“We can have a flight of F-111s on target whenever you want,” said the captain, Tom Marks.
“What are they tasked for now?” said Booker.
“There are two flights. One is doing RR, bridges and railroads, north of Baghdad, and the other just a generic Scud hunting mission down near…”
“There are no generic Scud missions,” said Booker. “Every damn Scud in the Gulf has to be eliminated.”
“With all due respect,” said Skull, “don’t you feel nailing Saddam is more important than going after the Scuds? Hell, the damn things can’t hit the broadside of a barn.”
“Tell that to the people in Tel Aviv,” said Booker.
“Eliminate Saddam and the war ends.”
“I doubt it. In any event, assassinating world leaders is not one of our war aims.”
“Right,” laughed Skull derisively. Even he had his limits. “What priority do we have, exactly?”
“You have no priority,” said Booker. “This is a high-risk mission.”
“You’re vetoing it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Booker, finally called out, physically stepped back. He glanced at his two aides and gave his shoulders another heave. “The CinC wants it to proceed, if feasible, but with minimal resources. The Scuds must remain a priority. We can’t divert from any other missions.”
“Minimal resources means what?” said Skull.
“No diminishment of the Scud mission. No diminishment of other priorities,” said Booker.
They might have taken a few more turns around that circle had Wong not interrupted.
“The air defenses have definitely been increased,” he said. “And in a most interesting way. Possibly with SA-11s. Very interesting.”
“SA-11s?” said Marks.
“What’s the significance?” asked Booker.
“SA-11s are not known to have been deployed in Iraq since experimental use at the behest of the Soviets during the so-called Iran-Iraq war,” said Wong. He slid the pictures to the center of table and identified three revetments obviously prepared for missile launchers; he explained as an aside that there should be a fourth, though it was not discernible. He then zeroed in on one of the vehicles in the revetments, showing the circumstantial evidence that had led him to conclude it was an SA-11 battery.
“These are clearly placements for two vehicles.” He pointed at the small wedge which represented a parking spot. “Typically, an SA-11 battery would consist of two vehicles, one a radar van located here, the other a four-missile turntable providing 360-degree coverage. The wide envelope would also make sense given this configuration, for the parameters of the acquisition radars would be covered, as you can see.”
Wong quickly traced squiggly circles extending out from his wedges, forming a neat hedge completely covering the approaches to Al Kajuk. A wedge of open space covered the right northwestern corner — obviously where the other battery must be.
“I don’t see a van,” said Tommy.
“Yes, precisely,” said Wong. “It hasn’t been moved in yet. This vehicle here, obscured by the tarp as it moves along the area, is most likely the radar unit. But we can’t be sure. That is why my conclusion is tentative. There is the possibility that they are bluffing. There is also the possibility that this has been established for different missile defenses.” Wong began a dissertation on the amount of space typically cleared for radar trucks and support vehicles, concentrating on the one site which had been worked over by a bulldozer or other earthmover. He could not rule out SA-6s or SA-8s, or even other potentially portable defenses. Skull kept nodding and signaling to him to wrap it up; as usual, Wong was delivering much more detail than necessary.
“No matter what they put there,” said Knowlington finally, cutting him off, “we should prepare for the more capable missiles.”
“Getting Weasels might be a problem,” said Marks, referring to SAM killing Phantoms. “But there’s a flight of Tornadoes available.”
“The Tornadoes would be appropriate,” said Wong. “Their ALARM missiles could accommodate the threat.”
“I agree with Bristol,” said Paddington. “Quite.”
Knowlington had caught a sniff of gin on the British intelligence expert’s breath when they were introduced. Even if he hadn’t, he recognized the pale eyes, twitchy gestures, and most of all the sweat as characteristics he used to have when he went too long without a drink. Shaking Paddington’s hand, he had stared briefly into his eyes. He hadn’t seen himself there; a good sign.
Nonetheless, the British agent knew his stuff. He added a few comments about how the defenses were likely to be arrayed, Wong nodding along in the background. He also noted that the British ALARM missiles, designed to be used against advanced anti-aircraft systems like the SA-11, could linger above the battlefield until the radar was activated — a distinct advantage compared to the HARM missiles carried by the Phantoms.
To the Army people, the discussion of the missile types was clearly academic. To Skull, it was anything but. The SA-11 was more capable than the SA-6 it was designed to replace. And the SA-6 was, in the words a Hog driver might use, a real son of a bitch.
“It would be reasonable to expect that SA-11 would be deployed as point defense weapons guarding a high-priority asset,” noted Wong, “such as Saddam.”
“That doesn’t change the mission’s priority,” insisted Booker. “This is still speculative.”
“It does change the targeting,” said Tommy. “We have to take out those batteries if we’re going to fly up there.”
“If the attack were carried out at low altitude, I believe we could make do with one or two, at least at the start,” said Wong. “This corridor would provide access to the roadway south of the village. Hitting just one several hours to Straw’s arrival would lessen the likelihood that he would seek other quarters.”
“Possibly,” said Paddington.
“If he’s going to go somewhere else, why even bother?” asked Booker.
“A logical question,” said Paddington, “even from a blackguard. The answer is that our friend is very superstitious. He has also taken the time to study allied bombing plans. His conclusion is that you never strike the same place twice.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” said Booker.
Paddington shrugged.
“This seems like an even longer shot than I thought,” said Booker.
Skull listened vaguely as the Delta representatives argued with Booker, the discussion threatening to degenerate into a shouting match. To be honest, Booker did have a point — the mission was a long shot, even if the payoff was astronomical. Assuming the information was correct, assuming the profiles of Saddam were correct, assuming, assuming, assuming — the odds of actually nailing a moving vehicle in the middle of the night were very high.
“All right, so it’s a long shot,” Knowlington said finally. “What’s the largest ground force we can authorize?”
Booker turned and looked at him. “The smallest force necessary to identify the vehicle. Two men. That’s all I’m authorized to approve. That’s all the chief will approve.”
“That’s way too little,” said Leterri.
“That’s two men who may be dead in the morning,” said Booker.
“Sure, if that’s all we send.”
“What about searching for my pilot?” said Skull. “We need a full team.”
“With all due respect,” said Booker sharply, pointedly repeating Knowlington’s own phrase, “Lieutenant Dixon has been declared KIA.”
“But he’s not.”
“The speculation put forth by Captain Wong is unpersuasive.”
“Bullshit, Captain,” said Skull. “Bullshit.”