Brad Carlson
The ISIS Gambit
Dedication
To Carl, Thomas and Jonathan: You three boys, young men really, inspire me in ways you cannot possibly imagine!
Epigraph
A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. As long as justice and injustice have not terminated their ever-renewing fight for ascendancy in the affairs of mankind, human beings must be willing, when need is, to do battle for the one against the other.”
“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”
“Out of every one hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are just targets, nine are the real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back.”
Prologue
“Have we been able to get anything out of either Suleimani or Rafsanjani?” Director of National Intelligence Felix Jones, asked James Carmichael, the Assistant Director of the CIA.
“No, we haven’t. Just the other day Rafsanjani made mention of another attack that we could expect. He didn’t mention anything other than that one more would be coming and we haven’t been able to get anything else out of him. Suleimani, for his part, simply sits there and grins at us. He knows that since he’s at Gitmo, we won’t be sending him to any black sites we have overseas, plus, the enhanced interrogation techniques we used after 9/11 are off the table as well — and those techniques worked.”
“Well, if there’s one more attack coming, it’s obviously already been set in motion, otherwise he never would have told us. Probably likely to hit any time as well.”
“Exactly. I’ve left Stonewall in Tel Aviv to see if he can root out any remaining Quds and Republican Guards in Syria. It looks like we’ll have to expand on that to see if his Mossad contacts can drum up any intel on a pending attack.”
Six weeks earlier, Colonel Ashkan Rafsanjani led the Iranian Quds force in a daring three pronged unconventional attack against the homeland of the United States. He now claimed that a fourth attack was imminent. Two of the first three attacks hit the west coast of the United States particularly hard. Carmichael, with the help of a friend of his in the 5th Group Special Forces, Colonel Tom ‘Stonewall’ Jackson, and some new found friends in Mossad, helped stop the third, as well as topple the Iranian Islamic Republic and capture both Colonel Ashkan Rafsanjani and General Qassim Suleimani.
“You really believe there’s another pending attack?” Jones asked his deputy.
“Yes, sir, I do. Rafsanjani has no reason to lie to us at this point. Actually, it’s almost like he’s gloating — here he is in Gitmo and he thinks he can still hurt us.”
“Well, he hit us hard the first time. I’ll let the President know.”
I
“The rivalry between the Yankees and Red Sox has always been special, and this year poses no exception,” Butch McAlister announced to his radio audience. “With three weeks left in the season, the Red Sox hold a game and a half lead over their division rivals, the New York Yankees, as we’re about to begin this four game series.”
“That’s right, Butch,” his partner, Jack Weaver commented. “And a sellout crowd of over 37,700 is expected this afternoon for the series opener. If the Red Sox can stifle the Yankees here and take advantage of the home-cookin’, they’ll clearly be in the driver’s seat for the remainder of the season as we head into the playoffs.”
The season opener for the New England Patriots always brings out a sellout crowd of over 66,000. The Tom Brady — Bill Belichik era would soon be over and every Patriots fan wanted to be a part of what could be the last season for this quarterback-coach tandem. Obviously, every Pat’s fan expected this opener to be like most every other one had been for the past seventeen years: another ‘W’ for the home team on their way to hopefully another Super Bowl season.
“How soon can we launch, Captain?” First Mate Aleksander Gozni asked.
“Our orders indicate that we are to launch every one of the missiles at precisely four o’clock local time,” Captain Kanokov replied. “Have you double checked to make sure that all of the target coordinates have been programmed into each of the missiles?”
“I have, sir. The target coordinates for each missile have been programmed as expected and we are ready to go, sir,” Gozni replied.
“Very well, open the containers and prepare to fire on my mark.”
“Excellent, sir!” Gozni replied with more than a little nervous excitement in his voice.
“Have you done anything like this before?” the captain asked his first mate.
“No, I haven’t, and it’s an honor to be a part of this.”
“Well, seaman, let’s just pray that this isn’t your last one either. Once the Americans realize where these missiles came from, they’re not going to be too concerned with asking questions first.”
“I’m not worried. Allah will protect us.”
“If he doesn’t, you’ll have an appointment with seventy-two virgins very soon. Are we ready to fire?”
“All containers opened, sir! We are ready to fire.”
“Very well, then. May Allah forgive us. You may commence firing.”
And with that, the first Tishreen missile left its launcher aboard the container ship MV Admiral Ushakov. Ninety seconds later, Ushakov, along with the container ships MV Tibor Szamueli, the Bomar Hermes, and two hundred miles to their southwest, the Falcon Trident each lay completely obscured by the smoke from the exhaust plumes of fifty Tishreen missiles launched from each of their decks.
“Commander, let’s get some last minute training for this crew before we get back to base,” Captain Richard ‘Yank’ Hudson said to his executive officer, Commander Jessica Knox.
“Yes, sir, this crew can certainly use it. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a crew this green.”
“Ensign Taylor,” Commander Knox called out to the junior Weapons officer.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’re about 120 miles out of the port of New York City in one of the busiest shipping channels in the world. Let’s see if you can’t hone in your target acquisition skills on a few sitting ducks.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sonar, what do we have?” Ensign Taylor called to his sonar technician, Petty Officer Jennifer Pope.