Seawolf End Game (22 page)

“I’m fine, thank you, Mister Gibbs,” Kristen replied with a pleasant smile for the selfless steward. She then sat quietly and listened as some in the wardroom argued the current crisis in Iran was another ruse, whereas others thought it an attempt by Iran simply to drive up the price of oil. This was hardly a difficult prediction. If access to the Persian Gulf was threatened, oil markets would go berserk.

Mike Massanelli and Adam Carpenter were discussing what they thought was the excellent possibility that the appearance of the
USS Virginia
and the
HMS Audacious
in the Strait, two of the most powerful submarines in the world, would help settle things down.

The
USS Virginia
was the first of America’s newest class of fast-attack boats designed in a post-Cold War world. Breaking with the traditional Cold War design for US hunter-killer submarines like the
Seawolf,
the
Virginias
were designed specifically for the shallow regions of the oceans near the littorals. It was in these regions where post-Cold War strategists believed submarines would need to operate, and the
Virginias
were the answer. Although not as fast, powerfully armed, or as deep diving as the
Seawolf,
the
Virginias
were still state of the art machines of war capable of holding their own against any enemy. It seemed obvious to Massanelli and Carpenter that by the time the
Seawolf
reached the region near the Strait, the Iranians would be suitably cowed and the waterway open to international traffic as always.

The captain entered, and everyone came to their feet. As usual, Brodie waved them back down before taking his customary seat and accepting a cup of coffee from Gibbs, who’d also delivered a cup for Graves. Gibbs conveniently ignored the other officers, who chuckled at the steward’s jealous guardianship of his favorites. Gibbs excused himself after attending to Brodie, and then the captain got down to business.

A map of the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz appeared on the screen. “All right, let’s get right to it. You’re each aware of its significance. It is the only sea channel in and out of the Persian Gulf. Through this narrow waterway passes over seventeen million barrels of crude oil per day.” Brodie paused to let the staggering figure sink in.

“Fifteen super tankers pass through this choke point every day carrying forty percent of the world’s seaborne petroleum bound for America, Europe, China, Japan, and elsewhere. It is the literal energy lifeline for the industrialized world.” Brodie walked over to the SMART Board and tapped the image. “Close off this pipeline and the lights go out all over America and the Western world.”

The assembled officers understood the significance of the Persian Gulf and the Western world’s need for Middle Eastern oil. This unquenchable thirst for oil was the driving force behind much of the United States’ foreign policy in the region and why America had a huge military presence in the Gulf. Usually a carrier battle group was never far from the area, but the North Korean ruse had seen to this nicely.

“In addition, we still have thousands of personnel in the Gulf plus tens of thousands of contractors in Iraq who receive their basic daily needs of food, fuel and other supplies on cargo ships passing through the Strait. Meaning, in the most basic terms, if we allow the Islamic Republic to cut off the Strait to our shipping, we risk economic disaster at home and military disaster here.”

There were no logisticians in the room, but they all had an adequate understanding of supply to know the American personnel in the region required tens of thousands of tons per day of everything from food and water, to ammunition, repair parts, fuel, and medical supplies. Such a vast quantity of supplies could only be delivered by cargo ships. A military airlift might be able to provide some of their needs but could never replace what a lone cargo ship could deliver in a single trip.

“The Strait itself is shaped like an inverted “V” with the Islamic Republic to the north and Oman to the south. Now, for some years, Iran has tried to get Oman to join them in closing off the Strait to international shipping since half the waterway is in Oman’s hands. But Oman has always resisted, and international shipping lanes are now all in Oman’s territorial waters.”

Brodie motioned toward Graves, who advanced the image on the screen to show a small, narrow peninsula jutting into the southern part of the Straits of Hormuz. “Unfortunately, Oman only owns a small sliver of land called the Musandam Peninsula which sticks out into the Strait creating the inverted “V” shape and the navigational difficulties in these narrow waters. Besides the fact the Peninsula is only ten miles wide and thirty miles long, its defense is further complicated by the fact it is not contiguous with the rest of Oman. The government of Oman cannot easily reinforce the small garrison without our help, and they have relied on the US Navy to make certain the Iranians cannot cross the narrow Strait and seize this tiny Peninsula.”

“Except we ain’t in the area,” Ski nearly groaned in disgust.

Brodie nodded in agreement. “Except we aren’t in the area. That’s exactly right.”

“What happens if they gain and can hold onto this peninsula, sir?” Martin asked.

“Then the Iranians will have what they want, overwhelming strategic control of the Strait,” Brodie said simply. He motioned toward Graves and a new satellite image appeared which showed a close up of a beach area.

“This is the southern coast of Jazireh-ye Qeshm, the largest of many islands positioned inside this strategic choke point controlled by the Islamic Republic. This image was taken yesterday, about twenty-three hours ago.”

Kristen pushed her glasses up onto her nose and leaned forward slightly, looking at the image. “What are those boats?” she asked, not recognizing them.

“That is the first of currently three problems we’re facing,” he said. “Those are fifteen Russian
Zubr
class hovercraft designed for landing up to five hundred troops or an equivalent load of other military equipment such as tanks, armored personnel carriers, surface-to-air missile batteries…” he paused as he shook his head at the problem. “I assume you recognize the significance of these fifteen hovercraft positioned so close to the Musandam Peninsula.”

The slide changed and showed an image of a different beach area and the
Zubr
Hovercraft on it. “This image was taken this morning on the western shore of the Musandam Peninsula. Last night, following what the Iranians claimed was an Oman commando raid on an Iranian island garrison in the Strait, the Islamic Republic responded with a massive invasion. It’s believed that since the initial assault wave, the Islamic Republic has transferred nearly thirty thousand troops across the Strait and has seized the entire peninsula.” Brodie paused to let the seriousness of the situation sink in. “As we speak, they’re ferrying a steady stream of equipment across the narrow waterways including hundreds of Russian made tanks, surface-to-air missile batteries, everything they need to create a bastion.”

“Mother of God,” Andrew Stahl whispered, knowing this surprise attack would have to be answered quickly before the oil lifeline so critical to the West was cut.

“I’m afraid this is only the half of it,” Brodie told him. “Although the State Department is burning up the diplomatic channels to bring international pressure against Iran to withdraw their forces, the Russian Federation submitted a written letter to the United Nations General Assembly today in which they have officially recognized Iran’s claim to the Peninsula.”

“So this was what all the deception was about. This is what this whole sham in North Korea was meant to do,” Terry said incredulously. “Seize the Strait—”

“And gain control of eighty percent of the world’s oil supply,” Brodie finished for him. “Furthermore, the Russians followed up this letter to the UN with an announcement that they are extending their nuclear defense shield over the Islamic Republic. In effect, guaranteeing Iran that should any nation use strategic weapons against them, the Russians will respond in kind.”

“Mother fuck,” Ski whispered in anger. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he added with venom in his voice.

“Crude,” Brodie said with a hint of similar anger and bitterness. “But it sums up the situation succinctly. The Russians have used petropolitics in the past, and they’ve apparently been planning this little operation for some time as an attempt to gain a near monopoly on the world’s energy needs, and if we don’t act quickly, they may very well get away with it.”

The image advanced to a satellite photograph of a boat moving through the open water. “This is an Iranian
Vosper Mark-5
frigate built forty years ago by our British cousins when Iran was run by the Shah.” He pointed toward the rear of the boat. “Although old, she’s fast and armed with state-of-the-art anti-ship missiles provided by our Chinese friends, and although she’s no threat to us, she’s photographed here with over fifty mines on her deck seeding the Strait of Hormuz.”

The images advanced through five more satellite images showing ship after ship similar to the previous one all dropping mines. “The Iranians currently have eleven surface ships rolling mines into the Persian Gulf as fast as they possibly can. Plus, we’ve additional evidence of aircraft also deploying mines, creating a massive barrier across the Strait. This is in addition to the extensive minefield they already had seeded in their own home waters.”

“This is like a damn nightmare,” Terry whispered to Kristen seated next to him. He then asked, “Do they really think they can get away with this?”

“For the moment, they are getting away with it,” Brodie replied matter of factly.

“But once our heavies get back in the area, we can wipe them off that peninsula in a day,” Ski offered. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Brodie stood calmly, but Kristen noticed his jaw twitching slightly, indicating either anger or frustration. Neither of which could be good at the moment considering the situation. He motioned toward Graves, who advanced to the next image. Everyone stared at it, not quite certain what they were seeing. It looked like an area of coastline with some underwater ridges visible as dark shadows on the satellite image. He motioned to Graves, who showed the next photo which was a close up of the previous photograph showing the series of ridges a little better. Kristen recognized the ominous dark shadow in the image and unconsciously bit her lip.

“There she is,” Kristen whispered.

“Who?” Terry asked, not having recognized the shape. “There who is?”

Brodie nodded and a closer image appeared. Everyone now saw the clear dark silhouette of a submerged submarine in shallow water taken during daylight. “This image was taken three days ago in the Persian Gulf well within Iranian territorial waters.”

The room had turned deathly silent as the officers stared at the imposing image. “The CIA, the NRO, the DIA, and MI-6 all agree that this is the
Borei.
” Brodie directed their attention to the ominous shape. “She’s significantly smaller than the old
Typhoons
but is still pretty big at around five hundred fifty feet and near fifteen thousand tons. As built, she’s designed to carry sixteen
Bulava
submarine-launched ballistic missiles each with six warheads and a range of about five thousand miles. But what we don’t know is what she’s doing there. The Persian Gulf is at most three hundred feet deep and averages about one fifty, which is a duck pond for a submarine like the
Borei
designed to hide in the open ocean.”

Kristen removed her glasses and rubbed her burning eyes, truly sick to her stomach. It was a perfect storm. When she looked back up she saw that Brodie was staring right at her.

“Lieutenant?”

“Sir, what are the chances the Russians sold the
Borei
to the Islamic Republic?” she asked. “I mean if they did, it would explain it being in Iranian waters. If the Iranians control access in and out of the Strait, then the
Borei
could sit in the Persian Gulf indefinitely, sink down into the sand and be perfectly safe.” She then added, “I mean there’s no chance of her being found by an airborne search aircraft.”

Brodie nodded his congratulations to her. “That’s what the CIA believes has indeed happened. Adding to the nightmare, is satellite imagery showing
Bulova
missile crates being loaded onto a cargo ship in Bandar-e-Abbas.”

“The Russians would never sell a nuclear missile to the Iranians,” Terry thought out loud. “Even they aren’t that reckless.”

“Perhaps,” Brodie admitted, “but the National Command Authority cannot risk an outright assault on Iran unless we know for certain the
Borei
isn’t carrying anything more deadly than a torpedo or…”

“Or what, sir?” Martin asked.

“The
Borei
is destroyed,” Kristen answered.

Brodie nodded solemnly. “Although there is no conclusive evidence the
Borei
is now armed with strategic missiles, as things stand right now we cannot assume she isn’t. All evidence makes it clear the Russians have gone all in on this play while at the same time trying to at least appear to be staying out of it. There is no doubt, considering the Federation’s immediate recognition of the Islamic Republic’s acquisition of the Musandam Peninsula and then the extension of their nuclear umbrella to include Iran, that they are in this up to their necks and probably orchestrating the entire thing.”

Ryan Walcott adjusted his seat nervously before asking, “Is there any evidence the Iranians have successfully developed their own nuclear bomb? If so, they could have simply placed their warhead in a Russian rocket.”

“There’s no evidence of any nuclear tests by Iran. Although the CIA believes it’s possible they could use other warheads with perhaps a dirty bomb or maybe some chemical agent.” Brodie ran a hand through his mop of hair and stressed, “But they’re really guessing on all of this with no concrete information.” He then reminded everyone, “For all we know the boat has empty launch tubes, and they’re hoping to scare us with the possibility of a nuclear strike capability, so we think twice before responding and going in there guns blazing.”