The report galvanized the often fractious officers of the SCCAF as well as the minister of the Islamic Revolutions Guards Corps, the minster of foreign affairs, the minister of the interior, and the minister of intelligence. The moderates had joined the extremists, and by ten A.M., the order had been given: the IRI military was ordered to defend Iranian interests in the Caspian at any and all cost.
On the sea, the initial thrust was to be an antisubmarine defense. That was spearheaded by antisubmarine aircraft and helicopters. Marine battalions in the region were also mobilized. The second wave would consist of destroyers and frigates, which were to be stationed around the remaining rigs. Chinese-made Silkworm missiles were rushed to the forces defending the Caspian.
In the air, Chinese-made Shenyang F-6s began regular patrols from both the Doshan Tapeh Air Base and the Mehrabad Air Base. Three surface-to-air missile battalions in the region were also put on high alert.
At the same time, Iranian embassies in Moscow and Baku were ordered to notify the Russian and Azerbaijani governments that while the attack was under investigation, any further moves against Iranian interests would be regarded as a declaration of war by those governments. Iranian diplomats were informed by both governments that they had had no hand in the attack on the Iranian oil facility. Representatives of Moscow and Baku added that Iran’s increased military presence was unwelcome. Both nations indicated that their own navies and air forces would be placed on alert and would increase patrols in the region.
By late morning, waters that had given lives to fishermen and oilmen the night before were rich with something else.
The promise of death.
FORTY
Mike Rodgers was in his office when General Orlov called. After hearing what the Russian had to say, Rodgers immediately called Paul Hood in his car and gave him the new information about the Harpooner.
“How certain is General Orlov about the NSA-Harpooner connection?” Hood asked.
“I asked him that,” Rodgers told Hood. “Orlov answered that he is very certain. Though I’m not sure the president is going to put a lot of credence in what a Russian general thinks.”
“Especially if several of the president’s top advisers refute that information,” Hood said.
“Paul, if Orlov is correct, we’re going to have to do more than tell the president,” Rodgers said. “There’s going to have to be a massive housecleaning in the NSA. We can’t have American intelligence agencies hiring terrorists who have attacked American interests, taken American lives.”
“Didn’t we do that with the German rocket scientists after World War Two?” Hood asked.
“The operative phrase is, ‘after World War Two,’ ” Rodgers said. “We didn’t hire German scientists to work for us while they were still building missiles to attack Great Britain.”
“Good point,” Hood said.
“Paul, this is the guy that helped kill Bob Herbert’s wife,” Rodgers said. “If Orlov’s intel is true, the NSA has to be held accountable for this.”
“I hear you,” Hood said. “Look, I’ll be at the White House soon. Work on trying to get me any kind of backup you can. See if Bob can dig up signal intelligence that backs up Orlov’s claims.”
“He’s working on that now,” Rodgers said.
Hood hung up, and Rodgers got up. He poured coffee from the pot that sat on a cart in the back of his room. It was an aluminum cart from the 1950s. He’d picked it up at a Pentagon garage sale ten years before. He wondered if the sounds of crisis still resonated somewhere deep in its molecular structure. Arguments and decisions about Korea, the Cold War, Vietnam.
Or were they arguments about whose turn it was to treat for coffee and Danish? Rodgers wondered. That was part of war, too, of course. The moments of down-time that let decision makers catch their breath. Do something real instead of theoretical. Remind themselves that they were talking about people’s lives and not just statistics.
When he sat back down, Rodgers started going through the files of the NSA’s top officials. He was looking for people who had previous ties with Jack Fenwick or had ever investigated Middle Eastern terrorist groups. The NSA could not have contacted the Harpooner unless someone in one of those groups had helped. If it turned out that Orlov was right, Rodgers wanted to be ready to help with the purge. A purge of Americans who had collaborated with a man who had murdered American men and women, soldiers, and civilians.
He wanted to be ready with a vengeance.
FORTY-ONE
The White House is an aging monument in constant need of repair. There is peeling paint on the southern columns and splitting wood on the third-floor terraces.
But in the West Wing, especially in the Oval Office, there is a sense of constant renewal. To outsiders, power is a large part of the appeal of the Oval Office. To insiders, it is the idea that an intense new drama presents itself every hour of every day. Whether it’s small, cautious maneuvering against a political rival or the mobilization of the military for a massive offensive and possible casualties, each situation starts, builds, and ends. For someone who thrives on outthinking an adversary or on extrapolating short- and long-term results from quiet decisions, the Oval Office is the ultimate challenge. It clears the game board every few minutes and offers new contests with new rules. Some presidents are aged and drained by the process. Other presidents thrive on it.
There was a time until very recently when Michael Lawrence was invigorated by the problems that crossed his desk. He was undaunted by crises, even those that required quick military action and possible casualties. That was part of the job description. A president’s task was to minimize the damage caused by inevitable aggression.
But something had changed over the past few days. Lawrence had always felt that however stressful situations got, he was at least in control of the process. He could chair meetings with confidence. Lately, that was no longer the case. It was difficult for him even to focus.
Lawrence had worked with Jack Fenwick and Red Gable for many years. They were old friends of the vice president, and Lawrence trusted Jack Cotten. He trusted his judgment. Lawrence would not have selected him as a running mate otherwise. As vice president, Cotten had been more closely involved in the activities of the NSA than any previous vice president. Lawrence had wanted it that way. For years, the CIA, the FBI, and military intelligence had had their own agendas. The Executive Branch needed its own eyes and ears abroad. Lawrence and Cotten had more or less appropriated the NSA for that task. The military could still utilize the NSA’s chartered assets, which were the centralized coordination and direction of U.S. government intelligence technical functions and communications. Under Cotten, its role had quietly been expanded to increase the breadth and detail of intelligence that was coming directly to the president. Or, rather, to Fenwick and the vice president and then to the president.