The missile was a spongy light gray color except for the nose cap, which was hard red plastic, and a section near the front that was outlined in yellow and black.
“The P-700 Granit anti-ship missile, the largest and most powerful anti-ship weapon in the world,” Tufayli said proudly. “It can fly over twice the speed of sound to ranges in excess of six hundred kilometers. It is guided by its own inertial navigation computer until within fifty kilometers of its target, when it activates its own onboard radar, locks onto the largest radar target in its line of sight, and guides itself precisely on target. The missile blasts out of the launch canister on those two rocket motors to about Mach one, when the turbojet engine takes over. It flies a powered ballistic path up to thirty thousand meters’ altitude until very close to the target, when it executes a high-speed dive—almost impossible to shoot down with any known antiaircraft weapons. This rubbery coating burns off during its flight to protect the guidance and warhead sections.”
“And the warhead?”.Buzhazi asked.
Tufayli turned to the weapons officer, who assured him that all nonessential personnel were out of the compartment, then he nodded to Buzhazi. “Yes, sir,” he said, “this is what you wanted to see—the NK-55 thermonuclear warhead”—and Tufayli slapped his hand on the yellow-and-black bordered section. The sudden slap sound made them all jump. “Selectable yield from five-hundred-kilogram high explosive to three-hundred-kiloton nuclear. Barometric and radar altimeter fusing, detonating two to three thousand meters above the target., with impact backup.”
“Do you think it is wise to slap that warhead like that, Admiral?”
Buzhazi asked acidly.
“Perfectly safe, sir,” Tufayli the idiot replied, not understanding Buzhazi’s meaning at all—Buzhazi meant to ask if he thought it was wise for Tufayli’s career and continued good health to be scaring the chief of staff like that.
“Yes … and the other canisters …?”
“Still all one-thousand-kilo high-explosive contact warheads on all the rest,” Tufayli replied. “We look forward to getting more warheads such as this one for our other missiles.”
“That appears unlikely,” General Buzhazi said, “unless we can convince the President that the Islamic Republic needs more nuclear warheads to counter our enemies in the Persian Gulf region and elsewhere.”
“President Nateq-Nouri would be happier, I think, if Iran had no warships or missiles at all,” Tufayli said. “This proposal to ban all warships from the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman? Ridiculous.
You should advise the President that it would be in all of our best interests to continue an aggressive weapons buildup and develop a better indigenous weapons manufacturing-“
“Yes, yes, Admiral, you are correct, of course,” Buzhazi interrupted, shutting off this egotistical, strutting popinjay.
Any other officer would be immediately dismissed for trying to tell Buzhazi how to do his job—but he needed Tufayli to outfit this battle group and get it out into the Gulf of Oman, where it would have maximum psychological effect against the GCC and the West … or could be best used to spearhead a drive to close off … the Persian Gulf, and ultimately propel himself to the presidency.
“How soon can you be on station in the Gulf of Oman, Admiral?”
Buzhazi asked, as he headed for the hatch to go back up on deck.
“We have a few minor repairs to conclude, nothing too serious,” Tufayli said. “We should be fully operational, with a full complement of aircraft and weapons, in two days.”
Judging by the looks of things in the aircraft hangar, Buzhazi thought, this idiot Tufayli wouldn’t be ready to fight for two years, but he didn’t say that. Instead: “Very well, Admiral.
Good work. In two days, I will see you on station in the Gulf of Oman, ready to counter any seagoing force which may threaten the sovereignty of the Islamic Republic. Good luck, and good hunting.”
“Thank you, sir!” Tufayli said in his best academy parade voice.
“You will be pleased and gratified by the trust you have placed in me.”
Just don’t get sunk by your own stupidity, Tufayli, Buzhazi thought. Do what I will tell you to do, whatever I tell you to do, and you will do just fine. When it comes time to launch that missile, don’t think about it—just do it.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
20 APRIL 1997, 0906 HOURS ET
“A mysterious attack on an island in the Persian Gulf that some claim was perpetrated by the United States against Iran; a bold so-called defensive move by Iran’s new aircraft carrier battle group into the Gulf of Oman, punctuated by a recent deadly attack against an unarmed rescue vessel; a military arms buildup by Iran, Turkey, and Pakistan unprecedented in two decades,” Tim Russert, the host of NBC News’ “Meet the Press,” began. “In the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union and the glut of high-tech weapons of mass destruction on the world’s arms market, the Middle East is becoming an even more dangerous powder keg. Is it ready to explode?
“Joining us to help put all this in perspective is today’s very special guest, the Vice President of the United States, Ellen Christine Whiting. Madam Vice President, welcome to ‘Meet the Press.”
“Thank you, Tim.” The image of Russert, the “saber-toothed teddy bear,” flashed in her mind, almost making her laugh, and instead prompting her famous “ten-million vote” smile.
“Finding the first one hundred days challenging enough, Madam Vice President?” Russert asked.
It was the patented Russert disarming tactic, she thought: hit the guest with his boyish, chubby-faced smile, then the light, easy banter, the brainless question she could answer while half-asleep.
He liked to make his guest feel at ease, as if this were going to be an easy Sunday-morning chat, then whammo … “It’s a challenge I’ve been savoring ever since I was a young campaign volunteer in Frederick, Maryland, Tim,” Whiting replied. “But let’s get right down to the issues your viewers want to hear about.”
“Indeed, let’s,” Russert said with a smile, but his voice turned decidedly harder after being upstaged like that. “Let’s first talk about what seems to be on everyone’s mind, Madam Vice President, and that’s the attack on those disputed Iranian islands, allegedly by the Gulf Cooperative Council, the launching of Iran’s huge nuclear aircraft carrier battle group, the attack on that rescue vessel with the loss of about a half dozen lives and a dozen still unaccounted for, and the administration’s apparent wait-and-see, do-nothing attitude.
What’s the latest on this, Madam Vice President?”
“Tim, at the risk of sounding like a broken record—and I know most of your audience still remembers what a record is—we’re looking into exactly what happened out there in the Persian Gulf,” Whiting replied. “The Gulf Cooperative Council is preparing a full report on their attack on Abu Musa Island, but claims it was a defensive, preemptive strike on Iranian offensive missile emplacements that threatened ships in the Persian Gulf oil lanes.
Given Iran’s huge military buildup on that island since their illegal annexation of those islands in 1992, their explanation seems somewhat justified.”
“And Iran’s claims that U.S. and Israeli commandos were involved in the raid?”
“Nonsense,” the Vice President replied. “This appears to be a GCC operation, and the White House was not notified of the action before or during the attack.
“As far as the salvage ship Valley Mistress attack, the U.S. company, Jersey Tech Salvage, out of Elizabeth City, is currently under investigation by the Justice Department for its recent activities,” the Vice President continued. “Apparently the ship that was attacked by Iranian aircraft was involved in some … illegal operations, taking advantage of its U.S. Naval Reserve Fleet designation. These operations have something to do with shipping weapons, possibly to Iraq, possibly to anti-Iranian government rebels.”