Monday, January 11, 2010

Chapter Eighty-One NSA's Nightmare

NSA director John Walker calls his two most senior officers into his office and asks them to close the door behind them. Jim Stewart and Dave Carter take the seats Walker gestures to in front of his desk. They’ve never seen the director look so serious.

“Gen’lmen, right now we’re lookin’ in every cranny, nook and corner of the waters of the world to find those five Kilo subs that departed Iran last week,” the director says, his frustration showing. “The first priority of every American vessel, above the surface or below, is to report any sightin’s, direction of travel, et cetera. The Air Force has been flyin’ special missions from the moment we discovered them gone, to see if we can locate any or all of them before they get too far away. We gotta keep track of them.” Walker pauses. “Y’all both know that we’ve reconfigured ev’ry satellite we have to keep a sharp eye over the whole area. However, the biggest part of the problem is that, by their very nature, subs aren’t the easiest vessels to detect.”

“John, those subs are probably only surfacing late at night to replenish their batteries,” says Jim Stewart. “Hell, they don’t even have to surface – they can just snorkel. And Kilos are damn quiet. We’re going to need some lucky breaks on this one.”

“The president realizes that, Jim,” offers Carter. “That’s what’s got him so worried.”

“Well, what do we expect five subs to do? Destroy shipping or cause port problems?” asks Stewart.

“No, it’s a bit bigger than that,” Walker says quietly. “We suspect the Iranians are carryin’ cruise missiles on those submarines.”

Both Stewart and Carter make long whistling sounds as the thought sinks in.

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