Chapter Thirty-Six After Labor Day

“Well, suh,” Walker drawls, “we’re purty certain that a Dolphin-class sub from Israel dropped off a team of two onto Iranian shores. We been monitorin’ them, from the time they landed. Their destination, it turns out, was Bampur. They spent three and a half days there, then headed back to their drop point. At first we figgered they were headin’ out, then, for whatever reason, they turned around and went to Bandar Abbas.”

“The Iranian naval base,” says the President, rubbing his chin.

“Yes, suh, that’s the one. Bear in mind we’re trackin’ them only by heat sourcin’ – they were travelin’ in total darkness. But our equipment’s purty damned exceptional and we have confidence in our findin’s. So, then they camped out around Bandar Abbas for five days. What they found out, who knows, but then they headed eastward for one night. Then, it appears, they were retrieved by submarine, somewhere around Jask, the middle of the second night.”

“Jesus, those guys have balls. Excuse me, Allison,” the president says, after the fact.

“I’ve heard worse, sir,” McDonald grimaces. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Suh, NSA feels that Israel must have ’dentified what they went in for. The real issue heah is will they be sharin’ whatever that is with us?”

“John, you say in your report that the sub picked them up about thirty-six hours ago. They surely won’t return to Israel through the Suez Canal, which means they have to be going home the long way. Which means the powers that be in Israel won’t have a real handle on it for at least ten days.

“Allison, I want you to call Ariel Wattenberg in two weeks. I want you to tell him we’d like to have him visit the U.S. to discuss the status of things going on in Iran. Tell him that you and John will be meeting with him. Don’t tell him that we’ll be holding the meeting here in the Oval Office.”