Mission Compromised (40 page)

 

The OEOB was mostly empty on Saturday mornings, Newman and his team had learned. Coombs, Robertson, and McDade were the first people he saw after leaving the National Security Advisor's office. The other three looked at him when he shut the door behind him.

“We have a change of mission,” he told them.

They all groaned. Their Christmas and New Year holidays—and most of the preceding month—had been devoted to little else but planning
the mission to go after Mohammed Farrah Aidid in Somalia. “How did I know this was going to happen?” said Coombs as all four men filled their coffee cups and sat down around the conference table in Newman's office.

The operation had been coming together well. All thirty-eight members of the ISEG had been deployed to the British base area in Oman, and the MD-80 aircraft that Robertson had ordered had been repainted as an Aer Lingus cargo plane on charter to the UN. As specified by the “Concept of Operations” drafted at Andrews Air Force Base back in the first days of December, an advanced operating base had been designated—the old French foreign legion facility at the far west end of the airport in Djibouti. ISET B had been tagged as the primary team to carry out the mission of capturing or killing Aidid in Somalia. ISET E had been told to prepare for departure to Djibouti as the advance party to establish the AOB. ISET C had been ordered to serve as the Quick Reaction Force, and was working on how to respond if the primary team ran into trouble. The two remaining International Sanctions Enforcement Teams and the ISEG headquarters were gearing up for the move to Djibouti aboard the MD-80. Newman's announcement meant that all this would now change.

Newman told them about the expected gathering in Iraq on March 6. When he had filled in the three officers on the new mission and listened to their complaints about how little time there was to do all that was necessary, he said, “Here's what we need. First, Bart, you get off a flash SatCom message to Weiskopf and tell him that the Somalia mission is off and that I'm headed his way with new orders. Tell him that the new target is Iraq and that it includes our present target and a whole bunch of other bad actors—including Saddam himself. That
should make everyone in the ISEG happy since they all fought against him in the Gulf War.”

“Where do we put the AOB?” asked Coombs.

“Harrod said he didn't care if it was in Turkey or Kuwait,” said Newman. “All other things being equal, we ought to try for Turkey. If I remember correctly, Tikrit is in the north-central part of Iraq, on the Tigris River. It's closer to Turkey, and the Turks may not even notice if this can be made to look like it's part of the normal northern no-fly zone operation.

“Second,” continued Newman, “Tom, I need everything you can get on the presidential palace compound in Tikrit. We'll need maps, the latest satellite coverage, nearest friendlies, Republican Guard dispositions—the works.” McDade scribbled on his legal pad.

“Dan,” said Newman, turning to the Air Force officer, “I need you to find out what we have available in nonattributable guided ordnance—something that can be laser target designated by our guys on the ground and big enough to bring a building down on the bad guys while they have tea. Dr. Harrod mentioned using a UAV he called ‘Global Hawk.'”

“Does it have to be U.S.?”

“I don't think it matters as long as we can get it by next week and nobody cares if we don't bring it back.”

By 1400 hours the three men had rung enough bells in the U.S. intelligence and Special Operations community to have answers to most of what Newman wanted to know. They gathered again around the conference table.

McDade began: “I've put together a map package for you that shows everything we know about Tikrit and Northern Iraq to the Turkish border. It isn't bad. I've also scheduled seven passes with various
assets between now and the fifth of March so we'll know the latest.” He laid out the disposition of two Republican Guard armored-mechanized regiments and the nearest locations for Kurdish rebel operations along the southern side of Iraq's border with Turkey. His computer-generated map showed the location of all known Iraqi and Syrian antiaircraft sites, air-search radars, and signals intelligence sites.

Next, it was Coombs's turn. “The best site for an advanced operations base is the Turkish Air Force Base here at Siirt,” he said, pointing to the location on the map, west of Lake Van and along the north bank of the River Nehri. “Unfortunately, we're not likely to get clearance to go in there and set up much more than a communications relay on such short notice. Our best bet is to base at Siirt or out of Incirlik. All the U.S.—UK northern no-fly zone ops are being flown out of Incirlik. I like it because there are plenty of U.S. and British assets available on site in case our units on the ground in Iraq get into trouble.”

“How do you recommend that we get 'em in and out?” asked Newman.

Coombs looked at Robertson, who signaled for him to proceed.

Coombs continued. “Dan and I think we ought to pre-position the MD-80 at Incirlik, and once everything is set up, pull the tail cone off the aircraft so that we can use it for a High Altitude—High Opening insert of ISET Echo on the night of March 1 or 2. Depending on the weather and winds, we could drop them from thirty thousand feet up to twenty-five or thirty miles west of Tikrit. That would give the team a minimum of three and one-half nights to get into position to set up an LTD to illuminate the target.”

“What are we going to use for the strike?” asked Newman.

Robertson spoke up. “Since this can't look like an intentional U.S. attack, all our laser-guided bombs are ruled out, as are cruise missiles.
It'd be too hard to explain how a Tomahawk just happened to kill the president of Iraq and a room full of terrorists. In order to deliver a big enough payload, that leaves us just two options: one U.S., the other is Russian.”

“Russian?”

“Yes, sir. The Russians have a handful of TU-123 UAVs sitting around.” The Air Force officer put a picture in front of Newman. “As you can see, these things are big. They're truck-mounted and launched, and they travel at Mach 2. Max altitude is sixty thousand feet, and they have a range of better than one thousand miles. There are four of them at Factory N-135 in Kharkov that could be modified to accept our telemetry, GPS guidance equipment, a laser targeting terminal control system, and up to three thousand pounds of explosives. The advantage of using a TU-123 is that there would be no U.S. fingerprints. The downside is trying to get the Russians to buy off on it and get it rewired and ready for launch between now and the sixth of March.”

“What's the U.S. option?” asked Newman.

Robertson put another photo in front of Newman. “This is what Dr. Harrod described to you. It's called Global Hawk. It's very big; its wingspan is 116 feet, it's 44
feet long, and more than 15 feet high. It's difficult to tell by this photo because it was taken at an altitude of 65,000 feet over Groom Lake Airfield at Area 51 in Nevada, and there's no perspective.”

“Good grief,” said Newman as the others craned their heads to see. “It looks like a cross between a U-2 and a whale.”

Robertson shrugged. “Right now there are three of these things. Two are at Nellis Air Force Base, outside of Las Vegas; the third is undergoing payload tests at the Area 51 site at Tonopah. I talked to
one of the engineers at Teledyne-Ryan about an hour ago, and he said that if they had to, they could outfit the telemetry suite the way we want. It already has X-band, UHF, and KU-band satellite radio command uplink equipment aboard. A GPS navigational cross-check system is built in. All they would have to add is the laser designator terminal guidance-control interface so that once it picks up the reflection from the designator our ISET puts on the target, it just follows the laser reflection in through the window. But here's the really good news: the thing weighs only 8,900 pounds empty. It's built to take a 2,000-pound instrument payload and—get this—14,700 pounds of fuel!”

McDade, the SEAL, couldn't understand Robertson's excitement. “So what's the big deal about that?”

“Typical squid! If it doesn't swim, you guys don't get it. Look, all that fuel is so that Global Hawk can stay airborne for forty-eight hours! Think about it, man. If we put this thing at Incirlik—or better yet—up at Mus in Turkey, we can replace the fuel we don't need with a corresponding weight in C-4 plastic explosives. I've already run the numbers. The flight time from Incirlik at 350 knots is only an hour and forty-five minutes. From the Turk Air Force Base at Mus West it's less than an hour. Build in a margin of error of ten hours to account for wind, weather, or the team being late getting in position if you want. That gives us a ten-thousand-pound bomb, with some fuel left over to burn down the wreckage after it hits.” The Air Force officer sat back in his seat with a smug smile on his face.

“What about the U.S. fingerprints problem?” McDade said. “That thing has ‘Made in the U.S.A' written all over it. Nobody else has anything like it. How could they not tie it to the U.S. after the international press corps gets in there to count the bodies?”

“That's right,” interjected Newman, trying to smooth over the budding interservice rivalry. “That's why we're going to have a little disinformation campaign after the mission to deal with the back blast.

We're already flying all kinds of UAVs over Iraq to enforce the so-called no-fly zones and the UN sanctions,” Newman said. “The Turks know that our little Predator UAVs launch almost every night out of Incirlik to fly east along the Syrian border and then down into Iraq.”

“Yeah, I know about Predators; the SEALs are using 'em for real-time OTH imagery in training, but this is a whole lot bigger than Predator—and the Predators don't have ten-thousand-pound warheads.”

“That's why Jabba the Hutt will already be prepared with a press release that says something like, ‘The USG deeply regrets that one of its unmanned aerial vehicles conducting reconnaissance in support of the UN sanctions program went out of control on March 6. We regret that it came down on Mr. Saddam's house, et cetera, et cetera.'”

“How does this thing take off and land?” Newman asked Robertson.

“It takes off and lands in five thousand feet, like a conventional aircraft. It just needs a normal, paved runway.”

“I think this is exactly what Dr. Harrod had in mind,” said Newman. “The only question is, how do we get it there?”

Robertson smiled again. “The wing comes off in two pieces, each fifty-three feet long. It all fits easily inside a C-5. And best of all, the one at Tonopah is already apart. Just in case, I put a C-5 out of Charleston, South Carolina, on standby in case we need a quick trip to Nevada and then to Turkey.”

“Well done, gentlemen. I like the Global Hawk option. We have more control over getting it there when we need it. Does anyone have
any reservations about this course of action?” Hearing none, Newman said, “I'll check with our boss and see what he says.” He picked up his direct line to the Sit Room.

Fifteen minutes later the Sit Room watch officer had found the National Security Advisor, asked him to call Newman using an EL-3 for secrecy, and the two men held a brief conversation. When he hung up, Newman called the team back together.

“It's a go. Bart, you and Tom book yourselves to Incirlik the fastest way possible. Dan, you call whomever it is I need to talk to out in Nevada. I want to know all I can about this Global Hawk thing of yours. I plan to head out there tomorrow to take a look at it. Then I'll go to Oman and pick up the ISEG. Dan, I want you to stay here to act as liaison between Harrod and the rest of us in Turkey. Take care of getting that MD-80 down to Muscat to pick us up and then get it delivered to Incirlik.”

He saw Robertson grimace at the prospect of missing the action, so he said, “Look, we need someone here to make sure that the story comes out right. You did a great job pulling all this together as fast as you did. Someone has to stay back on each one of these missions. Next time it will be Bart or Tom.”

“Yeah, if there is a next time,” said the Air Force officer.

Early Sunday morning Newman flew from Andrews on a USAF Special Air Mission Gulfstream direct to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada. The balance of Sunday and all of Monday morning were consumed with briefings set up at the Air Force Air Combat Command's Eleventh Reconnaissance Squadron at the Indian Springs Satellite Airfield. Just before dark on Monday afternoon, they took him over to the Tonopah site, inside Area 51. Engineers from Teledyne-Ryan brought him to a hangar to see the weapon he had chosen for this
mission. The black-skinned Global Hawk was being worked over by at least a dozen white-coated technicians. Then, after darkness fell, they took him to one of the towers and spent the next six hours or so showing off the Global Hawk's radar-avoidance capabilities.

Exhausted but satisfied, Newman returned to Nellis shortly after dawn on Tuesday morning. There, he delivered the verdict to the Eleventh Recon Squadron commander: “The President has ordered that on Saturday, 25 February, Global Hawk 3 will be loaded aboard a C-5 for delivery to a Special Projects Office unit at Incirlik, Turkey. Send with it whatever personnel may be necessary to prepare the UAV for a highly classified mission to be conducted not later than 6 March. If all goes according to plan, the UAV will not return. If you have any complications or questions, here is your point of contact.” Newman gave them Dan Robertson's NSC phone number.

At 1000 hours, the Gulfstream was wheels up off runway 36 at Nellis, banked hard right, and headed east. Newman slept almost all the way to Dulles, but by the time they landed at 1700 hours EST, he was rested—if rushed. At the Hawthorne FBO the ground-support personnel put him in a van and rushed him over to the main terminal. McDade had booked him on United Flight 40, the overnight run from Dulles to Paris, and he had barely an hour to get to the gate after mailing to his office anything that would identify him as a Marine assigned to the White House. The only identification he kept was a single dog tag, hanging on a stainless-steel, government-issue chain around his neck.