The End Game

He shook his head. “It will take a day to get word to this area. I can’t simply send an e-mail, you understand.”

 

 

She did. The men and women on the ground in Iran and other Middle East hot spots weren’t tied into the system. They had prearranged meetings and movements already being coordinated. Operating in the Middle East was difficult enough, operating in Iran’s backyard was more than dangerous.

 

This is too well-coordinated to be anything but the precursor to a legitimate attack.

 

“Get the president on the line immediately. Pull him out of his meetings. Now, Commander. He needs to know the Iranians are talking out both sides of their mouths—again—but this time, they’ve got their reactors all lit up and glowing. Get Mossad on the phone—Ari Mizrahi. If these idiots are about to attack Israel, we need to let them know. What am I thinking? Of course they already know. Ari might be in a better position to give us some information.”

 

The air was electric, but everyone knew what to do and they did it, calmly and efficiently. She watched views of the screens constantly changing, calls being made, computer keys typing fast and furious. Commander Zarvick handed her a secure phone. “Ma’am, here is President Bradley’s secure phone.”

 

“Callan? What is this? What is going on?”

 

“Iran’s facility in Bushehr is lit up like a Christmas tree. I know, I know, it could be that Iran’s simply saber-rattling again, but this time I’ve got to think they’re gearing up for something.” And she updated him about Bayway, told him about the power grids just going down, and the threat from COE to take out all the lights on the eastern seaboard. “Sir, I really don’t like the feel of this.”

 

Commander Zarvick said, “Arak is online now, too, ma’am.”

 

“Did you hear that, sir? Two facilities online now. They’re moving missile batteries. No troop movement as yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t happen soon.”

 

The president sounded impatient. “Of course they’re putting on their usual dog and pony show, for their own people, for their enemies and neighbors, to show they’re not being ground under by the U.S. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re close, only inches from a comprehensive nuclear deal, Callan. Inspections and total cooperation with the UN.”

 

“And what do we give in return?”

 

He paused a moment, then: “We lift all sanctions. Acknowledge them as a player.”

 

She sat down hard. “As a nuclear state? Sir, have you lost your mind?”

 

“We’re talking a historic moment in time, but you won’t accept that, will you? Don’t you see? We could put our differences aside, become allies. They want to be a part of the world stage. They’re not about to compromise this opportunity; it’s all simple face-saving.”

 

Face-saving? That’s how he sees it? “And Israel? How would they like that result? The headlines will scream ‘U.S. and Iran BFFs, Israel Left Out in the Cold.’ That’s not going to go over well in Tel Aviv.”

 

“They’re here at the table, too, Callan. They’re a part of this, they’re participating. The two sides are talking, for the first time in years, really talking. We can bring about a serious brokered peace, one that could last decades, centuries, even.”

 

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