Dead or Alive - Tom Clancy [202]
“Testing the waters, see how we react,” Kilborn replied. “The longer we delay in drawing down, the more time Tehran has to work behind the scenes with the Shia militias. If an incursion doesn’t reverse our drawdown now they’ve got a preview.”
“I disagree,” Admiral Netters said. “They’ve got nothing to gain and everything to lose by crossing the border. Moreover, they’re light on triple-A.”
“Explain.”
“They’re fielding only token antiair elements. That’s not an oversight. They know if we come at them, it’ll be from carriers in the Gulf first.”
Kealty’s National Security Adviser, Ann Reynolds, said, “A message?”
“Again, Ms. Reynolds, that falls into the ‘intentions’ category, but I’ll tell you this much: For all their shortcomings, the Iranians aren’t blind, and they’re big believers in the Soviet order of battle model, which is big on mobile antiaircraft systems. They saw what we did during Gulf One and Two, and they haven’t forgotten it. You don’t strip out your antiair elements just for the hell of it.”
“What about air cover?” This from NSA Reynolds. “Fighters?”
“No change,” Netters replied. “Nothing moving but routine patrol flights.”
President Kealty was frowning. A fly in his soup, Netters thought. He’d promised the country he’d get the United States out of Iraq, and the clock was ticking, but not on the troops or America’s strategic welfare but rather on Kealty’s chances for a second term. Of course, Netters had from the outset his own reservations about the Iraq War, and he still did, but those were dwarfed by the very real possibility of getting it wrong over there. Like it or not, the United States was up to its eyeballs in the Middle East, more so than it had in perhaps its entire history. A painless withdrawal was a pipe dream Kealty had sold to an understandably war-weary nation. While the current drawdown plan would never succeed, it was measured enough that Iraq would slowly slip into chaos rather than fall headfirst into it, in which case he hoped Kealty would have the good goddamned sense to regroup and listen to the theater commanders.
In one respect, Scott Kilborn was correct: This business on the border may well be a preview of Kealty’s endgame for Iraq without American troops, though whether Iran would actually put troops on the ground once U.S. forces were gone was anyone’s guess. If they did, however, they’d use soaring Sunni-on-Shia violence to justify it.
It was a perplexing game the Iranians were playing. A delay in U.S. troop withdrawal seemed contrary to Tehran’s interests—or at least those visible from Washington.
Kealty leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “So, Admiral, since you’re not willing to talk about intentions, I’m going to do it for you,” Kealty said. “The Iranians are saber rattling. Testing our resolve. We ignore them, keep to the drawdown plan, and give them a message of our own.”
“Such as?” Admiral Netters said.
“Another carrier group.”
A message. Another mission without a goal. While it was true enough that carrier groups were all about projection of power, the concept was analogous to basic firearm safety: Never point a gun at anything you don’t intend to shoot. In this case, Kealty just wanted to wave the gun around.
“What assets do we have available?” Kealty demanded.
Before Netters could answer, Kilborn said, “The Stennis—”
Netters interrupted. “Sir, we’re stretched thin as it is. Stennis group was just relieved on station ten days ago. It’s long overdue for a—”
“Goddamn it, Admiral, I’m getting tired of hearing about what we can’t do, is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr. President, but you need to understand the—”
“No, I don’t. That’s what you’re paid to do, Admiral.