Read Online Power Play by Patrick Robinson - Free Book Online

were nearer ground level. When the Iranians constructed them, the whole world was not against them.
    “It was only in the last three or four years before we hit them that they realized Natanz was vulnerable. And it was so damned difficult to get deeper into that mountain, they more or less started over, rebuilding at Qom. And right there they had a chance to get much deeper.
    “We knew that before we started the bombers might have to go in time and time again at Qom. Marc’s the best commander in the IAF and the bravest . . . That’s why he led them. If anyone could do it, we all knew it
would be Marc. My task was much easier. Natanz was less protected. Happily, we had the maestro at Qom . . . ”
    “Shut up, Andre,” said Marc, “and get us some coffee.” And then to Rani, “Don’t believe what he says. I just did what anyone in our strike force could do . . . ”
    “Bullshit,” said Andre, as he headed for the in-house embassy phone. “He’s some kind of genius in that F-161—that’s why he nailed the crater with the final killer delivery. It was his fourth attack . . . and he flew past three missiles and intense antiaircraft fire to make it . . . His plane was hit twice . . . God knows how he’s still alive . . . It was a sensational piece of flying . . . Don’t listen to him. He’s a lying little fighter pilot.”
    By this time all three of them were laughing, and Rani said, “Yes, I believe you, Andre. He is a lying little pilot. I once saw a picture of him with the little red ribbon pinned on his uniform. Even I never thought they gave it to him for his birthday!”
    “The Medal of Courage,” muttered Andre. “Guess why.”
    “Will you guys shut up?” said Marc. “This is embarrassing . . . ”
    “He will. I won’t,” chuckled Rani. “I have just one more question. How did you guys get through the Russian missile defense . . . that S-300 ground-to-air missile shield? Christ, how many hundreds of semistealth cruise missiles can it track? Can’t it take on ten intruders at a time with those mobile intercept batteries?”
    “We learned how to neutralize it, that’s all,” said Andre, smiling.
    “Yes, but how? Even now the Russians go on about its success rate at protecting their allies.”
    “Well, for a start, it’s nowhere near as good as the American systems that we have,” said Marc. “And we discovered that some years ago.”
    “Yes, but how did you learn?” asked Rani again. “Was it intelligence, stuff from guys like us working in Russia?”
    “Hell, no. We conducted a couple of long exercises against the Greek Air Force; spent days fighting it out with lasers above the island of Crete. We can never tell you how we did it; that’s classified. But if you check the map, you’ll see Crete is about the same distance from Tel Aviv as Tehran.
    “That gave us hands-on experience of the journey, the high-altitude refuel, and the time we needed to circumvent that defense system. We demonstrated to ourselves that an 850-mile distance could be negotiated, and we could fight, beat the S-300, and still get home.”

    “And I guess it worked.”
    “Almost,” replied Marc. “We lost two of our best guys at Qom and four at Natanz. I’d say that plant was more prepared than Qom, because they’d been working at it for longer. Their factory was not so deep underground, but their missile men were a bit sharper. Don’t listen to this clown, Andre, telling you they had an easier mission.”
    Coffee arrived, accompanied by a tray of small Russian blinis with caviar, and all three men were thoughtful.
    Rani spoke first. “Do you think Iran might be preparing some terrible revenge against us?”
    “Can’t say,” replied Marc. “I doubt it. We apparently scared them to death. Whatever they try, we’re ready. And if they did launch anything against us, I can tell you it would be the last thing they ever did.”
    “Well, gentlemen,” said Rani, “perhaps you might tell me why I’ve