Hunter Killer by Patrick Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

surface, in the normal way, the very picture of innocence.”
    Gaston Savary really liked this suave and knowledgeable Admiral, who looked extremely young to hold such a high office and rank. But he was not young in thought, and he had grasped the significance of the problem very swiftly, as indeed had General Jobert.
    “I should of course like to speak to Admiral Romanet first,” said Georges Pires, looking at Savary. “He’s our Flag Officer Submarines in Brest. And I don’t want to second-guess him. But I would say we could hit our missile targets on both coasts from submerged SSNs. And, certainly, in my own area of operations, we could send in teams of commandos to take out the loading platforms and offshore rigs…the Saudi Navy has never been up to much. They’d be no trouble whatsoever.”
    The Admiral paused, looked thoughtful. Then he said, “Those platforms are big constructions though. We’d probably need a mix of RDX (research-developed explosive), TNT, and aluminum. And the frogmen would have to swim in with twenty-five-kilogram watertight satchels. And we’d use timers, so the swimmers and perhaps an SDV and the submarine, could get clear before the blast. But we could do it. Most certainly we could do it.”
    Admiral Pires again paused. And then he added, “But the Navy’s role is only the beginning, correct? And so I will leave you, while I confer with Admiral Romanet.”
    “I’d prefer you bring him here,” said General Jobert. “I think at this early stage, while we are just appreciating the situation, all discussions should remain under this roof.”
    “Aha,” said Admiral Pires. “Already we are slipping into the black ops mode, already it is occurring to you that we may be ordered actually to carry out this assault on our robed brothers in the desert. Or, at the least, on their oil wells.”
    “That’s the trouble with you guys. You always say yes,” said Gaston Savary.
    “That’s because we are loyal servants of the republic,” replied the General. “We are here to do the bidding of the politicians. And we try, if asked, to achieve the impossible.”
    “But a half hour ago, you thought this would be impossible, without getting caught.”
    “I do not think that now,” replied the senior commander of COS. “I believe we could smash the Saudi oil industry with missiles and frogmen from those two SSNs. And never be detected.” Gaston Savary stood up. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have been entrusted to conduct this study on behalf of the Foreign Minister and the President himself. I would be grateful, Admiral, if you would stay for the second part of our discussions. I have enjoyed listening to your views and I think you may have more ideas to give us.”
    Savary was not the first high-ranking French official to single out the forty-six-year-old Georges Pires as a top-flight military intellect, a career officer who may yet find himself in the Palais Bourbon as a member of the French Parliament.
    “Honored sir, I assure you,” replied the beefy Commando Chief, whose splendid family summer home, for three generations, was situated on the waterfront of St. Malo, less than 100 miles from the great French naval base at Brest. The Navy had always been his life, although he had found time to be married twice and divorced twice before his fortieth birthday. There was a slightly roguish look to Georges Pires, but his rise to high office in the principal assault section of the French Navy had been exceptionally swift.
    Savary continued. “Well, General Jobert, perhaps you could outline for us anything you may know about the Saudi military defenses—on land, I mean.”
    “Yes, of course,” Jobert said. “Let me switch on this big-screen computer, and I will tell you what I know, which is fairly standard but will show you the size of the task.” General Jobert stood back and used an officer’s shiny wooden baton to point to the map of Saudi Arabia. “They have an overall strength