by James Huber
The entire training camp was destroyed. The only evidence came from a satellite in stationary orbit over the Straits of Hormuz.
Massive explosions destroyed ammunition dumps and gas and fuel tanks sitting out in the open. The Navy launched cruise missiles with FAE, fuel-air explosives, that dispersed an aerosol cloud of fuel that was ignited by an internal detonator to produce an explosion. The rapidly expanding heat blast created overpressure that flattened all objects within close proximity of the epicenter, creating debilitating damage well beyond the flattened area. The main destructive force of FAE was high overpressure, which was useful against soft targets like minefields, armored vehicles, parked aircraft, and bunkers. The cost in human life was never discovered.
Thirty minutes later, President Behead and members of the Revolutionary Guard walked into the ayatollah’s courtyard. He hadn’t held true to their time-honored tradition that followers of Mohammed had all the time in the world. Instead of being patient and working things out slowly, he moved too fast. The Prophet Mohammed said that when one was harmed, he must show patience, but the ayatollah couldn’t wait. The Council of Experts judged him to be a revolutionary, so he had to go.
The commander of the guard knocked on the door and wasn’t surprised to see the ayatollah answer with a resigned expression. He knew he overstepped his bounds and failed again.
“Please accompany me to the car,” President Behzadi said.
The ayatollah went quietly, praying he would be forgiven and welcomed into Allah’s arms if it was his last day on earth.
President Green went on TV to announce the attack on the California oil fields. He also mentioned an attack on a desolate area of Iran but didn’t say if the incidents were related. “I regret relations between Iran and the US aren’t closer. The world faces a serious time. The more friends a country has, the better off it is. We will open dialogue with the Iranian government as soon as an appropriate time of mourning passes.”
Leaving the press room, he was in a serious mood until reaching his apartment. Ambassador Catherine Blakely was waiting for him with a gin and tonic, a minimum of ice, and a smile nicer than his.
“Ray, how do you do it?” she asked. “You looked like a true mourner for those poor Arabs. I almost believed it.
“MI-6 tells me there’s been a shakeup in Teheran at the highest level. The Council of Experts was seen at the ayatollah’s residence almost immediately after the explosions in the desert. Now it’s quiet. I guess his adventurism caught up with him.”
Ray smiled. “It seems like it.”
In a small town outside Shiraz, an elderly man in a black burka cleaned the steps of the government buildings. He appeared healthy, though he had a very resigned look as he muttered prayers.
In the diplomatic area of Teheran, former diplomat to the Columbian embassy fell in front of a speeding truck near the main mosque.
Elsewhere in Teheran, an elderly man donned the white kufiyah for the first time. The new ayatollah was very conservative and realized his fate, and that of his religion, required time and patience.
He had both. His seat on the Council of Experts was taken by a younger, more-conservative member. Adventurism wasn’t a creed that Iran would follow for many years.
In the previous year, Iran lost two ships, 200 commando- trained soldiers, a training camp, and two foreign diplomats. They also lost a potential insider in Washington when the vice president died. The Iranians hadn’t given up. They were simply waiting.
Ray Green rolled over and hugged the person in bed beside him, rejoicing that he met Catherine Blakely.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
In the Fort Worth capitol building, the stage was set for an important meeting. Colonel Roberts increased security around the building on par with a presidential visit. Some newspaper reporters and talking head TV reporters complained, but Roberts and his deputies ignored them, even when the reporters muttered comments about the Gestapo and SS tactics. Roberts didn’t care. They just wanted to increase their ratings so a toilet paper manufacturer could sell more rolls that week.
When the motorcade arrived, Colonel Roberts had the band strike up three ruffles and flourishes for the arriving dignitaries. The first notes rang out when US Secretary of State Kirby’s foot touched the pavement. A short pause followed, then three more ruffles and flourishes sounded as Attorney General Lillian Tremont’s foot emerged. Kirby was impressed. Tremont wasn’t.
Her scowl accompanied her into the capitol. Colonel Roberts, walking beside her, made a face at the guard detail standing at the door. They kept their faces straight until the dignitaries passed through the doors.
When Kirby and Tremont arrived at the rotunda, Ambassador Randall and General Polk met them. Secretary Kirby, always a diplomat, shook hands and greeted them. He managed not to call Randall a traitorous SOB. President Green worried about Kirby’s self-control, but Kirby was a professional.
When Lillian was introduced, she looked Polk up and down and asked, “General? Of what?” She gave him a limp handshake and stepped to Randall, calling him by his first name. He was nomore impressed by her than she was by him.
Attorney General Tremont handed her briefcase to Colonel Roberts. “Here, Officer. Carry this to my meeting place.”
He refused to take it. “You interest me, Madam. I don’t carry bags, nor do I suffer insults to my government’s officials lightly. I propose that you act like a representative of the United States of America or you return to DC so Ray Green can find someone more agreeable for us to deal with.”
He walked away to check the guard detail, leaving Lillian staring at him in shock.
“No one ever spoke to me that way,” she said.
“You can’t say that anymore,” Kirby replied. “To think Ray was worried about me. Lillian, the colonel is right. Whether you like it or not, you’re a guest here at their pleasure, and you represent the President of the United States. I know these men better than you, and I’m sure they’ll overlook your breach of etiquette. They’ll attribute it to nervousness.
“However, if it happens again, I won’t overlook it. Now we have business to attend to.”
Twice in two minutes someone spoke to her like she never heard before. She felt humiliated and angry with herself.
Kirby and Randall were equals when it came to protocol and negotiating. Neither gave nor took too much. Within two days, agreements were made outside of treaty limitations.
Kirby agreed to offer long-range reconnaissance and fleet protection for the Coalition. Randall agreed to open the pipelines through Texas and Louisiana to supply the East Coast with fuel oil and natural gas. Oklahoma and Kansas would do the same for the north-central states.
The states that received gas and oil would pay fair market price upon delivery, with payment made in gold, silver, or natural resources to be agreed on before receipt. If and when reconnaissance or protection was needed, the Coalition would pay the US immediately in gold or US negotiable instruments.
The US would not become involved in land, sea, or air combat actions unless such posed a threat to the US itself. No credit was offered or asked for.
Of course, such agreements weren’t that simple. The terms
covered many pages of paper. In the end, it was simply a common agreement to render aid if needed and to sell goods and services as required.
There was only one dissenting vote, from Governor Espada of New Mexico. She didn’t want anything from the US, nor did she want to sell them anything or accept their good intentions. She was almost as militant as Attorney General Tremont.
Tremont settled into her role of negotiator admirably, but Espada hadn’t yet done so. The other governors noted the fact but didn’t comment on it. It wasn’t their problem. She had been duly elected by the people of New Mexico, so they could live with the consequences.
Elliott Randall, disappointed in Amalia’s stance, hoped she would moderate her thinking and cooperate enough to get through the current difficulties. Sh
e refused to discuss it at all, so he let the issue pass. Maybe she would come around, or she might be defeated in the upcoming elections.
Randall didn’t think the Coalition would fall under the influence of the US, but he felt the two countries needed to converse. They were like two people who once shared the same values, wants, and desires.
Colonel Roberts was fed up with women. Still irritated by Attorney General Tremont, he felt Governor Espada was contentious all day.
He wondered if General Polk was right. Perhaps he should dedicate his life to law enforcement and security and forget having a personal life. He was still thinking that over when the delegates departed for the day, and he assigned security details to all of them.
Only one delegation stayed in Fort Worth. Colonel Roberts thought about that when an armored vehicle pulled up at the curb, and a sharply dressed Coalition Air Force captain asked, “Hey, Soldier. Buy a lady a drink and dinner?”
Suddenly, his thoughts vanished. He boarded the armored car and smiled at the beautiful Captain Carmen Woodward. They drove to a favorite restaurant that served chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, cream gravy, and pinto beans on the side, washed down with cold beer.
Life suddenly felt good to Scott Roberts. Carmen was a real woman, not a politician or government appointee.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The executive jet landed at Andrews Air Force Base, and the passengers immediately boarded a helicopter to fly to the White House. President Green and Colonel Hamilton met their guests at the door. Hamilton cleared the hall and escorted them to the Oval Office. No one was surprised to find Lady Catherine already there.
Attorney General Tremont asked, “Is Lady Catherine cleared for what we’re about to discuss?”
“Yes, Madam, she is,” Colonel Hamilton replied. “The ultimate authority, who’s standing beside you, cleared her earlier.”
Tremont, seeing the expression on Kirby’s face, immediately shut up.
“Let’s hear it,” President Green said. “I want all the details.
Who cooperated? Who resisted? What did they offer?”
Secretary of State Kirby gave a summation and added, “All the governors agreed except for Amalia Espada of New Mexico.”
Green shrugged and motioned him to continue.
“Elliott Randall’s the real power down there from the look of things,” Kirby said. “Kyle Harris is a good, loyal man but isn’t strong in the realm of negotiation. He’s certainly not a politician.
“I’d say Annette Dupree or Simon Tate might be the big power players now. Governors Kellog and Wilson seem to be along for the ride. If we contemplate further discussions, we need to concentrate on Dupree and Tate.
“Lillian had a lively conversation with Espada but got nowhere with her. We saw Randall talking to Espada, too, and he looked pretty exasperated. We don’t expect any trouble, but we won’t get much cooperation from her.”
“Mr. President,” Lady Catherine asked, “may I ask a question that might help us understand Governor Espada’s position?”
“Does anyone object?” President Green asked. The others shook their heads.
“What does New Mexico contribute to the Coalition that you need? What if she becomes totally reactionary and refuses to cooperate? What would be lost?”
“Oddly, enough,” Kirby replied, “most employment in New Mexico comes from the government. That’s ironic, because she always makes a fuss about taking anything from the government. She’s mixed up. The rest of her state’s economy is based on small holdings of oil, gas, and timber. The rest is tourism—camping, hiking, and seasonal skiing. When you ask what would be lost, Madam Ambassador, the answer is not a hell of a lot.”
He smiled. “Is that enough?”
“That clears things up,” Lady Catherine replied.
“Randall agreed to open the pipelines for oil and gas,” Kirby said.
“In return, the US Navy will remain in strength in Alabama and Florida, ready to help the Coalition if needed. Our two countries have agreed to exchange intelligence and reconnaissance as needed and as obtained.”
“Was there any chance of reconciliation or talks moving toward it?” President Green asked.
“No, Sir,” Attorney General Tremont said. “The subject came up a couple times and was met with stone-cold silence.”
“Lillian, did JJ behave himself?” She blushed slightly. “Yes, Sir.”
Lillian and Kirby were dismissed. As they walked out toward their individual cars, she said, “Thanks, JJ. I was an ass, and you saved it.”
“Forget it. All of us make asses of ourselves at times. I occasionally have earned that reputation.”
Lady Catherine turned to President Green. “Ray, do you think you’re accomplishing anything? I sense your frustration.”
“Yes. We have our oil and gas back, and I’ve provided for an exchange of intelligence information with the Coalition.”
“I know, but is it enough? You want to reunite your country, which I don’t see happening. The Coalition doesn’t need you. They prove that every day. They don’t even need help from Great Britain. I wonder if their movement is really that solid, or is it a house of cards ? The next strong wind might knock it down.”
“I don’t know. I’ve done what I can. The American people didn’t vote me into office. I was an appointment. I don’t have many political allies and absolutely no political experience. I’m taking things as they come.
“We’re practicing crisis management. We should start planning. Robert Curtis’s term, which I’m filling up, is over in less than eighteen months.”
“Are you thinking of running for election?” She almost feared his answer.
“No. I’m not a politician, and I’ve already given thirty-five years of service to my country. That’s enough. We’re on the right track with Curtis’s programs, and we’ve kept ourselves alive. I’m not tired, but I’ve had enough.”
“Thank you.” She wondered if what he said was true.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The agreement reached in Fort Worth was like a peace treaty between two nations. At least talks had begun. The hot heads cooled down, and business returned to normal. The Coalition helped the northeastern US survive winter without bankrupting everyone in that region. As a byproduct of the turbulent times, several small businesses blossomed into full-fledged industries.
Solar power took the place of many of the electrical generating
stations in the northern US. When sunshine wasn’t available, wind was. Wind farms spread through the cornfields of Illinois, Iowa, Indiana, and as far north as New Hampshire and Vermont.
The people of the northeast traditionally relied on burning wood for heat. With the demise of the EPA, that increased. Wood- burning furnaces and water heaters quickly became as popular as computers. Manufacturers and installers couldn’t keep up with the demand.
One former president became a lobbyist. No matter how much money his Middle Eastern cronies pumped into his lobbying efforts, he wasn’t able to reinstitute crippling laws to stop wood and coal burning. He’d been successful at that when he was president, but Curtis did away with all those laws, which helped only the former president’s masters, the oil sheiks.
Also due to Robert Curtis’s efforts, the movement of tree huggers died a whimpering, moaning death. Their demise was long overdue. No longer could some oddball say people had to stop potato farming in Idaho because a heretofore unseen, left-handed, one-winged Cyclops, eight-footed worm was in danger. Such
people didn’t care about feeding people or a famer’s livelihood. They just wanted to save the worm.
The government learned, much to its amazement, that most people knew what they were doing. Farmers understood pesticides and didn’t need a San Julio tree hugger telling them what to do.
The news media slowly stopped covering environmentalism, and the movement faded away.
That brought blessings not only for farmers and people living in cold states. The Ca
nadian pipeline reached eastern Utah, providing needed oil to refineries there. Southwestern oil supplies were abundant and miraculously enough didn’t destroy any forests, aquifers, or day-care centers.
Everyone benefited from the treaty. Soon there arose a movement to rejoin the US or, as Texas wag John Ron Gibbons said, “Tell them they can join us, if they can keep in line and play nice.”
John Ron profited enormously from the birth of the new nation. He owned or controlled almost the entire drilling pipe, footers, and bits material sold to the country’s petroleum industry.
He also owned a large share of equipment he sold to Middle Eastern countries, which he sold at highly inflated prices. They paid, because his equipment was the best. John figured the Middle East gouged the US long enough. It was their turn.
He also stuck it to the diplomats who flooded into Fort Worth. His formerly worthless land on the city’s west side soon contained four housing developments, along with offices, office supply stores, restaurants, and malls. They were beholden to him for selling his land, and he shared the profits that came in.
John Ron wasn’t a king builder, though he supported his new nation as much as anyone through jobs, schools, hospitals, churches, and a few charities.
He checked into every project his companies became involved in. He often got as dirty as any well digger or concrete man, because he liked to know the people who worked for him.
John Ron was unusual in many ways. Someone suggested he run for governor, and he’d probably be chairman soon after that, but he didn’t want the cut in pay or prestige.
John Ron was friendly to all. He provided for many people
and was glad to do it. Someday, he hoped to serve his country, though not in politics.