by Jack Strain
The Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques and head of the House of Saud was attempting to juggle amid a desert haboob - the fearsome windstorms that often appear without warning and reach speeds up to sixty miles per hour. When it comes, sand and silt darken the sky and engulf all who stand in its path. War was coming to the Kingdom. What will be left behind, only Allah knows.
The only other person in the room when the American president called was his thirty-two-year-old son, Prince Mohammad bin Salman. Known around the globe as MBS for his extravagant lifestyle, he was also deputy Prime Minister and the youngest Minister of Defense in the world. Responsible for waging the war in Yemen, Prince Mohammad was the leading voice in the Kingdom advising the King to fight the growing specter of Iranian power and influence growing throughout the Middle East.
“Father, the American presence continues to grow, not just in the Kingdom but throughout the Gulf. Ships and planes have been arriving for the past two days, more are on the way. You heard the man. How do we say no?”
The elder man listened as his son talked, but he could not shake the voice of the American president. It was a voice of a man who had died inside and now wanted only revenge.
Revenge and tribal honor were familiar concepts to the heir of the great nomadic Bedouin tribes who once roamed the Arabian deserts. Great tales and legends were told from one generation to the next extolling men who would cross an entire desert to exact vengeance and reclaim his family honor. King Salman understood that the Bedouin code of Sharaf binds him and his people in this coming blood dispute between the Americans and the Iranians. Although the Americans are not people of the book, they have stood by the Kingdom in her darkest hours - have spilt blood in these very sands. The King felt honor-bound to support this grieving American, but at what cost?
The tall, handsome prince looked annoyed, and his voice clearly signaled a loss of patience. “Really, Father, how can your thoughts wander now of all times? I just said that the Americans won’t reveal their plans. I fear they don’t trust us enough.”
King Salman allowed his young son to rebuke him, Oh, Mohammad, you are indeed fortunate that I favor you so because I’m not that old and feeble . . . yet. A warm smile came to his face, and he responded lovingly, “My son, you heard the same voice as I, no? Wolfe seeks to destroy enemies of this Kingdom and expects our complete cooperation, and yet he does not trust us. Why do you think this is so?”
Feeling the pressure, the prince curtly replied, “Yes, I know he watched his daughter die, but…”
In a strong voice, the King suddenly said, “YES, he watched her die. He will never be the same man again. Never. Do you not think that I would burn every city in the Kingdom to find the man who killed my son or daughter? Blood for blood, my son. And this proud man requires much blood.”
A more contrite voice answered, “Yes, Father, I am sorry for not listening. It’s just that this is the moment we have talked about for years. America supporting the Kingdom to ensure that the rise of this aberrant Shia Crescent does not threaten the true Faith, but I fear this is not what this war will be about. Many of our brothers and sisters will die in the coming days, perhaps this will turn into a war against all of Islam. Then what?”
“Yes, there is great danger ahead. We have no choice but to pray that Allah will allow the American to feed his bloodlust against the Persians, protect the Kingdom and those who look to this House for protection. Prepare for the worst my son. Prepare my people for the fight to come. Now go, you have much work.”
Zhongnanhai, Official Residence of the President of the PRC
Beijing, PRC
The People’s Republic of China’s Paramount Leader, Xi Jinping held three of the most powerful posts in the Heavenly Kingdom: President, General Secretary of the Communist Party, and Chairman of the Central Planning Military Commission. Most of the world has a profound misunderstanding of how power in the most populous country in the world works. Although possessing extraordinary power and influence, Xi’s power derives from a carefully constructed, intricate power base built over the past three decades, even longer when one factors in the role of family politics and influence.
Since ascending to succeed the former leader Hu Jintao towards the end of 2012, Xi has led China in a more forceful - and what some describe as aggressive - manner, increasingly acting like the great power China has always viewed itself to be. In a carefully crafted strategy, Xi increasingly leveraged the power of the world’s largest economy to support his foreign policy goals. He increased military spending on more sophisticated and modern weapons, gradually expanding the size of the navy and adding more advanced planes and ballistic missiles, thus enabling the PRC’s Paramount Leader to assert Beijing’s influence and now, for all intents and purposes, dominate the South China Sea.
Xi believed that as China’s power grew, the United States was slowly eroding as the dominant superpower or hyperpower that it once was in the wake of the Cold War. However, for this process to continue towards its natural end, China required relative global peace and for the world’s economy to continue along its natural path. An essential element to this was the unrestricted flow of goods and materials across the world’s oceans, and especially the consistent flow of oil from the massive reserves found only in the Middle East.
This supply now appeared to be in jeopardy, and the People’s Republic of China was quite vulnerable to any disruption. Xi and the leadership of the Communist party were all well aware that while they continued to rule the 1.5 billion citizens of China, the rumblings of discontent and desire for more freedoms could be balanced as long as relative economic prosperity in the form of automobiles, consumer products, electricity, and economic security was maintained. This was the unspoken contract between the Party and the people, risk that and the Party risked losing power.
To become leader Xi needed to have relationships with hundreds, if not thousands, but he personally trusted only a handful of true advisors. Lui Xiang was one of them. Older than Xi, Lui was a friend of his father and served as his oldest and wisest longtime advisor. As one would expect, the residence and office of China’s President was a work of remarkable blended beauty and elegance, a mix of the ancient and the modern. Very much like the president himself.
Dressed more casually than President Xi, the seventy-eight-year-old Lui felt less inclined to wear the expensive three-piece Italian tailored suits so common in the halls of power these days. With his legs crossed relaxing, Lui watched as his young protégé was drawn as always to the large hand-crafted globe by the side of his desk. Even as a child, Xi was always mesmerized and inspired by the sight of his beloved country, the vibrant center of Asia and now the engine of the world’s economy. But this same globe also told another story, China’s vulnerability could be traced with his finger along the world’s two great natural chokepoints: The Strait of Hormuz and the Malacca Straits.
Sipping his tea, Lui said in his typical direct, guttural fashion, “You are right, my friend, to be worried. These Americans are unpredictable during the best of times, but what happened the other day . . . who’s to say what they will do?”
Xi looked up from the globe and turned towards his mentor and said, “We both read the intelligence reports this morning, their military forces are on the move around the world. This does not bode well.”
Lui could sense how frustrated his former pupil felt. Even though Xi earned a higher degree in the law and government, at heart, he was the chemical engineer of his youth. He wanted to follow a predictable formula, but none had ever foreseen such a turn of events. Taking a deep breath and loudly exhaling, Lui paused for a moment, and his eyes were drawn to a flight of sparrows rising into the grayish sky, a common sight around the old Forbidden City since the days of the Emperors.
I would fly away, too, my feathered friends, but I can’t fly away nor sit and watch as a spectator.
“We must assume there will be disruptions in the flow of goods in the days - perhaps even weeks - ahead. We have
our reserves.”
Somewhat annoyed at hearing the obvious, Xi said “I know we have reserves - barely sixty days’ worth and only if we begin rationing immediately. These damn Americans and all of their peace talk and accords - as if that will stop the savages from killing one another over there. Damn them.”
With a hint of humor, Lui added, “I hope that won’t appear in any diplomatic dispatches anytime soon.”
“This isn’t funny. I need answers.”
The older man cautioned, “No, you require patience. It is impossible to know what they are going to do. The only thing we do know is that the American president suffered an unimaginable, very public loss and needs to both save face but also to exact vengeance. Our people would demand no less.”
“So, what do you counsel?”
Lui came to his feet an ambled over to the ornate porcelain canter, poured his friend a fresh cup of tea, calmly placed it on his desk, and said, “No provocations. No demands. No formal declarations of any kind. Quietly raise our defense posture but work to keep the war out of Asia. We are not ready at this time.”
Grimacing a bit, the Chinese leader resented the Americans upsetting the world’s balance again. First, it was 9/11 and then the banking meltdown, Xi longed for the day when the Middle Kingdom would act as the responsible steward for an unpredictable world. He hated not being in control of events.
Taking a deep sip from his cup, Xi answered in a more accepting voice, “You are right my friend. We are not ready for any direct confrontation with the Americans, especially when their leader is so unbalanced, but neither are we ready for a global trade disruption. But the latter is more manageable, the former will have to wait for now as long as they respect our core interests.”
With a slight shrug, the older man said, “Then we make clear what those interests are and what line can’t be crossed. China is strong, stronger than this old peasant ever thought possible as a young man. Patience has been our friend and ally. Patience will see us through in the days ahead.”
The East Wing of the White House
Secret Service Agent Maria Sanchez stood outside the president’s bedroom door and struggled to remain vigilant during the early morning hour. The entire security detail had been pulling double duty and after seventy-two hours of “eight hours on and then off and then on again” were taking their toll. But Sanchez was a ten-year veteran of the security detail and now a senior member of the presidential team. It was no accident that she was guarding President Wolfe outside his bedroom. She earned it.
She was doing all the old tricks of the trade. Shifting her body weight from one side to the other, biting down on her tongue and cheek, replaying in her mind the last Redskins game against the Bears. Play by play, quarter by quarter, trying to remain focused and get through her shift. Sanchez nearly made it to the end of the first half when she heard movement in the bedroom and tried to get a sense of what was going on.
The president had not been sleeping very well at all these past two nights, and the detail was starting to get concerned. They prided themselves on not just protecting the president from danger, but also for looking out for his well-being. Suddenly the door swung open, and the president emerged from the room looking a bit dazed, barely acknowledging her.
“Mr. President . . . Sir, are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
Wolfe just shook his head and began walking down the Center Hall towards the Yellow Oval Room. Quickly putting her hand to her mouth, Sanchez said, “The Boss is on the move . . . heading to your post, Anthony. Heads up.”
The six-foot-three former Iowa State defensive tackle, Anthony Antonucci, was an imposing figure and the agent of choice to work the rope lines, but he had long since learned how to practically melt into the background when guarding his charge. It was the second night in a row the president came to the brightly lit Yellow Oval Room. Even at night, the room seemed to radiate a nurturing warmth.
Agent Antonucci watched as the president came into the room, walked around a bit aimlessly, then paused by the window. Next, he moved to the built-in white bookshelves and began looking at a few random books and knick-knacks. Finally, the president sat on the couch facing the fireplace looking near-despondent. He kept looking around the room - almost as if he was expecting his daughter to appear somehow suddenly. It was painful to watch. Finally, he lay down on his side, grabbed a pillow tight, and a faint hint of tears could be heard.
Very quietly backing out of the room, Antonucci spoke into his mic, “The Boss is secure, looks like he will be here awhile. Anthony out.”
Goddamn shame. That man ain’t ready to be here, he’s just not. Hang in there Mr. President, we’ve got your six.
Chapter Thirteen
October 14th
Israeli Prime Minister’s Cabinet Conference Room, Jerusalem
In September 1939, every ship in the Royal Navy flashed a simple message round the world, “Winnie’s back.” To signal the return of the British Bulldog out of the political wilderness to take command of the Royal Navy as war broke out in Europe. In a similar vein, the words “When will Bibi be back” reverberated throughout homes, synagogues, and army barracks. Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu, Israel’s longest serving Prime Minister was expected to be called to form an emergency government in the wake of the worst political crisis to strike Israel since the War of Independence.
Israel’s new President Yuli-Yoel Edelstein was suddenly thrust into the largely ceremonial position due to the death of President Reuven Rivlin who died while attending the opening ceremony of the Jerusalem Accords. Edelstein, the head of Knesset and a Likud Party member, boycotted the ceremony and automatically became President as a direct result. A longtime ally of Netanyahu, he felt tremendous pressure to reinstate him, but President Edelstein believed that with so many Knesset members dead or incapacitated, Israel had no other choice but to create a national unity government.
Netanyahu was probably the most controversial Prime Minister since Menachem Begin forty years ago and polarized Israeli politics so much so that it now more resembled the American political scene than any other. He ignored three phone calls from Netanyahu who obviously expected to get the call, instead Edelstein turned to perhaps the most trusted public figure in Israel, former General Gideon “Gid” Shalev.
General Shalev was a career army officer who served as a commando in his early years and later graduated to tanks. Popular amongst his troops, and a veteran of six major campaigns dating back to the 1982 invasion of Lebanon as a young lieutenant. He won national acclaim for his battlefield heroics during the much maligned 2006 Israeli campaign against Hezbollah. However, it wasn’t until his public clash with Prime Minister Netanyahu over the last invasion of Gaza when Shalev accused the PM of going into Gaza for political reasons and then pulling out too soon, also for political reasons. The fifty-five-year-old general was forced into retirement two years before it was mandatory.
Many former military men in Israel often answered the call of politics after their military careers ended, Shalev resisted all such requests until President Edelstein reached out to him directly. When he protested to the new Israeli President that he had no experience in government or politics and furthermore had no desire to serve other than in a uniform. Edelstein delivered an eloquent appeal.
His voice filled with emotion when he noted that throughout Israel’s history successful battlefield commanders answered the call to serve in time of peril and that Israel stood on the brink of annihilation now that Israel’s enemies had access to weapons of mass destruction.
Gideon Shalev was brought up like all Israeli children on the stories of the great men and women in Israel’s short, but violent history. The names David Ben-Gurion, Moshe Dayan, Yitzhak Rabin, Israel Tal, Golda Meir, and so many others who were revered because of their bravery and selfless devotion to Israel. In the end, Shalev could not in good conscience say no, but insisted upon a single condition.
He would act as Prime Minister for the duration of
the crisis, however long that may be, but would call for a general election ninety days after hostilities had ceased and then resign. Edelstein agreed to the terms.
The mood in the cabinet conference room was tense. It was nearly midnight and deep into the third such meeting of the national security staff of the day and tempers were short. General, now Prime Minister Gideon Shalev was dressed in light khaki pants and rolled up white collar button down collared shirt…he looked right out of a casting call from a movie.
All the military and intelligence general officers were present along with half a dozen cabinet members from various ministries. Chief of the General Staff, General Ari Doron was exhausted after being awake for much of the past forty-eight hours and grateful the air conditioning was going strong, hoping that the chill would help keep him awake.
Turning to the Defense Minister Leibowitz, he said for the third time that evening, “I won’t say it again Benny, your settlers are causing nothing but problems. Half of them are running around shooting up West Bank villages while the other half keep begging the Army to protect them from terrorists. Dammit, until this mobilization is complete I have my hands full.”
The devout and tireless settler proponent was not one to easily buckle under, replied, “What else does the Army exist for if not to defend our people.”
Prime Minister Shalev was already tired at playing politician and said, “Okay, that’s enough talk. I’m calling it a night. I’ve made my decision, we are going ahead with Operation Saber Thrust into Gaza and the West Bank and Operation Steel Rain against Hezbollah. Everyone has the most up to date briefing on both operations. Go home, see your families, and get some rest, tomorrow we meet again at nine a.m.”
Amidst much grumbling as the meeting broke up, Shalev pulled General Doron behind and they walked together to his new office. Once the door closed, Doron vented, “Even now we bicker like thieves in the Temple. What do these people want a perfect plan…a guarantee of absolute success? I can’t give that, and you of all people should know it.”