"It appears to be a moot point now, does it not, General?"
Khamenei commented.
"My point, Eminence, is that I should be given the tools to do my job if I am to defend the Republic properly from attack by our enemies," Buzhazi retorted. "Abu Musa Island and Greater and Lesser Tumbs belong to Iran, not to Sharjah or the so-called United Arab Emirates or the Gulf Cooperation Council or the United Nations or the World Court. I was given the task of defending the Republic, but my hands were tied by a President, his Cabinet, and a parliament afraid of stirring up resentment and hatred overseas, afraid of losing investors and popularity. What more do we surrender? Do we surrender Kermanshahan and Kurdistan to the murderous Kurds? Do we surrender the Shatt at Arab to the Butcher of Baghdad? Perhaps Turkmenistan would like the holy city of Mashhad?"
"Enough, General, enough," Khamenei interrupted, with a weary tone in his voice. "Why do you not take this matter up with President Nateq-Nouri? The task of commander-in-chief was delegated to him by His Holiness the Imam Khomeini."
"Eminence, the President's inaction in defense matters is plainly obvious to everyone," Buzhazi said. "He has reduced the budget of the Pasdaran to less than what we need for training and proficiency, and chosen to give it instead to the Basij militias as a form of public welfare and to buy votes for himself. We purchase advanced weapons, but no money is spent for spare parts or for building our own military infrastructure--again, the money goes to public-welfare programs to bribe factory owners and wealthy landowners who support him. Military base construction is at a standstill because he coddles the labor unions. The outcome was inevitable, despite all my warnings and precautions: Abu Musa Island's defenses have been destroyed, and the base is in danger of being retaken by American and Zionist sympathizers."
Khamenei could obviously recognize Buzhazi's flowery exaggerations, but he paused in thought. The conflict between the military and the civilian government had been brewing for some time, he thought, and this early-morning meeting was perhaps the wake-up call to action he had been anticipating--perhaps dreading.
It was time for Iran's clergy to take sides in this dispute: Support the government or support the military?
The Grand Ayatollah had known Ali Akbar Nateq-Nouri, the former speaker of the Majlis-i-Shura, Iran's Islamic Consultative Assembly, and former President Hashemi Rafsanjani's handpicked successor, since before the Revolution, and had watched General and so knew that the only thing between them was their uniforms.
Both men were intelligent, opportunistic, single-minded, power hungry, and ruthless. Both gave lip service to the role of Islam in the government, but neither truly believed that the clergy should have a strong voice in day-to-day affairs--an opinion that happened to be shared by many in Iran. "What is it you would have us do?"
"I have spoken of my plans many times, Your Holiness," Buzhazi said. "First and foremost, Iran and its territories must be protected. This is our most important goal, and we must do all we can to ensure it is done." He paused, then said, "We must prohibit all non-Arab warships from entering the Persian Gulf No aircraft carriers, no guided-missile cruisers, no submarines carrying Tomahawk missiles. These are all offensive vessels, designed to wage war on those who call the Persian Gulf home.
"The Khomeini carrier group must be made fully operational and deployed immediately to the Gulf of Oman to screen for foreign warships," Buzhazi went on. "As we have seen, even with proper warning, it still takes far too long for land-based aircraft to respond to an attack on the islands--only the carrier can properly defend the islands against very low-altitude attackers."
"The Chinese aircraft carrier? The rusting piece of flotsam in the harbor at Chah Bahar?" Khamenei said scornfully. "I thought we were using that to House the Chinese advisers, prisoners, Basij volunteers, and jihad members working on the base-construction project."
"The Khomeini is operational, and it is ready to help defend our rights," Buzhazi said. "We have a full complement of sailors, fliers, and weapons aboard, and the carrier's escort vessels are also ready to set sail. I had ordered the carrier to Abu Musa Island to assist with island defenses, but as all of our military forces, they were unprepared for this treacherous attack."
The Ayatollah Khamenei paused to consider that request. The Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini aircraft-carrier project had been a pie-in-the-sky project from the very beginning. The Russian aircraft carrier Varyag had been laid up at Nikolayev, Ukraine, since 1991, completely stripped of all essential combat systems; it had no radar, no communications, no aircraft, no weapons, only its nuclear power plant, a flight deck, and more than three thousand watertight compartments. The People's Republic of China had purchased the 60,000-ton vessel and made it an operational warship, but the world's political consternation at China owning and operating a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier in the fragile South China Sea and Sea of Japan region had been too great--if China had a carrier, Japan wanted five, and the United States wanted to base five more in the region--so those plans were shelved.
At the time, Iran had concluded a $2 billion arms deal with China, and relations between those two countries had been at an all-time high. The carrier had been moved to Iran's new military and oil terminal on the Gulf of Oman called Chah Bahar, where it had once again been laid up in floating storage. No definite plans had emerged for the ship: some said it was to be cut up as scrap, then as a floating hotel, then as a floating prison.
General Buzhazi had other ideas. Over the next eighteen months, the Iranians had begun to install new, relatively modern weapon systems on board the ship, including Russian anti-ship missiles, Russian aircraft, and state-of-the-art sensors and equipment from all over the world--all the while insisting to the world that they were "experimenting" or "assisting" China with its plans to convert the carrier for other uses. Then Iranian MiG-29 and Sukhoi-33 fighter crews had begun practicing carrier landings.
Since early 1996, both Chinese and Iranian crews had been training aboard the Varilag in carrier deck and flight operations in the Persian Gulf. At the same time, Chinese and Iranian crews had begun firing anti-ship missiles from the carrier, including the huge SSN-19 Granit supersonic missile, which was designed to sink a carrier-class ship over 200 miles away. In effect, both countries shared the cost of a completely combat-ready aircraft carrier.
"This aircraft carrier, it is ready to fight?" Khamenei asked.
"It is, Eminence," Buzhazi replied. "Twenty fighter aircraft, six helicopters, twelve long-range anti-ship missiles--it is one of the most formidable warships in the world. With our new Russian, Chinese, and Western surplus warships as escorts, the Khomeini can ensure that we will not lose our rights to the Persian Gulf."
"It will cause much fear among those who travel the Gulf," he pointed out.
"If it is Allah's will," Buzhazi responded. Normally he didn't care to use the real religious fundamentalist expressions with others, but of course it was necessary and proper to do so with the mullahs. "We fear only Allah, Holiness. Let others fear the Islamic Republic for a change. Your Holiness, we have a right to defend what is ours, and the Khomeini is the best weapon with which to do so. It has been in shakedown status far too long--we are ready to put to sea. Give the command, and we shall need worry no longer about protecting our Gulf from attack."
Buzhazi paused for a moment, then added, "Oil prices will of course be affected by this, Eminence." That got Khamenei's attention. His political fortunes were tied directly into the price of oil, and for the past several years both had been in a steady decline. "Even if we are not ultimately successful in closing off the Gulf from all foreign warships--if the Majlis and President Nateq-Nouri conspire against your wishes and the loyal people of the Islamic Republic--we will still benefit from the rise in oil prices. Iran can of course continue to ship oil to its Gulf of Oman terminus at Chah Bahar, but oil shipments from Gulf Cooperative Council states will be greatly curtailed."
Khamenei paused once again, but he had decided. The insuranc
e companies would double, perhaps triple the premiums on supertankers transiting the Gulf, and the shortage of oil would shoot prices to heaven. The rewards would be great. But the risks... The Faqih nodded. "It shall be ordered," he said.
"But we must be in the right always, General. World public opinion may favor Iran because we have been attacked by the oil-hungry West and their Gulf lap-dogs, but we must not allow the world to ostracize us once again. We are for peace, Buzhazi, always peace."
"Imotashakkeram," Buzhazi said, bowing as he gave thanks. "Your Holiness, I believe so strongly in this, that if you give the command, I shall take full and complete responsibility for the consequences. You may say that I was the mad dog, that I gave the order, and you may disavow all knowledge of my actions, I know in my heart that it is right, and I stand with Allah because I know he will stand with me."
"Will you stand with the thousands of our brothers who will be slaughtered by the forces of Satan when the world declares war on Iran for what it has done?"
"Eminence, war appears to be upon us already," Buzhazi pointed out. "I believe we will avert further conflict by executing my plan. The world will fear Iran once again. It will be hesitant to start a conflict that might escalate into real death and destruction at our hands. Give the command, Holiness. I stand ready to defend Islam and protect the Republic. I have the strength to do it."
Khamenei hesitated, then turned his back on Buzhazi--so the general could not see the look of concern on his face. But he said, "Inshallah, General. So by the will of Allah, let it be done."
"ABC WORLD NEWS TONIGHT WITH PETER JENNINGS"
"Iran's Leader of the Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Ali Hoseini Khamenei, blasted the Gulf Cooperative Council, the union of six pro-West Persian Gulf nations, today for what he claims was an attack on a, quote, 'defensive security and safety installation,' unquote, on a small island in the Persian Gulf in the early-morning hours, and has called on a 'holy jihad' against the GCC.
"Khamenei claims the attack by what he terms 'terrorists and saboteurs' of the Gulf Cooperative Council's action group called Peninsula Shield killed several dozen workers while they slept, and heavily damaged the island's electricity, fresh water, and living quarters.
"The island, identified as Abu Musa, is one of three small islands that sit very close to the oil transshipment lanes through the Persian Gulf. The islands were claimed by Iran in 1971 but were under joint jurisdiction of both Iran and the United Arab Emirates, one of the member nations of the Gulf Cooperative Council, until 1992, when Iran claimed all of the islands for itself.
"Spokesmen for the Gulf Cooperative Council in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, declined to comment, except to say that the GCC has often been blamed for actions by anti-Iranian government forces, notably the Mojahadin-i-Khalq, in an effort to stir up resentment and fundamentalist fervor against Iran's Arab neighbors in the Persian Gulf region.
"A U.S. State Department spokesman says he knows no details of the incident, but says that Iran has heavily fortified Abu Musa Island over the past few years with modern offensive anti-ship and antiaircraft weapons, and has resisted all efforts by the United Nations International Court to mediate the dispute. The State Department says no oil tankers or any American vessels or aircraft are in danger and says the Martindale administration is looking into the matter.
"Back in a moment."
IN THE GULF OF OMAN 124 MILES NORTHWEST OF MUSCAT, OMAN, SOUTHEAST ARABIAN PENINSULA 15 APRIL 1997, 0109'HOURS LOCAL (14 APRIL, 1639 ET)
The U.S.-flagged rescue-and-salvage vessel Valley Mistress was riding high and fast in the water these days; very few patrol boats had bothered to stop her as she made her way from the Mediterranean through the Suez Canal, down the Red Sea, and across the Gulf of Aden, Arabian Sea, and the Gulf of Oman.
Salvage-and-construction vessels were usually hard to search, they rarely had anything fun for customs officials to look at--just a bunch of cranes, tanks, chains, dirt, and nitrogen- and booze-soaked roustabout crews--and U.S.-registered and flagged vessels rarely carried exciting contraband like drugs, weapons, or humans. In any case, with its U.S. Naval Ready Reserve Fleet designation, the Valley Mistress was rarely detained--it carried almost the same right-to-pass exemption as a warship.
The Mistress was riding high right now because its 55,000-pound CV-22 Pave Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft, normally secretly stowed on the telescoping helicopter hangar on the aft deck, was off on a mission with several of its commands teams, including Chris Wohl and Hal Briggs; its current cargo was much, much lighter. The Valley Mistress was indeed a real salvage vessel, and it did many contract jobs as such all over the world--but it was also a sophisticated spy ship that conducted surveillance and special operations missions for the U.S. government. All sorts of classified missions had been conducted from the Mistress's decks, from shadowing a port, harbor, or vessel to reconnoitering a battlefield, rescue work, and all-out air and land combat. Any job that needed doing, anytime, anyplace, the crew of the Valley Mistress could do it.
Retired Air Force colonel Paul White stood on the aft deck of the Valley Mistress, arms crossed on his chest, watching the dark shapes working all around him. In addition to leading Madcap Magician, White was the senior officer in charge of the thirty-man "technical" crew of the Valley Mistress, which on this leg of their voyage--White's technical crews changed often, depending on the current mission requirements--consisted of engineers, technicians, and sixteen U.S. Marines, none in uniform.
All of the concentrated planning and rehearsing had already taken place, so, like Alfred Hitchcock, who had already meticulously plotted out each one of his shots before setting foot on a new movie set, White's job at this point was simply to observe his team in action, silently monitor their progress via the ship's intercom through his headset, and stay out of their way. Paul White was a thirty-two-year veteran, but had never been in combat except for brief stints as a communications repairman in Vietnam.
His specialty was electronics; he was a "gadget guy," designing and building sophisticated systems from spare parts--the parts could be leftover transistors, old radios, or old aircraft. White could take the oldest, most broken-down thing and make it better--and, more important, he could teach others to do it, too.
White's intercom crackled to life: "Lightfoot, Plot."
Without alerting his stance or changing his scan of deck activities, White keyed the talk switch on his headset cord: "Lightfoot, go."
"T-minus-ten radar sweep, no air activity, no surface activity within five miles," the radar operator aboard the Mistress reported.
"Copy," White responded. "Report every two minutes, report any surface activity within ten miles, Lightfoot out." White raised his head and watched as the retractable mast carrying the ship's SPS-69 X-band surface search radar began to extend. The range of the SPS-69 was limited to about six miles on a normal mast, but could be extended to almost fifteen miles by hoisting the radar to 100 feet--which was done only at night or in an emergency, because it looked very suspicious to have a search radar up so high on a noncombat vessel. Even more suspicious-looking on a "rescue" craft was the radar that was normally restricted into a housing just forward of the helicopter hangar--an SPS-40E B-band two-dimensional air search radar, which could scan for aircraft from sea level up to a 33,000-foot altitude and out to a 100-mile range. The Valley Mistress would probably not enjoy the same relatively unfettered access to most nations' territorial waters if those countries knew the ship had enough electronic search and communications equipment to control a surface or air battle at sea.
Over the din of deck activities, White heard another familiar sound, and he turned toward the starboard rail to see a young man wearing a headset leaning over the rail--way over the rail.
"Chumming for sharks," as the crew called it, was pretty rare on the stabilized Valley Mistress in good weather, but this poor guy had had trouble ever since he'd joined the ship. White smiled and keyed his intercom button: "You okay, Jon?"
&nb
sp; The man hurriedly wiped his mouth and face as if surprised someone noticed him, although there were men and women all around him, and he straightened and walked stiffly and unsteadily toward White.
Jonathan Colin Masters was thirty-eight years old, but he looked about fifteen. He had short brown hair that looked as if someone--most likely himself--had cut it with hedge clippers; normally a baseball cap worn backward hid his goofy-looking hair, but Masters had lost that hat days ago in one of his frequent visits to the rail. He had disarming green eyes and long, gangly legs and arms--but he also had one of the world's most finely tuned brains on the end of his thin pencil neck.
Masters, a Dartmouth graduate at thirteen, an MIT doctor of science at twenty, was the president of Sky Masters, Inc. an Arkansas-based research company that designed, built, and deployed small specialty aircraft and spacecraft. SMI products took the latest aerospace technologies and miniaturized them: he could turn huge Delta space boosters into truck-mounted launch vehicles, or multi-ton communications satellites into bread-basket-sized devices. He was aboard the Valley Mistress to supervise the progress of his latest development. "Feeling okay, Jon?" White asked as the boyish-looking engineer stepped toward him. The question was serious: repeated seasickness was just as debilitating as any other serious illness or disease, bad enough to cause problems even for a healthy, normally hydrated person; Masters was as skinny as a beanpole and the temperature and humidity in this part of the world were often both in the mid- to high nineties. "Why don't you stay inside where it Is air-conditioned?"
Dale Brown - Shadows Of Steel Page 3