Although the general is still your subordinate and faces disciplinary action if he wears the uniform but does not obey your command to be silent, we wish that this matter be resolved. We wish to hear your response to these charges."
"My response is that General Buzhazi is a liar, and is levying these charges merely to cover up his desperate attempt to precipitate a war with the Gulf Cooperative Council and the United States, his failed military operations, and to try to avoid demotion or dismissal," Nateq-Nouri said. "I strongly deny all his charges, and as commander in chief I hereby relieve him of command of the Pasdaran and the armed forces of the Islamic Republic."
The Imam turned to General Buzhazi and said evenly, "General, you may speak. President Nateq-Nouri has denied your charges. Under pain of dismissal and disgrace, you must prove your allegations. What is your response?"
"Here is my response, Your Holiness," Buzhazi shouted, raising a hand. The doors to the Cabinet chamber swung open, and two armed guards escorted a prisoner inside. The man wore a green-and-yellow prison jumpsuit and was chained at the wrist, ankle, and neck, plus handcuffed in front of his body for added effect. Both eyes were swollen and discolored, and his fingers were heavily bandaged. The barefoot prisoner walked with a great deal of pain.
"This man was pulled out of the Strait of Hormuz on the night of the enemy reconnaissance on the Khomeini carrier group," Buzhazi shouted, pointing a finger at the man in chains. "He was aboard the vessel that shot down two of our carrier-based fighters that evening. We have reason to believe that this man's vessel was the launch and control vessel for a small but sophisticated stealth reconnaissance aircraft that was photographing the Khomeini carrier group and was in fact passing along information to the American CIA, forces of the Gulf Cooperative Council, and Israel.
Our fighters sank his vessel, but not before several of his fellow crewmen abandoned the ship and escaped safely to the United Arab Emirates."
Buzhazi looked at his prisoner and smiled eerily. "We recovered several bodies as well, some of whom appear to be American military personnel, possibly American Marines." The prisoner closed his eyes, as if in great pain; the assembled men noticed this and nodded, as if he had just admitted the fact. "Their clothing had been carefully stripped of all identifying tags. My staff says this is a typical procedure for a spy vessel."
The Ayatollah Kalantari motioned for the guards to bring the prisoner forward, toward the Cabinet table; room was made for him at the table, and he stood before the Imams, battered and weak but head erect, staring at the clerics and the others assembled around the table. "Your name, sir?" Kalantari ordered. "You have permission to speak."
His order was translated by his crier, and the response translated for the Council: "My name is Paul White," the prisoner replied.
"I'm the executive officer and purser of the S.S Valley Mistress.
Look, Your Honor, I haven't been able to call my family and tell them I'm all right, and I haven't been allowed to call the U.S. consulate. Your jets sank my ship, several members of my crew are dead, and I demand to know-"
"Silence, Mr. White," Kalantari said through his translator. "You will be allowed to contact your family only after your identity and purpose for your voyage have been confirmed."
"But, Your Honor, I was nowhere near your aircraft carrier," White interjected. "My ship was at least fifty miles away-"
"Silence, or you will be returned to your prison cell," Kalantari said. "Answer my questions. What kind of ship is this Valley Mistress?"
"It's a rescue-and-salvage vessel," White responded. "We can raise small ships, recover items from deep water, tow large vessels, conduct major power-plant and hull repairs afloat or-"
"What were you doing in the area shadowing our aircraft carrier group?"
"I run a salvage operation, Your Honor," White said. He cracked a thin smile and shrugged, giving the council members a sheepish expression. "Frankly, Your Honor, your ships were in pretty poor shape, and you were pushing them hard. My ship can... er, could, take any one of your ships in tow, including your carrier, and we can fix any power plant with the exception of course of your nuclear stuff. We're pretty good at minor repairs, too--motors, engines, appliances, electronics. Plus, we carry a goodly amount of supplies--oil, gasoline, diesel, frozen food, electronics, videotapes--and many vessels invite us to trade with them. But I never came near you guys, Your Honor. Usually if someone needs help, we'll come running, but we never approach unless waved in because we're afraid of making you nervous, and you got all the guns. I swear, we never-"
"If I may, Your Holiness?" Buzhazi asked. Kalantari raised a hand, permitting him to continue the questioning. "Do you also carry Stinger antiaircraft missiles as part of your 'rescue' inventory, Mr. White?" Buzhazi asked through the interpreter.
"Stingers? I don't know anything about any Stingers, Sir...
"Our patrol helicopter observed two Stinger missile launches coming from your ship, Mr. White... or should I say, Colonel Paul White," General Buzhazi interjected. Reading from a folder handed to him by an assistant, he continued in a loud voice: "Colonel Paul White, supposedly retired United States Air Force. Your last military assignment was the 675th Weapons Evaluation Group, Hurlburt Field, Florida, as an engineer working on weapons and equipment for secret special operations units--this Hurlburt Field is very close to the American special operations headquarters in Florida and the United States Air Force's special operations wing at Eglin Air Force Base. Six months after your official retirement in 1990, you are manifested as the purser aboard the salvage vessel Valley Mistress as you transit the Red Sea, and later as you transit the Strait of Hormuz, destination Bahrain, just before the start of hostilities against Iraq..."
"Hey, General, everyone knew a war was starting in the Persian Gulf--I wasn't alone," White said. "Lots of opportunities for a good salvage company, as long as no one confuses you for a warship and puts a bomb down your stacks."
"How does a retired Air Force officer secure a position on a salvage vessel sailing through the Middle East?"
White shrugged again and replied, "I needed the work, and they needed an electronics guy. Lots of jobs were opening up before the war--even in Iran. Everyone knew the shit... er, pardon me, sir, everyone knew there was going to be trouble."
"It seems your Valley Mistress was right on the spot in many such conflicts," Buzhazi went on. The rest of the Council, except Nateq-Nouri, were fixed at absolute attention.
"Your ship was in the Philippines before the start of hostilities with the Chinese; in the Yellow Sea just before the accidental conflict between North and South Korea involving the hypersonic Aurora spy plane; in the Baltic Sea just before the start of hostilities between the United States and Russia over Lithuania; in the Adriatic during the recent Marine invasion of Bosnia; and even in the Bosporus just before hostilities between Ukraine and Russia."
Buzhazi gave the folder back to his aide. "In each one of these incidents, Colonel White, the United States had sent secret paramilitary and special forces troops into the area to conduct espionage, demolition, search-and-destroy, sabotage, assassination, and kidnapping missions. In several such instances, helicopter-borne forces appeared out of nowhere, and it was determined in some situations that the aircraft could have come from nowhere else but your ship. Your ship, it has quite a large helicopter platform, does it not?"
"It did--before your fighter jocks sank it, killed my men, and put me out of business!" White retorted. "Listen, General, Your Honor, sure, I was at all those places, but I run a salvage-and-rescue company--we're supposed to go where the fur is flying, if you know what I mean. Sure, I used my buddies in the Air Force to find out where something was going to go down. We always sit near where something might happen because we make our money by recovering items of value. Yes, we have a large helicopter pad and a small hangar facility, but that's because a helicopter gives us added speed and reach--we are a rescue company also, as well as salvage. Lots of private companies and contractors h
ave used our facilities, but I've never had any spies on board! That's crazy, General."
"Then perhaps you can tell us," Buzhazi said, accepting a large black-and-white photograph from his aide, "why a salvage ship would be using an SPS-69 air search radar'?"
"A what? Excuse me, General, but I don't know what that-"
"An SPS-69 radar, capable of searching for aircraft out to ranges in excess of one hundred fifty kilometers," Buzhazi explained. "A rather sophisticated piece of equipment for a salvage vessel. Our naval forces found such a device just a few hundred meters from your ship. Here is a photograph of the antenna after it was recovered from the bottom of the Strait of Hormuz."
"Oh, you mean that old piece of... er, that old thing?" White responded innocently, trying to smile through the pain in his legs and back. "We recovered that off the coast of Florida near the U.S. Navy's junk area. We use it for publicity photos for the company--it makes our ship look real high-tech. I honestly have no idea what that thing did. If you say it's an air search antenna, General, I believe you, but we certainly don't go around tracking aircraft. Why would we?"
"We have also found significant amounts of debris on the bottom, mostly electronic devices--they appear to have been destroyed by small explosive charges planted inside them, as if someone did not want them identified," Buzhazi went on. "We are retrieving them as quickly as possible, and we will make identification shortly.
The commander of the Khomeini carrier group also reported encoded satellite transmissions from your ship, which he believed were used to send signals to a stealth reconnaissance aircraft that overflew the battle group."
"I swear, Your Honor, I don't know what he's talking about!"
White pleaded. "We use satellites for navigation and communications, sure, but we don't use it to steer stealth reconnaissance planes--I don't even know what that is."
"You are a spy, Colonel White," Buzhazi shouted, "employed by the American Central Intelligence Agency and working in concert with Ali Akbar Nateq-Nouri to undermine our country's defensive military forces and make us vulnerable to the despotic, imperialistic West."
"A spy! CIA! Me, working with your President? That's insane!"
White retorted in shock and surprise--it was the best acting job he had ever done, because he was fighting for his life. He turned to Nateq-Nouri and said, "Tell them, Mr. President. Tell them I'm not working for you." He affixed Nateq-Nouri with a determined, warning stare and, carefully emphasizing his words, said, "Tell them I don't know a damned thing about the CIA or spying or anything but fixing radios and running a salvage ship."
"General Buzhazi is lying, Mr. White," Nateq-Nouri said in Farsi, understanding White's English well enough without having to wait for the translation. "He is trying to cover up his failures by accusing me and anyone else he can of conspiracy. You may indeed be a spy, and I would suspect as much, but we are not working together, and I never would."
Buzhazi turned to the Ayatollah Kalantari. "Your Holiness, I ask that the prisoner be held in maximum security until more evidence of his espionage activities can be collected. I anticipate this will take at least four to six more weeks. No one in the United States has complained yet about Colonel White's absence, lending even more credibility to his role as a spy."
"Your request is granted," the Ayatollah Kalantari replied. "We find more than sufficient evidence to hold this man to stand trial for espionage and for attacking and destroying Iranian government property on the high seas. Take the prisoner away."
Guards grabbed White and pulled him toward the door. "Hey, General, Your Honor, can't I call my family? Can't you treat my injuries? Why are you treating me like an animal? I don't know anything about Stinger missiles or radars or spies or anything!
I'm innocent, I swear to God and on my mother's eyes, I'm innocent!"
"Do not use the name of God to cover your lies!" the Ayatollah Kalantari shouted. "Blasphemer! Tool of the devil! Take his filthy carcass away!"
White ignored Kalantari and Buzhazi, looked directly at President Nateq-Nouri and said in passable Farsi, as if no one else were in the room, "Mr. President, think of the future. Your chief of staff is betraying you. You need help. Help me, and I will help you."
"You see! You see!" Buzhazi exclaimed. "The prisoner knows our language, and he attempts to communicate with his co-conspirator! That proves Nateq-Nouri's guilt!"
"I demand to notify the American authorities of my capture!"
White shouted in Farsi. "I demand justice! What kind of government is this?" But they all ignored him as he was dragged out of the council chamber.
When all was quiet again, Kalantari addressed Buzhazi: "This is remarkable testimony, General, and will be given full weight in regard to the United States' treacherous activities." He cleared his throat. "However, although highly inflammatory and serious, nothing we have heard proves President Nateq-Nouri's complicity in any conspiracy against the military. If you have any evidence, now is the time to present it or accept the consequences. Do you have any such evidence?"
"I do, Your Holiness," Buzhazi replied. Time for the final toss of the dice. His aide passed him a folder. "A transcript of a phone conversation between the senior assistant minister of defense, Minister Foruzandeh's chief deputy, and a Turkish civilian named Dr. Tahir Sahin. Sahin had apparently just met with the American President's National Security Advisor and the American Secretary of State and warned Foruzandeh of an imminent attack on the Khomeini battle group by unnamed American military forces. The attack began minutes after this phone conversation; Minister Foruzandeh met with President Nateq-Nouri and Foreign Minister Dr. Velayati about a half hour later. Yet no one in the Minister of Defense's office, the Foreign Ministry, or the President's office bothered to contact me or warn anyone of the Minister Velayati's office did make several calls to the United States and to the unbeliever Muhammad ibn Rashid of the United Arab Emirates."
"Again, General Buzhazi is dramatizing routine diplomatic contacts," President Nateq-Nouri interjected. "Yes, I directed Dr. Velayati to contact the UAE foreign office, but only to advise them that military aircraft would be departing Bandar Abbas on emergency air patrols over our own airspace--it is a routine courtesy call, nothing more, designed to prevent any danger of appearing as if we are attacking them."
"A 'routine courtesy call,' put through directly to the tool of Satan, the Emir of Dubai himself? It sounds like more than a simple 'courtesy call,' Mr. President. Yet you did not think it necessary to notify me or your field commanders of information of an impending attack on the aircraft carrier battle group or on Chah Bahar Naval Base--an attack that was conducted by an attack aircraft owned by the Emir of Dubai himself, flown by UAE commandos in the employ of the Emir of Dubai? It sounds as if you cleared this attack plane to attack yourself, Mr. President! The conspiracy is clear, Your Holiness!"
"The attack was already in progress by the time we were in contact with Dr. Sahin, a loyal and trustworthy servant of Allah and of this government--there was nothing we could do except prepare for the possibility of hostilities breaking out all across the region, if this was part of a larger attack against us." Nateq-Nouri turned angrily at Buzhazi. 'None of this would have happened, Buzhazi, if you had not sunk that American vessel in the first place!"
"I was trying to protect our military forces from another sneak attack by the Gulf Cooperative Council states and their overlord, the United States," Buzhazi shot back. "Because of your order, I was prevented from employing my ground forces adequately to stop any further attacks, and the result is what you have seen." He turned to Kalantari. "Your Holiness, we have suffered great damage, and it is because of this man. I demand that he resign his office and turn control of the government over to the Leadership Council until the crisis has subsided and new parliamentary elections can be held. If he will not step down voluntarily, I ask that the Leadership Council strip him of his office and conduct an investigation of his criminal activities.
To allow him to co
ntinue his evil activities for even one more day may harm the Islamic Republic for decades yet to come! I demand-"
"Silence, General," the Ayatollah Kalantari interjected. The President and the general glared at each other, Buzhazi with a satisfied grin, Nateq-Nouri with a confused and overwhelmed expression. "General Buzhazi, you have not yet proven your case before us, but the charges are serious and the evidence against the President, although circumstantial, is compelling." He turned to Nateq-Nouri and said in a low voice, "Speak Mr. President. What will you do?"
Nateq-Nouri was thunderstruck. Buzhazi was going to win either way, and there seemed nothing he could do to prevent it. It was time to save his own skin, so there would be a skin to save later on when Buzhazi's plans failed and Iran's military forces were crushed. "Your Holiness, the Leadership Council and the Council of Guardians has the power at any time to assume administrative leadership of the Islamic Republic," Nateq-Nouri said. "I serve at the pleasure of Allah, His Holiness the Faqih, and the chosen of the Leadership Council. I swear to you that I am no traitor, and that I have not conspired with anyone against the Islamic Republic. But if you wish me to step down, I will agree." The Cabinet officers surrounding Nateq-Nouri couldn't believe their ears. It was obvious that General Buzhazi, disgraced in the eyes of everyone in government, had been shooting in the dark with his accusations and wild stories--but no one had expected Nateq-Nouri to bend to his threats and accusations! Was there really something to all of Buzhazi's charges?
Dale Brown - Shadows Of Steel Page 28