Dale Brown - Shadows Of Steel

by Shadows Of Steel [lit]

  "I promise that if you have need of my services in the future, when General Buzhazi's lies are uncovered and all is in turmoil, you may call upon me, and I will serve the Republic once again," Nateq-Nouri went on. "I ask that I be provided with a security detail of my own choosing, because I fear I am not safe from the Pasdaran troops and Capital Guards commanded by General Buzhazi."

  "Your request is granted," the Ayatollah Kalantari said. "Until a tribunal is convened to hear the general's charges against you, you shall enjoy all the rank and privileges of the President of the Republic, and you may form whatever personal guard you desire."

  The Ayatollah Kalantari turned to the members of the Supreme Defense Council and said in a loud voice, "It is hereby ordered that His Holiness the Faqih, the Leader of the Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Ali Hoseini Khamenei, assumes leadership of the government of the Islamic Republic of Iran this day and assumes the role of commander in chief of the armed forces of the Republic. President Nateq-Nouri, his family, and his associates are not to be harmed in any way by any man, upon pain of punishment of the Leadership Council."

  Well, Nateq-Nouri thought, it was not a total victory for Buzhazi.

  Under Khatnenei, the government would lean further to the fight, but it would not move any faster and would probably crawl to all but a complete stop. Buzhazi still didn't have his total...

  "It is also hereby ordered," the Ayatollah Kalantan continued, "that because of the nature of the military emergency that exists with the wanton attack upon the military forces of the Republic, that a state of national emergency exists in Iran, and that it is necessary to establish martial law within the Republic. It is hereby ordered that General Hesarak alKan Buzhazi shall retain his full rank and privileges and should now have full authority over all government offices and services to do so as he shall see fit to protect the government of the Islamic Republic of Iran and the lives of all the true believers. It is the will of Allah and the command of His Holiness the Faqih, so let it be done. General Buzhazi, the Council is at your command."

  "No!" Nateq-Nouri shouted, jumping to his feet. "This cannot be!

  Iran is not under a state of emergency--it is an emergency created by Buzhazi for his own aims!" But the Imams representing the Leadership Council were heading for the door, eyes averted, refusing to speak. It was Khamenei, Nateq-Nouri decided. The Faqih had decided that now was a good time to flex some Iranian military muscle. The only way to bypass the constitution and advance those plans was to put Buzhazi in charge, and that meant martial law.

  Buzhazi got to his feet, amused eyes on Nateq-Nouri. "Guards, escort Their Holinesses out of the chamber," Buzhazi shouted. At that moment, several dozen armed Pasdaran soldiers rushed into the Cabinet chamber, heavily armed, with assault rifles at port arms. A dozen Pasdaran guards surrounded the two high priests as they departed the chamber. As soon as they departed, the chamber erupted into complete bedlam. "Silence!" Buzhazi shouted. "Come to order immediately, or I will see to it that you are all removed!

  Several Pasdaran guards rushed over toward Nateq-Nouri, and were immediately blocked by a small contingent of Nateq-Nouri's personal bodyguards, seven ex-Syrian special forces soldiers.

  Although outnumbered three to one, it was obvious they would protect their charge to the last man. "Hold!" Buzhazi ordered.

  "His Holiness the Ayatollah Kalantari has ordered that the former President not be harmed or detained in any way. The former President shall be escorted safely out of the chamber and immediately to his residence, where he shall be placed under protective guard.

  Colonel, see to it immediately."

  Nateq-Nouri was surrounded by his own personal guard, then by Pasdaran troops, and then by his advisors and Supreme Defense Council ministers sympathetic to him, but he raised his voice enough to be heard above the throng around him: "General Buzhazi, your days on earth are numbered, and I shall be there to see your last day, just before the firing squad's bullets riddle your worthless body."

  "Brave words from a traitor," Buzhazi shouted back. "All but Nateq-Nouri must stay. I have a few more matters to discuss."

  "I swear to Allah, I shall see to it that you are hanged by your own words," Nateq-Nouri said, as he let himself be led out of the chamber.

  As the room cleared and grew ever quieter, several shocked and incredulous eyes turned toward General Buzhazi. "You must be mad, Buzhazi, utterly mad," Muhammad Foruzandeh, the Iranian Defense Minister, finally said acidly. "You know all that the President has said is true--he is not a traitor, and the back-channel communications he has had are perfectly legal and aboveboard--you have used them many times yourself in the past."

  The Prime Minister, Hasan Ebrihim Habibi, spluttered, "You dare attempt a military coup against the legitimate government?"

  "Silence, all of you," Buzhazi said. "This is no coup, gentlemen--this is an order from the Leadership Council that the Islamic Republic is in grave danger and is in need of help right away. Nateq-Nouri is weak and has chosen the way of cooperation and free exchange with the very agents of imperialism and oppression that seek to destroy us. I on the other hand refuse to sit by and watch my country suffer.

  "Effective immediately, by the power invested in me as military leader of the Islamic Republic, I hereby suspend and disband the Majlis-i-Shura, the Supreme Court, and the High Judicial Council, until further notice."

  "What?" several of the civilians shouted. In one sweep, Buzhazi had just dismantled Iran's civil representative government--the 270-member Islamic Consultative Assembly, the Supreme Court, and the entire federal judiciary branch of the government. This left only the three major religious organs--the Leadership Council, led by Leader of the Islamic Revolution, Khamenei; the Council of Experts, led by the Ayatollah Meshkini; and the Council of Guardians, led by the Ayatollah Yazdi--along with the military, to rule the Iranian government. All of these mullahs were very pro-military and extremely fundamentalist, dedicated to exporting the Islamic revolution--led by them and the Shiite Muslim sect, of course-all over the world. Now, under martial law, they had the military backing them up. "Buzhazi, you do not have such authority!"

  "Under martial law, crimes against the government will be punishable by military courts, and reviewed by the Council of Guardians and the Council of Experts," Buzhazi said. "The Cabinet and the Supreme Defense Council are also hereby disbanded; the Cabinet ministers retain their positions and authority, but now report to me through my General Staff officers. The newspapers Kayhan, Ettela'at, Tehran Times, and all other public or political organs will immediately suspend publication; only Jum-hurie-Islami will be allowed to continue operations, under command of the Office of Public Affairs of the General Staff. All broadcasting, except for Radio Naft-e-Melli, will immediately suspend all operations; INTELSAT earth station operations and radio relay station operations, except for military-only base operations, will be suspended immediately until military control can be concluded"

  "There will be panic in the streets of Tehran, General," Prime Minister Habibi said angrily. "You cannot simply shut off all media sources and expect to control a population of seventy million."

  "I shall deploy the entire Niru-ye Entezami-e-Johuriye Eslami-ye Iran, reinforced and led by the Pasdaran, to maintain order in the cities," Buzhazi said sternly. "The Security Forces of the Islamic Republic have a duty to maintain order and uphold the law.

  I will mobilize the Basij and federalize them under active-duty control of the Pasdaran to reinforce the internal security forces and border guards.

  "But most important, I will issue orders to my staff to carefully instruct all members of the Cabinet on how to conduct your day-to-day operations in the face of this emergency. Martial law does not mean the end of the Republic, only that extraordinary measures must be taken to ensure our safety and security. I expect all government offices and ministers to properly convey that message. Further instructions will be issued by my chief of staff. You are all dismissed. Summon my battle staff and get
them in here immediately."

  Buzhazi was intently studying a chart of the Middle East, with Iran centered on it, when the senior members of the Islamic Republic's joint chiefs of staff hurried into the Cabinet room.

  "I want full territorial security established immediately," Buzhazi ordered. "The Strait of Hormuz is hereby off limits to all foreign warships. I want every vessel in our inventory in the strait shadowing every vessel that passes through."

  "We will need the reserves, sir," army commander, Brigadier General Mohammed Sohrabi, said.

  "Then order a full reserve mobilization," Buzhazi said. "Use the Basij to fill in as necessary, but I want the sea lanes full of Iranian patrol vessels immediately--not six or twelve months from now--shadowing every tanker and every cargo ship that moves through the strait. And I want full air patrols as well--around-the-clock, low-altitude, sustained combat air patrols. I want our forces to be visible to anyone within two hundred kilometers of our shores. Test the GCC and American air forces. How do the Americans put it? Play 'Red Rover' with them, probe their weaknesses."

  "I may have found one, sir," air forces commander Brigadier General Mansour Sattari interjected. "We saw the American's stealth bomber last night."

  "You what?" Buzhazi dismissed his other staff members, and sat down with Sattari, his handpicked man, hopefully soon to be his chief of staff when he became President. "How was this done?"

  "Sir, stealth works because of two things: the stealth aircraft absorbs some radar energy and redirects the rest into thin lobes that point in directions other than back at the transmitter--the net result is that the transmitting radar antenna gets very little of its signal returned, so it fails to correlate the data and form a radar return," Sattari explained. "The energy absorbed by the skin of the plane and other systems--the so-called cloaking device these aircraft are rumored to employ--is relatively small, perhaps ten to twenty percent. The rest of the energy is still out there, but it is simply not returned to the radar system that it should."

  "Get on with it, Mansour."

  "Sir, the problem is not that we cannot receive the signals, or that the signals are not strong enough--the problem is that the antenna that must receive the signal is in the wrong place. If it were possible to move the receiving antenna and synchronize it with the transmitting antenna, or use several different antennas so synchronized, the redirected radar energy would be detected and the plane would appear on radar.

  "For very brief moments, this occurred last night. Purely by chance, we had two radar facilities in perfect synchronization, an A-10 Mainstay radar plane over the strait and a radar facility at Bandar Abbas; both stations were electronically linked with each other, sharing radar data. When the radar aircraft transmitted, the ground station received, and the stealth bomber appeared on Bandar Abbas's radar screen. It was lost a second later, not enough time to track it or even reacquire it, but it did appear."

  "So if we synchronize two radars deliberately," Buzhazi said, "or even more than two, we could spot the aircraft long enough to track it."

  "Yes, very possible," Sattari said. "I have my best engineers on the problem right now. I assumed that you wanted to protect the Khomeini carrier group as best as possible, so I am setting up the system using the Khomeini's long-range radar as the master, with Chah Babar's long-range radar and with an A-10 Mainstay radar plane's radar as the slaves. We must precisely match their frequencies and timing so that when the master transmits, the slaves receive, and vice versa. The slaves then report their findings back to the master by datalink, which assembles the data and puts it together into an image. The best part, sir," Sattari went on, smiling a satisfied, evil smile, "is that the stealth aircraft may not even know it is being tracked!"

  "How is that possible, Mansour?"

  "Because we will be vectoring fighters in on the aircraft using long-range search radars only," Sattari explained. "The stealth aircraft believes it is invulnerable to these radars. The radar of the fighters that will have the honor of shooting down the stealth bomber will not be locked on to the aircraft until very close in, and they may be able to lock a heat-seeking missile on long before the stealth bomber's crew suspects that we see them!"

  "Excellent, Mansour, excellent," Buzhazi said excitedly. "You will receive a promotion to deputy chief of staff if this works.

  Implement the system immediately. Then see to it that we have massive fighter formations in the air. If the Americans launch four fighters, I want eight to counter them."

  "Sir, it may be unwise to begin such a mobilization so suddenly.

  It will inflame the entire world against us!" Sattari protested.

  "The world, and especially the Americans and the Gulf Cooperative Council, will soon learn how dangerous it is to provoke us!"

  Buzhazi said. "I want the Strait of Hormuz sealed tight, and I want the Khomeini battle group to spearhead it, supported by fighters and bombers from Chah Bahar. The Persian Gulf will be ours now!"

  ANDERSEN AIR FORCE BASE, YIGO, GUAM 24 APRIL, 1997, 1838 HOURS LOCAL

  The dream was so real, he could feel it, hear it as clearly as if he were there with the doomed plane--the screams of the KC-10 cockpit crew as their tanker began spiraling in its death dive into the Gulf of Oman; the horrible crushing impact as the plane hit the water at terminal velocity; the feel of the cold sea, as hard and unyielding as rock, as it crushed their bodies, then dissolved them into the brine. They were shouting, screaming his name, cursing it, cursing him, cursing his parents, cursing his stupidity Dammit, he had killed them, Patrick McLanahan thought. He never should have requested that tanker to come anywhere near Iran after the attacks on Bandar Abbas, the Khomeini carrier group, and Chah Bahar. He knew the Iranian air force would be on high alert, knew they'd be patrolling the skies looking for revenge He could feel the ocean swallow them up, feel the salt water carry them out, away from help, away from home It was salt water, yes, but not from the Gulf of Oman--they were tears. Patrick found himself crying in his sleep, mourning the loss of the KC-10 Extender crew. But as he awoke, he found they were not only his own tears, but from...

  "Wendyl" Patrick exclaimed. "My God, it's you." He embraced his wife warmly, and they held each other tightly for several long moments. The bandages were off her neck now, and a bit of hypoallergenic makeup covered the wounds. Her hair was longer, tied in a complex-looking weave on the back of her head.

  "I came in and I saw you crying in your sleep," Wendy said to her husband. "It hurt me so much to see you like that. I didn't want to wake you, but I didn't want you to be in such pain."

  "Wendy, what are you doing here?"

  "When you radioed NSA to tell them you got a tanker and that you were going to land on Guam, Jon Masters loaded up his DC-10 launch aircraft, chartered about a half dozen other cargo planes himself, and we hurried out here," Wendy said. "He's got every NIRT-Sat and PACER SKY satellite, every ALARM booster, every Disruptor-class weapon in his inventory out here, and he's after blood for what the Iranians did to the Valley Mistress and its crew."

  "You're with Sky Masters now?"

  "I signed up shortly after you left with General Freeman," Wendy said. "I'm his new vice president in charge of development. Jon got us a condo in San Diego, a car, a plane to take us to his plant in Tonopah, the works."

  "The tavern...?"

  "I leased it out to that development group," Wendy replied. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you first, Patrick, but we both know you weren't happy there. This way you still keep ownership of the place, we have a little positive cash flow coming in, and you're free to save the world instead of busing tables. You can have it back next year, or you can sell it to the group at any time. I hope you don't mind, but..."

  Patrick took her hand, squeezed it reassuringly, then kissed her fingers. "You did the right thing, Wendy," Patrick said.

  You're right: I wasn't happy there. But I didn't have the courage to say so." His eyes drifted away for a moment, staring at some scene replaying in his mind's e
ye.

  But Wendy took his face in her hands and said sternly, "Stop that right now, Mr. McLanahan. I know what you're doing: you're imagining those KC-10 crew members dying after being shot down."

  "You heard about that?"

  "Not officially... but yes, Jon Masters monitors everything," Wendy said. "We heard what you did with his Disruptors over Bandar Abbas, over the Khomeini carrier group. But we found out that you weren't tasked to go in and launch 'screamers' against Chah Bahar. Hal Briggs put that rescue mission together himself, then called you, in the blind, asking for your help. Patrick, that strike was a complete success! I heard Briggs found many of the survivors, got them out. Why are you so unhappy?"

  "Wendy, that KC-10 crew, they'd still be alive if I hadn't told them to come get us all the way into the Gulf of Oman," Patrick said. "I wanted to get a refueling so I could continue back to Whiteman instead of having to abort to Diego, so I practically ordered those guys to come in and get me. They died because of my stupidity."