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Warriors Page 5

by Barrett Tillman


  John Bennett knew the facts as well as any Arab leader. It was the opening theme in his War College thesis which had brought him to Fatah's attention. Fatah had committed two paragraphs to memory:

  The Middle East arena, from Suez on the canal to Tarabulus in northern Lebanon, is barely 400 miles. A jet aircraft covers this distance in less than one hour at cruising speed. At Mach I the time is barely thirty minutes. Thus, from Tel Aviv the radius of action for a supersonic aircraft puts it within combat in just ten to fifteen minutes.

  Operating in clear weather, in terrain devoid of cities, forests, and even natural depressions in many places, a defending air force sits within easy reach of nearly all likely targets. Antiaircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles may force the aircraft to pay a price for success, but success thus far has been denied the Arabs. Only airpower can defeat airpower, and at present the only thoroughly professional, world-class air force in the region belongs to Israel.

  Fatah had underlined the crucial last sentence and quoted it when suggesting to his superiors that Commander Bennett was the man for the job.

  * * *

  John Bennett answered the knock and opened the double doors of his suite. There was Fatah, impeccably draped in a mishlah and the traditional ghotra headdress. "As-salaamu alaykum," he said. "Peace be upon you." Bennett replied in barely recognizable Arabic. "Wa alaykumu as-salaam. And upon you be peace, Mr. Fatah."

  "Well done, Commander Bennett," Fatah lied. "I am impressed.

  Come, we will go straightaway and 1 shall describe the protocol while we walk."

  As Fatah escorted Bennett across the courtyard, Bennett noticed an uneasiness he had seldom known. A deep-seated feeling that this day could be the most important of his life was submerged beneath a seemingly cool exterior as Fatah briefed him.

  "Commander, my king has instructed me to tell you that he wishes you to be completely comfortable and there will be none of the usual pomp. He wishes you to be informal, as he will be with you. "

  On entering the throne room they walked toward the king, who was flanked by his aides. Bennett was surprised to see the monarch dressed almost plainly in traditional garb, with simple accoutrements that belied his status. He was a man of medium height in his late fifties, with lively eyes and a winning smile. As Bennett approached, King Rahman rose from the throne and stepped forward, hand extended. The grip was firm, contrary to Arabic custom, and the king placed his left hand on Bennett's shoulder. This guy is in the leadership business, all right, the aviator thought. Even looks the part: hair graying at the temples like people used to prefer in doctors, presidents, and airline captains. But Bennett also noted the deep wrinkles above the brow.

  Rahman guided Bennett to a semicircle of Western-style chairs around a gold-leaf antique table. A plain silver tray held seven cups and saucers. Seeming to materialize from thin air, two servants appeared and filled the cups with gaoa, a strong green coffee.

  The king briefly introduced the other four men in attendance, as Bennett already knew of Safad Fatah's role as ambassador at large and family confidant. The American shook hands-far less firmly than had the king-with Generals Mustafa Halabi and Mohammad abd Maila, finance minister Tewfig al Aziz, and Dr. Fuad Hamoud, whom Bennett took to be another diplomat of some sort. The air force officers, crisp in their uniforms, showed the British influence and Bennett easily related to them. Aziz, short and balding, had a miserly look about him which Bennett thought ill suited the chief financier of Arabia. Hamoud was a cipher, a bearded man who said little but listened closely.

  Following preliminary pleasantries about his comfort, the beauty of Bennett's California, and the world in — general, Rahman motioned to the waiters. They replaced the gaoa with a highly sweetened tea, then disappeared. The king of Saudi Arabia set down his cup.

  Game time, John, and here comes the serve.

  The king leveled his gaze at the American and spoke in a precise Etonian accent. "Commander Bennett, I know you must be curious about our invitation to have you leave your beautiful San Diego and travel these thousands of miles to my kingdom. I have need of the services of a man of your capabilities and experience. Before I answer any questions, I would like to take a moment to tell you how we came to choose you. Please do not be offended if I tell you that we expended nearly two years and a great deal of money and influence to find a man such as yourself. In fact, I can say that we settled on four candidates for the mission I propose-two U. S. Air Force officers, a Royal Air Force man, and yourself. You became our first choice.

  "We are completely aware of your exemplary service to your government. Your combat record, we know, made you among the most decorated airmen who flew during that terrible ordeal in Vietnam. We know of your expertise as a tactician, of your scholarly writings on the subject. We know of your reputation as a warrior. And we know of the loss of your wife, for which I extend my sincere condolences. "

  Bennett said nothing.

  The king continued. "Your son is nearly grown and soon may marry." This caught Bennett by surprise. With a mischievous smile the monarch added, "In fact, dear sir, I understand you might soon be a grandfather." Bennett could not suppress an admiring smile. These people were thorough, and he appreciated that quality.

  But inside, Bennett reeled. His first concern was that Paul's carelessness would offend Muslim sensibilities. Paul had told of two Saudis in his dorm at ASU. One of their female cousins had become pregnant out of wedlock, thereby making her guilty of fornication under Muslim law. According to Paul, the girl's parents had turned their home inside out until they found a picture of a young man. The girl would neither confirm nor deny that he was responsible. But the two Saudis said that less than two weeks later the boy in the picture was found on a Riyadh side street with an ornamental dagger in his back.

  Bennett knew the story was plausible-the royal house had once shot a princess who married without permission, then beheaded her husband.

  The king returned to the matter at hand. "Commander, the situation in this region has forced all the Arab nations to build a competent military to protect their individual borders. Simply put, we need a man to raise, train, and lead an air force for these defensive purpose's. Can you tell me, sir, if you had unlimited resources of money and manpower, could you build a first-rate air force which could defend itself against an adversary skilled in the use of airpower?"

  A chill shot through John Bennett. He suspected he might be setting himself up for loss of pension, passport, even U. S. citizenship. This was far beyond the consulting job he had envisioned. He would be an American national in charge of a foreign military force-in short, a mercenary. Jeez, Bennett, you don't even subscribe to Soldier of Fortune, he thought.

  The junior Saudi general, Mohammad abd Maila, leaned forward. "Commander, I trained in the United States for part of my career. I am aware of the capabilities and limitations of various American aircraft-I fly the F-5 quite often still. If you agree to our assignment, we would guarantee you a free hand in the selection of pilots and procurement of aircraft. There are many questions we would have regarding this training and the best aircraft for our needs, but at present I believe we should stop and allow you to consider His Majesty's offer."

  The king drew a gold cigarette case from his breast pocket and tapped the end of a Benson & Hedges against the case. Lighting the cigarette, he inhaled, blew a perfect smoke ring, and returned his gaze to the American.

  "The general is correct." The king omitted the fact that Maila was a second cousin and lifelong friend. Some fifteen years before, then-Major Maila had been deputy air attache to Cairo. "We should not ask you to decide here and now. nor do we intend to. Commander Bennett, I can offer you an almost unlimited expense account to procure in large numbers the aircraft you select, to train the pilots and support crew, to provide you with any staff you choose, and to pay you the sums you decide appropriate for this endeavor. If you are not willing to take this assignment we can only say we have enjoyed your comp
any, and we will make immediate preparations to return you to your home. All we ask is your discretion. "

  The king rose, and so did the others. "I believe we can end this discussion for the moment. Your head must be full of ideas and other questions. Commander, I should like you to be my guest for dinner tonight, and perhaps tomorrow you could let us know your decision. We are not asking at this time for any specific plan-only if you would like to train and lead this organization."

  Bennett groped for a response, but the king raised his hand holding the cigarette. "I should explain one more thing. You would not be expected to lead this air force into battle. I pray such need will never arise. But I believe you are the man to make such a force ready for combat."

  Washington, D.C.

  President Walter Arnold left the cabinet meeting shaken by the disarray within his administration. Already there was outspoken division within his two-month-old cabinet. The United Nations had voted without dissent to condemn Israel for the invasion of Jordan and ordered immediate withdrawal of her troops. The United States had abstained, and the cabinet was angrily divided over whether the American delegation should have exercised its veto. Now the president was preparing to meet with a group of influential Jewish leaders who would urge him to treat the invasion as necessary to ensure Israel's security.

  Arnold's razor-thin victory over his Republican opponent was attributed to a turndown in the American economy during the previous administration's final year. Huge deficits and balance-of-payments inequities, combined with OPEC's renewed strength, drove oil to nearly $30 per barrel. The result was another serious recession in Western economies.

  Walter Arnold had been an outstanding U. S. senator with an inbred affinity for all the media-well-spoken, handsome, outgoing. His strong grass roots support confounded the professional pols, who had been unable to knock him out of the primaries. But even some of his own party leaders-who had been shut out of the White House for nearly two decades-privately acknowledged he was not as strong a leader as the presidency required, and now his young administration faced its first serious foreign policy challenge.

  Arnold asked for a background briefing on the Middle East situation before his meeting with the Jewish delegation, which included some major supporters and contributors to his campaign. The Israelis had done nothing to ease Arnold's task, though even he had to admit they were not bound by any such consideration. "Nations don't have friends, they have interests," Henry Kissinger had said. Now Walter Arnold was beginning to understand that ancient truth.

  Public sentiment in the United States was running high against Israel. The invasion of Jordan seemed unwarranted to most Americans. With both military and political advisers on hand, the president settled down in the briefing room to prepare for the upcoming meeting.

  Major General George Miller, the Army briefing officer, stood before the small audience. His two stars attested to his career success, despite an unimpressive appearance. Short and balding, sightly overweight, he looked more like a college lecturer than a warrior. In fact, he had never held a combat assignment. But his analytical ability, smooth style, and political savvy had won him his present position.

  With three sentences of introduction, Miller repeated the litany of all military briefers. He identified himself, though almost everyone in the room was on a first-name basis with him, and stated the purpose of the briefing. The old formula: "Tell 'em what you're gonna tell 'em; then tell them, and finally tell 'em what you just told ‘em.”

  This time Miller got straight to work. "Mr. President, as you will recall, previous terrorist attacks against Israel and Israeli targets outside the nation's borders have generated widespread sympathy for Israel and condemnation of the PLO. This has been especially true when third parties were harmed, including Americans. But now the terrorist leadership has shifted tactics. In fact, we have fairly good evidence that the PLO has destroyed at least two ultra-radical splinter groups which were planning bombings or suicide attacks in Europe. This change of emphasis indicates a more unified objective for the entire Palestinian movement. It acknowledges increasing understanding of the counterproductive results of terrorism in third-party nations, and it seems to indicate a better-defined goal."

  The general adjusted his glasses, glancing at his notes. "From the Arab and Palestinian 'viewpoint, it makes more sense to concentrate all efforts against Israel rather than diluting their resources in scattered efforts elsewhere. This approach has the additional advantage of removing terrorist outrages from the headlines, thus focusing attention on Israeli colonization of the West Bank and the current operation in Jordan.

  "The new effort began four months ago, shortly after the last major terrorist attack in Europe. You may recall that was the coordinated operation which timed the bombing of our embassy in Lisbon with the suicide commando raid on the El Al office in Amsterdam. "

  Walter Arnold nodded in recollection. Four Americans and three Portuguese had died in the Lisbon explosion. The Israeli airline office had been a repeat of the Rome tragedy of 1985, this time with nineteen dead, thirty-three wounded, four terrorists killed and two captured. The two actions had rebounded against the PLO faction, as an extended bill of credit for Israel which had been stalled in the senate had gone through two days later.

  General Miller continued. "Beginning last October, small-scale military operations were conducted on the borders of Israel from Lebanon by a fanatic Muslim army. The PLO denied affiliation, and while that's probably an exaggeration, it is clear that the aggressive group was acting largely on its own. The Israeli decision to enter Jordan was precipitated by increasing raids from across that border. In one three-day period in November, sixty-two Israeli soldiers were killed and twice that number wounded. The militant Likud party narrowly won a vote of confidence forced by the more radical politicians." Miller looked over his reading spectacles for emphasis. "Prime Minister Aloni and Defense Minister Shelkan share their views.

  "Likud promised swift action to end the cross-border assaults, which in fact were no longer mere raids. The operations were supported by artillery and frequently by long-range rocket batteries. The objective of these assaults usually were Israeli military facilities, though on one occasion a kibbutz on the West Bank was overrun and occupied briefly. By the time the raiders were repulsed, some forty civilians had died. That was the first time the Arabs tipped their hand with more sophisticated weapons, since at least one Israeli helicopter was shot down by an SA- 7 man-portable missile. "

  Taking in the summary, Arnold was concerned about both international and domestic factors. "General, who supported these radicals? Where did they get all of this hardware?"

  "Sir, we have hard intelligence on logistics, advisers, and weapons from Iran, Syria, and Libya. Additionally, North Korean and Cuban assistance has been observed. Soviet participation was reported but hasn't yet been proven."

  The president leaned back in his seat. "Thank you, General."

  Miller realized he had been dismissed, picked up his papers, and walked out. When the door closed, Arnold looked down the table at his press secretary.

  "Jerry, let's face it. The Arab raids leading up to the Israeli invasion don't really matter anymore. We have to deal with the current situation. We have a carrier battle group in the Mediterranean but it can't really do anything, and I damn sure don't want it to!" He paused for emphasis, then looked at his aide. "How do you assess the public mood about what's happened in Jordan?"

  Jerry Butler knew what his boss was getting at. "Mr. President, there is no doubt about it. The two recent cases of Israeli espionage in this country have hurt their cause. Things seemed to die down after the influence-peddling episode in the House Armed Services Committee last summer. But then the new antitank round was found crated and ready for shipment to Israel-"

  "Yes, yes. I remember." Arnold's voice was harsher than he intended, but the recollection of those events still rankled. With practiced ease the president shifted into his modulated make-thevote
rs-feel-good baritone. "What I need to know, here, is how you interpret the country's mood right now. Forget the damn polls. What do you think?"

  Recognizing the conciliatory tone, Jerry continued. "I was coming to that, sir. My point is, with recent examples of continued Israeli spying over here, not many voters will feel very sympathetic to their invasion of Jordan. Since you're asking me, Joe Average on the street is going to want us to steer well clear of supporting or even condoning what's happening in Jordan. Our national interests don't seem to be threatened, so why get involved?"

  Arnold nodded assent. "All right, we'll have to deal with the anti-Israeli lobby as well as with the Jewish lobby. It means steering a neutral course right down the line. You understand?"

  The press secretary nodded. "Yes, sir." I sure do, he thought. It means walking the fence again. Remember the first principle of politics: Never upset a voter without a good reason.

  Chapter 2

  Riyadh

  John Bennett leaned back on the oversized pillows on his king-size bed in the luxurious suite. Hands behind his head, he lay with eyes closed, recalling the dinner that had ended only two hours before.

  Bennett had dined with King Rahman and one of the children.

  Queen Aishah was out of sight with her daughters and youngest son, which Bennett knew to be the custom. The boy at dinner looked about fifteen, spoke very good English, and seemed conversant in aviation matters. Bennett had almost dropped the spoon in his soup when the younger casually mentioned logging 200 hours in his personal Beechcraft Bonanza.

  The evening was easygoing and pleasant. The king had pointedly avoided discussing business, preferring to compare notes on places both men had seen and known. Having made three deployments to the Mediterranean, Bennett was familiar with the area, though he allowed himself greater knowledge of Toulon and Naples nightlife than the sovereign. But Rahman had impressed Bennett with mention of a fourth-place finish at the Le Mans twenty-four-hour race "in my impetuous youth."

 

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