A Touch Of War

by Isaac Stormm

  Foxmann nodded a little, himself uneasy about responding. David immediately recognized its meaning.

  “There it is then. The U.N. formality, then we strike. Then you and I go back to work with no end in sight.”

  “There is always an end. It just might take a little longer this time.”

  The C-5 taxied away and Foxmann went to the edge of the hangar, keeping out of the sun, to watch it travel the length of the runway before turning onto it. Its engines throttled to maximum, the low whine of those big turbofans rumbling the plane past, its massive nose rearing back, holding there a few seconds before mounting thrust ushered the rest of the plane up into a steep climb.

  They left on the A330 a half hour later. Little conversation filtered from David’s team, which Foxmann thought odd. He knew that he probably felt they let the country down. And he knew that any words of encouragement or congratulations he would see right through, so he stayed quiet. Once they were at cruising altitude, just above stringy lines of cirrus clouds passing slowly under them, he withdrew the small packet and held it up to the cabin lights. There was a clue in here and confirmation. Now it was up to someone else to find it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Iran

  May 18

  10:26 A.M.

  Zarin sat in his office letting his fingers play along the edge of the desk. He’d stayed around and watched the cleanup of the Hind and Hip helicopters. The charred black bodies brought his stomach into his mouth and he almost heaved. He’d thought of the damage to his reputation if he committed such an act of weakness. So the great hunter couldn’t stomach certain things. That he must never let happen.

  The call was supposed to come any minute now. It would be the Ayatollah on the other end of the line and he needed to be as specific as possible in the situation report. He wanted to skirt around the fact that the Israelis managed to get away and concentrate on the downing of the two choppers as a crime to be presented before the U.N. He knew he could do it, he just had to choose the right words to take some of the heat off of a failure that pointed toward him.

  The phone rang once and he almost froze letting it ring again before reaching his hand out to lift the receiver. “Major Zarin.”

  There was a click then a monotone voice began, deceptively weak sounding without much volume. “Major, I understand we were penetrated by the Israelis. I was kept apprised of the developments yesterday when your word reached me. I know they escaped and I want to know if there are any more bandits helping them.”

  Think. Think. He couldn’t say the words immediately. Then he found them. “The investigation is early, but it appears likely there may be others. We will find them. Of equal importance at this time is also the loss of two helicopters and seven men. They were taken out by enemy jets within our airspace. The clues we have found from remnants of the missiles show that they are American.” He realized that was stupid for him to say. The Americans sold the same missiles to the Israelis. It could be an all Jewish operation using their American master’s hardware.

  “I have given authority to resume negotiations,” he said. “To play a little more with the Americans and get them to provide a buffer between the Israelis and us until we have a functional warhead.”

  The Ayatollah just revealed more than a man in his position was expected to know. He was flattered. “Excellent. It will throw off the Israelis’ timetable for an attack.”

  “I intend to make what happened last night public and blame it on the Hebrews. What happened to the mine?”

  “It was destroyed at dawn this morning. The entrance is now completely sealed.”

  “I have a new assignment for you. I want you to fly to Tehran tomorrow. You’ll be picked up at the airport and brought to me. You’re going to play a central role in how we deal with the U.N. You’ll be briefed after you arrive.”

  What was it? Was it just a trick to bring him to Tehran and blame him for letting the Israelis escape, or was it a promotion in some way? He dug into his heart, pushed away the uncertainty and mouthed, “I’m willing to do what you wish, Excellency.”

  “Very well.”

  He thought he heard the phone being handed off. Then there was a click. He held the receiver to his ear a second longer, not sure if he should hang up. The paralyzing moment returned, then he lowered it. I have to remain calm. The Ayatollah has every right to punish me. I failed him. It is just a ploy to bring me to Tehran to face my executioner. Berate me for several minutes then take me to an isolated location that’s been used hundreds of times before and end it there. His flattery was merely to soften me then hit me with this. No. I must believe in his mercy. He does have an assignment. And I will take it, and make up for what happened.

  He sat back down, formed a pyramid with his fingers, and pressed his nose against them. The next 24 hours were going to be hell, fighting off the damn uncertainty. No sleep tonight. And that’s exactly what he would need to look his best tomorrow. Somehow he must convince himself the Ayatollah is telling the truth. He closed his eyes and shook his head a little. The Ayatollah never lies. Just in case, he must be of stout heart when he faced his leader for the first time ever. At that moment, to him it could just as well be the prophet Mohammed himself. He must make sure he is reverent and absent of argument whatever the judgment may be. Finally, as his final trump card, he had to impress upon them that it was he who suggested the salt mine to test the nuclear device.

  Tel Aviv

  4:28 P.M.

  Grozner needed this moment, and it was being toyed with by the Iranians. The proverbial monkey with a wrench. He was about to make sure they would never get ahead of him. He was waiting on Anderson’s link up. If the man only knew that he cringed at the thought of the conniving Iranians and American negotiators sitting across at a table, once again exchanging fake smiles and worthless pleasantries. Such things would amount to nothing again as they nagged over little details and threats to walk out knowing neither side would. The whole time Israel would be in the shadows with the proverbial noose around its neck.

  Anderson appeared on the monitor.

  “Mr. President,” Grozner said, “I read with great interest…forgive me, concerning a story in the European press that the Iranians want to resume negotiations. I hope you’re not falling for this ploy.”

  “Minister, I understand your concern. But there are new developments I need to share with you. Things that have not existed before.”

  “Please explain.”

  “Tehran wants to start anew. They actually admitted to us that they were wrong to try to lock us out of inspecting their facilities. They will allow the IAEA to begin inspections within three months.”

  “They are only stalling. We still believe we have evidence of their detonation.”

  “And, Prime Minister, don’t get me wrong, I still believe they detonated a nuclear device as well. But what they have offered will make it difficult for them to hide such evidence. It may provide an avenue to stop them once and for all.”

  “Please be smarter than this,” he said. “Why the Iranians are proposing such new ideas only leads me to my conclusion. They have more facilities than we know about. Inspecting the ones we do know about isn’t really going to have an effect. Meanwhile, my country has to live with them having a weapon while the U.N. cavorts around the country on a sightseeing tour.”

  “We can do more, I promise. However, there is one thing that they requested that I must share with you…”

  Grozner detected the pause as troubling. “Yes?”

  “They want us to obtain from you a public assurance that while the inspectors are within their borders, the Israelis will make no aggressive moves toward them.”

  Quite impossible. He should have known better than to ask that. “Your response to them?”

  “I would inquire. That’s all. I already knew what your answer would be.”

  “Then there’s no reason to proceed further.” He would get right to the point.”You received a briefing on the
crystals that were recovered, yes?”

  “It won’t stand up, I fear.”

  “Nevertheless, if we continue to work together, I know we can go a long way toward convincing the U.N.”

  “Mr. Grozner, I’m afraid we’ll still have a hard time. If the team had gotten out without any trouble we would have a shot, but I’ve just found out the Iranians are going to file a protest and show footage from their destroyed helicopters. They are wanting to cast blame. They’ll use it as a wedge against anything we try. But I’m willing to do that just to show you I am not like you and your cabinet believes. Inflexible.”

  Grozner was not going to confirm the man’s suspicion. He added, “That is good, Mr. President. Our countries’ relationship will become stronger when we present the evidence, minuscule though it may be.”

  “I wanted to ask you two questions. And this is from one leader to another. How long will it be until you analyze your testing and have it prepared for review?”

  “Three days, I’ve been told.”

  “If it’s all right with you, I would like to tell the Iranians we’re willing to sit back down with them. I will not tell them that you plan to present evidence of their deeds. I’ll let them discover it from Secretary-General Rasmuth.”

  “As you wish.”

  “My second question is a request. The most difficult thing I will ask you up to this point.”

  Grozner sensed Anderson wanting him to say the next words to lead to the question, which he did. “Please, speak freely.”

  “We know the course of action if the U.N. buys the evidence you present. If not, I’d like your personal guarantee that at least for six months, if the negotiations start bearing fruit, that you will not launch a military strike against Iran…Under any circumstances.”

  Back to being too trusting again, Grozner figured right quick. Back from solid alliance to shaky. “I cannot do that.”

  “Mr. Prime Minister. The world will come down hard on Israel if the U.N. believes progress is being made. I’ll be under enormous pressure from home and abroad if you do something while we’re trying to find a peaceful resolution.”

  “This is much like your Cuban missile crisis. Except Khrushchev blinked and the Soviets backed down. The Iranians cannot blink. For they have never used their eyes. It is their blind faith that justifies everything.”

  “Let’s just take a deep breath and determine our next course of action. I will do what I can to see we’re both on the same page.”

  “There’s also another proposal should it come to, well, action of some sort. Our man Foxmann suggested it to me today.” He was trying to flank Anderson’s defenses, swinging around and coming in through the back door so to speak, to push him a little more.

  “Go on.”

  “A ground assault on the Qom installation involving Israeli and American teams. Operation ‘Trumpets Of Jericho,’ it is called. They take the mountain and the underground labyrinth and destroy Iran’s largest cache of centrifuges and nuclear fuel. This action, along with air strikes taking care of the rest of the targets around the country, is calculated to set them back over ten years.”

  “Interesting.” Another pause, and Grozner heard him tapping a pencil on a desk. “But I’ve already heard a similar proposition your other prime minister offered. It read pretty much the same thing. A plan developed long ago, perhaps.”

  “This is completely new.” Was it? Or just a refinement of something already on the shelf. He must ask Foxmann because he didn’t want to go any further and have Anderson catch him in an uneducated lie. In fact, it would be the first course of action before the air strikes. A gutsy one at that. He waited for Anderson to counter him the risk factor.

  “I tell you what, if the samples are verified radioactive, I’ll have the commander of JSOC get in touch with Foxmann and he can fill him in further.”

  Grozner exhaled with some satisfaction. Somewhere, there was still a spark in Anderson’s conscience that might be willing to take that giant step. “And we’d let it be an open session by having your commander offer suggestions that can be used.”

  Anderson bade him goodbye and Grozner began dialing again.

  Foxmann turned the black Toyota SUV off of Hanegev Road onto Kishon Street. Proceeding four houses down, he turned into the driveway rimmed with a cobblestone wall to his left holding a small parcel of land overseen by a small boxy two-story home. Here, just outside metropolitan Tel Aviv with its crammed apartment complexes that formed canyons and deep valleys of roads that never seemed to end, he found home. Rolling to a stop in front of the garage door, he glanced at the two steps up to a closed gate which opened to a brief sidewalk which led to the front door. Inside Anna and Sarah would be waiting, or so he hoped. He’d forgo looking into the garage this time, on the chance of being right. He pulled the keys from the ignition and the phone rang. That didn’t stop him from getting out. The nuisance would wait a few seconds.

  “Prime Minister.”

  “I just spoke to Anderson. He filled me in on the Iranians’ intentions. My feeling is they are going to try and throw a wrench into the works. Disrupt our intent anyway they can. Therefore, I’m authorizing you to the next step with our forces immediately.”

  “I’ll contact the units then, begin training tomorrow.”

  “How soon would they be ready for action?”

  Foxmann pressed the vehicles door shut with a light push. “The air units are confirmed. They could go right now if necessary. The ground units, since they are a new addition, need at least a week of training,” he said. “I suppose the Americans are out?”

  “I told him of the ground action. There is a slim chance they would join us if the presentation at the U.N. shows proof. Either way, we’re going.”

  “Then it’s in the hands of the men in white coats at the lab,” he said. A little tingle playing on the back of his neck started to spread down his arms and legs. “Should we look at this as a countdown clock that ends in one week? No matter what?”

  There was a long silence on the other end. Then Grozner cleared his throat and took a deep swallow, both audible. “Yes.”

  “Very well, Prime Minister. I’ll go over the plans tonight.”

  “Give my greetings to Anna and Sarah.”

  “I shall.” He put the phone away. My God, so soon? he thought. He hoped they would have a month at least before the start of hostilities. He stepped up, opened the gate, and began walking. A quick twist of the door handle told him they were home. And he was about to smile.

  He entered the foyer. “Anna? Sarah?” he called, hearing the living room TV. Takeout dinner tonight. In other words, something needed reheating. He knew this because Anna always had the house smelling of some sweet smelling incense after she cooked to counter whatever food the aroma came from. He didn’t mind and walked a little way, turning into the kitchen.

  The shadow lunged at him, a blur of something blue, arms outstretched, grabbing his neck.

  “Ha!” it said.

  It started to pull him over. He grabbed it by the shirt and started to flip it over a shoulder when it called out, “Daddy!”

  A reflex stopped the maneuver of throwing it to the floor, and his hands unloaded Sarah, letting her tiny bare feet touch the ground, before sweeping her up in a cradle of his arms. He saw she had put a chair to the side of the entryway and stood on it waiting. She giggled at her predicament and he kissed her on the forehead, inspecting her blue dress and hair braided into pigtails. “You rascal. You scared me. I might have thrown you through the window.” He set her back down and she looked up, smiling. “Mommy is out back. I want to show you. Come.” She took him by the hand and led him to the living room.

  He walked in on an assortment of toys strewn across the carpet to a sheet propped between the armrests of the couch and recliner. The TV was on the news and the sight of Palestinian youth throwing rocks in Gaza caught his attention.

  “Daddy, I made us a tent.” She stooped down and crawled under the
entrance pulling him with her. Inside, she had a scattering of Dr. Seuss hardbacks with one of them opened. “Mommy was reading this. I want this to be our reading place.”

  “Alright. But can we make a deal? Let’s put the tent in your room. Between the bed and the desk. Having this here keeps us from getting to our rooms.” He picked up her book, looked it over and said, “Let’s finish this one like we did the last time.” Before the current crisis. He began building up her vocabulary by reading to her after supper. His voice steady, never getting high or low, always calmed her into sleep before the story concluded.

  “Alright. Let’s go.”

  “I have to eat first. What did Mommy get us?”

  “Hot dogs.”

  “ Mmmm.” He licked his lips and she giggled again. “We’ll need something cold to wash it down with. How about a Coke?”

  “Diet only. Mommy looks after you, remember?”

  He didn’t answer, just smiled and walked to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, he noticed how stocked it was with emergency water for use in the shelters and the plump apple cobbler pie they were supposed to have munched on before and after the fireworks, safe in its glass tray under aluminum wrap.

  He pulled a Coke from one of the door pockets and tugged the bottom tray where the hot dogs and fries were wrapped in reflective foil. As he closed the door, Anna walked in carrying a basket full of clothes.

  “I need to see Daddy for a little while. Could you go play in your tent?”

  He could tell she had something she needed to say, and probably spent most of the day worrying about how to do it without coming on too strong.

  Sarah skipped away humming a tune, and Anna put the clothes basket on the floor before approaching him. She was slim and pretty, the oversize gray T-shirt hiding her features, letting the hazel eyes and flowing brown curls falling on her shoulders speak for themselves. What little makeup she wore was just enough to remind others she looked mature enough for 32 years of age when she appeared less than 21.