Tehran Decree

by James Scorpio

  He allowed himself a few more voyeuristic moments of indulgence before turning round and addressing Jansen.

  ‘The situation has changed commander, we are now looking at a grand ransom demand from the BIB,’ the PM explained in detail what had transpired.

  ‘What I should make clear from the outset commander, is the fact, that this is no longer our ball game, and we should completely wash our hands of the whole unsavory incident.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit of cop out sir?’the PM’s eyes bored into Jansen.

  ‘What I’m also saying commander, is that we should now leave the whole thing to the Americans, after all, it was their doing which brought this thing on in the first place,’ Jansen nodded compliantly and finished off his whisky.

  ‘Is this what we’re celebrating sir?’

  ‘Not quite...we’re celebrating the fact that we managed to remove the terrorists from Australian soil without incurring further fatalities. Heaven only knows what would have happened had the army or the FBI had their way,’ Jansen refilled his glass adding the mandatory squirt of soda.

  ‘In that case sir, I’ll drink to that,’ the PM cleared his throat.

  ‘Still, in spite of this, we find ourselves to be the scapegoat in this sorry little saga. The Americans haven’t said anything yet, but when you have your political ear to the ground, it is obvious to me that they blame us, at least in part for the situation.

  So what I’m proposing is that we help pull their nuts out of the fire. It is about time Australia stopped being politically correct and grabbed the bull by the horns instead of passing the buck.

  I want you and a team of SAS officers to snatch the US president from under the noses of the BIB extremist,’ the colour drained from Jansen’s face, and he finished his drink in one gulp, then quickly refilled the glass, this time without the soda water.

  ‘But they must be in Muscat by now sir, it’ll take us weeks to pull a trained team together and get them to the Arabian peninsula.’

  ‘Not if you pick the most experienced men you can find from the SAS pool commander...right now! I have the utmost confidence in the elite forces capabilities.’

  ‘But Muscat is thousands of kilometers away across the globe -- God knows where they’ll be by the time we arrive.’

  ‘No problem commander, Muscat is 11,681 kilometers from Sydney as the crow fly's, and the government has recently took delivery of a Dassault Falcon 7X private jet.

  Its purpose is to get VIP’s or emergency teams as quickly as possible to any place in the world. You and your proposed team represent an emergency team as far as Australia is concerned. In fact you will be the first personnel to use it.

  The Falcon 7X aircraft is capable of 900 kilometers/hour and has a range of 11,000 kilometers, with extra fuel aboard, she can fly non stop to Muscat in just over fifteen hours providing the weather holds.

  The ball is in your court now commander, if you get your team together post haste, you’ll be in time for tomorrow’s breakfast in Muscat,’ the PM smiled politely and squinted at his watch.

  ‘The clock is ticking Roger, and your plane awaits you. So when you’re ready to go -- give me a buzz immediately,’ the house phone rang and the PM picked it up.

  ‘Hello PM here..’

  'Parliamentary secretary speaking sir...just had a call from the NSW police, Clement Chester has committed suicide,’ a flash of confusion followed by disbelief passed across the PM’s countenance as he tried to come to grips with this latest broadside.

  ‘Oh my god, that’s all we need...why on earth did he have to do it now?

  ‘You know sir...the usual problems.’

  ‘No, I don’t know the usual problems...perhaps you could enlighten me.’

  ‘Well as you know sir, he was dismissed recently from the force and he’s taken it rather badly, according to his doctor he was extremely depressed. Apparently he was on a course of Prozac.’

  ‘When did this occur?’

  ‘Two days ago sir on Monday evening, his wife found him hanging in the shed.’

  ‘I see...my heart feels for him and his wife. However, it was a known fact in higher circles, that Clement was a closet marijuana user -- I suspect it may well have tipped balance. Even so, I’m afraid we’re going to have to

  give him a State funeral right in the middle of the worst international bloody crisis since the last world war.’

  ‘Do you want me to put the wheels in motion sir?’

  ‘Yes, go ahead, inform his wife, then continue with the service arrangements...don’t skimp any of the formalities. Just remember, a State funeral is a political statement whoever it happens to be; it reminds the electorate that the government is doing its job. And the better the funeral pomp and ceremony -- the more it will impress the voters.’

  ‘Oh, and don’t forget, have a large Australian flag draped over his coffin, after all, he did serve the country on the front line of the police force.’

  ‘I’m not so sure we can do that sir, without his wife's permission, she may have the last say,’ the PM snapped back.

  ‘Well do what you can, and bear in mind, this will be a State Government funded ceremony.’

  Chapter Forty

  A mere two hours had elapsed since acting president Jenkins had held the last emergency meeting in the situation room. The meeting now included the full National Security Council, with newly appointed Attorney General, Claudia Lithgo, a no nonsense former womens lobby group advocate, with a string of high profile public service appointments to her credit. She was a natural career woman with years and years of hands on experience in the public arena.

  She liked the fact that the assembly was on a twenty four hour alert with staff taking strict rotating roster breaks; it was preferable to bed sitting a lonely up market luxury flat that she had rented for the last five years. It was a hard lesson to learn, but money and prestige did not necessarily cure loneliness; in some ways it worsened the situation. A powerful woman drove many men away and she found herself constantly trying to adjust her ego in order to gain headway with the opposite sex. Bullying merely resulted in the same reaction from her male counterparts, worst still, this finally banished many men from the intimate relationship she so desperately needed.

  Over the last few months she had discovered a simple secret which seemed to resolve the situation a little. It came from the holy bible directly from Jesus himself...treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself...if only all politicians adhered to this simple rule. She vowed to put the home truth into practice on every possible occasion. Jenkins sat at the head of the table gently massaging his forehead while the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff conferred with the military chiefs on a personal level.

  After a prolonged discussion he approached the president, said a few private words in his ear, and passed on the notes he had been taking. Jenkins looked at each sheet in turn, solemnly noted the contents, then picked up his mug of coffee and drank several large gulps.

  ‘Your attention please ladies and gentleman, it is a contention between the military chiefs that we skip the low level guided drone aircraft and replace it with a MOAB GBU-43/B weapon. For your information the contraction MOAB stands for Massive Ordinance Air blast Bomb, or if you like, the Mother Of All Bombs. It is a massive conventional high explosive air blast bomb, and is the most powerful non-nuclear weapon ever designed by the United States.’

  The attorney general looked disturbed by this revelation and leaned forward in her chair to get a more prominent view of the president.

  ‘Excuse me sir, but wasn’t the drone our guidance system for some other weapon...I mean a massive bomb is probably the least accurate means we have at our disposal.’

  ‘Point taken Claudia, however you interjected a little too soon, the bomb will be dropped at high altitude from a C-130 some distance from the target. And...I’m sure most of you are aware of the recent development designated as the JDAM bomb system,’ Jenkins paused, and looked at the Navy Chief w
ho in turn, peered at his open information folder.

  ‘Thank you Mr. President...the JDAM refers to the Joint Direct Attack Munition...sorry about the convoluted acronym, but it comes from an initative of the US Air force and US Navy which uses a guidance kit to convert gravity or ordinary bombs into all weather “smart” munitions. In other words they turn an ordinary bomb into an accurate guided missile,’ Claudia Lithgo looked puzzled.

  ‘How on earth can you make a dumb bomb into a guided missile?’

  ‘JDAM does this by guiding the bomb to its target JDAM isn’t a weapon it is a bolt-on guidance upgrade for an unguided gravity bomb. It has a range of up to 15 nautical miles from the point of release.

  The MOAB weapon we have in mind is guided by global positioning and is extremely accurate. Also, since it only employs conventional high explosives, it avoids the radioactive contamination of a nuclear a device.

  The C-130 transport aircraft has long range reception facilities and will be able to pick up president Garner’s signal -- the bomber crew will simply translate the signal into GPS co-ordinates for the JDAM enabled MOAB bomb.’

  ‘But what about the C-130 sir -- its a pretty big target, the Iranian air defence will soon be onto it?’observed Claudia.

  ‘The C-130 has excellent air protection against air to air missiles and will be flying at very high altitudes; it will be protected part of the way by fighter aircraft. Also the weapon will be released before it reaches the actual target’ Claudia pouted her lips and stuck her nose in the air; an indication of dissatisfaction, and the fact that she was still not done with the questions.

  ‘Is this bomb powerful enough to destroy the Iranian power elite in one go sir?’

  ‘Well its blast radius is 150 yards and the massive shock wave will destroy at least nine city blocks.’

  ‘When are we going to pull this off Mr. President?,’ snapped an impatient chairman of the joint chiefs.

  ‘The operation will commence the minute the Lear jet touches Iranian airspace. We’re not going to be in a desperate hurry over this thing Mr. Chairman, but what we do need is reasonable accuracy. We’ll only get one go at this.’

  Chapter Forty-one

  The third round of coffee was being poured into the cups of the National Security Council delegates when two messages came through almost simultaneously.

  Jenkins put them through to the speaker system. The first was from the strategic air command HQ, responsible for monitoring the Lear jet’s progress.

  ‘Hello Mr. president, the terrorist aircraft has changed course it appears to be heading for Muscat International airport. We have received no indication from the plane as to its intentions or final destination. The BIB are not communicating with us at the present time,’ the second message followed immediately.

  ‘To American communiqué HQ message from Australian government. Lear jet has changed course, now heading for Muscat International airport. Terrorist demands have changed, they now want a minimum of fifty billion dollars for the release of the president. Apparently this also applies to the Iranian government as well. This message has been received from Habib Sharazi second in command BIB on an emergency line.’

  Startled looks from the NSC members were exchanged all round, finally settling on the president. Jenkins stood at the head of the conference table, swaying slightly from side to side, trying to take in the gravity of the two messages. His plans for the take over of the presidency on a more permanent basis, and political glory against the Iranians had suddenly crashed into an impassable brick wall. This was way beyond anything he had expected -- why had they changed their agenda so drastically. The only Muslim terrorists he new were totally committed to the Jihad against the west. It was unprecedented, the very idea of a devout Muslim insurgent demanding money for the release of such an important western figure was totally out of out of kilter with American thinking, not to mention Islamic thoughts on the problem.

  Abduction of a head of state for money was the ultimate self centered act of an heathen -- the exact opposite of a suicidal Muslim extremist -- the bastards had turned themselves into common criminals in the blink of an eye. Human nature in all its greedy ramifications did inhabit Islamic fundamentalist thinking after all.

  The chairman of the joint chiefs was the first to find his voice. ‘But this is wonderful news sir...president Garner is saved, all we have to do is pay them off and the crisis is at an end,’ Jenkins looked straight through the chairman, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. In spite of the chairman’s elevated position in the White House pecking order, the man looked like a simpleton in Jenkin’s eyes -- he shot a despicable grimace in the chairman’s direction.

  ‘Of course it’s not over, fifty billion dollars is not exactly peanuts, it’ll make one hell of a dent in our gross national product, and if the BIB in their misaligned thinking increase the ransom money, then we could be paying considerably more. In fact, there seems to be no end to what they might demand once we start negotiating...not that we ever will.

  No Mr. chairman, the answer is a thousand times no, we can’t pay that sort of money for a doomed president,’ the chairman turned in Jenkins direction.

  ‘You said a doomed president sir.’

  ‘Yes...a doomed president...the DS302 micro homing device which now resides in his body has a lethal partner. It contains a built-in, plutonium pellet, it consists of finely divided plutonium in a ultra-slow release capsule. I estimate president Garner will be dead in a matter of one to two weeks at the most.’ All faces at the conference table, most of then clearly in shock, were once again riveted on the president. The attorney general broke the silence.

  ‘But this is a travesty Mr. president, you have withheld this piece of vital information from the National Security Council, this is a deliberate act of deception and malice designed to kill the incumbent president,’ Jenkins smiled sardonically. He looked around the table -- every pair of eyes projected the same look -- they formed the collective stare of a ‘guilty of murder’ jury, Jenkins shrugged off the tension.

  ‘As I pointed out some time ago ladies and gentleman, this device is classified top secret and as president and commander-in-chief of the armed forces, I have the right to withhold certain information on specific weaponry, providing I can justify the withholding of that information.’ The FBI director fixed Jenkins with a piercing gaze.

  ‘Than go ahead Mr. president, justify this apparent act of bureaucratic homicide.'

  ‘You must realise that this is a case of not only just being the president, but also setting a precedent as the commander in chief by striking while the iron is hot,’ the CIA director spontaneously chimed in.

  ‘Well you’ve certainly done that sir...trouble is, you’ve wiped out president Garner in the process,’ Jenkins continued unruffled.

  ‘The incumbent president was about to face trial for his life at the hands of the Muslin elite...need I point out that the outcome would inevitably be a guilty one. We can only guess at the sort of punishment that would have been meted out to president Garner in front of the whole world. No doubt it would have been video streamed over the Internet in graphic detail,’ Claudia Lithgo craned her neck forward directly under Jenkin’s face.

  ‘And so, you arranged this mandatory act of euthanasia.’

  ‘Of course, what else was I supposed to do...allow the president to be executed over the Internet for all the world to see? Let them cut his head off like some barbaric medieval act of butchery? Let’s face it, there is no way they would ever have returned the president alive at that time,’ Claudia Lithgo looked knowingly at the FBI director, he nodded -- there appeared to be a possible case to answer. Jenkins stood his ground, silently eyeing his peers, unmoved by their revelations.

  ‘I know what you are all thinking...this could be a series of impeachable offences. Go ahead, bring in the devil as your advocate, but be it on your heads.’

  Chapter Forty-two

  Sunday would have have been a very welcome respite
for the National Security Council, but it wouldn’t be this Sunday. Muslim terrorist groups didn’t rest on the Christian Sabbath. Jenkins had used this to ensure that there would no slacking -- America had dropped the ball far too often in the past. One only had to go back to the 1940’s and the Japanese Peal Harbour debacle to see the results of such inaction. And if that wasn’t enough, a recounting of the many maligned forays of the CIA would more than drive the point home. America was a great country, but she was young, and suffered from a severe lack of anthropological experience on the world stage -- especially in the ways of eastern countries. She had no big brother to guide her, only her British and Irish fore bearers, who had their own idiosyncratic ways, which were not necessarily those of contemporary America. She was a dynamic country, standing on her own, and had to break new ground regardless of the consequences.

  Misaligned foreign policies had all too often come to grief; the product of lack of knowledge and home grown corruption. But one thing was clear to the acting president, regardless of the skin colour or the language uttered, human nature was the same the world over.

  From now on this would be the basic truism that would drive US policy forward, and if gut feelings and their subsequent reaction were the order of the day -- then so be it -- all the dilly dallying, political correctness, and smug do gooders, would ultimately achieve nothing.

  Jenkins studied the now defunct, outline plan of the proposed nuclear Drone bombing of Tehran, set out in front of him on hastily typed sheets -- it now seemed the JDAM-MOAB set up had smothered the idea at birth.

  However, the project was about to be shelved temporarily, but still kept in readiness, in case NSC changed its mind over the latest weaponry update. He had turned things over repeatedly over the last four hours, taking each possible alternate scenario to its ultimate conclusion. Logically, there would be no room for error, and yet chance and nature had a horrible way of twisting finalities. Out of continued frustration, Jenkins suddenly gestured wildly with both hands, waking every one out of their Sunday complacency.