Tehran Decree

by James Scorpio

  ‘Bastards...’ he blurted, ‘we’ll send the modified MAOB to Muscat and drop it on their co-ordinates...we’ll burn the fuckers to hell!’ the NSC chairman looked up, eyes now wide open, as if the Devil had just struck him on his balding crown.

  ‘But sir, president Garner might still be...’Jenkins cut him off instantly

  ‘He’s a dead man walking; he will soon be suffering now from the effects of the plutonium; we would merely be delivering a finale of mercy. Even if we did manage to retrieve the president, undoubtedly at great cost, it would take a very sophisticated surgical operation to remove the plutonium in tact from his body. We’re talking about trillions of radioactive metallic atoms, once they percolate the system the victim is doomed. It takes only a tiny fraction of a gram to completely destroy the bodies physiology,’ the NSC Chairman irritably pushed his chair back.

  ‘Can we get back to the bomb sir, it could be quite catastrophic on the surrounding population.’

  'Collateral damage in times of war Mr.Chairman, we have no choice, either we put up with the biggest humiliation in political history of the United States, or we simply annihilate them.’

  He stabbed dramatically at the papers in front of him.

  ‘Put this into effect immediately, then let me know the moment the MAOB is detonated.’

  The CIA director suddenly interjected.

  ‘There’s a new page on the Al Jazeera web site sir,’ The chairman of the joint chiefs manipulated the keys on the nearest lap top, putting the Arabic Internet news channel on the large plasma display above the conference table. A page of Arabic text filled the screen and the chairman scrolled down to reveal an English translation.

  ‘The US President may be returned to America provided 50 Billion dollars is paid into an account stipulated by the BIB. If however the Iranian authorities are prepared to increase this amount the US president will be handed over to them.’

  Jenkins paused and studied the belated message; the Arab media had obviously somehow got hold of information from some unknown source.

  Sam Williams offered another possible alternative.

  ‘We could send in a black opps group sir and call off the MOAB initiative, we have several groups within striking distance of Muscat, ’ Jenkins slapped the table hard and growled back.

  ‘Don’t pre-empt my instructions...I’m the commander in chief here -- the plan remains -- we just have to modify it a little. As soon as we have a fix on the Muscat location of the BIB, go in with the C130, and drop the JDAM- MOAB on the coordinates,’ the secretary of defence all but fell off his chair in astonishment as he finally realised Jenkins was deadly serious after all.

  ‘But sir, we’re dealing with the biggest conventional bomb ever made...as I’m sure you are aware, this thing will level all buildings within a 150 yard radius. That may not seem very much but it is a huge area. Then of course there’s the collateral damage all over the place, we may well kill thousands of innocent people,’ Jenkins looked hard at the secretary of defence.

  ‘I just told you Lee to stop making policy, that’s my job, and I said drop the MOAB on the fucking BIB. Now if you can’t follow simple orders then piss off, and I’ll get someone who will,’ the tension shot through the roof and room immediately fell silent. Boswell buried his red face in his notes blotting out the surroundings.

  The Army and air force chiefs flashed concerned glances to each other. The last thing they needed was an out of control president, or a virtual dictator who slashed his advisors aside with a mighty swipe of his razor sharp tongue.

  The unbearable silence continued for several more moments and Jenkins slowly sat down in his chair, realising that he had lost his temper for a few seconds.

  He looked around the table without meeting one sympathetic glance -- all eyes were averted -- this only served to fuel his anger, but his personal shame overcame it and he spoke in a quiet measured voice.

  ‘Look, ladies and gentlemen, I can only reiterate the fact that we are dealing with unprincipled thugs who would not hesitate to kill every last American on this planet. Dropping the MOAB weapon may well horrify you as will the possible consequences. But, by carrying out this simple act, we prevent them putting the president on trial for his life, or having to pay out the horrendous sum of 50 billion US dollars, or any of a dozen other highly revolting things that they may well come up with before we’ve finished.

  234

  God only knows what they’ll do with that sort of money, if they decide to reinvest it in terrorism, or .perhaps another nuclear plant at Bushehr, or as many AK 47’s as the Russians can make in a lifetime, or a dozen IBM’s to drop on New York and Washington...there’s literally no end to it

  Why can’t you gentlemen get it into your heads -- this is a different war -- it’s unabated Armageddon on the run. The MOAB option is a bargain worth considering, and that ladies and gentleman, is what we are going to do!’

  Chapter Forty-three

  The BIB Lear jet had just received landing instructions from Muscat International airport and was approaching the runway. Airport authorities had been told to allow a private transfer to city transport for an important group of VIP’s visiting the city; they were to be allowed complete carte blanche of the airport facilities and surrounds.

  Three SUV’s were lined up on the northern concourse of Muscat International airport, waiting for the Lear jet as it came in to land. The jet landed smoothly and taxied towards the SUV’s, stopping some five metres short of the nearest vehicle.

  Farid Kazeni was the first out brandishing his M10 machine pistol, he quickly opened the doors on the three vehicles and directed Sharazi and the president into the first SUV. The rest of the BIB occupied the other two vehicles. Kazeni had given strict instructions that the airport buildings were to be avoided and side airfield gates were to be used. He took the wheel of the first SUV putting his foot on the accelerator and headed for the nearest opening, within seconds they were on the highway, heading for the outskirts of Muscat.

  High rise buildings gradually gave way to classy family residences, which slowly petered out to mud built dwellings that seemed to go on for ever.

  It was still stuffy inside the vehicle even with the vehicle air conditioning working full blast. Outside it was scorching hot with temperatures in the mid forties.

  Sharazi pushed a bottle of spring water to his dry lips and took several large gulps. He squinted at the president huddled between two of his men in the back seat. He looked terrible, with a pronounced white pallor, his hands were trembling, sweat ran down his face puddling around his open shirt. His eyes remained shut -- he had not opened them since leaving the plane. He was obviously in shut down mode, the mind had gone into total denial and his brain wouldn’t have a bar of it, reality had become too hard to comprehend.

  A glimmer of compassion squeezed its way into Sharazi’s emotions, and he reached back pushing the bottle in the president’s face.

  ‘Here Mr. president...take a swig,’ Garner tried to force his eyes open as he grappled with the bottle. Sharazi pushed harder as the president sucked on the open spout, guzzling nearly half of the water. He pushed the bottle away, coughing and spluttering, until his eyes burst open in relief. The musty stench of the surrounding company, who had not washed for several days, met his nostrils. It was enough to trigger a visceral reaction, but he was lucky, his body was so exhausted that it abandoned the effort required to throw-up, and he collapsed back into his sweaty seat, drooling a stream of water and salvia to the floor.

  Sharazi wiped the bottle top with a distastful grimace, and passed it to Kazeni, who took several sips while keeping his eyes glued to the road. He seemed to be assessing their position in relation to landmarks as the vehicle passed several dilapidated road signs.

  ‘Where are we going Farid?’

  ‘There’s a place I know, I have a friend who has a large mud-brick warehouse out of town.’

  ‘Will this be the drop off point for the ransom?’

&
nbsp; ‘Not necessarily...you do ask a lot of questions Habib... things will be given on a need-to-know basis only,’ Sharazi gazed at the huge dust cloud the convoy was generating, which only made him feel more insecure. It was clear Kazeni still didn’t trust him. There were still many things his shifty taskmaster wasn’t telling him. One of them was the attendant dust cloud they were generating. The Americans were undoubtedly still monitoring their progress, and the dust cloud was a highly effective marker, especially from the air -- not only from high flying aircraft, but no doubt, also from their sophisticated space satellite cameras.

  He looked at Kazeni as the concept registered in the unconscious part of his brain...they had changed coordinates because the US spy apparatus would have traced then to Tehran HQ. Undoubtedly the Supreme Leader, once again in his so called supreme wisdom, would have been a sitting duck, should the US decide to eliminate him. His deductive processes were working overtime-- he was beginning to read Kazeni’s mind.

  A large red brick building appeared on the left side of the road, it was offset some twenty metres with a large mud-baked driveway alongside. A raised concourse ran the full length of the building, facilitating loaded and unloading of large trailers and trucks. Kazeni pulled in to the driveway and stopped halfway along the concourse, adjacent to a set of concrete steps.

  The other SVU’s pulled up behind each other and followed Kazeni into the warehouse through a side door. Sharazi dragged president Garner into the building.

  It was full of second hand cars in various conditions of decay. Someone was using a metal grinder in the midst of the cars, with showers of sparks landed in all directions. Sharazi stared in horror at the display and wondered how many of the old vehicles still held deadly reservoirs of petrol.

  An internal office with windows occupied one corner of the building. Two men sat at a large desk talking and drinking fruit juice, from a large two door refrigerator standing against the wall. A large fan wafted the air around, assisting a small breeze coming through a side window. The men opened the office door and ushered the visitors in. Kazeni reeled off a string of orders and the rest of the BIB moved back out of the office and quickly deployed themselves around the building. Kazeni, and Shazazi sat on a long dilapidated divan with Garner propped up between them.

  Kazeni shook hands with the men and introduced Sharazi. Both men had several days of stubble growth and wore tattered overalls soaked with grease and oil stains.

  The older of the two men stared curiously at president Garner, whose eyes were shut, with his head down on his chest. Finally the old man spoke in accented English.

  ‘So this is the great United States President...what on earth have you done with him...the man is half dead,’ he pulled Garner’s head back with a jerk.

  ‘Are you sure this is the American president?’

  ‘As positive as we can be...straight from the American motorcade, and extracted directly from the presidential limousine,' the old man laughed mockingly.

  ‘We have to be sure,’ he put his face close to Garner’s, checking each hair follicle and skin blemish, looking for telltale evidence of plastic surgery. He pulled Garner’s head violently to the right side, and peered under the chin and neck line, then wrenched it to the left.

  ‘Well he seems to be clear at least he hasn’t had any facial procedures,’ his eyes came to rest on a small scar under the left ear, hardly discernible, but a possible means of identification from a good media photograph or video shot of the American president.

  A dog began barking outside the building; Kazeni looked up in alarm.

  ‘I’ll have a look,’ said Sharazi reassuringly. He made his way to the back door, moved outside, and onto a small verandah at the back of the warehouse. A quick visual confirmed the area was deserted -- it was a window of opportunity.

  He punched the radial key on his satellite phone and waited for a response to the Australian police number. A faint digital purr indicated connection was in progress.

  The electronic buzz stopped abruptly, static took over, time stood still. It was agonizing waiting for an answer. The back door abruptly bust open, and Kazeni stood in the door way, antagonism spread across his face. Sharazi barely manage to hide his mobile behind his back.

  ‘Did you see anything?’ he snapped. Sharazi raised a half smile.

  ‘No, a think we scared the poor thing off,’ Kazeni grumbled and turned to go back. Sharizi stood a little closer to the verandah rail

  ‘You’d better come back into the building Habib, we’ve got things to discuss,’ Habib gently dropped his mobile over the side of the rail and walked slowly back into the warehouse -- a later retrieval would have to suffice.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The organ in St. Marys Cathedral in central Sydney played ‘Abide with me’ as another group of mourners entered the central aisle. The congregation was carefully monitored by plain clothes ASIO agents who mingled inconspicuously with the public. Agents were carefully screened for their nondescript appearance, and what seemed like a middle-aged obese lady, or a little old man with a white cane, could well be a skilled ASIO watcher.

  The prime minister sat to the right of the front row of seats, his head slightly elevated, eyes fixed on the pine coffin of former police commissioner Clement Chester. Funerals always brought a tear to the PM’s eyes it was an unconscious reaction from the depths of his childhood. His mother died of cancer when he was only five years old and he could remember crying endlessly, day after day, praying that heaven would send his mother back if he cried long enough. It was the most traumatic thing in his life and he still shed a tear when the last image of his mother came back to haunt him. The cathedral organ began playing softly ‘Jesu Joy of Man’s’ Desiring which only assisted his tear ducts to perform their specialised functions.

  The Coroner had given a verdict of accidental death whilst the victim’s mind was disturbed, which wasn’t quite the same as a planned suicide, or a planned murder for that matter. The unnecessary dragging up of unsavoury material which may have had serious political repercussions, as well as detrimental effects on the reputation of the NSW and Federal police forces, was deemed inappropriate at this time. It was the least anyone could have done under the circumstances.

  The PM thought about Chester’s messy finale and meandered through two hymns and most of the Chester’s Eulogy -- then it happened.

  His mobile phone buzzed alarmingly, the PM stood up red faced and dashed down the aisle and out of the cathedral. He’d forgotten to turn off the offending item, or had he, he remembered deliberately keeping the phone on, reminding himself that he was the prime minister, and this was another ongoing bloody crisis.

  Two plain clothes men followed him at a distance as he groped in his pocket, pulling out his annoying mobile, and making his way to the corner of a large stone buttress.

  ‘Hello PM...’

  ‘Hello sir...Jansen here, you did ask me to give you a buzz when I was ready...I’ve assembled a team of six SAS men and we’re about to board the aircraft,’ the PM’s eyes lit up and he smiled for the first time since the start of the day.

  ‘Excellent, you’ve made my day commander, may I now suggest you proceed with all haste, and do bear in mind there’s a hell of a lot riding on this. By the way, the defence minister will be your immediate controller, he has substancial SAS experience, he will remain in contact with you throughout by satellite phone. I know its unconventional, but this is an unconventional foray and the minister does have significant military experience. Also he is in direct contact with me at all times, so we have gone to a lot of trouble to dispense with as much red tape as possible,' he could hear a muted rendition of Onward Christian Soldiers on the large organ and suddenly realised that was the cue for the coffin exit from the cathedral.

  ‘I will let you go now commander. I wish you bon voyage and good hunting,’ the PM folded his phone, breathed a much needed sigh of relief, and walked quickly back just in time to see the coffin being slowly carried ou
t of the cathedral towards the hearse. He had missed his place as chief coffin bearer.

  There were a few strange looks from some of the higher luminaries as he appeared at the side of the coffin. A speech to the nation and part of the eulogy had gone wanting, with the PM nowhere to be seen when he was needed. The Treasurer had to be called in to complete the PM’s speech. He bowed his head as the coffin passed, kissed his hand and placed it on the side of the pine wood, then whispered to himself...Good-bye my dear friend,’ and in an even fainter wisper...‘and bloody good riddance!'

  Muscat

  Several hours of fault free flying brought Jansen and his team within sight of the middle eastern city without making a fuel stop. After ten minutes hassle with flight controllers the team finally landed at Muscat International The jet came in low, a sleek white bird, her fuselage embellished from to tail with a slick black stripe. No other insignia indicated her service classification or nationality. She was a smart plane on the outside but very utilitarian on the inside. A dedicated machine for the job in hand, she could be quickly striped back to her bare metal infrastructure for bulky cargo handling or drastic range increase.

  Jansen praised the new Dassault 7X aircraft and applauded the Australian government for purchasing the plane for special purposes. It was a superb machine for covert, off-the-cuff, global missions, requiring lots of discretion. The aircraft taxied within fifty metres of the airport buildings and came to a gentle stop. Jansen peered at the surroundings his feelings heightened by the obvious increase in external temperature. A cloying reaction began to form in his stomach as he pondered what the future might hold for them. He rubbed the window of the small sixteen seater airport bus which delivered them to the check-in area to get a better view of the facilities.