Tehran Decree

by James Scorpio

  Jansen felt the heat flash on the back of his neck and through the flak jacket he was wearing, as if someone had applied a blow torch to his flesh. Momentarily he looked back to see a huge black cloud heading towards him in slow motion. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced the slowing down of human reactions during a life threatening incident. He wasn’t quite sure if it was reality or the mind, or perhaps a combination of the two, which gave rise to the slow motion phenomena.

  Ironically at that precise moment he thought about Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, time contraction, and the human subjectivity of such observations. It was strange how ones perceptions changed when a massive dose of adrenaline was dumped into the blood stream.

  He pushed harder on his limbs trying to get the last ounce of energy into his muscles, paradoxically the more effort he put in, the stiffer his muscles became and the slower his forward motion. The ground gave way beneath him, and a sense of weightlessness took hold. Impulsively, he had the presence of mind to clap his hands over his ears, as the deafening sound wave passed over him. His body plunged head first into a large sand dune blacking everything out. A prolonged silence ensued, and his senses no longer seemed to be responding to outside forces. For a few indelible moments Jansen could not make out whether he was alive or dead, and he struggled to lift his head out of the sand. It was the faint drone of large jet aircraft overhead that finally gave him back his senses.

  Pulling his head out of the sand and gazing into the void he could just make out a tiny silver reflection of a high altitude bomber, and its tell tale vapour trails, which marked its position in the sky. This must have been the view Japanese survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the Americans dropped the atom bomb on their cities. Humans were an inquisitive species and always compared their circumstances to incidents in the past.

  As he turned his head earthward he thought he saw movement. A flash in the sand dunes just east of the dirt road, possibly a reflection off a vehicle windscreen as it moved out of sight...or even an hallucination after the gross assault on his senses.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Jenkins looked at the Washington monument from his desk window, he had often admired its symbolic overtones, it was one of the many artifacts around the capital that was quintessentially American, and that was the way he liked it. Anything that sybolised America’s greatness was good -- good for moral, good for the country, good for its enemies and ultimately good for the world from an American point of view.

  Without America what would the world be? The thought stuck in his throat -- it was unthinkable! His laptop was open on his desk with a hot cup of his favourite coffee next to it. He scrolled down the screen to his software planner and browsed the entries.

  They were a list of accomplishments along with dates of achievement; it was literally a CV of his goals for the past ten years. A superlative diary to be gloated over, this is what made life so worth while. It was all about accomplishments -- scraps of extraordinary happenings which he happily fed to his ego, it breathed new life into his existence as the ultimate force in world politics.

  A smug smile was in order as he added his latest demand to his prestigious wish list. He typed it in bold letters...

  Sunday CEREMONY

  1/ Inauguration as President of the United States.

  It went well with the rest of the list and was in fact the culmination of all his efforts over the years. There seemed to be little point in being the US president by default only, after all, a de facto president was just an ad hoc fill-in position. It just had to be the real thing signed and approved by the law makers and public alike.

  Pouring himself a large bourbon, he eased a modicum of soda water down the side of the glass, swirled it around, and drank it in one large gulp. He lifted the house phone and dialed his personal secretary.

  ‘Hello Harry, president Jenkins speaking,’ he intoned with conviction, ‘how are the preparations coming along for the official inauguration?’

  ‘The chief justice has been informed and we’ll be conducting the ceremony at the Capital’s West Front in line with previous inaugurations sir.’

  ‘Good...I was just thinking about that Harry...due to the current situation, might it be wiser to conduct it inside the Capital building.’

  ‘Yes Mr. President, that is possible, I follow your reasoning, that will make the security arrangements a little easier, but we may have difficulty fitting everyone into the building.’

  ‘It should be simple enough Harry, just cull the list until we can get them all in...after all it is the inauguration of the president that’s important, not the number of resident guests, and in any case, the whole rigmarole is only a formality.’

  ‘True, but what a wondrous formality sir, its not everyday one becomes the president of the United States. I know the ceremony can be a little unnerving, but look at it as symbol of recognition by your peers sir. A procedure which indemnifies you as the most prestigious and influential man in the world,’ Jenkins smiled serenely -- hearing this accolade directly from one of his peers was sheer joy.

  ‘You do have a point there Harry, thank you that positive spin...I await my fate.’

  ‘Right sir...I’ll give you a call when we’re ready for you.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Jenkin’s poured himself another bourbon and sat back in his large upholstered chair. His eyes scanned the well appointed office area, these were the wings, the place where future presidents waited for their que to become the US president -- the so called most powerful man in the world.

  He was aware that many people in the cabinet and associated areas were resentful of his sudden rise to the most coveted political position in America. Although this was the grand achievement in his life he felt uneasy. There was still something nagging away at the back of his brain, which he couldn’t nail down. Being a full blown hands on politician, this was hard for him to understand. Men in high positions were supposed to know everything and be able to handle almost anything, be super human in fact, in the eyes of the public. His mind wondered on to government as a working entity in its own right.

  Governments were delicate, unpredictable, and tended to be unstable by virtue of the fact that they depended on the human element which controlled them. Politics was the name of the rat racy manipulation that went on relentlessly for the control of society, and was the thing that drove government. And in politics, all was fair in love, and war. By its very nature politics tended to skirt the law, and in some countries it was the absolute law. But so far, he had out foxed his contemporaries fair and square, and that was all the politics he needed.

  The inauguration would finally remove all doubts about his authority and all the non conformists would have to be removed from cabinet and any other associated public offices. The president was the commander in chief, full stop, and that was true in all important areas as far as he were concerned.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  He was on his third glass of bourbon and feeling pleasantly relaxed, when his mobile buzzed. In spite of his modest inebriation, it jolted his composure, and he snatched the mobile from his desk.

  ‘Hello...Jenkins...’

  ‘You’re on sir...show time in five minutes...’ Jenkins folded up his mobile, took several deep breaths, and finished his forth bourbon. He had developed a taste and tolerance for fine spirit which fell just short of alcoholism. He knew when the stage had been reached, his body told him so in many subtle ways, and he had practiced the exact cut off point over the years. If there was such a thing as a controlled alcoholic -- then it was he, Steven Jenkin’s, who was the ultimate living example. He licked his spirit salved lips and made his way to the capital building. He could hear the hum and banter of the mass of people as he entered the back transepts of the large building.

  A sudden thought crept up on him as he climbed the steps towards the rostrum and the supporting luminaries.

  He was single...a single president was almost unheard of...you had to be married
to be president. It dented his mind set from positive to negative. Thirty seconds remained for the preamble and oath taking to take place. He had to find an alternate positive thought...then he remembered the 15th US president, James Buchanon, he was a president who was never married, and quite possibly, there might have been a few others? He scalded himself for not knowing the US presidential lineage and associated details. It was the one thing people might expect him to know, but such trivia was never one of his good points.

  Staring at the faces in the crowded room, he forced a smile, and a modest cheer erupted from a group of well wishers gathered at the front of the assembly. He stood next to the rostrum and the chief justice caught his eye with a solemn gaze. A short pause and the chief justice began to speak authoritatively into the microphone.

  ‘Repeat after me...I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully..., he knew the oath of affirmation back to front and felt like reeling it off in double time, ‘execute the Office of the President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.’

  He had just reached the word ‘ability’ when several loud gun shots near the side entry doors interrupted the proceedings.

  Jenkins squinted aggressively at a group of men and women who had just entered the room. The leading man was waving a revolver in the air and shouting.

  ‘Stop the inauguration -- it’s illegal,’ Jenkin’s stared incredulously at the shouting man. ABC, CBS and CNN news channel cameras at the front of the proceedings jostled each other for a close up of Jenkins, catching his scowling mannerism and the smallest beads of sweat on his brow.

  Then they switched to the man leading the insurrectionists, his face seemed more than familiar. He was waving a small pistol -- it was Garner, president Garner...he stood a mere two metres from the rostrum with the revolver aimed at the man about to be inaugurated -- Jenkin’s reacted immediately pointing his finger at him..

  ‘Arrest that man before he shoots someone,’ two policeman moved in from the side lines and stood in total bewilderment as they recognised their former president. Garner pushed himself forward still brandishing the revolver.

  ‘I‘m afraid you are the one who is under arrest,’ Garner snapped contemptuously at Jenkins.

  Jenkins peered more closely at the entourage surrounding Garner. Ellen Monard the National Security Advisor stood at Garner’s side with the FBI Director and the Attorney General standing behind them. Jenkins was beside himself trying to find the right words to fit the unprecedented occasion which confronted him.

  ‘But this is impossible, the MOAB strike, and the plutonium implant...they would have...’ Jenkins stopped abruptly, suddenly realising he might be incriminating himself. Garner lowered the revolver.

  ‘I’ll finish that sentence for you...they would have killed me...but they didn’t. In spite of your deceptions and your dirty politics your plan has failed,’ Jenkins rapidly back peddled and tried to resume his composure.

  ‘I have carried out my duties to the best of my ability, if there is any fault here it is yours sir,’ he continued his finger pointing.

  ‘How do we know you are not some impostor masquerading as the former president?’ Garner squirmed a little and vented a sarcastic smile.

  ‘There is one thing you were not aware of Steven, I had a double. A specially trained secret service agent who resembled me in features and build,’ he turned and placed his hand on Ellen Monard’s shoulder.

  ‘I owe this kind lady my life. It was Ellen who first noticed this similarity and suggested I use him as a double in risky situations...the man was highly agreeable. And why not...it fulfilled his oath of allegiance to a tee. To serve and protect the president of the United States...this job he fulfilled one hundred percent, which is a lot more than I can say for you, vice president Jenkins.’

  ‘If that is true sir, where is this security agent?’

  ‘You know the answer to that...the man is vapourised into millions of particles; the result of your foolhardy MAOB debacle in Muscat.’

  ‘It was necessary, we did our utmost to protect the interests of the United States, and the American people.’

  ‘You certainly did that, but you forgot to protect your president. I have the security services to thank for my life. However, there was a stage in this horrible business when I thought my time was at an end,’ Jenkin’s stance noticeably softened.

  ‘When was that sir?’

  ‘We were in the tunnel trapped in the presidential limousine with rounds flying in all directions and secret service personnel dying in their droves. There were only minutes to spare before the terrorists turned on the limousine. Thankfully, the vehicle was bullet proofed, but the real horror was the rocket propelled grenades they were carrying --. one direct hit and we would all be finished.

  ‘But this is incredible Mr. President, let me be one of the first to congratulate you and welcome you back.’ Jenkin’s extended his right hand in an elaborate show of false concern. Garner ignored it.

  ‘You are not one of the first to welcome me back actually...you are one of the last,’ A pretentious smile flickered across the vice president’s face.

  ‘I understand your attitude sir...but you must remember, politics is a very serious game...their can be no long lasting sentiments based on evanescent emotions. You’re back, alive, and well, this is a victory for America, we have outwitted them at there own game. How on earth did you managed to pull it off so convincingly?’

  ‘By sheer good fortune, security agent James Black, my double, happened to be sitting in the front passenger seat. I was partially predisposed due to a cigar smoking incident, which I bitterly regret, and I was prostrate in the back of the car.

  James crawled over the back seat, offered his total allegiance, and we swapped lapel badges and wallets, then I struggled into the front passenger seat. I did my best to act and look like a security guard. The terrorists fell for it completely and I was able to escape,’ Jenkins smiled triumphantly, faking his emotions, and trying his best to emulate a better relationship between the two men.

  ‘End of story then sir?’

  ‘Not quite...there’s the little matter of your strange behaviour during the crisis,’ Jenkins frowned.

  ‘My strange behaviour?’

  ‘Yes...you dropped a MOAB device in order to kill one man...that man was me!’

  ‘But you were already dying of plutonium poisoning ...once the Iranian’s had you at their mercy they would have tortured you for weeks, creating untold suffering, and then they would have chopped your head off over the Internet for all the world to see.’

  ‘No, I think not, you had to end your own suffering. Knowing that I might still be alive drove you to distraction. You couldn’t stand the idea that I might just survive and return as your president, so you compensated for your fears. By dropping the biggest bomb you could lay your hands on, knowing the no one could possibly emerge alive...especially the president of the United States.

  Lets face it Steven, your lust for power knows no bounds it’s turned you into a psychopathic madman. A man prepared to kill any number of people in order to be the most powerful man in on earth.’

  ‘You can say and think what you like sir, your prerogative, but you’re overlooking one thing, as vice president it is my duty to take over the president’s job should he be unable to perform his duties. As far as we were concerned you were a prisoner without volition; the moment the presidential motorcade entered the Sydney cross city tunnel. So lets face it Frederick, you were in no position to run the country.’

  Jenkins was right, according to the 25th amendment he had every right to take over, and run the country as he saw fit -- even to the point of disposing of the entrapped president -- even though this may have amounted to bureaucratic assassination.

  The plutonium poisoning and the MOAB incident, excessive as they were, could in all probability be legally justified in a court of law. But these were Machiavellian
tactics and not the sort of thing morally responsible democratic countries should be practicing, but being morally responsible wasn’t real politics. It was Machiavelli himself who said...Force and prudence are the might of all governments that ever have been or will be in the world. Jenkins had certainly used force but it was his twisted prudence that worried Garner.

  Jenkins forced a flat smile, ‘We’re both grossly overwrought over this horrible business Mr. president...may I suggest we allow ourselves a cooling off period,’ Garner looked sharply at Jenkins then reluctantly nodded. At this stage it would undoubtedly be extreme folly to try to impeach Jenkins for his inept handling of what was a really difficult situation -- there had to be another way -- there was, but it would have to wait a more favorable time

  The current political turmoil also forbade any prolonged infighting as this would severely weaken the government at a time when it needed to be at its strongest.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Five minutes had elapsed before Jansen finally regained most of his senses and took a good look around taking note of his bearings. It was flat, virtually everything that had been standing had been leveled, random piles of blackened rubble were all that remained of the warehouse. It was a scene straight from hell and nothing could possibly have lived through the massive onslaught

  It was strangely silent, as if somehow nature had made a mistake, and was sulking with embarrassment in the background not wanting to show herself -- then unexpectedly, the silence began to vibrate -- humming, like a subdued penny whistle it permeated the backdrop. Nature was cooking up one of her favourite tricks in this part of her domain. Repeated through time immemorial she was in the throes of perpetuating a sandstorm, perhaps in a half hearted attempt to cover up the ugly hinterland scaring. Storms of this nature came in different grades and different ways. Some just sprang up instantly out of nowhere, others gradually made their way on stage.