A Touch Of War: A Military Thriller Novel

by Isaac Stormm

  “Then what just came over the wire made sense. OPEC released to the press a final proposal for peace. Russia issued a statement to our ambassador right after that they support the proposal and will cease oil exports to us if we don’t comply by midnight. They’ve upped the ante.”

  “What now?”

  “I’m waiting on word from Anderson. I’d like to try to get a joint statement by our two nations rejecting the offer and that we will counter propose our original offer.”

  “That’s a hell of a gamble.”

  Washington, D.C.

  6:47 A.M.

  “Might as well learn to stay up all night. It seems to be when all this stuff is taking place,” Anderson said, coming through the situation room door. “Going to be a long day again.”

  Mitchell just briefly acknowledged him. He was too busy looking at the laptop. “Movement?” Anderson said, pressing the on button to boot up.

  “We’ve been picking up some signals that more Iranian divisions are on their way into Iraq. What’s more disturbing though is this claim that they’ve already sent one million suicide bombers toward Syria. Had them riding in cars and buses, looking just like another civilian. Remember the Intel briefing I gave last year about their Special Forces? Well, these aren’t necessarily special. But they are unique in the fact that the Iranians claim four million of them and what our intel has been able to gather, they’re close to that mark. They’ve had it for years.”

  “Won’t the Israelis just mow them down by the bushel?”

  “That depends on how they’re used. I can see small units of these being used against armored vehicles. Hell, maybe even a human wave attack by the thousands if the Iranians feel bold.”

  “Thoughts for a later time.” The screen popped up a situational map of the Middle East showing the disposition of U.S. forces, Iranian and Israeli forces in the form of tiny blue and red flags. “How many airstrikes have we conducted since being attacked?”

  “Two. The base where the speedboats came from and some surface-to-air missile sites near where the strait closes in.”

  “Now, OPEC. Damnedest thing I ever saw. A bunch of countries sensing blood in the water. Now they’re showing just how powerful they really are.” He rested his chin on his palm “What do we have now? Ten hours to go?”

  “Correct.”

  “Grozner wants us to stand firm with their offer for peace. Ignore the OPEC one. That’s just too damn dangerous.”

  “Are we going to give in?”

  “No. But we need some way to buy more time. I think I could get the U.N. to press OPEC for that. But to be totally honest, I don’t see either Israel or OPEC changing their position much no matter how much time we get. I’m going to be a pragmatist and say this may be something we’ll have to ride all the way.”

  “I have two carriers in the Med that can transit the Suez Canal, get down the Red Sea and join the rest of our fleet in the Strait of Hormuz. Although I think it would be past the deadline when they would finally be ready for action…If I may, sir, I’d like to ask a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Well, at your request we attacked the Iranian mainland and drew some blood. What about getting them while they’re moving in Iraq. Slow them down if not outright destroy them and keep them from moving on Israel.”

  “I’m afraid that if we do, we’ll be viewed as co-conspirators. My hunch is Israel will take them out when they start getting close to Syria. As for the Saudis, they won’t be a problem for the Israelis to handle them. But if OPEC gets in on it, you got the possibility of armies closing in three directions on Israel.”

  “Just like the end times at Megiddo.”

  “I don’t think the Jews would let them get close enough. I’m looking beyond that at the possibility of them using nuclear weapons to answer such an attack if it comes down to it.”

  “I’d recommend cautioning them not to come to that point,” Mitchell said.

  “Can do. But I don’t think it will matter when you have an enemy closing in on you from so many angles. They’ll do what they must.” He pushed the laptop away. “I can imagine that if the shoe was on the other foot and we were in that situation, we would probably react the same way.”

  “What if Israel attacks us?”

  That question caught Anderson completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “If they deliberately ignored who it was guarding the oil fields and took them out anyway. Everyone’s aware what it would do to the Middle East. It would set the area back hundreds of years, but would leave Israel firmly in charge. And still existing. It remains a possibility, however remote one might think it is.”

  Anderson’s curiosity was piqued. That was probably the most extreme circumstance he heard suggested since this whole affair started.

  “I hope Grozner would not go that far. If he did, I could see myself turning against him. Not Israel mind you, just him. He can’t afford that.”

  The laptop screen changed and Grozner’s face appeared. Anderson pulled it in a little closer. “Prime Minister.”

  “Now that you’ve heard of OPEC’s ultimatum, I’m going to ask that you reject it. We are willing to work with the U.N. for cessation of all hostilities as soon as possible. However, OPEC seems predisposed to turn down any such resolution that does not match theirs. I am anxious to hear your reply.”

  “I’ve got a conference scheduled with Rasmuth immediately following our talk. From what I understand, he too does not like the OPEC plan. I also have to say that if we did knock off any type of offensive military action, it may greatly increase our chances of finding a successful outcome.”

  “I’m afraid my people won’t allow it. And I won’t either. We’ve suffered our worst civilian losses since the country was formed. We’re already moving back into Lebanon to smash Hezbollah. And we are establishing a ten-mile exclusion zone between the borders of Lebanon and Syria as well as Egypt and Jordan. Any aircraft entering this corridor will be immediately engaged by our fighters. We have already informed these countries of our intentions. Of course they reject it and claim they will use self-defense to shoot us down. We cannot take any chances and wait for any kind of airborne incursion into our territory.”

  “Mr. Prime Minister, with all due respect, I find you to be too headstrong on this matter. I know of your casualties and I sympathize with you, but what you just said about adding an exclusion zone just upped the ante even more. As a friend and ally, I call upon you to please renege on that plan. We will find a solution together with the United Nations. Please.”

  “I’m sorry you don’t see things from my perspective. Our situation is much more dire. If I don’t take the steps, we risk engaging airborne threats over Israel proper. I have to do this.”

  “If OPEC’s deadline comes and goes and you don’t stop hostilities, it could drag the United States into a joint action against these Arab countries. It will be a grim outlook for the world’s future. I don’t ever want to see us face that.”

  “Again, I go back to my proposal to cease all hostilities if Iran and Saudi Arabia will cease their joint aggression against us. Also, despite what they’ve done to us, and against my people’s wishes, I’m willing to take another step and accept a cease-fire from Hezbollah if we don’t smash them first.”

  No one’s going to do anything, Anderson thought. This is going to keep rolling like a snowball effect, getting bigger and bigger. He knew his words carried no weight whatsoever. And he suspected Grozner didn’t care whether he was weak or strong on the matter. He had made up his mind and was sticking to it.

  “Ten hours, Mr. Prime Minister. Just ten hours.”

  “Our forces are prepared. The U.N. must get across to OPEC that we will not be bullied into stopping what threatens our survival. Negotiation only has a certain amount of wiggle room given the losses we have sustained. If it hadn’t been for Hezbollah’s attack on our cities with chemical weapons, I would be much more open. But they expanded the conflict. My pe
ople would hang me if I was viewed as running away and letting other nations dictate how we defend ourselves.”

  “Well then, there it is.” Anderson looked down at the desk then over at Mitchell. “You and I should begin praying for divine deliverance from this awful calamity that is approaching.”

  “Mr. President. I’ve been praying since before we struck Iran. It is the other side’s hatred that drives them. Not their cultures. The same with OPEC. This is a religious offensive against the Jews. I’m afraid you may not understand that.”

  What if it was? He knew if it had gotten that far, the world was in worse shape than anyone anticipated. Still, it could be. Religious wars had shaped the millennia. “I would hope that would be the last motivating factor, because that would be the most difficult obstacle to overcome.” He thought through a pause then asked, “You sound like it’s already decided.”

  “Not on our end. But I must assume its playing a major role with them.”

  “Prime Minister, I want us to be on the same page from this moment forward. When I talk to Rasmuth, one of the things he will say is that Israel must suspend its offensive in Lebanon. I know that on this issue you remain steadfast. But I ask you please to show some flexibility, if we can work out something.”

  “Mr. President, I can be flexible at any time. But when my country says I must act, I must follow their hearts.”

  “Then I must ask you to consider going against your people if I cannot get a deal worked out.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Then say a prayer for us both.” An icon at the top left of the screen flashed. It was Rasmuth. “It’s him.”

  “Farewell, Mr. President. I wish we could end under better circumstances but I’m afraid you don’t understand just how dire our situation is.”

  Maybe someday he would. He knew that if terrorists launched poison gas from Mexico or Canada into the U.S. and the people rose up demanding a firm response that he would’ve had to give it whether he wanted to or not. Even if that meant widening a war. So he really couldn’t fault Grozner. At least not yet.

  “Good day, Mr. President.” Rasmuth appeared from his office in New York City. “OPEC has sent us both for a tumble. This war is about to get much bigger. You and I may be the only ones on earth that can work something out that prevents that.”

  “I need you to insist to OPEC that this ultimatum that they speak of is too inflexible. Maybe we could get them to give more time. That way at least there’s a shot something else can be done.” He looked at the clock in the upper right corner and saw that it was near seven. “I want to speak with them directly. Can you arrange that?”

  “They have said no. They don’t want to talk to you or anybody else in the West. They just keep reiterating what will happen to Israel,” Rasmuth said. “They become obstinate to any suggestion of negotiation that I offer, claiming that they’re wondering if I don’t secretly work for Israel or the United States. It appears that they have shut themselves off from any kind of reasoning that doesn’t agree with their stance.”

  “I will try again to speak with them directly. If I can succeed, I would like for you to try too. Tell them it’s never too late to talk.”

  “Don’t know how much good it would do but I’ll make another attempt.”

  “Make more than one attempt.”

  They said goodbye just as Mitchell began typing furiously. “What’s wrong?” Anderson said.

  “The Iraqis have said they will cancel all United States contracts with their oil industry. This comes directly from our ambassador’s mouth in Baghdad. All American workers as well as any other workers belonging to NATO countries will be rounded up and shipped home.”

  Anderson felt the rage rise to the top of his head. Then it shot back into his stomach to rumble deep within. “Bastards.” He slammed his fist down on the desk. “We give them everything.” It was not enough. “In that case, shut down all intelligence sharing with them and pull our military and economic advisors out, immediately.”

  Mitchell nodded and typed some more. “Giving the order now. I assume you still want to keep our ambassador there.”

  “Yes. We have to have some representative to listen to the garbage they spew as an excuse.”

  Tel Aviv

  2:27 P.M.

  The room was small. This particular holding cell featured a two-way mirror that looked in on the subject being interrogated. A chair sat in the middle of the room underneath a hanging light. Behind it lay a hospital bed with straps for the wrists and ankles.

  The two soldiers walked Zarin in and set him down in the chair. They then stood guard just a few feet away at the door. Foxmann came in next, carrying the file under his arm. He closed the door and positioned himself in front of the new prisoner. “Colonel Zarin, within this folder we have quite a bit of information on you. Would you like me to read what we know about you already?”

  “It isn’t necessary, Colonel Foxmann.”

  This intrigued Foxmann. He’d like to know how he got his name, because he hadn’t mentioned it at any time Zarin had been with him. “Very good. How did you come to know my name?”

  A partial smile angled up on a corner of Zarin’s mouth. “We have our own ways. And we have agents who use the same methods as you to extract information. Don’t act so surprised.”

  “Our two nations are at war. I have a feeling that you hold the key to a lot of their future plans. You know what we can do to you to get that information.”

  “My work is done. Prematurely to be sure. But without the ability to communicate with my drones, I’m useless. This is the truth you will hear from me when you give me the sodium pentothal. I will not be saying beyond that because I simply do not know anything.”

  “Given what’s happened to our country, and the large role you played in bringing down our defenses, it is certainly possible we will put you on a war crimes trial the way we did Eichmann back in 1960. If we do that, we may reintroduce the death penalty specifically for you.”

  Zarin closed his mouth, moved his tongue around and gave a gritty smile. Spittle seeped between his teeth to run down his chin. Foxmann knew what he just did. He lunged with his fingers trying to pry open the man’s jaws. The two guards rushed torward him, sticking their fingers into his jaws, trying to pry the clenched teeth apart.

  “Get it out…of there,” Foxmann strained, saliva streaming through his fingers like a colander. He noticed Zarin’s eyes slowly rolling up into his head and the man let out a gasp which gave way to the fingers jamming into his throat. They picked out two halves of the cyanide capsule, broken and free of its lethal content. Zarin let out another choking, guttural sigh and his head went limp to one side. How the hell? They’d searched his mouth back when they first took him. It was empty. The only way he could’ve pulled it off was to have a tooth, usually a molar hollowed out to act as a compartment. It opened by pushing the edge of the tooth up and the capsule would fall out. This is just what had happened before his eyes.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his slick fingers off one at a time. The two guards looked at each other. “I don’t have anything to say. The bastard got away with it. That’s all there is to it.” He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and turned to face Philpot who just walked in to see what was going on. He looked past Foxmann and walked over to Zarin. With a thumb, he raised an eyelid seeing only the white of his cornea. He slowly lowered the lid back down and gripped the man’s hair and started shaking the head. It was almost as if he was going start pummeling him with a fist, but he released it to let it fall back to its old position. He turned to Foxmann biting his lip. “I better go tell the prime minister.”

  Foxmann nodded and looked down at the floor. This one of all the ones he’d want to get interrogated, got away. And it was one of the biggest if not the biggest catch in years. He dismissed the two men to leave him there alone with the body. The thought of what might be happening in a few hours played through his mi
nd. Then he said, “You got off too easy.” He walked to the wall, turned out the light and closed the door behind him.

  Metzer glanced over at Grozner just as he said goodbye to Anderson. “Do you really believe he and Rasmuth can work something out?”

  “Frankly, no. Not a chance in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if OPEC never wants to speak with them again. They’re just wasting their breath.”

  “When I was a boy, my father told me of his exploits in the underground and how when Israel declared her independence, the Arab nations all sent soldiers to squash her. We survived it then. I have no doubt we would make a good account of us now. But either way, it’s going to get god-awful bloody, Ariel.”

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “I wondered if I had lost the election, and people that think like Houser became prime minister, would he stop the offensive into Lebanon and be willing to sit down with OPEC?”

  “Maybe it’s best that we didn’t find out.”

  “They would’ve gotten an earful from the people if they had.” He rose and walked over to the window. Metzer joined him. Then, in walked Philpot.

  “Have they given him the shot yet?” Grozner didn’t bother to look at him.

  “That’s what I’m here about. He’s dead.”

  “No. No way. What happened—”

  “He hid a small vial of cyanide in a fake tooth. A molar in the corner of his mouth. In that moment, he used his tongue to manipulate the tooth open and swallowed it just as we tried to reach into his mouth and stop it. He was dead before he hit the ground.”

  “Just like Herman Goring,” Grozner said, referring to what the Nazi war criminal did a few hours before he was to meet the hangman at Nuremberg. Grozner imagined him flopping around, saliva oozing from his lips, happy at the thought that he defeated the Jews at the last moment. “One dead. For one of our best agents. I don’t like the trade off.”