by Jeff Nesbit
“Because I know the Rev. Shahidi—what is in his heart and, more importantly, what is in his mind as he plans his next course of action,” Rowan answered calmly. “Iran will act, in many different quarters. Israel may have achieved success in the past two days, but Iran has many proxies that will act now.”
“And what of Israel?”
“Israel will not be forgotten. I can assure you of that. There are plans for them as well.”
21
TEHRAN, IRAN
Ali Zhubin was beside himself. He could barely contain his anger as he waited outside the Rev. Shahidi’s private quarters in a quiet part of Tehran, where Shahidi preferred to do business.
How could the Israelis have intercepted their intermediate-range missile so easily? It should have been a shining moment for Iran’s nuclear program—the day Iran arrived on the world stage, finally, as a nuclear superpower. Yet the world had hardly reacted to the defeat. It was just one more in a series of victories by Israel’s military forces.
But the Rev. Shahidi had noticed and was already talking about bringing Bahadur up on charges before the Guardian Council. Ahmadian had noticed and managed to say something colossally stupid in public about it—something to the effect that God had guided the missile directly into the path of the Arrow interceptor to allow Iran to test their system. He’d then vowed that the clock was now ticking and that the 12th Imam was waiting in the wings, ready to take the stage to challenge the Dajjal, who would appear shortly. Zhubin just wished Ahmadian would learn to keep quiet.
He also wondered why the Rev. Shahidi kept Ahmadian around. Perhaps he needed a useful fool, someone who uttered ridiculous things in public. Ahmadian distracted the Western press with his pomposity, his rantings about the 12th Imam, and his constant drumbeat about the coming Apocalypse.
Zhubin was a realist and quite practical in his views about politics.
He knew precisely where Shahidi had come from, what he stood for, how far he would go—and how he would sacrifice even friends when necessary to achieve his larger geopolitical goals.
Shahidi was the driving force behind Iran’s quiet, steady march toward empire in the Middle East. The truth was that Shahidi would have vastly preferred to avoid a military confrontation with Israel. It was a much more certain route to empire through proxies in Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, and Afghanistan, along with economic and military help from Russia, China, and North Korea.
It was only a matter of time before the Sunni regime began to crumble and fall away in places like Saudi Arabia. Iran’s Shi’a leadership was poised, and ready, to move when such events presented opportunities.
Iran’s nuclear weapons ambitions had always been something driven by the Revolutionary Guards’ leadership—and Zhubin had been forced to carry their arguments to Shahidi’s chambers. Zhubin knew the very careful line he walked with Shahidi, who was ambivalent at best about the utility of pursuing nuclear weapons. One misstep and Zhubin’s career—and perhaps his life—were over.
Today would be a crucial test with Shahidi. The first test of the Shahab 3 had been both a victory and a very public failure. The missile had made it to Israel, but not its intended target. Zhubin could not predict Shahidi’s reaction to the events.
He’d studied Shahidi for years. The enigmatic cleric who refused to travel outside of Iran or meet with leaders from the West still confounded Zhubin on occasion.
The door to Shahidi’s study opened. Zhubin rose from his seat and took a step forward.
“My friend,” the Rev. Shahidi said softly, extending his left hand, “God grant you peace. We have much to discuss.”
“Yes, we do.” Zhubin grasped his left hand firmly. Shahidi’s right hand had been paralyzed in a terrorist attack decades earlier. The incident had left his right hand permanently disabled and had shaped his personal views in ways that Zhubin still struggled to understand.
They walked into the study, which was furnished largely with books, a smallish table, and very little else. His prayer rug was carefully folded to one side of the bookshelf. It was a quiet, peaceful place—a place where revolution, chaos, and apocalypse seemed out of place. Talk of missiles and war seemed foreign here. Shahidi’s white robe swished as they walked.
Shahidi rarely spoke in public—and only in broad generalities when he did venture into those waters. He made everyone come to him—even the likes of Andrei Rowan from Russia or the North Koreans. They all made the trek to Tehran and, eventually, to this quiet study.
As they sat, Zhubin watched as Iran’s Supreme Leader stroked his now-graying beard gently, easily. That was a good sign. Zhubin had watched his leader in many meetings such as this. Stroking his beard meant he was in a thoughtful, deliberative mood—and was not preparing for some precipitous action.
“Let me congratulate you, my friend,” Shahidi said as they settled into their chairs at the small table. There was a plain brown folder on the table. Zhubin did not reach for it. If Shahidi wanted him to see its contents, he would offer it.
“Your kind words are always welcome.”
“Today was a great victory for the Guards,” Shahidi said. “This day has long been anticipated, and we achieved much.”
Zhubin just nodded and waited before engaging. “We serve at your pleasure.”
Shahidi looked off into the distance, through the nearest window. “There is much good news in the events of the past two hours. The world now knows that we can respond to Israel. The missile worked, as it was intended. Had it reached its target, the weapon would have given us a great victory. That is important. It is a good thing. We always anticipated that Israel could intercept a lone missile. Its defenses are much too sophisticated to allow a single missile to make its way through.”
“Yes, that is true.”
“We will not speak again of the decision to launch the missile. It was the right decision. It achieved what we’d hoped. Israel knows, now, what its adversary is capable of—and that we are willing to strike back at their very heart.”
“Yes, the world knows that we can reach into Israel with our longer-range missiles.”
Shahidi looked back. His eyes were shining with an intensity rarely seen as he looked directly at Zhubin. For a brief moment, Zhubin could see what Shahidi must have been, once, as a battlefield commander. “But that is not enough, is it, my friend?”
“No, I do not believe so,” Zhubin answered cautiously.
“No, it is not.”
Shahidi moved his left hand toward the folder and slid it gently toward his military commander. “Please, look inside.”
Zhubin opened the folder. It was a brief military report of both on-site and remote reconnaissance of one of the sites Israel had attacked near Shiraz—the site where the Guards had been covertly enriching massive amounts of uranium. Zhubin glanced through the satellite photos, the printout of atmospheric readings, and the conclusions in both Russian and, now, Farsi.
The report’s conclusions were clear and would undoubtedly be communicated to the United Nation’s Security Council members shortly. Israel had used tactical nuclear weapons—in fact, a clear first strike—against Iran’s facilities. Once this was known to the world, things would change.
Shahidi leaned forward. “We have two tasks that we must begin today. They must be done. There can be no failure. We have prepared for this day. We know what we must do.”
“The Strait?” asked Zhubin.
“Yes, and their carrier, the Abraham Lincoln. Both must be achieved. From the mountains, the air, and beneath the waters, turn all of it on the Americans and the Israelis. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Zhubin said firmly. “And we will not fail. I give you my word.”
He pushed his chair back. He had his orders, and he would not fail, not today. Both of these objectives were within his grasp.
22
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
He made sure he was on time today. He could afford to be late to most meetings in New York. But not this one
, not today. The black town car pulled up to the curb behind several other nearly identical black town cars parked outside a side entrance to the New York headquarters of the United Nations.
It was hard to tell, from the cars, who was here today for a special convening of the 1540 Committee. The Russian ambassador to the United Nations, Grigori Ulanov, had not made it widely known to others in the tight diplomatic community that operated in and around the UN what he was bringing to the 1540 committee today. Ulanov had merely promised that it would be interesting.
While the 1540 Committee was well known to those who labored in the dark, complex worlds of nuclear non-proliferation, the public had no idea what it did and likely did not care. It was chaired by Costa Rica—hardly known for its leadership in stopping the export of nuclear weapons technology around the world. But the membership of the 1540 Committee included China, Russia, the United States, and a few others, like Japan and the United Kingdom. The membership was enough to make it the right place for Ulanov’s message.
Ulanov double-checked the contents of his briefcase before exiting the town car, just to make sure he had enough. There were nearly twenty identical envelopes in the briefcase—more than enough to pass around the table of the committee.
The 1540 committee rarely met. The name came from Resolution 1540 adopted by the UN Security Council in 2004. It was set up to enforce export controls on nuclear technology to “non-state actors.” The 1540 Resolution required the member nations of the UN to refrain from supporting such “non-state actors”—otherwise known as terrorists—in their efforts to acquire chemical, biological, or nuclear weapons.
The 1540 Committee had released its first report to the UN in 2006, and then a second in 2008. The Security Council had extended its charter on several occasions.
Ulanov and the leadership in Moscow knew it was not the right committee at the UN for the envelopes and the information they contained. In fact, someone—either the UK or the United States, most likely—was likely to object on protocol grounds.
There were other venues and meetings that made more sense. The Security Council was meeting later that day in closed session, in fact, to discuss the series of events of the past forty-eight hours. But Ulanov would never have an opportunity to present envelopes such as these at the full Security Council, or even in the smaller subset of that panel with the superpowers. There were too many roadblocks.
The United States had vetoed virtually every resolution ever brought before the UN Security Council that contained language critical of Israel. While the Camara administration was clearly in the process of reconsidering policies at the heart of the Israel-Palestinian conflict, it was still U.S. policy to oppose any Security Council resolution that condemned Israel without also condemning terrorist groups. As a result of this longstanding U.S. policy, it was difficult to bring any issue before the Security Council that dealt only with Israel.
This was why Russia had opted for the somewhat obscure 1540 Committee. It was an asymmetrical move, diplomatically. Russia was sending a message by bringing their news to this particular committee, which had largely come into existence to put a spotlight on rogue nations that might consider handing the technology for weapons of mass destruction to terrorists. But, more importantly, it would put the issue squarely on the UN agenda at a critical moment.
When Ulanov entered the vast hall, the seats around the outer, semicircular table where staff and observers sat were completely full. Every representative of the committee membership was at the actual committee table in the center. The word had clearly gotten around—despite Ulanov’s efforts to keep it quiet—that Russia was dropping a bombshell at today’s meeting.
Ulanov glanced at the American seat and was pleased to see that his counterpart, Peter King, was there. They exchanged quick nods as he took his seat. He had not spoken to King about this meeting, which had been called on just twelve hours’ notice, but King no doubt knew what it was about. The American was not smiling.
Ulanov wasted no time. Shortly after being recognized by the Costa Rican ambassador, Ulanov rose from the table. The cavernous room grew quiet. More for effect than anything else, he walked around the table, personally delivering each envelope to the members of the 1540 Committee. This was a closed session—as were most of the sessions of the 1540 committee—but Ulanov knew the contents of the envelope would make it into the international press very quickly.
“Mr. Chairman,” he began, even as he was still handing out the envelopes, “let me say at the outset that the Russian Federation recognizes that the content of these envelopes is troubling. But we felt, given the events of the past forty-eight hours, we had no choice but to bring it to the committee’s attention. This may not be the best forum, but I will explain our rationale shortly.”
Ulanov glanced at his U.S. counterpart, even as he continued walking back to his seat. King had merely glanced at the contents and then closed the folder. He either knew what it contained—or didn’t care. “As you read through what I’ve provided,” Ulanov continued, “please bear in mind that we bring these facts to light reluctantly. But, as I said, we felt like we had no choice.”
King raised his hand. Ulanov glanced at the chairman, who nodded quickly. Ulanov turned back to his American counterpart and recognized him. “Mr. Chairman, I have examined the contents of this envelope,” King said, choosing his words carefully, “and I can tell you with absolute certainty that the 1540 Committee is not the place or time for this information. My friend from the Russian Federation knows this. It is more properly a matter for the Security Council, which meets later today.”
“Perhaps,” Ulanov said. He slid his chair out quietly and took his place at the table. “But my American friend knows full well that long-standing U.S. policy in these matters would, by necessity, require him to do everything in his power to keep information such as this from being presented to the Security Council.”
“The past is the past, and I cannot change that,” King said evenly. “But we are here, today, in the present, and we have difficult issues to address shortly at the Security Council. We all know what’s at stake right now.” He glanced down at the envelope. “And I can say that what the Russian Federation is presenting here today is not helpful.”
Ulanov smiled. “Are you saying that the United States would have an interest in joining us for a presentation of this information to the Security Council?”
“You may be surprised at what the United States is willing to present to the Security Council, on this and other matters,” King said.
“Are you saying that the United States would condemn Israel for its recent actions?” Ulanov raised one eyebrow. This was a new, unexpected development.
“I am saying that my friend from the Russian Federation should have consulted us before bringing the information to the 1540 Committee,” King answered. “He might have been surprised at our reaction—and what we are willing to consider—if he’d pursued that course.”
It almost stopped Ulanov. But Russia was committed, and they had to proceed. Ulanov looked away from the game within a game that had just occurred between the two superpowers and addressed the full committee. “My American friend’s words notwithstanding, this information is highly relevant to the committee’s work. It speaks directly to the 1540 mission—which is to stop rogue nations from willfully delivering nuclear technology into the hands of non-state actors.
“As you will see as you look through the contents of the envelope,” Ulanov continued, “I have presented clear evidence to the committee. The envelope contains satellite and other scientific evidence that clearly shows Israel recently launched a nuclear first strike against Iran. It is the first use of nuclear weapons in a Middle East conflict, and it is unacceptable. It shows that at least one IAF fighter used tactical nuclear weapons against Iran facilities—using American technology.”
There was an audible gasp from some of the observers gathered at the outer table. King raised his hand again but did not wait to
be recognized. “I will say again,” he said, his voice rising above the buzz growing in the cavernous room, “that this is not the proper place for this discussion. The 1540 committee is designed to keep technology out of the hands of terrorist groups—not to discuss military options by sovereign nations.”
Ulanov shook his head. “No, my American friend is wrong—and for this reason. By using nuclear weapons in a first strike against Iran, Israel has done the unthinkable. They have changed the playing field. They have now made it acceptable for others—especially the non-state actors and terrorist groups we often discuss here—to quickly seek to retaliate. It has escalated the stakes substantially, and that makes this a matter for the 1540 Committee.”
Peter King pursed his lips. He had clear marching orders—delivered by phone from Dr. Gould at the White House just minutes before this committee had convened—to forcefully push this information off the agenda of the 1540 Committee as quickly as he could. Dr. Gould had been quite clear—get this issue moved to the full Security Council as quickly as possible.
But he also knew that Russia had already succeeded with at least one strategic objective. Israel’s calculated decision to use tactical nuclear weapons to penetrate deep underground into the hardened bunkers to destroy Iran’s covert centrifuges was now an open issue—and would be known to the world shortly. The debate would now quickly shift toward universal condemnation of Israel. It was inevitable. World opinion worked this way, King knew.
“It is not a matter for this committee,” King said. “Israel is not a non-state actor. It is not a terrorist organization. This committee is not commissioned to deal with military actions taken by sovereign nations in defense of their own national interests. The 1540 has one clear, unambiguous mission, which is to do everything we can to keep technology from being transferred to terrorist groups. If the Russian Federation wishes to raise this, it needs to come before the Security Council. So I would ask the chair to refer this matter to the Security Council—which is where it belongs.”