Peace

by Jeff Nesbit

  Instead, nearly every member of the crew of the North Korean freighter came on deck as the ship began to slow and come to a halt. They all watched impassively as the American destroyer pulled alongside, casting an enormous shadow over the much smaller North Korean ship.

  The American destroyer’s captain, Samuel Bingham, decided that he had no choice but to call out to the Kang Nam. Standing off to one side on the bridge, flanked by his second-in-command, Bingham pressed the call button on the ship’s broadcast handset. “This is the captain of the USS John McCain,” he said calmly, his voice reverberating loudly from the deck toward the Kang Nam. “We believe that you are carrying illegal material, and we are invoking UN Resolution 1874. We request permission to board your vessel, the Kang Nam, in order to search your hold.”

  Bingham waited for a minute or so. There was no visible response from the crew members of the Kang Nam 5. Many of them began to lean against parts of the ship, waiting for what might happen next. They didn’t appear tense. If anything, they appeared resigned to whatever was about to happen.

  Bingham had his orders as well. He was to insist that the Kang Nam agree to be boarded. If it refused, or did not respond, then he was to shadow the Kang Nam to its next port of call and ask the government there to allow it to be searched.

  “I repeat, this is the USS John McCain,” Bingham said loudly. “Under UN Resolution 1874, we demand the right to board and search your ship.”

  Still no response from the North Koreans.

  Bingham turned to his second-in-command. “Now what?”

  “We can wait,” his second-in-command answered. “It’s not like they’re going to outrun us.” The others on the bridge laughed. They all turned their gaze back to the Kang Nam.

  There was no visible response from the Kang Nam. An instant later, however, there was a loud belch as the North Korean ship captain fired up the engines. The Kang Nam began to pull away from the American destroyer, almost in slow motion. The crew aboard the USS John McCain waited for orders from their captain.

  Captain Bingham considered, for just a moment, how easy it would be to fire on the Kang Nam, force it to stop, and then board the ship. But he couldn’t do that. That sort of confrontation would, without a doubt, trigger an immediate military response from North Korea—something both the White House and the joint chiefs had told him to avoid.

  Bingham gave the command to his crew. They would shadow the Kang Nam at a safe distance, to its next port of call. Once there, they would make the formal request of the port’s government to board the ship.

  But one thing was now quite certain. The United States had confronted North Korea in international waters for its role in Iran’s attack against the 5th Fleet near the Strait. The United States had sent an unmistakable signal to North Korea—and to the world—that it meant to respond to the nuclear attack against the Abe.

  What came next, though, would be much, much more difficult. For, as both ship’s captains knew, Kang Nam was headed toward the Strait of Hormuz, and for the port of Bandar Abbas in Iran.

  42

  TOKYO, JAPAN

  Ethan Lee almost placed another call to his son but then thought better of it. He would need to work his way through, over, and around several diplomatic hurdles on his own first before he could ask his son to engage in back-channel discussions with Iran’s opposition leaders.

  Lee was deeply troubled—and not just because of the uncertainty that had literally exploded overnight in Israel, Iran, and North Korea. No, the longtime U.S. ambassador to Japan was worried that Japan’s new prime minister, Naoto Tanaka, had gone around the bend and was, even now, throwing his country’s lot in with China.

  Ever since Tanaka had swept into power—removing the Liberal Democratic Party from leadership in Japan for the first time in decades—the rumors had swirled that Tanaka was moving Japan away from its historic, post–World War II security alliance with the United States and into a dangerous orbit with China.

  What was most unusual about all of this was that Tanaka was a deep product of the American educational system. He’d received his Ph.D. in engineering from Stanford, one of America’s most prestigious academic institutions. He’d met his wife at Stanford. So he knew, and appreciated, the United States—which made his deliberate move away from U.S. influence all the more curious.

  Lee understood why Tanaka was moving in this new direction. The Japanese people had thrown the LDP out of power in Japan in a massive reform effort. Tanaka had no choice, in some respects, but to honor that reform tsunami. Moving away from its long dependence on the United States for security was a natural extension of that reform movement.

  But moving directly into China’s orbit was another matter entirely. It made Lee wonder if Tanaka hadn’t lost his way as he struggled to master the world political stage.

  Lee could see that Japan was moving inexorably into a permanent security relationship with China, which would make everything infinitely more complicated in the world. Japan was the foundation for the U.S. military presence in the East. If Japan moved toward independence from the U.S.—and into China’s arms—it would make matters very complicated for the U.S.

  Japan, under Tanaka’s direct leadership, had hedged and almost denied U.S. military relocations in Japan. They had ended joint funding for certain projects. When the U.S. denied immediate foreign exports of its F-35 fighter to Japan, Tanaka had turned to China for its J-10. Tanaka had then met with the IRGC in Iran.

  Tanaka was playing a dangerous game with both China and Iran.

  But now Lee had very specific information that Japan was about to cross a diplomatic line that would make it extraordinarily difficult to retreat from. Career diplomatic staff in Japan had provided him with the draft of a major new speech that Tanaka planned to give at an international conference soon. In it, Tanaka made clear that they were initiating a major diplomatic and policy shift—away from its historic reliance on the United States and toward an independent foreign and military policy.

  Lee knew the speech would send shock waves around the diplomatic world. The timing was atrocious. Lee would need to move quickly to see if anything could be done to delay the speech, at least until things had settled some in North Korea and the Middle East. But Tanaka was an exceedingly smart man and not easily persuaded to move off a position once he’d settled on a course.

  Lee had discussed it briefly with his son, if only because it was a safe harbor for some feedback. Nash had encouraged him to move quickly and bring the information to the attention of the president. It was that decision he was now wrestling with. But, he knew, he would need to move quickly, one way or another. Events were unfolding rapidly, in many directions.

  43

  JERUSALEM, ISRAEL

  With everything happening in the world, Judah Navon knew that it was an odd time to focus on a press conference and the release of a scientific report. But this was no ordinary report, and the timing was now even more critical.

  Navon needed this information available to Israeli citizens, and he needed it yesterday. Armed with the information from the definitive scientific report, Navon could safely address the most difficult issue at the heart of any future settlement of Palestine and the partitioning of Jerusalem—the fate of the most sacred site to Islam, the Dome of the Rock. He couldn’t do this, though, if his back was against the wall.

  Navon had not yet decided whether to take seriously the radical peace plan that his deputy chief at Mossad had presented to him—the plan essentially drawn up by President Camara’s chief of staff, Anshel Gould.

  Navon did not question Anshel Gould’s motives. After all, he’d been an IDF volunteer once, and he’d always been a staunch friend of Israel. Still, it was an extraordinarily radical plan, one that might very well create rioting in the streets if the Israeli leadership indicated that they were taking it seriously.

  But Navon always wanted options, and that was especially critical now. All of Israel’s enemies appeared to be converging
on the small nation at the same time, and he needed every possible scenario in front of him as events unfolded. If the situation got desperately out of hand, and Israel was forced to negotiate some sort of peace for its survival, he wanted to know what was possible.

  A prominent Israeli architect had been funding his own studies of the location of the First and Second Jewish Temples. Using crude infrared, ground-penetrating radar and other methods, this architect had been able to show with some precision that the land south of the Dome of the Rock was a much more likely location for the ancient Jewish temples.

  Over the years, others had begun to learn of this architect’s various and studied approaches to the question. He’d built up a small but loyal following within conservative Jewish circles.

  The Knesset finally decided to see if this architect’s theories did, in fact, have any merit. It had commissioned a series of studies—managed by a consortium of research universities—to explore the theory from an historical, architectural, geophysical, and archaeological basis. The studies also took a serious look at the ground south of the Dome of the Rock to see if, in fact, there was any evidence of past buildings in the rubble and trees that lay between the Dome of the Rock and the Al Aqsa mosque.

  The studies had been highly secretive, and only a few had been given updates as the science proceeded. But, within two years of the beginning of the studies, all of the science converged on one inescapable conclusion. The First and Second Temples had, in fact, been on the ground south of the Dome of the Rock.

  The various principal investigators, researchers, and study authors were going to publish a series of papers in leading peer-reviewed journals, but Navon had convinced them to release some of their findings at a press conference.

  Their findings showed that the Moriah area was not the Temple Mount built by Herod. A later Roman temple had been built on the Moriah area by Hadrian, confusing things. The Al Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock were built upon the remains of that Roman temple. And remains of the original Jewish temples were actually covered now by debris and dirt between the Dome and the Al Aqsa mosque in the area of Al Kas fountain.

  What’s more, it appeared that the Western Wall—once known as the Wailing Wall—was never part of the Second Temple complex. The Western Wall most likely was a wall remaining from the Roman temple of Jupiter built by Hadrian—not from the retaining wall surrounding the Second Jewish Temple, as many believed. And, based on another temple of Jupiter discovered in Lebanon and some commentary from the fourth century, some believed that the Holy of Holies from that Second Jewish Temple had been covered by a statue of the Roman emperor Hadrian after the destruction of the Temple in AD 70 by the Romans and is now directly below a fountain named El Kas in that area.

  While not definitive, the research was impeccable. The politics of whether a third temple could ever be built, of course, would be as intense as anything since the Second World War. But knowing the proper location would, at least, give Navon a chance to propose a partition location for the most sacred ground on the planet if that should ever be necessary.

  And, right now, Navon was happy for small victories.

  44

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  WASHINGTON, DC

  She was nervous. It wasn’t the person in the office. It was the actual office itself.

  Susan Wright had been to many spectacular functions, in many wonderful and ornate places. She’d met privately with the Dalai Lama in the private office of the president of Harvard, where they’d talked of a guided trip through the foothills of the Himalayas. Nelson Mandela had once invited her to breakfast at a café in Johannesburg during an international conference. She’d met more than a dozen well-known international leaders privately at meetings of the Council on Foreign Relations.

  It didn’t matter. She was still nervous. It was the Oval Office, a place she’d only seen in photos, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she’d be able to keep her composure during the meeting with the president and his chief of staff. She tried to remind herself that no person—and no office—deserved to be revered on earth. It didn’t help.

  She’d arrived in Washington and had quickly immersed herself in her job—so quickly that she’d never managed to make the customary rounds of the West Wing to meet everyone in their quarters. The president’s national security advisor handled all the big meetings in the Oval Office. Susan kept the home fires burning and ran the staff meetings in another part of the White House complex. That had always been her nature—to shy away from the limelight, keep her head down, and get jobs done.

  She’d met President Camara, of course—but not in the Oval Office. She’d been in several meetings with him in the Situation Room recently, and she’d been in a couple of meetings with big groups in the East Room. But meetings in the Oval Office with the president were reserved for top aides and for small meetings. This was her first trip there—courtesy of the unusual call with Zhubin.

  Anshel Gould had called her shortly after the call, asking for a quick summary. He’d listened quietly as she recounted the story—and Zhubin’s closing threat. He’d seen the NSA transcript, of course. But it was obvious he’d wanted to hear the story directly from her. When she’d finished, he’d asked her politely if she could repeat the conversation with the president.

  The call with Zhubin was still reverberating in her mind as she made her way quickly through the halls of the West Wing. She glanced down at her lapel to make sure that her hard pin was still in place. It was. She checked the collar on her jacket to make sure it wasn’t sticking up. It wasn’t. She glanced in a mirror as she turned a corner to make sure that she hadn’t smeared mascara as she’d rubbed her eyes from a lack of sleep. She hadn’t.

  She paused briefly in the foyer near the Oval Office and chatted quietly with one of the president’s three secretaries. The side door to the office opened an instant later, and Anshel waved her in. Susan excused herself from the idle conversation with the secretary and followed Anshel into the room.

  Susan was struck immediately by how clean and immaculate the office was. There wasn’t a single thing out of place. Every chair, every table, and every lamp seemed to own a rightful place in the office. The floor was polished. The carpet looked as if it had been hand-brushed. The windows didn’t appear to have a smudge or a blemish.

  The president’s desk was every bit as immaculate as the office itself. There was just a phone to one side, and an inbox. The inbox was empty. Of course, Susan had heard all the stories—how the president preferred to wander the corridors of the White House complex, seeking out meetings and quiet places where he could steal a quick smoke. She’d heard that his own, private office wasn’t nearly as neat and tidy as the Oval Office. But, still, the orderliness of it all surprised her.

  President Camara stood off to the side, gazing out one of the windows, clearly lost in thought.

  Susan and Anshel waited a moment. “Mr. President,” Anshel said softly.

  The president turned and fixed his eyes on Susan. She felt a brief panic. But, as she’d done her entire life, she quickly cleared her mind and focused on the immediate task at hand. There would be time, later, to reflect on what all of this meant. She had a mission and a duty to convey the nature of Zhubin’s threat to the president.

  “Please,” the president said, “have a seat.”

  Anshel took a seat on one couch and motioned for Susan to take a seat on the opposite side. The president settled comfortably into a chair at the apex of the two couches, where he could look at both of them as they talked. Susan imagined that he’d done this sort of thing many times in this office.

  Susan leaned on the couch’s armrest briefly, then thought better of it. Pulling her notebook to her lap, she folded her arms over it and looked directly at the president, waiting.

  “As you know, Mr. President, Dr. Wright received a call from General Zhubin,” Anshel said. “I’ve had a chance to discuss the call with her, and I felt you needed to hear about it from her di
rectly.”

  Camara looked over at Susan. “I’ve read the transcript. I thought you handled yourself quite well. You were polite but firm. I especially liked the way you moved him off his ridiculous claim to some sort of great victory.”

  Susan pursed her lips. She didn’t take compliments well. “Thank you, Mr. President. I’m not entirely sure it was the right thing—taking the call, I mean. Perhaps I should have referred them to State once I knew about the nature of the call…”

  “It was the right thing to do,” Camara said quickly. “It’s immensely helpful to know what people are thinking. I mean, truly thinking, not what their intermediaries put forward. I think you heard some of Iran’s core intentions. And, believe me, that is extremely important right now.”

  Camara cast a glance in Dr. Gould’s direction.

  Susan had read all the intelligence briefings. She knew the scenarios the White House and the joint chiefs were dealing with, including the recent confrontation with the Kang Nam south of Burma and Russia’s bombshell at the UN Security Council meeting.

  “Yes, you did the right thing,” Anshel said to Susan. “We’re glad you opened up a dialogue with General Zhubin. As you know, we’ve struggled to engage with them directly.”

  Susan nodded. “Shahidi isn’t an easy man to reach, or read. I’ve heard that they make even Rowan travel to Tehran if he wants to meet with Shahidi.”

  “That’s true,” Camara said. “All roads lead to Tehran. Shahidi hasn’t traveled outside the country for years. And very few from outside his inner circle meet with him. We’ve been trying for years to set up a face-to-face meeting, with almost no success at all.”

  “So hearing from Zhubin directly helps,” Anshel said. “He has Shahidi’s ear and is as close to a proxy as we can find.”