Peace

by Jeff Nesbit

  47

  EAST OF RIYADH

  SAUDI ARABIA

  The J-10 worked its way quickly and efficiently through the Saudi airspace. The pilot knew the lousy Saudi Arabian air force would scramble shortly, but he wasn’t worried. The J-10 was quite a plane. He felt honored to be one of the few in Iran’s air force to be given access to their newest fighter.

  Iran had paid $1 billion for twenty-four of the J-10s from China, which had immediately and publicly denied the sale. But the Russians, who had seen several of the early prototypes, confirmed the sale privately to NATO sources. What’s more, the Russians confirmed that the earliest prototypes in China came directly from Israeli defense firms trying to salvage work they’d lost when Israel cancelled the Lavi project. China denied that the J-10 was built from the cancelled IAF Lavi, but Russian engineers had seen the prototypes themselves.

  The irony that the J-10 he was now flying was built from a cancelled IAF Lavi prototype was completely lost on the pilot. He had no interest in the J-10’s unusual history. All he knew was that the plane was nearly as good as the American-built F-16s that Israel now flew.

  China’s Chengdu Aircraft Design Institute had been working on the J-10 for almost thirty years, but it hadn’t admitted publicly that it flew the planes until just a couple of years ago. Again, the Iranian pilot didn’t care. All he cared about was that it could outrun the Saudis and drop its payload at will on the East-West pipeline in the dead of night.

  The J-10 pilot kept up a constant chatter with the other twenty-three pilots en route. For reasons he didn’t understand, they were told to talk it up as they raced in and out of Saudi Arabia. Apparently the IRGC command wanted the entire world to know what they were doing.

  So the J-10 pilots talked. And they learned—that Iran had struck various points in and around the city of Doha in Qatar through the night. As they were laying bombs along the East-West pipeline, rendering it inoperable for weeks and perhaps months, the J-10 pilots learned that Iran had effectively entered Qatar and was now making very loud noises that it would annex the small country if the 5th Fleet did not retreat from the Strait of Hormuz.

  It was a shock to the pilots. They understood what they were doing here along the East-West pipeline. That made some sense to them.

  But Qatar? Why would the IRGC and the Supreme Leader enter Qatar? There must be some point they were trying to make, because it surely made no sense to take on another front in an ever-growing war with the Americans and the Israelis.

  As the last of the J-10 pilots dropped their payloads and turned to head home, they all heard the next piece of news. A midsize oil tanker flying under a Dutch flag—carrying oil from the Saudi fields out to sea through the Strait—had hit the first of the MDM-6 mines Iran’s navy had secretly, quickly, and efficiently placed through strategic points.

  The pilots learned, through quick chatter, that the world news media was reporting that the tanker had sunk almost immediately, spilling vast amounts of oil into the shallow waters of the Strait. The pilots had all cheered as one. Iran was succeeding, across the board, on this night.

  By morning, the pilots learned that both the American 5th Fleet and the British Royal Navy had stopped their steady march into the Strait. Iran had succeeded—for now—in closing the Strait to oil traffic. It would take time to reopen it. A huge force of minesweepers was, even now, massing in the deeper waters of the Indian Ocean, planning for its entry.

  The J-10 pilots didn’t care how long that minesweeping effort might be. They simply knew that their mission that night—and the missions carried out by their counterparts in other parts of the IRGC and Iranian navy—had been successful beyond their wildest dreams.

  48

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  The crude oil traders were beside themselves as the news crashed over them like a tsunami in the early morning hours.

  Royal Dutch Shell reported the sinking of the mid-sized tanker in the Strait of Hormuz. That was followed in quick succession by the news that Iran had sent forces into Qatar, and then the news that the backup East-West pipeline through Saudi Arabia was now inoperable due to the J-10 bombing runs.

  In the first hour alone on the ICE Futures Europe Exchange, oil prices had tripled. Crude oil was now trading at more than $200 a barrel. Bloomberg and Reuters were reporting that the steady march upwards in the price of crude would likely exceed that once electronic trading opened on the New York Mercantile Exchange in a few hours.

  Iran had clearly made its point—and emphatically. Not only had it closed the Strait, for a time at least, but it had taken the fight to places not expected by the Americans. It had cast an enormous pall of uncertainty over the global economy in the blink of an eye.

  Had Iran simply placed mines in the Strait as retaliation to Israel’s military action, the oil traders might not have reacted quite so precipitously. They were used to threats to isolated pipelines. They’d grown accustomed to wars and rumors of wars.

  But Iran’s actions against another sovereign oil nation, and its brazen action against a major pipeline in Saudi Arabia, had created chaos unmatched in the history of the Middle East cauldron.

  The White House had issued a statement at midnight East Coast time, as Iran’s military intentions became clear. Washington was clearly trying to restore calm to the markets with an immediate pledge to use its own oil reserves to reduce its short-term need for oil from the Middle East region. Britain, Germany, Russia, and France followed suit shortly, pledging to use their own domestic reserves as the crisis unfolded.

  Meanwhile, OPEC’s oil ministers had already scheduled an emergency session by phone for midmorning London time. OPEC had signaled, even before trading began, that it would substantially ramp up production in every part of the world not affected by the conflict in the Strait.

  None of it worked. Crude oil prices had moved up in a steady march. They showed no promise of retreating any time soon. The oil price shock would almost instantly affect every sector of the global economy.

  The only relative good news in the midst of the oil chaos was that Iraq had reopened its northern export pipeline to Turkey, which had been closed following recent terrorist explosions.

  The pipeline, which connected the Ceyhan oil export terminal, carried a quarter of Iraq’s oil exports. As long as it remained open, and oil-producing regions beyond OPEC remained stable, then the global economy would not go into a free fall.

  But even OPEC’s oil ministers—accustomed to dealing with terrorism, civil wars, border wars, economic sabotage, and high-level government deceit—were singularly unprepared for the shock that Iran had just delivered to the world economic system.

  The OPEC ministers only had so many tools in their economic toolkit. To some, the spike in prices would be a short-term boon to their economies. But they all knew that sky-high prices would quickly destabilize an economy that ran on oil.

  Even the hardest cynics hoped the Americans could figure a way, quickly, to open the Strait to safe passage of oil tankers, and deal with Iran on terms that would not engulf everyone in a third world war.

  49

  NORTH OF TBILISI, GEORGIA

  The Russian T-90 tanks arrived as a swarming horde. It was almost as if they’d known what was about to happen in other parts of the world—as if someone had anticipated the actions far in advance and had massed at the Russia-Georgia border for just such a moment in time.

  The first of the T-90 tank commanders raced toward the oil pipeline that ran from Baku on the shores of the Caspian Sea to the Mediterranean port of Ceyhan in southern Turkey. They would arrive shortly and begin to take up strategic positions along the pipeline in both Georgia and just across the border in nearby Azerbaijan.

  The pipeline—which ran through Georgia and Azerbaijan, two former Soviet states—was constantly under threats of sabotage. It was the second-longest pipeline in the former Soviet Union states. It was supported by Western interests—but not Russia. It was one of the few alternate r
outes out of the Middle East for oil.

  It had been a thorn in Russia’s side since it had first been proposed and built several years earlier. Speculation had been rampant for years that Russia would use any excuse to go after it and potentially open up a new southern front war with both Georgia and Azerbaijan.

  Andrei Rowan, of course, could not have been more pleased. Virtually every geopolitical action he’d predicted to the Duma leadership had occurred—and presented him with precisely this opportunity and moment. He’d seized it vigorously and without any second thoughts whatsoever.

  Rowan had first consulted with Grigori Ulanov, his UN ambassador, in the early morning hours before notifying the Duma of his intentions. He wanted Ulanov’s assurances that the UN would not, in fact, make any moves toward Russia.

  “Not now,” Ulanov had said.

  “You are certain?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Ulanov had answered. “I have laid the groundwork for weeks that protecting the Baku pipeline is not only in Russia’s sovereign interest, it is in the interest of the rest of the world that will rely on the flow of oil through that while the Strait is closed.”

  “What will Peter King tell the Security Council?”

  “He will be careful. He cannot afford to challenge us too much. The U.S. needs Russia right now, more than usual.”

  “So as long as we don’t deliberately provoke a military confrontation in Georgia, we will be able to act?”

  “Yes, to protect the pipeline.”

  “And if Georgia military units engage?”

  “As long as they act first, we are within our rights to respond,” Ulanov had answered.

  Both he and Rowan knew, of course, that it was almost inevitable that Georgia and Azerbaijan would respond. They could not simply allow T-90 tanks—and the rest of the Russian military—to enter by force without a response of some sort.

  But the sudden conflagration in the Middle East had instantly changed the rules, and the Baku pipeline was precisely the excuse Russia had needed for years to extend its reach south again, toward the Mediterranean.

  In fact, it was not out of the question for Russia to consider extending its military protection all the way to Ceyhan, just a stone’s throw from Israel. Ulanov had already made it clear to the UN Security Council staff that Russia would volunteer to spearhead peacekeeping forces throughout Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Turkey in order to protect the Baku pipeline.

  Rowan had finished the secure call with Ulanov satisfied that the United Nations would not interfere with his plans. He had called his aide, Nicolai Petrov, and the SVR leadership into his study within the hour.

  “I want everything we have sent forward, toward Tbilisi,” Rowan had told them when they’d gathered. “Get the tanks moving and bring the air cover in as quickly as we can.”

  “Georgia will act first, because we’re moving right at Tbilisi,” Petrov had offered.

  “Let them act,” Rowan had said. “We have prepared for this time. We cannot miss this opportunity.”

  “And when Camara calls you, and asks you to pull our troops back to the Russian border?” Petrov had asked.

  “He can ask,” Rowan had answered, smiling. “I will politely decline. I will point out to him what he already knows from his own national security staff—that it is in the West’s interests to allow Russia to protect the Baku pipeline. With the Strait closed, they will need an alternate route for oil out of Iraq and other countries in the region.”

  “True enough,” Petrov had countered cautiously. “But Georgia and then Azerbaijan will consider it an act of war.”

  “But it is not an act of war,” Rowan had said. “It is an act in our own national, sovereign interest. We must protect the Baku pipeline—now more than ever.”

  “There will be casualties, once shots are fired,” Petrov had said.

  “We’ll move quickly, and decisively,” Rowan had said. “That will limit casualties.”

  “And what of Ceyhan?”

  Rowan had simply smiled. His aide already knew the answer, because they’d discussed the scenario several times in the past week. The dialogue was for the benefit of the SVR leadership that had simply watched the discussion unfold.

  Russia had already pre-deployed both submarines and ships in the Mediterranean at Ceyhan. Ulanov would seek UN permission to have peacekeeping forces in place to protect the terminus of the Baku pipeline in Turkey. The Americans would balk, but Russia would already have troops in place at the western terminus of the Baku pipeline. There would be little the Americans could do at that point.

  Once Russia had troops firmly in control of the pipeline, from Baku to Ceyhan, then it was only a matter of time before circumstances allowed them to pursue Georgia and Azerbaijan.

  Rowan was more determined than ever to correct what he believed was the worst tragedy of the past fifty years—the collapse of the Soviet empire. It was time to begin the process of correcting that horrible wrong. Protecting the Baku pipeline was the first step of many on that path.

  And the fact that it would put Russian troops at Ceyhan, almost a stone’s throw from northern Israel, was something that only a few in the world would worry about. Russia had no immediate interest in Israel. Rowan was interested in the land and states between the Mediterranean and its southern border. The raging wars against Israel were nothing more than a convenient excuse for Russia to extend its reach to the south.

  Rowan’s predictions proved correct. Its military actions had gone as planned. He was able to report to the Duma leadership by late morning that the T-90s and supporting air forces had taken control of key points along the pipeline. Its ships had just as easily moved into Ceyhan, and Russian forces were even now beginning to take up secure positions in southern Turkey under a NATO flag.

  Georgia and Azerbaijan had moved parts of its military forward but not into direct conflict. No shots had been fired. But all sides knew some sort of conflict was inevitable.

  50

  ABOARD THE USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN

  NEAR THE STRAIT OF HORMUZ

  “What’s your recommendation, Captain Smith?”

  It was a double-barreled question. The captain of the USS Abraham Lincoln was between the proverbial rock and a hard place. It was bad enough that they were forced to idle just at the entrance of the Strait of Hormuz, waiting for the minesweeping forces from the British Royal Navy, the 5th Fleet, and various other NATO allies to do their job.

  Now they had a second confrontation coming up on them fast—one that they probably couldn’t avoid. And the second, while much smaller and confined, had much greater potential to trigger an immediate threat to the planet.

  The Kang Nam 5 would arrive at the entrance to the Strait shortly and demand safe passage to Bandar Abbas. The United States had already made it clear that it would take some sort of retaliatory action against North Korea for its part in the successful nuclear strike against the Abe.

  North Korea’s cargo ship would be at the 5th Fleet’s doorstep any moment. Vice Admiral Truxton knew the choices before them were awful. If they chose not to let the Kang Nam 5 pass by, North Korea would take it as an act of war. If they boarded the ship, it would likewise be taken as an act of war, despite the UN resolution granting them the right to stop and seize what was obviously an illegal shipment.

  But if they allowed the Kang Nam to enter the Strait—while the minesweeping operations were still underway—it could also be perceived as an act of aggression, if something should happen to the North Korean ship in the treacherous waters near Bandar Abbas.

  There was no way to guess what the North Koreans might do if their ship was harmed—no matter what caused the damage.

  “Captain Bingham says the Kang Nam has been silent since they first approached it,” Captain Smith answered. “They aren’t likely to stop and ask for permission when they get here. Most likely they’ll simply keep sailing toward Bandar Abbas and challenge us to stop it and board.”

  The captain of the USS Jo
hn McCain, Samuel Bingham, was a topnotch sailor, Truxton knew. He’d done everything by the book so far. But he and his crew had grown increasingly frustrated as they’d shadowed the Kang Nam around the coastline and toward Bandar Abbas. They wanted to act.

  “So do we challenge them?” Truxton asked.

  “I don’t see how we can,” Smith answered. “The McCain already tried that. They didn’t respond and forced our hand. We obviously couldn’t board the ship, so they kept going.”

  Truxton shook his head. “As if we need this right now. With everything else that’s happening, we could do without this confrontation.”

  “No question,” Smith answered. “But we have to do something.”

  “And your recommendation?”

  “That we let the ship pass, at its own risk,” Smith said. “I don’t see any other choice. It’s not going to stop, regardless of what we do.”

  Truxton looked off into the distance. He didn’t tell his captain or crew, but he was doing his best to listen to that still, small voice that never failed to guide him in situations like this. He just needed a little peace and clarity at the moment.

  “No good will come of any action we take,” he said finally. “So we might as well do the right thing. I’m going to instruct the McCain to follow it to Bandar Abbas. We’ll clear the path there with our minesweepers.”

  Captain Smith’s eyes widened. “We’re going to help the Kang Nam through the Strait?”

  “We are, Captain,” Truxton said. “And, God willing, the Kang Nam will make it to port safely without an incident. The last thing we need right now is a serious nuclear threat to go along with the regional threats we’re already facing.”

  51