The Saudi-Iranian War

by Ted Halstead

  “Will we be traveling to the port with the devices?” Kazem asked.

  “Absolutely,” Farhad replied with a nod. “We’re not going to take any chances,” he added, as two heavily armed men in plainclothes exited the truck and stood silently in front of Farhad, immediately making him think of soldiers reporting for duty.

  Kazem frowned and leaned towards Farhad. In a near-whisper, he asked

  “Aren’t these fellows a little conspicuous?”

  Farhad grinned and shook his head. “Here at a military base there’s obviously no problem. Even at the port, though we won’t be at a naval base we’ve still made arrangements to secure the pier we’ll be using. That particular pier is one of several getting no recent use, because they were damaged in a storm last year. Ours has been repaired, but is still marked as off-limits. Port security has been told to keep everyone else well away from the piers as a safety measure until repairs are completed. So, I doubt anyone will get close enough to pay attention to us before we’ve gone.”

  Farhad stopped speaking as the last pallet was loaded, and the back of the truck was secured. Then, he nodded towards the truck.

  “I will be your driver for this part of our journey. If you’d like to keep me company up front?” Kazem lifted one eyebrow in response, as they all started walking towards the truck.

  “I had no idea truck driving was among your many talents. Is there a story?” Kazem asked.

  As they entered the front of the truck, immediately followed by the two armed men in the back of the truck’s cab, Farhad shrugged and said, “Nothing especially interesting. This work forces you to acquire many skills.

  Honestly, I’m just hoping that all of them together will be up to this task.”

  With that, Farhad smoothly put the truck into gear and set off. As promised, less than half an hour later they were at a pier festooned with warning signs, as were the two nearest piers. There was no boat at the pier.

  Kazem opened his mouth to speak, but Farhad shook his head. “The British have a term. Wait for it…” Kazem shrugged, and settled back in his seat.

  A few minutes later, Kazem saw a ship was on its way, and realized it must have been tied up at another pier nearby. As it drew near, Kazem became aware of a smell that quickly became overwhelming.

  Kazem muttered an oath that drew a low chuckle from the two men in back.

  Farhad grinned and said, “They grew up here in Bushehr, so they’re used to the smell. We’re using a fishing boat, and this is a traditional model without refrigeration. Even with stem to stern cleaning, I don’t think you’d get rid of the smell. Not, mind you, that I think such a cleaning has ever been attempted.”

  As the fishing boat was tying up at the pier, a forklift began moving down the dock towards them. It turned out that the fishing boat had a hold sized for cargo pallets, so while Farhad and Kazem watched, within minutes both devices had been loaded on board. One of the armed men had boarded to watch the operation from that side, while the other faced outward, carefully eyeing the minimal activity nearby. As Farhad had said, no one came near.

  Once the forklift had gone Farhad and Kazem boarded the boat, along with the second guard. The boat immediately set off, and Kazem resolved to say nothing else about the smell. Obviously, there was nothing to be done about it.

  At Farhad’s suggestion, they were sitting on one of the benches lining the boat’s outer rail. Farhad had pointed out that this had two advantages. First, if he fell victim to sea sickness the railing was nearby so he could avoid making a mess. Second, the sea breeze helped to carry away much of the smell.

  Kazem turned to Farhad and asked, “Are we still on schedule?”

  Farhad nodded. "Yes. As planned, it will be dark by the time we reach our landing point on the Saudi coast. That will not be far from the desalination plant at Ras al Khair. We will offload both devices there, and move both by truck to their targets. You will stay with the device going nearby to Ras al Khair, while I will go down to Jubail.”

  Kazem cocked his head. “Just curious. Why go near Ras al Khair rather than Jubail?”

  “Because there’s a naval air station at Jubail,” Farhad replied, smiling.

  Kazem winced. “Good answer,” he said.

  Farhad clapped Kazem on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. The owners of this boat have paid a certain Saudi naval captain a substantial sum to make sure its unofficial landings aren’t disturbed. Normally the landings are to offload cargo such as alcoholic beverages and other high-value contraband. In fact, it’s such a regular visitor that I think its failure to appear is what would be more likely to attract attention.”

  Kazem knew Farhad was exaggerating in an attempt to reassure him, but he still appreciated the effort.

  “Well,” Kazem said with a smile, “at least I’m going to achieve one goal I had just about given up on.”

  Farhad looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

  Nodding towards the boat’s hold Kazem said, “Well, I’m going to see whether these devices I spent so many years designing and building actually work.”

  30 Kilometers North of Ras al Khair, Saudi Gulf Coast

  The fishing boat slowly scraped its bow onto the beach, and its engine came to a stop. Lights switched on a truck nearby, and for an instant Kazem Shirvani thought they had been discovered by the Saudi authorities. But no commands over a loudspeaker followed, and Kazem quickly realized that loading the weapon on a truck would definitely require light.

  Farhad Mokri grinned at his discomfort, but said nothing.

  The truck slowly backed up until it was next to the boat. Several men emerged who immediately deployed its liftgate, which they brought nearly adjacent to the boat, and then used to walk onto it. One burly bearded man grabbed Farhad and kissed him on both cheeks, saying “Good to see you, my brother.”

  “And you,” Farhad replied, turning to Kazem. “Meet Masud, the leader of the men who will be assisting you with your mission.”

  Kazem nodded politely, and extended his hand. Masud ignored it with a laugh, and gave him the same treatment he’d just bestowed on Farhad. “A professor!” he said laughing. “I’m sure you can teach us some lessons.”

  Farhad grinned back at him. “Well, he’s the one who designed and built these, so maybe he can.”

  Masud‘s men had been busy helping the boat’s crew use a rope and pulley attached to the side of the hold to retrieve the pallet holding the first weapon, and at that moment it came into view.

  Masud looked at the weapon and said thoughtfully, “Yes, maybe so.”

  Within minutes the first pallet had been retrieved and placed in the truck, which then drove a short distance up the beach and shut off its engine and lights. Another truck then started up, and repeated the procedure with the second pallet. Less than half an hour after the boat’s arrival, the trucks were ready to go.

  Farhad turned to Kazem and said, “Well, uncle, this is where I have to say goodbye. We have been doing reconnaissance at both plants for the last several days, and have seen no increase in security. As long as that’s still true today, you should have time to make it back to this boat. They will pretend to be fixing the boat’s engine until they see the signal, and know you'll soon be returning.”

  Kazem frowned. “What signal?”

  Farhad just grinned.

  Kazem shook his head and sighed. “Still a joker, just like you were as a child. The big, mushroom cloud shaped signal, right?”

  Farhad nodded, but then stopped smiling. “Seriously, it is up to you whether to proceed or not depending on what you find when you get to the plant. Masud knows that you are going to decide whether or not to attach the final component, and that call is entirely yours.”

  Masud shrugged, saying, “No point in making a big hole in the desert. If we can’t get close enough in time, then we don’t do it.”

  Kazem nodded, and embraced Farhad. “Good luck, nephew.”

  Farhad fiercely hugged him back, and said thickly, “To
us all.”

  Moments later, both trucks were on their way to the targets.

  2 Kilometers North of Ras al Khair, Saudi Gulf Coast

  Masud put down his cell phone and frowned. Kazem Shirvani looked out the truck’s window and could guess the reason. Other trucks’ taillights were ahead in a line that extended as far ahead as he could see in the weak dawn light.

  “I have confirmation that the truck with the other weapon has joined the men and vehicles that will accompany it to the target, and that they are now about as close to the plant at Jubail as we are to this one,” Masud said.

  Kazem nodded. It was important that all three devices detonate as close to simultaneously as possible. Of course, once one exploded, security across the country would be on maximum alert.

  “The truck bomb is some distance ahead of us,” Masud said.

  Good, thought Kazem to himself silently.

  Masud continued, “Men to storm the plant once the gate has been destroyed are several vehicles behind the truck, but still well ahead of us. One problem is that it will now be harder to tell you when to attach the last component to the weapon.”

  Now Masud paused. “The other problem is that if they’re carefully searching every truck, they’ve probably added guards. It may take us some time to get next to the plant.”

  Kazem nodded his understanding, but said nothing.

  Masud frowned and asked, “I know that you’ve said the weapon needs to be adjacent to the plant, but does it really need to be that close?”

  Kazem shrugged, and replied, “If it works exactly as I designed it, no. But it may be only a partial detonation. If so, unless we’re close to the plant it will be damaged, but may be possible to repair. There will also be residual radioactive material from a partial explosion, but that can be cleared with the right equipment and technicians. I’m sure the Saudis can afford to import those.”

  Masud grunted, “Yes, they can afford everything but justice for the Shi’a.”

  Seeing the look that Kazem gave him, Masud said quietly, “My wife and daughter were killed by the Saudis at Al-Awamiyah.”

  Kazem said sincerely, “I am sorry to hear that.”

  Masud shook his head and replied, “You of all people shouldn’t say that.

  You’ve given us our only chance to strike back against the Saudi royal family that oppresses us. When the entire city of Riyadh turns on the taps later today and nothing comes out, then they will feel a little of the fear we live with every day.”

  Kazem nodded. “So, we carry on. I will go to the back and attach the final component.”

  Masud looked him in the eyes. “You are certain? With the security I’m sure is ahead, I see no way to place the weapon and escape in time.”

  Kazem smiled sadly and replied, “I never really thought escaping was a possibility. What I want to see now is for my life’s work to have some meaning. What you’ve just told me has helped me to make up my mind that this is the time, and the place.”

  With that he unbuckled his seat belt and wedged his body between the two seats, before lifting the heavy cloth flap that separated the cab from the truck’s cargo bed. Not a brilliant design, he thought, but it will do. Climbing over the metal divider while lifting the cloth flap wasn’t easy, and as he made it over he dropped the flap on his head, which made him immediately aware it was covered with mold.

  Rubbing his sleeve vigorously across his face, his eyes watering, Kazem had to resist an impulse to laugh. It had just occurred to him that the respiratory illness he would have normally feared would not have time to be a problem.

  Kazem carefully inserted the final component into the weapon, and was rewarded with a “beep” and the illumination of its countdown clock. The countdown time was based on Kazem’s own calculations. He smiled grimly as he thought he’d never imagined being able to see in person if those calculations had been correct, instead of standing in some distant observation bunker.

  The vehicles of Masud’s attack force ground slowly forward, while the countdown clock appeared to Kazem to have somehow speeded up. Repeated checks of his watch reassured him that there was nothing wrong with the countdown clock, only with his relative perception of time’s passage.

  Finally, just as Kazem was beginning to think they would never reach their goal, a brilliant flash followed by a thunderous explosion announced that the truck bomb had reached the gate. The surviving and still mobile vehicles that were not part of Masud’s attack force very quickly did their best to get out of the way, and Masud had already given orders to let them go. They were not the target.

  From his position inside the truck bed next to the weapon Kazem could see little, but could hear the rapid fire of machine guns and the intermittent sound of pistol fire that seemed to go on for hours, though his watch insisted only minutes had passed. Then the gunfire began to slacken, and their truck moved past what Kazem could see were the smoking remains of the front gate. The desalination plant filled the front window, but Kazem still wanted to get closer in case of a fizzle.

  Kazem was just about to tell Masud that they had to hurry because they were nearly out of time, when their truck was rocked by a burst of heavy machine fire coming from… behind them. He just had time to look out the back and see military vehicles flying the Saudi flag when he felt a heavy weight fling him to the truck bed, and the truck grind to a halt.

  Kazem could hear the gunfire picking up again, but not for long. Every time he closed his eyes and opened them again the countdown clock display seemed to have jumped backwards. He realized this must be due to drifting in and out of consciousness.

  He looked down and could see he’d been shot, but was surprised not to feel any pain. Shock, he supposed.

  The gunfire stopped altogether, and the cloth flap on the back of the truck bed flew up. Kazem heard shouted commands, but was unable to move, in fact it was becoming harder to breathe. He could hear rather than see one of the soldiers jump onto the truck bed and then he came into view as he ran towards the countdown clock, just as it reached zero.

  Nothing happened.

  After several seconds, Kazem could hear the soldier laughing with relief.

  Then he heard a “click” from inside the weapon’s casing, and smiled.

  Through lips just barely capable of making a sound, Kazem whispered, “Boom.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jubail II Desalination Plant, Saudi Arabia

  Anatoly Grishkov scowled as he looked over the defenses at the desalination plant’s entrance gate, a scowl that deepened as he saw Alexei Vasilyev smile in reaction.

  “If you had any military experience you wouldn’t be smiling! Their preparations are totally inadequate, and these idiots won’t even let us use our own weapons! These are ordinary security guards who probably have no training to speak of, and if they have any guns heavier than pistols I have yet to see them. What part of ‘attack with a nuclear weapon’ did these people fail to understand?”

  Now Vasilyev couldn’t hold back his laughter though, as he knew it would, it made Grishkov even angrier.

  “First, my friend, it is true that we handed over our pistols as soon as we arrived.”

  Now Vasilyev continued in a lower voice. “However, did it not occur to you that I might have withheld a few items in our cars?”

  Grishkov frowned. “But they searched both of our cars…” His voice trailed off as he saw Vasilyev’s smile broaden.

  “But they’re just ordinary security guards.”

  Vasilyev nodded. “Exactly. And it cannot be such a surprise that ordinary security guards fail to take the threat more seriously. Only the commander is Saudi, and he does not believe the danger is real. The guard force is made up of poorly educated expatriates, mostly from Pakistan and the Philippines.

  Once a determined attack begins, it is likely that many will throw down their guns and flee. I doubt they are being paid enough to feel obliged to risk their lives. Besides, if they’ve been treated the way most e
xpatriates are here, I doubt they feel any loyalty to their employers.”

  Grishkov shook his head. “And where are the Saudi military forces we were promised?”

  Vasilyev shrugged. “I am sure they will appear at some point, but we must plan on their arrival being too late to matter. Remember, the nearest large military base here on the coast is naval, and they have little in the way of troops and equipment to assist us against a ground attack. Army bases in the region have had their resources diverted to the war in Yemen, particularly after the recent increase in missile attacks against Riyadh. So, we need to prepare as best we can with what we have.”

  Grishkov nodded glumly. “Very well. And what is that, exactly?”

  Vasilyev smiled. “We were directed to park our cars behind the main building ‘to keep them out of the way.’ Fortunately, with nearly all of the security forces clustered around the front gate, it also means the cars are out of view. While we walk back to them, please give me your tactical assessment.”

  Grishkov shook his head grimly as they began to walk from the gate to their cars. “Since most of the guard force is at the front gate, the most likely course of attack will kill almost all of them. That is a truck bomb that will detonate as soon as it reaches the gate.”

  Vasilyev frowned. “On my previous visits I saw that all of the government ministries in Riyadh had serpentine entrances preventing a vehicle from building up speed on approach. They also had pneumatic bollards raised and lowered from the guard post that physically prevented the approach of an unauthorized vehicle. I saw no such measures here.”

  Grishkov shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Of course the government spares no expense at taking care of itself, and to be fair I’ve read that government ministries in Riyadh have already been attacked. I’m sure this was considered a much less likely target. Our biggest problem is that trucks are coming and going constantly.”

  Vasilyev nodded. “Yes, I heard you suggesting to the guard commander that they close the gate to all traffic, and his refusal. “