by Ted Halstead
A growl of approval went around the room. At least the commander had been able to hurt the enemy before his death.
Ali nodded and asked gently, “What makes you think so?”
Hadi gave an exhausted shrug. “I was trying to regain control of my plane after it was hit by shrapnel from a missile explosion. While I was doing that I’m pretty sure I saw an explosion somewhere in that dust cloud.”
Ali frowned. “I’m no pilot, but couldn’t that have been the missile hitting the ground, or some smaller target?”
Hadi shook his head decisively. “No, sir. For me to see it from my distance it had to be a large explosion, and the only thing I think could account for it would be a SAM launcher and some of its missiles.”
Ali nodded. “Do you think there was more than one launcher?”
Hadi looked at him angrily and said, “Give me another plane, sir, because I’d sure like to find out!”
The Crown Prince put a hand on his arm. “I saw what was left of your last plane, Captain. You did well to make it back to report on this new threat.
Now, rest while we decide how best to attack these invaders. I will see to it personally that you get a chance to avenge the commander’s death.”
An approving murmur passed around the table, and Hadi rose unsteadily.
Everyone knew, though, that he would not welcome assistance. The Crown Prince leaned towards the aide seated next to him and whispered, “Make sure he reaches his bunk,” as Hadi made his way to the conference room door.
Once the pilot was gone, the Crown Prince looked around the room. “Now I will tell you what little I know. I sent out those planes in response to a report from the commander at King Khalid Military City, who said he had sent out a patrol with three M1A2 tanks and three APCs last night to investigate a report of armored maneuvers he hadn’t authorized. He got a report back from one tank of an enemy armored force that was cut off before any detail was provided, and has heard nothing since. He wanted authorization to send out his remaining forces in pursuit, but I ordered him to stay put until we can assess the threat.”
The Crown Prince paused. “Make no mistake, we will respond. But we will do so in a way that guarantees victory.” Heads nodded around the table. Only a fool rushed pell-mell into an enemy’s arms.
“The Americans have passed us images collected by one of their drones that show a large force is headed south towards Riyadh. They don’t tell us much more than Captain Al-Joud was able to see with his plane’s instruments. Whoever they are, the enemy has found some way to conceal themselves from both optical and electronic sensors. We have asked the
Americans if they have any idea how this could be done, but have not yet heard back from them,” he concluded.
Ali shook his head. “After this and the nuclear attacks, we must return all the armored forces we just sent to Yemen immediately.”
The Crown Prince nodded. “Yes. I have assumed command of the Air Force, and ordered most of our planes to return to Riyadh from Yemen, excepting only those already pursuing the most promising reports of ballistic missile sightings. I presume you will move our armored forces back by rail from Jaizan?”
Ali shrugged. “Correct. As you know, our C-130s can’t move our M1A2s, and only a single M-113 APC. I wish the Americans would agree to sell us some of their C-5s. Those could take two tanks on each flight.”
Now it was the Crown Prince’s turn to shrug. “Well, yes. But as I’ve told you, so far they haven’t even sold C-5s to their NATO allies. For now, we will just have to make do with transport by train.”
Ali nodded. “I’ll get my men on it immediately.” Then he hesitated. “You said that the Americans have used one of their drones to provide us with images of the invaders. Could they use some of their armed drones to attack them?”
The Crown Prince spread his hands and said, “I have asked. To sum up a long discussion, the Americans are willing in principle to help, but want to know first just who they are attacking. There is also a practical problem.
Their drones use weapons with either infrared or radar guidance. Somehow these invaders can avoid both. Until either we or the Americans can solve this puzzle, I don’t think we can count on much help from them.”
Ali grunted. “Very well. I’m going from here directly to our armor headquarters to prepare an attack on the invaders. Once we put shells into their tanks and capture some prisoners, we should be able to get answers to some of our questions.”
The Crown Prince smiled, but looked worried. “I agree, but keep your eyes open. None of this makes any sense, and we need to understand what the enemy hopes to achieve. Yes, the images from the Americans show a sizable invasion force, but certainly not large enough to make a serious attempt at occupation. We are missing something, and need to understand what that is.”
Ali nodded. “Understood. As soon as we engage the invaders, I’ll report back on what we find personally.”
The Crown Prince nodded. “I would expect nothing less.” Then he paused and added, “Good hunting, Ali.”
A low and approving growl sounded around the table that would have made Colonel Hamid Mazdaki very uncomfortable had he heard it.
Chapter Twenty Two
Route 615, South of Al-Hofuf, Saudi Arabia
Lieutenant Salah Beydoun was in charge of two other highway policemen at the roadblock preventing travel south on Route 615. It wasn’t the first time the route had been closed, because its main purpose was to connect eastern Saudi Arabia with Qatar through the Salwa border crossing.
So drivers had been annoyed, but not particularly surprised, when they were politely told to travel south via Highway 75 instead. If they were driving as far as the United Arab Emirates, that meant having to cut across east on Highway 10. Anyone with a map could see that Route 615 was much shorter.
But Highway 75 and Highway 10 were far superior, both in original construction and subsequent maintenance, and could be safely driven at about double the speed possible on Route 615. Since Route 615’s main purpose had always been to allow travel to and from Qatar, the blockade had meant that the only reason to even keep it open was to make it easier for Saudi tanks and APCs to travel to Salwa to enforce it.
Of course, tank treads weren’t especially good for highways.
So, most drivers had figured out that though longer, Highway 75 and Highway 10 were the best way to get from eastern Saudi Arabia to the UAE.
Thankfully, anyone with enough money to have a car in Saudi Arabia also had a smartphone. That meant word traveled fast to other drivers via several apps that provided updates on traffic conditions. After the roadblock had been up for about an hour, traffic to it had nearly ceased.
However, Salah could see that a car was now coming, and his heart sank as he saw it was a highway patrol car. Since it was a late model car and in excellent condition, Salah also knew it contained a senior officer.
Fortunately, he appeared to be alone.
“Fortunate” because though Salah was indeed a real highway patrol officer, the two men with him were not. Instead, they were fellow Saudi members of
Al-Nadha that Salah had provided with the appropriate uniforms, which had not been difficult for an officer to obtain.
Just beyond the stretch of highway visible from the roadblock, within half an hour two hundred Leopard tanks were going to start refueling from tankers for their final push to Riyadh, after having already traveled one hundred fifty kilometers. And they were going to do it without being detected, as long as Salah could keep this roadblock in place.
“Captain Harbi! Good to see you, sir,” Salah said, with all the enthusiasm he could muster. It wasn’t easy, because Harbi was the last person Salah wanted to see. A stickler for regulations, if he sensed something was up this operation could go wrong very quickly.
“Lieutenant, who ordered you to set up this roadblock? And why don’t I know these men?” Harbi asked, his eyes squinting with obvious suspicion.
“Why, Captain Bad
awi, sir. Didn’t he tell you? And the men were just transferred to us from Dhahran last week,” Salah said, trying to act — but not overact — puzzled. Captain Badawi was Salah’s direct superior, and Salah knew he had the day off. He was also well known for not taking kindly to being called on days off for anything but genuine emergencies.
“No, he didn’t. He didn’t note the order in the duty log, either,” Harbi said flatly.
Salah shrugged. “I’m not surprised, sir. He got a call from Riyadh just before he went off shift last night. Something about an incident in Salwa, and that we needed to keep traffic away from there. So far, it hasn’t been a problem, sir,” Salah said, waving his arm at the empty road in front of them.
“Humph,” Harbi said, obviously unsatisfied, but seeming at least a bit less suspicious. “So, where is your motorcycle? One should be here, according to regulations.”
Harbi was referring to the motorcycle that was supposed to be available to let a patrolman pursue any vehicle that doubled back upon spotting a roadblock ahead. Such a vehicle was presumed to be carrying contraband of some sort.
“Well, sir, since we’re turning everyone back at this roadblock, it seemed like a waste of resources to have a motorcycle here. I can have a patrolman go back to the station to get one, sir,” Salah said, as politely and respectfully as he could.
Harbi was silent for a moment, and Salah was beginning to worry that he’d laid it on a bit too thick. Then he startled Salah by clapping him on the shoulder and exclaiming, “Good thinking, Lieutenant! I wish more young officers thought about avoiding waste.”
After another look around at the roadblock, the three highway patrolmen and the empty road, Harbi was evidently satisfied. To Salah’s immense relief, Harbi turned and began to walk back to his patrol car.
As he did, Harbi pulled out his cell phone and said over his shoulder, “In fact, Lieutenant, I’m going to call Captain Badawi and tell him what a good job you’re doing. Officers shouldn’t only hear about their men when they’ve made a mistake.”
Salah leaned down over Captain Harbi and checked to make sure he was really dead. Satisfied, he holstered his pistol. Salah wasn’t sorry to have been forced to kill him, but was concerned that at some point soon Harbi’s absence would be noted.
With the help of one of the other men, Salah got Harbi’s body and his car out of sight of the road, which remained blissfully empty.
Minutes later, Saleh could see an armored personnel carrier moving north towards them. By the time it arrived, Salah and his men had moved the roadblock aside. Two other APCs pulled up right behind it, as well as a Leopard tank.
The top hatch on the Leopard opened, and an officer looked at the three men in highway patrol uniforms, finally focusing on Salah. “Your name?” he asked flatly, and with an accent that said “Qatari” to Salah. Of course, so did the insignia on all of the vehicles.
“Salah Beydoun,” he answered. The officer nodded and asked, “You are all Saudis?”
Confused, Salah simply nodded.
“Good. You all have vehicles?” the officer asked.
Until Captain Harbi’s arrival, the answer would have been, “No.” Now, though, Salah could say, “Yes.”
The officer nodded. “Good. The vehicles all have outside speakers?”
Now Salah could see where this was headed. Did the other men from Al-Nadha? A quick glance told him the answer was yes.
Aloud Salah also said, “Yes.”
The officer said calmly, “You need to drive well ahead of us, and tell anyone you find on the highway that they need to exit immediately for their safety. This will clear the way for the force which will be arriving shortly.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed. “What you will tell them also has the virtue of being absolutely true.”
Looking at the officer and his Leopard tank, Salah had no doubt of that.
Armored Force Headquarters, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Army Commander Prince Ali bin Sultan was surprised to see the Crown Prince at the Armored Force Headquarters. He had just climbed out of the M1A2 tank he’d been inspecting, and had planned to be underway within half an hour. Ali was about to tell him so, when the Crown Prince shook his head.
“We need to talk,” the Crown Prince said. Ali shrugged and pointed to the nearest door. In a few moments, they were seated in an empty briefing room, surrounded by maps of the area where the invaders had last been sighted.
“The train station at Jaizan has just been bombed. It cannot be used to bring back our tanks by rail,” the Crown Prince said.
Ali slapped his knee in frustration. “We just finished building that line!
There’s no other station with the equipment needed to load M1A2 tanks between there and Jeddah. We’re going to have to drive those tanks all the way back here!”
The Crown Prince nodded. “Yes. I have already ordered police to close the highways between Jaizan and Riyadh to civilian traffic and clear all vehicles already on those roads. This will take time, but will still be faster than having the tanks come back cross-country.”
Ali shrugged. “Yes. Not to mention that they’ll get here in better shape.
But we’ll need every fuel tanker we can get our hands on, and some of those tanks are going to need work before we can put them into combat. The trip is over eleven hundred kilometers long.”
The Crown Prince nodded. “True. That brings me to even more serious news. We have reports that the Qataris have crossed our border with their Leopard tanks, as well as support forces. They appear to be headed north to Riyadh.”
Now Ali simply stared at the Crown Prince in astonishment. “Leopards?
How many?”
The Crown Prince shrugged. “It looks like all they have. About two hundred.”
Ali shook his head. “And where are they now?”
The Crown Prince frowned. “The latest report puts them on Route 522, which means they’re already past Al-Hofuf. The invaders to the north are going cross-country, probably because using a highway would make them easier to locate and target.”
The Crown Prince paused. “The only good news is that whatever the northern invaders are using to mask themselves, the Qataris don’t have it.
That’s probably why the Qataris decided to go straight down our highways. It means they are the more immediate threat.”
Ali frowned. “Why are you here delivering this news in person? Why are our intelligence people not briefing me and my officers instead?”
The Crown Prince nodded. “I understand your confusion. You are an officer, and so think first of military necessity. I must think of political necessities as well. If news of two invading forces becomes known throughout the Kingdom before we have a victory to report, we face panic and uncontrolled mass evacuation at best. Those cars will slow your tanks’ return to Riyadh, and interfere with the movement of the tanks you have in Riyadh to the battlefield.”
Ali looked at the Crown Prince bleakly. “And at worst we could face rebellion.”
The Crown Prince shrugged. “I don’t think it would happen right away.
But yes, if the invaders make it to Riyadh, our legitimacy as a ruling family would be questioned. And frankly, I can’t say I’d blame anyone who did.”
Then the Crown Prince looked at Ali directly. “But we’re not going to let that happen, are we?”
Ali gave him a grim smile in response. “No, we’re not.” Then he paused.
“If the Qataris don’t have the ability to mask themselves, can we get the Americans to attack them?”
The Crown Prince shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve asked their President, and he’s talking with his generals now. Since they lost their bases in Qatar and Bahrain, anything the Americans send will be coming from some distance.
I’ll let you know if the Americans are able to attack before you reach the Qatari force.”
Ali nodded. “Well, at least now we know this is a real attempt to overthrow us. I still don’t think we know who’s reall
y behind it, though. Certainly not the Qataris.”
The Crown Prince shook his head. “No, they’re just a tool. Whoever sent the northern invasion force is running this show. The obvious candidate is
Iran, but if it's them why not use their ballistic missiles and air force?”
Ali stood up. “If I’m going to stop the Qataris in time to find out who that is for sure, I have to get moving.”
The Crown Prince stood up as well, and together they hurried out of the headquarters building.
Qom, Iran
Colonel Arif Shahin had been skeptical when Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Vahid Turani had told him he believed Acting Supreme Leader Reza Fagheh would imprison him and the rest of the Assembly of Experts as part of his plan to take permanent control of Iran’s government. After all, he’d thought, how could such a drastic step be justified?
Well, it turned out, by the threat of retaliation for a nuclear explosion on the Saudi Gulf coast. The Assembly of Experts Secretariat building was indeed a logical target, and from what he’d learned there had been no real resistance to the Ayatollahs' movement to a “bomb shelter.”
Which is where Arif was headed now, at the head of a platoon of Rakhsh APCs, each holding two crewmen and eight heavily armed soldiers. Two of the APCs had a 12.7 mm machine gun mounted on a rotating turret, while the other two had a 30 mm autocannon.
It was 3 AM, and Arif was confident that most of the men theoretically
“guarding” the Ayatollahs who made up the Assembly of Experts would be fast asleep. As a regular Army officer, he had a low opinion of the professionalism of the Pasdaran. They might have exactly the same APCs and hand weapons, but because of what he saw as their poor training and discipline he would sincerely prefer one of his platoons to four Pasdaran units.
Arif could have used heavier tracked Boragh APCs for this mission, but had picked these wheeled Rakhsh APCs instead precisely because they were used primarily by the Pasdaran. He had sped through two checkpoints on his way to the building where the Ayatollahs were being held without challenge, simply by keeping himself and all of his other men with their regular Army uniforms inside the vehicles and out of sight.