by J E Higgins
Qalmini had prepared himself for dissension. “I realize at some marginal level we have found a means to indirectly engage the US with rough alliances; the criminal organizations in Mexico and building Hezbollah networks extensively amongst the Lebanese communities that exist down here in South America. However, in the long run, this accomplishes only minor threats and, at best, agitation that is far disproportional to what they inflict on our regional security in the Gulf. Now several high-ranking figures back home concede that in order to undermine American hegemony abroad, it is necessary to threaten their stability within their own immediate shores.”
By now even Qalmini’s own IRGC colleagues were unsure of where this discussion was leading. They needed more information, which Qalmini patiently provided. “Though insurgency in sizable scales can be effective against smaller countries such as Israel, it does not pose such a threat to a power like the United States. The Americans are a military culture best celebrated in terms of conventional wars and nation-state geographic politics defining their enemies. Therefore, it is necessary to promote a strategy that addresses the situation in that context.”
Confusion all around. One of the military advisors rose to his feet shaking his head. “What context? We have no army over here unless you are talking about taking over a country so we can gain a foothold to threaten the Americans. That is the only way I can see this conversation going.”
“And you would be correct,” Qalmini said calmly. Shock reverberated around the table. Qalmini took a breath, “The only way to create a genuine threat to the Americans is by giving them a threat in the context of a nation-state that resides within their own backyard.”
“I hope you are not suggesting this strategy with the goal of enlisting us,” spoke the man representing Venezuela. “While we are glad to help you economically and diplomatically, what you are asking is something our government can ill afford to engage in. Such provocation would be detrimental.”
“I agree,” the representative from Cuba added. “The strain of the cold war days is still strong in the echelons of our leadership. They would want nothing to do with any military provocation toward the US With a decaying infrastructure and growing hopes of economic development, such a concept would be unrealistic to even consider.”
“Or attain. Yes, I would agree,” Qalmini said again in his cool reserved manner. “That is why we would only ask your quiet cooperation in this matter ─ your blessing, unofficially of course, and your cooperation in certain diplomatic ways to help secure a successful outcome.”
The buildup was going as expected. Confusion gripped the room as the intrigue mounted. Qalmini let it foment a little longer before adding, “Again, as I say, the plan is most audaciously conceived, but one that has been considered the most practical means to accomplish our agenda.”
The room was silent. All eyes were on Qalmini who was now confident he had made his pitch well. “I’m speaking of creating our own proxy nation-state, built from the ground up, beholden to us and can be an indirect threat from us.”
Like a chorus, the men simultaneously gasped then followed with mutterings and shocked commotion. “Please everyone,” Qalmini interrupted, “indulge me if you would.”
The room went quiet as Qalmini raised his hands. “We have already made the case that it is essential we have proxies in the Western Hemisphere. This is vital in order to create the needed atmosphere against the United States and protect our actual allies here as well.”
“What country are you looking at to turn into a proxy nation-state?” asked one of the VEVAK representatives.
“For our purposes, we have chosen the country of Uruguay,” Essouri suddenly interjected leaning over his pages of figures. While Qalmini was the mastermind, it was Essouri who had been his researcher. He was the one who had the sharp, encyclopedic mind and could find all research pertaining to an operation and quote it at will for the right occasions. With a slight nod, Qalmini turned the briefing over to the mouse-like major who checked his notes.
“Uruguay presents a perfect opportunity for this operation. To begin with, it is situated on the Atlantic Coast with a large seaport. Its largest city, Montevideo, is also the capital and chief economic center for the country. With a national population of three plus million people, one-third of the country resides within this city as well.” Essouri straightened up and removed his glasses as he went to address the room. “In other words, gentlemen, if we are looking at this strategically for all the complexities of orchestrating a coup, this location is definitely the most feasible both logistically and militarily. We only need to construct the plan around this city for it to be successful.”
“What also needs to be appreciated is that the current reigning president, Jose Mojica, is readily accessible. He doesn’t take pay for his presidency. He resides on a small farm with virtually no security. I would further add that militarily the country has only a combined service of 15,000 or so, and it is extensively involved in UN peacekeeping missions. This can be both useful and problematic ─ useful in that the military is stretched thin and could be minimized as a threat to our mission, problematic in that they have an officer and NCO corps that has fresh combat experience.”
“This is a good update,” interjected one of the military advisors waving his hand. “But I still see several problems, both politically and militarily. Can we assume anyone in their military could be recruited to undertake this mission? If so, can we assume the military has the ability to even assert control over the country?”
Essouri leaned back in his chair. “Sir, we have deduced from our research that the military is not a feasible option for exactly the concerns you raise. We have no one available who could or would carry out this mission. To answer your other question, we believe that ultimately the probability of getting the necessary military support to effectively assert control is not at all probable.”
Another military advisor cut in. “So that said, your remedy to mitigate this problem is?”
Essouri turned back to his commander who waved his hand reasserting his control of the briefing. “In order to carry out this plan, we would need to build an external force outside the country that will give their loyalty to whomever we establish as the new master of the country. We have already obtained the land, under the cover of sub-contractors, and are building small city-like training areas that resemble the types of building structures encountered in Montevideo. This force will be a compilation of mercenaries and unemployed locals who can be easily recruited with steady paychecks and political bullshit. A chapter out of Mao’s strategy, if you will ─ take a populace disconnected from the outside world, and they have no alternative but to do what you tell them.”
“So, barring the military,” one of the IRGC representatives spoke up, “who do you have in mind to be our future president?”
Qalmini rose from his seat. “Gentlemen, if you please. I will explain my full plan.” He began to move from the table shifting his eyes between the audience and his two aides still seated at the table. “This whole operation will have to be built from the ground up. The person we intend to recruit is a sitting member of one of the larger opposition parties in the country’s Parliament. We have identified him as a rather ambitious politician who has a greater taste for power than ideology and no patience for the traditional practice of rising through the political ranks. The thought of being handed the country without the grueling irritation of getting elected or having to answer to any other political bodies will be quite appealing.”
Qalmini paced around the room. “The reality, gentlemen, is that to be successful in this endeavor, we must write this operation as if it were a play in a theater. We must write the entirety of this story from beginning to end. To ensure that the Americans are deprived of any excuse to intervene militarily, we have to be deceptive, ensuring our hands remain only indirectly involved. To do this, we will work through well-chosen intermediaries to control this operation. We will use no direct assets. We will
not call upon our Hezbollah allies in this region, nor will Quds or any other Iranian military advisors be on the ground. We have pools of professional soldiers not affiliated with us that can handle the training and organization of the force. The coup must look entirely domestic and not at all influenced by us.
“This brings up another complication we will also have to address. Uruguay is a relatively stable society that has not had any significant political upheavals since the 1970s. Elections are held frequently. As stated before, military coups are highly irregular. What would be a viable reason for a coup to occur that would be perceived as logical?” Qalmini paused. “We would have to create one.”
With that comment, Essouri took over the briefing again. “We would have to build a radical element entirely from the ground up. Like the coup plotters, this would have to be made up of the indigenous populace to avoid suspicion of outside interference. Like the camps we discussed, that are being built to train our ‘established’ army, we will establish a group of left-wing radicals. We will indirectly train and resource this group with the purpose of carrying out a terror campaign in the country that infuses hysteria in the country’s right-wing political elements. This group will create the environment for our coup to occur under the guise of establishing law and order and protecting private business owners who will be concerned about the threat of a communist insurgency toward their economy.”
“What makes you think this will not empower the people further to get behind their president and government?” the IRGC representative asked.
Qalmini cleared his throat and retrieved command of the brief. “President Jose Mojica has an interesting history politically. First, he is an outspoken atheist. This is something that does not sit well with the religious elements of the country. What is even more interesting is throughout the turbulent years of the seventies, he was an active member of the famed Tupamaros urban guerrilla movement. He spent several years as a political prisoner for those terrorist activities. When we kick off this insurgency, we intend to raise the suspicion that these terrorists are working at the behest of or, at the very least, with the blessing of the current president. This suspicion should create the alienation and instability we need. This can be done by recruiting the leadership among the disaffected relics who are still seething in dark corners and would jump at the chance to relive their glorious heydays.”
“I assume you already have someone in mind?” asked another military advisor.
“We have,” interjected Rashid al’ Akim, who didn’t wait for his commander to wave him on. Unlike his colleague Essouri, Major Akim was a bear of a man with a large muscular frame and remarkable height. He towered over everyone as he rose to his feet to address the audience. His salt-n-pepper facial hair was bordering between stubble and a full beard. Unlike Essouri, Akim was a field man, an officer in the al’ Quds force who had spent his life, since his teenage years, on the battlefield ─ first as a young recruit in Khomeini’s jihad against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq and later in Lebanon. Lately, he had trained Shiite guerrillas in their war against the American occupation and fought in Syria against the heretic Sunnis trying to depose Assad. Although he saw Qalmini as a brother, it killed him to see his commander outfitted in the ‘soft clothes’ of a bureaucrat, when he knew the Colonel should be in combat fatigues like the soldier he was. Though overjoyed when he was chosen to be part of this operation, being in a room with ‘comfortable’ men did not bode well for the veteran fighter. He was more at home in the rough lands and war zones engaging with insurgents and guerrillas.
Qalmini was well aware of his cohort’s decorum and political skills and stood aside to let the big man speak. “We have found a couple of these ‘left-overs’ that seem right for recruitment into this operation and have a close pulse on true believers who can be brought into this affair. And just so you don’t ask, we will neutralize this threat when the coup kicks off by sending in our own attack teams to eliminate their bases over the border. Since we will have helped set up the safe houses and logistic networks, our coup conspirators will be able to clean up the domestic network.”
Audience expressions had changed from shock and bewilderment to signs of approval. They were beginning to see the viability of the plan.
When he was sure Akim was done, Qalmini said, “Following the takeover of the country, our new president will quickly extend a leaf of friendship to Iran. We will then begin a military partnership starting with advisors and technicians and graduating to military equipment and, hopefully, progressing eventually to missile launching bases. All of these actions will cause panic in Washington because this coup was not officially orchestrated by us and because of the political sentiment in the world. The Americans will be poised to act militarily, but they will have to recognize the threat now posed directly to their homeland.”
Qalmini looked over at the Latin American representatives. “This stage brings me to you. For this to succeed, we will need political legitimacy as well. If your countries are quick to recognize this new government as the legitimate government of Uruguay, this will make it harder for any serious political action to be taken by the Western Powers.”
The Latin Americans nodded approvingly. The Cuban leaned back in his chair. “As long as we don’t play up the left-wing or right-wing politics outside of what is necessary, I cannot see anything wrong with Cuba making a public statement recognizing your man.”
“Neither do we,” the Venezuelan chimed in.
“Good, then it is all settled,” Qalmini said taking his seat.
Chapter 6
It was the same tired lecture she had heard countless times. Contessa Selena de Alvarez sat quietly in the darkened far corner of the sizable lecture hall at Uruguay University. The lecture room was cast in the traditional European design reminiscent of a Roman Colosseum. The lectern was placed in the center at the base of the gradually rising rows of wooden chairs.
At the lecture platform, Professor Raphael Patrica cut a distinguished figure. Seventy-five years of age, the trim, athletic man looked more like he was in his late forties. His neatly groomed crop of silky black hair was combed straight back and lining his rounded face and almost square jaw. Professor Patrica presented a nearly theatrical performance in discussing the Marxist concept of economics.
The Contessa listened quietly, trying to hide her boredom. She had heard such dissertations before, first from her brother Marko during his rebellious teenage years and later when she attended university. At the elite world of her private Spanish college, she would hear the rants from various academics and fellow students espousing the nobility of the laboring class and the evils of the aristocratic elites. As a rule, she considered politics boring and largely pointless. For her, governments and societies succeeded or fell based on the pragmatism or stupidity of their leaders and systems ─ not on philosophies and theories based on fanciful idealism.
It was a stark contradiction watching Professor Patrica deliver his impassioned lecture on the virtues of communism while wearing expensive brown slacks, matching vest and a dark brown sports coat. The classroom, she noticed, was nearly full. The Professor was known to have quite a following among the student body. Many of the class attendees were the expected crowd of spoiled rich kids who, by the look of their greasy hair and punk clothes, were more interested in getting stoned or laid. She did identify a collection of a dozen or more kids who seemed honest believers of the Professor’s words. More than nodding, they diligently took notes, scribbling away in their notebooks and listening intently. The Contessa had noticed true believers at previous lectures delivered by Patrica. This pattern was the proof she required. Raphael Patrica was the man she needed to carry out the first stage of the operation.
After his lecture ended, the Professor entertained several questions from eager students before releasing everyone for the day. Waiting patiently as the students hurried out of the classroom, the Contessa slowly rose to her feet and stepped down the narrow frame of wooden steps.
Quietly slipping into a chair in the front row, she waited patiently as the professor navigated the attention of eager students gathered around him like rock star groupies. Several minutes later the crowd dispersed until there was only one young girl left talking to him. The Contessa took note of the young woman, who possessed unique attributes that intrigued her. Unlike most of the other students who indulged in the latest designer apparel, this girl was dressed in a simple gray T-shirt, a men’s light blue dress shirt, Wrangler blue jeans, and cowboy boots. Her hair was long and tied loosely in a knot behind her head. Her features were not necessarily mestizo ─ the distinctively prevalent ethnic features in most South American countries. Instead, she had a lighter coffee skin tone denoting her Basque ancestry.
The girl had first caught the Contessa’s attention at the beginning of the class. She was one of the small factions who seemed intensely interested in the lecture. She took copious notes and her attention never wavered. Yet she possessed a quiet resolve to analyze the information and draw her own conclusions. She was obviously not one to give into blind obedience. She seemed to assume a strange mixture of a contrasting persona. She carried herself as someone who had obviously been raised in the world of elites. However, her dress and seemingly free-spirited nature gave rise to the assumption she was no stranger to rough living and menial work, nor was she at all afraid of it.
Even now, as the Contessa waited for the conversation to end, she heard the girl calmly discuss the lecture. Her questions were direct and intelligent, her contentions were not the outburst of an arrogant youth but the results of additional study and thought. The conversation finally ended with the girl taking up her brown canvass school bag and ascending the steps toward the exit. The Contessa’s eyes followed her all the way out of the room.