Tehran Decree (21 page)

No Mr. chairman, the answer is a thousand times no,
we can’t pay that sort of money for a doomed president,’ the
chairman turned in Jenkins direction.

‘You said a doomed president sir.’

‘Yes...a doomed president...the DS302 micro homing
device which now resides in his body has a lethal partner. It
contains a built-in, plutonium pellet, it consists of finely
divided plutonium in a ultra-slow release capsule. I estimate
president Garner will be dead in a matter of one to two weeks at
the most.’ All faces at the conference table, most of then clearly
in shock, were once again riveted on the president. The attorney
general broke the silence.

‘But this is a travesty Mr. president, you have
withheld this piece of vital information from the National Security
Council, this is a deliberate act of deception and malice designed
to kill the incumbent president,’ Jenkins smiled sardonically. He
looked around the table -- every pair of eyes projected the same
look -- they formed the collective stare of a ‘guilty of murder’
jury, Jenkins shrugged off the tension.

‘As I pointed out some time ago ladies and gentleman,
this device is classified top secret and as president and
commander-in-chief of the armed forces, I have the right to
withhold certain information on specific weaponry, providing I can
justify the withholding of that information.’ The FBI director
fixed Jenkins with a piercing gaze.

‘Than go ahead Mr. president, justify this apparent
act of bureaucratic homicide.'

‘You must realise that this is a case of not only
just being the president, but also setting a precedent as the
commander in chief by striking while the iron is hot,’ the CIA
director spontaneously chimed in.

‘Well you’ve certainly done that sir...trouble is,
you’ve wiped out president Garner in the process,’ Jenkins
continued unruffled.

‘The incumbent president was about to face trial for
his life at the hands of the Muslin elite...need I point out that
the outcome would inevitably be a guilty one. We can only guess at
the sort of punishment that would have been meted out to president
Garner in front of the whole world. No doubt it would have been
video streamed over the Internet in graphic detail,’ Claudia Lithgo
craned her neck forward directly under Jenkin’s face.

‘And so, you arranged this mandatory act of
euthanasia.’

‘Of course, what else was I supposed to do...allow
the president to be executed over the Internet for all the world to
see? Let them cut his head off like some barbaric medieval act of
butchery? Let’s face it, there is no way they would ever have
returned the president alive at that time,’ Claudia Lithgo looked
knowingly at the FBI director, he nodded
--
there appeared
to be a possible case to answer. Jenkins stood his ground, silently
eyeing his peers, unmoved by their revelations.

‘I know what you are all thinking...this could be a
series of impeachable offences. Go ahead, bring in the devil as
your advocate, but be it on your heads.’

Chapter Forty-two

Sunday would have have been a very welcome respite
for the National Security Council, but it wouldn’t be this Sunday.
Muslim terrorist groups didn’t rest on the Christian Sabbath.
Jenkins had used this to ensure that there would no slacking --
America had dropped the ball far too often in the past. One only
had to go back to the 1940’s and the Japanese Peal Harbour debacle
to see the results of such inaction. And if that wasn’t enough, a
recounting of the many maligned forays of the CIA would more than
drive the point home. America was a great country, but she was
young, and suffered from a severe lack of anthropological
experience on the world stage -- especially in the ways of eastern
countries. She had no big brother to guide her, only her British
and Irish fore bearers, who had their own idiosyncratic ways, which
were not necessarily those of contemporary America. She was a
dynamic country, standing on her own, and had to break new ground
regardless of the consequences.

Misaligned foreign policies had all too often come to
grief; the product of lack of knowledge and home grown corruption.
But one thing was clear to the acting president, regardless of the
skin colour or the language uttered, human nature was the same the
world over.

From now on this would be the basic truism that would
drive US policy forward, and if gut feelings and their subsequent
reaction were the order of the day -- then so be it -- all the
dilly dallying, political correctness, and smug do gooders, would
ultimately achieve nothing.

Jenkins studied the now defunct, outline plan of the
proposed nuclear Drone bombing of Tehran, set out in front of him
on hastily typed sheets -- it now seemed the JDAM-MOAB set up had
smothered the idea at birth.

However, the project was about to be shelved
temporarily, but still kept in readiness, in case NSC changed its
mind over the latest weaponry update. He had turned things over
repeatedly over the last four hours, taking each possible alternate
scenario to its ultimate conclusion. Logically, there would be no
room for error, and yet chance and nature had a horrible way of
twisting finalities. Out of continued frustration, Jenkins suddenly
gestured wildly with both hands, waking every one out of their
Sunday complacency.

‘Bastards...’ he blurted, ‘we’ll send the modified
MAOB to Muscat and drop it on their co-ordinates...we’ll burn the
fuckers to hell!’ the NSC chairman looked up, eyes now wide open,
as if the Devil had just struck him on his balding crown.

‘But sir, president Garner might still be...’Jenkins
cut him off instantly

‘He’s a dead man walking; he will soon be suffering
now from the effects of the plutonium; we would merely be
delivering a finale of mercy. Even if we did manage to retrieve the
president, undoubtedly at great cost, it would take a very
sophisticated surgical operation to remove the plutonium in tact
from his body. We’re talking about trillions of radioactive
metallic atoms, once they percolate the system the victim is
doomed. It takes only a tiny fraction of a gram to completely
destroy the bodies physiology,’ the NSC Chairman irritably pushed
his chair back.

‘Can we get back to the bomb sir, it could be quite
catastrophic on the surrounding population.’

'Collateral damage in times of war Mr.Chairman, we
have no choice, either we put up with the biggest humiliation in
political history of the United States, or we simply annihilate
them.’

He stabbed dramatically at the papers in front of
him.

‘Put this into effect immediately, then let me know
the moment the MAOB is detonated.’

The CIA director suddenly interjected.

‘There’s a new page on the Al Jazeera web site sir,’
The chairman of the joint chiefs manipulated the keys on the
nearest lap top, putting the Arabic Internet news channel on the
large plasma display above the conference table. A page of Arabic
text filled the screen and the chairman scrolled down to reveal an
English translation.

‘
The US President may be returned to America
provided 50 Billion dollars is paid into an account stipulated by
the BIB. If however the Iranian authorities are prepared to
increase this amount the US president will be handed over to
them.’

Jenkins paused and studied the belated message; the
Arab media had obviously somehow got hold of information from some
unknown source.

Sam Williams offered another possible
alternative.

‘We could send in a black opps group sir and call off
the MOAB initiative, we have several groups within striking
distance of Muscat, ’ Jenkins slapped the table hard and growled
back.

‘Don’t pre-empt my instructions...I’m the commander
in chief here -- the plan remains -- we just have to modify it a
little. As soon as we have a fix on the Muscat location of the BIB,
go in with the C130, and drop the JDAM- MOAB on the coordinates,’
the secretary of defence all but fell off his chair in astonishment
as he finally realised Jenkins was deadly serious after all.

‘But sir, we’re dealing with the biggest conventional
bomb ever made...as I’m sure you are aware, this thing will level
all buildings within a 150 yard radius. That may not seem very much
but it is a huge area. Then of course there’s the collateral damage
all over the place, we may well kill thousands of innocent people,’
Jenkins looked hard at the secretary of defence.

‘I just told you Lee to stop making policy, that’s my
job, and I said drop the MOAB on the fucking BIB. Now if you can’t
follow simple orders then piss off, and I’ll get someone who will,’
the tension shot through the roof and room immediately fell silent.
Boswell buried his red face in his notes blotting out the
surroundings.

The Army and air force chiefs flashed concerned
glances to each other. The last thing they needed was an out of
control president, or a virtual dictator who slashed his advisors
aside with a mighty swipe of his razor sharp tongue.

The unbearable silence continued for several more
moments and Jenkins slowly sat down in his chair, realising that he
had lost his temper for a few seconds.

He looked around the table without meeting one
sympathetic glance
--
all eyes were averted -- this only
served to fuel his anger, but his personal shame overcame it and he
spoke in a quiet measured voice.

‘Look, ladies and gentlemen, I can only reiterate the
fact that we are dealing with unprincipled thugs who would not
hesitate to kill every last American on this planet. Dropping the
MOAB weapon may well horrify you as will the possible consequences.
But, by carrying out this simple act, we prevent them putting the
president on trial for his life, or having to pay out the
horrendous sum of 50 billion US dollars, or any of a dozen other
highly revolting things that they may well come up with before
we’ve finished.

234

God only knows what they’ll do with that sort of
money, if they decide to reinvest it in terrorism, or .perhaps
another nuclear plant at Bushehr, or as many AK 47’s as the
Russians can make in a lifetime, or a dozen IBM’s to drop on New
York and Washington...there’s literally no end to it

Why can’t you gentlemen get it into your heads --
this is a different war -- it’s unabated Armageddon on the run. The
MOAB option is a bargain worth considering, and that ladies and
gentleman, is what we are going to do!’

Chapter Forty-three

The BIB Lear jet had just received landing
instructions from Muscat International airport and was approaching
the runway. Airport authorities had been told to allow a private
transfer to city transport for an important group of VIP’s visiting
the city; they were to be allowed complete carte blanche of the
airport facilities and surrounds.

Three SUV’s were lined up on the northern concourse
of Muscat International airport, waiting for the Lear jet as it
came in to land. The jet landed smoothly and taxied towards the
SUV’s, stopping some five metres short of the nearest vehicle.

Farid Kazeni was the first out brandishing his M10
machine pistol, he quickly opened the doors on the three vehicles
and directed Sharazi and the president into the first SUV. The rest
of the BIB occupied the other two vehicles. Kazeni had given strict
instructions that the airport buildings were to be avoided and side
airfield gates were to be used. He took the wheel of the first SUV
putting his foot on the accelerator and headed for the nearest
opening, within seconds they were on the highway, heading for the
outskirts of Muscat.

High rise buildings gradually gave way to classy
family residences, which slowly petered out to mud built dwellings
that seemed to go on for ever.

It was still stuffy inside the vehicle even with the
vehicle air conditioning working full blast. Outside it was
scorching hot with temperatures in the mid forties.

Sharazi pushed a bottle of spring water to his dry
lips and took several large gulps. He squinted at the president
huddled between two of his men in the back seat. He looked
terrible, with a pronounced white pallor, his hands were trembling,
sweat ran down his face puddling around his open shirt. His eyes
remained shut -- he had not opened them since leaving the plane. He
was obviously in shut down mode, the mind had gone into total
denial and his brain wouldn’t have a bar of it, reality had become
too hard to comprehend.

A glimmer of compassion squeezed its way into
Sharazi’s emotions, and he reached back pushing the bottle in the
president’s face.

‘Here Mr. president...take a swig,’ Garner tried to
force his eyes open as he grappled with the bottle. Sharazi pushed
harder as the president sucked on the open spout, guzzling nearly
half of the water. He pushed the bottle away, coughing and
spluttering, until his eyes burst open in relief. The musty stench
of the surrounding company, who had not washed for several days,
met his nostrils. It was enough to trigger a visceral reaction, but
he was lucky, his body was so exhausted that it abandoned the
effort required to throw-up, and he collapsed back into his sweaty
seat, drooling a stream of water and salvia to the floor.

Sharazi wiped the bottle top with a distastful
grimace, and passed it to Kazeni, who took several sips while
keeping his eyes glued to the road. He seemed to be assessing their
position in relation to landmarks as the vehicle passed several
dilapidated road signs.

‘Where are we going Farid?’

‘There’s a place I know, I have a friend who has a
large mud-brick warehouse out of town.’

‘Will this be the drop off point for the ransom?’

‘Not necessarily...you do ask a lot of questions
Habib... things will be given on a need-to-know basis only,’
Sharazi gazed at the huge dust cloud the convoy was generating,
which only made him feel more insecure. It was clear Kazeni still
didn’t trust him. There were still many things his shifty
taskmaster wasn’t telling him. One of them was the attendant dust
cloud they were generating. The Americans were undoubtedly still
monitoring their progress, and the dust cloud was a highly
effective marker, especially from the air -- not only from high
flying aircraft, but no doubt, also from their sophisticated space
satellite cameras.