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Authors: Barrett Tillman

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BOOK: Warriors by Barrett Tillman
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HOURS BEFORE BENNETT STIRRED THAT MORNING, KING Rahman had met with his principal military and civilian advisers. The meeting was solemn. The king, seated on an elaborately ornamented throne elevated above the floor, was noticeably ashen-faced. His ministers sat in a semicircle before him, and all took note of the monarch's pallor but none spoke of it. They did not need to. For as the 747 carrying the party from San Diego had passed the entrance to the Mediterranean at Gibraltar, a brief, violent assault had once more rent the Middle East.

       The Israeli army, in a professionally executed lightning attack, had entered Jordan the night before. The invasion was justified by an announcement insisting the move was aimed it hostile guerrilla forces operating within that nation's borders. Israeli troops had occupied Amman in a matter of hours, supported by overwhelming air and artillery forces that smothered the defenses.

       In Tel Aviv the prime minister announced that King Hussein was safe, en route to Cyprus with his family and senior advisers. The immediate fate of occupied Jordan remained uncertain, but it was unlikely the Israelis would withdraw anytime soon.

       While few analysts agreed on a likely conclusion, most were quick to point out a long succession of events leading to the Israeli action. For several years Israeli public opinion had railed against the political leadership for its lack of action to increasingly violent resistance to Israeli domination of Gaza and the West Bank. Following the well-publicized riots' of the late 1980s, Palestinians had gained wider global support, plus military aid from government and private organizations within Lebanon and Jordan. It was a descending spiral of violence: repression brought resistance and revenge bred itself in kind. Eventually the Palestinian
intefadeh,
or uprising, expanded beyond stone-throwing. It grew into selective terrorist raids, evolving as more arms and men became available. All too soon larger operations were conducted with supporting arms-often rockets and artillery from Syria and Iran.

       The political chaos in Lebanon, coupled with Jordan's tenuous position between its indigenous Palestinian population and a need to show support for pan-Arabism, bred the cycle of violence. Bennett concluded that Jordan may have ceased to exist as a nation-state in much the way that Lebanon had degenerated.

       With each Palestinian raid, with each Israeli death, the radical element of Israeli politicians gained increasing support from a disenchanted electorate. Consequently, the Likud party-spawned by the earlier hard-line Herut and Liberal parties-found itself ironically in danger of being portrayed as too moderate or even as ineffectual. Therefore, Likud could not afford to alienate the ultraorthodox segments like the Kach party, whose influence now exceeded its small numbers.

       Eventually the fundamentalist, most nationalist Israeli politicians began insisting that Jordan was not a legitimate country, but a creation of the British. This viewpoint gained a 40 percent plurality among the electorate, and political pressure on the government became intense. Some observers predicted that Israel would propose Jordan as the long-awaited Palestinian homeland, thus skirting the sensitive issue of ceding Israeli-occupied land for that purpose. Bennett knew-in fact, had predicted-that some settlement of the Palestinian issue would be the only means of achieving a balance in the region, especially after the turmoil of the late 1980s. He was enough of a realist to know that peace in the Middle East was a pipe dream. But now it may be too late; the time for concessions to the Palestinians may have passed into history. Now they rode the wave of Islamic fundamentalism which seemed bound to sweep all before it.

       Safad Fatah had hinted as much in his San Diego meeting with Bennett. The moderate Arab states, most notably the Saudis, stood to lose everything. All they could hope for was to hold what they already had.

       The king had already met with delegations from Iran. Khomeini's successors were no less determined than the departed ayatollayh, but they were more pragmatic and had reestablished relations with Riyadh. The long, bitter war with Iraq had shown the folly of pitting Muslim against Muslim and flesh against steel. Now they called for a unified religious war-a
jihad-
which
would once and for all destroy the Jewish state. The superpowers could do little more than observe the growing storm from the sidelines.

       The Saudi monarch now sat on a tenuous throne, knowing that only the power of his oil and money could save him-if coupled with a precisely executed diplomatic scheme by men the quality of Safad Fatah. The Iranians were the key-maintain an accord with them, and the others likely would follow suit. But the king knew that the same men he had hosted over thick coffee and paper-thin wafers were capable of dispatching a team of suicidal assassins the next time.

       Now, addressing his own ministers, the ruler of Saudi Arabia outlined the situation. Though his nation had not been directly involved in the many wars against Israel since 1948, the pattern of combat was well known in Riyadh. Every man in the room knew that no Arab army had seriously threatened the existence of the Jewish state since the Israeli Air Force had grown to early maturity in the mid-1950s. In the usually clear weather of the Middle East, and upon its barren deserts, no army could move on the few roads and hide from Israeli aircraft. Those roads had time and again been lined with the gutted, charred, rusting remains of trucks and armored vehicles.

       John Bennett knew the facts as well as any Arab leader. It was the opening theme in his War College thesis which had brought him to Fatah's attention. Fatah had committed two paragraphs to memory:

       The Middle East arena, from Suez on the canal to Tarabulus in northern Lebanon, is barely 400 miles. A jet aircraft covers this distance in less than one hour at cruising speed. At Mach I the time is barely thirty minutes. Thus, from Tel Aviv the radius of action for a supersonic aircraft puts it within combat in just ten to fifteen minutes.

       Operating in clear weather, in terrain devoid of cities, forests, and even natural depressions in many places, a defending air force sits within easy reach of nearly all likely targets. Antiaircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles may force the aircraft to pay a price for success, but success thus far has been denied the Arabs.
Only airpower can defeat airpower, and at present the only thoroughly professional, world-class air force in the region belongs to Israel.

       Fatah had underlined the crucial last sentence and quoted it when suggesting to his superiors that Commander Bennett was the man for the job.

 

       JOHN BENNETT ANSWERED THE KNOCK AND OPENED THE double doors of his suite. There was Fatah, impeccably draped in a
mishlah
and the traditional
ghotra
headdress.
"As-salaamu alaykum,"
he said. "Peace be upon you." Bennett replied in barely recognizable Arabic.
"Wa alaykumu as-salaam.
And upon you be peace, Mr. Fatah."

       "Well done, Commander Bennett," Fatah lied. "I am impressed.

       Come, we will go straightaway and 1 shall describe the protocol while we walk."

       As Fatah escorted Bennett across the courtyard, Bennett noticed an uneasiness he had seldom known. A deep-seated feeling that this day could be the most important of his life was submerged beneath a seemingly cool exterior as Fatah briefed him.

       "Commander, my king has instructed me to tell you that he wishes you to be completely comfortable and there will be none of the usual pomp. He wishes you to be informal, as he will be with you. "

       On entering the throne room they walked toward the king, who was flanked by his aides. Bennett was surprised to see the monarch dressed almost plainly in traditional garb, with simple accoutrements that belied his status. He was a man of medium height in his late fifties, with lively eyes and a winning smile. As Bennett approached, King Rahman rose from the throne and stepped forward, hand extended. The grip was firm, contrary to Arabic custom, and the king placed his left hand on Bennett's shoulder.
This guy is in the leadership business, all right,
the aviator thought.
Even looks the part: hair graying at the temples like people used to prefer in doctors, presidents, and airline captains.
But Bennett also noted the deep wrinkles above the brow.

       Rahman guided Bennett to a semicircle of Western-style chairs around a gold-leaf antique table. A plain silver tray held seven cups and saucers. Seeming to materialize from thin air, two servants appeared and filled the cups with
gaoa,
a strong green coffee.

       The king briefly introduced the other four men in attendance, as Bennett already knew of Safad Fatah's role as ambassador at large and family confidant. The American shook hands-far less firmly than had the king-with Generals Mustafa Halabi and Mohammad abd Maila, finance minister Tewfig al Aziz, and Dr. Fuad Hamoud, whom Bennett took to be another diplomat of some sort. The air force officers, crisp in their uniforms, showed the British influence and Bennett easily related to them. Aziz, short and balding, had a miserly look about him which Bennett thought ill suited the chief financier of Arabia. Hamoud was a cipher, a bearded man who said little but listened closely.

       Following preliminary pleasantries about his comfort, the beauty of Bennett's California, and the world in -general, Rahman motioned to the waiters. They replaced the
gaoa
with a highly sweetened tea, then disappeared. The king of Saudi Arabia set down his cup.

      
Game time, John, and here comes the serve.

      
The king leveled his gaze at the American and spoke in a precise Etonian accent. "Commander Bennett, I know you must be curious about our invitation to have you leave your beautiful San Diego and travel these thousands of miles to my kingdom. I have need of the services of a man of your capabilities and experience. Before I answer any questions, I would like to take a moment to tell you how we came to choose you. Please do not be offended if I tell you that we expended nearly two years and a great deal of money and influence to find a man such as yourself. In fact, I can say that we settled on four candidates for the mission I propose--two U. S. Air Force officers, a Royal Air Force man, and yourself. You became our first choice.

       "We are completely aware of your exemplary service to your government. Your combat record, we know, made you among the most decorated airmen who flew during that terrible ordeal in Vietnam. We know of your expertise as a tactician, of your scholarly writings on the subject. We know of your reputation as a warrior. And we know of the loss of your wife, for which I extend my sincere condolences. "

       Bennett said nothing.

       The king continued. "Your son is nearly grown and soon may marry." This caught Bennett by surprise. With a mischievous smile the monarch added, "In fact, dear sir, I understand you might soon be a grandfather." Bennett could not suppress an admiring smile. These people were thorough, and he appreciated that quality.

       But inside, Bennett reeled. His first concern was that Paul's carelessness would offend Muslim sensibilities. Paul had told of two Saudis in his dorm at ASU. One of their female cousins had become pregnant out of wedlock, thereby making her guilty of fornication under Muslim law. According to Paul, the girl's parents had turned their home inside out until they found a picture of a young man. The girl would neither confirm nor deny that he was responsible. But the two Saudis said that less than two weeks later the boy in the picture was found on a Riyadh side street with an ornamental dagger in his back.

       Bennett knew the story was plausible--the royal house had once shot a princess who married without permission, then beheaded her husband.

       The king returned to the matter at hand. "Commander, the situation in this region has forced all the Arab nations to build a competent military to protect their individual borders. Simply put, we need a man to raise, train, and lead an air force for these defensive purpose's. Can you tell me, sir, if you had unlimited resources of money and manpower, could you build a first-rate air force which could defend itself against an adversary skilled in the use of airpower?"

       A chill shot through John Bennett. He suspected he might be setting himself up for loss of pension, passport, even U. S. citizenship. This was far beyond the consulting job he had envisioned. He would be an American national in charge of a foreign military force--in short, a mercenary.
Jeez, Bennett, you don't even subscribe to
Soldier of Fortune, he thought.

       The junior Saudi general, Mohammad abd Maila, leaned forward. "Commander, I trained in the United States for part of my career. I am aware of the capabilities and limitations of various American aircraft-I fly the F-5 quite often still. If you agree to our assignment, we would guarantee you a free hand in the selection of pilots and procurement of aircraft. There are many questions we would have regarding this training and the best aircraft for our needs, but at present I believe we should stop and allow you to consider His Majesty's offer."

       The king drew a gold cigarette case from his breast pocket and tapped the end of a Benson & Hedges against the case. Lighting the cigarette, he inhaled, blew a perfect smoke ring, and returned his gaze to the American.

       "The general is correct." The king omitted the fact that Maila was a second cousin and lifelong friend. Some fifteen years before, then-Major Maila had been deputy air attache to Cairo. "We should not ask you to decide here and now. nor do we intend to. Commander Bennett, I can offer you an almost unlimited expense account to procure in large numbers the aircraft you select, to train the pilots and support crew, to provide you with any staff you choose, and to pay you the sums you decide appropriate for this endeavor. If you are not willing to take this assignment we can only say we have enjoyed your company, and we will make immediate preparations to return you to your home. All we ask is your discretion. "

BOOK: Warriors by Barrett Tillman
12.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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