Battleline (2007) (24 page)

"I'll need time to write it up," Wallenger said sullenly.

"Frank Brice has already composed the delivery," Allen said. "And that's the one you'll use." He leaned forward, picked the intercom handset, and spoke into it. "Lazlo, take us to Mr. Wallenger's home now."

Czernk turned off at the next exit, going under the overpass, then headed back east.

.

ARMY GENERAL HEADQUARTERS

TEHRAN, IRAN

9 AUGUST 0815 HOURS

MAJOR Arsalaan Sikes, Brigadier Shahruz Khohollah, and Captain Naser Khadid had arrived in Iran's capital city the night before from the OA in Afghanistan. They were given quarters in the transit billets of the local garrison, then picked up by an army sedan and driven to the national army's GHQ that morning. Now they sat in the presence of Major General Nirou Mandji, the Chief of Operations. Sikes had his left arm in a sling from the wound he had taken during the Americans' latest raid.

The general's office was not as luxurious or fancy as would be expected in the bailiwick of a Western officer of his rank. His desk was not made of mahogany or teakwood. In fact, there was no difference between it and that of his sergeant-clerk, stationed outside his door. Two portraits-one of the national President and the other of the Commanding General of the Army-were on the wall. The Iranian flag was mounted on the opposite side of the room. The floor was simple tile and not laid in too expertly, and the windows needed a wash. Sikes almost grinned to himself at the thought of what a British Army sergeant major would do if he charged into the office and saw its deplorable condition.

General Mandji was not a happy man, but it had nothing to do with his work environment. When he spoke, it was with a growl, and he expressed himself in fluent English for Sikes' benefit. "The situation at the Afghanistan border is getting entirely out of control. The Americans have made attacks and gotten away with them. We must bloody their noses when they become aggressive. If they manage to withdraw from the field of battle, it should be disastrous for them no matter the results of the engagement. What I am declaring is that those infidels must return to their positions fewer in numbers and badly shot up." He displayed a furious scowl. "They are
not
afraid of you!"

Khohollah was not intimidated by the officer, who was one rank above him. "Our opponents are from the strongest nation in the world,
Sharlaskar"
he protested, addressing the general by his rank in Farsi. "We are not dealing with Pashtun villagers out there. The enemy can keep whatever level of intensity they desire with the ease of raising or lowering flames under a boiling pot. Their supply lines are unlimited and filled with everything they want or need."

"I am well aware of your opponents in this struggle,
Satrip"
General Mandji said, returning the form of address. "What you must keep foremost in your mind is that the nation cannot afford a defeat in this operation. If we are unable to establish a foothold past the international border, all our plans will fail."

Sikes was not impressed with Mandji. His instinctive feelings of superiority over Arabs and Iranians gave him a defiant attitude. "Let's get a bit logical about this, hey, Gen'ral? Wot we need is a bigger punch, yeah? More reinforcements straightaway, and that means no less than a hundred or so blokes to beef up our lines."

Mandji looked scornfully at the man he knew had deserted from his own army. "You are forgetting that at this time we must keep as low a profile as possible."

"Then give us seventy-five," Sikes insisted. "But no less than that."

Sikes' attitude emboldened Khadid. The Iranian captain interjected, "And we need mortars,
Sharlaskar.
The grenade launchers we have are little help in counterfire against the heavy machine guns the Americans now have."

"I am not so sure of that," General Mandji said. "The last time the Americans attacked you, they parachuted behind your fortifications. And they were able to penetrate your positions with ease."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Sikes said. "It wasn't
easy
for 'em. Not for one bluddy second it wasn't. We fought back hard." He patted his arm in the sling. "I didn't get this for having tea with 'em, did I?"

"I have no doubt about your collective bravery, Major Sikes," General Mandji said.

"Well, that's good to know," Sikes said. "Anyhow, if we'd had more men, we could've covered our back door, but it just wasn't possible to keep an eye on them bastards over across the valley with so few while trying to repel a surprise attack."

Khohollah decided that he had better take over the conversation, since Sikes could easily upset Mandji. The Brit didn't realize that he could be dragged from the office and taken to a firing squad with just a snap of the general's fingers. The brigadier spoke in a calmer tone. "It is in my opinion that we are reaching the limit of our ability to continue our mission under the present circumstances,
Sharlaskar.
I say this respectfully, and it is my ardent hope that you take my statement seriously. I offer it as both a tactical and a strategic revelation as a professional soldier and a general officer."

Mandji nodded and took a deep breath of frustration. He sank into thought, and the three visitors knew he was considering the big picture of both their mission and how it would affect Iran's imperial ambitions. He finally sighed, raised his eyebrows, and spoke in a much softer voice.

"You have made your point, gentlemen," the general said. "It may surprise you to know that at the meeting of the General Staff two days ago, we discussed the possibility that it was time to change our objectives there on the border. Your candid statements this morning have shown that we must go in a different direction in this initial phase of the invasion of Afghanistan."

Sikes started to speak, but Khohollah put his hand on his arm to stop him. Then the brigadier turned to the major general. "We are anxious to hear what you will expect of us,
Sharlaskar."

Mandji leaned forward. "We are going to pull all the stops out now. The velvet gloves are going to be taken off, and we'll hit the Americans so unexpectedly and hard they will be sent reeling. Arrangements have been made for close air support to back you up. Additionally, there will be a heavy armor punch, complete with tanks and self-propelled artillery. All that will be followed by platoons of infantry fighting vehicles filled with brave Iranian soldiers." He now leaned back and smiled. "Within seventy-two hours of that big push, we will be halfway across Afghanistan, and the government there will sue for peace while the Pashtuns flock to our colors."

Khohollah chuckled. "And our terms will include kicking the Americans and other coalition forces out of the country,
na, Sharlaskar
?"

"Exactly," Mandji said. "It will take at least a month for all preparations to be made. In the meantime, you will go completely defensive. Be on your guard for more attacks. We will send you another fifty men and some mortars. But do not make any aggressive moves. Use your additional personnel and weapons to mount a strong, unyielding defense. You must hold that fortress! It will be an anchor around which the invasion will flow." He studied their reaction to the news, liking what he saw. "You are dismissed. Transportation has already been arranged to take you back to the Afghanistan border."

The three officers of the Zaheya snapped-to and saluted.

.

BONHOMME RICHARD
CLUB

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

11 AUGUST 2130 HOURS

NOT even the oldest members of the club knew why it had been named after John Paul Jones' famous Revolutionary War ship. Various rumors and conjecturing had gone on for decades until the passing of time made the point moot. For more than two centuries the social group had been a little-known part of life in old Arlington, where it was organized by well-to-do merchants, politicians, and military and naval officers, along with other notables who used the facilities to draw off and be among their peers in society. The club was so exclusive that only members and the staff were allowed into the building. Later, as politics and commerce became more complicated, members were allowed to invite associates for clandestine sessions regarding their various political and commercial concerns. Small rooms were made available for these meetings, where a good number of consequential agreements and deals had been made.

The club had been at its present location near the Potomac River since 1856, and as the world entered the twenty-first century, it remained restricted but without regard to race or religion. The membership, however, was still made up of important, influential men who wielded power and wealth.

DR. Carl Joplin, in the company of Mr. Saviz Kahnani from the Iranian Embassy, walked from the cab up to the steps leading into the club. Jacob the doorman opened the glassed-in portals. The African-American wore a rather unique garb that had been traditional for the greeters at
Bonhomme Richard
since the 1890s. It consisted of a top hat, a bright red, gold-trimmed jacket, and navy blue trousers with a wide red stripe down the outside of each leg. The hot summer weather did not disturb Jacob, since he stayed inside the air-conditioned foyer and peered through the glass door for arriving members. When he spotted the two diplomats, he stepped out to hold the door open for them.

"Good evening, Dr. Joplin."

"Hello, Jacob," Joplin said, gesturing to Kahnani to go in ahead of him. When they entered the lobby, Joplin stopped by the desk to check in. The clerk, a dignified sixty-year-old with thick white hair and a neatly trimmed beard, informed Dr. Joplin that his reserved conference room on the second floor was waiting for him.

Joplin took the lead, and Kahnani followed him up a flight of stairs. From there they went down a long hallway to a spot where a door stood open. When they entered the fourteen-by-fifteen-foot room, they saw a couple of plush leather chairs with a small table between them. The American had already called in to make sure a pot of fresh coffee and a selection of pastries were waiting. Each man served himself in turn, then sat down to sip the coffee and enjoy sweet rolls, making light conversation.

Saviz Kahnani was the Iranian charge d'affaires, who represented his ambassador on special occasions. He, like Joplin, was one of those silent gentlemen who worked behind the scenes on delicate matters of international diplomacy. This very late get-together was one of those situations.

After a quarter hour of chitchat and munching, the Iranian looked quizzically at his American host, saying, "Well, well. What occasion has brought us together this evening, Carl?"

"A discussion regarding that little situation on the Iran-Afghanistan border seems to be in order," Joplin replied.

Kahnani smiled and nodded. "Why aren't I surprised?"

"Why indeed?" Joplin replied. "The confrontations there, while deadly and explosive, seem to be going nowhere for everyone involved. Don't you think?"

Kahnani only shrugged.

"My government believes it is time to come up with a solution that will save face for everyone concerned," Joplin said.

"Make me trust you, Carl."

"I'll do my best, Saviz. We are at a stalemate. Neither side is going to come out ahead in this thing. Why keep it up?" He was aware that for the Iranian to agree, his government would have to give up their Persian Empire project. The President and the Secretary of State had sent Joplin without really expecting the Iranians to go for a cease-fire, but thought that the meeting would be a good opportunity for them to start giving it serious consideration.

"Perhaps if the Americans and their coalition friends agreed to pull out of Afghanistan, my government would consider what you're proposing," Kahnani said.

"That can't be done," Joplin replied.

"Then we have no reason to consider the proposal," Kahnani responded, telling a lie in the diplomatic sense. "We do not find ourselves in agreement regarding a stalemate."

"Then there's something else to consider," Joplin said. He reached for the coffeepot. "Care for another cup, Saviz?"

"Thank you, Carl," Kahnani said. He watched Joplin refill the cup, then asked, "What is this 'something else' that must be considered?"

"The Israelis might decide to interfere," Joplin said, setting the pot down.

"They would only interfere if they had America's approval," Kahnani said.

"Not necessarily," Carl stated. "They have had their backs up about the Hezbollah for quite some time now. And that includes the support the group receives from Iran."

"Mmm," Kahnani mused. "Well, dear Carl, I have no authority to make a deal with you this evening. However, I shall pass on your suggestions to my ambassador, who will then take them to Tehran."