The Scorpion's Gate (31 page)
Men in green uniforms and khaki uniforms poured from the buildings in the camp as a klaxon sounded and voices from the speaker systems shouted in Arabic and Chinese. A large green truck moved between two rows of warehouse buildings, carrying two stages of a CSS-27 mobile missile. But one of the M-1 tanks was right on its tail and seemed to crawl up onto the truck’s flatbed. With a roar, the missile burst into a fireball, engulfing the truck, the tank, and a nearby building.
At the port of Jizan on the Red Sea, the guards saw the big helicopters coming in time to sound the alarm. The chief of the port police ordered his men to fire, yelling that the helicopters were American, painted to look like Islamyah’s army. He grabbed a machine gun mounted on a pickup truck and started to fire, and his men joined in a hail of bullets, shooting up at the approaching Chinook CH-47s. The lead chopper seemed to stop, then it burst in two in an orange flash.
The remaining Chinooks broke left, away from the port, and then a wave of smaller Apache AH-64 attack helicopters appeared. The port police could see the smoke as missiles left the rails of the Apache and rockets shot out of pods hung below their fuselages. Almost instantly, explosions erupted in the piles of shipping containers stacked high in the yard. The police chief looked behind him to see a Chinook whipping up debris as it hovered over a dock, troops rappelling down ropes out of its rear cargo door. Above the noise, the port police chief started yelling, “Surrender, surrender!”
In the basement of the Security Center, Abdullah bin Rashid’s deputies manned the telephones and radio consoles, fielding reports on the progress of the Protectors, as their combined army and national guard was now called. The reports were mostly good. The oil refineries and shipment facilities were secured. The religious police at the Two Holy Mosques had been quietly replaced. At the ports and airports where the additional Chinese were scheduled to arrive, patrol boats blocked the harbors, and tanks sat on the runways. The CSS-27 missile bases were now in the hands of the Protectors, and the Chinese guests well cared-for.
There was, however, fighting in the Hadramaut region near the Yemeni border, where the local army unit remained loyal to a governor tied to Zubair bin Tayer and his faction on the Shura. Also, when the Dhahran base commander had read out the communiqué about the change in the Shura membership, two F-15s had taken off and then strafed the field. A Navy patrol craft captain loyal to bin Tayer had ordered his sailors to lob rounds into an army facility near Jeddah.
The worst fighting, however, was in and around Riyadh. Bin Tayer had placed loyalists in several military and police units, and his brother, a colonel, was in charge of a regiment of infantry twenty miles north of the capital. The regiment had converged on an office, warehouse, and housing compound once built for an American defense contractor. It was walled and easily defended.
“It’s confirmed, bin Tayer is in the Vanilla compound,” an officer announced in Abdullah’s underground command post. “He’s got most of his Shura supporters with him, and he’s calling it a meeting of the Council. Their guys are well positioned to keep us out. We got two tanks burning from antitank missiles. We got a lot of casualties.” Abdullah stroked his beard.
“Bomb it, Abdullah,” General Khalid urged. “There is no need for us to take casualties. Just blow them up. I will order up a squadron of Tornadoes and it will be over.”
“No!” Abdullah yelled. “You are right, Khalid. Our boys should not take casualties. But neither should theirs. We are all brothers.” Then, walking toward his friend, Abdullah stood in front of the general and directed him, “Pull our boys back a bit. Then launch your Tornadoes, but have them drop their bombs outside the compound walls. What the stupid Americans called shock and awe. Then talk bin Tayer into surrendering.”
“I will do the bombing, Sheik, but who can talk bin Tayer and his Shura fools into surrendering?” Khalid asked.
“I will. I’m going over there,” Abdullah said as he went for the door. “Khalid, you are in charge. Ahmed, you are his deputy. And,
Ahmed, see that the scorpion gate videotape is ready for when I have arrested bin Tayer, and then call the Chinese Embassy.” Before anyone could object, Abdullah bin Rashid had left the command room. As he pulled his Range Rover up to the forward command post outside the rebellious compound, Abdullah could see Tornadoes circling in the distance. “What are they waiting for?” he asked General Hammad, who was leading the assault.
“For you,” Hammad said, smiling and signaling to an officer standing beside a radio-laden Humvee. Two minutes later, three Tornadoes swept in low, dropping bombs in front of and on either side of the compound. As the center Tornado pulled up, it was hit by a shoulder-fired rocket. Smoke trailed behind the Tornado, which disappeared from view. Then there was the noise of an explosion, and a black column billowed upward in the distance. “They just killed a pilot. So, do it again, Hammad,” Abdullah ordered. “Throw the bombs out forward of the planes. Don’t fly over the compound. And put the bombs inside the walls this time.” Four minutes later, two F-15s could be seen approaching over the city at low altitude. As they approached the forward command
post, both Eagles seemed to stand on their tails, arch over, and begin to fly back in the direction they had come. Halfway up their short climb, a large bomb separated from each Eagle and arched in the opposite direction, toward the compound. Abdullah pulled General Hammad down behind the Range Rover. A second later the detonation shook the vehicle, and the roar continued on for several minutes.
post, both Eagles seemed to stand on their tails, arch over, and begin to fly back in the direction they had come. Halfway up their short climb, a large bomb separated from each Eagle and arched in the opposite direction, toward the compound. Abdullah pulled General Hammad down behind the Range Rover. A second later the detonation shook the vehicle, and the roar continued on for several minutes.
When they looked up, the front gate and most of the front wall of the compound were gone. Fires burned in several places inside.
“You have been talking to bin Tayer’s brother, the colonel, inside?”
Abdullah asked General Hammad. “Call him back and tell him in four minutes the entire compound will be obliterated unless they
surrender. Call him. Now!”
Fifteen minutes later, General Hammad walked up from the communications Humvee. “The compound is secure. They all surrendered, and they have bin Tayer and the others in custody.” “They must be treated with respect,” Abdullah told the general.
“Let’s go see them.” The two men climbed into Abdullah’s Range Rover and drove into the compound, around chunks of wall and
burning vehicles. “We will put them under house arrest. In the Saud’s desert villas in the south. Until the elections. Then they can
run, make their case peacefully to the people. Maybe they will win.” An officer directed them to a large white villa in the center of the
compound. Its windows had been blown out and curtains hung askew. Abdullah and his general met bin Tayer and three other Shura members being held by the guards near a fountain inside. Abdullah spoke first. “Zubair bin Tayer, I place you under arrest for conspiring with foreign agents, for planning to bring additional foreign troops into the country without the consent of the Shura, and for planning to put in jeopardy the welfare of the nation by introducing weapons of mass destruction into the land of the Two Holy Mosques.”
burning vehicles. “We will put them under house arrest. In the Saud’s desert villas in the south. Until the elections. Then they can
run, make their case peacefully to the people. Maybe they will win.” An officer directed them to a large white villa in the center of the
compound. Its windows had been blown out and curtains hung askew. Abdullah and his general met bin Tayer and three other Shura members being held by the guards near a fountain inside. Abdullah spoke first. “Zubair bin Tayer, I place you under arrest for conspiring with foreign agents, for planning to bring additional foreign troops into the country without the consent of the Shura, and for planning to put in jeopardy the welfare of the nation by introducing weapons of mass destruction into the land of the Two Holy Mosques.”
Bin Tayer spat at him. “It is you who will be arrested. For killing our citizens. For exceeding your authority as security chief.” “Zubair, we differ. Maybe in an election, the majority of the men and women of our country would agree with you, but I doubt—” Bin Tayer cut Abdullah short. “There will be no elections with
women.
” He brought something out from under his robes and pulled at it.
women.
” He brought something out from under his robes and pulled at it.
Time seemed to freeze—and then there was a roar, followed by more roars, and flashes inside the gleaming white villa. Guards ran
in to find bodies strewn on the floor. Many, including General Hammad, were wounded, sitting up or leaning against the fountain.
in to find bodies strewn on the floor. Many, including General Hammad, were wounded, sitting up or leaning against the fountain.
Nine others were dead: the four rebellious Shura members, blown to bits from the blast of their four hand grenades. Four guards. And Abdullah bin Rashid.
Blood poured down General Hammad’s face; his eyes bulged out. He struggled to respond to an officer who had just run in to
take charge of the scene. “Call the Center. Get me Dr. Ahmed bin Rashid....”
take charge of the scene. “Call the Center. Get me Dr. Ahmed bin Rashid....”
Hideaway Office of Senator Paul Robinson
Chairman, Senate Select Intelligence Committee
Hart
Senate Office Building, Capitol Hill
Senate Office Building, Capitol Hill
Washington, D.C.
“
C
all the President,” Russell MacIntyre urged the Senator. “Tell him what his Secretary of Defense is about to do.”
C
all the President,” Russell MacIntyre urged the Senator. “Tell him what his Secretary of Defense is about to do.”
Sol Rubenstein answered his deputy on the Senator’s behalf. “He can’t just call up and get the President and have a one-on-one chat. Besides, the President is at the Asia Pacific meeting in Chile.”
“They moved Chile to Asia?” Robinson joked. “Look, Rusty, all of this has taught me something, and I intend to build a coalition and act on it. We can’t go into this century with our energy policy being to fight wars over who gets the remaining oil. The Chinese growth has just exacerbated it, but we already had a problem. We have a market failure here. The private sector cannot pay for the massive costs and risks of developing alternative energy. So we have to. With new tough conservation regulations, with tax credits, and with an unprecedented R & D program. As to what’s happening today and tomorrow...”
“Look, Rusty, it’s not that we don’t believe you. We do,” Rubenstein added. “It’s just that we don’t know how to stop it. The intel brief this morning shows the Chinese fleet is more than halfway there. Conrad is right to try to stop them from landing troops and sending in nukes.”
Rusty bristled. “We haven’t done enough diplomatically with the Chinese to stop them. Remember the Cuban Missile Crisis. How did we stop the Soviet ships from bringing in nukes? Not with just
the Navy. Besides, he’s not just stopping the Chinese from landing, he is having Americans land and take over the fucking country,” MacIntyre said in exasperation. “Except for the part he bargained away with Iran.”
the Navy. Besides, he’s not just stopping the Chinese from landing, he is having Americans land and take over the fucking country,” MacIntyre said in exasperation. “Except for the part he bargained away with Iran.”
The two older men looked at each other. Rubenstein spoke. “Rusty, you can’t prove Conrad did that. At best those documents you have prove that some Iranian wrote that he had met with Kashigian and he agreed. Of course, Kashigian will say it’s a setup... he was there to threaten them. At best we get Conrad for not coordinating with the State Department.”
MacIntyre stared at his boss. “Look, Sol, I know I’m too close to this thing, but the way I look at it, we are only a day or two away from a war with China and an occupation by a division of U.S. Marines of the most holy land in the Muslim world.” MacIntyre looked from Rubenstein to Robinson. “Am I missing something here, Senator?”
Neither man answered.
“All right, well, what about the fact that Kate Delmarco is about to blow the lid off the whole Saudi funding deal with Conrad? Isn’t that enough to get him recalled from Egypt?” Rusty asked.
The Senator walked over to a stack of newspapers. “Did you say the Kate Delmarco story?”
“Yeah, did she run it already? I just got off the airplane two hours ago. Been in the air and airports for twenty-two hours,” MacIntyre said, rubbing his forehead.
Senator Robinson picked up the paper and put on his reading glasses. “Here it is. Made the late edition. Pulitzer Prize–winning reporter for the
New York Journal
Katherine Delmarco was found dead tonight, an apparent victim of a heart attack....”
New York Journal
Katherine Delmarco was found dead tonight, an apparent victim of a heart attack....”
“What!” Rusty screamed. He felt a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach.
The Senator continued, “Ms. Delmarco, forty-five, was found by Park Police in an area off George Washington Parkway, where she had apparently stopped while experiencing chest pains driving to an appointment in McLean....”
Rusty sat down and looked at the rug. “They killed her!”
“Who killed her?” Senator Robinson asked.
“Who? The Saudis, Kashigian, I dunno. The same guys who blew up Admiral Adams’s plane, the guys who compromised Brian Douglas’s source and damn near got him killed in Tehran. The ones who sicced the FBI on me for meeting with terrorists...
them.
” Rusty sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. What was the point? Maybe like the characters in Furst’s book, he was just a little person who had to stand by and watch the war come, get swept up in its vortex, have everything he loved destroyed.
them.
” Rusty sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. What was the point? Maybe like the characters in Furst’s book, he was just a little person who had to stand by and watch the war come, get swept up in its vortex, have everything he loved destroyed.
“Here, what’s this?” Sol Rubenstein asked, pointing at the television. “Paul, take that thing off mute. Turn up the volume, will ya?”
Senator Robinson found the remote and turned up the audio on CNN. “. . . fighting. A statement issued in the name of the Shura Council Vice Chairman Abdullah bin Rashid said that there had been an attempted coup by Iranian-sponsored elements and that Shura Chairman Zubair bin Tayer had died in the fighting. The statement said that full stability had been restored. It gave no further proof of the alleged Iranian involvement, but said that Rashid would address the nation tomorrow. In other news from...”
Rusty looked up and smiled. “That’s it. They’ve started. Abdullah and Ahmed!”
“Sounds to me like what you feared would happen is happening,” Sol Rubenstein answered. “Both Iran and Conrad can claim there is chaos there. And Iran can say that this bin Rashid guy is blaming Tehran so he can beat up on the Shi’a.”
“No, no,” Rusty countered. “Don’t you see? Ahmed and Abdullah are taking over. They are going to try to stop this engine that’s coming down the track. How ironic. We three sit here and can’t think of how to affect our own government, and it’s the guys in Islamyah who are doing something.”
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