Frontal Assault

7

The emir of the independent state of Qatar, bulging out into the Persian Gulf from the middle of Saudi Arabia, took his usual early-morning stroll around his gardens. He had spent thousands of dollars to make the gardens grow and thrive. He enjoyed plants and exotic animals. He stopped at his prize row of roses and snipped one off to smell.

At that precise moment, a large-caliber rifle round slammed through the morning coolness and smashed into the emir’s chest. Emir and Prime Minister Humand bin Kahalifa alt-Thani jolted backward and sprawled on the carefully clipped lawn. A guard behind him ran forward and bent over the emir, but it was too late. The bullet had blasted through the emir’s chest, taking half of his heart with it before it tore through ribs and exploded out of his back.

They never did find the bullet.

Sirens went off. A hundred palace guards rushed outward from the garden toward the only place that had a view into the garden. It was a small grove of trees the emir had planted several years ago. When the guards stormed into the grove, they found only trampled grass, a discarded sack with leftovers from a meal, and one fifty-caliber shell casing.

Before the guards could recover, two companies of the Qatar elite infantry rushed into the palace and took over the grounds, the palace, the automobiles, and the helicopter that sat on its pad. Six guards protested and were shot down where they stood.

General El Hadar, former chief of the emir’s military, quickly took over the vital controls and services of the small country and declared himself as the new premier. He would rule by proclamation.

General El Hadar watched as his new palace guard assumed all of the functions of the palace, discharged the civilian help, and arrested any of the old guards who did not surrender. He smiled as his infantry shot down four guards who had barricaded themselves in a storeroom. None of them escaped.

His proclamation came only three hours after the emir was assassinated. The words went out over the state-owned radio and television station.

“The people of Qatar must remain calm. This has been a simple transition of power from the emir to General El Hadar. I will lead my people in new directions. I promise enough food, clothing, and education for all of my people. We will grow and prosper and will create new foreign associations to make our small nation even stronger. All normal government services will continue as before. My door is always open for anyone who wishes to talk to me or bring complaints.”

General El Hadar drove from the television station back to the palace and rested. Later that day, he put in a telephone call and talked for more than an hour. When it finished, the premier smiled. Yes, it was good to have powerful friends in high places. The cooperation would continue, and the military equipment would be coming within the week. It was good to be strong, even if your nation had less than 700,000 citizens. It was good to be strong.

The medium-sized tanker lay in her berth next to the loading dock and gulped down the crude petroleum that flowed into her thirty-six holds. She could take thirty-five million gallons of crude, and she would be filled and under way within an hour.

The guards on the pipeline had been tired and inattentive. The next moment, they were dead, and another tanker slid in beside the dock and the Iraqi oil gushed out.

The oil had been long embargoed by the United Nations in retaliation for the Iraqi attack on Kuwait. Now was the time to strike. Now was the time to move out as many tankers as the pipelines would fill. Now was the time for the Iraqi oil to flow once again into the world markets.

Four of the medium-sized tankers had already been filled and now sailed silently and secretly down the Persian Gulf headed for oil-hungry markets that would pay more than the market price.

Ar Ramandi watched the hoses being connected and could hear the oil surging through the tubes. Now Iraq would at last have more hard currency to use for its master plan. More cash, more power.

A workman attaching one of the large hoses tripped and fell, dropping sixty feet between the side of the tanker and the dock. For a moment, there was a piercing cry of pain and anguish, then the big boat surged slightly toward the dock, crushing the flailing man against the piling, and the cries stopped suddenly.

Ar Ramandi lifted his brows. The men were cautioned to be careful but quick. They could be discovered at any time and could face severe penalties. It was a risk that all of them were willing to take since the orders came from so high in the Iraqi government.

Ar Ramandi smiled as the tanker signaled it was loaded, the hoses came out, and the big ship at once loosened the huge tie-down ropes and a moment later eased away from the dock and moved toward the outer bay where it would slip into the gulf unnoticed.

Twelve of the medium-sized tankers loaded and left before the sun came up. By then, the locked and guarded pipeline heads were back to normal and the Iraqi guards patrolled the area. With any luck, the tankers would be out of the Persian Gulf and heading for their customers before the U.N. or anyone else realized that they contained the embargoed Iraqi oil.

Ar Ramandi slid into his big, government car and turned up the air-conditioning. He had the driver take him back to Baghdad. It was cool and pleasant in the car. He would sleep most of the way.

Emir Usa ban Sulman al-Khalifa, the head of state in this traditional monarchy, attended an outdoor soccer game when the national Bahrainian team played against a team from Qatar. The first period was over with the game tied 1 to 1. The emir came out of his traditional white canvas tent to urge on his home team.

Two men with submachine guns ran from the crowd and fired their weapons on full automatic. The emir was hit by more than twenty rounds. When the weapons ran out of rounds, the crowd dove on the assassins, beating them to death before soldiers could get to the killers to try to identify them or find out who they were working for or what political faction they represented.

TV cameras at the game caught the final shots of the assassins and then the crowd venting its anger on the killers.

Two hours later, General Yasim Nassar attacked the emir’s national palace with two companies of rangers, routed the few guards there, killed more than a dozen people who protested, and claimed that he was the new premier of Bahrain.

He went on TV, urging the people to be calm. He said the savagery of the assassins today who killed the emir made it even more important for there to be a strong government to control the island. He said all connections the assassins had would be investigated, and the blame for this tragedy put on the proper country or movement. He said his own move to stabilize the government went smoothly. That all regular governmental operations and services would continue. The eleven thousand in the armed forces had pledged their support for his move, and the country would be ruled for the next two weeks under martial law to try to root out the factions that assassinated their beloved emir.

He said the prime minister, who was second in command of the nation, was missing, and he was afraid that the terrorists who killed the emir might have kidnapped him. There was no confirmation of this, and the prime minister was eagerly sought by the new government to help assure that there would be a smooth transfer of power to the new regime.

Stroh waved the papers again, and the room quieted. The SEALs knew this man’s connections and his power, and all of it directly affected them and their lives.

“We’ve got big trouble sprouting up all over the Middle East. First those embassy attacks, then the bombings in Cairo on U.S. companies. Then the hijacking of a U.S. flag tanker. Now we have military coups in two nations along the Persian Gulf. Nobody knows what the hell is going on. Whatever it is, it’s big and getting bigger. We’ve had requests from six small nations and emirates and sultanates around the gulf to come and give them some protection.

“There have been military takeovers and assassinations in Bahrain and in Qatar. Okay, not exactly huge places, but those two have been nominally our friends for a while and haven’t been helping out Iraq or Iran.

“We told most of the others asking for help that we’re not the damned police force for the whole fucking world. Most of them don’t understand. They think we have unlimited resources and manpower and planes and tanks. Ain’t so.

“Right now, we’re getting stretched thin in lots of places. We’re relying more and more on the Reserves and the National Guard to fill in and shore up weak spots when we do get a crisis.

“What can I say?”

“So, where do we come in?” Murdock asked. “I know you’re coming to it, but my retirement is coming up in about eighteen years and I’d like to…”

Stroh swung at him and missed. “Okay, you want it flat out, you get it. The sultan of Oman has asked for help, and in their great wisdom, State and the Joint Chiefs have decided that we can give them some help. To get your geography right, Oman is just down from the Strait of Hormuz, and it curves around the peninsula east and south of Saudi Arabia. It’s to hell and gone down there.

“It’s a good-sized place, a little larger than the state of Colorado, and has about two and a half million people. Army has about 45,000 men. It does oil, gas, fruits, dates, and fish. So you guys are going down there and try to keep their sultan from getting his head shot off.”

“Sounds fair,” Murdock said. “When?”

“That’s the fun part. You’re due down there yesterday. The good part is you’re going to Muscat City, which is on the Gulf of Oman, so it’s not a long flight from here.”

Murdock turned to the men. “Hey, you heard the man. Check out your gear, get loaded up with ammo. My guess, we’ll be bailing out of here as soon as we can on a COD. Let’s hustle.”