The Einstein Papers

CHAPTER 39

The call from Long to his supervisor brought swift action. A white-colored Bell Jet Ranger helicopter flew low over the desert to King Khalid Well No. 47. The sun was below the horizon and the remaining light cast a strange orange glow over the sand. In the rear of the helicopter, Tom Temple, a geologist employed by Aramco, the Saudi-American company that operated the oil field, checked his equipment once again, then tightened his seat belt.

The pilot spoke into the intercom strapped to his head. "We're five minutes out, Mr. Temple."

Temple watched from the window as they approached the well. The tiny dots on the ground became well pumps and trucks as they flew nearer. Temple could see the tracks across the sands the trucks had made as they drove to the well. It looked as if the service workers were a caravan of old, descending on an oasis. But King Khalid Well No. 47

was no oasis; it was the dusty wind that signals a drought is coming. The helicopter pilot flew straight toward the well and landed twenty yards away. Shutting off the engines, he turned to Temple. "Do you need help with that equipment?"

Temple glanced at several oil-field hands who were already running toward the helicopter. "I'll get one of the roustabouts to help."

"In that case," the pilot said, "I need to place sand covers over my air intakes. My instructions were to wait on the ground until you finish," he said as he climbed from the pilot s seat.

A light wind blew from the north, stirring the fallen leaves that were scattered around the grounds of the White House. Inside the Oval Office, Robert Lakeland glanced at his notes again, then continued the briefing.

"The Israeli government received a letter from a group calling itself the "Islamic Sword." They claim they are based in Saudi Arabia, and the bombings in Jerusalem were retaliation for, and I quote, 'The poisoning of our God-given source of wealth.' End quote.

"Poisoning of our God-given source of wealth," the president repeated. "What are they talking about?"

"We have a meeting scheduled with our ambassador in Riyadh in an attempt to determine what the Islamic Sword's talking about. However, Mr. President, that is still several hours away. Whatever the case is, we have a more pressing concern."

"What is that, Robert?"

"Both sides have begun to amass troops in preparation for war. The Israeli military is moving an armored column south to Elat, on the Gulf of Aqaba. From there they can initiate an amphibious assault on Saudi Arabia in a matter of hours. Or, if they choose, their troops can drive through the tip of Jordan and attack en masse," Lakeland said.

"What would be the Jordanian response if that happens?" the president asked.

"The analysts believe that Jordan would be drawn into the skirmish," Lakeland said.

"And the Saudis? What steps have they taken?"

They have moved a battalion of troops north toward the border. They are forming a defense perimeter from Aynunah on the Gulf of Aqaba in an arc to Tabuk, then on to the border with Jordan. They have asked for additional troops from Oman, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, and Kuwait to assist them."

"What has the other countries' response been?" the president asked.

"It appears every country Saudi Arabia contacted agreed to help," Lakeland said, glancing at his notes. "Not only that, intelligence suggests that Egypt is mobilizing their armed forces without being contacted. It seems the Egyptians are just waiting to be asked to join the fray."

"What about the nuclear and biological capability of each side?" the president asked grimly.

"Our analysts are almost unanimous about that. They seem to feel both sides possess at least some of each type of weapon," Lakeland answered directly.

"What's the worst-case scenario if this thing explodes into war?" the president asked as he rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

Lakeland removed a sheet from the pile in front of him and read aloud. "The Israelis or the Saudis attack the other side. As the battle rages on, Iraq again moves against Kuwait. Iran, fearing Iraq will grow in power, sends troops across the Strait of Hormuz to attack Oman and the United Arab Emirates, thus securing access to the Persian Gulf."

"The entire Middle East would then be at war," the president said, shaking his head as if wishing he could toss off the problem.

"That's about the size of it," Lakeland agreed.

"Get the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in here, posthaste," the president said. "I want an immediate redeployment of a sizable contingent of United States troops to the Middle East. Next, call the ambassadors for Israel and Saudi Arabia. Let's see what we can achieve with diplomacy tempered with the implied threat of military intervention."

"Very good, sir," Lakeland said as he rose and raced from the Oval Office.

"One last thing, Robert," the president said as Lakeland paused at the door to the Oval Office. "Get Benson from the NIA to explain to me what this Islamic Sword is. I want to know who we're dealing with."

"Right away, sir," Lakeland said as he rushed off.

Jake Long peered through the microscope Temple had set on a table next to King Khalid Well No. 47. The oil sands under magnification were retrieved from deep inside the ground. They glowed with an eerie incandescence.

"What the hell is this stuff?" Long asked.

"I think it's an oil-eating microbe. And it's reproducing at an alarming rate," Temple said.,

"It must have been injected from that tank my crew removed from the wellhead," Long said. "That tank had no business on this well, I can tell you that."

"That would be my guess," Temple said as he walked toward the helicopter. "I'd better contact my office."

Once inside the helicopter, Temple reached his office on the radio. 'This is Temple. Get me Farouk Aziz, please," he shouted to the radio dispatcher. Long's roustabouts had removed the sampling tool from the wellhead and were now running the color camera down the pipe leading from King Khalid Well No. 47 to the main pipeline. Meanwhile, Long had finished his inspection of the tank his crew had removed and was stowing the tank in the rear of his truck.

"This is Farouk, Tom. Did you find out what was wrong with the well?" Aziz said seconds later.

"I believe the well was injected with what I think is an oil-eating microbe. The sands are completely dry, with no oil residue whatsoever. It is as if someone cleaned them in a giant washing machine."

"Could you have made a mistake?" Aziz asked. "Might it be something else?" Temple said quietly, "We'll test to be sure, but time is very critical."

"What do you think we should do?" Aziz asked.

"The microbes were introduced from a tank hooked to the wellhead. The first thing to do is have crews fan out and check all the wells," Temple said.

"That will take days," Aziz noted correctly.

"The design of the tanks is such that the microbes can only be injected when the well is off gas pressure. That means as long as they are pumping, we have time."

"What do you mean?" Aziz said.

Temple watched from the helicopter as Long raced toward him.

"It appears that the tank was designed so that when the wells quit pumping, the gaspressure relief valve opens and allows the microbes to enter the well." In his office in Riyadh, Aziz stared at a huge wall that listed the oil fields scheduled maintenance.

"We have a problem, Tom. That entire field is scheduled to come off-line so we can run a cleaning plug through the delivery pipeline."

"When?" Temple asked.

"About fifteen minutes from now."

"You have to stop it, Farouk," Temple said.

He heard Aziz shouting hurried instructions across the room at the same instant Long arrived at the helicopter.

"The microbes are in the pipeline," Long said, panting from the exertion of running across the sand.

"Farouk," Temple shouted, "the bugs are in the pipeline. You have to destroy the line."

"How soon?"

"Right now," Temple replied. "Blow that son-of-a-bitch sky high." In a massive air-conditioned underground hangar at Saudi Military City in the sandy hills outside Taima, a flashing red light and whooping alarm filled the vast space. A hydraulically operated rear vent door opened at the same time two technicians attached an auxiliary power unit to a jet. Off to the side in the ready room, General Sultan Saud stared through the window at the jet preparations as he spoke on a red-colored telephone. While his mission was still being described to him he punched his choice of armaments into a computer keypad on the wall next to the telephone. He watched through the window as two teams consisting of a pair of men each began pushing carts containing missiles from a weapons locker. Each of the two teams was responsible for one wing of the jet.

"Inshallah," General Saud said when the telephone call ended. Racing to a dressing room, he quickly got into his Nomex flight suit. Carrying his helmet under his arm, he pulled on his gloves as he walked onto the hangar floor. The two teams of weapons specialists were attaching the last pair of air-to-ground missiles to the far edge of the wings. As General Saud reached the bottom of the ladder to the cockpit he paused. Turning to the specialists, he spoke.

"This is not a drill. We are live fire. Remove pins and arm the weapons." Silently the specialists saluted and continued their tasks. Saud climbed up the ladder to the cockpit and waited as his crew chief unhooked the ladder. Moving to the front of the jet, where Saud could see him, the crew chief signaled that it was clear to start the plane s engines. A hum was followed by a whirring sound that gave way to buzzing, then a blast as the jet fuel ignited and spun the turbine.

The crew chief motioned for the front door of the hangar to be opened. Set on hydraulic rams, the door shot up and locked in place. At a signal from the crew chief one member of the weapons specialist team pulled the chocks from the wheels of the jet then ran to the far walls to stay clear of the jet blast. With a salute from his crew chief General Saud edged the throttles forward on the jet. The plane rolled across the hangar floor, through the door and down a slight rise. Gaining speed quickly, Saud lifted into the air. The entire process from telephone call to liftoff had lasted but a few minutes. Once airborne, General Sultan Saud banked his British-made Tornado fighter to the left and dropped low over the desert. Cruising at an altitude of less than one hundred feet, he had to be aware of his terrain. Far off in the distance he could just make out the thin metal ribbon that was the pipeline.

"I have a visual on the pipeline. Go or no go?"

"It's a go," the control tower at the military city said. Flicking his fire control button, Saud activated his weapons system. He watched as the image of the pipeline appeared in his heads-up display. General Saud carefully aligned the crosshairs until the pipeline was framed in the display. As soon as the light indicator flicked green, showing the missiles had locked on the target, Saud pushed his firing button with his thumb.

Twin Phoenix missiles streaked from his wingtips. On impact they blasted a ten-yard hole in the pipeline. Saud passed over the pipeline and reviewed the damage. Banking again, he observed a replay of the missile strike through film shot from his wingtip cameras. There was no oil visible on the ground.

He banked again, passing over the hole in the pipeline and stared at the ground one last time. No oil was being spilled on the ground from the jagged hole.

"I'm still dry," Saud radioed back to his base. "I'm moving twenty miles farther down the line. I'm down to two missiles. If I don't strike oil this time, alert the ready one plane to lift off."

"Roger that, General," the air traffic controller said. "Ready one to stand by." Banking again, Saud pushed his throttles forward and flew farther down the pipeline. Once the pipeline was framed in his heads-up display he, stared at it for a moment, then climbed straight in the air.

Arcing around in a 7 G-force turn, Saud again lined up perpendicular to the pipeline. Pushing his firing button with his thumb he loosed a single high-explosive missile. Saud broke left to avoid the shower of burning oil and smoke. The charge blew a hole in the pipeline ten yards wide. A cloud of black smoke rose high in the air. With a single missile remaining, General Sultan had struck oil. In Israel, defense forces began to search the homes of suspected Palestinian terrorists as the bombings continued. In Tel Aviv, the explosion of a bomb outside a department store killed ten Israeli citizens. In Jerusalem, an Islamic religious service was interrupted by the blast of a bomb. Eighteen Palestinians were killed and wounded. The Israeli prime minister declared a state of emergency and suspended travel between cities. The mobilization of American forces to the Middle East moved swiftly. U.S. Air Force planes were ferried from Japan, Korea, Diego Garcia, Guam, and Taiwan to bases in the region. Army and Marine units were deployed from Asia, Europe, and the United States. The ready response troops landed at a base in Sudan, just across the Red Sea from the conflict, and began to set up camp. The U.S. Navy ordered the Seventh Fleet redeployed from the South China Sea and the Philippines. The ships of the fleet began racing toward the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea while vessels from Norway, Great Britain, and Italy were ordered to the Mediterranean.

In Beijing, Tao arrived for his meeting with the prime minister.

"Our plan is working perfectly," Tao noted. "The U.S. Navy is steaming toward the Middle East just as we had planned."

"And the Einstein papers?" the prime minister inquired.

"We should have them in our possession in the next twenty-four hours. The courier has made contact and the plans for extraction are in motion."

It would take a miracle now to save Taiwan.