The Scorpion's Gate

17

“Play the tape,” General Khalid ordered.

All television channels in the country switched to an image of a plain green flag flying against a blue sky. A martial song played in the background. Above the music, a voice said, “And now to speak to the nation, Abdullah bin Rashid, Chairman of the national Shura.”

Abdullah, dressed in formal robes, stood against a green background. The camera zoomed in on his face. “Although you have not selected me, it is my task now to lead this nation until you choose one who will lead us. We who are members of the Shura have been chosen only by those who fought to unseat the usurpers who stole the wealth of our nation for their one family.

“But the day will come this year when you will choose those who will lead us. Let no one stop you, brothers and sisters, from making that choice.

“When you choose, think about the future. Think about how we Arabs can restore our greatness, how we can contribute to the world’s progress. We must contribute more than just the energy from fossils millions of years old. Once again, we must turn the power of our minds to math and science, to medicine and engineering, to learn to unlock the secrets of what Allah has given to us. It will take tapping the skills of all our people, men and women.

“If this republic can survive, we can look forward to a day when the peace of Allah may prosper in this world. When weapons of mass destruction will themselves be destroyed. When we unlock Allah’s other gifts, to replace the ancient fossil fuels that Allah provided to the world. Allah placed them in our land, providing humanity with the fuel for the phase of emergence, which is now passing.

“To hasten those days, we will take leadership. Today we destroy the long-range missiles in our nation, missiles that one day might have carried weapons of mass destruction. We have brought the diplomatic representatives of many nations to our deserts to see this destruction. We invite international inspection, anywhere, anytime. And we call upon Iran, Israel, and other nations to follow our example.

“Today we invest two billion euros, the first of a much greater amount, to create the Future Energies Institute here in Riyadh, an international center to develop and deploy new methods of electrical and other power beyond the fossil era. Here, too, we invite the international community to join us in funding and participating in open discovery. Until we help the world emerge from the fossil era, we shall share our oil on the world’s market, open to all to buy, at the rate of one percent of our known reserves every year. No more, no less. Ten percent of our revenues will go to the Future Energies Institute. If anyone uses force to seek more of our assets, all of our oil facilities will self-destruct. Thus, there is no point in invading our lands.

“And we must recognize that just as Allah has placed this special reserve in our land, we hold a special responsibility to Allah to preserve and protect the Two Holy Mosques he has also placed within our borders. These places are sacred to almost two billion Muslims. Muslims of all communities, Sunni and Shi’a, for there is no one right community of Islam. And our government must protect them all and support no single view.

“You, in turn, must protect our government and our nation. Especially now, in this time of transition. There are those who may be tempted to invade our territory, to drain our sands of the fuels below. You can scare these scorpions away. You can demonstrate your support of the revolution. March to the Red Sea, line it with thousands of patriots and believers. Show that you are ready to sacrifice to preserve our nation. Members of the Shura are organizing transportation in every city. After this broadcast, join me. March for Islamyah.” The camera zoomed out and now showed dozens of men and women on either side of Abdullah.

“You will not march alone. Let me introduce you to the new Shura Council. Here is my brother, Ahmed, a man of medicine, who now is my right hand seeking to heal this nation and who has developed this plan. Here is General Khalid, who leads the Protectors. Here Fatima Khaldan, a scientist, who has returned to her native land from…”

When the introductions ended, the screen dissolved to an image of General Khalid and Ahmed sitting side by side. Khalid spoke. “After he taped that speech for broadcast today, Abdullah was killed by enemies of the revolution. Now potential enemies lurk off our coasts. Our forces are scaring off Persians in the east. As Abdullah asked, you must be our forces in the west, on the Red Sea. Join with Dr. Rashid as he carries the body of his martyred brother to the sea.”

“Sir, we have to make a decision. Do we make the landing on the east coast or west coast in the morning, in Egypt or Islamyah?” General Moore, the commander of U.S. Central Command, asked the Secretary.

“Have the Iranians achieved a beachhead?” Secretary Conrad asked General Moore.

“A limited one near Jubail, but the aircraft from the Reagan, the Emirates, Qatar, and Kuwait are pounding it pretty hard. And it looks like their invasion of Bahrain has been repulsed altogether,” the general said.

“They weren’t invading Bahrain, General,” Secretary Conrad insisted. “That was just a feint, probably.”

“Fucking Adams! I knew it,” Kashigian said to the Secretary. “But we can still claim the need to go in to protect the oil from a secondwave Iranian attack… and from the chaos in Islamyah. There is definitely chaos there. They’re changing leaders by the day.”

Conrad exhaled, loudly. “Maybe. What about the Chinese troops and the nukes?”

“Well, the two Chink carriers are definitely heading home. The Ro-Ros have docked in Karachi, where they seem to be delivering military vehicles to Pakistan, along with a bunch of military advisers and technicians,” General Moore read from his message traffic.

“So no Chinese threat,” Conrad muttered at Kashigian.

“Mr. Secretary, ever since that speech this morning by the Shura fella, we have been getting reports of movement toward the beaches, the landing areas we planned. Lemme show you the feed we’re getting from Global Hawk of what we call Nebraska Beach, or landing area Alpha Two.”

The image that appeared on the large screen showed a coastal area, then zoomed in to show a beach, then in farther to show people massing in groups.

“I don’t see any tanks, artillery. What are they armed with? Zoom in more,” Conrad blustered at the general.

“Mr. Secretary, that’s just it. They’re not armed. They’re civilians. And they’re, like, holding hands and praying. Every so many yards there’s some imam with them.”

The secretary had walked up to the screen, trying to peer down onto the beach. He turned back to Kashigian. “Ron, what do you

make of…Ron, stop reading the goddamn news clips. I have to make a decision.”

Kashigian walked over to the Secretary, carrying the newly arrived news summary. “This just came in. Front page on the New York Journal. A story written by that Delmarco reporter. It says although her laptop was missing from her car when she was found, it had automatically backed up her draft onto their server.” He handed the Secretary the paper. Conrad’s eyes widened as he read. He seemed to pale. “This is scandalous, it’s libelous, it’s untrue lies.”

“Sir?” the general asked, confused by the exchange between the civilians.

The Secretary of Defense looked down at his subordinate. “You fucked this all up. Nothing is working.”

“Don’t blame me. You gave me orders to set things up so you and your Saudi friends could get back in. Well, this was the best thing

that anyone could come up with. It doesn’t matter what the facts are, Henry, we need to invade!” Kashigian yelled at his boss. “We

just use the Big Lie. It’s worked before.”

Henry Conrad walked closer to the screen showing the image of the beaches lined with civilians, praying. “Don’t you see? There are

no nuclear weapons there. There are no Iranian invaders there.

There are no Chinese. And the chaos you promised me has turned into a fucking prayer rally! Do you think we can tell our constituency back home that we bombed a prayer rally?”

“Sir?” General Moore asked again.

“Fine, fine,” Ron Kashigian said. He turned to General Moore.

“The Secretary has decided to go ahead with the planned exercise with Egypt. But he will be returning to Washington to take care of

something that has just come up. So we need a COD flight to Cairo, where the 747 is parked.”

“Yes, sir,” the CinC replied.

“And I’ll need onward flight reservations from Cairo to Geneva for me,” Kashigian added.

“We can mount another wave, expand the beachhead,” the Iranian general said, looking up from the map.

“My brethren in Tehran say that our air force chief is refusing. He thinks his losses are already too high, unacceptable,” the cleric said, as though he were commenting on the weather.

“We can’t just leave them there,” the general insisted. “Oh, yes we can. We left many more Pasdaran and Basiji in Iraqi jails for over a decade. Many more,” the cleric said, gathering up his papers. “That war failed. So did this one. Accept it.”

“But we didn’t have nuclear weapons then,” the general said, moving to block the cleric’s exit.

“I told you the nuclears are only for defense. Not for you, Qods Force, Hezbollah, or anyone else,” the cleric explained. “If a nuclear weapon goes off in the United States, they will not hesitate to incinerate our entire country, and Korea, too, just for good measure.

“General, you must look at a longer time horizon. In 1986, we ended the war with Iraq without victory. By 2006, we had won, thanks to you and others. And we won without arms. We let the Americans do the dying for us. This operation today was too direct, too overt. Not subtle. But don’t worry, General, we will prevail. I have another plan. We will discuss it in Tehran. Join me there in a few days, after all of this… has been cleaned up.

“The long view, General.” The cleric glanced at the map, then back up at him. “Our day will come.”

“My word, she knew a lot of people,” Brian Douglas observed to Rusty as the two emerged from the memorial for Kate Delmarco.

“Well, a lot of those in attendance were reporters. That was one hell of a job of reporting. It took smarts and guts,” Rusty MacIntyre

said, walking down the stairs. “And it may have taken her life.” He thought of their night together, her smile, her scent — and guilt rolled over him. Had he been responsible?

“Oh, come on, don’t start that again. You saw the autopsy report, even though you probably had no right to. She had a heart attack, Rusty,” Sol Rubenstein added as he caught up with them.

“Ray Keller, her editor, doesn’t think so. He has three reporters on it,” MacIntyre told his boss. “He’s trying to get the FBI to look into it.” And I’ll make sure they do, he said to himself.

“Good luck to them and the Mets,” Rubenstein retorted. “You just should be glad that your own FBI thing is going away, now that it looks like Dr. Rashid is no terrorist — more like the next president of Islamyah.”

“He’s invited me back,” Rusty reported. “Ahmed is going to run in the national election.”

“And you’re going when?” Rubenstein asked.

“No time soon, boss.” he said. “Brian here is en route to a sailing vacation out of Virgin Gorda and he needs a crewmate. So, with your permission…”

Rubenstein laughed. “Oh, I suppose for averting a major war you two probably deserve a week off. Although I am not sure how Sir Dennis will view the two of you bonding, turning into some kind of Anglo-American version of I Spy.”

“I expect he’ll have to get used to it,” Brian said, grinning. “It’s his fault anyway. He introduced us.”

As they walked down the street toward Columbus Circle, Rubenstein asked in a fatherly way, “So, how’s Sarah? She going along to Virgin’s Girdle, too?”

Rusty looked across the street at the park and then back at Rubenstein. “No. No, she’s not. Sarah is saving Somaliland for ninety days.”

Rubenstein looked disappointed, not surprised. He started to say something, but the expression on Rusty’s face…No, better to leave it alone.

At the end of the park, they turned into the Time Warner Center, where they were due to have their delayed celebratory lunch. A television was showing CNN in the lobby.

“Hey, look at this. The President is holding a press conference,” Rubenstein said, walking over to the screen. As they approached, they could hear the audio:

“… will decide which of these unproven allegations should be looked into, but while the Attorney General is doing that, I just want to say that we are blessed to have Henry Conrad in public service. His Reconfig Program is changing the armed forces and saving the taxpayers billions of dollars. He has rebuilt bridges to our critical allies around the world, something that was very clear to me recently at the Asia Pacific summit. It was in Chile, Santiago…

“Look, the bottom line is that Henry Conrad is the best Secretary of Defense we have ever had. Now, what was the second part of your question…?”

“Unbelievable,” said MacIntyre.

“Best we ever had, huh?” said Rubenstein.

“I wonder if they serve Balvenie here?” said Douglas, and walked past the television into the restaurant.

The President was still talking.

Rusty looked out at Central Park, at the leafless trees, and thought of Kate, of Abdullah, of all those who had died so needlessly. And he promised them that he would fight back.