The Third World War: A Terrifying Novel of Global Conflict

23

Qureshi stepped across the threshold, finding his hand grasped by Najeeb Hussain, and hearing the rumble of outdated air conditioning in the silence which only military discipline could ever instil in Pakistan. Behind Hussain was Admiral Javed Mohmand, commander of the navy, a long, sinewy man, his hands rubbing together in front of him, his eyes blinking and wide, as if Qureshi was an apparition from the heavens. Next to him was General Zaid Musa, taller but more muscular than Hussain, smiling and welcoming, but his face a little too sincere, given that he and Qureshi had violently disagreed in the past.

As Qureshi moved down the line, shaking hands, squeezing elbows, patting shoulders, he understood how, at the precise moment of a military takeover, power was reversed. Momentarily it was being held by the men who greeted him. But when he reached the end of the line, Hussain ushered him through a door into a briefing room. Inside was a group of officers from all services, who, if he got it wrong, would be the ones to overthrow and possibly execute him.

Hussain moved slightly ahead of Qureshi and lightly held the back of a chair. 'We are military men, so I will not spend time on flowery words,' he said. 'As you may have heard, Vice-President Zafar has been taken ill with heart problems. This morning he left for medical treatment in Dubai.' Hussain paused as a barely detectable ripple of mirth spread through the audience.

'The new President of Pakistan is Air Vice-Marshal Qureshi. All of you know him, either personally or through his formidable reputation as a leader. We have chosen him because of his military record, his dedication to our missile and nuclear programmes and his determination to see our vision come to fruition. President Qureshi has, within the past hour, arrived back in Pakistan from China. He has also been in North Korea, which, as you know, has undergone a similar change of government as here.' Hussain let go the chair, clapped his hands together and stepped to one side. 'So without further ado, gentlemen, I present to you the President of Pakistan.'

Qureshi walked to the centre of a small dais in front of a blank, grubby white screen pulled down from the low ceiling. The room served both as a briefing area and a mess room. The central area was taken up with classroom-style desks and chairs. Around the sides were old sofas, armchairs and coffee tables, marked with cigarette burns. The badly circulated air smelt of stale tobacco. On the walls were a mix of posters and maps, some with Islamic slogans, some with military slogans. There were several montages of regiments on the front line in Kashmir and ships' crews out on exercise in the Indian Ocean.

He cast his eyes over his audience. These were the officers who still ran ships, submarines, aircraft, artillery and tanks. They knew where the fuel, the ammunition and the missiles were stored. They had the keys to warehouses. They commanded men in battle. They were colonels, squadron leaders and warship captains. Without their support the generals could not have acted as they did. What Qureshi once was, they were now, and as they sat, some with notebooks like students in a classroom, their expressions were not of the sycophancy and congratulations that had greeted Qureshi outside the lift but of judgement.

But how much did they know? Were they aware of the new missile arsenals under separate command and control structures assembled at five different sites in the country? Did they know that North Korea was now assembling a Pakistani tactical nuclear weapon to use, if necessary, against the United States on the Pacific front? Did they know that it was he, Qureshi, who had devised the assassination of President Khan and called in a favour from al-Qaida to carry it out?

'This room's a dump,' said Qureshi bluntly, putting his cap on the desk in front of him. 'As soon as I'm done, it will be cleared up, repainted and the air conditioning will be fixed.' He offered no charm, no courtesy. He stared down his audience, his eyes blazing with the irritation, until suddenly, a mask of change rippled across his face.

'My parents come from Delhi,' he continued, more softly. 'It was touch and go as to whether they would abandon their home at Partition and move to Pakistan. Or whether they would stay as part of the Muslim elite in a secular India. If they had, I might have become an Air Vice-Marshal in the Indian air force, priming the airborne Agni missile for launches against Pakistan. Such is the knife-edge of this damned situation we find ourselves in.'

He noticed the glances across the room, his analogy bringing flashes of doubt to the younger men's faces. 'I lost my family home in India and we endured the trauma of Partition in order to pursue a vision. It has been a long and troubled journey. But I have never—' he paused, using silence to underline his point. When he took up again he dropped his voice: 'I have never forgotten why my parents made that sacrifice. I am here with you today to ensure we finish it.'

He watched faces, challenging them to challenge him. But there was quiet. 'I trust that each of you knows why you are here today. I trust that when you tell your children and your grandchildren about the path we are about to pursue you can do so with your heads held high and that you can speak without shame or excuses.' He walked to one side of the room, turned on his heel and walked back, preparing his next line. 'Let me share with you what I hope to tell the next generation. That Pakistan was created as an Islamic state. For sixty years, it has dithered. Democracy creates tribalism and corruption because voters are loyal to their clan and money is needed to oil the machine of electioneering. But military rule destroys the imagination of the people. Science, arts, the ingredients of a great civilization cannot flourish from the barrel of a gun. This has been our dilemma, and this is what you and I are now going to solve. When you return to your commands bear in mind the great responsibility you have taken on by being with me today in this room.'