Weapons of Mass Deception

CHAPTER 44

The long-awaited press conference from Tel Aviv was a carefully orchestrated event. They had negotiated all the previous day, through the night, and into the next day. The people on the stage looked like it.

Prime Minister Netanyahu led off the press conference, his voice raspy with exhaustion, but with what might pass for a smile on his square features. He yielded the podium to the Iranian President, who took a moment to gather his notes before he looked into the cameras. The paper shuffle was an old trick of his, Reza knew, to project a sense of slight disorganization and build a tinge of empathy with his audience. When he looked up and smiled, he was wearing his best stern grandfather face.

“Today we have made an historic movement toward peace and stability in our region. If Israel and Iran — two supposedly mortal enemies — can agree on terms to make this region a safer place, then together we can achieve anything. My country has never desired nuclear weapons, and has never had nuclear weapons. Our nuclear aspirations have always been for peaceful purposes. This accord, which will be signed by all parties in Helsinki on Monday, September fifth, of this year, will prove to the world that Iran is a peaceful nation dedicated to the prosperity of our people.”

The US Secretary of State represented the P5+1 nations. Of the three speakers, he looked the freshest, his long face split by a genuine smile. A smile of relief that his deception of the Israelis has not come to light, Reza thought. The Americans had taken a massive gamble that had paid off — so far. With the US elections only a few months away, the outgoing President needed a win, a big win, for his party. In one fell swoop, he could bring stability to the Middle East and set his Republican opposition back on their heels. With Israel on his side, the Congress would not dare cross him. It was a bulletproof plan — as long as Reza did his part.

Aban had given him little to work with. There was another weapon, he was sure of that much, and it had gone to Hezbollah, to a half brother that Aban had never met. All he had was a name: Rafiq Roshed. A quick search of the Iranian Hezbollah files yielded nothing. If Rafiq even existed, he was off the grid.

Reza considered the possibility that Aban was lying, trying to string him along with new information. For now, he kept the ayatollah under house arrest while he looked into this Rafiq character.

The secure phone on his desk buzzed and he picked it up. He listened for the three-tone signal and the green light that told him the line was secure. “Congratulations, Mr. President. A great victory, sir.”

“One that was nearly undone by my own people,” came the reply. The mellow, grandfatherly tones of the press conference were gone, replaced by a harsh sharpness.

Even on a secure line, they hesitated to speak openly. Rouhani paused as he chose his words carefully. “Our friends are in town now, and they picked up three packages, including the damaged one. They’ve been cleaning all day today, but should be out of the house in a few more hours. For good. Do we have any nosey neighbors back at home?”

Reza frowned and decided he meant any local backlash. “No, it’s been quiet here at home. No problems.”

“What about the traitor?”

Reza’s eyes shot up; that was a pretty clear word for anyone listening. “I have him staying at home. No need to raise the ire of his followers.”

The only response was a hiss on the line.

“Mr. President?”

“Leave him there. For now.” He paused again. “Is that all the, uh, packages? Are there more?”

Reza didn’t hesitate. Whatever happened, his job was to insulate his president from damaging information. “I have it under control, sir.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear, Reza.”

The President clicked off the TV and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. He leaned back in his chair. “Now that is what I call a good day’s work.”

Each of them — Chief of Staff, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, DNI, and National Security Advisor — responded with some variation of an appreciative chuckle and a nod.

The President threw a glance at the Chairman. “How’d we do on the ground?”

“Very well, sir. JSOC took two minor casualties in the raid. All the hostiles were taken down and three nukes recovered. It was like a Johnny Cash ‘One Piece at a Time’ operation in there. They literally stole bits and pieces of missiles for the last ten years and cobbled together three birds. The launchers, which they couldn’t steal, came from the North Koreans. We’ll strip the site and incinerate what’s left. Our team will be out of Iran by tomorrow morning.”

“And the warheads?”

The DNI answered. “They’ve been heavily modified, but initial indications are that they originated from Iraq. As far as we can tell, Rouhani’s clean.”

The President let out a low whistle. “So, Saddam Hussein really did have weapons of mass destruction? Wow — there’s a lot of people in this town who would like to have that little tidbit out in the public eye.”

The Chief of Staff cracked a rare smile. “There’s a lot of people that used to be in this town that would like that information public.” He switched to a more serious tone. “As you might expect, peace in the Middle East is polling phenomenally well. Now all we have to do is get this accord signed before the election.”

The President leaned forward. “Let’s make sure we have a complete embargo on this information — every last bit of it. A leak about what has happened in the last twenty-four hours goes beyond national security. It’s world security we’re talking about here. A leak could set back peace in the Middle East by a century. Are we clear on this point?”

He looked at the solemn faces around the table. They all nodded back at him.

“Good work, everyone. Thank you.” He stood, nodding to the Chief of Staff to stay. He walked to the window and waited until he heard the door closing before he turned around.

“I’d like you to reach out to the Speaker and the Majority Leader. Invite them over for a drink. No cameras, no post-meeting interviews, just a drink.”

“They’re going to want to know more than that, sir.”

The President paused to stare out the window.

“Tell them I want to talk about being on the right side of history.”