Vince Flynn - Protect And Defend

The president looked over at Kennedy. “I know I’ve asked this, but is it possible that the Israelis have developed their own stealth plane?”

“Highly unlikely.”

“But possible.”

Rapp waved his hands in front of him, signifying not to go down that road. “The Israelis don’t have the money to develop a plane like that, and even if they did, there’s still one other piece of evidence that points to an inside job. When you get back to Washington, Secretary England is going to give you a bomb damage assessment report from the Pentagon. I haven’t seen it, but I know what it’s going to say.”

“How?”

“Because I’ve been there. I’ve been in the field marking targets for these flyboys when they drop their bunker-busters. I’ve crawled down into a few of those command and control centers after they’ve been hit, and they don’t look like the satellite photos we’ve seen of this place. Holes are made, parts of floors and ceilings collapse, and everything inside is charred, but it doesn’t look like the earth opened up and swallowed the whole damn building.”

“Then what was it?”

“They had some people on the inside and they’ve probably had them there for some time. They were able to move unnoticed, place the charges, and blow the building. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

The president swiveled his chair and thought about what he’d heard. After a long moment he looked up and said, “What does it really matter if the Israelis destroyed it by air or by any other means? In the end they are still the ones who destroyed it.”

Rapp smiled. “It matters because it gives us an opportunity to create an alternative truth and make the Iranians look like they are lying to their own people and the world.”

The president was speechless for a second. He looked at Kennedy briefly and then back at Rapp. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Neither do I,” Kennedy added.

“Have you ever heard of a group called the People’s Mujahedin of Iran? The PMOI? They’re a group that falls loosely under the control of the National Council of Resistance of Iran. It’s made up of dissidents of all different stripes. They live mostly in Europe. They’re scientists, teachers, artists…pretty much anyone who felt repressed by the clerics and decided to leave. They were around during the revolution back in seventy-nine and then found out they weren’t welcome at the table after the shah fled. In 1981 hundreds of their top members were rounded up and taken to Evin Prison, where Khomeini had them shot. The PMOI is also referred to as the MEK. These guys have been our saving grace in Northern Iraq. Every time the Sunnis get out of line or the Iranians send one of their Badr Brigades into the area to cause trouble, we call in the MEK and they make the problem go away.”

“Aren’t they on a terrorist list?” the president asked.

“Bad move by the previous administration. They thought they could get some brownie points with Iran, which was foolish, but now’s not the time to get into it. The important thing is that the MEK has become a force to be reckoned with. There are a few reasons why Mosul is far more peaceful than Baghdad or Basra, and one of the biggest ones is the MEK. The Iranian government hates these guys with a passion, and MEK suffers no lost love for the hard-line clerics.”

“So how do they figure into the current crisis?”

“They don’t,” Rapp said with a grin, “but we’re going to make them part of it.”

Ashani felt as if he had been sucked into some alternate universe where up was down and down was up. It was one thing to put on a brave face and plot a proper course of retribution, but this was simply nonsense. The man who had put them in this tenuous position was yet again going to be the chief propagandist in the next phase of the conflict. The last thing they needed was more inflamed rhetoric and promises of grand retribution. The council needed a reality check. Under normal circumstances Ashani would have never thought of confronting Amatullah in front of the Supreme Leader, but it was different now. Something had changed within him, and he had no doubt it was precipitated by his close brush with death earlier in the day.

He had always known Amatullah was perhaps the most reckless and arrogant man in the government. His inflammatory words more than anything else were what had gotten them into this national crisis. There was no limit to the man’s ability to delude himself and others. He was incapable of understanding the obvious. Iran ’s nuclear program was in shambles. Literally, not a speck of equipment was salvageable. All of their intelligence estimates told them that Israel had in excess of one hundred nuclear devices and America had so many they spent hundreds of millions of dollars decommissioning old ones. The idea that they could bring utter devastation to either country was simply ludicrous.

Emboldened by his near-death experience, Ashani looked at the diminutive leader and asked, “And just how are we going to destroy them?”

“What?” Amatullah was caught off guard by the question.

“I said, how are going to destroy them?” he asked with a slight edge.

“We will launch wave after wave of martyrs. We will target their infrastructure. We will bring their economy to its knees.” Amatullah dismissed his intelligence boss with an irritating frown.

Ashani was not to be deterred. “The 9/11 attacks were nothing more than a twenty-four-hour flu for their economy. They bounced back even stronger than before.”

“We will make 9/11 seem like it was nothing.”

Ashani gave Amatullah a doubtful look. “And you think the Americans will sit there and take it?”

“Yes. They cannot afford to go to war with us. They have learned their lesson in Iraq.”

“What if you’re wrong? Suppose they are willing to go to war with us. According to you, they are behind this attack which by de facto means they are willing to risk open war.”

“Never.” Amatullah shook his head vigorously. “That is why they had Israel drop the bombs. They themselves did not have the courage to confront us.”

The man’s absolute confidence in his ability to predict what the Americans would do was unnerving. Ashani turned and looked at the Supreme Leader. “Mark my words. If we push the Americans too far, they will strike back.”

“They will never invade,” Amatullah said dismissively.

“I did not say they would invade. They will drop bombs, and plenty of them.”

Amatullah scoffed at the threat. “And we will hit them everywhere. Not just in America, but all over the world. We will bring their aviation industry to its knees. We will disrupt oil flow and their economy will collapse.”

Ashani shook his head sadly. “Escalation will lead to escalation. They will rain bombs down on us like nothing we have ever seen. Mark my words, they will destroy our entire air force on the first day, and then they will turn their sights on us.” Ashani paused to look around the room, letting each man know that this time their own hides might be on the line. “It will take time for our martyrs to strike, and their success is not guaranteed. The Americans, on the other hand, have us surrounded. They have bases in Iraq and Afghanistan, and they have two aircraft carriers in the gulf. If war starts, they will send a third and maybe even a fourth and fifth carrier.”

“Good,” Amatullah proclaimed. “Let them pack all of their vaunted carriers into the gulf, where they will be that much easier to sink.” He leaned forward and pointed at himself. “We control the Strait of Hormuz. Not them.”

“You underestimate the Americans if you think they are dumb enough to put five carriers in the gulf. They will move their marine and navy air units to Qatar, the UAE, or Bahrain. They will have us surrounded on three sides.”