Russell Moran - A Climate of Doubt

Deputy Foreign Minister Hamid Rashadi stood by the window in his office looking out at the gathering blizzard. Seventy degrees Fahrenheit would be a normal temperature in Tehran in the month of September, but his city was blanketed in snow and bitterly cold at 19 degrees. He wore a heavy sweater and a scarf. Although his office was heated, the system was designed for brief winter chills, not below freezing temperatures.

“Minister Ramin Abbasi is here for his appointment with you, sir,” Rashadi’s assistant said. Rashadi quickly walked to the door and opened it.

“It’s wonderful to see you, my friend,” he said as he wrapped Abbasi in a bear hug. “It’s been too long. In our brief phone conversation, you said that you had some information about this damnable weather. Please have a seat while my assistant brings us some tea—hot tea.

His assistant walked in with a tray of tea and fruit snacks. Rashadi opened the drawer under the coffee table and pulled out a bottle of French Cognac.

“One of the many secrets you and I keep,” Rashadi said as he poured Cognac into Abbasi’s cup. “So, tell me Ramin, what are your thoughts on the weather, and please don’t tell me that it’s snowing.”

Abbasi chuckled at Rashadi’s wisecrack.

“As you know, my friend,” Rashadi continued before Abbasi could respond, “this godforsaken weather is destroying our country. Not only is it killing our crops, but it’s ruining our economy because the snowdrifts prevent us from conducting normal commerce. And people are dying because there’s no way for them to get to a hospital in an emergency. Never did we think to store snow-plowing equipment because we thought we would never need it. Your message said that you had something urgent to talk to me about, Ramin. Don’t keep your old friend waiting. What is it?”

“Hamid, I think I just may have the most important intelligence I’ve ever gathered. I found this out on my recent trip to the United Nations in New York. Sometimes the Americans can be completely open with their loose lips. It concerns our guests a few miles from here, Bartholomew Martin, the former President of the United States, and his group, the Reformers.”

“Whenever you visit the United States, Ramin, you come back with wonderful information. So, what did you find out about Bartholomew Martin and his group?”

“Hamid, you may want to take another sip of Cognac before I tell you what I’ve learned. To get right to the point, I have solid evidence, based on many conversations with the talkative Americans, that Bartholomew Martin is controlling the weather. Yes, the speculation that the weather is caused by an intentional act is true.”

“Dear God, Ramin, how can that be true? How can Bartholomew Martin control the weather from a desolate region of our country?”

“He doesn’t control it from here, but from the American West, a place called Billings, Montana, the city where the huge Rosetta Corporation is located. Rosetta owns and controls Moonwalker , the American space station, and an array of 20 satellites with solar panels. Martin controls the weather by rotating the panels to direct the sun’s rays back into space, plunging the earth into a deep freeze along with snow. Martin arranged for the assassination of Mr. Frank Morgan, the founder and CEO of Rosetta. In Morgan’s place he arranged for the elevation to CEO of Phillip Duncan, a former vice president of the company. Duncan is a stooge in Martin’s pocket, and is one of his key allies, if not his most key ally. You will recall, Hamid, that Stargazer , Rosetta’s space station before Moonwalker , was destroyed. The new space station is manned by two astronauts who are in the employ of Bartholomew Martin.”

Rashadi stared at his friend wide-eyed. He poured them both another splash of Cognac.

“And the Americans are aware of this? Why haven’t they put a stop to it? The horrible weather impacts North America just like the rest of the world. It’s hard to imagine that the American government would tolerate something that occurs within its own borders.”

“They did try to use force to stop them, Hamid. You will recall that the Americans launched a gigantic military operation against the Reformer compound in Kurdistan. They started with saturation bombing runs reminiscent of World War II. After bombing every inch of the compound, they launched an armor-led infantry attack. But, as we know, they found the compound empty. The Reformers made a daring high-speed escape to Iran after securing our permission. Martin wisely thought that his group would be safe within the borders of America’s enemy.”

“As you know, Ramin, and of course what I’m about to say remains between us, but I have long thought that we picked the wrong enemy. The Americans may be clumsy bullies at times, but the Great Satan can also be a great friend. Instead, we support Islamic terror around the world. And now we give harbor to Bartholomew Martin and his group of mad men, for the only reason that he is an enemy of the United States. This is insanity, Ramin.”

“Yes, Hamid, it is insane, and now we have a new piece of insanity to deal with—Bartholomew Martin’s control of the weather. In one of the few times in history, Iran and the United States share a common enemy.”

“My friend, I always value your wisdom and ideas. What do you propose we do with our dangerous guests?”

“I recommend a direct approach, Hamid. We should arrange for an emissary, perhaps yourself, to meet with Bartholomew Martin personally, and let him know that we’ve discovered his weather secrets. Order, not request, but order him to manipulate the satellites to reverse the destructive weather. Our country, with its small agricultural output, cannot tolerate having our few crops destroyed by freezing temperatures.”

“How do you think Martin will react, Ramin?”

“I suggest that we control his reaction with an ultimatum. Either he reverses the satellites, or we will destroy him and his followers. Because his compound is in a desolate area of our country, you may want to suggest that we will drop a nuclear weapon on his compound. He doesn’t know that we have yet to produce a nuclear bomb.”

“I’m going to make an appointment to speak to Supreme Leader Khamenei. It won’t be easy. His religious fanaticism often clouds his judgment. I’m sure he will resist the idea of attacking an enemy of the United States. I must impress upon him that Bartholomew Martin is as much our enemy as he is an enemy of the Americans. Khamenei loves intrigue and imagines himself a clever negotiator. Maybe I should suggest to him that we can use our actions as leverage to convince the United States to remove the crippling sanctions against us.”

“Do you think the Supreme Leader will want the Americans to renew the nuclear weapons accord so we can develop our nuclear capability?” Abbasi said.

“Allah forbid he take such a ridiculous stance. President Blake is, in my opinion, not only a good and honorable man, but a ruthless leader when he wants to be. I think that Blake will chose to attack Martin’s compound, therefore declaring war with Iran, rather than allow us to build a nuclear weapon. You and I know, Ramin, that a war with America will mean the end of Iran. If only Khamenei would admit that to himself.”

“Like you, Hamid, I’m not an overly religious man, but I pray to Allah that someday we will see you as the leader of our country.”

“Let’s us not get ahead of ourselves, Ramin. I’m going to make an appointment to see the Supreme Leader, and I want you with me to answer his questions. We need to move fast. Each day of this imposed winter plunges us further into darkness.”