Ted Halstead - The Saudi-Iranian War

Next time, Jawad swore to himself, it was going to be different.

Kazem Shirvani scowled at the knock on his door. He had almost finished preparing his afternoon tea, and did not welcome this break from routine.

“My office hours are posted on the door! Come back in half an hour!”

To his astonishment the door opened, but his annoyance changed to a smile when he saw that it was a relative rather than a student.

“Farhad, come in! Sorry not to give you a better welcome, but I had no idea you were coming! The last I heard from your father you were still in Europe.” The cocked eyebrow that accompanied his last statement told Farhad that Kazem was actually asking a question.

“Uncle, a pleasure to see you as always. I have just arrived, and in fact am seeing you even before visiting my father,” Farhad said with a broad smile.

Kazem smiled back, but it was clear Farhad’s statement had come as a real surprise.

“I was just about to have tea. I hope you will join me?” asked Kazem in a tone that made it clear he expected only one answer.

Farhad laughed. “You know I’ll say yes. You make it exactly the right way — black, hot, and plenty of sugar. Green tea and aragh — you can keep it!”

Kazem nodded and said nothing, but he was actually pleased. Aragh was a collective name for a wide variety of beverages made from flowers that in other countries would have been called herbal tea. Kazem’s reaction to its taste was similar to his hearing Iran’s nuclear weapons program had been shut down.

As he poured the tea, he asked, “Well, your father said you were at a conference in Brussels. What did you think of Belgium?”

Farhad smiled. “Quite pleasant. Excellent food, particularly the mussels. Really outstanding coffee. But none of that is why I was there.”

Kazem nodded. “Yes. How was the conference?”

Farhad paused, and was immediately annoyed with himself. If he didn’t trust his uncle, he should have never made this trip back to Iran. Besides, without his help the plan would be over before it began.

“I actually wasn’t at a conference. I was meeting someone who agrees with our view that Iran needs to take its rightful place in the Middle East. And in particular, that we should have custody of the two holy places.”

Kazem’s eyebrows flew upwards, and he said, “Well, yes, you were right to say ‘our view’. But while you were speaking with this mysterious friend, you should have included our views on world peace and the immediate reversal of global warming. An end to world hunger would be nice too,” he added tartly.

Farhad just smiled. “Uncle, believe me when I say that I was initially just as skeptical. However, my friend and the organization he represents have the resources to make this plan a reality.”

Kazem nodded. “Let me guess. This is where I come in.”

Farhad laughed. “I’m not asking you to do anything. First, I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

Kazem shrugged. “Ask your questions. I’ll even promise that all my answers will be true. If I don’t think you should know something, I’ll simply refuse to answer.”

Farhad nodded. “Fair enough. You told me the last time we talked that one reason you thought ending our nuclear weapons program was a mistake was that we’d made more progress than anyone knew. Did we succeed in building a nuclear weapon?”

Kazem hesitated, and then nodded.

Farhad nodded back, and said, “Good, good. Did we make more than one?“

Kazem scowled, and this time Farhad thought he wouldn’t answer. Finally, though, he nodded sharply.

Now Farhad leaned forward. “Uncle, how many do we have?”

Kazem shook himself like a man coming out of a trance. “Before I say anything else, I want to know what you’re planning, and who else is involved. You’re not going to attack Mecca and Medina, are you?”

Farhad didn’t have to feign his shock. “Certainly not! That would be insane and a sacrilege.”

Kazem leaned back in relief. “Good. I would not relish having to tell my brother that his son had taken leave of his senses.” Then his eyes narrowed.

“So, what exactly do you propose?”

Once Farhad had outlined the plan to attack the Saudi oil reserves and its two largest desalination plants, followed by an attack with armored forces on

Riyadh, he could see that Kazem was thinking intently.

“So, your plan would require three nuclear weapons,” Kazem said.

Farhad nodded. “Yes. The two desalination plants are both on the Saudis’ Persian Gulf coast, but they are about a hundred kilometers apart. I’m not an expert, but I don’t think a single weapon could destroy both.”

Kazem nodded back. “Correct, these are weapons, not magic. Even a thermonuclear weapon would not destroy them both, and we only have fission devices. As it happens, we have three.”

A smile slowly spread across Farhad’s face. “Uncle, surely this is a sign from God! To have exactly the tools we need to carry out his will…”

Kazem made a sharp cutting motion with his hand. “God helps those who help themselves.” It was one of the very few things he had heard while he was in the US, outside a nuclear physics classroom, that he agreed with completely.

“We have only tested these devices in computer simulations. All of them were rated as over fifty percent likely to work. But none of them made it to the ninety-five percent or better threshold we were aiming for, and all of the simulations assumed there were no mistakes in the manufacture of weapons components or assembly. All three are different designs. Oh, and our simulation software was provided by the North Koreans.”

Farhad winced, and Kazem smiled thinly. “Exactly. So, God may indeed be on our side. Or, as we have seen so often, he may be showing us again that he has a sense of humor.”

Farhad nodded. “I understand, uncle. I will… restrain my enthusiasm. I know we are only at the beginning of a long road.” Now Farhad leaned forward again. “Can you access the weapons?”

Kazem scowled, but slowly nodded. “They require periodic maintenance, and I am one of the few people authorized to go anywhere near them. In fact, I am one of the few people who know they exist.”

Farhad smiled. “Excellent! Will it be possible to move them?”

Kazem frowned and looked at his watch. “My office hours are about to begin, and if I’m even going to think about being involved in something like this a break in routine is the last thing I need. My wife will be visiting her sister later this evening. Come to see me at the house at about eight o’clock. And be ready to answer questions about your friend and his organization.”

“Yes, uncle. Absolutely!” His eyes shining, Farhad jumped up and left Kazem’s office, nearly knocking over a student who had just been reaching his hand forward to knock on the door.

Kazem shook his head as he watched him go. Was this really what all the years of work and study had been for?

Neda Rhahbar had been really proud of her most recent plan. She really hated living as a woman in Iran, but escape had seemed impossible. Her family was solidly middle-class and completely traditional, even though most Iranians living in Tehran were not quite as conservative as those outside the capital. Even if her parents had not been deeply religious, they would have never allowed her to leave Iran.

Her first plan had been to go to university overseas, marry a Westerner and never come back. Her parents had been smart enough not to simply say no to study outside Iran. Instead, they pointed out that the tuition for such study would be more than they could afford, and that she would not be admitted unless she learned a foreign language and radically improved her grades.