The Enemy Within

“What about the Saudi armed forces?” an aide asked aloud. “They’re well equipped. Can they defeat this Iranian invasion on their own if we warn them in time?”

Thorn shook his head grimly. “Not a chance! Most of the Saudi troops are deployed in the north against Iraq, around Riyadh guarding the Royal Family, or as security forces for the holy cities of Mecca and Medina. Even if they could be redeployed in time, their military value would be nil.”

The military men inside the Situation Room nodded. Saudi Arabia’s armed forces had performed reasonably well during DESERT STORMafter intensive retraining by American advisors. Since then, however, the Saudis had slipped back to their older, more slipshod methods of operation. Much of their high-tech weaponry was out of commission, awaiting repair. Once ashore, Iran’s revitalised divisions could slice through the weak Saudi Army practically without breaking stride.

“If this is all true, then clearly we must deploy our own forces to the Gulf… as a deterrent,” Austin Brookes, the Secretary of State, said. He looked horribly depressed. Thorn knew that the successful rapprochement with Iran had been one of his cherished projects. The public revelation that it had been nothing more than a ruse in an undeclared war would finish the elderly man’s career as the nation’s chief diplomat. It would also rob him of any hope of future reputation.

“We simply have no other choice.”

A medley of raised voices around the room contradicted door. Thorn recognised Jefferson T. Corbell, the administration’s political guru, from news photos The small Georgian snorted. “Well, I guess you and General Farrell won your point, Colonel. You mind telling me just who you think will lead this suicide mission?”

Thorn did not hesitate. “I will, Mr. Corbell.”

CHAPTER 23 PREPARATIONS

DECEMBER 7

Bushehr airfield.

(D MINUS 8)

General Shahrough Akhavi looked up from his cargo manifests as another C-130 Hercules touched down on Bushchr’s short main runway. The short, stout logistician turned toward the taller Air Force colonel at his side. “There are the last of your missiles, Imad.”

“Thank you, General.” The colonel smiled and nodded toward the airport perimeter. “Now, with God’s blessing and some hard work, my men and I will have all of our batteries in position by nightfall.”

Akhavi followed the younger man’s nod, squinting into the sunlight sparkling off the blue Gulf waters. There, silhouetted against the ships crowding Bushehr’s waterfront, he could just make out the low, tracked shape of an SA-6 SAM Brookes. There wasn’t time to deploy a sufficient force to Saudi Arabia. Even using the propositioned equipment stockpiled in Kuwait, it would take at least four days to put a lone mechanised brigade in the region. Additional forces would take far longer to arrive. U.S. aircraft could be on the ground at Saudi airfields in forty-eight hours but it would take far more time to move the munitions, ground crews, and spare parts required to conduct a prolonged campaign against the revamped Iranian Air Force. Once the Iranian invasion actually began, all U.S. troop movement bets were off. The ports and airfields needed by arriving American reinforcements were bound to be among Taleh’s first targets.

“Even if we had enough time, Mr. Secretary, it would be impossible for us to conceal the signs of a major military move into Saudi Arabia,” Thorn added flatly. “And that could easily trigger the very thing we are attempting to prevent an Iranian invasion. Taleh’s preparations are so advanced that he can launch his attack on virtually a moment’s notice.”

At Farrell’s quiet signal, he stood back from the lectern, listening as the discussion grew more and more heated, and more and more desperate. The level of rancor did not surprise him. Clearly, the President and his national security team were all too aware that they faced a political and military disaster. Command of the Saudi oil reserves would give Tehran a potential stranglehold over the global economy. Catapulted to status as the most powerful Islamic nation in the world, Iran would be free to smash its foes and reward its friends at will. Decades of diplomacy and the careful application of American military force would be erased in the blink of an eye. The West would face its ultimate nightmare: a powerful Islamic alliance dominated by one able and ambitious man, Amir Taleh.

He kept his eye on Sam Farrell. The head of the JSOC had a fine sense of timing and the ability to navigate smoothly through troubled political waters. Both men had agreed on the only possible course of action before the meeting began.

And both men knew the first hurdle would come in persuading their superiors to take the high-stakes gamble needed to stop Taleh’s invasion before it got off the ground.

After the futile wrangling had lasted for several minutes, he caught a tiny nod of Farrell’s head. Thorn mentally crossed his fingers. It was time to pitch his plan.