Macklin quietly nodded.
“Hell,” Prost went on, “we’ve tried to work with the Security Council. We’ve encouraged other countries to increase diplomatic and economic pressure on Iran, and we all know it’s been a pitiful failure. All it’s done is cause a tremendous backlash. The Arab nations believe that we use the ‘dual containment’ of Iraq-Iran as a way to reinforce our position as a superpower.”
Hartwell paused for his message to have an impact. “Sanctions aren’t going to solve this problem. They just provoke the power structure in Tehran and make them more intransigent. We’re going to have to stand up to Iran, like we did to Iraq in Desert Storm.”
There was a moment of hesitation while all eyes were on Prost.
“I may be wrong,” Hartwell’s voice resonated, “but I don’t think anyone else is going to dive into this snake pit with us. We’re going to have to be sensitive to our allies and our Arab friends, but in the end, we’re going to have to swim up this river alone.”
The president still hoped to come up with a less forceful way to deal with the crisis. “Before we start lobbing ordnance at the Iranians, we have to establish some form of meaningful dialogue with Tehran.”
Prost sighed heavily, betraying a dry patience. “Sir, as of two hours ago, we don’t have diplomatic representation with Iran. We can’t even muster a contact at the level of chargé d’affaires, let alone pursue critical dialogue with the foreign minister.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Macklin said with open irritation. “Brett and Dave are on their way to the Gulf, and you’re telling me that we can’t communicate with anyone in Tehran?”
“Not at the moment, sir.”
Vice-President Dave Timkey and Secretary of State Brett Shannon were en route to the Gulf to meet with members of the Gulf Cooperation Council and the assistant secretary of state for Middle East affairs. In addition, Timkey and Shannon hoped to persuade the Saudi Arabian leaders to allow U.S. Air Force aircraft stationed there to fly cover for the naval vessels in the Gulf.
“Mr. President,” Hartwell said firmly, “we’ve tried everything. We even appealed to the Russian and the French ambassadors to intervene on our behalf. They both refused, citing their strong financial ties to Iran. Israel isn’t going to get onboard either. They’re afraid of getting nuked if things go south.”
With a look of disgust on his face, Macklin stared at Prost. “Tell Tehran that the president of the United States is calling.”
Hartwell hesitated for a few seconds. “We, ah… already tried that, sir.”
“And?” Macklin prompted, his eyes narrowing.
The muscles along Hartwell’s jaw stood out in ridges. “The message was quite clear; they despise us for attempting to turn their oil industry into their Achilles’ heel. After the harangue, they pulled the plug.”
Macklin bristled, then spoke in a tight voice. “What an absolutely insane region — beyond comprehension.”
“Mr. President,” Pete Adair said hastily, “we’re clearly on a collision course with Tehran. The powers that be would like nothing better than to see you get on CNN or MSNBC and beg them to negotiate with us, especially after you’ve formally declared Iran a slum of global society.”
Macklin’s neck and face reddened, a clear signal to back off.
Adair paused to measure his words carefully. “Sir, we have to eliminate their nukes before some zealot in Tehran decides to rearrange the topography of Israel, or some other place in the neighborhood.
“And,” Adair went on, “one of those neighbors is sitting on the world’s richest oil field. Alarm bells have been ringing all over Saudi Arabia, especially after the terrorist bombings there.”
“Pete’s right,” Prost quickly added. “We all know that tensions in the region have been growing since the Gulf War, primarily because of the increased presence of our military forces, and the westernization of the region.”
“It’s an assault on traditional Arab culture,” Adair asserted. “We’re viewed as the bad guys, no question about it.”
Prost nodded in agreement. “Another factor we have to consider is the national instability facing Saudi Arabia, and the possibility of a political shake-up within the House of Saud. Between the royals’ succession issues, the disaffection in the middle class, and the passions of the Islamic puritans, the monarchy could literally collapse overnight.”
Pausing to gaze at each man, Prost continued. “Then, gentlemen, we’d have a bunch of squabbling ministates ripe for Iran and Iraq to fight over. Of course, if Iran uses their nukes, the entire Gulf region could become a huge ghost town.”
“And,” Adair quietly added, “we’ll be out one fifth of our oil imports.”
The president suddenly looked tired. “If we launch a unilateral, preemptive strike on Iran’s nuclear stockpile, they’ll unleash the terrorist factions on us — we know that. They could use crop dusters to spray chemicals all over this country and remotely activated atomizers to disperse biological agents almost anywhere.”
With a look of confidence, Pete Adair countered. ‘They’ve already threatened to terrorize us if we don’t pull our troops out of the Gulf. I’m convinced we have the capability to deal with their thugs, and we have the military muscle to keep the Strait of Hormuz open.”
“Their thugs may not respond to your deterrence calculus,” Macklin retorted, and shifted his gaze to the Air Force general. “Les, what do you think about this? I want to hear your thoughts.”
Chalmers answered without hesitation. “I agree with Secretary Adair and Mr. Prost. There’ll never be any insurance against human folly. We’re dealing with people who don’t behave rationally, at least not according to our accepted principles of logic. They’ve been accustomed to arbitrary rule for nearly 3,000 years, so I seriously doubt that Tehran — at our request — is going to peacefully destroy their nukes and become model citizens.”
Macklin glanced at Prost and Adair, then fixed the JCS chairman in his gaze. “What do you recommend?”
Chalmers spoke in a confident, clear voice, “Sir, Tehran is the real threat in the region, not Baghdad. Iran has already demonstrated their ability to launch cruise missiles from the air, sea, or land. I recommend we take away their nuclear capability, before our conventional power becomes checkmated.”
Chalmers poured himself a glass of water. “With the aid of certain Islamic fundamentalist groups, Tehran may feel that the time has come to purge the United States from the Holy Land, then destroy Israel.”
“He’s right,” Prost declared. “The Israelis have been passing out gas masks and updating their emergency kits.”
“Nuclear missiles,” Chalmers continued, “or even conventional cruise missiles, are a surefire way to take advantage of the situation and destabilize the whole peninsula. If we, or one of our allies, take a major hit, then cut and run, the fanatics in Iran will be doin’ the boogie-woogie right down Main Street, Tehran.”
The president eyed him skeptically.
“We have to consider every possibility,” Chalmers stubbornly persisted. “If Saudi Arabia is ruled by Islamic extremists, we’re going to see an oil shock that’ll dwarf the one of the seventies. But that’ll pale in comparison to the tremendous oil wealth the Islamic extremists will devote to anti-American terrorism worldwide.”
Chalmers leveled his gaze at the president. “When you consider the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction to Islamic extremists, transnational terrorism quickly emerges as our primary national security threat. It isn’t if they’ll use the weapons, it’s a question of when they’ll use them… and where.”