Reza scowled. “It will take the Saudis no more than a few minutes to set their fighters on this helicopter once it fails to land at the oilfield. Unless you want me to believe that the Saudis don’t have an air patrol over their capital, and the best radar coverage possible for many kilometers around it."
Bijan nodded. “I agree that the Chinook will be detected and attacked before it reaches Riyadh, but I think it will take more than a few minutes.
Flying low will make it difficult to detect, and a senior commander will have to authorize an attack on a previously cleared flight. Also, some attempt to communicate will be made before fighters are cleared to engage, and the pilot will claim navigation failure once contacted. We estimate ten or even fifteen minutes will be needed before the Chinook is actually under attack.”
Reza grunted sourly. “So, the helicopter will be shot down with Riyadh on the horizon. I think that will be scant consolation for its crew.”
Bijan laughed, and shook his head. “I would have never wasted your time if we had no plan for the Chinook’s survival. I’m sure you recall the pair of J-20 fighters I asked you to obtain for us from the Chinese last year.”
Now Reza’s scowl was back, and deeper than ever. “I was going to ask you about that. The Chinese demanded over a billion dollars worth of oil in barter for those planes, and more on top of that for the trainers and equipment you told me would be necessary to get them flying with our pilots. Plus a bribe for the Chinese officials authorizing the sale. Keeping them a secret has also been difficult and expensive. Yet so far we’ve made no use of…”
Reza’s voice trailed off as realization hit him. “These Chinese planes will protect the helicopter and the weapon it carries! Are we ready? Can these planes really succeed against the Saudis? Surely, they will have their best planes and pilots protecting the capital.”
Bijan nodded. “I think the J-20s can succeed. We only have to keep the Saudi fighters off the Chinook for ten minutes or so. The J-20s will be difficult to hit for the same reason I am confident they can make it across Saudi airspace without detection. They are fifth generation fighters that are nearly invisible to radar. Our radar has been unable to detect them until they are practically on top of us. The Saudis’ radar may be better, but I don’t think it’s that much better.”
Reza looked doubtful. “Don’t the Saudis have American made fighters?
Aren’t they just as good as these Chinese planes?”
Bijan shook his head. “The Americans have fifth-generation fighters, including the F-22 and F-35. They have sold none to the Saudis. The fighters they do have such as the F-15 are capable, and they could get lucky. I must repeat — there is no way to guarantee success in such an operation. All we can do is prepare as well as we can, in the time we have available. Still, I believe we will succeed.”
Reza sat mute for several moments, and Bijan started to think that the operation would be canceled.
Then Reza nodded sharply. “Continue your preparations. I will let you know when whatever nuclear weapons we have are available.”
Emir Waleed bin Hamad stood in front of a glass expanse giving him a spectacular view of Doha, a city that had been transformed over the previous generation into a modern metropolis with one and a half million inhabitants.
Though affairs of state required him to spend much of his time at the Royal Palace, the penthouse he owned at the ninety-first floor of the newly completed Dubai Towers was where he was happiest.
The Palace required an army of servants to clean and maintain, and also housed many of those responsible for arranging and executing state functions.
It had its place, but he found it difficult to think clearly in its constant buzz of activity.
This penthouse, by contrast, was almost eerily quiet. Fewer than a dozen servants and security staff were present at any one time, and were restricted to the suite’s outer rooms. No one came without being invited, including family.
Today, though, marked a rare day that Waleed did have an invited guest, his younger brother Prince Bilal bin Hamad who commanded Qatar’s army.
As Bilal knocked and without asking entered, Waleed looked enviously at his trim figure and the dark locks peeking out from his gutrah, which contrasted sharply with his portly figure and thinning hair. Well, Waleed thought, let’s see what he looks like in twenty years.
“Bilal, it’s good to see you,” Waleed said, while kissing him on both cheeks.
“Come and sit,” Waleed said, leading the way to an array of comfortable chairs arranged around a small table full of food and a large thermos of strong coffee.
A few minutes later, Bilal smiled and said, “I see you brought some of the Palace’s best cooks with you to this penthouse.”
Wailed smiled back. “Well, being the Emir should give me some privileges.”
Bilal laughed. “Indeed it should. After all, it certainly carries weighty responsibilities.”
Waleed winced. “Ouch. Even as a child you were always painfully direct.
Well, I suppose people never really change. So, straight to business?”
Bilal shrugged. “It seems there is little time to waste, particularly if we decide to join Al-Nahda in their planned attack on the Saudis.”
Waleed nodded. “Before you describe their plans, tell me what you have been able to find out about this Al-Nahda organization. Who is really behind it?”
Bilal frowned, and said, “The honest answer is I’m not sure. The name Al-Nahda is of course Arab, but that proves nothing. The man I’m talking to is certainly Iranian, but that proves even less. A better indication Iran is behind it is that he says Al-Nahda has access to nuclear weapons, and nobody else in the region who wishes the Saudis ill has been trying to produce them.”
Waleed grunted agreement. “Certainly the Pakistanis would never support an attack on the Saudis, their number one source of petroleum and provider of billions in loans and outright cash assistance. But I thought everyone, even the Israelis, believes that Iran does not yet have nuclear weapons?”
Bilal nodded. “All you say is true. I can only say that I believe it is probably the Iranians, because I can’t imagine who else it could be.”
Waleed rubbed his forehead tiredly, and Bilal could see the privileges that went with the title of Emir came at a price. “Did he say how many weapons they have?”
Bilal nodded again. “Yes. Three. However, he refused to say where they would be targeted.”
Seeing Waleed’s instantly furious expression Bilal hastily added, “However, he assured me that the weapons would not be used against a population center, and made it clear that we would not be expected to intervene until the successful use of at least one of the weapons.”
Waleed’s anger was replaced by doubt, but he finally shrugged. “At least then we know the weapons are real, and they’re not planning lunacy like a nuclear attack on Riyadh. I will have nothing to do with the mass slaughter of my fellow Muslims, no matter how evil their leaders may be. Now, I know you have been putting your training at the German Armor School in Munster to good use since we got those Leopard tanks from the Germans. Are you happy with them?”
Bilal smiled broadly and said, “Yes, I am. At first I'd thought about getting the M1A2 Abrams tanks, and I would have if the Americans had been willing to sell us the latest model with the best depleted uranium and reactive armor.
But, they weren’t. Now that I’ve actually got my hands on the Leopard 2A7+, I don’t regret that decision. They’re fine tanks, and against the M1A2 version the Saudis have, I like my chances. I'll like them even better after the camouflage netting is delivered for the last shipment of one hundred thirty-eight tanks, but if I have to I'll go into battle without it. Together with the sixty-two Leopards we already have that do have the camo netting installed, that brings us to an even two hundred Leopards.”