It was now Reza’s turn to hesitate.
“Very well. Make the preparations you described. But the explosives are not to be detonated without my personal order. That means even if you, or whoever you select to carry out your orders while you are in Qatar, thinks it would be the best option.”
Bijan nodded. “Understood. And I agree, it would be best if we could secure your election as Supreme Leader with the current membership of the Assembly of Experts. I remain optimistic that our plan will achieve that goal.”
Reza simply nodded, and Bijan strode out of the office, and on to Qatar to begin the first stage of the plan.
Reza sighed, and looked unseeing at the papers on his desk. After so much effort and preparation, now they would finally see whether the plan to remove the Saudi royal family would work.
Chapter Eight
Guardian Colonel Bijan Turani was out of uniform for the first time in many years. As the supposed construction manager in charge of finishing the Salwa Beach Resort, he was dressed in the khakis and polo shirt he’d been told would be typical for the job. Now, he had to get the Pakistani foreman of the construction crew he’d hired moving without arousing his suspicions. All while praying that the resort’s real owners didn’t hear about all the new activity at Salwa before it was too late to stop him.
The truth was, he’d been lucky to get Fuad Siddiqi. Competent foremen were in high demand in Doha’s busy construction industry, and few were eager to leave the capital for a site without amenities for many kilometers in any direction.
Fortunately Fuad, or more precisely his family in Pakistan, needed the money. His first month’s salary had been paid up front, and a generous bonus promised for on-time completion. Fuad had rounded up construction material, hired a crew, and was ready to start when Bijan arrived. He was bald, but sported a mustache and beard that seemed to be trying to make up for it.
As soon as he spotted Fuad, which was easy due to the crowd of workers listening to his shouted orders, Bijan pushed his way forward until he was standing in front of him. Bijan thrust his hand forward and said simply, “Bijan.”
His hand was quickly enveloped by one covered with calluses from a lifetime of hard work. The power that went with its grip was not challenging, simply a reflection of the sturdy muscular frame of the man behind it.
“Good to meet the manager. I understand that after this resort has been left to sit in the sun for years you’re finally going to finish it,” Fuad said with a smile.
Bijan nodded. “Yes. Getting these two warehouses up so we can store the construction materials we’ll need is my first priority.” Waving his right hand at the pile of prefabricated components laying on the sand, he added, “I see you’ve already got the warehouse materials unloaded. You’ve got the blueprints, right?”
Fuad frowned, “Yes, but one point I wanted to check with you. There are no roof components among these materials, or shown on the blueprints.
Instead, we’ve got blue plastic sheeting we’re supposed to put in place of a roof. Which will work fine to keep out dust and insects.”
Bijan nodded calmly. “Correct.”
Fuad’s frown deepened, and Bijan thought to himself that the absence of hair on his head made the frown seem to go higher. Probably his imagination.
“OK, I’m sure you know like everywhere on the Peninsula it doesn’t rain much. But it does rain sometimes. If it does in any quantity, this plastic sheeting is going to collapse and dump rainwater all over the contents of these warehouses. I know that this sort of storage method has been used before here, and that warehouses this large had to cost quite a bit. But it won’t cost much more to add the roof components, and my crew can have the roofs added in just a couple of extra days.”
Bijan nodded as though he were seriously considering Fuad’s arguments.
“I will talk to the owners and pass on your concerns. I’m sure you understand that I’ll need their approval to spend the extra money. Frankly, I had the same thought and have already checked the weather report for the next ten days.
Fortunately, it shows clear skies ahead. I’m glad to hear you say that the roofs can be added in just a couple of days if that changes.”
Fuad looked relieved. “Yes, that’s right. I’m glad you’re willing to think about my advice. I always want the bosses to be happy, and soaked construction materials are a sure way to slow down the finish time for this project.”
Bijan smiled. “And that wouldn’t help your chances of getting that on-time completion bonus, would it?”
Fuad smiled back. “No sir, it would not.”
Bijan nodded. “So, how long to finish the two warehouse buildings based on the blueprints as they stand?”
Fuad shrugged. “The components are all prefab, so my crew should have no trouble getting them done in the three days you asked for, as long as you don’t have any side projects in the meantime.”
Bijan laughed. “Spoken like an experienced foreman. No, you’ll get no surprises from me. Just get the warehouses up, and then we’ll get the materials we need to start on finishing up the resort stored away.”
Fuad nodded. “Very good, sir. I’ll get the crew started.” With that, he walked to where the crew was sitting around two plastic tarps stretched out on the sand and held down with rocks, makeshift tablecloths for an outdoor breakfast. As Fuad explained what they would be doing to the crew, Bijan smiled with satisfaction. Now, if everything else just went this smoothly…
Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Vahid Turani was one of the very few members of the Iranian clergy to have contacts within the regular Iranian military. There was a reason a large and well-armed parallel military answerable only to the clergy had been set up after the Iranian Revolution. That was the Shah’s use of the regular military to successfully suppress dissent for years, until the Iranian people were finally willing to face machine guns in crowds numbering tens of thousands to defy them.
Vahid smiled as Colonel Arif Shahin was escorted into his office by his secretary, who quickly left. Arif was in command of a tank regiment stationed near Tehran, which meant he was considered reliable by both the Iranian military and the Pasdaran, who would have never allowed a military commander they suspected near the capital.
“Arif, it’s good to see you! Please, we must have some tea.” Vahid said, gesturing towards a low table surrounded by comfortable chairs, where tea and cookies were already waiting.
There was only one possible answer to that invitation, though Vahid could see Arif was anxious to begin speaking immediately about something important. With a sharp nod, Arif sat in the indicated seat, and visibly willed himself to relax as Vahid poured tea.
Arif took the offered glass and sighed as he inhaled the tea’s fragrance. “I must remember, we have ancient customs for a reason.”
Vahid laughed. “Indeed we do. Now, tell me what brings you here with such urgency.”
Arif set his glass down and frowned. “First, I have to say I wish I had more to tell you. Much of what I’ve learned is incomplete, and I’m not sure what action we can take to stop whatever’s happening. But, here’s what I know so far.”
Arif spent half an hour explaining what he and his men had discovered.
Vahid listened intently, and once Arif had finished shook his head. "Very well," he said. "Let me sum up what you've told me. Reza Fagheh and his allies in the Pasdaran plan to attack Saudi Arabia, and their plot includes at least one nuclear weapon and the Qataris. We don't know exactly how or when this attack will take place, but we believe it will be soon. Reza is doing this because he thinks it will provoke a rebellion against the Saudi royal family's rule, and that if he can claim credit for sidelining our main rival for influence in the Gulf, he will be elected Supreme Leader."