“We all know that the Houthis have only one source for these missiles and the warheads they carry. Us.”
Vahid said into an even deeper silence, “This is not the end of Fagheh’s crimes. Here is more.” He simply nodded to the technician.
A distant view of a mushroom cloud on the Saudi coast was quickly replaced by the view from a drone sent over the blast site. It showed the desalination plant had been utterly destroyed.
Now even the faces of Fagheh’s allies showed nothing but shock.
“This is the view from one of our own drones, which I had sent by the Iranian Air Force. This used to be one of the largest desalination plants in the world. We are responsible for the death of everyone in or near this plant.
Their only crime was producing fresh drinking water! That is how we decided to use one of our nuclear weapons.”
Into the echoing silence Vahid said, “But an even greater crime was planned,” and nodded once again to the technician.
Another mushroom cloud appeared, this one closer to the camera and in the desert. The voiceover from the person who had uploaded it to the Internet said that though it had exploded far enough from Riyadh that they believed they were safe from fallout, all power had been cut. The voiceover continued that he had to drive to Jeddah to get online to distribute the video, because all cell phone and Internet service in Riyadh was down as well.
Now it was Vahid’s turn to shout. “Can you imagine what would have happened if that bomb had made it to Riyadh? Thousands, even millions may have died. And the deaths would not stop in Saudi Arabia. Does anyone believe that their American allies would let such an act go unpunished?”
No one had anything to say.
Vahid continued, “But as evil as that crime was, for me using chemical weapons was even worse. A foolish man might claim ignorance of what a nuclear weapon could do. We all know what chemical weapons can do. Some of you in this room have lost sons to the Iraqi criminals who used them against us,” he said, looking directly at several Ayatollahs.
They were not the only ones to squirm uncomfortably.
“But even this was not enough for Fagheh. No, he has sent Pasdaran troops without authorization marching to Riyadh. And he has enlisted the Qataris in his schemes, so they have sent their tanks to Riyadh too. Did he get authorization from any of you, or the Consultative Assembly before he did any of this? No, he did not.”
Vahid nodded one final time at the technician, who put up a screen grab of the moment that the Supreme Leader was shot by the Pasdaran soldier.
“Ask yourself this question. Do you doubt for one second that the man who gave this assassin his orders was Reza Fagheh? Then ask, who gave the order for you to be moved from this building, and for everything I have shown to be concealed from you? Finally, if you didn’t do exactly what Reza Fagheh told you, including electing him as the new Supreme Leader, do you think a man who did everything I have shown you would hesitate for one second to have all of you shot?”
Vahid glared out into the silence. Not one Ayatollah was willing to respond.
“So, how can we stop this madman? And once we do, how can we avoid having our wives and children being made to pay for his crimes? There are many in America who have been waiting for a long time to strike us down, and this criminal has given them the perfect excuse.”
Vahid paused and looked out at the Assembly. “If you are all willing to trust me, I can lead us out of this disaster, and to a better future. Here is my plan…”
Guardian Colonel Bijan Turani scowled as once again he was unable to reach the Acting Supreme Leader’s office. He had been ordered to wait with his artillery unit in Doha in case pressure needed to be applied to Qatar’s Emir, but he had never thought that part of the plan made any sense. Anyone with military experience would know that his howitzers could be easily overrun by infantry within minutes, and at best would manage to fire one or two rounds.
No, Reza Fagheh was far from infallible, even if he was Acting Supreme Leader. And now he also appeared to be unreachable.
Bijan made his decision. He had been worried that the men he’d detailed to deal with the Ayatollahs at the Assembly of Experts, as well as the hospitalized Supreme Leader, would not prove up to the task. While Bijan was leading the attack on the Saudi force blockading Qatar he’d had no choice, since he couldn’t be in several places at once. Now, though, all he had to do was disobey orders. Orders he had never agreed with in the first place.
A quick check confirmed that there were three nonstop flights per day from Doha to Tehran, and each one took less than two hours to reach Tehran. That settled it, since even if Reza ordered him back to Doha he’d only have been away for a matter of hours. Plus, whatever the explanation was for his failure to reach Reza, it certainly served as a reasonable rationale for at least a temporary return.
It was nearly ten at night when the flight from Doha arrived in Tehran. As soon as he left the jetway, he saw a squad of Iranian Army soldiers.
None of them were smiling.
Their commander strode forward as soon as he saw Bijan. “Guardian Colonel Bijan Turani,” he said, more as a statement than a question. The other soldiers quickly surrounded him, and before he knew what was happening he’d been spun around, and he felt handcuffs being slapped on his wrists.
“What is the meaning of this?” Bijan roared with outrage. “I am a special advisor to Acting Supreme Leader Fagheh, and demand that you contact his office at once!”
In response, the squad’s commander slapped him hard on his right cheek.
Stunned rather than hurt, Bijan stared at him speechlessly.
The commander said, “The criminal Fagheh is already in custody. You will be tried for your role in the assassination of the Supreme Leader later this evening.”
Then the commander nodded to his deputy, and soldiers on each side of Bijan began to march him to the airport exit. Bijan noticed that the few other people visible not only gave all of them a wide berth, no one even looked in their direction.
For maybe the first time in his military career, Bijan sincerely wished he had shown no initiative, and had simply followed orders.
Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Vahid Turani strode down the prison corridor with the air of a man having a great deal to do. He did; this task was one he did from a sense of duty, not pleasure.
That’s not what the man on the other side of the bars thought. “Ah, come here to gloat, have you? I always knew you were a small and petty man.”
Reza Fagheh had been stripped of his Grand Ayatollah title, but carried himself as though he were still Acting Supreme Leader.
Well, Vahid thought, that will end soon enough.
“No, I am here to inform you of the verdict of the Assembly of Experts, which has tried you for your many crimes. You have been found guilty. The sentence is death.”
Reza shrugged. “Once you had regular Army troops drag me from my office and throw me in here, it was pretty obvious what you were up to. Well, you may find that keeping me in this hole won’t be as easy as putting me here.”
Vahid nodded. “You are speaking of your allies in the Pasdaran, such as Guardian Colonel Bijan Turani. He is in a cell not far from yours. The Pasdaran and Basij have been disbanded. Some will be offered positions in the military. Others will not.”
Now Reza looked much less assured. “Yes, and I’m sure they’ll all meekly accept that decision,” he said, trying to put as much confidence in his voice as he could.
Vahid shrugged and said, “We’ll see. Or more precisely, I will.”