Jackson winced. That was the last thing he was prepared to do. Rather than respond immediately, however, he poured himself a glass of water and nodded to the secretary of state to reply.
“How did the king respond to the president’s proposal that Jordan join a US-backed Sunni alliance against the Twelfth Imam and the Caliphate?” asked the secretary, freshly home from a whirlwind tour of NATO capitals. “The Europeans are skeptical that such an alliance can be built. Of course, they don’t want to see the entire Middle East and North Africa under the control of one man either.”
“Well, let me just say that the king was more supportive of the idea before the Egyptians joined the Caliphate,” Allen said. “Now he fears he’ll be left all alone. If the Paks join us too, that would help. That’s why I think my trip to Islamabad will be critical. But at the moment, the king is noncommittal until he sees tangible support for Jordan’s security.”
The president asked the defense secretary if they could put several Patriot missile batteries on the ground in Jordan in the next seventy-two hours.
“We certainly can,” the SecDef said. “But I need to caution everyone here that the Patriot isn’t perfect. It can take down tactical ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, and advanced fighter jets, but it’s not going to get everything. Especially if hundreds of missiles are inbound.”
“When are you supposed to meet with the king next, Roger?” Jackson asked.
“It’s just past midnight here, sir. We’re supposed to have breakfast at seven tomorrow. But the defense minister said I could call him at any hour once I heard from you. How would you like to proceed, Mr. President?”
That was the problem. Jackson didn’t know. He hated being forced to react to events and requests. He wanted to be proactive, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to get out in front of the crisis.
“Say yes to the Patriots,” he said at last. “Get Defense to take the lead on those details. But say no to the joint air exercise — it’s simply too provocative at the moment.”
“That could prove decisive on whether the king will help start a Sunni alliance against the Caliphate,” Allen said.
“I understand, but it’s too provocative,” the president replied. “I don’t want a show of American force. That would be throwing kerosene on a bonfire.”
“And a quick trip over here by you?” Allen asked. “You could be here by tomorrow, then stop in Israel, too. Sir, I think it would mean a lot to both countries, knowing you are standing with them in this crisis.”
“Even with your memo that war is imminent?” Jackson asked.
“Especially given that,” Allen replied.
“I’m sure Secret Service will want to weigh in on that,” Jackson quipped.
He solicited input from the rest of the NSC, which proved to be split down the middle, but he had already made up his mind.
“Tell the king I deeply appreciate his offer and look forward to visiting sometime soon but that my doctors say I cannot travel right now,” the president said. “Look, gentlemen, I still think I can get through to the Mahdi and find a peaceful way out of this thing. I have to believe that. And I don’t want to do anything provocative or incendiary that could jeopardize our discussions. In fact, I’m going to send a back-channel message to the Mahdi to see if we can move our phone call up from next Tuesday to tomorrow. In the meantime, tomorrow I’m going to call for an emergency session of the UN Security Council, and I’m going to suggest that the secretary-general invite the Mahdi to meet with the council and discuss his concerns at his earliest possible convenience.”
There was a hum of agreement around the table.
“Mr. President, this is Roger again in Amman.”
“Yes, Roger.”
“Sir, no one appreciates your commitment to peace more than me. But every indicator we have is that the Mahdi is ready to launch a nuclear strike on Israel at any moment. He just told Defense Minister Faridzadeh to ‘make sure everything is ready.’ None of my senior staff believe the Mahdi is open to negotiations. We believe he is buying time to finalize his preparations for war.”
“So what are you saying, Roger?”
“Mr. President, I’m saying that any window for diplomacy has closed. I think we need to seriously consider taking military action against the Iranian nuclear sites and naval vessels we know of before the Mahdi can use those warheads and before the Israelis can strike.”
The president turned to the SecDef. “You have your plan ready, right?”
“Yes, sir, Op Plan 106,” the SecDef replied. “We’ve secretly positioned additional air assets in Greece and Cyprus, and we have the USS Enterprise and the bulk of the Sixth Fleet in the eastern Med. Meanwhile, we have the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower battle group patrolling the Gulf. Our stealth bombers are on alert at Whiteman in Missouri. The moment we get confirmed coordinates on those eight warheads, we can launch cruise missiles within two hours and execute the entire plan in less than six.”
“Good. We need to keep all options on the table,” the president said. “So your point is noted, Roger. That said, I couldn’t disagree with you more. I don’t think another US-led war in the Middle East is going to solve anything. I firmly believe diplomacy is the way forward, in close consultation with the UN and our NATO allies. So, Roger, I’d like you to come home immediately after your breakfast meeting with the king. State will take over from here. I’m sending the secretary to Islamabad tonight instead of you. I want you to focus exclusively on finding those warheads and keeping us apprised of any Israeli and Iranian moves toward war.”
Allen had just been benched. He looked deflated, but he knew his place. “Yes, sir, Mr. President. Just a quick point of clarification on that.”
“What?”
“Would you like the secretary to brief Prime Minister Naphtali on our latest intelligence on the Iranian nuclear threat, or should I proceed with that?”
“I will call the prime minister myself in the morning,” the president said.
“But, sir, respectfully, we are assessing an imminent attack,” the CIA director noted. “The Israelis need to know immediately.”
“I’ll call them in the morning, once you have confirmed whether there are any warheads actually on those Iranian missile boats,” the president said. “I don’t want to traffic in rumors, and I certainly don’t want to give the Israelis an excuse to launch a first strike. That is all, gentlemen.”
And with that, Jackson stood and walked out of the Sit Room.
Thursday
March 10
43
David had been on the road for more than an hour.
His eyelids were getting heavy, and the Iranian folk music he was listening to on the radio to pass the time wasn’t helping. But he was making progress. He had just fueled up in the village of Kalle Dasht and was now rapidly approaching the town of Saveh and the junction with Route 5. There, he would turn south until he reached the interchange at Garangan, where he would take Route 56 directly into Qom. At this rate, he expected to reach the hotel by around 2 a.m. and be in bed no later than 2:30.
His mobile phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number. Hoping it was Zalinsky or Eva with some good news, he took the call anyway.
“Reza?”
“Yes, this is he.”