The War in 2020

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Noburu's mind drifted back to the imagery of the possible Soviet counterattack force in the industrial park outside of Omsk. Really, a negligible matter in the great scheme of things. But he would have to deal with it. The Iranian and rebel forces were so depleted, so worn, that the sudden introduction of an organized counterattack force might prove capable of causing at least local panic. He decided not to rely on Yameshima and his Iranian Air Force charges to do the job. Kloete's South Africans could fly this one. It was not a time to take chances. And the South Africans needed to earn their keep.

An orderly delivered fresh tea and a plate of biscuits, catering to Noburu's guests. Noburu himself would have much preferred another Scotch, but he deferentially took the required thimble glass of tea. He watched as Tanjani dropped cube after cube of sugar into the orange liquid.

'And now,' Noburu said, bracing himself against the impending storm, 'there is another matter I would like to discuss with you. Among friends.' He glanced toward the workstation, where his aide sat monitoring the flow of information, temporarily suppressing anything that might not be appropriate for the eyes of Noburu's guests. Noburu knew that Akiro would disapprove of his next tack. Perhaps the aide would even report the matter to the General Staff. Personal loyalty was not all that it once had been. But Noburu was determined to go ahead with the business. 'This matter of the employment of chemical weapons against mass targets… specifically, against noncombatants… I know we have spoken of this before.' He looked at Tanjani. 'But the battlefield situation has continued to develop in our favor, and I'm certain that we all can agree that there is no longer the least justification for such attacks. We are on the edge of victory. I do not think our cause is furthered by attacks that can only turn world opinion against us.'

Noburu noted that Akiro had stopped fiddling with the computer. The aide was listening attentively, aware that his commander was speaking in violation of the directive from Tokyo.

To Noburu's relief, Tanjani showed no immediate excitement. He continued to sip his sugar-laden tea. There was a moment of near silence, the clinking of metal and glass. Then Tanjani said wearily, 'World opinion? Why are we to concern ourselves with the opinion of the world? Especially as we are still speaking largely of the opinion of the Western world, are we not?' He put down his tea glass, readying himself to speak at greater length. 'For more than forty years, my country has laughed in the face of world opinion, and today we are the victors. World opinion? What does it matter? Dust in the wind. The American devil is impotent. He is a caged Satan.' He laughed in tepid amusement, as at a good joke heard once too often. 'And the Europeans care only for their economic welfare. They may weep, but they will still line up to buy our oil.' Tanjani's eyes came to rest on Noburu's beautifully cut uniform. 'They have become our tailors, our purveyors of sweets. Nothing more. And the Soviets… cannot effectively retaliate. Even if they had threatening weapons, they would not attack our home countries — they are too anxious not to draw our attacks down upon their main cities. They are degenerate cowards, who deserve to be destroyed. God is great, and his sword smites the infidel. He places fear in their hearts.'

'But is it necessary to strike the refugee columns?'

'It costs Japan nothing,' Tanjani replied haughtily. 'These are our weapons. And, you see, they are more dependable than your machines.'

'But such actions,' Noburu said, 'simply cause the enemy to retaliate with chemical weapons of his own. Your forces have taken needless chemical casualties.'

'God is great,' Tanjani said. 'The soldiers of Iran welcome the opportunity to die the death of the martyr.' Biryan, the rebel commander, leaned forward abruptly. It was a strikingly violent gesture that betrayed anger that could no longer be contained. He inadvertently knocked over his tea glass, but made no move to right it.

'The Russian and his brethren must be destroyed,' he said. His face had grown pale. 'They are all demons, the worst of infidels. My people have lived under the Russian yoke for more than a century. We know the Russian. He is an animal, a dog. And he must be beaten like a dog, destroyed like a mad dog. Not only the men, but their women and children — they are the source of the greatest evil in this world. They are a plague on the earth. There is no suffering too great for them.'

Noburu glanced at Shemin but saw instantly that he would get no help from the man this time. Shemin was a survivor of struggles both military and political, and he picked his fights carefully. Born in Baghdad, he had begun learning his lessons as a lieutenant, back in 1990, leading a tank platoon into Kuwait.

Biryan's intensity had genuinely shocked Noburu, who still could not believe that this man had lately served beside the men he now wished to annihilate, that he had lived among the women and children whom he so ardently wished to butcher.

When will it be our turn? Noburu wondered.

Tanjani was smiling, clearly feeling himself the master of his Japanese counterpart. Yes, Noburu told himself, I'm just another infidel to them. Not fully human. It is only that I am temporarily useful. How on earth did we ever allow ourselves to make a compact with men such as these?

'My brother,' Tanjani said to Noburu, 'it brings…surprise to the righteous to hear you take the side of the infidel. Especially, when you refuse to employ all of your own weapons on our behalf.'

Noburu wondered how much surprise his face betrayed. Hopefully, the years of discipline were standing him in good stead now.

Was Tanjani merely fishing? Did he really know? 'General Tanjani…' Noburu said, '… the government of Japan is supporting you to the full extent of our treaties. You have received all specified aid.'

'And yet,' Tanjani said, 'friends do not conceal their wealth from their true friends.'

'I don't understand,' Noburu lied.

Tanjani sat back in his chair, thoughtful, teasing. Then he lifted his eyebrows at the amusing trend of his thoughts. 'Perhaps… if all of the Japanese weapons came to the support of the true cause… perhaps then there would be little need of these chemical weapons that are such trouble to you.'

No, Noburu thought. Far better the chemicals.

'My friend,' Noburu said, 'you must tell me the details of your concern. Exactly which weapons are you speaking of? Perhaps I am too ill-informed.'

Tanjani looked at him hard. 'And what is at the base in Bukhara? What is so great a secret there? Why are my men not trusted to guard their Japanese brothers?'

He doesn't know, Noburu decided, relieved. He's only guessing. He's caught wind of something. But he doesn't know the details.

'The base at Bukhara,' Noburu said, regaining his selfassurance, 'is a very sophisticated technical support site. You know the terms of our agreements. There are some electronic matters… industrial secrets… which were developed at great expense to the people of Japan. Today, in a world still hungry for the tightening supplies of oil, Iran has no need of such things. You are very rich. By the grace of God. But, for Japan, these technical matters are our 'oil,' our only wealth. There is nothing at the Bukhara site other than electronics — to be used in your support, as necessary.' The last part was true, Noburu told himself. If the whole story came out, he had not actually lied. There was nothing at Bukhara but electronics. The Scramblers were really nothing more than another arrangement of conductors.

Noburu sized up the others. Tanjani had played his card — neither Shemin nor Biryan had known anything about the matter. They were, however, rapidly becoming interested.

Noburu could not imagine worse allies. What did they have to offer Japan other than trouble, threats, complaints, endless discontents? He wondered if Japan were not unconsciously replacing the United States in yet another sphere.

'My dear General Tanjani,' Noburu said, 'may I offer you a visit to the Bukhara site? You are welcome to inspect everything. You will see for yourself. There is nothing at Bukhara other than aircraft, maintenance facilities — and electronics. General Yameshima could arrange such a visit immediately.'

It was Tanjani's turn to be caught off-guard. Noburu knew that the Iranian could easily walk through the facility and even sit behind the controls of the aircraft without realizing their purpose.

'Perhaps…' Tanjani said, '… when there is more time. Yes. Perhaps this is a very good idea. But Bukhara is far from the front. A commander's place is with his troops.'

Noburu knew that Tanjani would not return immediately to the front from the combined headquarters at Baku. First, the Iranian would stop off in Meshed, in the safety of northern Iran, where he would spend the night in the company of a woman who was distinctly not his wife. But the war would go on without him.

'Yes,' Shemin said, rising, 'we should all be with our troops. And the road is long.' He smiled. 'Even when we