his desk. “Things have changed. The deaths of the king and his heir apparent have created a political power vacuum and now we have these intelligence reports that the Saudis possess some nuclear weapons. Suddenly it is an unstable and very serious situation for China. The delicate balance has been upset.”
“I agree, comrade chairman.”
“This information on the nuclear missiles is reliable?”
“Absolutely. It is not just street gossip, but was confirmed by well-paid sources inside the Saudi military itself and is also being discussed in Washington.”
“Nuclear weapons! If one of those weapons falls into the hands of those religious extremists it might be detonated in the gulf, ruining production for decades.”
The general wasted no time commenting on foreign and economic policies. That wasn’t his job. “Should we plan a military intervention?”
“Something might be needed,” Chairman Jiang said, returning to his window to gaze at the gray sky. “Of course, it is too far away and not enough time. What is your opinion of making such a movement?”
The general joined him at the window. Direct eye contact was to be avoided when speaking in such general terms, so they stared at the big, blank buildings. The ornate and distinctive Chinese architecture of ancient times had given way to monstrous, bland concrete boxes.
“Looking at it from a normal military perspective, it is virtually impossible. Xinjiang Province in our northwest shares borders with Afghanistan and Pakistan, but we cannot consider marching through either place. The Americans would stop us in Afghanistan and the Pakistanis would never agree. It would result in costly fighting and not get us much closer to the Saudi oil.”
The chairman noted that the window that had been cleaned last night was already sandpapered again by specks of soot and dirt. “No, that would not be the answer. Perhaps there is something smaller that could protect our interests?”
“The logical move would be to go through the United Nations and perhaps join, or even lead, an international coalition to protect one of the world’s major oil supply networks? We could also move units of the People’s Liberation Army to Africa, closer to Saudi Arabia, while the diplomats are debating.”
The chairman agreed. “We may, however, have to move without UN approval, by claiming that the imminent danger forced us to act. Once we are in, we would offer to help establish an international force.”
General Zhu Chi stiffened. “To be clear, comrade. We should consider actually capturing the Saudi oil fields?”
“Just consider all options, comrade general. The UN could be a useful ploy to delay a countermove by Washington. It should not ultimately determine our decision.”
“Then I shall leave you now, comrade, and order the planning staff to start working on possibilities.”
They bowed slightly to each other, and the general headed back to the elevator. As it descended, he found his handkerchief and mopped his brow. General Zhu had 2.3 million men under arms in the PLA, a total military head count of seven million people, and could get uncounted millions more if needed. He had a generous budget and could also get more money, if needed. Somewhere in the matrix had to be an answer that might stop short of World War III. The first need was to put some new eyes on the ground.
23
JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA
It was part of the contents of an envelope that was hand-delivered to him by an excited imam who had personally sped down from Riyadh to explain the magnificent gift from God.
“The material was entrusted to me by Vice Sergeant Mas’ud Mohammed al-Kazaz, our martyr who eliminated the heretic who commanded the Saudi Royal Guard Regiment.” The imam was nervous and afraid in the presence of the powerful leader of the Religious Police. He fished in an envelope and handed over a scarlet red card of thick plastic, stamped with a string of black letters and numbers.
The imam bowed his head in reverence. “The vice-sergeant confided that the items now in your hands are the codes and key needed to launch a missile carrying a nuclear warhead. The missile is at the base.”
Ebara wanted to shout in glee, but reined his emotions in tightly to show no weakness to the lesser religious figure. Inside his chest, his heart was beginning to soar. A nuclear weapon!
“Anything more?”
“Yes. This book.” It was a slim volume with a red stripe across the cover and the seal of the House of Saud. “It contains top secret military documents and I took the liberty of reading it on the trip down here, in order to spare you valuable time.”
“What does it say?” Ebara let the book rest on a small table and did not touch it. To even extend a hand might display his eagerness and the imam might think him weak.
“Although I am not a military expert, my reading of the material indicates that it contains the locations of five nuclear missiles within the kingdom, and instructions for computers, such as pre-set latitude and longitude positions of possible targets.”
“Humnh,” Ebara grunted, then sucked in a deep breath. “You have done well, my brother. Leave this with me and return immediately to Riyadh. Tell no one of what we have been given. Your loyalty and alertness will be amply rewarded when the rebellion is concluded.”
The imam stood and bowed.
“The peace of the Prophet, praise be unto him, remain with you,” Ebara replied.
WHEN THE OTHER MAN left, Ebara remained alone in the dimness of a large room in his mosque and let his thoughts weigh what was before him. Nuclear weaponry. This changes everything!
He was a tall and gaunt man, whose robes hung loose around his bony frame. Thick black eyebrows met atop a long nose. The mouth seldom smiled behind the long beard. He had risen swiftly through the ranks of the Religious Police with his unforgiving view of the world as an evil place and his patchwork philosophy of violence that he could trace to specific parts of the Koran.
Through years of behind-the-scenes maneuvering, he had taken control of the Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, and wore the trademark red headpiece with great pride. Ambition, hard work, and a single-minded dedication to power had paid off. Now he was at a peak of power, a place in which he could do no wrong simply because he was the one doing it.
When the mysterious outsiders had come quietly shopping for an accomplice who might be installed to head a new government for Saudi Arabia, Ebara had been a natural choice. He was, by careful stages, outraged at the idea at first, then reluctant, and eventually, a full participant. In exchange, he had become extremely rich.
The goals of the plotters had been mutual. A coup to displace the House of Saud with a stringent, theology- based government and a shift in the control of the petroleum production facilities. Ebara would become even more feared and ever more powerful.
His only direct contact with the outside was with a German banker, Dieter Nesch. Through him, a message could be relayed to the president of Russia, who was funding the overthrow of the king. Ebara played with the key and the card and the book, thinking about the situation. The balance of power had tilted as suddenly as shifting sand in a storm, and Ebara, after all, was still a Saudi. Bargaining was part of his blood. The new weapons meant new negotiations. He could remain the visible head of the rebellion and ratchet up the pressure and the rhetoric, as
