“We also have to look closely at the six oil terminals in Bordeaux along the Gironde Estuary, at Pauillac and Ambes — that’s a major plant for liquid chemicals.
“The final spot is Brest, which, as we all know, is a long harbor containing the main French Navy base. But there’s also a considerable oil terminal in there, which takes both crude and LPG.
“Gentlemen, I intend to place United States warships at the entrances to all four of these seaways. I realize of course this will work only in the short term, because France will arrange overland supplies through Luxembourg and Germany. The Belgians will also help them out since they are considerable partners in the Total-FinaElf conglomerate.
“Nonetheless, the short term will be very miserable for them. Starve those ports of oil, and the place will swiftly run dry. In the long term, they’ll overcome it. But right now I care only for the short term.”
“Arnie,” said Admiral Dickson, “I realize this is purely academic, but France has a very dangerous Navy, with a lot of ships in both Brest and Marseille. Have you considered the possibility they may come out and attack our ships?”
“No I haven’t,” rasped the Admiral. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“What if they did?”
“Sink ’em, of course. Remember, we are acting as the world’s policemen, and the world is going to give its approval for us to do anything we damn well please. By the time the President has made a statement outlining the disgraceful role played by France in the current crisis, there won’t be a nation on earth that disapproves of our actions.”
“I agree. Attacks on policemen are generally frowned upon by law-abiding citizens. But I wonder whether we might not overplay our hand if we actually opened fire on a French warship?” Admiral Dickson was slipping into an extremely practical mode.
“I would not be concerned about that. Because we would immediately issue a detailed statement about the goddamned mayhem France perpetrated on the Saudi oil installations. Our drift would be, they asked for all they’re getting.”
Lt. Commander Ramshawe spoke next. “Sir,” he said, “do you have any plans to act immediately, rather than wait for the slow-burn of the blockade?”
“Funny you should mention that,” replied the Admiral. “Because as a matter of fact I do. But first I would like to brief you on the situation on the Riviera. For years France has been rolling in Saudi cash all along that coastline. Dozens of those young princes have kept huge motor yachts at places like Cannes, Nice, and Monte Carlo. It’s been nothing short of a gravy train for the French. And in turn they, of course, are swift to point out that only the French seaports can provide the level of civilized living the royal princes require.
“I thought perhaps we might humiliate France in front of the whole world, by blowing up the entire contents of those harbors.”
“Christ,” said Ramshawe. “There’d be hell to pay in reparations and God knows what else.”
“Not if no one had the slightest idea who’d done what to whom,” replied Morgan.
“Are you talking U.S. Navy SEALs?” asked Admiral Morris.
“Yes, George, I am. Those blasts on the big pleasure yachts might be the only shots fired in this little war, but they’ll cause more embarrassment to France than any other course of action we could possibly take. I also plan to check out the Gulf of St. Malo, in the north. But it’s only interesting if there are a lot of big foreign boats in there.
“Either way, there will be huge claims for compensation from the yacht owners. And France will have to pay for a long time before the claims reach Lloyds of London, if indeed there is any coverage to protect people from an act of war.”
“By that time, the President will naturally have broadcast and blamed France for the events in Saudi Arabia?” asked Admiral Morris.
“Correct,” replied Morgan. “And the hatred against the French will be so great among so many countries that no one will know which nation committed the atrocities in the French harbors.”
“I guess some of them will suspect the U.S.A.”
“So they might,” said Admiral Morgan. “But no one will know, and we’ll admit nothing. And I’ll tell you something else…most people will think it serves ’em right.”
“Presumably you intend the SEALs to come in from the ocean and set timed bombing devices on several huge foreign-owned yachts, which will mysteriously explode long after our submarines are clear of the datum?”
“Yeah,” said Morgan. “Pretty much the same techniques the French frogmen must have used when they hit the Saudi oil loading platforms.”
“Well, there’s a great belief in the desert of the old biblical maxim ‘an eye for an eye,’” said Alan Dickson. “I guess France has it coming.”
“Well, I would like to put this operation and the blockade on the fast track. And while that all begins to unfold, I want to assess the possibilities of finding our friend Major Gamoudi.”
“Could I just ask what we’re going to do if and when we find him?” asked George Morris.
“Sure,” said Morgan. “We’re going to kidnap him.”
“Well, he sure as hell won’t want to show up of his own accord and tell us all he knows, will he?”
“Probably not. But we can’t just snatch him, can we?”
“Why the hell not? We’re probably looking at the man who murdered our great friend the King of Saudi Arabia. He’d be one of the most wanted men in the world. But we don’t care what he’s done. We want him to stand right up there in front of the United Nations Assembly and admit that France paid him to overthrow the King.”
“You think he’ll do that?”
“I don’t think he has much choice. Plainly he’s a man who could be charged with anything, and we know he stormed the royal palace in Riyadh. Charlie Brooks sent us a fucking photograph of him in the leading tank.
“What I’m hoping is, the French make an attempt on his life, as I’m certain they will. And then we can rush in and get to him first. That way he’ll be damn glad to shop his treacherous employers, and save his own skin by rowing in with us.”
“Well,” said Admiral Morris, “he won’t be able to return to France, will he?”
“Not likely,” replied Morgan. “Which means we also have to get his wife and family out of the goddamn Pyrenees where they live, because if we don’t, they’ll be as good as hostages. And Jacques, being the kind of man he is, may prefer to die to save her and the kids from the malevolence of his own government.”
“I wonder how the hell we’ll ever know if France has attempted to assassinate him,” muttered Jimmy Ramshawe. “Tell the truth, we don’t even know where he is at the moment. He was in Riyadh a week ago, but a week’s a long time in the assassination game.”
Just then, Morgan’s assistant secretary tapped and looked around the door. “Sir, there’s an urgent call for Lt. Commander Ramshawe from one of our envoys in Saudi Arabia…would he like to take it in the outside office?”
The Lt. Commander climbed to his feet, nodding in agreement, and stepped out of Admiral Morgan’s new White House headquarters. He sat at a spare desk in the outer room and said, “Ramshawe, who’s speaking?”
“Jimmy, it’s Charlie Brooks. I’m on the encrypted line, but I’m calling because I think something very interesting happened here last Thursday night. A couple of French hit men got wiped out in the middle of Olaya Street. They were both dead when the police arrived, one of ’em half in the car, which was a big Citroen. Paris registered. The other guy was lying behind it. They both carried Kalashnikovs, and witnesses say they were killed by the man they were after.”
“Oh yeah? Go on, Charlie.”
“Well, we have a few contacts in the Saudi police, and for a couple of days they carried out a regular investigation, just like it was a normal double murder. And then, according to our man Said, the investigation was stopped on the direct orders of the King. Apparently the car that drove the killer away from the scene was registered to King Nasir. And the police say that one of the men inside that car was Colonel Jacques Gamoudi. But there were a few reliable eyewitnesses, from whom the police took statements. They all say the same thing: the Citroen tried to run down two men at high speed, but it missed and stopped dead. There was some kind of a fight after that. And both the would-be murderers were killed by some terrible guy, obviously an expert in unarmed combat. One of ’em choked to death because of a broken neck, and the other had his nose somehow rammed into his brain.”
