It was a subtle acknowledgment of his position. Moradi had been given charge of the nuclear program, but Sabet was the guiding intellect. The general respected the scientist’s experience and achievements, his piety, and his dedication to the Revolution, but he lacked Moradi’s sense of urgency, and to Moradi’s mind, pushing was how the big jobs got done.
The general sat down behind the desk, and sipped his tea quietly, almost afraid to ask the next question. “What is the news from up north?”
Sabet said, “No more bad news; a little good news. They have almost finished debugging the simulation. It can model the thermal and hydraulic performance of a malfunctioning reactor.”
Moradi almost laughed. “We have one of those, Doctor.” Near Khondab, about ninety kilometers southwest of Arak, Iran had built a nuclear reactor, following the plans provided by the Pakistani nuclear scientist. It used natural uranium fuel with no enrichment, which Iran could produce. Transformed by the nuclear reaction, the spent fuel contained about 1 % plutonium by weight, most of which was Pu-239, which could be extracted and used to make a nuclear bomb. It was the second doorway into the nuclear clubhouse, bypassing the complex, time-consuming, and so far unattainable uranium enrichment process. All one had to do was build a specialized nuclear reactor.
Unlike the civilian and very public pressurized light-water reactor at Bushehr, built to a Russian design, the “IR-40” at Arak used heavy water to moderate the nuclear reaction. Heavy water paired two deuterium atoms, an isotope of hydrogen with an extra neutron, with an oxygen atom. It looked like regular water, and while it wasn’t as efficient as regular water at slowing down neutrons, heavy water didn’t absorb neutrons as readily as light water and this enabled a reactor to use natural, unenriched uranium as fuel.
The IR-40 reactor was entirely an Iranian enterprise. The Iranian scientists had a good theoretical understanding of nuclear reactor design, and they had been running small research reactors for decades. Using the plans provided by Pakistan, it should have been a straightforward task. However, the transition from theory to practice is rarely a smooth road. And in the case of the IR-40, the road was more of a goat path.
For some reason that they didn’t understand, the IR-40’s main cooling system wasn’t working properly. In several of the narrow coolant channels, the water was starting to boil, reducing the flow of water over the adjacent fuel rods, which then started to warp and crack. Moradi knew it had to do with the design of the core, but he depended on Sabet and his people at the facility to understand and fix it. That was not only frustrating, but was thus far unproductive.
The core of the IR-40 had to be redesigned, but how? Their basic understanding of reactor core design had to be improved, and quickly. For Moradi, everything had to be done quickly.
Sabet saw his expression. “General, I truly believe computer simulation is our best option. You can’t use trial and error with nuclear reactors. Mistakes could be deadly, even worse than what happened here, and their effects last for decades. Modeling the core’s behavior in a computer will improve our understanding, as well as enable us to explore different core designs. Such techniques are used in Europe and America all the time.”
But Iran had not been able to acquire the software, again because of sanctions. Theft, espionage, and black-market purchases had provided the software, but then it had to be documented, adapted, and finally completely understood. Otherwise they would have no idea whether the computer’s output was a bug or a correct result. That process had taken almost a year.
Intellectually, Moradi could accept Sabet’s explanation. Simulation was the logical course, but it reduced the struggle to develop a plutonium bomb to a roomful of computer geeks arguing over a printout. Moving ones and zeroes around on an invisible battlefield made it impossible for the general to see any progress, or any way to improve the situation.
Moradi’s frustration was clear in his tone. “We are pouring resources into both the enrichment process and the heavy-water reactor because it gives us two paths to a nuclear capability.” He sighed heavily. “Both are effectively stalled.”
“Moving forward slowly,” Sabet corrected quietly. “Sometimes it’s difficult to see, General, but even a failure can be viewed as progress. I’ve been involved in projects that had even worse setbacks. You have to take the long view.”
Moradi’s answer had an edge to it. “We don’t have an infinite amount of time, Doctor. The West, and now even Russia are aligned against us. They work to undermine not only this program, but also our government and our economy. They are hurting us, and I’m not sure how much more damage we can stand.”
Sabet nodded, agreeing with Moradi, but the general pressed his point. “Doctor, you don’t understand. The government can issue all the press releases it wants, but the sanctions do have an effect. And it’s getting worse. The situation is not static, nor is it in our favor.”
The doctor answered, “Of course, you may have access to information I don’t. Is there anything specific we need to worry about? Is there a deadline?”
Moradi shook his head. “Nothing specific. But eventually, we won’t be able to find a key material or technology, even on the black market. What do we do then?
“This is a battle, Dr. Sabet. Even without guns and trenches, the rules are the same. A short battle is better than a long one. Move slowly and your opponent has time to react. He may block your advance or even find a way to defeat you.” He gestured toward the crippled pilot plant. “And it gives your own people more time to make mistakes.”
“You approved the test schedule…”
“Based on their recommendations. I’m not a fool, Doctor, or a scientist. I will let the specialists practice their craft, as long as they get results. And I don’t see any.”
“Are you saying it’s fruitless to…” Sabet started to ask.
“No, Doctor, your scientists and engineers should redouble their efforts. Tell them time is limited, and precious. But if we’re blocked on two paths, it’s time to look for a third.”
“A short cut? General, we are already cutting corners.”
“A bypass, an end-around,” Moradi replied. “We’ve gotten quite good at those.”
General Moradi bid Dr. Sabet farewell by the Mi-17, then followed his staff onto the helicopter for the trip back to Isfahan. Their mood was upbeat, chatting happily as they belted in, pleased to be returning home after a few days away. Moradi’s own feelings were harder to define. He wasn’t as angry or frustrated as he’d expected to be, or depressed about the program’s setback. Certainly his conversation with the Supreme Leader would be unpleasant. As the helicopter took flight, he realized he’d reached a conclusion.
This wasn’t going to work.
2
SEQUENCE
Ed Randolph walked into the conference room to find it jammed, buzzing with conversation. Thankfully, government buildings were nonsmoking, but it was still stuffy. With even the janitors cleared for Top Secret, classification hadn’t been much of a barrier to attendance. And there had been rumors. He quickly walked to the front of the room, past the two briefers setting up.
He held up his arms, and the murmur quickly faded. “There are too many people in this room. If you’re not a principal or designated representative, leave. If you’re not from the WMD, Near East, Military Issues, or Science and Technology Offices, leave.” One analyst rose to protest, but Randolph forestalled him. “Yes, Clark, you’re entitled, but not yet. This is only a preliminary meeting. The Office of Transnational Threats will get their chance to review and comment on the draft product.” He raised his voice. “And the fewer discussions I hear in the halls, the better.” There were no more arguments, and people began to file out of the room. As the National Intelligence Officer for Weapons of Mass Destruction and Proliferation, Randolph had the authority to limit the meeting’s attendance.
The Chairman of the National Intelligence Council, General Duvall, appeared in the door and the stragglers made a path for him, then hurried out. Randolph checked his watch: 1500 exactly. He checked the two briefers. One was now standing at the podium while the other tended the computer. They had dealt with the general before.
