Tehran Decree (14 page)

‘Really...what about the secret service contingent
over there, aren't they supposed to be protecting him?’

‘They did sir...most of them are now dead.’

‘You’ll have to put our men onto this director.’

‘Not that simple sir...Australian sovereignty is in
the way.’

‘Well at least try
--
we are allies I
believe.’

‘Yes sir, one would hope so,’ the line went silent as
the acting president stood deep in thought for several moments.
Care had to be taken in the way things were handled from now on --
every step would be critical.

‘Now listen to me director, the Iranian Leader has
issued a Decree, they have captured the president in order to put
him on trail in Tehran in front of the world. There is no way they
are going to let him go, in fact, any hard attempt to free him will
almost certainly result in his death.’

‘That’s a fair assumption sir.’

‘Let’s treat it as a fact, then the only way we can
come out of this on top is to use the situation to our
advantage.’

‘I quite agree sir, but how?’

‘In the American embassy over there in Australia, is
a special set of bullet shaped phials in a sealed box in the safe
for just such an occasion as this.’

‘You don’t say, I wasn’t aware of that sir.’

‘Actually, boxes of this particular bullet are now
common to most US embassies throughout the world. It was a covert
decision made by a former president in case of an emergency. It has
been on hold since its inception some years ago, its success
depends entirely on its secrecy and this is why you are not aware
of it director. I think now is the time for its release.

What I’m about to reveal to you is top secret
director, I trust you will maintain correct protocol and keep it
that way. Do you remember the Iranian hostage affair, where a
number of our US personnel were captured and detained?’

‘Yes I do sir, wasn’t that on president Carter’s
watch.’

‘It was...and we were powerless at the time. It was
the most humiliating incident in the history of the United States
military. It is something a great country like ours does not forget
easily, and so, we had to learn from this shameful event.’

‘That’s right sir...and it also was the most
frustrating thing ever to happen to any US government.’

‘It certainly was, and these special hi-tech bullets
will address that situation somewhat, they have the highest
possible classification...and once again, I’m reminding you of that
director.

‘Are they a new take on cyanide capsules sir...does
it have a code classification?’

‘Not quite that negative, but they’re the next best
thing, they consists of a specially designed plastic bullet
containing a micro transmitter, which when fired into the body
penetrates the muscle and remains there undetected. They leave only
a tiny pinprick in the skin which rapidly heals. You’ll find the
relevant details listed under classified code number DS302’

‘And there purpose sir?

‘They are a marker consisting of a tiny, but highly
powerful solid state signal generator. They also have an extra
bio-active component which dissolves in the body tissues. The
device activates the minute it enters the body. Any person
harbouring such a device can now be detected anywhere in the world
using one of our specially equipped drone aircraft. It will be near
impossible to hide such captives from our airborne detectors ’

‘And the bio-active component sir...what does that
do?’

‘It assists in the rapid healing of the entry wound
and acts as a powerful anesthetic in the immediate area as well as
possessing other physiological properties.’

‘But how can that help in our current situation
sir?’

‘It’s simple really...your job will be to get one of
these bullets implanted into the president before the terrorists
whisk him away. The president should feel virtually nothing as the
ultra slim bullet enters his tissues. There is a special silenced
air gun in the arms cabinet within the embassy, the Ambassador has
the only key. The weapon must be fired within a range of 30 metres
for effective penetration.

Unfortunately, like all secret weapons it needs
testing, preferable in secret by an unwilling participant who knows
nothing of the device or its capabilities. Ideally the test case or
victim should be totally unaware that he is the recipient of this
insidious device after insertion.’

‘But how on earth are we going to test it sir...and
what possible use is this device in the present situation?’

‘I would have thought that might have been obvious
director. By a lucky or unlucky coincidence, depending on your
point of view, president Garner is now in the most favorable
situation possible for the testing of the DS 302 device.’

‘You actually intend to use it on the president
sir.’

‘Of course, any politician in a position of influence
wouldn’t hesitate to use it in the field. It is actually nothing
more than the electronic human equivalent of a sophisticated animal
marker device one might use on a pet dog or cat.

‘Your letting the terrorists take the president then
sir?’

‘Yes, since they will kill the president anyway if we
try to stop them, he is now lost to us, so we use the situation to
our advantage -- what was the that saying by Dale Carnage?’

‘I don’t know sir, a bit before my time.’

‘Something about turning a lemon into a
lemonade...that is what we will do director. Anyway, you must now
find a good marksman over there, get him into the tunnel, and fire
one of the marker bullets into the president before the terrorists
whisk him away to Iran...that way we’ll be able to track them right
to their HQ. It is therefore essential that they are allowed to get
a away with the president -- make sure you get this over to the
Australian authorities.’

‘Then what sir?’

‘Just as soon as we have found their head quarters
via the drone aircraft detector, and established that the
government hierarchy is present, we’ll nuke the bloody hell out of
them.’

The FBI director checked himself against a strong
desire to vigorously protest; instead, allowing himself a gross
contraction of his facial muscles

‘Their is another problem here sir...the president
has all the secret codes and security of our country embedded in
his brain. What if they decide to torture him to death -- I can’t
see the president holding out for very long -- he’s not a hard
chore military type, they’ll have a field day.’

‘The only answer to that director, is to eliminated
the president on the spot -- would you like to take responsibility
for that?

‘No sir...that’s unthinkable.’

‘Good, then we proceed as stated. In any case, the
embedded bullet will have it’s own slow release, euthanasia device
built in. The president is not likely to last long enough for a
full scale torture session.

Now, we haven’t got much time director, so get onto
this immediately. I want this done, if the Australian authorities
can’t handle it, then we’ll fly out a special FBI HRT team.’

‘A Hostage Response Team sir
--
but that will
seriously jeopardize our relationship with the Australians, we are
already straining the friendship now.’

‘I see...perhaps a direct call to the Australian PM
might do the job.’

‘Please sir, let me do my job, I won’t let them move
president Garner until the device had been embedded.’

‘All right, but let them know exactly what we want,
just remember, he is the US President and therefore our total
responsibility. Give me a buzz as soon as a successful implantation
has occurred.'

Chapter Twenty-seven

The meeting was in full swing as Chester was shown
into the large dinning room at government house. Faces around a
long table peered at the new man, most with undisguised
antagonism.

The table talk died down as Chester took his seat
opposite Bruce Jones, the police minister. He recognised most of
the faces present; there was a subdued prime minister sitting at
the head of the table flanked by the American ambassador, a large
stately man with lots of grey hair and an expressionless face, next
to him was the NSW premier, a rather bland man of average height,
with a balding crown, dressed in his ubiquitous brown pin striped
suit. The defence minister, George Granger was the tallest, and
possibly the smartest man in the room, with his delectable Italian
double breasted suit, matching pale salmon shirt, and deep crimson
silk cravat. He was always blessed with a rosy face and permanent
grin. Granger sat on the right side of the premier, adjacent to him
were two other immaculately dressed men he hadn’t seen before.

The prime minister looked directly at Chester.

‘We’ve been discussing the situation commissioner and
the senior FBI attaché in Canberra, Director Harry Lincoln,’ the PM
gestured towards one of the strangers, ‘would like to bring in an
FBI antiterrorist task force at this point,’ Chester went rigid and
blood drained from his face. ‘I’m sorry prime minister, but while
I’m commissioner, the American FBI will not be actively involved in
this situation. This is Australia, and we have our own crime
fighting resources. I have every confidence the situation will be
resolved the Australian way,’ the FBI director glowered at
Chester.

‘All due respects commissioner we have followed your
basic planning and look at the mess we’re in,’ Chester glared
openly at the director by way of return.

‘You may have over looked the fact sir but most of
your secret service officers are now laying dead in the western
distributor tunnel and they were the last line of defence for the
president,’ the FBI director’s constrained demeanor burst its
banks.

‘And that commissioner, may well be do to your
bumbling lack of external support...where the hell were your men
when the fireworks started?’ Chester’s reply was quick and to the
point.

‘It’s just as well we didn’t send too many of our men
in, otherwise it would have been a blood bath, with the president
as one of the first casualties. It’s a bit of clear thinking we
want now...not more body bags,’ the police minister gently pulled
Chester to one side and whispered in his ear.

‘I would like a word with you afterwards commissioner
please wait in the ante-room.' Chester stood upright, turned
sullenly, and left the room. Closing the door quietly behind him,
he turned and sat heavily on a polished oak bench in the porch way,
which normally provided seating for prospective interviewees at
government house.

The inevitable clash with political forces beyond his
control had occurred. He faced what most commanders in the field
face just before their imminent defeat. Too many of his men were in
the wrong place at the wrong time, thousands of police scattered
along the highways and byways propping up useless barriers and
intimidating the public. With only a handful in the western
distributor tunnel crying their eyes out and choking to death on
Jihad induced smoke bombs.

It was the sacrificial lamb routine all over again,
but this time it looked like they really would sacrifice him on the
political alter of the damned, in order to placate the rulers of
the world. It was a sad end to a gallant man who had given the
Australian Police forty years of his life. His past life began to
flash through his mind; the glorious events, the sordid happenings,
and the down right obscene, all mashed up together in the wildest
action movie that would put the best of the thriller DVD’s to
shame. This little charade didn’t really matter to Chester, it was
just another little speed bump along the way, no doubt there would
many others before he was through. Such political rigmarole's were
actually becoming a bit of a bore.

He looked around the austere room with its faded
sepia photos of the early construction stages of the harbour
bridge, and past governor generals, with smug expressions all
framed in government regulated brown oak frames.

Well they could just stuff it all up their assess
he’d had enough of there politically correct hypocrisy.

He laughed out loud at his thoughts -- they had the
info on him at HQ, it was the thickest dossier of any serving
commissioner on file, all of it good and righteous stuff, but they
didn’t know half of it, he was a secret marijuana smoker. He rolled
his own and had a hidden supply always at hand in an inner
pocket.

He pulled out a thin leather wallet and extracted a
perfectly rolled marijuana cigarrette and lit it. Taking a deep
draw, he blew the smoke at the ‘no smoking’ sign, and laughed
again.

‘To hell with the bloody lot of them,’ he knew that
governments were just a farce -- a contrived template for the
control of peoples lives. All governments were corrupt no matter
what their political persuasion, it all boiled down to the fact
that all humans were corrupt, and so their little offspring's
carried the same seeds with them in whatever they did. All
authoritative systems were just a matter of degree, some being
worse than others, but it was control that resided at the core of
all such hierarchies.

But once you had been through the system and found
all the holes, it wasn’t too hard to hack into it, and carve out
your own little niche.

He drew more deeply on his reefer and his craggy face
congealed into a smug smile. If only they knew his real past it
would put hairs on their metaphorical chests. The amount of
security information accessible to a police commissioner was
enormous, in fact, with a little improvisation it was virtually
limitless.

Chapter Twenty-eight

In the large meeting room FBI director Harry Lincoln
gestured dramatically with his open hands as if symbolically
embracing all participants at the table.

‘I’m sorry about all this prime minister, but we do
have the president of America locked up in that tunnel, and it is
our statutory duty to protect him. We also need to enact certain
things with the president which must remain confidential,’ the
defense minister beamed and lent forward in his seat.