Tehran Decree (17 page)

Ellen Monard had a profoundly shocked air about her
features and stared morosely at the floor. The chief of staff, the
largest man in the group, crouched over her and held her hand,
seemingly comforting her.

Jensen moved silently amongst the vehicle wreckage
until he had a good view of the president’s rear, but remained well
hidden from the terrorists. He took careful aim at the US
politicians buttocks, which were just level with the Lincoln
limousines bonnet. The car was heavilly marked with shrapnel, and
bullet holes, which had ricochetted off the special armour.

Easing off the trigger of the rifle for a second
sighting, he wiped his sweat coated hands on paper tissue from his
jump suit pocket. It was then he had a sudden brain wave as his
hand brushed against his holstered Glock pistol.

He was at that moment in target range and two
dissidents stood with their backs against him -- it would be a
simple matter to shoot both men in the back in quick succession
with his Glock, then rescue the hostages in one final swoop.

He checked himself -- was this an ego impulse -- the
egotistical desire to save the day and be top dog regardless of the
effect on others.

More seconds ticked by as Jansen went through his
possible options keeping his ego in mind. He’d been focusing on the
immediate action, but his peripheral vision revealed Sergeant
Thompsom and commander Johns directly in his line of fire. A check
around the tunnel also revealed groups of men with RPG’s standing
in the background at either end of the tunnel, as well as police
personnel at the rear of them.

Any attempt at a violent rescue would almost
certainly end in a catastrophic shoot out between all parties. It
was actually possible to save the president from BIB’s clutches and
his subsequent trial -- but the price in police lives would be too
high, which lead to his next question. How many lives was a US
president worth?

The question lingered in his brain as he took careful
aim at the president’s glutimus maximus muscles and the answer to
the question forced him to squeeze the trigger.

There was a faint pop and the president suddenly
dropped a little, as if his legs had temporarily given way. Ellen
Monard snapped out of her morbid trance and propped the president
up with her right arm. The president smiled weakly, reassuring her
with a pat of his hand, that he was okay,’ Jansen beamed, the FBI
director was right, the special bullets had the propensity to enter
tissue without provoking excessive pain. Garner must have accepted
the slight stabbing feeling in his buttock as a symptom of his
general condition.

Jack Magnus stared hard at Monard as the president’s
legs started to buckle again and a dark stain appeared down his
trouser leg. Liquid began to pool around his shoes.Monard returned
his stare and whispered in his ear.

‘Sorry sir...but bodily functions continue 24/7 even
for a president,’ Garner felt a twinge of embarrassment as he
caught the small talk between his remaining staff members. He was
now waxing and waning between basic consciousness and a
semi-stuporose state. Although still aware of his surroundings; he
found it difficult to communicate verbally.

The close presence of his female security advisor was
reassuring along with the comforting aroma of her L’Oréal perfume
as it wafted past his nostrils. Involuntarily his lungs expended
and he breathed in deeply savouring the relaxing scent.

Jansen took one last lingering look at the situation,
then pressed the re-dial button on his mobile phone. The prime
minister answered.

‘HQ, PM here...’

‘Hello sir, the bullet has been successfully
embedded,’ Jansen could hear shoots of joy at the other end of the
line as the PM passed on the news. It was as if the whole ghastly
incident had suddenly been solved, when in fact, the crisis had
hardly begun.

‘You can tell the police minister to get everybody
out of the tunnel immediately,’commander Jones passed on the order
and signalled to the terrorist that the way would be clear for them
to go. Kazeny and Sharazi looked relieved and seized the president,
dragging him between them towards the tunnels western exit.

Jack Magnus and Ellen Monard reluctantly let go of
their top man; both with tears in their eyes. Garner, his face
drawn and body sagging, showed no emotion as he was swept away from
his last civilized anchorage point, his fate now cast to the
machinations of the BIB.

Magnus and Monard both walked into the arms of
sergeant Thomson and commander Jones, hugging each other as the BIB
horde exited the tunnel. Three of the secret service agents joined
the group as they comforted each other. For the Australian
authorities the worst was now over, but for the Americans, the
worst was yet to come.

Jansen watched the two terrorists drag the president
down the tunnel, followed by the rest of the BIB team shouting and
shaking their RPG launchers and machine guns in the air in triumph.
They had won their battle with the Australian authorities but the
price had been high...too high for the Americans, recrimination,
accusation and retaliation would now follow.

Chapter Thirty-three

President Jenkins stood at the head of the table in
the White House situation room along with the joint chiefs of
staff, the military chiefs, the directors of the CIA, FBI and the
National Security Agency.

To his right were the acting White House chief of
staff and security advisor, both newly appointed yes men, virtually
without portfolio, as far as the rest of the luminaries were
concerned. Jenkins had now taken to raising hands in all important
vote issues, with the full knowledge that he had the numbers. He
read out the latest communiqué from Australia.

The terrorists or Black Islamic Brigade (BIB), as
they are now openly calling themselves -- no reference to skin
colour by the way -- are flying out of Australia with the US
president in a chartered Lear Jet. The aircraft has been modified
to carry extra fuel tanks, and they will be landing away from
public terminals. The jet will refuel at Darwin, Singapore, and
Muscat, before finally landing in Tehran,’ the chief of the air
force jerked his head in Jenkin’s direction.

‘We can have a fully functional fighter force with
refuelable air support ready to go in thirty minutes sir.’

‘Good, but at this stage we need something a little
less drastic, we’ll just keep the fighter force on hold for the
moment,’ the air force chief bit his lip

‘Thankfully the presidential security advisor and
chief of staff were spared and will be flying back to the US in a
few days time,’ a subdued cheer erupted around the table, it was
the only bit of good news from the entire hostage debacle.

‘Now gentleman, at last we have some measure of
control. We will of course be shadowing the Learjet all the way to
the Iranian border, from there onwards, the president will be lost
to us in mind and body, however his location will still be
accessible to us. As you are all aware by now we have applied the
classified high-tech DS302 monitoring device to the president -- he
is now unwittingly our virtual ears and eyes,’ Jenkin’s squinted
sharply at his air force chief.

‘What are our nuclear options in this case
general.’

‘Well sir, the most sensible response might be a
small to medium tactical nuclear device. This would wipe out most
substantial buildings within a radius of one kilometer and create
one hundred percent fatalities at five hundred metres around ground
zero.’

‘I see, that would be a good tit for tat political
counter measure for the elimination of 4000 US troops and the
abduction of the president, and if that isn’t a multiple act of war
against the United States I don’t know what is,’ the joint chief
frowned dramatically.

‘What we do need now is a suitable target option
sir.’

‘We have one...our president has unequivocally
volunteered. By the time we’re in position to deliver the weapon
he’ll be on trial in Iran,’ the defence chief looked up from his
notes.

‘But surely Mr. president, you don’t intend to
unleash this on the Iranian general assembly. All the members of
the supreme council, the Supreme Leader and the president will all
be annihilated.’

‘Exactly -- casualties of war -- the Iranians next
stop could well be a nuclear attack on Washington. With just one
clean strike we can wipe out the whole Iranian leadership before
they do the same to us,’ the chief of the army shook his head in
bewilderment.

‘Couldn’t we just tell them not to put the president
on trial or they’ll all burn in hell.’

‘Look George, we’re not playing tiddlywinks, we will
probably never get a chance like this again. One quick surgical
strike is all we need, and its all over. The main contender in the
axis of evil will be vanquished forever,’the chief of the air force
brightened and leaned forward in his chair.

‘Possibly the best way to deliver such a strike sir
is by a remote controlled drone aircraft.’

‘You mean a hi-tech flying bomb -- a drone with a
lethal payload in it’s nose.’

‘Exactly sir, we could bring it in on a low
trajectory and home in on the DS302 homing device, then terminate
it on contact with the target,’ Jenkins looked perceptively at his
air force chief.

‘I presume this would be a conventional explosive
device with a limited destructive capacity.’

‘Yes sir...we wouldn’t want to kill too many
civilians,' Jenkin’s frowned.

‘The whole purpose of this exercise is to produce
maximum casualties rates in order to wipe out the ruling Iranian
elite. If we can’t achieve that, there is no point in continuing
with the project. Of course it needs to be a surgical strike, but
we need a weapon with a powerful killing range, the deaths of a few
civilians is inevitable,’ Jerkins pondered for a short while on his
next statement.

‘We will of course have to occupy the country and set
up a regime favourable to the United States. The national security
director suddenly perked up...

‘Is that wise sir...it could result in a new Asian
conflagration involving all the Muslim states.’

‘I have considered that director, and if we silence
the ruling Iranian elite, then, we have no choice but to invade on
a temporary basis. There will be a need to initially bomb Iran’s
nuclear facility at Bushier on the coast, to prevent it from
falling into enemy hands.’

‘But this is initially an economic agreement with
Russia and Iran sir...the debt is enormous...it is certain to
infuriate the Russians.’

‘True, but since this facility is being funded by the
Russians, they will want some input here...it gives them an excuse
to put troops into Iran...which of course is the last thing we
want. If the facility is destroyed then there is less chance of
Russian troops being sent there.’

‘I can’t agree with that sir...isn’t this also a good
reason to send Russian troops into Iran -- this will come back to
haunt us sir,’ Jenkins smiled knowingly,

‘Doesn’t every significant policy decision do that,
one way or another? I might as well say what we’re all thinking
anyway; Iran is better off as a controlled low-tech nation, rather
than an out of control high-tech nation. Bare in mind gentleman,
Iran is also designated as one of the controlling partners in the
axis of evil, if we remove the major partner, it will break up this
vicious axis.’

The national security director looked more flustered
than usual, and forcefully twisted his features, as if he
desperately wanted to get something off his mind.

‘There’s an ancient Jewish proverb Mr.
president...‘
if you live for revenge dig a grave for two,
’
Jenkins stifled a sneer.

‘Well in that case director, we’d better dig graves
for the entire American nation, because every hot blooded American
worth his or her salt will want a killing over this.’

Chapter Thirty-four

The modified Lear Jet 60 carrying the BIB terrorists
now had an effective nonstop range of 5000 miles, nearly three
times its normal capacity. The downside to this dramatic upgrade
was a reduction in speed of 100 mph to 490 mph and large modified
fuel tanks. The aircraft was now on the penultimate leg of its
flight with Muscat as the next refueling stop.

Kazeni and Sharazi sat directly opposite president
Garner who was handcuffed to the seat with the rest of the BIB who
were bedded down in the rear of the plane.

Kazeni took a concerted interest in his victim for
the first time, after reading an article in one of the planes
in-flight magazines stowed away in the front pocket of his seat .
His continual staring began to annoy Garner, and he tried hard not
to show displeasure in his face. Kazeni began to compare a photo of
the president in the magazine with the real thing in front of
him.

So this was the prize
--
the president of the
United States
--
his face was ashen and his blue tinged lips
were trembling. He looked anything but the ultimate leader of the
western world. He seemed much older then his media photos and TV
appearances. The makeup crew must have done a cracking job on what
seemed to be a rapidly ageing man.

Stripped of his presidential powers, and now a mere
non entity, he was little more than a tragic figure head, but
considering the faith and kudos the Americans placed in their
leader, he had to be kept alive and kicking for the big payoff in
Tehran, and indeed, the world, once they had him on trial.

Kazeni’s interest began to subside after a
disappointing appraisal of America’s top man, he was just too
ordinary, except for one thing, his nose was slightly different to
his photo image, this unremarkable flaw rekindled his interest.

He continued squinting silently at Garner, then
suddenly took hold of his lapels, yanking him upright. His hand
cuffs snagged on the seat arm causing Garner to yell in pain.
Kazeni quickly removed them and tossed them on the floor. He
brought his pistol close to Garner’s face then slashed it across
his nose, breaking it in two places, blood poured out of both
nostrils. Garner clutched his nose with both hands to stem the
bleeding. He ripped a handkerchief from his top pocket and
smothered his face with the generous linen material. Kazeni laughed
outrageously.