by Dale Brown
“The President has been fully briefed on the incident in Qom, Iran, but most of the information the White House has received has been through unverified Middle East news sources,” Lewars went on brusquely. “The President reiterates that his main desire is peace, stability, and democracy in the entire region, and indeed the entire world, and the United States stands ready to assist any group that stands for the very same things.” He made a few brief remarks on several other matters, then closed his briefing folder and offered, “Questions.”
The questions came rapid-fire, but Lewars was accustomed to dealing with lots of panicked, babbling individuals, and he waded through the Q&A with a distracted, almost detached indifference—most times he did not even look at the questioner, but shuffled his notes without expression or gestures. It was a lot like watching grass grow. “Is there a coup taking place in Iran, General?” one reporter blurted out. “Are we going to war?”
“No one’s going to war. We don’t know the details yet. It could be Kurdish rebels, anti-clerical insurgents, or a Sunni Muslim retaliation against the Shi’ite dominated theocratic regime.”
“Does the President want to see the Ahmadad government or the clerical regime fall?”
“I refer you to my earlier remarks,” Lewars said, almost spitting the words. Then, deciding he’d better tell them rather than leaving it up to their powers of recall: “The President wants peace, stability, and democracy. The President doesn’t agree with or endorse the Iranian way of picking candidates for office—basically the Ayatollah Shīrāzemi picks the candidate he wants, and the Council of Guardians rubber-stamps their approval and pulls any other candidates off the ballot. The people have no say. That said, the fact remains that Ahmadad was put in power peacefully and constitutionally, as flawed as their electoral process is.
“As far as a military uprising, rebellion, or whatever might transpire in Iran: again, any such action usually doesn’t contribute to peace, stability, and democracy, and so President Martindale views such violent actions as undesirable for the people of Iran, their neighbors, customers, and other interested persons and powers in the Middle East. The President believes that military coups take power away from the people by force of arms.”
“But if the clerical regime is deposed, even if by force of arms, and is replaced by a regime friendlier to the West…?”
“That’s speculation. We don’t have the facts.” He left that reporter a dark scowl and glanced at another, then resumed taking notes, head down, not making eye contact with anyone. “You. Question.”
“There are reports that the United States sent a special operations team inside Iran to assist the rebellion. Comment, General?”
“That report did not originate within this administration, so I can’t comment on it.”
“So you’re denying it?”
“I said I can’t comment on it.”
“General, ‘no comment’ is not an answer,” the reporter persisted. “I understand if you don’t want to confirm or deny it, but you must have some comment. Either you don’t know or you refuse to say, but you can’t just…”
“Excuse me…Mr. Richland of the Sun, correct?” Lewars said, looking up from his notes and impaling the reporter with a deadly asphalt-melting stare. “Let me make myself crystal clear to you: I don’t have the time or the inclination to comment on rumors, innuendo, guesses, or anything but the Administration’s official statements. If you want to fantasize, go back to writing about endangered snail darters and Alaskan caribou.” He waited for the reporter to say something in return, but the reporter tried to appear busy writing notes and didn’t return Lewars’s glare, so he turned to the other side of the press briefing room. “You. Go.”
“Would President Martindale ever send any military forces into Iran to assist any opposition or insurgent groups take over the clerical regime?”
“Again, I cannot comment on every hypothetical situation thrown at me. However, I can say that in my conversations with the President he has never indicated any willingness or desire to support any military opposition or insurgent groups in Iran. He has expressed his desire for peace, stability, and democracy in all nations of the world who oppress and repress their citizens, and he wants to do anything he can to help those nations fight off their oppressors and build a better society and government for their people. But it must be done pursuant to the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, in the context of a peaceful, democratic framework established by the people, their representatives, and the rule of law. Next.”
“General, the Russian embassy called several media outlets and complained that the United States was illegally flying manned spaceplanes over their sovereign airspace without permission. Any truth to this complaint?”
“We receive hundreds of complaints every day from the Russians ranging from illegal fishing to playing music too loudly at our embassy parties,” Lewars said, again without looking up and without any change or inflection in his voice—but unseen was the sweat prickling out around his collar. “No matter how many trivial or just plain bogus complaints we get, the State Department fully investigates each and every one.”
“But you’re not denying an illegal overflight took place?”
“Every complaint filed by any person or nation is investigated. When the investigation is over we’ll reveal the results. Until then, we keep quiet about it. Thanks to you good folks in the media, sometimes mere accusations carry the weight of outright guilt if overpublicized. Don’t you agree?”
“Is it the Air Force’s new hypersonic bomber, General? Is the Pentagon overflying Russia with a new bomber?”
“We don’t comment on the movement of any military or government vehicles. Aircraft, spacecraft, and surface vessels of all kinds transit sovereign airspace all the time. The Russians send a dozen spy satellites a day over the United…”
“This is the second such complaint by the Russians this month,” the reporter insisted. “They claim they have proof we are conducting illegal espionage and harassment missions over their country.”
“I haven’t seen their proof or any formal diplomatic protests. Until I do, it’s speculation. Next.”
“General, rumor has been circulating for months about…”
“Wait one, folks,” Lewars interrupted, maintaining his stiff posture and manner and trying like hell to avoid appearing too exasperated. “I know I haven’t been in this job very long, but you should have all realized by now that I won’t answer questions based on speculation, rumor, hypothesis, or conjecture. Are there any questions I can answer on behalf of the President, Vice President, the Cabinet, or the executive branch of government regarding any of the topics that I’ve already briefed?” He waited a couple heartbeats; then: “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll be happy to take e-mailed questions and I’ll be available in the press room at the usual hours.” He quickly stepped off the dais as the television reporters moved to the front, ready to give on-air and taped on-camera summaries.
Lewars went to his office, answered a few phone calls, then went to the Oval Office, where the President was already meeting with the members of his national security staff: Vice President Hershel, Secretary of Defense Gardner, Secretary of State Carson, National Security Adviser Sparks, Joint Chiefs Chairman Glenbrook, and Director of Central Intelligence Gerald Vista. Chief of Staff Carl Minden looked up from his tablet PC computer as Lewars entered. “Thought you were going to lose it for a moment, Tony,” he commented.
“I never ‘lose it,’ Mr. Minden,” Lewars said sternly. “If the press corps wants to hear me say ‘I won’t speculate’ a dozen times during these briefings, fine with me. I tried to save them a little time, that’s all.” He turned to the President and added, “They definitely got a strong sniff of the spaceplane overflight, sir, and it won’t take long before the Russians’ claim is substantiated by tracking data from some other country. I need a cover, nonspecific but enough detail to keep their editors happy for
a few days. I suggest we tell the press it was an unarmed classified military spacecraft, one of many that routinely transits Russian airspace in accordance with international aviation laws, and leave it at that.”
“We need a ruling from the White House counsel on exactly what the law says about spacecraft overflight,” Carl Minden said.
“An official ruling is fine, but I can tell you what the Outer Space Treaty says: no one can regulate space travel or access to Earth orbit,” National Security Adviser General Jonas Sparks said. “That’s been the case ever since Sputnik. Besides, we have dozens of Russian spy satellites overflying us every damned day.”
“True,” Secretary of State Mary Carson said. She turned to President Martindale and continued, “But sir, that only applies to spacecraft in Earth orbit. If General McLanahan’s men flew the spaceplane through the atmosphere over Russia, that’s a violation.”
“Hell, Doc, we flew spy planes across each other’s borders for decades,” Sparks said. “It was so commonplace, it became a game.”
“And we’re on the path to returning to the Cold War mentality that existed back then,” Carson retorted. “Sir, if we continue to allow General McLanahan and his spaceplanes to just flit across the planet like that without advising anyone, sooner or later someone’s going to mistake it for an intercontinental ballistic missile and fire a real missile. Overflying Russia with a satellite in a mostly fixed and predictable orbit is one thing—having an armed spaceplane suddenly appear on a Russian radar screen out of nowhere could trigger a hostile response. A simple courtesy message on the ‘hotline’ to Moscow or even to the Russian embassy in Washington would be sufficient.”
“Frankly, Mary, I don’t feel very courteous when it comes to the Russians,” the President said.
“I mean, sir, that a simple advisory might prevent an international diplomatic row, a retaliatory overflight, or at worse someone getting nervous and pushing the button to start another attack.”
“Okay, Mary, I get the message,” the President said. He turned to the Secretary of Defense: “Joe, get together with Mary and draft up a directive for General McLanahan and anyone else using the spaceplanes to notify the State Department to issue an advisory to the Russian foreign ministry in a timely manner. That should be sufficiently ambiguous to allow us some leeway in when to report.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Gardner glanced at Carson’s exasperated expression but did not comment.
He could always count on Mary Carson to bring up all the negatives about each and every situation crossing his desk, Martindale thought—her comments always served to head off possible difficulties, even though he generally thought she pressed the panic button too often and too soon to suit him. “It’s not the Russians I’m concerned about right now, folks—it’s the Iranians,” the President said. “Gerald, what do you have?”
“Not much yet, sir,” Director of Central Intelligence Gerald Vista responded. “No one has heard from any of the clerics or most of the executive branch of the Iranian government for days.”
“My office has been trying repeatedly to get a statement from the Iranian U.N. ambassador, but he’s nowhere to be found,” Secretary of State Carson added, “and some of the NATO foreign ministries who still have diplomatic ties with Iran tell us the Iranian ambassadors and consuls have dropped out of sight.”
“Sounds like they’re lying low,” the President observed. “But is Buzhazi the reason, and if he’s powerful enough to scare government officials as far way as New York City, does he have a chance of succeeding in engineering a military coup?” He turned to Joint Chiefs chairman Glenbrook. “What about the Iranian army, General?”
“The latest we have is the regular armed forces are still in their garrisons, sir,” Glenbrook said. “We don’t know if they’re just staying in defensive positions, awaiting orders, or defying orders and not going out to hunt down Buzhazi and his insurgents. A few specialized units have mobilized—we think those units will try an assault on the Khomeini Library in Qom within forty-eight hours.”
“This has been a Pasdaran fight so far,” Vista said. “We haven’t seen any regular army involved. Maybe the Pasdaran has been weakened to the point where they can’t do the job.”
“Is it possible that we haven’t heard from the clerics or the president of Iran that were apparently in Qom…because they’re dead?” Vice President Maureen Hershel asked. She turned to a video teleconference unit on the credenza beside her. “General McLanahan?”
“Unfortunately General Briggs didn’t ask that question when he met up with General Buzhazi at the Khomeini Library in Qom, ma’am,” Patrick McLanahan said from the command center at Elliott Air Force Base in Nevada. Instead of a business suit and tie, he was wearing his trademark Dreamland black flight suit, a wireless earpiece stuck in his left ear, surrounded by his battle staff officers. He hadn’t officially taken over the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center yet, but he was clearly the man in charge. Maureen couldn’t help but smile. Patrick never looked comfortable wearing a business suit or attending meetings in the White House. He was back in his element, where he belonged. “General Briggs’s objective was to degrade the Pasdaran units surrounding the library and make contact with Buzhazi if possible, all without compromising his men or the Black Stallion spaceplane.”
“Is Buzhazi still in Qom?”
“It’s unclear, ma’am,” Patrick replied. “We should be getting a satellite image update soon. General Briggs estimated Buzhazi’s force inside the library at around a thousand men, well-equipped—apparently there was a large weapons cache inside the mosque and library. If they departed, it wouldn’t take them long.”
“You actually think Hesarak Buzhazi would slaughter a bunch of clerics and government officials inside one of the holiest sites in Iran?” the President asked incredulously.
“Back when he was chief of staff and commander of the Pasdaran, I’d say ‘never’—five thousand Americans on an aircraft carrier, yes, but a bunch of power-hungry Muslim clerics, never,” Maureen replied. “But the man was dumped, disgraced, nearly assassinated, and relegated to training half-crazy volunteer fighters. He went from leading the fight for the clerical regime to nothing almost overnight. If anyone’s got an axe to grind against the current regime, it’s him.”
“Let’s say he succeeds,” the President asked. “Would he be worse than the clerical regime, or would he work with us to help stabilize the region—and perhaps even assist the West in stopping the current tide of radical fundamentalist Islamists operating around the world?”
Maureen turned to the speakerphone and said, “The only two Americans who have spoken to him since his insurgency began are Generals Briggs and McLanahan. Patrick? What are your thoughts?”
“He swore up, down, and sideways that he was going to take down the theocracy or die trying, ma’am,” Patrick said. “My initial gut reaction is I don’t trust him, but everything he’s done so far points to one thing: his objective is the destruction of the Pasdaran and elimination of the theocracy. I don’t know if he wants to become the strong-armed dictator of Iran, but if he gets the support of the regular army he could certainly take over.”
“But what are the chances of that?”
“He’s a disgraced military chief of staff who was blamed for Iran’s greatest military defeat in history,” CIA director Vista said. “He tossed away a third of Iran’s navy in just a few days, including the Middle East’s first aircraft carrier. Not only that, but he was commander of the Pasdaran—he gave the orders that resulted in the executions of thousands of regular army soldiers, government officials, and ordinary citizens, usually on skimpy or no evidence whatsoever, on allegations they conspired against the clerical regime. The regular army would never follow him.”
“I disagree, Director Vista,” Patrick radioed. “Because he refused to be exiled—he was given a shit job that should have killed him and he excelled in it. He purged the Basij, the paramilitary group of volunteers, of al
l the radicals and fundamentalists, and he turned it into a real fighting force—and he did it with pure leadership, convincing the dedicated men and women in the Basij to get rid of the maniacs. He turned the organization around without resorting to intimidation or violence. The grunts respect that. I think he has a very good reputation with the regular army. Combine all that with the regular army’s hatred of the Pasdaran, and I think Buzhazi is lining himself up very nicely for a coup d’état.”
“My information says otherwise,” Vista insisted. “Buzhazi is an outsider. Besides, the regulars are too afraid of the Pasdaran to support a rebellion, especially one without any other support besides a few thousand volunteers.”
“OK, folks, I need some ideas,” the President said, barely masking his impatience. “Let’s assume Buzhazi survives Qom. What happens next? Gerald?”
“Overall I’d say his odds are terrible, sir,” the CIA chief replied. “He needs the regular army—his little group of Basij fighters can’t survive against the Pasdaran. The Pasdaran is like the U.S. Marine Corps, except much larger with respect to the regular army: while our Marine Corps is one-tenth the size of the army, the Pasdaran is one-third the size of their entire armed forces, and just as well equipped; I would equate Buzhazi’s Basij fighters with a well-trained Army National Guard infantry battalion.”
