by Jeff Nesbit
If Russia did not serve as a hedge against the wealthy superpowers like America that operated across the globe with impunity, who would?
China might one day be able to counter the US in raw innovation and power—but not for at least another decade. The Chinese were still churning out a thousand engineers every year just to keep pace with the one or two engineers trained at US higher education institutions capable of creating, developing, and assembling engines of innovation. The Chinese were literally throwing massive numbers of bodies at social, economic, and scientific problems, knowing that 99 percent would fail. The Chinese society inched forward based on the small numbers who achieved in spite of the hurdles before them.
Rowan, though, had adopted a hybrid philosophy—mix in a little capitalism, a little Western-style education and democracy, and then overlay it with the historic Russian command and control system, a strong military, and a world-class intelligence network.
He was taking the best of the lessons the West had learned and mixing those in with the true ideals of the communist state. Build and inspire where you can, but take what you must.
Rowan was willing to make any deal, with any partner, that suited his grand purpose. Russia would return to its former glory. There was no question at all about his future success.
Russia’s recent venture in Israel was a wonderful example. What could have been an unmitigated disaster for the Russian economy was rapidly turning into an intelligence and diplomatic success story. Even as the world’s oil economy teetered and swayed toward chaos, Rowan believed Russia had at last found a viable path forward.
Russia depended heavily on oil but often relied on the good graces of unstable Middle Eastern partners in Iran, Saudi Arabia, and elsewhere. Rowan had made a series of moves over the years to seize control of the oil companies in Russia and bring them under his control. To set an iron example for the others, he’d presented the largest private oil company in Russia, Kosvo Oil, with a tax bill of $27 billion in 2003, declared it bankrupt, and then sold its assets to other firms.
Even though Russia’s oil and gas industry was quite large, it was faced with enormous challenges. Though it had the largest reserves of natural gas in the world, the second largest coal reserves, and significant oil reserves, it was badly in need of massive investments to unlock those reserves. It produced a tenth of the world’s oil, yet also consumed a vast amount as well.
Rowan had done his best to spread the wealth among the remaining state-owned oil, gas, and pipeline companies. But his latest move to position Russia at the cusp of the greatest explosion of oil extraction the world had ever seen was, he believed, the final chess move that would return his country to its former greatness.
Then his intelligence chiefs at the SVR had delivered precise information stolen from the world’s largest private oil company on breakthrough technology to efficiently extract oil from shale.
The technology—designed to safely and cheaply super-heat the shale, forcing the oil to rise to the surface—was shockingly workable. It had no environmental side effects. No oil leaked into the surrounding environment. There was actually a net surplus of water, which had always been the major stumbling block in previous efforts to extract oil from shale.
And now, Rowan hoped, he was about to hear good news from his top aide on his return from Israel.
There was a knock on the door to his private study, away from the prying eyes and ears of the Duma. “Mr. Prime Minister?” his aide, Nicolai Petrov, called from the doorway.
“You’ve returned, signatures in hand?” Rowan answered.
Petrov stepped through the doorway. “I have. The papers have been filed with the Ministry of Infrastructures in Jerusalem.”
“INOC’s leaders are happy with our investment?”
“They are.”
“And they are willing to work with us in the basin, on this new technology?”
“They are.” Petrov paused. “But Mr. Prime Minister, there is potential conflict we’ll need to work through.”
“Which is?”
“We have competition.”
“We’ve stolen what we need,” Rowan said, laughing. “We don’t need to worry about them. I’ve already given the research to our own companies. They’ve assured me that they can create a working oil shale manufacturing facility within two years. We already have the working schematics for it in the Negev. And we have what we need in our partnership with INOC… .”
“No, it’s not any of that,” Petrov said uneasily.
“Then what?”
“It’s Israel Energy Research.”
Rowan glared at his top aide. “They’re a glorified think tank. And they’re not even Israeli to speak of, despite their name. So?”
“Their chief geologist just gave a talk in the United States at the yearly symposium of the Colorado School of Mines. He released their own assessment and presented data that the oil shale reserves at Shfela Basin near Jerusalem were the equivalent of 250 billion barrels of oil. That’s roughly the same amount of proven reserves in Saudi Arabia.”
“Again—so? It’s an academic researcher, talking hypothetically about oil shale,” Rowan said. “People have been talking about this for decades, and no one has taken them seriously.”
“Maybe, but when you combine this with the US Geological Survey data showing that the Tamar and Leviathan natural gas fields off the coast of Haifa in the Levant Basin may hold as much as two hundred trillion cubic feet, people are starting to pay attention. There’s speculation that, between the oil shale and the natural gas fields off its coast, Israel is about to become a world oil superpower.”
Rowan thumped his hand on the table. “Idle speculation,” he said, his voice rising. “They haven’t extracted any natural gas yet. We have nearly that much in our own reserves here. And no one is taking the Levant Basin gas reserves and oil shale extraction technology story seriously—other than us.”
Petrov waited a moment before continuing. He did not like to anger his boss. “That’s not entirely the case…”
“Enlighten me.”
“Well, Greece, for one, is actively talking to Israel about building out a transportation hub that would carry natural gas from the Tamar and Leviathan fields off the coast of Israel and distribute it throughout all of Europe. Greece is also talking about undersea pipelines that would carry the gas to Europe from the Eastern Mediterranean. That would seriously change the political situation in Europe.”
“Fine. But it’s still talk.”
Petrov took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Yes, but Israel Energy Research says it will have hard numbers and research on the true dimension of Israel’s undersea natural gas and oil shale deposits in the next few months. This won’t be a secret much longer…”
“Which is why we are moving so quickly with INOC and the Israeli government partnership,” Rowan said quickly. “We’re there first.”
“But we aren’t,” Petrov said anxiously. “Their chief scientist has also just said publicly that they have the same oil extraction technology that we do, perhaps even better. And I must remind you, Israel Energy Research is actually owned by the American telecom IBC group—”
“Which has nothing to do with oil and gas exploration.”
“But their subsidiary, Aladdin Oil & Gas, does. It’s a division of IBC. Israel Energy is run by Aladdin. And two very serious investors— two of the wealthiest men in the world—showed up in the past day. They took a ten percent stake in Aladdin—and seats on its board.”
“Who?” Rowan asked, afraid of the answer.
“Joseph Rothman, the chairman of Vienna Financial, the world’s largest network of banks and financial institutions, and K. Robert Moorhead, the chairman of Wolf Corp., the world’s largest media empire. And for good measure, they also put Charles Raney, the former American vice president, on their board. Israel Energy and Aladdin are now very serious players. This is formidable competition.”
“But still American, at the end
of the day,” Rowan said. “Which means our partnership with Israel’s National Oil Company is even more central than we’d planned. We need to get to the Shfela Basin first, before the Americans. We must get there first. Our future depends on it.”
20
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Nash was never a fan of indoor offices. It just wasn’t in his nature. He much preferred to be outdoors, without suits and ties. It was one of the joys of serving as a young gun CEO of an NGO and global communications network. He could move around freely.
He liked nothing better than to be out on the back of a motorbike, headed toward a remote African village to see a patient with TB or malaria. To him, that was the real, central work of everything his Village Health Corps network did in several dozen underdeveloped countries. They saved lives, and Nash always liked being where that action was.
But he also fully realized the value of what mVillage had become in recent years. As totalitarian regimes and dictators had learned the rules of the Internet, they’d become much better at closing off gates and pathways for free information.
After all, Internet traffic everywhere on the planet was controlled and managed by only three hundred or so central “gigapop” centers, where virtually all information was routed. Big companies did a good job of building in redundancies. But at the end of the day, if a country wanted to literally turn off Internet access, it could. North Korea did it routinely—even now. So did other countries in times of high tension.
VHC’s mVillage network, though, was a nearly unstoppable force. It was not dependent on the Internet, on satellites, or even on individual cell phone carriers. Its mobile apps could freely float across any and all networks. Black market SIM cards with mVillage apps had become ubiquitous across the world, allowing any user to access mVillage from virtually any mobile platform.
For this reason, Nash knew, mVillage had become the social network of choice for any revolution, any disaffected minority, any social group that wanted to effect change, or any community that simply wanted to stay engaged in a fractured media environment. Traditional media might have lost its ability to gather mass audiences, but mVillage was beginning to change those rules.
All of which meant that there were times—like now, in Riyadh— where he played by the rules and showed up at crucial meetings in a suit and tie. Su and several of his friends at the State Department had arranged for Nash and Badr Ahmad to meet in Riyadh that afternoon with Abdul al Faisal to discuss mVillage network—and the Saudi intelligence concerns about it. They’d just left VHC’s modest offices and were making their way down the King Fahd Road in Badr’s dilapidated Volvo.
Prince Abdul was an extraordinarily interesting figure. He was, to any astute observer, the member of the House of Saud who made everything work. He’d been the director general of Saudi intelligence, then the Saudi ambassador to the United States for a time. There had occasionally been a flurry of press attention to clandestine roles that Prince Abdul had played in keeping al Qaeda out of the kingdom, but nothing concrete had ever materialized.
He’d recently given up his post in Washington in order to return to Saudi Arabia for an academic and ceremonial post as the head of the King Fahd Center for Islamic Studies. The scientific and academic research center drew on some of the best minds in the kingdom to discuss emerging trends and held conferences on a regular basis.
But for those who understood what was happening in the very complicated line of succession within the House of Saud, observers believed that Abdul al Faisal had returned to this post to wait for an appointment as the next Saudi foreign minister—perhaps in the very near future.
Nash had been thoroughly briefed on Prince Abdul’s situation by his friends at State. He knew that, in all likelihood, he was about to meet with the person whom the House of Saud had designated to manage the kingdom’s foreign affairs going forward.
Today’s meeting was absolutely critical to any forward movement for the mVillage network in Saudi Arabia. Their success—or failure— would depend on the outcome of the meeting.
Nash’s mobile buzzed. He glanced down at the caller ID. It was Katie Devlin, who had been instrumental at State in arranging the meeting that Nash and Badr were now headed toward at the King Fahd Center in downtown Riyadh. She and Su were very good friends. Katie kept his fiancée occupied when he was running around the world.
“We’re on our way to the meeting,” Nash said as he picked up the call.
“So everything is set?” Katie asked.
“All set. We’re meeting at the King Fahd Center.”
“You do know how difficult this was to set up, right?” Katie asked.
“So you’ll be on your best behavior?”
“I’ll be charming, as always,” he said, chuckling.
“Yes, please. Be charming—as I know you can be when you choose to be.”
“Hey! Not fair,” Nash said.
“It is fair.” Katie laughed. “Just remember that State set this up…”
“So I’m representing you. Yeah, I know. I’ll behave.”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Clearly, Katie had called for a reason and struggled with how to convey the message. “You know,” she said finally, “there are times when it’s just a little more important than usual to be on your best behavior, Nash. This is one of those times.”
Nash had known Katie for some time. He knew when she was speaking in a veiled way about something she really wanted to say. She’d done it, more than once, when she knew something from Su but couldn’t tell Nash because Su had sworn her to secrecy. This was classic Katie.
“All right, Katie,” Nash said, “I get it. There’s more to this meeting, or to the guy I’m meeting with, or maybe both?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “Let me just say this. Meetings with members of the House of Saud are especially important right now. And meetings with people like you are important. The Saudis are testing every single strand of their relationship with the US.”
“But I’m not government,” Nash protested. “Why would they care?”
“You might as well be, considering the power that mVillage has. And they all know your father is Ethan Lee.”
“Who is the US ambassador to Japan and has nothing whatsoever to do with either the House of Saud or anything in the kingdom.”
“True. But the Saudis are all about deep, tangled connections. Nothing is ever what it seems. They almost certainly view you as some sort of proxy for State. And they are currently critically examining every one of those proxies closely.”
“Why? Has something happened I should know about?”
“Not a good question to ask,” Katie said evasively. “I will say this. Be sensitive to what you’re hearing from Prince Abdul. He’s likely to test your resolve, ask your true intentions with mVillage, push you on what you might or might not know. I’m only urging you to be on your best behavior and to tell him the truth about your intentions.”
“Which is that mVillage can connect people in ways he’d like and appreciate. Community health workers, for one, will benefit from the mVillage network. It’s a positive force, not something to be feared or controlled by them. We can help them build bridges in communities.”
“Yes, talk about that. And talk about how committed you are to working with them.”
“Sure,” Nash said. “But that’s it?”
“Just keep your eyes open,” she answered. “There’s a lot going on at the moment. Some of it has to do with events that are likely to involve folks like Prince Abdul and others in the House of Saud.”
“Like?”
“Like—just recognize that Prince Abdul and the others in the House of Saud are especially sensitive to events in other countries.”
“You mean Yemen?”
“Yes, exactly like Yemen. Not to mention Egypt, Jordan, Iraq, and Bahrain on their other borders. The Arab Spring revolts are everywhere, all around the kingdom. The House of Saud is on edge in a way we
’ve never seen.”
Nash hated to talk about things like this. He was all about the “relentless, positive storm” and social change through action and technology, not conflict. But he also knew that he had to pay attention to conflict, because it was central to so much of their work.
“Got it. The Saudis are nervous. They’re wondering if the Arab Spring revolts are about to show up on their doorstep.”
“Exactly. Old enemies and old conflicts have a way of reappearing at times like these to cause trouble,” Katie said.
“Like al Qaeda, I’d imagine,” Nash answered. “They’ve never moved against the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. They’ve been awfully quiet of late in the middle of everything that’s been happening in Egypt, Jordan, Syria, and now Yemen.”
“Just be mindful of the times and the audience. And behave. Okay?”
“I promise,” Nash said. “I’m wearing a tie.”
“Shirt buttoned at the top?”
Nash reached to his throat reflexively and fastened the top button that he chronically left unbuttoned. “It is now,” he said, laughing.
“Good. So now you’re set.”
21
Change Square
Sana’a University, Yemen
These were unusual times. Protesters from the Muslim Brotherhood, Islah, and several Houthi rebel tribes had managed to mingle and protest in the square on the outskirts of Yemen’s leading university for the better part of four weeks without incident. They had a common goal—and a common enemy—that kept the peace.
Yes, there had been clashes. Early in the protests, half a dozen Houthis and Islah opposition party members had fought each other with their traditional Yemeni daggers, or jambiyahs, after one group had gotten too loud and boisterous in the square. But the Muslim Brotherhood and Houthi leadership had settled their differences.
Both, in fact, wanted the same thing—an end to the rule of Yemen’s long-serving president, Ali Kahar. They were all united behind one common cause. They wanted him to step down and call for democratic elections.
