Oil

by Jeff Nesbit

  “It doesn’t matter,” Gould said. “You’re presenting information based on highly classified intelligence. We closed it based on that alone. This is nothing more than our usual briefing during a secret session of the Senate. We’ve just invited the House to take part.”

  Gould and the president rode alone in the back of the presidential limousine. Susan Wright and General Alton were in the second limousine that trailed the motorcade. DJ was riding with the small press pool that was coming along but would be forced to wait outside the halls of Congress while the president spoke to the members of Congress in a closed session.

  “But we both know the information I present won’t hold for long,” the president said. “Half of the senators and congressmen will leak the information the moment the doors open.”

  “Most likely,” Gould stated. “But we have to let them know about the events. No one can predict where this thing will go—not now that the Saudi kingdom is on the edge of the abyss. If the attacks that are headed to Mecca are somehow successful in removing the governor of Mecca, Prince Muhammad, and a real revolution starts in the kingdom, then we’ll have our hands full for some time.”

  Camara grimaced. “Natal and the conservative forces will close ranks in the kingdom. They’ll shut down every attempt at moderation. But he will have unleashed powerful forces—ones that he can’t control. I wonder if he realizes he’s playing with fire by dallying with Tehran as he has.”

  “Absolutely,” Gould nodded. “Natal is playing a very dangerous game—especially with talk of the return of a caliphate and an imam who shows up from nowhere, it seems, claiming to be a hidden imam and the Mahdi. Who know what chaos Natal has set loose?”

  The president turned in the car seat to look directly at his chief of staff. “I wanted to make certain of something. I can’t mention Natal’s role in the assassination of the king? I can’t talk of his complicity with Tehran?”

  “No, you can’t,” Gould said firmly.

  “Not even with the information Nash Lee provided us? Don’t we have a responsibility to at least let the Saudis know?”

  “We can’t,” Gould said. “The royal family will need to sort this out on their own. We can’t help them here, not with troops on the ground, and not with intelligence that we can’t back up with hard facts. This is their fight, not ours.”

  “But if this second nuclear suitcase bomb that NSA has warned us about is there, in Mecca?” the president asked. “What if it goes off? It will create chaos and panic nearly everywhere. What then?”

  “Let us hope that the intelligence is wrong,” Gould said quietly. “Or that it somehow does not succeed. Either way, it is the Saudis’ war—not ours. We can only be prepared for the time that it spills outside the kingdom, in the direction of our troops on the ground elsewhere. That is the message you have to deliver to Congress today.”

  The motorcade made the turn in to the driveway at the western side of the Capitol. Construction workers were already there, working away at the endless efforts to refurbish the Capitol dome building’s aging exterior. The motorcade worked its way in and around the construction and pulled into the underground garage. They made their way toward a private entrance that led up to the chamber where the Senate met.

  The underground parking garage was half full, despite the early morning hour. The word had gotten around in time to the members of Congress. It was obvious that a decent number had been able to make it to the Capitol for the closed session.

  The president didn’t wait for the other cars in the motorcade to park. He left the limousine and made his way up the steps to the Senate chamber. He was anxious to get this session behind him. Gould moved quickly to keep up. He glanced over his shoulder as they entered the stairwell. DJ was holding the press back, while Susan Wright and General Alton hurried to catch up to them.

  When the president entered the hall of the Senate through a side entrance, he was greeted by half of the members of the Gang of Eight leaders. He shook hands briefly, then entered the hall. He did not have a prepared speech with him or a teleprompter. He’d decided to make this more informal. He was going to talk to the members of Congress directly.

  Dr. Gould, Dr. Wright, and General Alton took seats in the front row. The Senate was overflowing. With so many House members there, every seat was taken, and it was standing-room only in the aisles. The president walked over to the podium, opened his notebook, and glanced up at the galleries to make sure that no press had been able to make their way in. The galleries were empty.

  The president waited until the hall had grown quiet. “Thank you for arriving at such an early hour,” he said, his voice unnaturally loud in the now-still Senate chamber. “I know this is unusual, but there is a great deal happening in the world at the present time. I felt it best to speak to you here, in person, so that we could have an honest discussion about the events.”

  Camara gestured at the podium. “As you can all see, I’m not here with a teleprompter. I don’t have a prepared speech. I have some notes, and I wanted to share some information. But I’m not here to try to convince you of the need to act, to declare war, or to end our peace with Iran. I simply wanted to make sure that you all are aware of the gravity of several actions, and to be prepared.

  “I’ve been told that similar sessions are occurring nearly simultaneously. For instance, Judah Navon is addressing a closed session of the Knesset, and the prime minister of Russia is meeting with the Duma leadership. I’m sure there are other similar discussions underway.

  “First, with the attacks on oil fields in Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Iraq, I know that all of us are concerned about the imminent collapse of the world oil markets. Crude oil speculation has tripled prices on spot markets. If events spin out of control in Saudi Arabia today, then OPEC will essentially lose control of the world’s oil economy. We’ll be in free fall.

  “However, I wanted to assure you that Russia, China, and US leadership have discussed contingency plans in the event that this happens. There are other sources of oil beyond the Middle East. Israel has agreed to handle all of that traffic, from the Caspian Sea and elsewhere. In fact, that oil is flowing even now. We’ll be fine.

  “I know you’ve all heard about the attacks at Aqaba as well, and that the Israelis are being blamed. But it is my firm belief that Israel is not responsible for those attacks. It appears that both of those attacks were orchestrated by Iran’s proxies.

  “Nevertheless, we will be hard-pressed to roll back that perception. It will become conventional wisdom to the world community that Israel was behind those attacks. There is not much we can do about that, unfortunately. The real perpetrators—and their motives—will be lost in time.

  “We also know that al Qaeda’s new leader, Ali bin Rahman, has made common cause with Tehran. While this is unusual, it should not be surprising. Half of al Qaeda’s leadership has hidden inside Iran for years. What is unusual, though, is the news that Ali bin Rahman has come out of hiding and is on his way to the emerging Palestinian homeland in southern Israel.

  “There is also surprising news out of London. Depending on events that will shortly play out one way or another in Saudi Arabia, this news may—or may not—become important. The last remaining heir to the caliphate of the Ottoman Empire has been seen in Saudi Arabia. New pan-Arab flags representing the old kingdom of Hejaz have been seen in circulation as well.

  “What makes his appearance problematic is that there are military forces advancing on Mecca from both the north and south. They are, surprisingly, on horseback, and they’re carrying white and black flags, and double-edged swords.

  “These rather unusual military forces are being led by Sa’id Nouradeen, Hezbollah’s leader in southern Lebanon. They are calling him al Yamani, the mythical legend who appears before the coming of the Mahdi, of perhaps the Twelfth Imam. From all accounts, this is being orchestrated to usher in chaos and fulfill certain prophetic requirements before the appearance of this Twelfth Imam.

  “
As for this Twelfth Imam, the president of Iran has begun to tell those around him that this person is quite real and that he has now made his first appearance to tens of thousands of people. He believes this imam is real. So for the time being, we must also take the Iranian president at his word. If he says the Twelfth Imam is real, and that he has returned—and he has made this quite clear to the people—then we are forced to deal with that. We have no choice.

  “Now, before any of you ask me about my opinion of this so-called Twelfth Imam, I will say this. He is a real person. We know that. What we cannot ascertain—at least not yet—is where he came from, his background and training, or even what nationality he calls his own. As soon as we can, we will give you that information.

  “But for the time being, we will likely be forced to recognize this personage—if only because Iran’s leadership recognizes him. And if the likes of al Qaeda’s leadership recognize him as some sort of religious authority for a pan-Arab community, it will even further complicate matters.”

  President Camara paused and glanced at his notes. The Senate chamber remained silent. This was a considerable amount of information to take in.

  “Still, all of that pales in comparison to the additional news that I wanted to give you here today,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “It is this. Our worst fears were realized a short time ago. Some of you in this chamber, in fact, have been predicting for some time that the nuclear genie would escape—that portable nuclear devices would become readily available to terror networks willing to use them to create chaos.

  “This has, in fact, just occurred. Our intelligence networks have confirmed that the king of Saudi Arabia was assassinated within the hour by a nuclear suitcase bomb. Countless members of the royal family and staff were killed in the blast. We don’t know yet who was behind the nuclear terrorist attack, but I believe we can all hazard a good guess.

  “But as if that wasn’t bad enough, we have learned that there is a second nuclear suitcase bomb in circulation. Our intelligence reports are fairly confident on this. And that second suitcase, if the reports are to be believed, may be detonated in Mecca, perhaps at the holiest site in Islam, the Kaaba, as the military forces descend on the city.

  “And if that were to happen—if a nuclear terrorist attack should destroy the Kaaba at a time of surging violence in the Saudi kingdom—it will almost certainly trigger chaos, conflict, and violence across the planet. War, in many places, becomes inevitable. All of us can only hope, and pray, that someone or something intervenes before an event like this occurs.”

  72

  Mecca, Saudi Arabia

  Given what he’d heard from Nash on the ride to Mecca, Prince Abdul decided to ignore the niceties of diplomacy and ceremony. There wasn’t time.

  The day was waning. They’d gotten reports of the Day of Anger protests throughout their flight from Riyadh to Mecca. Most of them had been largely peaceful and uneventful. The protests in Dammam and Qatif, especially, had been mild. Students had shown up, waved their cell phone cameras around for a while, and eventually dispersed.

  They’d gotten two disturbing reports as they neared Mecca—both of which they’d need to confront once they’d landed. The first was that a brush fire had engulfed much of the forestland to the west of Mecca and was making its way down the slope. There had also been strange reports of hordes of horses approaching Mecca from both the north and the south. Both would arrive within the hour, the reports said.

  While he didn’t pay much attention to such things, Abdul knew that the fire and the cavalry charges from the north and south were prophecies that tens of millions had read about in popular novels about the return of the Mahdi. And today they would be witness to such prophecies, no matter how absurd.

  But it was possible that none of this mattered. It might all be for show. The game was here, in Mecca, at the Kaaba. He couldn’t say precisely what Natal was up to, but if he was here in Mecca, it was for a reason.

  Three mobile phones went off. Nash glanced at his. He didn’t recognize the number. But Abdul answered his mobile. As he listened, a look of horror crept onto his face.

  “There was an explosion at the king’s palace,” Abdul said once he’d hung up and regained his composure. “A portable nuclear device. It destroyed three floors. King Faisal was killed immediately.”

  Nash turned white. They’d been there, hours before. He’d only met Faisal—and now the king was dead. Even in the midst of this chaos, Nash couldn’t help but wonder—and marvel—at Natal’s ability to orchestrate these events.

  “I’m sorry,” Nash murmured. “I can only imagine your pain. But this means that…”

  “Natal is king,” Abdul said.

  “And the only other true rival to keep him from remaining king is Prince Muhammad—here, in Mecca,” Nash concluded.

  Abdul leaned forward to get the pilot’s attention. “Land the helicopter in the square,” he told him. “As soon as possible.”

  The pilot turned, horrified. “The square of the Kaaba? Are you certain?”

  “I am certain,” Abdul said. “Land it in one of the corners. The pilgrims will largely have finished by now. There should be room to land safely.”

  The pilot obeyed. The helicopter was built for long-haul missions, but it could also hover and land in tight spaces. He’d have no problem landing it safely in the Kaaba square.

  As they made their approach, Nash was still in shock from the news. He looked out to the west. Much of the eastern slope of the Hejaz mountainside was ablaze. Black smoke billowed skyward.

  “Do you see it—that fire coming toward Mecca from the mountain-side?” Nash asked.

  Abdul nodded. “It fulfills prophecy—just like the cavalry charges.”

  “Prophecy about what?” Nash asked.

  “The return of the Mahdi, or the Twelfth Imam,” Abdul said. “If you believe in such things.”

  Nash said nothing. Too much had happened in the previous twenty-four hours for him to process this news. At this point, he wasn’t sure what, or whom, to believe any longer.

  The helicopter banked hard and swept out over the square. A few people were still walking around the Kaaba, but most had made their pilgrimage and had left the square. The pilot was able to land the craft safely. Nash and Prince Abdul hurried off toward the nearest door at the outer edge of the square.

  “Where is Natal?” Abdul asked a guard, a member of the White Army, as they left the square. “I need to see him immediately.”

  “He is with the governor, within the Kaaba. They are there for the ceremony, the cleaning. But I believe he is about to leave the compound, before the ceremony is finished,” the guard said. “We—we have all heard the news. I believe the new king is about to return to Riyadh. The governor will remain behind and finish the ceremonial day of cleaning.”

  Abdul and Nash exchanged glances. An unspoken thought occurred to both of them at the same moment. They were running out of time.

  “Take us to the Kaaba. Now,” the prince ordered. “We need to see the new king before he leaves for Riyadh.”

  “But sir, the ceremony has already begun. They are inside the Kaaba. I can’t…”

  Abdul turned and walked back into the square. He strode purposefully toward the square black building. Nash followed him. Guards hurried to catch up.

  Nash felt helpless. He had no idea what was happening. But he trusted Abdul’s instincts. By the time they’d crossed the square and arrived at the entrance to the Kaaba, Nash was actually winded. Between the largely sleepless night and then the wild ride from Riyadh to Mecca, he was running on fumes.

  Natal was just coming down the stairs that led into the Kaaba as they’d arrived. The pilgrims still in the square stared in fascination as two members of the royal family confronted each other in front of Islam’s holiest site.

  As he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Natal glanced first at Abdul and then at Nash. He was clearly taken by surprise, both by Abdul’s arrival here, at the
Kaaba, and by Nash’s presence with him. But he recovered quickly.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Why are you here?”

  “I needed to see you,” Abdul said. “So I am here.”

  Natal was agitated. Both Nash and Abdul could see on the new king’s face that he wanted to be anywhere but here at this moment. It was painfully obvious.

  “I know you’ve received word of the horrific incident at the palace,” Natal said, visibly angry. “So I must return to Riyadh. Immediately. There is not a moment to lose.” Natal started to move away from the prince. There was no doubt he wanted to leave this place. Quickly.

  Abdul stepped in front of him, physically preventing Natal from leaving. Nash held his breath. “Natal,” Abdul said quietly, so only the three of them could hear his words, “I know what you’ve done. I know. But we will leave that discussion for another day.

  “For now, I insist that you remain here, with me. We will take part in the day of cleaning, with the governor of Mecca. For today, we will all be one big, happy family. Wherever you go, for at least the foreseeable future, I wish to make sure that both the governor of Mecca and I remain with you.”

  Natal, the new king, and Abdul, who would soon become foreign minister, stood facing each other. Nash could see that Natal wished to flee the Kaaba. Every fiber of his being screamed it to the heavens. The fear emanating from Natal was palpable.

  “I am your king,” Natal said. “I do not answer to you.”

  “True. And right now, I would invite you in the strongest possible terms to enjoy this glorious day of cleaning inside the Kaaba with the governor and myself.”

  Abdul, the younger man, took Natal by the arm and steered him back toward the entrance to the Kaaba. Nash trailed behind, still not quite certain what was happening. But he was determined to keep up.

  In the end, Natal did not resist. For what could he do? Flee? An elderly king, running in abject fear from the Kaaba as pilgrims watched? Hardly.