this time he won, taking territory deep into Red China, carving a respectable half-moon-shaped chunk of territory north of continental India.
Sixteen months ago, Indian engineers had discovered a massive deposit of oil in the central plains of the new territory. Immediately India had approached British petroleum engineering and construction companies to help them build a fast-track giant refinery, a 1,200-kilometer pipeline, and an oil-loading port on India's east coast. Eight months ago India had ordered a twenty-ship fleet of oil supertankers from the Japanese, slated for delivery three months from now. In two months the refinery would be started up. If it came to capacity on the British timeline, it would begin pumping crude oil down the pipeline in three months.
Patel sat back, accepting the glass of wine poured by the serving girl with the silk blouse, the fabric at her arms so full it dragged on the tablecloth.
"What is your proposal?" Patel asked.
Rafael said, "India could be a giant in a few years if the oil is produced. That assumes that India will hold onto the territory, and I understand you have taken steps to assure that Red China won't be back. But it also assumes the Saudis will not pull any tricks. Simple tricks like lowering the price of oil. Or bombing your refinery being constructed at the Shaala oil fields, or the pipeline, or perhaps the oil-loading complex. Or bombing all three of them.
"If the Saudis are held at bay, India will be richer than the Argentineans, richer than the Saudis. You can accomplish your goals for this country. But we
came here not to be cheerleaders for your oil fields or your rise to economic power. We're here to show you a plan that can hasten that rise. India can go to the very top of the food chain, and she can do it by stepping on the faces of the Saudis. What I'm about to show you is strictly confidential, you understand, for your eyes and General Prah-vin's only. I know your servants are beautiful and heavily screened for security, but your lovely friends do not, as they say in the West, have a need to know."
Patel clapped his hands twice, and the room emptied except for him, Prahvin, and the two consultants. "You said something about ruining the Saudis. About cornering the oil market. And about a concept without a customer, until now."
"I'm sorry," Rafael said. "My mind wanders under the influence of this marvelous wine. It's excellent." He took a sip, then looked into Patel's eyes. "This is what we have." Rafael withdrew his computer pad from his coat pocket and set it on the table. As he spoke, a three-dimensional image materialized above the table—a blue, brown, green, and white ball slowly rotating, lit up as if glowing from within. The ball was about half a meter in diameter. Patel stared at it, never before having seen one of the 3D projections, but controlling his face so as not to appear naive. He noticed Prahvin's jaw had dropped, and the second consultant also looked astonished just for a moment before regaining his previous impassivity. Patel looked at the ball, the white color clearing, the blue now revealed to be oceans, the brown and green continents, the
ball's rotation slowly stopping so that the Saudi Arabian peninsula materialized facing toward Patel. The peninsula grew, the rest of the globe disappearing, so that there was a curving map hanging in the space between Rafael and Patel. General Prahvin had stood up behind Patel's shoulder to get a better look.
"The oil produced inside the Saudi Arabian Consolidated Republics is exported by sea primarily through the southern seaways. Fifty percent flows through the Gulf of Aden, twenty-five percent through the Gulf of Oman, twenty percent through the Mediterranean, five percent through the Iranian pipeline.
"Here on the western seaway, the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden, there is a place where the seaway becomes very tight, making the channel a sort of hourglass. We call this a 'choke point.' The constricted choke point is at the corner of Saudi Arabia and Africa, called Bab el-Mandeb. It is eighteen kilometers wide. The supertanker deep channel is only five kilometers wide. Every side is vulnerable as it passes through here. One of our patented undersea systems placed here would be able to target every tanker coming through the gulf, fish in a barrel.
"Now, look at the eastern seaway. The Persian Gulf gives way to the Gulf of Oman through another choke point here at the Strait of Hormuz. The waterway is wider, but the ship channel restricts to about fifteen kilometers. Again, one of our marine systems puts all the traffic on the bottom.
"The Med traffic mostly originates from the terminal at Beirut. The outbound shipping lanes fan out slightly, but another one of our systems about a hundred and fifty clicks off Lebanon takes care of the bulk of the shipping.
"Our plan is very simple. We will sink every oil tanker passing fully loaded through the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman. Once the first few dozen sink, no one else will want to take their ships in to withdraw oil—it'll be a bad-luck undertaking The oil tankers will instead line up at your oil terminal, and soon you will rule the oil market."
Rafael sat back in his seat and took another sip of wine, then looked over at Patel, awaiting a response. PatePs eyes gave away nothing, and no one moved to ask a question, so he continued.
"You're wondering if I'm insane. You're wondering, if every ship exploded in the choke points at the Gulf of Hormuz and Bab el-Mandeb, why wouldn't a foreign navy come by and get rid of what's blowing up the ships? Your mind is turning from the what to the how. Let us not too hastily leave the what. First, agree with me, if you will, Nipun, that if we were somehow able to sink the shipping coming out of the Saudi peninsula, it would prove most advantageous to your country."
"Of course it would."
"And have you any questions about the desirability of putting a blockade around the Saudis?"
"I am assuming, my friend, that you have devised a plan which, in your own mind, is feasible and sinks the ships in these choke points, as you call them. In the near term it might help my cause. But
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you are exactly right. One day after the first ship sinks, the Royal Navy or the Americans are there with patrol boats and gunships, and they destroy whatever you're using on these ships. Lasers or whatever high-tech gizmo you've dreamed up to do this."
"No foreign power will find out what is going on. You see, all the oil tankers will pass through these choke points, but they will not sink until they are far at sea. We've devised a method that can sink any ship we want to sink, in such a way that no one is the wiser. There will be no survivors. And the shipowners and the world's oil customers will be at your feet, begging you to fill them up. It will seem like 1974 all over again, except that instead of a group of Saudi oilmen, the profiteer will be you!" Rafael raised his glass and looked at the men in the room. "To India and the future oil dynasty!" He drained his glass with a flourish.
Patel and Prahvin continued to stare at him, as did the other consultant, the Russian, Novskoyy. The floating map of the Middle East faded, winking out. Patel crossed his hands over his chest.
"You'd better get to the how very quickly, my friend, or this meeting is over. I have never been a fan of science fiction. Or in this case, fantasy."
"My plan is certainly unproven. But here's my proposal. You know my terms and conditions. The easy payment plan. Eighty percent cash up front, twenty percent retention on completion to your satisfaction. We'll need one hundred and fifty million dollars if you order within the next two weeks. My Credit Suisse account number is on my card—it's
the same as the phone number. A hundred and fifty million takes down every ship coming out of the Saudi peninsula for the next six months. I can show you a demonstration that can firm up your belief, but the demonstration will be expensive for me, even though it will be no obligation to you. But if I conduct a demonstration of this system adequate to convince you, the price will go up. Five hundred million dollars after the successful demonstration. Part of that will be to recover the expenses of the demonstration, part because the value of the product has increased, part to line my pockets, and part just to punish you for not believing in me." Rafael smiled and held out his
glass.
"This demonstration. What does it propose to show me and how will it eliminate my doubts?"
Rafael turned his computer back on and looked I up at Patel.
"Pick a newspaper you trust. Any one."
Patel blinked. "London Daily News."
"I would have gone with the New York Times, but that's fine." He turned the computer so Patel could see the display. A few software clicks, and the Internet London Daily News came up.
"And why exactly am I looking at the paper?"
"Look for something related to the U.S. military."
"Is it this one, 'U.S. Navy Plans Love Boat Cruise'?"
"Click on that."
Patel looked at the computer for a few minutes, reading about the plans for the Navy's leadership
to have a stand-down retreat on a cruise ship to the Caribbean.
"This will be your demonstration? You're going to use one of your gadgets on a cruise ship?"
"That's right."
"That's not much of a demonstration. It's a cruise ship. How hard can that be to sink?" Patel was growing annoyed.
"Read on. If it's like the New York Times article it will mention that there are some tight security measures."
Patel read. " 'The Public Affairs Office of the Pentagon issued a statement that security would be ensured by a small flotilla of cruisers, destroyers, and frigates, as well as a submarine, to guarantee the safety of the liner's passage.' "
"That will be our demonstration. The article may not have mentioned that the cruise ship is leaving from Norfolk, one of the most highly guarded and secure naval bases on the U.S. East Coast. And in the demonstration, we won't just knock out the cruise ship, we'll take down the escort vessels as well. Do you have any preference as to whether the escorts sink first or the cruise ship?"
"Cruise ship first," Patel said. "Then, when the escorts are alerted, make them go down one at a time."
Refael nodded seriously. "One at a time. Perfect. When you read about it in the Daily News, you'll owe us the eighty percent down payment on the five hundred million U.S. dollars."
"No. This is how it will be," Patel said, his voice as casual as it was before. He sat back in his chair,
stifling a yawn. "The price won't be five hundred mil. I am being robbed at one fifty. You do the demonstration, we'll pay twenty million, you start your Saudi operation in six weeks, and after the first fifty ships are sunk, we'll pay you a hundred million. The next fifty ships, another hundred million. After that, I doubt there will be any more shipping in the channel, but if there is, two million a ship."
Rafael frowned. "I understand what you're driving at, Mr. Prime Minister. You want results with minimal risk. I would propose the same if I were sitting in your seat. Let me ask you if I can follow the spirit of your request, in a fashion that will allow me to survive financially." As he said this last, Rafael had leaned far forward toward Patel, looking into his eyes, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling earnestly. "We'll take a wire transfer now for twenty million. Once that clears, Mr. Nov-skoyy and I will leave and conduct the demonstration. At the successful completion of the demonstration your people will wire-transfer fifty million. Once the wire transfer is complete, we commence the Saudi operation, on your timetable."
Patel nodded, yawning into his fist. "The terms are acceptable. But I want one more thing. How are you going to do this? Don't answer—I want Mr. Novskoyy to take the question."
Rafael looked at Novskoyy, smiling slightly. Patel noticed the older Russian man cough into his hand.
"Well, Mr. Prime Minister, it will work like this." Novskoyy's voice was deep and commanding, Patel thought. He reminded himself to ask Rafael to pro-
vide the Russian's resume. "We have several new systems that have recently become operational. We'll stage them at the choke points, and they will target the merchant oil tankers."
"Systems," Patel prompted. "Submarines? Divers? An underwater shelter?"
"I've been asked not to go into deep specifics at this point, sir, not without being in an absolutely secure location. Even then, we would need to evaluate anyone who would come in contact with the data as a possible security risk. I'm afraid that even though you are paying our bills—and you know how much we appreciate that, sir—you yourself would have to undergo security screening. And it would not pass our internal protocol, Mr. Prime Minister, because one requirement to be admitted to the database is the need to know. And, sir—"
Patel held up his hand. "No, no, you're right, I don't need to know. I'll leave it like this for now. Perhaps after the demonstration you could show me your technology."
Rafael smiled. "After we sink so much shipping and hold off further commerce to the Saudi peninsula to the extent that you're broke, then I'll personally give you a tour of how we succeeded. Contingent, of course, on your payment of the final invoice."
Patel rose, yawning again. "General Prahvin, wire-transfer twenty million dollars to Mr. Rafael's account. Rafael will give you the account number. Thank you for your time, Rafael, and yours also, Mr. Novskoyy. After the wire transfer is complete,
you are free to stay as long as you like and sample our hospitality."
"Thanks, but no," Rafael said. "We've got work to attend to. The demonstration is in a few short weeks."
"The general will attend you. Forgive me if I leave you to retire. It has been a long day."
Rafael bowed his head, offered his best wishes for Sonja Patel, and followed the general to the offices, Novskoyy following.
the bubbling wine foreign to him, yet as it hit his insides, he felt immediately happier.
"Thank you, Rafael," he said.
"I made a huge mistake in not briefing you in depth," Rafael said after draining his glass. "But, my friend, I made a good hire when I signed you on. You, sir, are a genius. The fact that your plan thirteen years ago failed is amazing—whoever opposed you must have been quite a man. But even though your delivery was off, and the content of your little speech was bogus, you did very well. I couldn't have handled it better myself. Well done."
"So, since you did not brief me before, are you going to brief me now?" Novskoyy asked.
"There's nothing to brief you on."
"What do you mean?"
Rafael poured another glass for himself and topped off Novskoyy's glass. "I mean there's nothing to tell you. There's no system, no submarine, no undersea shelter, no mobile mines. Nothing."
"What? You did that just to fleece the Indian Prime Minister of twenty million dollars?"
"Oh no. Patel's reach is very far. His secret police have assassinated people in Africa, Asia, even downtown London. Stealing from Patel would be suicide. Besides, I want to visit him again when this is all over. His comfort women are the best. There's one I want to steal away from him to work for me. Sort of my personal comfort woman."
"In my country we called that a wife," Novskoyy said, his eyes glazing over, remembering the woman who had come to his room and used her fabulous mouth on him. He forced his mind back to the
present. "So, if we have no system or way of sinking these merchant ships going into the Saudi waterways, what did we just do?"
"We made a sale."
"Of what?"
"Of what we sold, of course. Look, we found out what Patel is willing to pay to sink this American cruise ship with all the U.S. Navy muckety-mucks onboard as well as the shipping out of the Saudi channels. So, now we find a way to deliver. Or, more accurately, you find a way to deliver. That's what you're here for. You're the technical brainpower. I'm just the sales rep."
Novskoyy felt his heart stop. "You mean, we are starting from scratch, and within three weeks we have to come up with a system to penetrate the American defenses around that cruise ship? And sink her escorts? Twenty-one days?" Novskoyy felt his face flush. "And then sink the merchant traffic leaving the Saudi Arabian peninsula?"
"Relax, Al. You're a genius at this stuff. You can do it."
Novskoyy looked
at Rafael through narrowed eyes, putting down his glass.
"Well, Al, you didn't think this was all sales meetings and counting our money, did you?"
"I never knew," Novskoyy said. "Because you never told me. You never tell me anything. If I'm going to be a partner to you, like you said, you'd better start sharing some information with me right now and stop this damn nonsense about what you do and what I do. And drop the superior attitude. If I were still commanding the Northern Fleet, I
would have you shot, you bastard." Novskoyy's accent had grown deep as he became upset.
"You're right, you're right," Rafael said. "I was just doing exactly what you had said out of instinct. That stuff about security. How did I know you were a good security risk?"
"Well, dammit, now you know." Novskoyy stared out the window, completely overwrought.
"At least I got you to curse," Rafael said, smiling slightly. "I was beginning to wonder if you were human. Now I know that too."
"And meanwhile, I have twenty-one days to build some sort of weapon system that can neutralize the Saudi shipping. Do you have any damn idea how long it took to design and build the Kaliningrad? A decade! Ten years of my life, spending every day devoted to it! And now you expect me to come up with an undersea system that will sink a flotilla guarding a cruise ship and the cruise ship itself in less than three weeks?" Novskoyy fumed, breathing heavily. "Turn this plane around. We are going back to Russia."
"What?"
"Take me back to the prison. I quit."
Rafael looked at Novskoyy in shock for just a moment, then seemed to reach a level of understanding. "I don't expect you to do this alone, you know," he said. "Example. Have you been reading up on recent history in the computer newsfiles?"
"Yes," Novskoyy answered belligerently.
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