by Jeff Nesbit
“It is a terrible, terrible thing—this willingness on the part of the Christian church to do nothing so that destruction, corruption, chaos, and evil descend and take root on our planet. It is, in fact, precisely the wrong thing to do, and Jesus will take those to task who abandon His call to serve as the salt of the earth.
“For those in the church who sit, wait, pray, and do nothing in the hope that Jesus will return to earth and save it from destruction, they are like the salt of the earth that has lost its flavor,” Asa said. “It is then worthless and will be cast to the ground.
“We—the Christian church—are called as a people to do everything in our power to preserve, lift up, support, and help the earth. We are the salt of the earth, of the world. We are not supposed to abandon our efforts to preserve and protect. We are commanded to do everything that we can to save it from corruption and destruction.
“If, at some point, even the salt of the earth are not enough to keep the world from destruction, then God will act. But not before then—and not while there are enough of us who are doing everything in our power to keep the principalities and powers from doing their worst to the earth they control.”
Nash was again silent for a long time. He finished the last pieces of his chicken and cleaned his plate. The orange sky was slowly turning dark.
“So I guess it’s safe to assume that your advice to me is to act, to do what I think is right, without fear,” Nash said.
“You are the salt of the earth, my friend,” Asa answered. “God does not want you to lose your flavor—and your ability to help preserve the world from corruption.”
52
TEHRAN, IRAN
General Zhubin was prepared for his meeting this time. He’d brought his air force commander, Hussein Bahadur, with him for his meeting with Amir Shahidi. And, just for good measure, he’d secretly flown in the daring, highly respected Hezbollah leader in southern Lebanon, Sa’id Nouradeen, for the discussion. Nouradeen was important to their plans.
Zhubin had also invited three other representatives to the meeting—a top aide to the president of Syria, a leader from Hamas in Gaza, and the second-in-command from the new Hezbollah group in Venezuela that ran covert operations in the United States.
He had good news. They’d prepared for months for just this moment. While the world listened to Iran’s president, Nassir Ahmadian, spout nonsense for public consumption, Zhubin and Bahadur had quietly gone about their business in Iran’s national interest. Shahidi and the IRGC ran things—not Ahmadian. And anyone who knew anything about Iran understood this.
Yes, Israel’s attack had hurt. It had set Iran’s ambitious nuclear program back by several years, but Zhubin already had plans in place to rebuild it quickly. He was confident they’d be back in business sooner than the world expected.
But Iran’s empire building wasn’t front and center for Zhubin and the IRGC right now. Taking the next strategic steps in its direct confrontation with the United States was, and Zhubin’s careful strategy was about to move to the next level.
Zhubin knew the plan was bold and somewhat risky. But it was also necessary. It was only a matter of time before the U.S. 5th Fleet and the British Royal Navy reopened the Strait of Hormuz. Their siege in Qatar was a public diplomacy message and wouldn’t last. Saudi Arabia and Western forces would quickly rebuild the East-West pipeline. Russia would secure the Baku pipeline.
Oil would flow once again—and soon. So Iran needed to move quickly with its allies and global partners in new directions. They needed to change the equation, and he had just such a plan. It was time, at last, to draw Israel squarely into the very center of the conflict. It was time to force the United States’ hand. Israel was the final chess piece that needed to be manipulated.
For years, the United States had been obsessed with al Qaeda, the shadowy, stateless confederacy of Sunni terrorists who were convinced that only a new Sunni caliphate could counter what they considered a Jewish-Christian alliance led by the United States and Israel.
Long forgotten, deeply buried, and generally not known to the public was the very real terror network that Iran funded on a global basis. But, over the years, the Iran-sponsored terror network had gone corporate. It had much bigger, more ambitious goals. It was designed to take over the hearts and minds of citizens and countries—not blow up single airplanes with crazy shoe bombers.
If the United States had any sense at all, Zhubin believed, it would have long ago recognized Iran’s empire-building aims and its deep commitment to building a real confederation of global Shi’a partners that marched inexorably across countries. Even Iraq, which the United States had gone to great lengths to win, would eventually fall under Iran’s reach, Zhubin believed.
America’s obsession with al Qaeda fit perfectly into Zhubin’s and Shahidi’s plans. While the U.S. focused obsessively on the al Qaeda Sunni caliphate conspiracy in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Yemen, and elsewhere, Iran and its allies marched along with their own business.
But, much more importantly, al Qaeda would serve nicely as a foil in the next step in their confrontation with the United States and Israel. It was time to trigger certain events, and al Qaeda’s leadership would likely claim credit for some of them.
Zhubin was playing to win, not just to cause harm. He wanted U.S. recognition of Iran’s power and influence, and threatening Israel’s existence in a tangible way was now firmly in his sights.
What was simply stunning was the West’s seeming inability to recognize the real threats facing Israel and, by extension, the United States. While U.S.-led military forces ran around the globe chasing al Qaeda, shadows, and mythical caliphate conspiracies, real principalities and powers had taken root and now controlled actual nations that intended Israel’s destruction.
Iran, Syria, Hezbollah-run Lebanon, Venezuela, and a new Hamasrun Arab state waiting in the wings in Gaza were sovereign powers that worked together, with common goals and purposes. Others were learning the nation-building exercise as well. Terrorist and guerilla groups in Latin and South America had learned their lessons of the 1970s and 1980s. Former terrorist and guerrilla leaders were leaving prisons and winning national elections.
Almost as one, nations were being formed and run by groups that formerly employed terrorist and guerrilla tactics for the purpose of intimidating states. Now they controlled some of those very same nations and states. It was as if someone, somewhere, had sent out a directive. Underground leaders had gone to school to learn a very valuable lesson. Terror tactics are no good without control of the state.
What this meant was that principalities and powers in control of a handful of nations could all act as one, with a single goal and a common purpose in mind.
“May God grant you peace,” Rev. Shahidi said once they were all seated around his conference table in his study. He turned to his IRGC leader. “So, General Zhubin, is everything in place?”
Zhubin glanced around the table. He knew the American NSA would have gone apoplectic if it had detected such a group assembling in Shahidi’s office. But Zhubin had been careful. Everyone seated at this table had taken deliberate, secretive routes. There would be no reports of this group assembling here. Zhubin was confident of that.
“Yes, Reverend, all is in place,” Zhubin said.
“You’re confident it will all take place at the same time?” Shahidi asked.
“It will.” Zhubin turned to Nouradeen. “Sa’id, can you tell the Reverend of your plans?”
Nouradeen sat forward in his chair. He kept his back straight, his head high. He’d met with Zhubin many times in Tehran over the years, but this was only his third private audience with Iran’s Supreme Leader. He was deeply honored by this meeting. In all his years toiling in southern Lebanon, he’d hoped one day to have a seat at the table. And now he did. It was recognition of long years of struggle.
“As you know,” Nouradeen began slowly, “you have graciously allowed us to stockpile nearly forty thousand Katyusha rock
ets directly from Iran’s supplies. Those rockets are spread throughout southern Lebanon. Most of them are held in reserve. We continue to reach Israel border towns occasionally with these rockets. Hezbollah recruits, as you know, train at the intelligence academy here in Tehran. With the IRGC’s help, we combine military and intelligence—”
“But none of this has had much of an impact on Israel,” Shahidi interjected.
“No, sir, it has not,” Nouradeen acknowledged, “which is why we have worked with the IRGC to acquire as many Fajr-5s as possible. Cargo jets have regularly flown from Iran to Damascus airport. Our agents and the IRGC have then taken them to the Bekaa Valley. Our training has been intense and successful. We are confident we can move the mobile launchers onto trucks and engage targets in Israel within fifty miles or so. That puts a number of major population centers there within range.”
The Fajr-5 had changed everything for Hezbollah in southern Lebanon. Both China and North Korea had helped Iran design the rocket, which could carry high-explosive payloads. Haifa, Acre, and Nahariya in Israel were all now within range. Hezbollah had spent years filming, studying, and planning for a coordinated attack against Israel’s major population centers. Such an attack would shock Israel, create mass casualties, and cause hundreds of millions of dollars in damage.
“But, now, Reverend, the IRGC has equipped us with the Zelzal-2 missiles,” Nouradeen said. “This gives us the ability to strike Tel Aviv and even Jerusalem, if we wish. We can also deliver a chemical payload. We are ready to strike Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. We have been for two years.”
“Very good,” Shahidi said. “Your trucks and teams are in place? They are ready to deploy?”
“As soon as you direct us, Reverend,” Nouradeen said. “We are ready.” He watched the Supreme Leader closely. But Shahidi’s face was a mask. There would be no discerning his thoughts through mere observation.
In rapid succession, Zhubin went around the table and asked each of the representatives to explain their careful, coordinated plans, how quickly they could deploy, and their probable estimates of success. In each case, deployment could be immediate, and each was confident of success.
Iran had waited patiently for this day to arrive. They’d supplied, trained, and financed proxies in Lebanon, Syria, the West Bank, Gaza, and Venezuela for just such a day. It was the moment at which Iran would seize the upper hand, finally, in the war with Israel that had lasted for a generation.
The Syrian official pledged intelligence and military support, where needed. The Hamas leader was similarly prepared to deploy rockets fully capable of hitting Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. West Bank insurgents would keep the IDF busy in many directions at once.
The last to speak was the Hezbollah representative from Venezuela. His mission was, by far, the most complicated—and the most dangerous. His teams in Washington, New York, and Boston were on the ground, armed with fully capable cesium-137 dirty bombs and ready to move as soon as the word went out to them. All of the teams had entered the country connected in some fashion to Venezuela’s national oil company that sold oil to American consumers in almost every state of the U.S.
Positioning them in the United States—and arming them with a makeshift, dirty nuclear weapon capable of considerable damage in an urban setting—had been relatively easy. But making the decision to turn these teams loose was another matter entirely. It was, in many ways, a direct, sovereign attack against the U.S. on its own soil.
But, the IRGC leadership had argued, there was almost no choice at the moment. The U.S. Navy was engaged directly with Iranian naval forces in the Strait, and they were well within their rights to extend the war to the U.S. territory.
Still, there was one other piece to fall before Iran would authorize the coordinated attack by the Venezuelan, Hamas, and Hezbollah proxies—an attack that would, once and forever, shift the balance of power against Israel permanently in Iran’s favor, the IRGC believed.
Iran needed a diversion—a very large one—that would consume the American leadership and take their eyes away from the direct confrontation in the Middle East. The option would, in effect, stretch conflicts around the globe.
Curiously, the option had rather casually been given to Shahidi in a private conversation recently with Andrei Rowan. The Russian prime minister had mentioned, almost in passing, that he felt the Americans would move away from their confrontation with Iran if a substantially greater threat presented itself.
It was an option, Rowan had suggested, that Iran should take a serious look at. Russia would, of course, disavow any knowledge of it, should anything occur. Still, he’d said, it was a thought.
That option was arriving at Iran’s doorstep, even as this group met in Tehran. Within hours, North Korea’s Kang Nam 5 cargo vessel would begin to approach the American 5th Fleet and the shallow waters of the Strait of Hormuz that Iran still had a tenuous hold over.
If the U.S. Navy boarded the ship, then the U.S. would very quickly be at war with North Korea. The Iran threat would take a back seat to the sudden risk of a real nuclear confrontation. If the Kang Nam entered the Strait, and the Americans attempted to keep it from making port at Bandar Abbas, North Korea would also consider this an act of war.
And if the Kang Nam, for whatever reason, should somehow sink in the murky, treacherous waters of the Strait and never make port at Bandar Abbas, Rowan had mentioned in passing to Shahidi, well, then that would be most unfortunate.
53
ABOARD THE USS JOHN MCCAIN
The McCain destroyer’s captain, Samuel Bingham, wasn’t quite convinced of the decision that had been handed to him by the vice admiral. But, as always, he went by the book. If Truxton told him to shadow the Kang Nam through the Strait and make sure that it made it to port at Bandar Abbas safely, then he saluted and set about making sure he had the means necessary to make it happen.
The Kang Nam had almost dared the American Navy to board it. The North Korean cargo ship passed right by the Abe, within eyesight of the American sailors who’d gathered on deck to watch the drama drift by slowly.
It was an eerie scene—the much smaller North Korean freighter dwarfed in size and power by both the Abe and the McCain. But the Kang Nam just sailed right by, in radio silence, on its way to Bandar Abbas.
Bingham had exchanged a few terse words of instruction with Truxton and Dewey Smith as they’d begun to enter the Strait.
“Take great care,” Truxton had ordered the McCain captain. “Do everything in your power to make sure that the Kang Nam makes it to port safely at Bandar Abbas. Make sure you’ve handed it off in line of sight to the Iranian navy. I will communicate our intentions to Hashem Sanjar.”
Truxton had signed off and immediately sent an electronic message to Sanjar. The commander of Iran’s navy did not respond, other than to acknowledge receipt of the message.
It seemed obvious to Bingham that Truxton was using the radio airwaves, which were obviously monitored by at least a half dozen foreign powers, including Iran, to make the American intentions toward the Kang Nam quite clear. He wanted the world to know that the 5th Fleet intended to allow the Kang Nam to pass by, unimpeded.
Still, both Bingham and Truxton knew the truth. Should something happen to the Kang Nam here, in the open waters, no amount of diplomacy or persuasion was likely to deter North Korea’s unstable, paranoid leadership. By the time everyone sorted out the truth, both North Korea and the U.S. would have taken other actions and pursued other options.
It was one thing to board a ship at port or in calm waters. It was quite another thing to deal with a hostile situation in waters filled with mines, midget subs, and patrol attack boats that doubled as suicide weapons. There, anything could happen.
The minesweeper had done a good job already of clearing the mouth of the Strait. The Kang Nam had relatively clear sailing through the opening to the Strait. It would get trickier, though, as it came closer to Bandar Abbas—within range of several of Iran’s own destroyers.
As the Kang Nam started to approach Bandar Abbas, Bingham suddenly got nervous. He couldn’t pin it down. But something wasn’t quite right. Perhaps it was the manner in which several dozen fishing vessels and patrol boats were arrayed in a relatively small space. Perhaps it was the sight of Iranian destroyers waiting to receive the Kang Nam.
But what really concerned him was that there had been persistent reports from his sonar operators of new movement nearby, on the other side of the McCain, in between it and the 5th Fleet command stationed outside the mouth of the Strait. Something had slipped in behind the McCain, for whatever insane reason.
Meanwhile, the North Korean freighter was being forced to follow a relatively set path toward the port. It was almost as if someone was forcing the Kang Nam to sail a certain way, in a certain direction, through the waters that led to Bandar Abbas.
Bingham phoned Truxton. “Sir, I’m concerned. We won’t be able to track the Kang Nam much further. We’re about to hand it off to the Iranian navy and then hold off on any further progress. We’re at a point where we can’t assure that all of the mines have been swept.”
“Understood,” Truxton said. “I can see from your video transmission that there are quite a few smaller boats in the area.”
“That’s what concerns me. There’s no use for them, except to—”
Truxton grasped the implications almost immediately. “Other than to make sure the Kang Nam follows a preset path. They’re sending the Kang Nam into something. Captain, do your best to warn the Kang Nam,” he said somberly. “Have they ever acknowledged any of your attempts to communicate with them directly?”
“No, sir, they haven’t.”
“Try again. We have no choice,” Truxton said. “I’ll let Washington know what’s happening.”
Seconds later, their worst fears were realized. It happened quickly. Just as the sonar operators reported in that they’d detected the telltale sounds of a torpedo tube opening, Bingham and the others aboard the McCain watched as a single torpedo approached the Kang Nam. To an observer, it almost appeared as if the torpedo had been launched from the bowels of the McCain.
