48

 

Tehran, Iran

Ali Zhubin had never been a patient man. He hadn’t gotten to his station in life as the head of Iran’s Revolutionary Guards Corps by waiting. But he was being told to wait and be patient by his commander in chief— and it was killing him.

Zhubin understood the grand aims of the Supreme Leader. He and the Reverend Shahidi had talked many times about the bigger play. He got it. He was a loyal soldier to the cause—to the death, if necessary.

Part of being a good soldier—and Zhubin was a very good soldier— was a certain willingness to wait for moments or opportunities during combat.

But the mind-numbing diplomacy of the peace process between the United States and Iran these past several months had long ago driven Zhubin over the edge. The talks had taken place at a bureaucratic level, with little movement. He no longer even asked about the status of the peace talks. As far as Zhubin was concerned, they would eventually break down.

Zhubin trusted the Americans even less than the Israelis. At least the Israelis’ military forces were straightforward in their aims. They saw a threat and moved decisively to neutralize it. They didn’t wait.

Iran had once secretly tried to position medium-range missiles at the Golan Heights. Every single site had been razed to the ground as the construction was underway. Israel hadn’t mentioned it to the world community. The sites were merely turned into rubble. Zhubin admired that sort of action.

But the Americans—that was an entirely different matter. The Iraq conflict was as good an example as any. The war had been about oil. America needed it, and Iraq had it. The US government leaders had signed agreements with every major American oil company within a year of the conclusion of the war there.

So the Iraq war had assured the Americans of another significant source of oil from the Middle East. But the American public had never been told the true aims of that war, and Zhubin was certain they would never fully realize that their leadership was more than willing to wage war over control of the Earth’s natural resources.

And now, Zhubin knew, the Americans raced to exploit the chaos and turmoil that had erupted overnight in three of the largest oil-rich Arab states the world had ever known. Russia wasn’t far behind, and China was waking up to both the threats and opportunities as well.

All roads seemed to be converging on Israel, which had managed to remain silent throughout the Arab Spring and as principalities and powers fought for control in Saudi Arabia and other parts of the world.

Zhubin knew the secret oil pipeline Iran had once built for Israel, in different times, was poised to reopen shortly. Significant amounts of oil would be flowing in both directions, through Israel to Europe and the Far East. And both the Russians and the Americans were investing heavily in Israel’s significant oil shale reserves.

Both of these would place Israel at the epicenter of the world’s desperate need for fossil fuels that drove the world economy. It was all very curious indeed.

But Zhubin had other things much more pressing before him— and he needed to act. The nuclear attack against the Azadegan oil fields had been far more crippling than the rest of the world knew. Iran had been counting on the effort to develop new oil reserves. The American economic sanctions had devastated Iran’s economy over the years, and they were just beginning to emerge from that long shadow. Azadegan had been central to those plans—and they were now in ruins.

The evidence that had been assembled so far had been laid at the doorstep of the Jundallah, which had been a thorn in Zhubin’s side for years. Jundallah had exploded bombs at mosques, killing members of the IRGC.

Materials and chemicals from the bomb site had been traced back to the Jundallah forces. There was no question of that. What was left of the truck that had carried the portable nuclear device had been disassembled and studied extensively. Traces of maps and equipment pointed directly to the Jundallah forces.

The radical Sunni terrorist group was responsible, the IRGC’s intelligence services had decided. The Reverend Shahidi and the clerics were convinced and were preparing reprisals against the Jundallah.

But how had the Jundallah acquired nuclear weapons technology from the North Koreans? The IRGC could only conclude that, with the North Koreans supplying technology to Iran over the years, some had been siphoned off.

But Zhubin was not convinced—and with good reason. Al Qaeda had close ties with the Jundallah. The two had worked together on more than one occasion.

After striking his unholy alliance with the Reverend Shahidi and the Shi’a clerics, al Qaeda’s leader, Ali bin Rahman, had remained behind in Tehran to wait for developments. So Zhubin had sought him out immediately after the nuclear attack at Azadegan. They’d met for coffee one morning at a private café in downtown Tehran.

“Is it true?” Zhubin had asked bin Rahman.

“What?”

“The attack at Azadegan? Every road leads back to the Jundallah. But I am not convinced. It’s all tied up in a neat, little package.”

The al Qaeda leader had smiled. “And nothing is ever that simple, is it?”

“Not in my experience. So is it true? Do you believe the Jundallah are responsible for that attack?”

Zhubin didn’t trust bin Rahman. He didn’t like the notion of a merger, of sorts, between al Qaeda and the Shi’a clerics who ruled Iran.

Zhubin believed in a pan-Islamic world, led by Iran. He realized that alliances were necessary evils during times of war and conflict. And bin Rahman was a necessary evil, a convenient ally at the moment. But he still didn’t trust bin Rahman, or what he offered as a new ally. Yet, even with that, Zhubin knew instinctively that bin Rahman was right. Nothing is ever that simple.

“What I believe is irrelevant,” bin Rahman had said. “What matters—the only thing that is truly important here—is motive. What reason would Jundallah have for bringing utter ruin upon itself by exploding such a device at Azadegan?”

Zhubin had shrugged. “They are a terrorist organization. It’s what they do.”

“Yes, and al Qaeda is a terrorist organization,” bin Rahman had said quietly. “It is what we do as well. And I can assure you, I would never have sanctioned such an attack. It makes no sense. The risk is much greater than the reward. You will utterly destroy Jundallah now, am I right?”

“Yes, we will.”

“The Jundallah leadership knows that. I know them. I’ve worked with them. And I can tell you that they would not take such a course of action.”

“Have they told you that?”

“They don’t need to,” bin Rahman had said. “I know.”

“But who, then?”

“Ask yourself this. Who benefits from Azadegan? You’ll find your answer there.”

“The Israelis,” Zhubin had offered. “They are moving into a position of prominence in the world oil economy, and this is a crippling blow against a sworn enemy.”

Ali bin Rahman had laughed. “Must all roads always lead back to Israel and the Jews? They are a useful foil. But in this particular case, they want to cripple your nuclear ambitions and will take any measure to do so. But attacking Azadegan? No, that’s a peripheral interest for them.”

“The Americans, then.”

“In the middle of the peace process? They have everything to lose and nothing to gain by orchestrating such an attack.”

“But they’ve had economic sanctions against us for years. This is just an extension of those sanctions. And they have nuclear technology.”

“Both true—but irrelevant here. The Azadegan attack was not a sanction. It was a direct attack, or retaliation, against Iran—for a very specific aim and reason.”

“Which is?”

“To remove Iran from the global oil economy. It delays your re-entry for years, does it not?”

“Yes, it does,” Zhubin had mused.

“So who would wish to see that? America? Russia? China? Or someone else? Who is your sworn enemy when it involves oil? Who would that be? And who, at this particular moment in the history of the world, feels most threatened on its own soil, with its economic livelihood at sake? Who benefits if other oil superpowers are likewise crippled, as they are?”

Zhubin had leaned back at this point in the conversation. This particular scenario had never occurred to him. “But they would never initiate such an action. The risks are too great for them. And don’t forget, they have no nuclear ambition whatsoever. A generation has passed, and there has been no indication they’ve ever tried to acquire or build any nuclear weapons.”

“Are you so certain of that?” bin Rahman had asked. “The Saudi kingdom is a place of many layers and many mysteries. It is one thing to say you do not have something. What you actually do is something else entirely.”

“But why? The Saudi royal family has avoided conflict with Iran for years. They’ve bought peace, with you, for a considerable amount of time.”

“Until now,” bin Rahman had said. “All of that changed when we brought the war to the kingdom. The attack at the Aramco complex changed everything—and the Saudis know that.”

“And if they’ve concluded that Iran was complicit in that attack, then they would consider some sort of retaliation,” Zhubin had mused. “They could not take military action, not while the Americans are engaged in a peace process.”

“But they could initiate economic retaliation. I dare say the attack at Azadegan is about as direct an attack on Iran’s economic lifeblood as anything I could conceive. And I would ask again, if Iran is not an oil power again for years, then who does that benefit?”

“The Saudis,” Zhubin said. “They derive their power from oil.”

“And you threatened that at Aramco.”

“Which was an attack I would not have sanctioned, had I known about it.” Zhubin had scowled.

“Nevertheless, it happened,” bin Rahman had said calmly. “It is now done, and the Saudis are going to react predictably.”

“So you believe the Saudis are behind Azadegan?”

“It would make the most sense, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps. But if there is any proof of that, then you know what that means, don’t you? We will have no choice at that point.”

“You will wage war in the kingdom,” bin Rahman had answered soberly. “And the Western powers may simply sit back and enjoy the theater.”