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“The heart of radical Islam. They don’t have enough real estate to sit back and wait, so short of all-out war, they do what they can to slow the crazy bastards down, like killing those three Iranian scientists last year.”
“My greatest fear as president is losing a city,” Alexander said in heavy voice. “I know they’re out there…these fanatical jihadists. It’s what keeps me up at night. Knowing that they are recruiting…training…planning…looking for any opening to strike. That they would love nothing more than to level an entire city, every man, woman, and child.”
“You got that right, sir.”
Alexander’s face showed his frustration. “There are too many people in my party who think that violence is never the answer. It’s a very enlightened and alluring argument when made in a civil society that has a relatively efficient justice system. Even more so when unchallenged in the lecture halls of academia, but in the real world,” Alexander shook his head, “it’s a bunch of bullshit.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, sir.”
“I didn’t think so. Back to the attribute that we share…it’s called vision. Having a sense of how things will play out when certain things are set in motion. I recognized it in your report. I think you understand the mind-set of the Iranian leadership better than anyone I’ve encountered in my administration.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Alexander grew tentative for a moment and then lowered his voice. “President Hayes told me about your sausage factory analogy.”
Rapp nodded. “The people want to eat it, they just don’t want to see how it’s made.”
“Exactly. Which brings me to the reason why I have asked you to join me.” Alexander took his feet down and leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk. “I am not going to sit here and play by Queensbury rules while the Iranians send their proxies off to wage a war of terror.”
Rapp sat up a little straighter. “I’m listening.”
“Did you know I played football at Alabama?”
“I seem to remember hearing something about that during the campaign.”
“I was a backup quarterback. Got hurt during spring practice my junior year and never fully recovered. I was there for Bryant’s last year and then Perkins. I learned two big lessons. The first, if you plan on running for governor of Georgia someday, you should attend the University of Georgia or Georgia Tech. Not Alabama. I saw a double-digit lead in the polls evaporate the week my alma mater faced off against the Bulldogs. I barely held on to win. Lesson two, blitz.”
“Excuse me?”
“Blitz hard and blitz often, and remember, this is coming from an ex-quarterback. You have to have the athletes and the speed to do it, of course, but there is nothing that can screw an offense up quicker than a defense that knows how to blitz. Do you remember Alabama’s nineteen-ninety-two National Championship team?”
“No.”
“Their offense was average, but their defense may have been the best that college football has ever seen. They put ten guys up on the line almost every play. They came so hard, and so fast, on every snap that opposing offenses were fighting to not lose yards. All they could do was try to react and adjust…find some magic way to slow these guys down. Offenses aren’t good at that. They’re supposed to make defenses react and adjust. Not the other way around.”
“I think I’m with you,” Rapp said.
“I want you to put together a game plan,” Alexander said eagerly. “A list, really. The who’s who of Hezbollah and anyone else that might give us a problem. It stays between the two of us and Irene. We review it, and then it gets shredded. I don’t want any copies. I don’t want any paper trails.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. If we get even the slightest whiff that Iran is going to use Hezbollah to do its dirty work I want ten guys up on the line of scrimmage. And I’m not just talking about targeted air strikes. I want you to be creative. I want you to put them back on their heels. I want you to make them fear for their lives.”
Rapp smiled and slowly nodded. “I would be more than happy to do that, sir.”
14
TEHRAN, IRAN
Ashani followed one of the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards into the meeting chamber and took a seat on one of the long couches. The minister of intelligence found the room depressing. The clerics who considered themselves the guardians of the revolution had gone overboard in their effort to purge the opulence of the shah. The room had been stripped of all paintings and decorative adornments. The walls were white, and the two large windows were covered with a cheap gray fabric that qualified as a curtain only in the sense that it helped block the sun. The carpeting was brown, relatively new, and cheap. The wood-frame couches were embarrassing. Covered in an inexpensive floral pattern, they looked as if they could be found in any remnant store the world over.
Ashani was reminded of a recent state visit by the king of Saudi Arabia. Not a single hotel in the capital met the monarch’s standards, so a team of decorators flew in the week before on a 747 loaded with furniture, art, rugs, and all sorts of amenities to make the king’s stay more bearable. The monarch had come to this exact room for an audience with the Supreme Leader. The entire Saudi delegation was mortified that a leader of a country with the resources of Iran would have such little regard for the trappings of international diplomacy.
Ashani knew it was all part of a great effort by the clerics who ran his country to show their Arab brothers that they were better Muslims. The Saudis and their Sunni sect of Islam may have been the custodians of Mecca and Medina, but the
Shia held true to the prophet. Unlike the Saudis, they heeded the call of Muhammad and rejected a life of possessions and opulence. Ashani, however, knew this to be an act. Many of these same clerics who publicly abhorred modernity, were surrounded by luxuries in their homes. They spent thousands of dollars having their robes and vests custom made for them. There were a few exceptions of course, and one of them had just entered the room.
Ashani looked up and saw Ayatollah Ahmad Najar, the head of the Guardian Council. In many ways he was the second most powerful man in Iran. After he had run the Ministry of Intelligence and Security for nearly a decade, the Supreme Leader had picked him to head the council that was the behind-the-scenes arbiter and advisor to the Supreme Leader. The move had been welcomed by many at first. Najar was a hard-liner, and as minister of intelligence and information he had made life very difficult for the media and anyone who chose to disagree with the Supreme Leader. Ashani had worked for Najar for years and despite his grumpy disposition he liked him for the simple reason that there wasn’t a single hypocritical bone in the man’s body. If you were straightforward and respectful in your dealings with him things went smoothly. If you weren’t, you ran the risk of suffering his monumental temper.
