The Hand of Christ (34 page)

“
You said air defense, General,” it was the Vice President’s turn to ask a question. “That would imply that they are being positioned to defend something on the ground from an air attack, what would that be?”

General Diedrick sighed deeply, “Mr. Vice President, this is what is most disturbing.”

He pressed another button on the remote and a circle with crosshairs appeared on the large LCD screen. Able to move the circle with the remote, the General positioned the crosshairs over the middle of the column and zoomed in on a large number of odd-looking vehicles in the column.

“
General, what are those?” The question was coming from the President as he leaned forward to garnish a better look.

“
Mr. President, those are Russian 16-wheeled MZKT Transporter Erector Launchers. On top of each of them is the Ghadr-110X; they area an experimental version of the Ghadr-110 and each would appear to be nuclear tipped. The Shahabs in the column would be used to defend these missiles.”

The Situation Room was instantly enveloped in loud voices at the revelation that these were nuclear missiles at which they all stared. Voices rose until they were screaming over others, shouting questions at the General.

The Director of Homeland Security bellowed antagonistically at the General, “What in the hell do you mean
nuclear tipped
, I thought the Iranians weren’t nuclear capable? That’s what you’ve been telling us and the press for years!”

The President had enough of the inexorable, child-like rants of his staff, in particular, of those from the DHS; irrational finger pointing and a lack of control would not be the hallmark of his meetings. Jumping to his feet he boomed, “Enough!”

Everyone in the room halted whatever words were about to come out of their mouths and stared with fear at their President. Straightening his tie and the sleeves of his coat, the President calmly commanded those present in the Situation Room to take their seats, and then said, “If I have to pass an executive order requiring you to raise your hands and be called on like third graders, so help me, I will!”

Mrs. Childs stirred slightly in her seat smiling at her President, even feeling a bit aroused by the powerful man.
Enough of that, what would Mr. Childs think?
Subtly she cleared her throat and straightened her posture to a more dignified manner. Her icy gaze returned, but her cheeks bore the telltale signs of being slightly flush.

Turning to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the President asked, “General, I have been briefed during both of my terms that Iran is nowhere near nuclear capable. Please do not offer any conjecture, we are well beyond that point. Iran has openly declared war upon the United States, and now you are telling me, all of us, that Iran has nuclear weapons. Please explain.”

“
Yes, Mr. President,” Returning his focus to the display the General continued, “the Ghadr-110 only has a three-thousand kilometer range, but this experimental version is a true Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile (ICBM) with a range that would bring the Ghadr to the doorstep of every major city in the United States.”

Around the room the faces of powerful men and women looked sheepish and were still working to process what they heard.

With a bit of trepidation, the DHS raised his hand creating a fraction of levity but only slightly breaking the disquietude of the room.

“
Yes, John, what is your question?”

The DHS stood up and questioned the General, “How can you be certain that these weapons are actually nuclear tipped and have the capability of striking the US from Iranian soil?”

The President responded first, “That was precisely my next question, John. General?”

The General looked toward the head of the NRO who, in turn, rose from his seat once more and walked to the front of the room.

Answering for the General, the head of the NRO briefed the room, “Mr. Director, Mr. President, as you know we have been monitoring the nuclear program of Iran for some time. It wasn’t until today, when our analysts first took a look at these images, that we could confirm what we now know. Iran is indeed nuclear.”

The head of the NRO looked a bit unsteady, as if he really wanted to be anywhere but in the Situation Room.

He pointed to the body of one of the Ghadr-110X missiles and noted, “The engine assembly is clearly Russian made; I suspect a derivative of the RD-170 made by Energomash, and modeled after the cold launched Topol-M ICBM. Infrared satellite imagery is able to see and measure the three-stage APCP solid propellant system. The readings show high levels of Ammonium Perchlorate, Hydroxyl-terminated Polybutadiene, and traces of aluminum. This is the propellant system required for inter-continental flight; it is quite obvious that Iran has the technology that gives them the capability of delivering a missile to North America.”

“
And what of these rockets makes you believe that they are nuclear tipped?” The DHS was still on his feet and clearly believed that he still commanded the floor; he had quickly moved away from raising his hand to ask a question.

“
Their configuration is precisely that used for Russian nuclear ICBM’s, and our satellites are also able to measure the level of radioactivity emitted from the warhead.”

The head of the NRO paused for a moment knowing full well that he was about to deliver the worst information that the men and women in Situation Room have ever heard. He zoomed in onto the rounded tip of one of the Ghadr’s, “This image shows that each rocket has six warheads, two of them are counter measures. There are twelve rockets for a total of forty-eight nuclear warheads. Each warhead is a MIRV, a Multiple Independently targetable Reentry Vehicle; Ladies and Gentlemen, these are nuclear weapons and each warhead can be guided to multiple targets in the United States – forty eight targets to be exact.”

“
Good God, how could we not have known of this?” The President’s question was on more minds than just his.

Slowly the Director of the CIA raised his eyes to the room. He truly hated that he had to do this, and had hoped this day would never come. Clearing his throat, he gathered the attention of those in the room and stated quite clearly to the stunned audience, “Mr. President, we did.”

The tension was thick and more than palpable. The mouths of many were now hanging agape at what the Director just said.

Director Fundamen continued, “Mr. President, I suggest we dismiss everyone from this room except for the National Security Council. This information is compartmentalized.”

The President of the United States fumed internally, but was in control externally; he eyed Director Fundamen very carefully. Before saying anything, he took his time to think clearly; after a few long moments, and without removing his eyes from the Director, he spoke, “Do as the Director suggests, all of you.”

Mrs. Childs rose to her feet and efficiently moved everyone into the hall. As she was about to close the door, Ron Willis rushed down the hall and was able to stop her from closing it completely.

“
What’s going on? Why is everyone leaving?”

“
The President asked only for the members of the National Security Council to be present. That would include you, Mr. Willis; so glad that you could finally join us.” Pushing him through, she closed the doors.

“
She must leave, too, Mr. President,” Director Fundamen had made his way to the exit and had re-opened the door holding it open for Mrs. Childs. She stared at the President in protest. The President nodded for her to oblige and begrudgingly she left.

“
Sorry, sir, I was on the road when I heard the news of the briefing, I got here as fast as I could.”

The President looked at Ron and pointed for him to take his seat and then turned his attention to the Director, “Dick, this had better be good, I just asked a large number of very powerful people to leave a briefing that each one feels adamant that they should be attending. Explain.”

Director Fundamen cleared his throat once more, this time with a hint of apprehension. What he would tell the President might very well end his career, “Sir, nearly six years ago, at the beginning of your first term and discussed with the outgoing president, the CIA conducted an operation, in which very few participated. The operation was codenamed
Merlin.
”

“
Dick, this operation, what was its objective?” asked the President.

Ron sat next to his Director unsure how the topic of Operation Merlin had been raised, and just how much of Operation Merlin he would divulge to the men left in the Situation Room.

“
Sir, Operation Merlin was designed to slow down Iran’s production of nuclear weapons. Over three decades ago, after the Shah was deposed, the new Islamic Republic of Iran had commenced to build a nuclear power plant in Bushehr with the help of the Russians. Bushehr is a southwestern city that lies on the Persian Gulf. In 1975 the German firm Kraftwerk-Union AG signed a deal with the Iranians to build two nuclear reactors at Bushehr, but the contract was cancelled after Iran defaulted on overdue payments. They owed the Germans around $450 million at the time. When the Germans ceased the build, one reactor was only 50% complete, and the other 85% complete.”

The Vice President piped in, “These reactors were damaged in the eighties by Iraqi air strikes during the Iran-Iraq war, and they were being built solely for domestic energy production. Are you saying that they were secretly rebuilt under our noses and now produce nuclear weapons?”

“
Not exactly, Mr. Vice President. In 1995 the Iranians signed another deal with Russia to be supplied a Light Water Reactor (LWR) for the damaged plant at Bushehr. LWR’s use uranium 235 for fuel that is enriched to 3%, hardly the level of enrichment needed for weapons grade uranium.”

The Director paused and stood to his feet, he always thought better while moving around. Slowly, he circled the large table as he continued explaining, “The LWR also uses uranium 238 to facilitate the fission process by converting it to plutonium 239. The agreement between Iran and Russia required that the spent fuel rods be sent back to Russia for reprocessing.”

The Director of the NRO suddenly jumped in and informed the remaining men, “Of course, we expressed our vehement concern that Iran would reprocess the rods in order to obtain the plutonium from the enrichment process for bombs. Along with a couple of experts from the CIA’s Directorate of Science and Technology and the NRO, we quietly required that the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) include these men in the inspections at Bushehr. We needed to make certain that Iran was not further processing them for plutonium.”

The President eyed the Director of the NRO curiously and said, “To me, it sounds like you know of Operation Merlin.”

The Director of the NRO responded bluntly, “Yes, Mr. President, I did.”

The President looked at the Director of the NRO and didn’t know quite what to say about this, but decided that he would find those words at another time. He looked back toward Director Fundamen who was now pouring himself a much-needed cup of coffee and ordered, “Dick, continue.”

Before the Director could move forward, the head of the National Security Council asked, “Dick, I have never heard of this operation, why not?”

“
Need to know, Sam,” was the man’s pithy response.

“
What the hell do you mean, ‘need to know’? What kind of crap is that? I am the head of the National Security Council. If anyone should know about an operation linked to Iran’s nuclear weapons capability than it is me.”

Dr. Samuel Montag was a small man that appeared physically incapable of doing anyone much physical harm, but had a reputation as a hot head. He was not afraid to go verbally toe-to-toe with anyone.

“
Correction, that person would be me,” The President’s statement had an undertone of finality, “Dick, I am waiting.”

“
Mr. President, LWR’s typically need to be refueled each year or so; the rods that Iran used in the reactor were to be returned to Russia.”

“‘
Were to be returned,’ are you implying that the CIA had intelligence that they weren’t?”

“
Yes, Mr. President, we did.”

“
Thus was born Operation Merlin?”

“
Yes, Mr. President.”

“
Director Fundamen, what precisely did Operation Merlin accomplish?”

He took his seat and placed onto the table the expensive porcelain cup – full of newly poured steaming, black coffee – which was emblazoned with the seal of the President of the United States on its side. What he was about to tell the President, Vice President, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the head of the National Security Council was the last thing that Director Fundamen wanted to say, but he had no choice, “Operation Merlin gave the Iranian’s the blueprint to build a nuclear weapon.”

The air that circulated under the quiet buzz of the overhead ventilation system felt as if it had been instantaneously sucked from the room. The power that encircled each man vanished. Like young boys having their noses bloodied for the first time, they looked powerless, without direction, and in need of their mothers.

The Vice President looked to his leader silently begging for him to say something. The President slowly removed his rim-less glasses and carefully placed them on the table in front of him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose for some time, longer than necessary. Through his closed eyes, he wondered if he had not correctly heard the words that had escaped from the Director of the CIA’s lips.