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Authors: Barrett Tillman

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BOOK: Warriors by Barrett Tillman
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       And, the Israeli discovered, his American colleague didn't have much patience today. After exactly thirty minutes of polite conversation Wilson maneuvered Ran into the kitchen, away from their wives and Ran's young children.

       "Avrim, I needed this time alone so we can discuss the Middle East situation without interruption. It's going on three years since the occupation of Jordan"-Wilson was careful to phrase the accusation as passively as possible--"and there's no settlement in sight. The president is terribly concerned, and he'd have asked me to talk to Ambassador Palnet, but Shlomo of course is unavailable." Ran nodded, recalling that Tel Aviv's ambassador to the United States remained hospitalized in Israel, recovering from a coronary. "You're the senior Israeli diplomat in this country right now," Wilson continued. "I want to ask you to communicate this administration's deep concern-privately, of course."

       Ran blinked in surprise. This was old business to him. "Of course, Thurmon. You may rely on it. But surely you know that little has changed. Our forces remain firmly in control, and the civil unrest has subsided tremendously." He stopped to gather his thoughts. He did not want to promise what he could not deliver. "And our third-party negotiations through U. N. relief agencies and the Saudis seem to be making headway."

       "That's just the point," Wilson insisted. "Israel isn't dealing directly with those who matter--the Jordanians. Their government in exile on Crete has been reduced to almost observer status in the back-channel discussions."

       Ran made no comment, so Wilson pressed the advantage. "As for the Saudis, I don't think we can rely on their good offices indefinitely. They could get dragged into a war with their neighbors or succumb to internal radicals. Just look at that air combat with the Yemenis a year ago. And it's no secret that Syria and Iraq are planning something--maybe in concert with Iran. Avrim, we know as well as you do about the military buildups on Jordan's borders. This whole issue has helped unite what previously was a pretty fragmented Arab world."

       Staring into space through the kitchen window, Avrim Ran thought of what another war would mean to his younger brother David, now leading a squadron of his own.
Maybe he'd welcome it.

      
Ran started out the door to collect his family. "I'll pass along your concerns, immediately. Oh, and Thurmon. ."

       "Yes?"

       "Thanks for the hot dogs."

 

Riyadh, 3 August

 

       The air-conditioned conference room was starkly pleasant in contrast to the broiling heat outside. The royal family already had moved to Jidda, the summer capital, but a series of military conferences in Riyadh were necessary.

       Tiger Force was slated for the second day, as part of an overall air force briefing. Accelerating events had pressed a carefully drafted contingency plan into effect throughout the Saudi military, and the F-20 squadrons figured prominently. Bennett sat across the polished table from Safad Fatah, noting the immaculate tiled floor and ornate high ceiling with marble columns along the walls. He was still somewhat surprised that he had been invited to attend the full session, but perhaps Fatah had something to do with that. The entire region was gearing up for war, and Bennett thought it unusual that a foreigner would be allowed to attend all the briefings. However, over three years of close affiliation with King Rahman and his ministers had earned him a trusted place.

       As General Mustafa Halabi completed his presentation, Bennett looked again at the large-scale map on the wall. Scattered in an arc through northern and eastern Arabia were new airstrips either nearing completion or well under construction. They fit into a plan which Tiger Force IPs had helped formulate months before, and now Bennett would explain the integrated plan in which they were featured.

       Bennett was careful to acknowledge the tacit trust inherent in his very presence. He knew it was unusual. "Your Majesty, gentlemen, I consider it a rare honor to attend your conference. The confidence expressed in me, and by extension in all our instructors, is deeply appreciated, and I hope we continue to earn your trust."

       Bennett went on. "As most of you know, Tiger Force has reached its status of eight fully operational squadrons. Counting the Saudi pilots turned back into the training program, we could form another F-20 squadron with just a few transfers from remaining F-5E units." The Tiger II had been partially phased out of the Royal Saudi Air Force over the past year, but the little fighter's ease of maintenance endeared itself to the defense hierarchy. With acquisition of F-15s and more recent large purchases of Tornado fighter-bombers from Britain, the Saudis' maintenance situation had increased in difficulty, but F-5 mechanics easily switched to F-20s.

       Bennett pulled a standard rescue mirror from his pocket and tilted it back and forth. "Most of you are familiar with these signal mirrors. The light from one of these can be seen for forty miles or more on a sunny day." The mirror had a hole in the reflective paint on the reverse side, allowing the user to align the mirror on the ship or aircraft searching for him. This put the light beam on target. Then, with a simple motion of the hand, the mirror was flashed to attract attention.

       "The early warning system we've devised is an adaptation of one that General Chennault used in China during World War II. Clear air and unlimited visibility in the desert will allow us to use mirrors like this as a foolproof communications system. It cannot be jammed or deceived by any electronic means, and if the user is assigned a Morse Code authenticator, the signal cannot be duplicated by an opponent unless he knows that day's signal. Since a full-scale conflict in this region undoubtedly would involve electronic counter-measures by one or both sides, this means of air-raid warning could be crucial."

       Bennett took a sip of water. "We intend to establish a net of between four hundred and five hundred fifty watch posts in three tiers from north to south across the upper portion of the country. It is preferable to use Saudi army personnel in two-man teams for at least part of 'this network, since they already can handle radio equipment and could be readily trained to identify aircraft and handle basic mirror signals. However, I'm told that certain segments of the Bedouin population can also be trained in this role.

       "This system, if required in the face of radio jamming, could provide about twenty-five minutes warning of the approach of hostile or unidentified aircraft. With the F-20's rapid response time, that is more than enough to scramble, detect, and intercept an incoming raid. Since our signal outposts include positions on the Sinai front, it would be nearly impossible for . . . intruding aircraft to outflank our system in daylight." He had almost said
Israeli aircraft,
though Arabia had to be cautious of some Muslim neighbors as well 

       Turning to the map, Bennett said, “Now, as you have already heard, a series of outlying fighter strips is well under construction. Each will have underground provisions for fuel, weapons, and some maintenance facilities. At least three will have sheltered bunkers for command-control use and a few protected hangars."

       He added a few explanatory notes, then asked for comments or questions.

       The king immediately spoke up. "Colonel Bennett, I believe this plan contains a fine balance between simplicity and sophistication. But tell me, what provision is there for long-range engagement of enemy aircraft with your squadrons?"

       Bennett noted the visible effect of the king's choice of words.

      
Your squadrons.
He did not know whether to be pleased or concerned with the implications, but the regular air force officers seemed content to let him alone.

       "Your Majesty, we are reconfiguring many of our two-seat Tigersharks with the radar and Sparrow missile system. Each aircraft can carry two AIM-7s on detachable underwing pylons. After discussing the matter with some of the officers present, we have tentatively decided to add two or three such planes to the existing squadrons. We therefore hope to provide a full range of intercept possibilities, day and night." Bennett considered whether or not he should hammer the old nail again, and decided to hit it once more. "The history of aerial combat in nearly every theater of action in nearly every war is consistent, sir. About seventy percent of all shoot-downs are made in clear-air conditions against alerted opponents. We see the radar missile not so much as a killer, but as a means of gaining an initial advantage. By forcing the opposition to evade the standoff weapons, we gain time for favorable maneuvering to pursue the combat with heat-seeking missiles. And, if necessary, with guns."

       The king rubbed his chin. "That is well, Colonel Bennett. So much for our northern flank. Have you anything- to add about possible concerns from the south and east?"

       "Well, sir, I might refer you to our friends in South Yemen. Some of them are qualified to comment on the capabilities of Tiger Force. "

       This brought a ripple of laughter around the table, even some polite applause. The monarch allowed himself a tight smile and tapped his palm on the tabletop for emphasis. Bennett beamed with pride, but quickly returned to the matter at hand.

       "As for concern about Iranian action from across the Persian Gulf, that has been a factor in our planning from the start. You will recall that we established our primary base at Bahrain with just that possibility in mind. And I'm glad to say that there has been no additional problem from either quarter."

       Safad Fatah spoke for the first time during the day-long session.

       "Your Majesty, if I may interject." He had the full attention of everyone at the table. "The Iranian question is well to be considered. There has been much diplomatic activity in recent months, all at the highest levels. The government in Tehran has been feeling us out, apparently as part of an overall plan to bring the Muslim nations together under a unified banner." He paused to let that point sink in. "We know that communication between Syria and Iran has been especially active along these lines, and it would be folly to ignore the portent of such action."

       Bennett glanced around, noting the sober faces.
So we're still at square one,
he thought.
Nothing's changed. The Saudis still are walking a tightrope between their Western economic partners and their radical Arab neighbors.

      
The king stared at the polished tabletop for a few heartbeats.

       Then he said, "Thank you all for your efforts. This meeting is adjourned. "

       Bennett passed a word with his friend General Maila, who finally had found time to check out in the new F-20C. They talked shop for a few moments before Bennett walked outside. He met the first two Tiger Force squadron commanders, Majors Handrah and Jauf, near the message center. All three men were to return to Bahrain that afternoon. Bennett intended to use the next few hours to see Claudia for lunch; they had much to discuss.

       As the limousine pulled away from the curb, Bennett glanced across the street. "Driver, could you please pull into that space up ahead?" The Saudi corporal immediately came to a stop. "Excuse me just one moment please, gentlemen," Bennett said to Handrah and Jauf, "I need a word with the air attache."

       Bennett had glimpsed Colonel Glen Mallon, the Air Force delegate to the U.S. Embassy. One of the maintenance supervisors had asked Bennett to pass along a report to the attache's office, and this unexpected opportunity would save time later on. Time for Claudia.

       Climbing from the rear seat with his briefcase, Bennett sprinted through traffic, barely dodging a kamikaze taxi, and hailed Mallon. The colonel stopped when he heard someone call his name and turned from his companion, another Air Force officer. Mallon turned toward Bennett, recognized him, and raised a hand in greeting.

       Not quite to the opposite curb from the limousine, perhaps twenty-five yards diagonally up the street, Bennett felt the concussion a split second before the sound engulfed him from behind. He staggered forward, pushed by the force of the explosion, and fell. He caught himself with one hand on the curb, badly scraping the palm.

       Bennett's survival instincts took over. He flopped face-down on the sidewalk, covering his head with his hands. For an instant he was back at DaNang that night in I968, sweating out a weather divert from Yankee Station while the North Vietnamese launched a rocket attack. The sound, the smoke, and flames, even the debris raining down upon him, all seemed the same. Risking a look, he raised his head and peeked over his shoulder. The limo was aflame, its ruptured gas tank feeding the blaze while thick black smoke boiled up.

       Mallon had ducked at the sound of the explosion. Then, quickly recovering his poise, he saw Bennett on the curb a few yards away. He sprinted to Bennett's side. "John! Hey, John. Are you all right?"

       Bennett was too stunned to respond. Both men looked back across the street. Thirty yards away lay the burning wreckage not only of the limousine but of two other parked vehicles. Several passersby had been knocked down, and Bennett knew at a glance that some of them were dead.

 

Tel Aviv, 6 August

 

      
Colonel Chaim Geller relaxed in his chair, an archaeology book propped open on his knees. Frequently he spent his lunch "hour" this way, though he seldom had sixty minutes to eat anymore. There was so much for Israeli intelligence to keep track of in the region that everyone worked overtime at least three days out of six.

       Geller thought of the report from Riyadh and pondered its meaning .. He also thought of young Levi Bar-El, now assigned to field intelligence with a parachute regiment. The eager youngster had declined the option to return to his previous position. Bar-El couldn't stand being a deskbound warrior anymore. Well, the boy's ability with Arabic and his call-up to active duty pointed in that direction. The section chief wondered whether Bar-El would ever hear of the latest event concerning the enigmatic Mr. Bennett.

BOOK: Warriors by Barrett Tillman
11.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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