Tehran Decree Read online

  The decree preamble pointed out that the whole operation was entirely justified, since it drew direct parallels with the American practice of Rendition; whereby so called Muslim dissidents were secretly removed to another country to be interrogated because the chosen country had no laws against torture. Many of the so called dissidents were considered expendable and tortured to death behind locked doors.

  This also had analogous connotations to the German Death Squads (the Einsatzgruppen) who operated in the rear of the German army during the second world war. Then there were the American black opps groups and the huge security firm known as Blackwater, as well as numerous others masqurading as security organisations, supposedly guarding western buildings and diplomats in Iraq. Latest estimates by the Iranian foreign office put the number of armed security contractors working in Iraq at 20 - 30,000 personnel.

  All terrorists groups all over the world aligned with Islam were to be advised of the decree and its implications were to be put into effect immediately. It was to be expected that certain secret Muslin groups in the US might eventually kidnap the president just as soon as a window of opportunity occurred. However, other groups in other countries would also get their chance if the president went abroad. Al Zandi was acutely aware that Islam had already given the US a bloody nose in the 9/11 fiasco.

  Uncle Sam would not tolerate another gross humiliation on the world stage. The Supreme Leader was digging a very big hole which would eventually cave in, burying the Iranian leadership and countless innocent people. One didn’t taunt one’s enemy and give him no where to hide.

  Chapter Five

  Australia

  Recovery was slow for Sharazi but at least he had rid himself of the terrible confinement of Lexton detention Centre. It had cost him dearly, with a permanently scared body and face, and a deformed left hand, but thanks to Allah, he still lived. Mere cosmetic failings were as nothing in the sea of life and greater things would be accomplished -- he was sure of that.

  He soon realised that the past events were more than just a skirmish with fate. In hospital he was a freer man and his injuries conjured up extra perks; sympathy and consideration abounded from nursing staff, and unexpected official visitors. Some of them had actually come from the federal government, desperate to smooth over his ill treatment, and ward off any political embarrassment to the ruling party. Grass roots politics and public sympathy made a wonderful mixture, one feeding off the other. It was a win-win situation boosting the poles, giving the public what they wanted and serving the Islamic cause by helping Sharazi get back on his feet.

  They offered him a compensation package which would partly pay for any further cosmetic surgery. However, as with most government initiatives there was a catch, the money could only be spent on medical fees paid to a listed physician specified by the government. The official documentation had named three specialists carefully chosen by government consultants. He was about to consign the forms to the waste bin, when three blurred figures appeared at the entrance to the ward, and came towards him.

  Sharazi sat up awkwardly and peered through swollen eyes at the three men now standing at his bedside. Two of them were typical white male bureaucrats with lightweight pressed suits and polished patent leather shoes. Well shaven and groomed to the hilt -- he was clearly a special case.

  The third person was very different, he wore a plain robe, headdress and leather sandals, so typical of his Iranian homeland, Sharazi’s curiosity ran wild and he uttered a few phrases in Farsi, the common Iranian language, through bruised lips. This instantly shocked the robed man, and he held up his hand -- then looked at the two white officials.

  ‘Please Habib, speak English if you can, we must confer in the common tongue of this country,’ one of the officials smiled in an effort to put Sharazi at ease.

  ‘We understand your predicament,’ he said, ‘and have allowed a fellow Muslim cleric to confer with you. This would normally be strictly off limits to an illegal immigrant, but there seems to be some confusion in your case. Our interpreter,’ he pointed to the man in the turban, ‘Farid Hassan Kazeni, will ask you a few questions about your past and fill you in on future arrangements. We will leave you to confer for thirty minutes then we will return,’ the two white officials left the hospital ward and walked back to their car.

  The turbaned man peered with small brown eyes for a few thoughtful moments at the battle scared young man -- as if trying to assess his future potential.

  ‘I don’t know if you realise it Habib, but you are an extremely lucky young man. You could easily have died from your wounds, in fact, we had another man who did a similar thing, and died within hours of contacting the razor wire.’

  ‘I see...death of a thousand cutts then,’ Sharazi mumbled offhandedly.

  ‘Exactly...that’s where you were lucky, your injuries were not quite as great and your treatment was very swift and thorough. You owe the Australian authorities your life’ Sharazi grimaced.

  ‘If it wasn’t for the Australian authorities I would be here in the first place...I owe them nothing,’ Kazeni frowned, his high forehead creasing in alarm.

  ‘It might be better if you stopped thinking and obeyed your basic inclinations Habib,’ Sharazi raised a belated smile.

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Humility...eat your humble pie and fall in line with the authorities...that way you will make life a lot easier and you will be able to think more clearly about your future.’

  ‘Which is?’

  “That is what we are about to discuss,’ Kazeni opened a folder he was carrying and produced an official looking printed sheet. His voice dropped slightly and he moved closer to the bed.

  ‘We haven’t got much time, so if you can fill in that government question form while I brief you in on the exact situation here, we’ll be able to make some progress,' Sharazi squinted at the form and frowned at the personal nature of the questions.

  ‘Don’t worry about the questions...just tell them what they want to know, or rather, what you think they want to know. It’s just a formality, a bit of government red tape, the form will be buried in some dusty government archive and hopefully never see the light of day again.

  In the mean time, don’t tread on their toes, it’ll only make things worse later. Now I don’t know if you realise it, but there will be a general election in Australia within the next month. This is why the government has eased up on the extreme treatment of illegals, particularly doubtful cases such as yourself. I know you speak Farsi and you are an Iranian national -- but I don’t know what your political inclinations are. I need to know now... you can trust me...I will swear to Allah if you wish...so please be

  as open and extreme as you like. Whatever you pass on to me will never leave my lips,’ Kazani looked him hard in the face.

  ‘To whome do you owe allegeance Habib?’ Sharazi shuffled painfully beneath the sheets of his bed.

  ‘Arrik Akkabar...Allah is Good...Iran’s glory has always been its culture...whatever form that might take,’ said Sharazi earnestly.

  ‘Give me your hand,’ Kazani pushed a small business card into his palm.

  ‘Secrete that in your bed...when we leave, go to the toilet, memorise the relevant details and phone number, destroy the card, then contact me when you get out of here.’

  Chapter Six

  The tension in Brigadier Arash Al Zandi’s brain was almost unbearable, a conflicting military order was the worst nightmare for any commander to enforce, particularly when it pushed the world into a possible nuclear Armageddon.

  Zandi, in his mid-forties, his jet-black hair combed straight back, had supported the new hard line regime because he thought the Muslim world needed to reassert itself in the face of ever increasing US global dominance.

  But this radical decree had gone beyond all rational expectations -- one could only push the American aggressors so far as past events had shown only too well.

  Al Queda had started this horrific, so called holy war, in the
name of hard line Islam, much to the consternation of the moderate Muslim countries.

  It wasn’t so much the actual attack of 9/11 that worried Al Zandi, but the American reaction to it, which had brought down all hell on Afghanistan and Iraq. This would pale at the side of an all out attack by the US on Iran. So far the Americans had delivered their foreign policy with one hand tied behind their backs, and in some cases two hands. A blatant nuclear confrontation with the worlds greatest nuclear power was shear suicide and would lead to the total destruction of Iran and most of the population.

  In spite of all these recriminations Al Zandi’s choice was very bland and simple: either carryout the given orders, or be summarily executed for refusing to enforce them.

  He reread the main outlines of the decree and marked off the orders he had to carry out, then keyed-in an unlisted number on his secure phone line and slowly reiterated the orders to his subordinates, taking great care to remove all emotion from his voice.

  The higher up you were in the pecking order the more likely your head would be lopped off should an error occur -- the humble soldier in the field was a safer option. A rigid protocol towards ones duty was the only safe line to take in such cases for both soldier and commander. His orders would now enable a direct attack on the US forces should they stray, by design or chance, into Iranian territory; the order included nuclear retaliation.

  Strangely, his actions reminded him of a piece of covert advice given to him by his father who was also a higher ranking officer in his day. The words burned into his brain... ‘learn how to suffer fools in very high places and your head will be saved,’ his father had spoken the words to him during his time at the officer training school, when things became tough and insubordination had crossed Al Zandi’s mind. It had saved him from many awkward impasses with superior officers and politicians alike. But now the words were beginning to ring hollow...perhaps it was time to revolt against such fools in high places and treat them like the fools they really were.

  Cutting the phone off, he instantly realised he had become nothing more than the Supreme Leader’s unwilling executioner -- this would be the last time such an order would be relayed through him. This time the price for saving one’s head was too high. He suddenly felt extremely vulnerable and terribly alone -- Iran was unsafe and unreliable -- no one could be trusted, least of all any of his military cronies. He’d forgotten what real friendship was all about, and camaraderie between fellow officers was non existent, he now believed that ninety percent of the time it paid to be a skeptic rather than a believer. This was extremely dangerous thinking in an Islamic Republic where total obedience in the armed forces to the Supreme Leader was of paramount importance. Continual turmoil between beliefs and political commitment were beginning to take their toll on his sanity.

  Chapter Seven

  Sharazi had to admit Australia was a good place to live, freedom and opportunity were virtually unprecedented compared to life in Iran, but his mission was clear cut. Allah was the dominant force in his life, in fact, he had already reiterated many times that he lived because Allah deemed this to be so. How else could he have been spared the terrors of the Lexton detention camp? Then there was the general election which had finally freed him from captivity by the infidel authorities.

  He now had a furnished flat and was able to earn a modest living by working two part time jobs in the fast food industry. All of these fortuitous things were not merely chance -- there had to be a higher power involved behind the scenes.

  Today would be his full initiation into the Black Islam Brigade BIB, who rigourously taught the Jihad using Osama Bin Ladin’s basic teaching methods taken directly from his Jihad manual.

  Farid Kazeni would be his guide since he was familiar with the manual and knew it page by page. He had been working on the manual over the years, updating, improving, and adding new ideas, all with Osama’s blessing.

  Weapons and their strategic use in opposition to the infidels was his latest chapter. It was written in theory, but it now had to be proved in practice, and Australia offered some of the best practice terrain in the world, as well as an unprecedented degree of security. Thousands of square kilometers of remote unmonitored hinterland existed -- a virtual carte blanche for covert military manoeuvres.

  Kazeny was more than eager to try out some of his revolutionary ideas in the terrorist paradigm, but he needed the sure backing of devoted and well trained fighters. Only when they had thoroughly mastered the principles of the Jihad Manual would they become trusted Mujihadeed warriors.

  It had become apparent that the manual lacked certain subjects that the Muslim world had so far chosen to ignore. Kazeny had realised in recent years that far too much dependence had been placed on Allah and his protective cloak. It was often assumed that Allah would protect any righteous Muslim who prayed religiously and obeyed his teachings; this was a case of blind faith.

  In the Christian religion it was a case of God helping those who helped themselves. Hateful though it may seem, Muslim leaders would have to adopt this stratagem, as well as other seemingly distasteful ideas. This would form part of his next foray into Qsama’s Jihad Manual, hopefully, with the leaders full blessings. It was an area where he would have to tread very cautiously; a degree of totality would have to be surrendered if Islam were to dominate the world. Perhaps the truly committed warriors would be granted certain exemptions in the eyes of Allah.

  Christian authorities could never understand that allegiance with Allah and his fellow Muslims was total. Islam wasn’t just an eastern religion that could be changed or disregarded at will, it was a whole way of life that demanded total compliance, it was instilled into the body and brain, and as such, was inseparable from one’s spiritual and material being. No piece of paper and ad hoc ceremony, so persuasive in the western world, could ever change that unless permitted by Allah.

  The word Allah was the Arabic word for God and Islam meant submission to God. Muslims prayed to Allah five times a day; how many times did Christians pray to their God each day? Sharazi smiled to himself, Christianity would be very lucky to glean a few misguided religious zealots on one day each week. Clearly Islam was on the rise, while Christianity was on the decline.

  There were two main versions of Islam; the good and righteous faith which devoted Muslin's worshiped and the extreme version which the terrorist mobs had hijacked for their own maligned ideologies. Both were acceptable beliefs in defence of Allah as far as Habib Sharazi and Farid Kazeni were concerned, and BIB represented the latter ideology.

  He continued to smile knowingly when he thought of the Islam extremists -- they were like the Christian soldiers of old who came to the Holy Land and murdered Muslin's by the thousands, simply for not believing in Christ, it was they who were the godless infidels. How things had changed -- it was now the Christians turn to die for not believing in Allah -- not that many of them hadn‘t been killed, in fact, thousands had already died at the hands of Muslim extremists, and many more would surely follow.

  After prayers in the Mosque Farid Kazeni shared a simple meal of salad and bread rolls with his new recruit, they dined in the open air at the back of a Victorian Mosque in a quite corner of the garden.

  ‘How do you like the tomatoes Habib...not bad are they...grown in the little green house behind our garage.’ Sharazi smiled politely and nodded his agreement. They were good and they did taste different, fresher than the usual super market variety, and with a tangy tomato flavour about them. Kazeni started to look serious and stared into the distance.

  We’ve had word from abroad, the Supreme Leader has started to make amends, he has finalised another decree,’ Sharazi stopped eating and looked intently at his friend. Decrees which came from abroad were nearly always a little worrying from his point of view, he could understand killing infidels if Islam were under direct attack, but initiating such violence without provocation was something else. Kazeni lowered his voice.

  ‘I’ve no doubt it hasn’t escaped your
notice but the Americans have thousands of troops based in Iraq and are massing more soldiers near the Iraq-Iranian border; they could be setting up for an imminent invasion of Iran.’ Kazeni paused for effect, carefully noting the influence his words were having on his protégé.

  ‘This has already gone too far, and the Supreme Leader has decided that should they move into Iran, the Americans will be annihilated. The US president is behind these moves and is the greatest infidel of them all. He must be punished by whatever means we can muster, and the Supreme Leader has decreed that he be abducted as soon as possible whenever he travels abroad, or in the USA. He is to be taken alive if possible, to be tried in an Islamic court in Iran...that is the gist of the decree.’

  Sharazi blew a stream of hot air through pouted lips.

  ‘That my friend is some decree; I don’t mean to contradict the Supreme Leader, but isn’t this a bit drastic,’ Kazeni silently studied his friends features.

  ‘You know what these decrees are all about...they are a struggle between the Assembly of Experts and the Supreme Leader. The Assembly is there to examine such decrees and will undoubtedly dismiss this one after suitable deliberation...no expert in his right mind is going to let this decree continue.'

  ‘I wish I had your confidence Farid but you knew as well as I do that the Council of Experts has never questioned any of the Supreme Leaders decisions since its existence,' Kazeni relented after a little thought.

  ‘You may be right Habib, the Iranian President has embraced the decree, and he has the political will of the people. No doubt in view of this, all groups have been put on world wide alert -- the US president will be abducted wherever and whenever the opportunity occurs ...unless we receive alternate considerations.’