Chapter 12: How I learned to stop worrying about the Qom

While I waited for the Americans to get back to me, I had Kamal work on arranging a diplomatic meeting with the Ayatollah. The Iranians acted pricey for over a week. Sometimes not taking our calls, sometimes taking us on an office merry-go-round, sometimes snubbing our request for a meeting. It was really petty stuff. In the meantime global condemnation of the hostage taking was gaining traction.

Mid November, the Americans let me know that Iraq's trade with Iran would be overlooked in the case of economic sanctions should I successful retrieve their citizens from Iran. This was win-win for me. Even now I was seen as trying to help by the Americans and by attempting to engage with the Iranians diplomatically it would at least soothe the minds of the most hawkish of the Ayatollahs advisors who might have been fear mongering about my plans for attacking Iran.

Towards the end of November, Kamal finally got the go ahead for a diplomatic meeting between myself and the Ayatollah but with the caveat that it would take place in Tehran. I still dont know how Kamal managed it. Going from low level snubs to arranging a meeting with Iran's leader himself was a masterstroke. I resolved to give him a big bonus on Christmas.

(Break)

I had always wanted to visit Iran in my previous life. Mysterious Persia. The land is chock full of history. Once upon a time the Persian Empire was the foremost civilization in the old world. It's a strange geography too. Very mountainous and yet arid. It can be searing hot during the day and freezing cold at night. Tehran for example isnt the desert capital of Western imagination but a place which often sees bitterly cold snowy winters.

The signs of the Islamic Republic were superficial but ever present as my convoy made it's way from the airport to the Ayatollahs residence in Qom. The streets had been cleared of people. I wasnt sure if it was for my benefit or theirs. Large hoardings carried Khomenei's grim visage and proclaimed the Islamic Republic. Ooooh, so scary. Not. I am Saddam.

Qom is close to Tehran but to the south. The roads south were of decent quality, not very well maintained but well built in the first place. I fully intended Iraq to have the best roads in the region in short order. My convoy soon has cars with black tinted windows following along. I suspected these were part of the Revolutionary Guard. Did I feel threatened? I'll admit I did a little bit. It would not be the first time a world leader had been assassinated on a foreign visit. Except that I dont think my death would attract as much outrage as Archduke Franz Ferdinands. Yet my danger sense hadn't increased more than normal so maybe that was a good sign.

Qom is a flat desert city. A centre of Shia religious fervour. I had no doubt that my visit would be portrayed as some sort of power coup of the Shias over a Sunni belligerent. Whatever. I was there for my objectives.

I eventually found myself seated in front of the Ayatollah on a low mattress. He had a few of his advisors with him and I had Kamal with me. I had left Ahmed behind in Baghdad to hold the fort for me.

The Ayatollah was really old. In my timeline he would only live to the end of the eighties and would be plagued by health issues throughout. He was clearly in some discomfort already but was trying not to show it. Khomenei had a notoriously grim look on his face and I was faced with the full blast of it.

"Greetings Mualim," i said politely calling him teacher in Arabic. It certainly wasnt excepted of me to treat him like a religious leader as he was from a sect considered heretical by Sunnis. But I could respect his PhD like focus on Islamic learning, misguided as I thought it was. For a moment I saw his face lighten as he caught the unexpected respect.

He didnt say anything as we were plied with coffee, tea and sohon, a brittle toffee made in Qom. I munched away happily at the sohon enjoying it very much.

"So," the Ayatollah said in gruff accented Arabic after the food and drink had been cleared away, "why have you sought to meet me?"

The provocation was clear. And I really bristled at the arrogant tone of the man. It wasnt the brash arrogance of youth but the arrogance of a man who believes he has a special purpose and nothing will shake that belief. In other words the worst arrogance.

I shrugged, mainly to irritate him. "Despite my wishes, it became clear that my neighbour had a permanent regime change. The rules of Siasat demanded that I come to try and establish diplomatic relations."

He nodded, "At least you've left the double speak for the great Satan."

I felt Kamal shift uncomfortably to my right at the Ayatollahs brusque words. One of the Ayatollahs advisors looked troubled as well.

I didnt say anything. In my previous life I had learned that not every bully resorts to bluster some use silence as a tool. Well, two could play at that game.

The silence prolonged as the Ayatollah glared at me and I stared back placidly. Our advisors looked increasingly troubled.

Finally it was the Ayatollah who broke the impasse. "And why should we want to establish relations with one such as you?" Despite his haughtiness I was jubilant at having won the war of quiet.

I splayed my hands, "Do civilised nations not seek friendly relations with their neighbours?"

"The only friends a good muslim can have is other good muslims. Tell me are you a good Muslim?"

"What does it mean to be a good Muslim?" came my instant reply.

"Submitting to Allah," replied the Ayatollah with assuredness.

I paused before retorting, "Would a man who submits to Allah but does not live a life of moderation, is not peaceful, is not committed to his family, who hurts others be more worthy of being your friend or a non believer who does all those things?"

"Do you talk such semantics with your Amreeki friends as well? It is nonsense hypotheticals. There is no such unbeliever."

I quirked an eyebrow at that? "Really how are you so sure? On what evidence are you saying that? The people of the West you hate so much lead much better lives than both our peoples. They have less poverty, they are more peaceful, they don't starve. They live fearlessly."

He scoffed and spoke even more harshly, "Have you come here to proselytize about the West? If so, we should end this meeting. It was a wasted trip."

I sighed in my mind. The man was as intransigent as I had expected. I truly detested people who become rigid in their blind beliefs and ignore all evidence to the contrary. I would make Iraq a bastion of critical thinking and empiricism.

I sipped a new cup of tea as I let the silence build again.

"I came here so that there is no misunderstanding between us. You do not have to like me or agree with me. But my aim is to make the lives of my people, all my people better. I dont want hostilities with my neighbours."

He scoffed, "Of course you dont. Your country is rife with internal dissension. Can you rely on your mercenary army against the might of true mujahids?"

"Well I've heard that you have internal dissension of your own dear Mualim. I've heard that your...Revolutionary Guard fights against the Kurds even as we speak."

He pursed his lips. Once a teacher always a teacher. They dont like backtalk.

"Why should you be in a hurry to be aggressive to me? It would make more sense for you to wait until you've consolidated your power and then make an attempt at me. That's all I'm suggesting. That we formally agree to a non aggression treaty for a decade. Then if you wish to try your hand at unseating me...well that would be fair."

Kamal audibly gasped next to me and Khomenis advisors looked shocked as well. But the Imam held up a hand to quiet. I noticed that there was a rosary of beads entangled in his fingers.

"You think that we are dissolute and scheming like you? If it is Allahs will then we will defeat a hundred enemies at the same time!"

Was this guy for real. Even his advisors looked a bit put out. I was offering their nascent Islamic Reppublic a lifelines amidst a whirlwind of shit. Both his advisors hurriedly whispered into his ears. He held up a hand again and silenced them.

"My advisors suggest that I listen to this talk of a pact. But I ask you, how does one trust a man such as you?"

"My dear Mualim, I could pose the same question to you. After all it is your...Islamic Republic that has captured 40 civilians working in a diplomatic capacity against all norms of decency and international convention."

"They are nothing but spies for the Great Satan!" he roared before falling into a fit of coughing. I quickly rose and brought a cup of water to him even as his advisors were trying to help him. He accepted the cup with a gruff nod.

"They were spies," he rasped again.

I said nothing immediately but waited for his hacking cough to die down.

"You know the Americans will impose economic sanctions against Iran," I said.

He scoffed, "Let them. That's all these dissolute unbelievers can do. We live in a realm of Allah. Let them try and do Iblis' work. We have Allah behind us."

This guy...

"With respect Mualim, spiritual power cant substitute for good old fashioned food."

"No true Muslim would crib about such a small hardship," he insisted resolutely. From the faces of his advisors it was clear that they didnt agree.

"We are neighbours. In light of that I would be willing to supply food and buy oil in the event of sanctions."

"Oh, out of the goodness of your heart is it?" he asked sarcastically.

I shook my head, "Not at all. I want something small in return."

He waited for me to speak my demands.

"Let the American hostages return to Bagghdad with me today."

He laughed scornfully, " You want to show your new American friends what a good little boy you are?"

I shrugged again. His blatant disrespect was really starting to piss me off. But I tried to remember that i had objectives. Everything else was noise.

His advisors had piled in again. Whispering furiously into his ears. I almost grinned. I had them now. Surviving the sanctions was a much better offer than 40 civilians. Plus this gave them a somewhat graceful exit from an embarassing faux pas. They could spin it like a gift in light of setting up diplomatic relations with a neighbour.

The Imam held up his hand again and then closed his eyes and started counting the rosary beads. After a wait that felt like an hour he opened his eyes and glared at me anew.

"There will be no deal with unbelievers and their lackeys. And now it is time for you to leave. You have reached the limit of our hospitality."

What. The. Fuck.

(Break)

Back in Baghdad I called up Dickman, "Ambassador. You can double the stationed troops and introduce one armored battalion at forward base Basra. If Iran takes an aggressive action towards the hostages, I will permit further enhancements."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," came Dickmans grim reply.

This event made my determination to incapacitate religion from daily life even stronger. I would unleash the most potent weapon of all upon religion. Unyielding and unrelenting - Bureaucracy and paperwork.