by B K Thomas
“But of course.” Mashal calmly agrees and joins him as he walks into the bunker.
Just past the doorway, another set of guards are manning an office that leads into the main tunnel. The guards look up as the soldier walking with Mashal escorts him inside. The soldier waves to the guards and holds up the transfer order. He calls out to them alerting them to the urgent order to begin moving the materials. Upon his signal, they both exit the office to investigate the situation. The three guards talk among each other and are looking down at the order when Mashal slowly pulls his hand up to the pistol holster hanging off his belt. The latch is already unhooked to facilitate a quick withdrawal. Mashal pulls the Makarov from the holster and dispatches the guard farthest from him first. The other one from the office is next. The look of surprise and shock of Mashal’s escort amuses Mashal as he eliminates the soldier. Mashal quickly makes his way to the office and opens the inner doors as the first truck comes down the ramp. The operation is moving along efficiently, but he has to keep everything going as fast as possible. The window to pull this off is closing already even though the men around him can’t see it. The timetable is critical, and he has to get the trucks full and on the road before things outside calm down.
They drive the trucks down into the vast underground bunker. The view is crowded with rows of barrels and boxes. The bunker is soccer fields long. Pale lights flicker and make Mashal think of the ancient tombs he has seen in movies. This is not his tomb though. He smiles at the orderly scene in front of him. He can imagine this neatly arranged bunker is grouped by the classification of the material. He just needs to decode the rows and find what he is looking for. Mashal turns his attention to the General.
“General, we do not have much time. You need to find the material, so we can begin to load it.” He orders.
The General nods and surveys the bunker. It is a huge room and it will take too long to inventory it. It will have been helpful to keep one of the guards alive. “When we brought the material originally. We placed the most hazardous material in the back in case of any breach of the bunker there would be plenty of room to maneuver to inventory the damage so let’s start in the back.” The General knows the odds aren’t in his favor, but he is banking on the Syrian government sticking with the original placement design. He knows they aren’t likely to deviate from any recommendations since they aren’t the experts.
They hop in a truck and drive down the large floor to the end of a row near the back. The General hops out of the truck and begins to look at the barrels. He doesn’t recognize any of them. He begins walking down the back row and checks the barrels. The men in the truck just stand by the truck and wait for him to do something.
The General stops and takes charge of the men. “Each of you take a row. Look for an Iraqi flag or the numbers 235 or even a radioactive warning. If you see any of them, yell out and I’ll come over to verify if you have one or not.” They fan out each man taking a row and look twenty barrels deep on each row frantically working to find the right barrel. Everything hinges on him finding the right ones. The General knows the longer they stay in the bunker the more danger his family is in. The longer they are in the bunker the more danger he is in. He keeps looking but doesn’t see them anywhere.
“I have a number 235” a man sixteen rows down yells.
The General races over to him and smiles. He calls for a tool to open the barrel. His heart wavers as he sees the contents. Mashal runs up and looks over his shoulder.
“Good work General. This is better than we expected.” Mashal congratulates him. “Open each one to make sure we have the right materials.” Mashal orders and heads back to the entrance of the bunker.
The General opens each one as they are identified then he calls to the men waiting on him. “Yes, these are the ones we want. Let’s get them on the truck!’ He waves the men in his direction. He begins opening each barrel to verify which ones are correct. The room holds other barrels, but he doesn’t know them by sight and doesn’t want any mix-ups. The barrels stand upright making them easier to move but the weight makes the movement precarious. The men have engineered a makeshift ramp to assist in handling the awkward barrels. They knew the weight would be an issue, so they came up with a rudimentary system to get the barrels on the truck. They quickly slide the ramp down the back of the truck and put a barrel on a dolly then wheel it over to the truck. The ramp is too steep. The barrel is too heavy to pull it up the ramp on the dolly. One of the men improvises quickly and wraps a wide strap around the middle of the barrel a few times then drops the strap to the bottom of the barrel and runs it across then back up the opposite side and wraps it around again. With the barrel secured by the straps, the men pull the barrel up the ramp and manhandle it into the bed of the truck and start over with the next barrel. It is taking longer than expected but they are getting the barrels loaded fast enough for Mashal.
Mashal walks to the back wall of the bunker and motions to the General to come. The General walks over as the men continue the work of loading and securing the barrels. “General, I had great hopes for you in this mission. You have won your family’s freedom with your work.”
The General turns to face Mashal who holds the Makarov in his hand.
“You will free my family then?” The General asks looking Mashal in the eyes.
“Yes, General they will be freed when I leave this bunker. I had hopes that you would see the light during our time together but we both know this is what must happen.” Mashal states plainly.
The General lets out a sigh of relief and cracks a smile. “Yes, it is not a surprise, but I had hoped we might avoid it.”
Mashal steps out in front of the General and the flash of light and small pop inside the depths of the bunker seem like an injustice to the man of his stature that has been executed for the cause. Mashal stands over the General’s body and is disappointed for a moment. He had hoped to avoid this outcome also, but he has no remorse for his actions. They are all part of a greater plan. The sound of a barrel-scraping against metal as it is pulled up into a truck catches his attention and he focuses back on the task at hand.
The men inside the truck pull the barrel into the bed and rock it back and forth until it is settled near the cab. They repeat this until all three trucks have been filled. Twenty-one barrels of enriched Uranium leave the bunker. Mashal asks for volunteers and has more than two to choose from when he asks. Two men stay at the bunker to seal and lock it. The men will work for a while running wire throughout the rows and setting explosives throughout the complex for their next assignment. The trucks roll out of the gate as a group heads north on Fayez Mansour, but at the interchange, one truck takes the highway west to Lebanon, another stays on the road into Damascus and the third truck heads east. The next mission has just begun.
***
ASG, Jordan
The smell of strong black coffee permeates the area. It is a pleasant aroma that weaves its way through the room. The Major causes the scent to scatter across the room as he paces near the Sergeant’s desk. An hour goes by and there is no further word. Another hour passes, and it is confirmed that there has been a handful of explosions southwest of Damascus. There is no information about their magnitude or who or what might have caused them. The Major can hardly sit down. There is so much activity in Syria on a daily basis that there is really no way of knowing who did something until someone starts claiming responsibility or starts to throw some blame around and even then, it can take a while. It is too close to where he is hunting to shrug it off. He knows that even if his guys aren’t part of it, their plans can be affected. What he would give to have better intel. He checks his watch. It isn’t even six yet. Captain Ben Haim probably isn’t in the office yet, but he decides to call anyway.
“Captain Ben Haim!” Major Westbrook greets the Captain with surprise.
“Yes, good morning Major.” The Captain replies.
The Major can detect the lack of sleep in the Captain’s response. The Majo
r’s curiosity is piqued. “We heard there were some explosions over by Damascus early this morning and I’m looking for some details on it.”
“Oh that, yes, well, it’s not official but we hit a few spots on near Damascus. Nothing serious.” The Captain lets him know.
The heat rises up the Major’s neck. “Nothing serious! Why didn’t you guys let us know?” Major Westbrook is outraged.
“Well, I don’t know about that.” The Captain smiles at the insult the Major has taken upon himself. “I wasn’t involved in that operation but I’m sure they coordinated it with someone at your end. As you know, this is operational detail outside my area that I have to get approval to handoff, so I’ll have to get back with you about any additional details.” The Captain reminds him.
The Major is incensed. “You’re telling me that you guys are lighting up sensitive areas and we have to learn about it from the Syrian radio or Israeli news outlets?” The Major can’t stand it any longer. “You guys think you’re so smart. You’re the guys who lost the Iraqi General and failed to eliminate the potential threat of him leading his captors to nuclear material. You’re playing games with me while I’m trying to prevent a terrorist attack. You are making this harder every step of the way.”
“I don’t know about that Major, but we’re the ones you’re coming to for information so maybe we’re not so backward.” The Captain can’t hold himself back any longer. He is tired of dealing with the American. His superiors will understand.
“We have to come to you because you’re the ones dropping bombs. We have to find out what you’re up to.” The Major says in disgust. He tries to compose himself. He’d like nothing more than to tear the Captain up, but he still needs him, now more than ever. “Look, Captain, I appreciate you guys are working on issues that are a priority for you, but can you try to keep me in the loop as we’re trying to chase down the Iraqi General? I was concerned this might have been linked to what they are doing so I’d sleep better knowing you are going to keep me posted on things that might affect our operation to find the Iraqi.”
Captain Ben Haim smiles; the American knows he is in no position to make demands even if Ben Haim’s leadership has made him play along. They only played along as long while it suited their interests and didn’t endanger the true mission anyway, the defense of Israel. “Sure Major, I understand what you’re saying. Look, I’ll try to keep you posted on any new developments, but you know that I cannot divulge information ad hoc that is considered classified from our point of view. But I will speak to my superiors about trying to keep you in the loop as near as real-time as we can allow for sensitive missions.”
The Major feels obliged to salvage what he can in their relationship, so they can continue working together. “Understood Captain, you have operational security concerns but your efforts to keep us posted on the situation will strengthen our operation to rescue or neutralize the Iraqi.”
“Great to hear Major, I’ll speak with my superiors and see what we can do to keep you better tuned in to our efforts as much as possible.” With that, the Captain hangs up. The cocky American has been put in his place. He thinks he is in charge and can demand whatever he wants. He has forgotten that other nations have their own priorities and though they are willing to help, they aren’t at the beckon call of the Americans. Besides, he has him where he wants him, looking to him for help.
Chapter 24
PSD, Damascus
The bombing elevated all the intelligence activities in the region. Whether you are a friend of the regime or not, everyone pays attention when bombs start dropping. Umar was called into the office at four in the morning. Social media is full of speculation and chatter about the explosions. No one is accepting the responsibility on any media, but no one is offering to rise up in rebellion because of it either. Most Syrians have learned over the years the fruitlessness of standing up against the government. A rebellion will not be supported by outsiders or the world’s so-called democracies enough to make a difference and it is difficult to escape the grasp of the government if you fail. Umar thinks about these things and feels the urge to find that girl on the videos. Her following keeps growing at such a rapid pace it is making him uneasy. Her followers are talking about the explosions and the hope there can be an uprising. Some give her credit for the explosions which makes him laugh at such an absurd idea. This is how things start though and he knows it. Officers within the intelligence community already determined the source of the bombs, the Israelis. He knows it isn’t a local rebel group, but she is the star of the moment, so she is being showered online with praise for rising up and inspiring others. Speculation has started online of a network of supporters that have carried out the bombings on the ground. It doesn’t matter if it is true or not. If people want to believe it and it gains traction on social media, then that is all it takes these days. This is why he has to act fast and crush it all. There is no power behind her to support the issue of a new rebellion he knows of and without it, he has little to fear. His problem is this girl and the potential issues she can raise for him. Her following is quickly going global, which will create more problems. With each passing day, it is becoming more of an embarrassment than ever. This woman has come out of nowhere and overnight her success online is skyrocketing. Her rise in online circles is like something out of Hollywood. If he doesn’t bring her in soon, he will find himself fighting somewhere on the front lines, or worse. Umar has to find her, and he can feel his time is slipping away.
There is a tension in his chest that has grown over the past few years and it is worse now. He finds himself unable to breathe at times. He can be doing nothing important or strenuous and break out into a sudden sweat and become dizzy and lightheaded. The pressure of his job has become more intense with the rise and fall of different groups and enemies that seemed to just keep coming out of nowhere. The bombings have increased the pressure on all the intelligence services and his is no different. Even though he isn’t focused on the bombing, everything is a peripheral connection potentially, so the alert has been raised on everyone. They have to root out all the spies and revolutionaries in their midst. There is only enough intelligence to know the basics of what has happened with the bombing. They will have to dig deeper to find out if there was inside help on the targeting. Had someone worked with their enemy to set the strike up? Time will tell. Since he has already identified one revolutionary now, he has to go get her. He can feel the tension growing in his chest once again. He calls his driver in the next room to get the car. He has to get out of the office and find a lead on this girl before it is too late.
***
Safe House, Central Damascus
Mashal has not slept yet. He has been busy getting ready for the big day. He went over the supplies that they have gathered over the past few months in preparation for this day. Supplies from Iraq, Egypt, and other places lay about the floor in different stages of assembly. There are six trucks and vans of various types, no two the same. They will be the delivery vehicles for the bombs. There are ten pressure cooker looking units grouped together. They aren’t as long as a pressure cooker but looks more like metallic globes. The custom-made globes consisting of two separate halves that can be bolted together. A few other things are in different stages of construction around the warehouse. Components lay around on tables, everything from cell phones to C4. Zamir told him they need to have everything ready to be constructed when he arrived. Time will be of the essence. They have prepped the room according to Zamir’s specifications.
Mashal isn’t sure what to expect from the Syrians. The theft of the Uranium during normal times would be a huge event internally but now there is no telling what the reaction will be. They have to be ready for anything so the sooner the bombs are ready the sooner he can relax. He has bigger plans than dying in Damascus, but if that is the result, he wants to ensure he will go as a sign of his dedication to the cause in front of the world.
Zamir arrives at the safehouse at two-thirty in the
morning to join Mashal and his men if they are successful. Mashal and his men arrive not long after Zamir. Mashal jumps out of the truck when they arrive and embraces Zamir out of his excitement. “We did it, brother! Are you ready to show the world our ability to achieve greatness in the name of Allah?”
“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long-time brother,” Zamir replies looking at the truck. Zamir turns to look around the room and his makeshift laboratory relaxes him. His confidence rises as he surveys the preparations. “I think we are ready to start.”
“We are at your command brother.” Mashal offers.
“Let me see the Uranium first,” Zamir orders.
The men are busy still laying out the parts to make the assembly a quick process so Mashal walks Zamir over to a barrel and removes the lid on the container. Zamir’s face shifts from a thoughtful scientist to that of a little boy in an instant. He can hardly contain his excitement. “You know I wanted to move the weapons testing along and test new ideas, but they didn’t allow it. They relied too heavily upon the French, the Germans and everyone else.” He complains reflecting on Saddam’s reliance on the West to achieve nuclear power. “He was too busy playing games with the world, but he was never serious enough to finish. Our head scientist was smart, but he wasn’t ambitious enough either. We could have done it and put the world on notice.” Zamir refers to the head scientist whom he had differences with and hated so much; he will not mention by name. “And the Israeli’s, when they bombed Tammuz, I thought it was a setback that we would overcome but they just kept coming. Next, the Americans didn’t stop and then the war” He reflects. “I thought I might never get to this day.” Zamir’s mind returns to the work at hand. “You were able to get the last pieces?”
“Of course. The infidels will sell anything for the right price. It is time to put them on notice brother.” Mashal declares as he places a hand on Zamir’s shoulder.