by Brad Carlson
“Mr. President, it seems that whoever launched these had an excellent feel for American sporting events,” Homeland Secretary Bob Harmon began. “They launched thirty missiles at Fenway Park where the Red Sox and Yankees were playing and another fifty targeted Gillette Stadium for the Patriots’ season opener. In New York, they targeted Citi Stadium for the Mets – Braves game and Arthur Ashe stadium for the men’s final of the US Open Tennis championship. We’re not going to know the final casualty count for days. We know we’re going to have several thousand fatalities—for that matter, in terms of casualties, we’ll easily have more than 9-11.”
“Do we have any idea as to who did this?” President Barre asked his staff.
“It’s way too soon, sir,” Harmon immediately replied. “This just happened only a couple hours ago.”
“Actually, we have an idea, and a lot of information to go on,” Axelsson interrupted. “To begin with, the very nature of this attack screams asymmetrical warfare and there are only a few countries and organizations particularly adept to pull off something like this—Iran used to be and Al Qaeda probably still is. Regardless, it’s a pretty short list. Secondly, we had a submarine returning to base off Long Island and they heard the initial launching but didn’t know what it was. By the time they were able to surface and look around, they saw the last of the missiles leave two of the ships. These two ships, plus a third one, had exhaust trails leading directly from them and were partially obscured from the missile exhaust. However, the Minnesota circled the area and took all kinds of pictures. Once the smoke cleared, they got some pretty good pics—turns out two of these things are Russian-flagged vessels. For the three ships off of Long Island, we’ve got the names of the ships, the flag they were flying under, everything. It doesn’t appear they were trying to hide anything—either that or they were thinking they’d be relatively isolated that far off the coast. ”
“Mr. President,” broke in Jim Carmichael, the Assistant Director of the CIA, “Eric’s right. With these photos, not only do we have the name of each ship, but we can track where they came from, including every port they’ve stopped at, the cargo they’re carrying, the captain and quite probably a complete listing of the crew. I’ll have everything put together for you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Do that!” President Barre ordered. “I want that report on my desk before I get in the office.”
“Mr. President, one more thing,” broke in Treasury Secretary Craig Monroe. “I’ll be closing the stock markets in the morning and anticipate having them closed most of the week. We did this a couple months ago and now we’ll need to do it once again. The markets are still going to take a beating but I’d like to let things settle down a bit before we reopen them. It may not make much of a difference but there’s nothing else we really can do at this point. The markets were just starting to recover from the beating we took six weeks ago and now this.”
“Good point, Craig. We can’t let them open. I don’t like it but as you say, we don’t have much choice. Okay, I want every one of you on the phone, pressing your contacts. I want to know who did this and I want to know now! If two of these ships are indeed Russian flagged vessels, I want the Russian Ambassador in my office by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. If he’s not here by then, send someone to get him! Dismissed,” said an infuriated President Barre.
III
Monday, September 10th
Tel Aviv, Israel
7:00 AM Local Time
“How’re those ribs feelin’?” Colonel Tom ‘Stonewall’ Jackson asked Dani as he surprised her with a take-down that completely caught her off guard. The two had been sparring partners since the Tehran operation six weeks earlier. Stonewall had spent virtually his entire career with the Special Forces’ 5th Group, whose area of responsibility covers the Middle East and most of North Africa, though his current assignment had him on loan to the CIA based out of Tel Aviv.
“Ahh,” Dani quietly sighed. “About the same as yours, I imagine.”
“Yeah, but I only got shot in the back. You took one in the chest and another in the back—at the same time, no less.”
“Guess I’m just a more attractive target, huh? That scar across your face and that black eye patch kind of tarnishes your image just a bit,” she added with a huge grin. Dani, Major Danielle Yaniv, served with the elite Sayeret Matkal, known more familiarly as simply the ‘Unit.’ Her relatively tall, athletic frame complemented a natural elegance that could have landed her a modeling job in New York City or Paris. The scars she bore, a laceration across her left bicep and rib cage—courtesy of a target’s bodyguard who inflicted both marks with one swing of a knife—as well as a relatively new bullet wound to her thigh—complements of the Iranian Republican Guards—testified to the fierce commando she had become. The two had resumed their Systema sparring routine the previous week, much to the chagrin of their trainers—broken ribs, and a collapsed lung, take time to heal.
“Whoa, that’s cold. And, here I thought they enhanced my image,” Jackson replied.
“Yeah, I’m partial to that black onyx eye you have with the Special Forces logo engraved on it. It just gives me the warm fuzzies knowing I have a Green Beret by my side all the time,” Dani replied with a wide grin.
“Oh, you really are something else, aren’t you?” Jackson replied.
“You ready?” Dani asked, with a fierce determined look in her eyes as she tightened her thick raven haired ponytail.
“Whenever you are,” Stonewall replied, as he tried to sneak a fast take-down move on her. This time, she caught Stonewall by surprise: She brushed his right arm aside and grabbed his wrist with her right hand. She then pivoted, taking her left arm and swung it under Stonewall’s right arm and grabbed the back of his neck. Using his arm as a virtual lever, she pulled him under her left shoulder and, spinning him around, threw him to the ground underneath her. She then placed a knee on his chest for the ostensible coup d’grace. The entire move took less than a second and left Jackson dumbfounded.
“Umph,” was the spontaneous response from Jackson as he landed flat on his back.
“Gotcha.”
“Uh, you sure did,” Stonewall replied still laying on his back, trying hard not to smile back at her, knowing she had thoroughly whipped him. “On that note, you ready to head home?” Their ‘home’ came about after Hezbollah had leveled Dani’s apartment complex six weeks earlier with a massive missile barrage that overwhelmed the vaunted Iron Dome defenses. Thousands had been killed, many thousands more injured, and countless numbers left homeless, Dani among them. The United States government had placed Jackson in the Daniel Hotel, a rather swank hotel on the Mediterranean coast that had miraculously escaped the onslaught. The Daniel offered all of the amenities both of them needed for a couple weeks to recover from their injuries sustained in Tehran. In that time period, they had decided to find an apartment together.
“How’d you say those ribs are feeling?” Dani asked, rubbing in her victory.
“They’re fine, nothing a hot shower won’t fix.”
“Agree with you there,” Dani replied. “Let’s get out of here and get cleaned up.”
“Works for me,” Jackson added as they each grabbed their gear and headed out the door of the academy. “I still can’t believe you got this car so quickly.” Dani’s previous car, a Cadillac ATS-V, had been destroyed when her apartment building collapsed on it. She replaced that car with a special ordered two-door Cadillac ATS-V—only three model years newer, and much more stylish—and style was critically important.
“Just like everything else, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and Tamir really pulled some strings for me,” she added as they both threw their duffle bags in the trunk.
“Breakfast at home or on the way in?” Jackson asked as Dani’s cell phone rang.
“Arielle, how soon can you and Stonewell get to the office?” asked the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Hi, Tamir,” Dani replied. �
��We were just heading home after our morning workout. What’s up?”
“I need you here right away—don’t bother changing clothes—I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
“We’ll be there in ten,” Dani advised ending the call. “That was Tamir. Something’s up. He wants us in right away—and he said not to bother changing. This can’t be good.”
“Well, you’re at least half-ways dressed for this,” Jackson replied. Dani’s tremendous sense of style even extended to her workout gear, currently consisting of Under Armour form fitting training shorts and a fashionable—though functional—sports bra along with a Coldgear knit jacket which she left unzipped, revealing an impressive six-pack. By contrast, Jackson had a pair of Special Forces-embroidered Russell gym shorts and a faded t-shirt.
“Hey, Tamir, what’s up?” Dani asked as she walked into General Tamir Pardo’s office.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” the Mossad director replied. “Earlier this morning, we sent a flight of four F-16s over Syria to take out another Hezbollah site in the Homs area. While enroute, they got lit up by the Russian S-400 missile system in Latakia. That’s happened a few times before but this time they hit us with something new. The Russians actually launched four missiles at them—three of our fighters went down. The one remaining saw four good chutes and confirmed that all four were taken captive. This happened around Palmyra, which ISIS controls.”
“Oh, my God!” Dani exclaimed. “You know what they’ll do to them.”
“Yes, I do, but there’s more, and this concerns Stonewall. It seems that the Iranian attacks in the US a couple months ago had one delayed attack. Details are still pretty sketchy but it seems that someone, presumably Hezbollah, launched a couple hundred scud missiles at the US east coast, with Boston and New York City taking the brunt of everything.”
“What?!? Hezbollah? How in the hell could they do that?” Jackson asked. “When did this happen? I haven’t even heard this on the local radio.”
“I believe it happened roughly eight hours ago at this point. I’m sure Jim will be getting ahold of you with more details. As to Hezbollah, they’ve got connections, and remember, Iran was their primary arms supplier—and while you’ve taken Iran out of that picture, Hezbollah had a huge stockpile. You know how they hammered us and we destroyed everything that we could—they must have gotten these out before we could hit them.”
“But if it literally just happened, how are you so sure Hezbollah did this?” Jackson asked.
“I’ve had our folks working on this all night, and it’s not too hard to narrow down the likely suspects, especially since Jim gave me the names of the cargo ships involved in the attack. We’ve already traced back their last few ports. I’m certain it’s Hezbollah. The only real question is who else might have been involved. We should be able to nail this down pretty quickly, at least to the countries involved, if not personnel as well.”
“You think it’s more than just Syria and Iran?”
“That’s what we’re working on, and we’ll find out.”
“Okay, I’ll let Jim know when he calls.”
“In the meantime, we have our own problems over here,” Tamir continued. “I’m sending two recon teams up to Raqqa to keep a lookout for our pilots. Arielle, if you’re up to it, I’d like to send you to Palmyra with a team. Stonewall, I know this is really stretching your authorization, but I’d like you to be a part of her team. It’ll be a recon mission as well. They were shot down in the Palmyra area, and the Tadmur prison is right there. We fully expect they will transport them to Raqqa, though we have no idea as to when that will happen.”
“We’re ready to go, Tamir. It’s been about a month and a half. The ribs have healed and the leg is fine,” Arielle replied.
“Are you sure? Ribs can take a while to heal.”
“I’m fine Tamir. Stonewall and I have been working out together for the past couple weeks and I’m pretty much back to my normal routine.”
“Colonel?” Pardo said, looking at Stonewall rather intently. “I know your record and you know the job. Is she ready to go?” Jackson had an extensive record: he led one of the first two Special Forces A-teams into Afghanistan after the 9/11 attacks, playing an instrumental role in a key Taliban defeat, and then went on to serve multiple tours in both Afghanistan and Iraq, picking up three Silver Stars and a couple Purple Hearts along the way—at the cost of his left eye.
“General,” Stonewall replied, somewhat surprised by Tamir’s stern questioning, “I don’t need to tell you of her resolve. We’ve been pushing it pretty hard, especially this past week. She’s ready. As for me, I’d be honored to go. Jim wants me scouting out the Syrian landscape anyway so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Excellent. Arielle, initially, your job will be to get confirmation as to where they’re at—if they haven’t left the area by the time you get up there. If a situation presents itself to actually rescue them, you are fully authorized to do that. However, you are on your own for this. If you get in trouble, the soonest we could get a team in to help you is a couple hours. Jonathan Dayan and Avraham Levy will be joining you two.”
“I know them both well. I’ve worked with both of them before,” Dani replied.
“I thought you had. You’ll meet up with them up at Camp Yitzhak in the Golan Heights. From there, you’ll be in two teams where you’ll each have either a Toyota 4Runner or Highlander, licensed and registered in Syria. It’ll take you about five, maybe six hours to drive up there. We’ve got papers for you, Stonewall, and you can pick them up on your way out.”
“How long do you expect us to be up there?” Dani asked.
“It’s pretty open ended. If you discover they’ve left and can get word to the teams in Raqqa, we wouldn’t need you there any longer. However, I don’t expect you to break into Tadmur so if they decide to leave them there, which I doubt they will, you could be there several days. If that’s the case, we’ll send a relief team to keep you from arousing any suspicion. Again, this all assumes that they won’t have moved them before you get up there.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
“No, just be careful. Neither of you will have any trouble blending in with the local populace but ISIS is very unpredictable. I assume you speak Arabic?” Tamir asked, looking at Jackson.
“I do. With all of my time with the Fifth Group over here, it kind of became a necessity.”
“I thought as much,” Pardo replied. “Do not take any unnecessary chances. The rest of your team is already up at Latakia. When you get back, I expect we’ll be sending you up there.”
“You can count on that. We’ll see you in a few days,” Jackson added.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Jackson admitted to Dani as they headed back out to the parking lot.
“Sorry he put you on the spot like that,” Dani said as they both got in her car. “It doesn’t surprise me, but I wasn’t expecting that, either.”
“Is Tamir comfortable with you being in the Unit?” Jackson asked. “He seemed almost a bit overly concerned. On the Tehran operation, he simply asked if I’d be interested to go along. This time, he actually asked if I thought you were ready to go.”
“Well, in Tehran, we had a much bigger team and we were pretty well established with our safe house. Here, it’s just the four of us out in the open so to speak. Plus, I’ve told you my sister and I are practically his daughters.”
“Yeah, you said your family was close but your sister’s not in the ‘family business.’”
“No, she isn’t, but you don’t know the full story. Tamir has three boys. He never had a daughter. I told you that my dad served with Tamir in the paratroopers, and that my grandfather and Tamir’s father served with General Arik Sharon in the Sinai in the ’67 war. After that, both of them, that is Tamir and my dad, served in the Unit and they each took part in the raid at Entebbe.”
“Wait a minute—you mean your dad and Tamir both took part in the Entebbe raid?” Jackson asked un
believably. “No wonder your families are so close.”
“Oh, yeah, ever since I was a little girl, Tamir has been like a second dad to both my sister and me. When our dad was away—which was quite often by the way—Tamir always looked out for us—I guess he always wanted to make sure there was a ‘father-figure’ in our lives when dad was away. After I graduated from college and wanted to pursue my Ph.D. at Texas A & M, Tamir is the one who secured the visa for me. I mean, your State Department isn’t going to just let any foreigner study nuclear engineering in the States. When I finished my degree, I came home and wanted a new challenge.”
“Of course, you did, Miss Overachiever,” Jackson added.
“Well, you know how it is,” she added with a guilty-as-charged grin. “I was technically still a part of the IDF so I asked Tamir if I could try out for the Unit. He was floored, and my dad was livid, but they both knew I’m more than a bit determined once I have my mind set on something. It was actually Tamir who gave me the name ‘Arielle’—Lioness of God.”
“Yeah, from what I’ve seen, ‘fearlessly tenacious’ seems a bit of a mild understatement describing you,” Jackson added.
“Well, you know what it’s like. You’re in the Special Forces, and I know you’re training wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Ours wasn’t either. You have to be incredibly, almost laser focused or you won’t stand a chance, and that’s for a guy. You can’t imagine how tough it was for a woman. Women had never been a part of the Sayeret Matkal but we’ve had raids where a couple women on the team would have really helped—Ehud Barak even went on a raid onetime disguised as a woman—and your own Delta Force has had women on some teams, so I was able to persuade Tamir to give me a chance. I’m glad Zivah was there with me, otherwise, I’d have never made it through. She’d probably say the same thing about me. At one point, each one of the recruits is ‘captured’—I imagine it’s probably not unlike your SERE training—only worse, as our trainers didn’t have the same moral and ethical standards yours do.”