Tracks

by Niv Kaplan

  Kessler would call the Center now and then to discuss logistic matters but would not divulge any information over the open phone lines. The phone at the Center was a secure line by civilian standards, but Kessler would not trust it.

  The only thing they knew for sure was that Elena had managed to reach her Beirut contacts and was so far, relatively safe. They had no idea who the contacts were or where she was staying. Kessler had given them very little information, claiming they did not need to know until their target was discovered.

  Once that happened, they would be asked to move in.

  That was extremely frustrating to Sam but he knew it was the only way they would keep Elena and, hopefully, his son out of harm’s way. Meanwhile, he needed to make sure his people were ready.

  Devlin woke him out of his reverie.

  “Did you transfer the money?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did. Just completed the transaction before I came here. Half a million US dollars are in your account in Scotland.”

  “That’s a good chap,” Devlin smiled. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, raising his glass.

  Jack joined in but Sam was in no mood for joking around.

  “So I’ll see you guys tomorrow in the park after I read the report,” he said, rising up from his seat.

  He was the only one allowed into the consulate for that purpose and he would brief his team on a grassy meadow in Central Park well out of earshot as soon as he was done reading.

  His two colleagues nodded.

  “Take it easy Sam,” Black Jack said. “We’ve waited this long…”

  “Mike, when do you fly out?” Sam inquired irritably, cutting his friend off.

  “Tomorrow night,” Devlin said.

  “OK, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Sam said as he threw a fifty dollar bill on the table and left the restaurant.

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  David Kessler stood on the bridge of the Israeli Destroyer, Achi Eilat, watching the port of Haifa disappear into the evening mist.

  It would take six hours to reach the drop off point, ten kilometers due west of the Beirut airport. It would be midnight and would take the troops another hour to reach the small dock at Khalde, just south of the airport, where Aziz would be waiting with his Land Rovers.

  The force were all below deck making final preparations. It was a mixed Special Forces unit with Navy commandos to get them safely to shore and back. The destroyer had one Blackhawk helicopter on board ready to evacuate and additional Apache helicopters were on standby along the Lebanese border. A pair of F-16s with a tanker was circling just east of Cyprus ready to provide air cover just in case.

  Everything depended on Aziz and exact timing. Kessler shuddered to think what would happen if anything went wrong - if the rendezvous point was missed or incorrect, or Aziz was waiting somewhere else, or if they were to be spotted by border patrols, or heaven forbid, there was a fire fight and he had casualties on his hands. Radio contact with Aziz was not an option. At least not on the way in, and on the way out only if they were spotted and trouble brewed.

  The drop-off point was chosen with care. There were relatively safer points further down the coast, drop-offs that had been used before, but they needed a place which was relatively close and with direct access to a paved road and that meant the outskirts of town. Khalde was higher risk but would save them at least two hours on shore.

  It took them a week to prepare the force once Aziz approached with his plan. Not everyone concurred and the final decision was taken by the Prime Minister who was, like most Israeli Prime Ministers, a high ranking ex-Special Forces officer himself.

  The intelligence on Abu Salah was often contradictory and difficult to verify, but Aziz did make one remarkable discovery that had tipped the scales in favor of going through with the mission.

  Aziz had discovered Abu Salah’s family residence.

  It was a one-storey villa in a residential area in the south part of Beirut about ten kilometers east of Khalde. Aziz’s people had trailed the man there on several occasions very late at night when he had concluded his business. After the first time they had discovered the place, they put a permanent watch who reported seeing children and women in the house to which Abu Salah came back every night.

  Though the place was well-guarded, it was an ideal place to strike. Unlike the rest of Beirut where it was mostly crowded apartment buildings and narrow streets, Abu Salah’s place was relatively isolated with very few houses and plenty of vegetation around which made it easier to approach.

  A reconnaissance sortie was quickly sent to photograph the place. The recon F-4 Phantom photographed the house from forty thousand feet, and intelligence had aerial photographs of the house and the area the following day.

  A quick model of the house and its perimeter was assembled in a similar area in Israel and the force had three whole days to simulate the takeover. At least five permanent guards were spotted by Aziz’s people added to the three who accompanied Abu Salah in his armored car.

  Colonel Amir Dori was the commander in charge. He was the deputy commander of an elite Special Forces unit chosen to carry out the mission. His force included ten specialists in stealth combat, all officers with extensive experience, all sworn to secrecy, and ten Navy commandos, three of whom were the drivers of three Zodiac boats who were to carry the men to shore from the destroyer and wait for their return.

  Kessler looked at his watch then went below deck to the briefing room. Everyone had been assembled.

  The briefing was short and to the point. Colonel Dori hovered over the aerial photograph marked with arrows and lines indicating to the troops where each unit had to be once they reached the vicinity of the house. The Land Rovers would be left a good distance away concealed amongst some trees.

  “Success means we get the guy and we remain unidentified,” Colonel Dori concluded. “We fail if we are identified and if there are casualties. This mission is top secret. None of you are to ever speak about it to anyone.”

  None of the soldiers, including Colonel Dori, knew the real reason behind their mission. In fact, no one on the boat knew, except for Kessler.

  Kessler’s job was to interrogate the prisoner and hopefully milk the information about Sons of Jihad out of him while still on the boat.

  Then he was to make him disappear.

  Three Land Rovers waited for the force near a small dock, as the Zodiacs silently made their way to shore. A Lebanese patrol boat had come with a half a kilometer of them but did not notice them as the Navy men cut the engines.

  The dock was well chosen. It was part of an abandoned section of the Beirut airport concealed by old rundown buildings. The troops silently ditched the boats treading in shallow water, running up a sandy ramp to the waiting Land Rovers.

  Aziz was joined by Colonel Dori and five men in the front vehicle. Twelve others dispersed in the two remaining vehicles.

  The drive took a half hour.

  They arrived a kilometer away from the house at one thirty in the morning. The time was chosen carefully. Aziz’s surveillance reported Abu Salah arriving home regularly between 23:00 and midnight so the attack was planned for two in the morning.

  The Land Rovers veered off the paved road and parked amongst a copse of trees. The force disembarked from the vehicles and waited for a signal to move.

  However, that signal did not come.

  The man Aziz had assigned to watch the house was waiting for them at the spot with news that Abu Salah had so far failed to arrive. It was peculiar since it was a Friday, a day which most Muslims spend at home after prayers. The day for the operation had also been selected with care.

  A quick conference took place between Dori and Aziz.

  “Is this the only way to the house?” Dori queried.

  Aziz nodded eyeing his man who also nodded.

  “Is it the reinforced Hummer?” Dori asked.

  Once again Aziz nodded.

  Dori called over two of his officers.

/>   “Change our plan,” he whispered. “We ambush the vehicle right here.”

  “That is if it gets here,” one of the officers pointed out.

  They all eyed Aziz who squirmed uncomfortably.

  “He will come,” his man said with confidence. “He never misses coming here even extremely late.”

  “How late?” Dori questioned.

  “As late as this,” the man said.

  Dori looked at his watch and made a decision.

  “Call the men,” he said to his officers.

  Everyone crouched in a circle as Dori explained the plan.

  “We shoot the tires with silencers then we wait hidden on both sides of the road. If they get out, we storm them. If they start shooting, we use silencers. Shoot to kill all except our target which you’ve all seen photographs of. He’s a heavy set man with a noticeable limp. Any questions?”

  “How late do we wait?”

  “We give him until four. If he doesn’t show, we scram. Everything clear? Danny and Weiss, you shoot the tires. Both ends! Is that clear?”

  Everyone nodded and spread out along the road to wait.

  It was another hour before the Hummer showed up moving slowly on the bumpy terrain.

  There were several metallic clicks as the silenced M-16s fired and the Hummer jerked and skidded to a halt.

  Both its front doors flew open and out came both the driver and one of the bodyguards to inspect the damage. As they surveyed the tires with a flashlight they were stormed from behind and flattened on the ground.

  The troops all had night vision equipment and it was easy to spot Abu Salah in the back seat with a bodyguard by his side. They stormed the vehicle before either had time to respond, entering the Hummer through the open front doors and pointing the machine guns at the surprised men inside.

  At gunpoint the four men were relieved of their weapons, handcuffed and herded to the trees where the Land Rovers stood waiting. The Hummer was driven on its punctured tires farther beyond the trees and into a ditch.

  The ambush took no more than five minutes then the Land Rovers headed back to the waiting boats.

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  Abu Salah eyed Kessler with contempt.

  The makeshift interrogation room on the destroyer was the detention cell on the lowest deck by the engine room. Abu Salah was seated, handcuffed to a metal chair a mere three feet away from Kessler.

  The door was shut and the room reeked as sweat dripped from the prisoner.

  Colonel Dori had made an on the spot decision to take all four Arabs back to the boat to avoid leaving tracks. The other three, Abu Salah’s bodyguards, were held under heavy guard each in a separate room on the boat. Kessler had given strict instructions not to talk to them except to allow them to relieve themselves or give them water.

  “You are here because I need information,” Kessler said to Abu Salah in Arabic.

  The heavy set man moved uncomfortably in his seat, his white shirt under a black jacket dripping with sweat.

  “You’ve been supplying arms to several groups down south that are threatening my country’s border,” Kessler continued as if unaware of the man’s discomfort.

  “I need water,” Abu Salah groaned, his mouth dry.

  “As soon as you give me what I want,” Kessler replied.

  “What do you want?” Abu Salah asked impatiently.

  “I want the names of the organizations you supply and I want to know where these arms are being kept so I can destroy them.”

  “You are joking,” Abu Salah snickered.

  Kessler remained silent looking at him intently.

  “You went into all this trouble for this?” Abu Salah scoffed. “I sell farming equipment.”

  “Does farming equipment come with bullets and explosives?”

  “I sell tractors and plows.”

  “You supply weapons to terrorists,” Kessler accused.

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  “Why else would you be travelling around in a reinforced Hummer with bodyguards?”

  “I am a rich man. I need protection from criminals and thieves.”

  Kessler was biding his time. He had the lists Aziz had confiscated in his raid which easily proved Abu Salah was an arms dealer and he had addresses and descriptions of Abu Salah’s depots Aziz had provided him as well.

  “Are you familiar with Al Qaida?” Kessler suddenly asked. “The organization who tried to blow up the Twin Towers in ’92 with a truck full of explosives?”

  “Who isn’t?” Abu Salah retorted.

  “Do you have any contacts in Iran?”

  “For farming equipment, yes!”

  “They supply you with weapons,” Kessler accused.

  “They supply me with farming equipment,” Abu Salah said quietly. “And you are going to have one gigantic diplomatic scandal on your hands if you don’t release me. Now can I have some water?”

  Kessler scrutinized him deliberately for a few seconds then knocked on the door. An armed sailor looked in.

  “Get us some water,” Kessler said and was provided with a plastic bottle which he poured into the prisoner’s mouth.

  Abu Salah gulped thirstily, the water dripping all over his neck and clothes.

  “Does this refresh your memory?” Kessler asked once the entire bottle had been emptied down the prisoner’s throat.

  Abu Salah looked smug.

  “I demand my immediate release!” he declared. “I am a Lebanese businessman and you have no right to hold me here like a common criminal.”

  “Here’s the deal, Ahmed,” Kessler muttered threateningly, calling him by his first name for the first time. “You give me the organizations and locations of the arms you supplied them. I blow them away, then you get to go back home. How’s that sound?”

  Abu Salah looked surprised for a brief second then reiterated his mantra.

  Kessler fished out the lists from his breast pocket and flashed at him.

  “We have lists of transactions, payments made to various suppliers, lists of various armaments purchased, and their distribution sites. None of it is farming equipment. Now do you want to cooperate or does this sorry little show of yours go on?”

  “You’re bluffing,” Abu Salah said.

  “These lists were downloaded off a computer from one of your command posts. You may recall a small raid in the Shiite area where some weapons were stolen from you?”

  Abu Salah looked blank.

  “The weapons were just a diversion. We were after the info you had in the computer,” Kessler said holding up the lists again. “Now can we do business or not?”

  A hint of panic crossed over the prisoner’s face as he squinted to try and decipher the small print on the paper in Kessler’s hand.

  “Al Qaida is mentioned as well as Hezbollah and the PLO,” Kessler surmised. “I need names and I need locations so I can eliminate this threat against my country.”

  “I don’t have a clue where they keep the stuff,” Abu Salah finally said, admitting his involvement.

  Kessler did not expect him to know much beyond his own distribution sites but he had him where he wanted him.

  “If you cooperate with me in the next five minutes, I’ll send you right back home tonight, the same way you got here,” Kessler said patiently. “Do we understand one another?”

  “I only know my depot sites,” Abu Salah defended himself. “I send it, then Allah knows where it goes.”

  “That’ll do,” Kessler said. “I’ll read off your customers from this list and you tell me where each site is.”

  “There’s only a couple in the South,” Abu Salah said trying to minimize the damage. “The rest are in Beirut. Are you going to bomb Beirut now? That’ll start a war!”

  “You leave that to me. I will not start a war on account of you,” Kessler assured him. “Now can we begin?”

  The prisoner sighed. “Can I get some more water?”

  “He looked shocked when I casually m
entioned the Sons of Jihad,” Kessler described his interrogation session to Harry Fleming and Doug Collins when the Achi Eilat docked back in the Navy port near Haifa.

  “It was a tense moment, I must admit,” Kessler revealed to his two colleagues. “He looked at me wondering if I really had that name on the list. I said it right after Islamic Jihad so I guess it seemed authentic. Anyway, I was worried he’d baulk, but he spilled it finally. He gave me a location in the center of Beirut, which seemed logical from what we know but we need to have it thoroughly checked though before we proceed.”

  “Yes, yes,” Harry Fleming was saying. “Good for you, old chap. I didn’t think you could pull it off.”

  “What do we do with him?” Doug Collins was asking.

  “It’s him and his goons,” Kessler informed them. “We took three of his bodyguards for the ride as well.”

  “You did what?” Fleming jumped in.

  “We had to improvise,” Kessler said. “We couldn’t leave tracks.”

  “Well, you certainly did just that,” Fleming commented. “It’ll get noticed four times as fast.”

  “It might, but they’ll never figure out what we were after.”

  “So what do you plan to do with them?” Collins pressed.

  “You should not concern yourselves with this, Gents. It’s our problem, we’ll deal with it.”

  “How involved are they?” Collins asked.

  “Not at all, in my opinion. They only supply weapons.”

  “We’ll inform our people,” Collins said.

  “You do that, but wait until we meet again before we make any moves. I still need a confirmation on the location.”

  “Right. We'll keep you updated. Good job, David.”

  An open military jeep screeched to a halt next to Kessler who jumped in, hurrying to a nearby helicopter pad. He needed to meet with Aziz to verify the location. Until then, Abu Salah was not going anywhere.

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR