By doing so, the Agency became aware of Darrel Lippnow’s activities. For months, the CIA had been monitoring his electronic footprint, turning a blind eye as part of an elaborate scheme to intercept deliveries and sabotage the parts before they reached Iran. International sanctions force Iran to buy Western-made parts for their nuclear program from third parties, facilitated by people like Lippnow. His operation was identified as a prime opportunity for sabotage. So while it seemed to Balducci that the CIA was cooperating with him, the CIA was actually planning to undermine his very efforts.
The CIA’s multi-front covert war against Iran’s nuclear ambitions had been going on for years. The recently lifted international economic sanctions against Iran had merely been the overt front. The covert side included cyber-attacks like Stuxnet and Flame being two that were discovered. There were acts of sabotage, like when the power line to Iran’s underground Fordow plant was physically cut in a way that suggested an on-the-ground Special Forces sabotage operation. And in alleged assassinations, Iranian state television said attackers riding on motorcycles attached bombs to the car windows of nuclear scientists as they were driving to work. The supply of counterfeit and faulty parts was yet another front. Unbeknownst to Lippnow, he was one aspect of this war. The CIA was reportedly working closely with the Israeli Mossad intelligence agency, allegedly the agreement for Israel not to launch a preemptive military strike on Iran.
Iran continued its work with determination. It waged a campaign of disinformation to complicate and confuse the issue of breakout time— the threshold when Iran would have the capability to complete an operational bomb. Iran’s nuclear energy website published details of a study citing breakout times of 18 months for a uranium bomb, and several years for a plutonium bomb, rather than the two-three months breakout believed by Western experts. Meanwhile Iran sticks to the mantra claiming the country has never taken a decision to produce a bomb, insisting that they are merely working on energy production, or for medical isotopes.
“They’re so full of shit,” Molan told her boss, shaking her head in amazement at how the White House believes Iran despite them citing a different reason each time. But Molan was not privy to the two-faced president’s conniving plan that promised the Israelis that Iran would not go nuclear while at the same time assigning Balducci to work to facilitate the Iranian bomb as a political counter to expansionist Russia.
Balducci had briefed the plan to Molan during their first meeting. “Cooperation with Iran is especially expedient now given the Sunni Muslims running rampant in Syria and Iraq.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Molan retorted, citing the age-old adage about unexpected alliances.
“That’s exactly right. But the president believes this cooperation can lead to improved overall relations, and a more stable Middle East.”
Molan understood the logic. It was a twist on the U.S. policy of using weapon sales as a foreign policy tool to moderate a country’s behavior and align them with the U.S. Here was the same idea—incomprehensible as it were—but approved by a United States president whose inexperience, she believed—especially on the international scene—became more evident each day he was in office.
“Not only that,” Balducci continued. “A nuclear Iran would pose a greater threat to Russia than anyone. That would make Russia think twice before invading Poland or some of their other former republics, dontcha think?” He smiled and winked.
Does this guy really believe what he is saying? Molan wondered.
“Politics makes for strange bedfellows,” Molan said, throwing out yet another cliche. She was a bit overwhelmed and uncomfortable, and wasn’t really sure what else to say.
“So let me get this straight,” she said out loud, more to make sense to herself than as argument, “We’re now cozying up to the guys that fund, arm and train terrorists in Lebanon, Gaza, Yemen, Syria, Iraq and others, just full of terrorists that kill Americans and loath Western values and everything we stand for? And how can we forget Iran’s Revolutionary Guards—those behind the explosive-formed penetrators that killed and maimed scores of our soldiers in Iraq? She realized she should probably just shut up, but this whole situation was really fucked up and infuriated her.
“Don’t be stuck in your ways, old timer!” He winked at her again. “Things change. Germany and Japan are among our best friends. Did you know we’re selling satellites to Vietnam! And now they are authorized to purchase American weapons. Hell, next thing you know we’ll be selling them the stealth fighter!”
Maybe he was right.
Later, briefing her boss Bob Cunningham, she summarized: “So the president was clandestinely punishing Russia for its recent aggression after all by creating Iran as a counterweight in a highly dangerous and irreversible way. So that’s the grand strategy of the genius in the White House—give the Iranians nukes to keep the Russians in check!”
“Molan! Your tongue is a bit too loose today.” A transplant from Boston, Cunningham still spoke with a distinct accent.
“I’m sorry sir. I’ve been around too long and seen brilliant ideas like this one fail one after another. What seems like a good idea today will come back and haunt us.”
In a private audience Balducci had had with the president in the Oval Office, the president had told him that the U.S. figured Israel would not use its nukes—”If they have them,” the president added with a wink of one eye—against Iran, “despite all the confrontational rhetoric spewing out of Jerusalem about taking matters into their own hands. Israel will have to come to terms,” the president added, “that Iran will become a nuclear power.”
“The Israelis won’t attack?”
“Nope,” the president answered confidently, shaking his head from side to side.
“Then what would stop Iran from attacking Israel?” Balducci had queried.
“Our assessment is that its leaders are all too familiar with Israel’s second strike capability.”
“The new stealth fighters they’re getting?”
“No,” the president shook his head again. “Their subs. They could deliver a serious blow to Iran, hitting Teheran.”
This was all new to Balducci at the time. He had no idea that Israel had nuclear armed subs, but figured incorrectly that it was part of the U.S. military aid to that country as part of the U.S. pledge to maintain Israel’s qualitative military edge, the so-called QME touted on Capitol Hill. He later learned the Jewish state’s fleet of submarines came from Germany.
Balducci now had a secret mandate from the president of the United States to facilitate Iran’s acquisition of whatever it needs to become a nuclear power, despite the agreement and public efforts to thwart the Islamic Republic’s drive to go nuclear.
Following that White House meeting, Balducci appeared at the CIA equipped with the requisite letter of introduction addressed to the CIA’s director and signed by the president, instructing the agency to fully support the presidential-sanctioned initiative that Balducci came to present. In other words, YOU WILL DO WHAT THIS GUY ASKS OF YOU.
Molan was first summoned to the Old Building’s seventh floor, where the CIA’s big chiefs had their offices. Confident as she was in her job and performance, she couldn’t help but feel intimidated when called to the executive suites, especially when she didn’t know what about. She looked at herself in a folding compact mirror and blush set, put on a fresh layer of lipstick and gave her cheeks a light dusting of blush to keep her from looking pale from nervousness. Her heart was pounding slightly as she wondered what this was all about, or what new and exciting matter might be assigned to her as part of her service to the nation.
She made her way through the labyrinthine maze of hallways designed to shield against eavesdropping and other electronic snooping. She walked past the Directors Gallery of framed portraits of past CIA directors and thought for a moment how many directors she had gone through in her twenty year-
long career at the Agency.
Why can’t they leave this stuff to the professionals? she rhetorically thought to herself, fully understanding that the White House can do what it wants and that the agency had to play along. Molan had seen such White House-hatched initiatives in the past, and seen most of them fail. She did not like these idiots coming over from the White House with their grandiose plans, which they so often ended fucking up, like their Iraq policy involving 8 years of combat operations, some 4500 American KIA’s and estimated costs of the war reaching from $1-2 trillion. The CIA and the military were livid. The CIA’s director reportedly admonished senior White House staff in anger that “foreign policy is not conducted on a whim!” The White House was so anxious to rid itself of the Iraq entanglement that it withdrew U.S. forces, the CIA blamed idiots in the White House for al-Qaeda’s resurgence and the sectarian violence that has plagued the country, and for ISIS gaining its foothold.
The director’s desk faced the entrance to the office. A specially-coated window that dampened emissions looked out on a wooded area of the CIA’s grounds. Hanging on the wall behind the director’s desk was a gold-fringed United States flag recovered from the wreckage of the World Trade Center, now mounted and framed in gold. Each time she saw this, this, treasure, it made her tingle with pride, for the way she saw things, her country’s flag and all it stood for was framed in gold. Yet this one had been trampled upon by enemies of the United States. More than fifteen years on, it still infuriated her what the Muslims had done to her country with their cowardly terror attacks that killed some 3000 innocents on September 11, 2001.
She had felt sidelined during the Agency’s growth after 9/11, when so many young hot-shots were hired in the mad rush to track down Islamist militant group al-Qaeda leader and 9/11 attack mastermind Osama Bin Laden during the U.S.’ war on terror. After Bin Laden’s elimination in May 2011 by U.S. Navy Special forces, the importance of the “war on terror” department dwindled. Iran once again became one of the leading departments in the Agency.
The Iranians were more Muslims armed to the teeth, but these ones were developing the means to deliver the most devastating weapons in the world which, if employed, would make 9/1l’s casualties pale in comparison. Why the White House didn’t get it was beyond her.
The CIA’s director discussed the U.S.’ Iran policy with her, for he truly valued her knowledge of Iran. Her immediate boss was seated on a couch in the office, taking in the exchange but saying nothing after an initial greeting. “Now that the U.S. has come to an agreement with them on the nuclear issue, it should bolster Iran’s pragmatists and facilitate a normalization of relations with the West, with the added benefit of more responsible behavior in its region. Do you agree with that assessment, Susan?”
“Responsible behavior?” she questioned. “Sir, their regional policy is run through the Revolutionary Guards!” A tall, confident Virginia native, Susan Molan was not afraid to speak her mind.
“Hold your horses, cowgirl!” he winked, and she smiled. Winking was the closest she had ever seen the CIA’s director come to smiling. He was one of those people who simply couldn’t bring himself to smile. Even in a framed family portrait on his desk, a framed photograph on the office wall of him shaking hands with the president, and yet another receiving the intelligence community’s highest award of recognition for his role in tracking down arch-terrorist Osama Bin Laden, he wore the same stoic, serious expression, without a hint of smile.
“Failure of the talks would have been a victory to the hard-liners, Susan.”
“I’m not following you, sir. So are you in favor of capitulating to...”
“Molan!” He raised his voice, but not in true anger.
“I’m sorry sir. I couldn’t resist.” She smiled; of course he did not, although the air remained friendly. “How about ‘accommodating’?”
“Better word choice. And no, I am not in favor of capitulating to or accommodating anyone, especially not Iran.”
“Iran’s supreme leader is the only one with any real political power in the country. Gentlemen,” she glanced at her boss seated on the couch and then back to the Director, “If you listen to his words, you’ve got your hand on the heartbeat of the true Iran. The guys smiling at the West are not the true reflection of that country’s will.”
The Director nodded. “Go on.”
She continued, trying to make an impression. “I’ve seen excerpts of his speeches with their regular references to the United States as ‘the enemy’ and warning not to trust us. And he recently called on Iranians to focus on internal solutions for boosting their economy, rather than aspiring to join the community of nations.”
“Don’t read into that too much, Susan. Don’t forget that things said at home are often for internal consumption. It’s all politics, while in truth they may be truly working with us on the international front, so don’t accept the leader’s speeches fully at face value.”
Molan’s first meeting with Balducci had been held in an external meeting room facility in the CIA’s Original Headquarters Building, just off the main foyer with the sixteen-foot diameter Central Intelligence Agency emblem inlaid in the polished granite floor. The external rooms were nicely decorated, with wallpaper and very high quality beautifully framed photographs of Washington’s sites, like the Lincoln and Jefferson monuments, the Capitol and the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial. In truth, it was easier to hold meetings there, as it negated dealing with the idiots in security, but in this case it also conveyed a message of standoffishness. Molan looked at the Asian-featured man being ushered into the room with that look of dissonance Balducci knew so well, but feeling the coldness she conveyed, he opted to get straight to business rather than his normal opener explaining his family tree.
As Balducci outlined the White House’s covert plan, Molan pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head from side to side. “I don’t like the sound of it.”
Though she was a career civil servant, she was not particularly fond of her president, confiding to friends her opinion that the president “has his head up his ass.”
“Has the president considered how Iran,” which she pronounced ‘Ee- ran,’ “is going to conduct itself once it has the bomb?” Molan asked Balducci with a hint of condescending sarcasm.
“I’m sure the president has considered this matter very carefully.”
In other words, Molan quickly interpreted, this guy’s got no clue. And probably the president doesn’t either. It’s easy to get into a pickle, but not so easy to get out.
“Does the president think they’re going to rest on their laurels and start behaving like Eagle Scouts?”
Balducci straightened his back, preparing to respond, but was interrupted by Molan, who asked, “Or will it only encourage them to continue undermining the United States’ presence and standing in the region, now equipped with hundreds of billions in unfrozen assets and oil profits to bankroll their efforts?”
Later, briefing her boss on the meeting with Balducci and the White House’s activities, she opined to Cunningham, “Sir, it doesn’t bode well that Iran’s surface-to-surface missiles can reach all of Europe, and perhaps parts of the United States. And now the President is giving them carte blanche to develop the nukes they need to ride on top of those missiles? How stupid can they be?” Cunningham frowned at Molan’s vocal criticism of the White House, to whom they ultimately reported, but he understood how passionate Susan Molan was on this matter.
The CIA was also tracking Iran’s ballistic missile development efforts, while everyone was focused on that country’s nuclear program. Analysts in Langley surmised that North Korea was helping Iran develop its missiles, especially in the area of missile guidance systems. Molan, arguably the Agency’s leading Iran expert, had helped author a report suggesting that Iran was already engaged in developing a nuclear warhead for the Shihab-3 missile. HUMINT sources had told of test launch
es of missiles carrying an empty warhead, but containing all the necessary mechanics to detonate a nuclear explosion. U.S. intelligence-gathering spy satellites had picked up the test launches, but only the subsequent HUMINT report revealed how grave the situation truly was.
“Look, I agree with you, Susan,” her boss told her. “You know as well as I do that Iran is developing ICBM’s capable of targeting the U.S. itself.” Molan’s report had included an assessment that Iran was working on intercontinental ballistic missiles.
“And they’ve been accelerating development of their long range missiles,” she added.
“The Agency considers Iran’s long range missiles program a source for major concern.”
“So why the hell is the White House allowing them to get nukes to bolt on top of an ICBM?”
“I agree. We’ve been tracking Iran’s so-called space program. That’s the veil they’re using for their long-range missile program.”
“Of course.” Susan nodded her head in understanding. “It’s dual use technology. The same launchers they’re claiming they need for their satellites can be used for military purposes.”
“And they’re doing all this in parallel with their nuclear weapons development efforts.”
Understanding the implication, Molan nodded her head up and down again, completing the picture: “...so that when they get their nuclear bomb, their long-range missiles to deliver them anywhere will be ready as well.”
The director pursed his lips and shook his head up and down, acknowledging what amounted to a doomsday scenario to this American patriot who had come of age during the Iranian hostage crisis and Carter Administrations, when she felt her country weak and vulnerable, calling into question all that she had been taught about a strong America as a global leader. The country of space exploration that faced off against Fascist tyranny in WWII, and stood up against Godless communism in the Cold War. She really believed this stuff.
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