by Jack Winnick
Lara finally arrived home, brimming with items to bring to Tom’s attention. After assuring her hosts that all was well, she headed upstairs to clean up and rewet her contact lenses. Then, in a hurry, she left a message with Tom that she had important news. It was now around 5:00 a.m. in New York. Luckily, Tom was an early riser. She lay on the bed, with her agency phone set to vibrate, in her hand. Sara would tap on her door when they were set for dinner.
It was less than an hour when the vibrating phone interrupted her light sleep. Tom was alert and ready to hear what she had for him. Lara, who had been rehearsing the news in her head, launched into the details of her day, starting with her new position at the Military Intelligence headquarters. She quickly then got to the most important issue: the impending attack on the San Francisco water supply. Tom was silent as she described her conversation with Gharoub about Project Neptune. There was a pause as Tom processed this; he would have to act quickly if the enemy was this far advanced into their plans.
“First thing, Lara,” he said, controlling his emotions at this disturbing development, “is to get some dialogue going . . . see how much detail we can get out of them. Let’s say we send out on a line we know they’re monitoring, a ‘CSfC’ message. These, they’ll bring to you, hopefully, since you’ve shown your capability with them. There will be some factual information in the translation you can give them, with a hidden stenographic message only for you. We can keep up a dialogue with them this way. You can translate the CSfC for them and keep the other part for yourself.
“You can then give them a coded message to transmit back to their agents here in the States, indicating how to proceed. We’ll keep up this artificial ‘secret’ dialogue until we’re sure we have their plans and are ready for them. In other words, we’ll keep sending out CSfC’s that you will translate for them. Each will have one of these stenographic messages for you. As long as they have every reason to believe in what they get from you, and we’ll be sure they get confirming data on our movements, we’ll be able to stay one step ahead. At least, that’s the plan for now . . . are you reading me?”
“Yes, I get it . . . but you know I won’t be the one coding and sending the outgoing signals to their agents, right?”
“That’s all right . . . as long as you get to see them and can decode them yourself. After all, they have to depend on you knowing what’s going on, correct?”
Lara thought about all this for just a moment, the details of this hide-and-seek game rushing through her mind. “Affirmative, Tom!” She was eager to give this a go. The stenographic part, the code within a code, was one of the latest tricks the NSA had come up with since 9/11. Hackers who had broken into a coded message, say, one that was in a CSfC transmission, would still not be able to decode, or even detect, the stenographic portion.
“We’ll send them a test signal right away; hopefully, they’ll bring it directly to you.”
“Sounds good, Tom! Oh, any news from my partner?”
“He’s getting a good start. Not much more I can tell you right now.”
With that, they terminated the connection. All of this had taken less than three minutes. Lara’s heart was going at least double-time as she tried to process all that had just transpired. Of course, nothing could be written down; she would have to memorize it, then go over it all in her mind later that night.
Chapter 14
Lara’s next day, her first full day at her new position, started with a surge of adrenaline. Her new aide, the timid Captain Maloof was showing her the various files pertaining to Project Neptune, the coming attack on the San Francisco water supply. The most important files, he informed her, were the coded messages coming in from the teams of attackers getting in place on the peninsula. Then there were the intercepted signals from the Americans, presumably concerning any anticipated attack. These were apparently sent to agents and other assets the Americans had in the field. The Iranians so far had not successfully decoded and translated them.
As he was showing her the pertinent files, Maloof mentioned that the key aspect of this office’s work was to confuse the Americans as to where the attack was to take place. It was taken for granted that they were preparing to repel any assault before it reached the actual water supply, as during the first attack in Los Angeles. “You see,” he pointed out politely, “the general feels certain the West Coast is considered by the Americans most vulnerable.” Lara said nothing, waiting for the captain to reveal as much as possible; but her palms started to moisten. She pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to stifle a sneeze as she wiped her hands.
“Excuse me,” she said, “it must be the air-conditioning. I’m not quite used to it yet.”
Maloof smiled obligingly. “Yes, it happens quite often to newcomers to Tehran. You are new to the big city, I understand.” She nodded and put the hanky away, leaning back to the files. It was clear she wasn’t about to start a nosy conversation. The captain got the hint and went back to the briefing.
“You see,” he continued, “one of our main jobs here is to mislead the enemy as much as possible. So, we have to offer them information leading them to believe the attack is coming from somewhere other than the true location.”
He saw the interest he had raised in his new colleague. “Please,” he said, “let me buy you a nice hot cup of coffee; it may alleviate your discomfort.” He pointed at his nose to eliminate any misunderstanding of his intent.
“That’s a good idea,” she said obligingly, rising from her chair. Lara was certain Maloof was going beyond his authority in disclosing this information to the newly arrived decoding expert, but she listened patiently without showing the mounting interest she felt. He was trying to gain favor with her, it seemed, and she was willing to go along, at least for a while.
He led her to a nearby room with American-style coffee and tea urns, paper cups, and the usual amenities. Early as it was, there was no one else in the room. He poured her a cup of coffee along with one for himself, then brought over some sugar and cream.
Sitting across from her at a small table, Maloof said, “The general and his staff know the Americans are assuming we will make an assault on San Francisco’s waterworks, that being the second-most-populated city on their coast. So, we’re giving them hints as to where specifically it will occur.”
Lara, with mounting apprehension, stiffened but said nothing. She was quite willing to hear anything he was willing to disclose.
He lowered his voice unnecessarily in the empty room. “In fact, we have fake assault teams already in place in an obvious location. It’s much the same as the Americans themselves did in their famous D-Day invasion of Normandy during World War II. You know to what I’m referring?”
“You mean the false landing at Calais, I presume.”
“Oh, you are up on your military history, I see. Of course, you must be, with your background.” He reddened, feeling clumsy. “Well, in this case,” he said, regaining his composure, “we’ve sent teams to the San Francisco Peninsula as bait to draw the Americans to that site.” He smiled conspiratorially as he groomed his moustache with his fingers.
Lara simply sat there, listening; her new assistant seemed right out of a movie from the 1930s. He appeared to be waiting for some sort of recognition, so she nodded for him to continue, knowing he was already way out-of-bounds in sharing this information. “You see,” he continued in a very low voice, “the attack will, in fact, be on the San Francisco supply, but it will occur far upstream, on the east side of their San Francisco Bay. It will be at the so-called Hetch Hetchy reservoir at the western edge of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The Americans will never suspect such a brazen move.”
Lara nodded in tacit approval. “Very clever, I must say. But won’t the Americans detect the poison before it reaches the city?”
“That’s the beauty of the plan. You see, there are several sources of the city’s water, this being just one. We are leaving them hints pointing at a more obvious location just south of the ci
ty. There are several reservoirs in the southern suburbs where maintenance workers have access to the water and piping.” He was obviously delighted with her undivided attention. After a few moments waiting for a response, he stood and politely said, “Well, you must have many things to do, getting started. Please let me know if you have anything you want to discuss. You have my phone number; my office is across the main hall, with the other officers.”
“Thank you so much, Captain,” she replied gracefully.
“Abdel, please. We will be working together so much.” His face colored slightly as he rose, pleased with this affable meeting. Lara smiled in return but did not offer to shake hands. He allowed her to return to her desk and then strode briskly away. This is going to be a fine relationship, he thought to himself, quite a pleasant turn of events.
Lara went quickly back to her desk eager to get on with the filing of the paperwork General Gharoub had left for her. Her mind, though, was reeling with what the shy captain had just disclosed. She filed it away in her mind. Then she used all her energies the rest of the day getting settled, totally absorbed in the necessities of organization. She would have plenty to tell Tom after she returned home later that afternoon.
The day went by quickly; there was a fast lunch, four more hours of intense work at her desk, then it was time to leave. She waited for her transport downtown along with about ten of the other privileged staff who did not have to take public transportation. These were nearly all male officers and senior female personnel, kept segregated from the others as much as possible. One man, however, also waiting curbside, stood out from the others. He was a major, Lara noted from his shoulder bars, standing rigidly in his finely tailored uniform and highly polished shoes. She could not help but notice how his muscular chest and shoulders strained at the seams of his jacket. He looked like an advertisement for a physical fitness program. She never noticed, as she turned away, how carefully he examined her as her ride appeared.
Chapter 15
General Gharoub was standing at his window, peering out on the huge complex, with the mountains looming in the background. This was such a marvelous country. And its greatness was just beginning to be realized by the rest of the world. How fortunate I am to be here to see this, to be a part of the marvelous events about to unfold, he thought as he took a large pull on his Cohiba Behike cigar. The best money can buy, he thought as he savored the strong, spicy tobacco. It tasted especially good realizing this Cuban delicacy was unavailable in the United States, at least legally. Life was indeed good and about to get better; much, much better.
There was a light tap on his door; he knew who it was. He had asked, or rather told, his second-in-command, Maj. Sarash Asani, to come see him this morning. In answer to a gruff bidding from Gharoub, Asani opened the door and strode eagerly into the room. He was a confident-appearing man of about forty, trim and muscular in his tailored uniform. He was regarded within the facility as quite the ladies’ man. The general gestured wordlessly for the major to take a seat as he himself put down his cigar and planted himself in his large, comfortable chair behind his gleaming desk. The two men studied each other for a moment before Gharoub began. While it was not unusual for Gharoub to ask his top aide to see him, this summons seemed somehow special. A smile crept across the general’s face as he leaned forward; he spoke quietly: “Sarash, my friend, I have had a thought about our plan.”
There was no doubt in the major’s mind about which plan was under discussion. It had to be the attack on the San Francisco water supply; that was the main effort under consideration. He leaned forward in his chair. This must be something new, some change in strategy.
“You know how much I prefer distraction and deception to a blunt attack,” Gharoub said, his thick, black eyebrows raised in delight.
“Yes, of course, General. It is the hallmark of all your operations.”
“That is why I have decided to throw another curve at the Americans. Tell me what you think of it.” There was a slight pause as the major pondered what his chief had in store.
“You know, of course, that we have guarded our main strike with a false attack at another site.” The major simply gestured with one hand to show his affirmative answer. “Well, I have thought it more prudent to have several points of attack with which to confuse our enemy.” He waited a few seconds for the major to process this idea before continuing.
“That, of course, is a prudent idea, but won’t it tax our forces to call so many more men into the fray?” The major always thought of practical matters; that was what Gharoub liked about him.
“Indeed, yes, you are, as usual, correct. One team at the outlet of the reservoir on the peninsula, and the other at the Hetch Hetchy plant. A singularly captivating name for a waterway, don’t you think?” Gharoub laughed, amused at the unusual name. Asani chuckled along with him. “Well, what if we were to generate reports that other locations were under attack? There are many places along the water supply routes that could be used. We could dilute the enemy’s response if they had to defend ten or more sites, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, of course, but how could we produce these distractions?’
“Good thinking, my friend! What I had in mind is to create minor interruptions in the water supply, just enough to require teams of the municipal water district, suitably clad in their distinctive gray overalls, to race in to inspect and repair any disturbances.”
“Yes, but what . . . ?” Asani appeared puzzled by the impact of such a move.
“With ten or more technicians in identical jackets at all these sites, it will take an hour or more for the authorities to find which, if any, are the saboteurs.” The major slowly caught on to the genius of this approach. How, especially at night, were the authorities to search and identify all these seemingly authentic workers, spread over tens of miles of waterway? By the time they had found the culprits, the poison would have been inserted and spread through the system. It was an ingenious addition to the scheme.
Chapter 16
The ride home was a little slow, but Lara was in good spirits. Dropping down from the mountains brought her into the afternoon smog, which was heavier than usual. The gulls and pigeons, unfazed by the polluted air, swooped noisily down into the streets and sidewalks, hungry for the tiniest morsel of food.
The noise and dirt of the city did not distract Lara, nor did it affect her attitude. Her first real day at work couldn’t have gone better, and she was eager to talk to Tom. She hoped he was already awake, though it was about five in the morning in New York.
Her hosts, Sara and Faezeh, were waiting at the front door as she came up the walk. They had looks of mixed eagerness and apprehension, like parents after the first day of school. But Lara was in too much of a hurry to chat; she made excuses about the grimy air and needing to freshen up, then headed to her room. She did, in fact, wash her face and clean her contacts as soon as she got upstairs. Then she sat down on the bed and called Tom. To her great relief, he was already awake and ready to hear from her. She quickly went into the details of her office and went right to her meeting with Maloof. She heard a gasp as she told him what Maloof had revealed about the San Francisco attack.
“That’s not what we’ve heard from other sources,” he told her. “I wonder if he’s really in on the true plan.”
“He works for the general and was assigned directly to me, so unless they suspect me . . .”
“That’s unlikely since you have access to all their communiqués, so we’ll have to give it credibility, at least for now. It is a major concern—”
“Oh, speaking of majors,” Lara interrupted. “I noticed a uniformed man today I haven’t seen before. He was wearing a major’s bars . . .”
“What did he look like?”
“Thirty-five to forty, looks like an Iranian movie star, sort of, or a bodybuilder. Broad shoulders, perfectly groomed, and straight as a ramrod.”
“Wow, that’s Sarash Asani, number-one assassin. Watch out for him! And h
e’s a notorious Lothario to boot. I wonder what he’s up to.”
“Sounds like you’re asking me to find out . . .” Lara’s interest was piqued.
“I’m serious, Lara, this man’s dangerous in many ways. Do what you can, but be on the alert. This guy has no scruples—none.”
“You make him sound like a monster,” Lara teased. There was no immediate response; Lara was a bit frightened. “I’ll be careful; you know I can handle myself.”
“What can I say? I know you’ve been in some tight spots before, but this guy is like a predatory animal. No joke.”
“All right, you’ve got me totally scared. Please, don’t tell you know who about this . . . unless it becomes necessary.”
“Your actions are secure with me, don’t worry—unless something goes wrong. Then I’ve got to get him involved. Your security is our number-one concern right now. So, like I said, stay alert, no chances taken, all right?”
“You’re the boss. I won’t try anything crazy.”
“Good luck, Daria. Keep in touch.”
And that was it. She was essentially free to head into the lion’s den.
* * *
Lara’s next day started out similar to the last. Wearing the standard clothing for the female workers in the office—a peasant-type blouse with a long, full gray skirt down almost to her shoe tops—she headed into her office with a brisk stride. Her darkened hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Her lightweight black tunic reached to her midthigh, and an orange head scarf fell around her neck. All that was showing was her face and hands. At least I didn’t have to wear a beekeeper outfit, she thought.
She went straight to her desk and finished the last of her organizing. Then she was free to tackle some of the real work: decoding the messages that had been intercepted from the Americans in the past few weeks. She immediately spotted a few of the transmissions that Homeland had sent as fodder for her to use to convince the Iranians of her skills. She translated these first: they were innocuous tabulations of the high-altitude overflights and reconnaissance satellite paths that were already known to the enemy. The accuracy of her work should cement her status as a most capable cryptographer. She finished these close to lunchtime, put them in her out-box for pickup by the courier, and prepared to head to the lunchroom.