by Jack Winnick
“So that’s why they came after me . . . but who tipped them off?”
“We haven’t completely figured that one out, but he correctly concluded that their so-called intercepted messages were fakes, meant to send the Iranians into a trap. So, he changed their strategy and set his plans again on Hetch Hetchy, which they know is going to allow pleasure boats for the first time ever, on July Fourth. They’ll set out a number of motorboats and sailboats onto the Hetch Hetchy reservoir, each with enough polonium to assure a major disaster when it reaches San Francisco in a few days—”
“And then?” Uri interrupted.
“Someone . . .” Wainscroft tipped his head to Lara. “An American agent apparently, got word of Uri’s exposure and set up a daring raid on his prison; they assassinated his guards and escaped . . .”
Uri couldn’t help grinning at his partner with admiration.
“So now, General Gharoub doesn’t know what to believe, or do.”
“And you got all this from the secretary . . . Mrs. Khorasani?”
“Right.” Wainscroft sat back in his chair and waited for the agents’ response.
Lara was apprehensive. “So how do we know what they’re going to do?”
“We don’t. But there’s only a finite number of possibilities. And with Hetch Hetchy opening up on July Fourth, that’s when we figure they’ll hit. And to give them some more to chew on, we’ve let word out that the Harry Tracy Water Treatment Plant on the peninsula is down for maintenance. So, they might just figure we’ll feel the Hetch Hetchy water is more secure”
The two agents looked at each other with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “Where exactly do we come in?” Uri said finally.
“You’re our number-one asset team on the ground. You know the operation, the language, and the operatives in charge. You’re our best at picking out what these guys are up to.” He stared at both for a few seconds, then in a controlled voice said to them, “Look, you’ve had a rough few weeks. We know that. But you can make the difference between a disaster and a victory for our side. I think you know I’m telling you the facts of the matter. But, in the end, it’s your decision. We have less than two weeks ’til the Fourth.”
Lara thought for just a few seconds. “What’s to stop them from hitting us somewhere else?”
“We thought of that, too. We have plans in the works for that . . . once this attack is made public. You know,” he said to Lara, “we were able to track all your movements, courtesy of that tiny GPS in your phone. So, we know the locations of all the facilities your amorous major took you to . . .”
Lara smiled at Uri as if to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all the details.”
“Our counterstrike will be quick, public, and devastating,” the general continued. “Our Arab friends, as well as our allies, will be delighted.”
Then the reality of the nearness of July Fourth hit them simultaneously. They stared at each other. They hadn’t thought about the timing before the general’s observation. But they knew they really had no choice.
Chapter 29
General Ali Gharoub, chief of military intelligence, and General Hossein Alirezeh, chief of military operations, faced an immediate and difficult quandary. They had assembled with their aides in the Castle to come up with a solution to the issue that had suddenly arisen: their whole organization had apparently been penetrated by spies sent by their archenemy, the United States.
The first break had come when a female Iranian double agent had reported to General Alirezeh that she had indisputable proof that one of his most valuable decoders, known to him as Heydar al-Nabi, was, in fact, the notorious Israeli-American spy Uri Levin. The double agent, known to the Americans only as Tala, had just recently been recruited into military operations. She had been working for the Americans as a hostess in Tehran; as such, she had proven her worth by exposing a valuable American spy with whom she had been friends. This American male agent, known to the both American and Iranian secret services as U37FGI, had been captured, tortured, and killed by the feared Iranian secret police, known worldwide as SAVAMA. Tala had taken over his code name and identity. She had learned through gaining the American agent’s confidence how to communicate with American headquarters. What a coup that had been!
Tala had also gained Uri’s confidence, and when she was sure of his treachery, she notified Alirezeh of Uri’s true identity. It did not take long for his office to recognize that signals supposedly captured by Uri near the northeastern border of the country were, in fact, fakes sent by the Americans. Of special note were the supposed “soft” locations of water-pumping stations on the San Francisco Peninsula. These would be, if the information were valid, prime targets for the coming water-poisoning operation. Fortunately, Uri had been quickly apprehended and imprisoned on the basis of Tala’s information.
General Gharoub was outraged by this breakdown in security at this level of his staff, the apex of military intelligence. He immediately had his team go back into the file of another new employee, Daria Haddad, and request dossiers from all of her supposed employers at Esfahan and other locations listed on her resume. The responses were not long in coming, especially when spurred by Gharoub’s personal seal. Within twelve hours, it was obvious that “Daria” also was a complete and utter fraud. Checking her identity further, it became clear that not only was she was an impostor who had wheedled her way into the highest ranks of Iranian military intelligence, but she was none other than the spouse of Uri Levin, whom they recently had in custody. It was she, of course, who schemed her way into releasing Levin from prison and escaping somewhere together.
Not since the treachery of Englishman Kim Philby and his cohorts in the 1950s and 1960s had an international spy scandal reached these heights, or so it seemed to the Iranian military command. They were certain to hear about it from their Russian colleagues, whose predecessors, the Soviets, had benefitted so greatly from Philby and his colleagues in the British nobility.
The newly elected Iranian president was, of course, furious when the information reached him. His rage reached a new peak when he then learned the American female double agent had been working directly in Gharoub’s employ. He ordered the two generals to formulate a plan to assassinate the American spies and reorganize the water-poisoning plan.
Gharoub and Alirezeh quickly realized that the messages “Heydar” had supposedly intercepted, revealing “poorly protected water-pumping locations,” were fraudulent, meant to mislead them. The Americans were attempting to lure them into a different strategy from the proposed strike on the peninsula to instead, the poisoning of the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. This alternative was made even more tempting by the news that this huge, open body of freshwater, the main source for the City of San Francisco and its environs, would be a prime target for Iranian operatives. The generals discussed this at length. It seemed the most reasonable target: several squads of agents sent into the poorly guarded reservoir just west of the famous Yosemite National Park could poison the water and never be discovered, let alone stopped. Even if they were captured, the polonium would already be irretrievably inserted into the lake, on its deadly mission.
It was only after a few minutes of self-congratulations that Gharoub recognized something that should have been immediately obvious to everyone: the spy Levin, upon escape, would let the Americans know that their offering of the peninsular pumping stations as “soft” targets had been revealed. The American leadership could not now presume that the Iranian attack would be made there; the attack would, instead, focus on the obvious alternative: Hetch Hetchy. This put a hitch in the Americans’ plans—a fatal one. Even if there were any uncertainty in the Iranians’ ultimate target, the American overall strategy was now critically flawed.
Alirezeh agreed with this reasoning in principle, but argued that a more prudent idea would be to hit one of the peninsular stations not specified by the Americans while also sending a few suicide squads as decoys into the Hetch Hetchy reservoir wit
h enough poison to cause severe damage and confusion. Most, if not all, of these volunteers would be caught and eliminated, but they would find eternal pleasure in Paradise as their reward.
This was the plan that the generals finally agreed upon and sent on to the president as a prelude to their meeting. The teams of saboteurs, already in training, would get their final orders and be on their way to northern California within days.
* * *
It was late that evening when the two generals were called into the president’s office. They stood as the president glared at them from his huge cushioned chair; it seemed more like a throne. They remained at attention, waiting for his reaction to the plan they had submitted. “At ease, gentlemen,” he finally proclaimed, a thin smile crossing his narrow, heavily lined face. It was the face of a man who had seen both military combat and the political battles that had led to the demise of so many of his colleagues.
“I have carefully read the plan you submitted. It is a good one, as far as it goes, but . . .” Gharoub and Alirezeh, who had both relaxed, stiffened, waiting for the rest of the news. “You have to consider my position. Both of you are responsible for the humiliating losses we have just suffered. We have not only taken these losses internally, within our own country, but in the Arab world as well. Two well-known American agents, working no doubt in concert with our Israeli enemy, have penetrated the highest ranks of our military and intelligence establishments.”
Seeing their mortification, he continued, “Do you not realize that we have seen communiqués from our colleagues, the Russians and the Syrians?” Before either of the generals could reply, the now-livid president roared, “Not only that: Even our enemies, the Arabs, have heard of our catastrophe! It seems practically everyone in the world has learned of the humiliation we have suffered. Not to mention we also lost two of the Americans’ most despicable secret agents from within our grasp, Uri Levin and his whore, Lara Edmond! We must alter our plans to make sure those two do not cause us any more disgrace than we have already suffered!”
Chapter 30
The president stalked around his grand office in the Castle, gnashing his teeth. In his short tenure at this level of government, he had never been so dishonored, and he took it very personally. How could he have trusted these men so explicitly? Ali Gharoub, that idiot general with his bleached teeth and dyed hair, who saw himself as a charmer! How could the military council have opted to elevate him to the rank of general? Especially in the crucial department of military intelligence? And his assistant, that goose Colonel Soroush, in his tailored uniform, so proud of his success with the ladies! What could they have been thinking? Well, he reminded himself, they would make themselves useful now . . .
Gharoub and Soroush entered the president’s office gingerly; they had no real idea what was in store, but they knew it wasn’t going to be any kind of honor. The debacle they had just permitted, the escape of two enemy agents, was the worst in the history of the young nation.
The president did not offer them chairs. This was going to be a dressing down; that much was certain. “All right, my friends,” he began in a clearly cynical tone. “We have just experienced a monumental humiliation; there is no doubt about that. I can hear our Arab enemies laughing at us, along with the Americans.” Both his victims colored visibly, but they knew something like this was coming from the volatile president. “The point is, now what is to be done?” He stared at them like they were insects under his microscope, waiting for the shellac.
“Well, I have for you a most critical assignment. One that, in one clean stroke, can reverse the tide of this battle. Here, briefly, is what I have in mind for you.” The president watched closely for their reactions as he continued, pausing first for effect.
“The attack on the Hetch Hetchy reservoir, which was initially to be the prime segment of our plan, will now be just a diversion, as the generals recommended. So we need to make certain the other operation, the assault on the peninsular plants, is carried out without fail. We cannot afford another debacle like the one we have just suffered. The two infiltrators, the spies Uri Levin and Lara Edmond must be eliminated.
In addition, we must adequately prepare the second part of the plan, the attack on the peninsular pumping plants.” The two officers looked at each other with what could only be called uncertainty: the plans had already been well set.
“We now,” the president continued, “have good reason to believe that the plans for the, uh, disruption of the plants on the peninsula may have been compromised . . .” This was not exactly true, but he did not want these men, as incompetent as they had been, to waste their effort—and lives—on a fool’s errand.
“Therefore,” he continued in a bold voice, “we will alter our attack a bit and focus our main effort on the most vulnerable of the peninsula stations: the Pilarcitos Dam and Reservoir.” His two officers twitched visibly at this major change in the strike plan. “The reason for this modification is twofold: First, we have reason to believe that this dam, and its pumping station, are considered to be, by the enemy, of lower value than the others. Second, and more important, is the fact that the Harry Tracy Water Treatment Plant that handles its water is not in working condition—our agents there have just lately informed us of the malfunction. So, with the other sources of water in jeopardy, the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission,” he said derisively, “will be forced to use the Pilarcitos water supply, despite its flaws.”
The president knew this was misleading, but he wanted these men to go into the fray fully believing their effort was crucial to the success of the plan and, just possibly, relieve them of some of the blame for the losses already suffered.
“What you will do is get the troops ready for the operation on the whole western flank of the peninsula . . . and use the most capable for a strike at the Pilarcitos station! The remainder of the team will attack the easternmost stations, those that are situated along the Crystal Springs and San Andreas reservoirs, as we had initially planned.”
General Gharoub and Colonel Soroush reacted visibly at the order. An alteration of that magnitude in their carefully worked-out attack was highly risky; but, then, the enemy least expected risky plans. The Americans would never expect an assault so bold.
“We will inform the troops of this change in plans and have them await your arrival . . .” The two officers turned and looked at each other, incredulous at what they had just heard. Was the president actually sending them into battle? They had thought that their days of armed combat were over.
After enough time for the two men to absorb this news, the president continued. “General Alirezeh will be maintained here to act as liaison. I know this revised plan comes as a shock, but consider this: the future of our very nation is at stake. Even if we don’t reach our ultimate goal, the enemy will be dealt a near-fatal blow; their leaders will lose all credibility among their citizens, and ours will gain mightily. Not only with our own people, but with all the oppressed people around the world! Think of all the billions, not only Muslims, but others who have been trampled by the Jew-run countries!”
The two officers were overwhelmed.
“And, my friends, who better to lead this daring effort than you two gentlemen, the finest military intelligence minds in the world!”
The general and his colonel reacted visibly to this compliment and this opportunity. They would be honored all over the Muslim world, by Arab and non-Arab alike. But if death were the consequence, nothing less than Paradise awaited them.
The president was gratified to see that his manipulation had worked. They were ready to take up the challenge. And if the assault failed . . . well, he had that figured out as well. He would inform the world that the horrific idea of poisoning America’s water was the brainchild of the two rogue officers and not his government. The liberal media would eat this up like the hungry dogs they were. As Julius Caesar famously declared, “The die is cast.”
Chapter 31
General Gharoub and Colo
nel Soroush met up in San Francisco at the rental car agency in the airport. They had flown in from New York via Paris. For the sake of security, they had taken separate flights from Tehran to Paris. It was in Paris-Charles de Gaulle Airport that they had laid out the detailed plan of attack. The CCTV would show the two men, now close-shaven and in business suits, apparently meeting for the first time in one of the airport bars. No notes were taken, and none were necessary. The four-hour layover in Paris was just enough time to structure the assault on the Pilarcitos Dam. They knew the troops in Oakland would have sufficient time to adjust to the change in strategy.
The would-be assassins had, in the past two months, found satisfactory housing in the newly formed and rapidly growing Shia community, situated along and around Telegraph Avenue near the overpass for State Route 24. The community welcomed the seemingly unconnected young men eagerly, especially when they proved financially able to live on their own in this foreign city. They appeared to go out every day looking for work, then would meet in a different location daily. Only one of the men would receive communication from Tehran, sharing it with the others. That was how they knew their new supervisors would be arriving, carrying their new orders.
Just the four team leaders met with Gharoub and Soroush in one of the Muslim community centers. There, they learned of the alteration in their plan of attack. They all marveled at the officers’ mustache-free visages; without prior knowledge of these men, they would have been unrecognizable.
The general had assigned Soroush to tell the team leaders of the change in the peninsular assaults. But the colonel was more a desk officer than a field man; he was uncomfortable giving direct orders to men who had already put their lives on the line. So, Soroush was somewhat nervous telling these fighting men their plans had changed at the last minute. There would be no practice; they would attack the dam itself on the night of July 4.