by Isaac Stormm
Unfortunately, it means some people are going to be fired. That’s what’s been bothering me.”
“You never fired someone?”
“I was the one that always wrote down performance reports. Not the one doing the talking. Now that I have to tell someone face to face they’re not making the grade, it’s got me thinking about their feelings when I shouldn’t be.” Now the lie was told. He awaited her next words.
“The colonel with a conscience.”
“Hopefully.” He refused to dwell on his tale any longer. Thoughts turned toward the meeting in Grozner’s office in three hours, people’s reactions and words Grozner would say to Anderson. He suspected Grozner would pummel Anderson with stern language.
Just then it hit him like a shot between the eyes. My God. His eyes widened and he took the cup and hurried to their desktop computer in the bedroom. The answer to the salt. He knew the answer to the mystery. Now he needed to find it on the web and print it out, ready to present at the gathering.
He flicked the monitor on and sat down as the desktop booted. Anna brought him his plate.
“This. It’s something important. I have to find it,” he said taking a bite.
“Can’t it wait until you are at work?”
“No.” The cable modem’s activity beacons showed green and yellow as he hit the web browser. He typed ‘Cold War Arms tests’. It Googled the relevant pages and he chose the third finding on the list, which contained the words Project Gnome. “I know the answer,” he mumbled under his breath.
“I need to be alone for this,” he said, scrolling through pages.
“As you wish,” she said as if shooing away a fly. He took no offense at the dismissal and thought, if I don’t hear anything about it at the meeting, then I’ll present this. He double-clicked on Project Gnome and began scanning the information and reading the captions under the black and white photos. He ordered up a print job on three single-spaced pages, all about the little known Project Gnome’s goal and aftermath, which took place in the United States, in a small patch of desert 40 miles Southeast of Carlsbad, New Mexico.
Tel Aviv
Prime Minister’s Office
7:27 A.M.
Michael Philpot handed the brown manila envelope to Grozner. “The findings,” he said.
The moment had all the suspense of a spy novel with Grozner about to narrate. Philpot and Metzer stood there anticipating, yearning to be the first to pick up a hint of expression and know the result. The package wasn’t sealed and Grozner slipped fingers to clutch its content, a single page. He unfolded it, read over the few paragraphs and small chart showing the salts composition and any foreign additives detected. He didn’t blink once, just started reciting a single but short part of a sentence at the bottom.
‘…is consistent with exposure to high levels of radiation.’ He slapped the paper against his hand. “That’s it.” He handed it off to Philpot.
Foxmann just heard him as he walked through the door carrying a stapled parcel of pages. “And here is how they did it.” He handed them to Grozner who read the first page. “My God, how clever.”
“But quite simple, really.”
“Give it to us,” Philpot said.
“Allow me,” Grozner spoke first, finding the paragraph with the answer.
‘Successful demonstrations of non-combat uses for nuclear explosives include rock blasting, stimulation of tight gas, chemical element manufacture, unlocking some of the mysteries of the so-called "r-Process" of stellar nucleosynthesis and probing the composition of the Earth's deep crust, creating reflection seismology Vibroseis data which aids geologists and mining companies.’
“I thought about some of the articles online I’d once read about the U.S. nuclear tests when they still conducted them above ground,” Foxmann said. “Deep in those pages are the first attempts to go subterranean. They thought they had something like creating mines and moving great quantities of earth quickly. It was all about saving time, ultimately. That’s where a thing called Project Gnome comes in. May I continue, sir?”
“Please,” Grozner said, reading more of the document.
“Project Gnome was the start of a program call Poughshare, which involved the first tests of a nuclear explosive. Among the locations they chose to test was in salt and potash mines. Reason? If it’s deep enough, a salt mine contains the entire blast due to its unique chemical density. Kind of like a filter of some sort. Only nothing gets through. Especially airborne particles if it’s deep enough.”
“The people who tracked this salt…They were exposed to it?” Philpot inquired.
“After the blast. That’s how it happened. They took them back in to sanitize the place. It was probably a large complex with such things like multiple elevator shafts, and storage rooms. It was there that they were exposed to quantities of residual radiation embedded in the walls, though thanks to the salt, at a reduced concentration. Not the kind to kill them instantly that was still entombed around the blast site, but enough to cause long term sickness and eventual death, later on. Either way, unless they could get out of Iran, to some sort of aid station, they have no hope.”
“Could that be the group Cyrus saw executed?”
“It’s possible. They had no value to the Iranians anymore.”
Grozner held up the papers. “I want to tell everything you’ve just told me to Anderson. I’ll call him this afternoon. Nine a.m. his time which sounds about right. We’ll work on what we’ll say to the U.N.” He set the papers down. “Good work, Colonel. You just helped our cause go much further than it would have otherwise.”
Tehran
Naviran, Supreme Leaders Residence
1:22 P.M.
Dressed in an all-black hat and ceremonial uniform, fringed on the shoulders with golden rank epaulets, Zarin’s nerves tingled with excitement, the calm reserve of his will the only thing keeping him from becoming as giddy as a schoolboy at the thought his hand would embrace not only the president’s, but the Ayatollah’s. He had always considered himself a field officer, someone who they called on to do the unpleasant things, never bothering to appreciate him. Now they did, his spirit started soaring the moment the gates opened. Surely, they wouldn’t put this show on only to condemn him to death?
An aide opened the door. “The Ayatollah and the president are outside in the back of the residence. Please come with me, sir.”
Zarin got out and pressed the creases away on his pants before entering the hallway. He could hear their tightness rubbing his skin as the two walked in rhythm down the long corridor before turning a corner where two glass-paned doors opened out onto a patio. There at a circular table under a white umbrella he saw the two. Beyond that were trimmed rows of beautiful white lilies of which name he couldn’t remember. Their petals reflected the sunlight with a shine as bright as a pool of diamonds. He stopped in the doorway, letting the aide do the announcing and both men turned to look. The aid gestured him to come over, and he walked to their front where he could address them. He straightened up like a pole and saluted. Both returned it, and the aid departed.
“Please be seated, my friend.” Rustani motioned to the chair between he and Omera. Zarin removed his hat and slipped into the plush seat, its cushion somewhat cooled by the umbrella’s shade.
“It is my honor to be in your prescence, Excellency, I am ready to do the nation’s will as you see fit.”
“I understand the Jews visited us. Can you confirm this?”
“Going by the information one of the dying bandits gave me, which was accurate. I have no reason to think otherwise. Except there is something else I must show you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of four photographs, showing small bits of twisted and charred metal, offering two each to Omer and Rustani.
“Pieces of their helicopter?” Omera asked.
“I’m afraid not. The photographs you have there are of pieces of burnt metal belonging to the missile which downed our helicopters. We have determined it
came from an American Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missile, better known as an AMRAAM. Not only does the U.S. use it, but several client states including the Israelis, do. What is most troubling is that our radar stations picked up nothing, meaning a weakness has been found in our defenses, one the Zionists knew how to exploit it to the point that the aircraft that fired it flew within thirty miles, the maximum standoff range, or I dare say closer, without any responses on our part.”
“What of their helicopter? Was there any tracking it?” Rustani asked.
“No, neither inbound nor outbound. But this may have a more plausible answer. The helicopter flew what is called nap of the earth, probably dove and weaved throughout the mountainous valleys using them as cover from radar waves. If a pilot is good enough, he wouldn’t need to have a machine that was stealthy.”
“Or maybe they did have a stealthy machine. Maybe it and the aircraft that fired this missile were the latest machines able to exploit our defenses.”
“Plausible, Excellency, but I’m afraid impossible to confirm.” He took back the photographs and slid them into his pocket. “What it does do is show us we have a major vulnerability in my sector. And it’s one that is easily fixed.” Now came time to venture his suggestion. For a moment he forgot he was the lowly Major and that no one of his rank ever offered up changes for anything. He needed to forget that if he had any chance of being taken seriously. “If I may speak freely, Excellency.”
Rustani nodded.
“Though I cannot speak for the Army, I am intimately familiar with my sector and I know by putting some of our latest surface-to-air missiles, the Russian S-400, we can overlap their detection ranges throughout my area. It would only need to be five batteries, six at most. Nothing that would leave us vulnerable anywhere.”
“Very observant,” Rustani said. “I’ll speak to the necessary departments of your request. If they feel it is viable, I’ll order it done as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Excellency. I have no further suggestions.” Meaning he dared not push anything else that came across his mind.
“Now on to the business at hand. You have been summoned here for two reasons. The first is that you will give a detailed account in person to the Supreme Council about the encounter with the Israelis and your encounters with the guerrillas. They are very much eager to hear your stories.” The Ayatollah seemed to stretch just a little in his robe. He stroked his beard, smiling. “The reason I called you here with me though, is to personally thank you. You are the one who suggested the site to test our new weapon, something that came to my desk and I approved. Given its apparent success at not being detected, and you carrying out the proper disposal of our Kurdish labor involved, I want to bestow upon you the rank of colonel. Your name will be remembered in the days and years to come whenever we speak of our achievement.”
“Excellency,” he said, pushing the words out with humility. “I-I do not deserve the honor. I am merely doing what my country asks.”
“Come, come now. You will accept on behalf of this grateful nation.”
He didn’t think it could become any more difficult to contain his pounding heart. “I am forever in your debt, Excellency.” The sky seemed much bluer and the earth greener as happiness overtook his insides. Fear of reckoning with his life vanished. Rustani was the most gracious of men he’d ever met. And he would never again look at him any other way.
“The second reason you are here is to explain the recent success your drones have achieved. We have invested in such weapons in Lebanon. You will be given complete control.”
Tel Aviv
2:16 P.M.
Depth Corps Office
“While the prime minister is speaking to the president, I thought you might like some more information on your girl.” Philpot set the paper before Foxmann who scanned it and kind of jerked his head at the finding.
The U.N. gal was interrogated and chirped like a canary. There were plenty of sympathizers like her all throughout the Middle East. Not News. News was that some believed that insurgency needed to take place now in the Palestinian territories. Using their U.N. credentials as cover, they would smuggle weapons and infiltrate fighters into Israel.
“Looks like we got the potential for a big scandal,” Foxmann said. “I’m curious as to how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
“She insists only a few local U.N. liasons want to act like her. The top echelons are completely ignorant.”
Foxmann rolled the paper into the shape of a thin tube. “This could be very embarrassing to the organization if it hits the press. But seeing as we’re going to be on our knees before the Security Council shortly, we could hold it and use it if things don’t look good for us.”
“Playing favorites is always what they’ve done though. They’d downplay the thing as a Jewish concoction.”
The intercom buzzed; it was Grozner. “Come to my office immediately.”
“On the way.” Foxmann flicked off the intercom.
“Wonder how it went,” Philpot asked.
“A surprise maybe?” Foxmann replied, closing the door behind them.
“Another thing I want to tell, you didn’t get the data on the drone we shot down, did you?”
“What’s up?”
“What was left of it was a work of art, sophistication.” The elevator beeped and lurched up a little more than a second’s journey then the door opened. “Anyway, it appears it was a recreational drone. One of those X-shaped devices with the little propellers at the end of each arm. The difference was it had a shaped charge in the nose. We wouldn’t have found it out if our missiles had made a direct hit.” They reached Grozner’s office. Inside they found him standing, arms folded, speaking with Metzer.
“Anderson believes us when we say we’re certain they exploded a bomb. He says he’ll stand by us at the U.N.” He dipped his head toward the floor. “However, he says our case will be weak. And he tells me the Iranians have just today offered concessions to prove their innocence.” He shook his head again, almost like he was in a state of denial at the message he was delivering.” The Iranians have offered to reduce the inspection notices from 24 days to just one hour. With a goal of allowing as many inspectors as necessary at their sites. The U.S. is going to probably sign on it.
The nuclear deal allowed an unacceptable 24 days notice and only Iranian inspectors could be used. Earlier the so-called surprise inspection was nonexistent. Everything that smelled like a rotten deal was just overlooked and the Americans signed on. What he knew and some in Washington knew, was that it would go down as one of the most gullible acts ever displayed and was done for political, not common sense, reasons. Anderson wanted to make sure he was out of office before everything imploded. Now it had, but he still grasped for light at the end of the tunnel. Crazy, and yet, true.
“The Iranians have something up their sleeve,” Foxmann quipped. “They are using the agreement as a means to an end for something. Possibly to see how much stalling they can get away with.”
“I know. They even offered to let inspectors see the suspected detonation site but reneged just before they filed a protest against us,” Grozner said.
“And of course they knew they’d never have to answer that one.” Foxmann folded his arms in disgust. “Anderson knows they’re playing him. Why he is so farsighted? Maybe he has eternal optimism in the wrong way. That has to be it.”
“I take it the odds of them not joining us in a strike just went up exponentially.” Philpot rubbed his eyes with a hand like trying to rub away sleep.
Grozner nodded. “From this point forward, I will continue to press that we want the Americans to be with us, but either way we will view the forthcoming operations whatever they may be, as strictly independent from the rest of the world.” He looked over at Philpot. “Did you tell him about the drone?”
“Yes.”
“I have a feeling this is the start of something major on the part of Hezbollah. They’re testing the waters with drones to s
ee how well our air defense system protects. Therefore, my greatest fear is that they will develop the ability to use swarms of them which will overwhelm us.”
“I might be behind on some of the latest hardware they’ve got. Do you think they have that ability?” Foxmann was curious.
“Intelligence says no,” Philpot said. “But given how intel miserably failed with the Iranians, I’m going to assume they’re already well on their way to achieving it. We may have to launch some raids into Lebanon for some prisoner snatches. That will be the only way we can piece together any plans they have.”
“I’ll lead it,” Foxmann asserted.
“I would like to do it the same time we strike Iran. We can find out the names of the ones running the program. The reason I want to go during our attack is that it would provide good cover,” Grozner said. “Your people on it, Philpot?”
“As we speak. Our agents are already asking questions to some people who have some connections. I’m hopeful we can get results fairly soon.”
“I pray you do that. Once we attack Iran, Hezbollah will begin striking back. I don’t want a blind side that they’ll exploit.”
“I’ll put in word stressing a preferred time frame to get information. With that I can say I’m confident we’ll have some names in a few days.”
“That’s good,” Grozner said. “Now, gentlemen if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to call our U.N. ambassador and start coming up with the most convincing language this country’s ever produced before the world body.”
Foxmann led them out, waited, and started to shut the door. Grozner’s hand grabbed it. “Jessy, I want you to join your boys in the Negev. Start rehearsing for the mission to Iran. In three days’ time, you’ll go to the staging area if things don’t look up for us. I’ll come out and see and you can give me a full debrief on your strike plan before you leave. I’m sorry, given how you’re kept from Anna, but if she knew everything going on, she’d understand.”
“I know. Thank you for your concern.”