by Isaac Stormm
“I can make no guarantees, sir. But I can go back to the president and tell him I met a true statesman just now. One who still has hope.” He extended his hand. Grozner shook it. “I will end the meeting and relay your proposal to the president.”
Grozner didn’t relate any more enthusiasm and felt Murphy might be a bit premature in his congratulating words. Nothing had really changed but he was willing to give it a last shot. So history might be kind to him. His proposal certainly took Murphy by surprise and he expected the president to call him later and offer a pleasant conversation. There he would come down hard again, telling him there was just a 72-hour window for action to be taken. The ball was in Iran’s court. If they remained obstinate as he planned, hostilities would begin within 72 hours.
The two men walked back out to the conference room. The Iranians were already seated and talking amongst themselves. Lesnar was behind the laptop typing a message. When Grozner sat down, he didn’t bother looking over. Just asked “How was it?”
“I gave them 72 hours to allow inspectors onto the site. I know I never discussed it with anyone else, but I’m giving a way for the Americans to become joined at the hip with us again.”
“An overture?”
“You could say that. My guess is our friends across the aisle will not bow to the pressure. But if they do, I’ll take the next steps on an hour by hour basis. You don’t know this, but this has been hell on me. Much more than I ever thought it would be. It’s getting to where I can’t sleep at night. I’ve only had about four hours in the last two days.”
“Then you must get rest. I’ll recommend a sedative for you when you’re on the way back.”
“No medicines. My weariness will kick in, I think. I’m surprised it hasn’t already.” His eyelids closed for a few seconds then opened again. “Don’t worry, I’m not nodding off, just thinking.”
“The prime minister and I had a good conversation.” Murphy was talking directly to the Iranians. “The vial will be tested. we will have the results in a few hours. I now tell my colleagues that there is also something that is now on the table. Iran must give inspectors access to the site within seventy-two hours. If they don’t, I will have no choice but to urge a vote on a resolution of force.”
“What do you think the chances actually are of getting a vote?” Lesnar whispered.
“I hope reasonable now. I just bent over backward for Murphy. Once Anderson gets wind of my submission, that should be enough to force a vote. Not that it’s going to do any good.” Russia or China or both might exercise veto power. That’s what the real outcome was likely to be. The two countries had too much invested in Iran.
“Gentlemen, do you have any questions you’d like to ask either of the parties? No? Then that concludes this meeting.”
“One,” the Russian ambassador replied. “We will also take into consideration with equal measure, the complaint lodged by Iran. I would request that if a vote is to occur that the result of their inquiry be read at the same time. Are we in agreement?”
All the ambassadors nodded. “Good day, gentlemen,” he said.
Everyone rose amid the subtle grind of sliding chairs. Grozner and Lesnar turned to each other. “You plan on sticking around?” Lesnar asked.
He wanted to be there at the reading. But he felt when it didn’t go their way it would be quite a propaganda coup if the Iranians could show his face over and over again on television as a defeated man. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction, though. He needed to be back in Tel Aviv at the desk when he gave the order to attack.
“I’ll be departing this evening. Let’s have dinner at the Embassy. I very much would like to stop at Ground Zero for a minute or so as well.”
“Security would be a nightmare. I’ll have to phone it in now so they’ll be ready.”
“We’ll just take a few people along for protection. I don’t want the place cleared out.”
“That might be too much of a risk. If you’re recognized.”
“I’ll just have to say hello to them, then. I want to go down exactly as I said.”
“It’ll be taken care of.”
Grozner knew well the risks of going out in public with just a few guards. He figured it would be worse with possible protests if people got wind beforehand that he was coming. And they always did whenever a head of state visited the place. That’s why he wanted to do it informally.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He shut it down until he made the walk to the limousine. Once inside, he took it out and saw a text message from Philpot. It read: ‘A drone has hit a guard tower on the Lebanese border. 2 soldiers killed. Appears to be same make as one downed with Iron Dome. Intel believes Hezbollah probing for weakness.’
“Damn it,” he said aloud. The country was vulnerable to these weapons. How many did they have? He suspected the prowess at which they stockpiled munitions meant probably dozens if not hundreds. And my God, if they could use them in swarms.
He typed some numbers in and called Foxmann. “I’ve given a slight reprieve on action if they can inspect the site,” he said. “It sounds crazy I know. But I gave them that much. How soon can you send in a team to Lebanon? This drone business is going to blow up in our faces if we don’t get some answers of where they’re coming from.”
“Already got a team looking for it.”
“Keep me posted.”
The limousine made its way down Times Square and he took in the vibrance of the different sorts of humanity the city was known for. Just then he caught a glance from someone. Their eyes locked and the person he was looking at was one of those Middle Eastern, curly-headed, bushy beard types. He kept his gaze on him as the limousine passed and the man disappeared into a crowd. An omen. No. Just two people who could read each other due to the centuries of conflict in their native lands.
Chapter Fourteen
May 21
4:07 A.M.
The Iranian C-130 flight took it from Tehran across the only sizable part of Iraq that showed any stability, namely, the nonexistent Kurdistan. From there, it changed course slightly, dipping south into Iraq’s barren Western Desert, skirting Al Anbar Province, then lining up on Damascus coordinates and coming down just outside at the most heavily guarded airbase in the country. The Syrian Army formed several perimeters of security because it was here that Bashir Al-Assad’s private plane resided in a concrete reinforced hangar. In the hundreds, hand-picked Special Forces resided on the base, ready to rush at a moment’s notice to provide a quick response, should the leader’s tenuous hold on the country collapse.
Zarin had occasionally glanced out the small rectangular window in the cargo hold where the only upright seat was located. The rest were removed, and crates of varying sizes secured in their place. These would be offloaded onto trucks to follow different routes into Lebanon. Some for dispersal in houses in the Bekaa Valley, others into subterranean tunnels beneath and around Beiruit as near to and even underneath civilian structures such as hospitals and schools.
He was in charge of it all now, and relished joining his Hezbollah hosts in a new combat zone to oversee the expansion of the drone attacks on Israel. He stored many ideas he wanted to try and with the encouraging report of the tower attack, planned on implementing them the moment he arrived, and only he knew that some of the cargo around him had certain ‘ingredients’ to be used only with direct order from the Ayatollah.
After they landed at Homs airbase, thought turned to what high level Hezbollah representative he would meet. This would be the man who stayed by his side ready to implement his orders. He waited and watched the cargo being offloaded into two tractor trailers. Once finished, he motioned to them and went to his personal vehicle, a Land Roverwith Lebanese tags.
The weight made the trucks heel back on their springs, straining under the mass. Slowly, with Zarin’s Jeep at the head, and spacing about three seconds behind each other, the little convoy started off maintaining a speed of about 30 miles per hour. Their headlight
s bounced off the hills and rises in the rugged land winding their way through a mostly uninhabited part of Lebanon. Once they reached a narrow fork in the road about an hour in, one of the vehicles veered to the right for the trek southward toward the Hezbollah Regional Headquarters located approximately 40 miles from the Israeli border. After that, Zarin only had 20 minutes more drive before they rose onto a large plateau, where the bright pinpoint twinkling of the great city of Beirut lay off in a distant corner to their right.
Zarin fixated on the city as it grew with each minute. A few more turns put them on a two-lane highway for an entryway right through the city’s midsection, past rebuilt or newly constructed buildings sprung up since the end of the civil war. Back in the ‘80s, the suburbs they passed through would have been hotly contested between Hezbollah, Druze, and Christian Phalange militias. Thousands of fighters and even more civilians died for the city that was reported on nightly news programs in the west almost every night. Since then, a shaky peace allowed it to revitalize itself and the ruined structures made way for the return of life, or so everyone who came back hoped.
The Land Rover made a turn next to a copse of tall apartment buildings leaving the tractor trailer, and proceeded down another two-lane. The air smelled fresh like the dawn of summer and streets became a bright orange illuminated by the hundreds of light posts reflecting off the roads and buildings. It made another turn beside a white multistory complex and entered a garage which went subterranean, becoming a parking area for a dozen or so vehicles. The lights were dull and Zarin saw someone standing beside a doorway where the Land Rover rolled to a stop.
The man’s arm reached to open the door. “An esteemed pleasure, Colonel Zarin. Welcome to Beirut, although I have to question the time they sent you here.”
“No choice in the matter,” Zarin replied. “The Hebrews probably know I’m already here. But Tehran still insists any high priority cargo or figures arrive in the dead of night.”
“Of course. This way please.” He opened the door and they walked down a short hall through another door and into the main foyer, a gray granite floor under dull lighting with an empty receptionist desk in the middle. They passed to enter one of the two elevators behind it. “There is just me and regular security here tonight. The Hebrews often get wind of when we have extra guards so we must stay one step ahead.” The elevator lurched upward causing a low whine of the pulleys taking it past the first floor.
Zarin turned to him. “You mean the Israelis know about this place?” he asked, incredulous at the notion.
“Oh, yes.” The man seemed to brush it off. “The civilians around here knew about it first of course and it eventually found its way to Tel Aviv.”
“Are you not worried about this place getting hit?”
“This location is easily replaced. We’ve made sure our command and control is well dispersed throughout the city, so that one or even several targets destroyed will enable us to continue the fight. Our leader rarely visits. Besides we’re in the middle of a heavily populated area with a school across the street and a hospital in back.”
“Do the bosses live in the city?”
“You might say that. One is upstairs. That is where I am taking you.”
Zarin got the sense he was withholding something he wanted to surprise him with.
The door opened into a hallway with four doors on either side. They stopped at the second on the left. A quick knock and it was opened by a short heavyset man dressed in a brown robe with a white turban. A long and well-trimmed silver beard stretched to his sternum. “Colonel, please come in.” He closed the door and offered his hand, “I am Imam Fawzi Itaya, Commander of Hezbollah in Lebanon.”
Zarin shook his hand and nodded. “It is a pleasure, sir, at long last. I’ve read your essay on the 2006 Israeli invasion. Your ambush tactics against the Jewish tanks was fabulous.”
“Allah smiled upon us. And he certainly has for you. You are the symbol of our new strength.” He stopped at the end of the word. “That will be all, thank you.”
The escort bowed slowly and left them.
The door closed and Itaya continued, “Come, I have some tea prepared for us. Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you.”
Itaya motioned his finger at a blue suede couch behind a small coffee table, where two cups and a smoking teapot sat. Zarin slipped onto the couch while Itaya sat in a simple wooden rocking chair.
“Excuse me sitting in this flimsy contraption, it’s for my back,” he said. “Courtesy of a car bomb the Jews tried to get me with a few years back.” He picked up one of the cups and offered it. “Drink?”
Zarin took it and brought the rim up to his lips. It’s hotness almost scalded him and he slowly let the tea slither past his tongue down his throat. It made him feel warm all over and he enjoyed the second swallow as Itaya picked up his cup and took a healthy swig.
“Now, with regard to our current situation and what the future holds.” Itaya lowered the cup. “We have almost doubled the amount of rockets we had during our last clash in 2006. What’s more, the new drones we are modifying number in the hundreds, and grow each week. As you are well aware, we have already tested some of our first prototypes.” He stopped for a second and sipped again. “I believe this fundamentally changes the game. The drones we have are simple, easy to replenish and can be made autonomous, or presently as we prefer, command guided from a location. They are simple off-the-shelf vehicles that we modify by putting in a camera and stronger motors. They are maneuverable and can reach speeds of up to sixty miles per hour with a small warhead.”
“If they’re command guided, they’re vulnerable to hacking or jamming.”
“Yes. But we are taking precautions against that. By using frequency hopping transmissions, the same as in our communications. With this method, we could have swarms of vehicles each commanded by a different person or all commanded by one person. Whichever we prefer.”
“These prototypes, are they just test beds or do they employ what you have just told me?”
“Ah,” he raised his finger as if in triumph. “The destruction of the border surveillance tower used the frequency hopping. The others shot down were simply testing for gaps in the Iron Dome. If we found any, they were to proceed over the border and seek out targets of opportunity. Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful…For now.”
“Suffice it to say, we may be in action sooner than we thought.” Zarin set his cup back down. “Diplomatic games are being played at the U.N. Tehran is concerned that the Israelis are going to mount an attack in the next few days. That is why I am pleased to say that today’s drone shipment is the first of many that will come. At the rate of two plane loads a day for the next five days. Certainly the Israelis will get wind of it, that’s why I expect them to try and hit the trucks when they enter Lebanon with airstrikes. Given that there are so few usable roads entering from Syria, their likelihood of destroying some may affect our operations, therefore I have been given the authority to employ different methods, to see of their viability.” He took another sip, less warm this time, then took another.
“I understand. We will provide security for these new methods.”
“What we’re going to use is as old as time itself…Burros.”
Itaya blinked his eyes and jerked his head, surprised.
“The Syrian government can provide several hundred of the animals. We pack them with the necessary equipment, send off a few dozen at a time and have them arrive almost continuously for several days. They’ll be able to use the narrow trails through the mountains, many more than the Israelis can keep up with.”
“May I recommend my men as handlers? They will need no armed escort for they will be the ones armed.”
“Most certainly.”
“Colonel, tomorrow I will have you taken to the south to one of our drone operation centers. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality.”
Zarin nodded. “Right now, I would like to get some rest,” he said with ha
lf a smile.
“Sunrise is just an hour away. Feel free to sleep as long as you like. You will not be disturbed.”
“Thank you, my friend.” He downed the last of the tea and reached across to shake hands. The two men walked to the door where Itaya summoned the aid standing outside. Zarin walked with him to the end of the hall to the right where his room awaited. He paid no attention to its furnishings. Just went for the bedroom, scooting his luggage out of the way. He switched the light on and slipped onto the bed. He didn’t bother turning the covers down and just tightened the pillow up under his head, raising it a little. He exhaled and drifted off. There were no dreams, just the rhythmic breathing of a body that embraced rest.
Raindrops streaked against the smooth windows on the jet. Fountains of water sprayed behind it as the engines ran up to maximum and the navigation lights played a tune of blinks and flashes as it lifted off into a steep climb.
Inside, Grozner felt gravity pulling him into the seat. Nothing major but a clear definition of their angle which lasted for about a minute, then gravity released him as the plane began a shallow right turn, putting them on the first of many waypoints to take them across the Atlantic, then the Mediterranean.
He felt better. Replaying the words from Murphy soothed him more than he expected. The U.S. was still in the game. A whole new vista of possibilities lay ahead.
Who was he kidding, he thought. He looked at his watch. In a little over 72 hours, he would take the nation to war. It will hit the U.S. unprepared. The words from Murphy might have been misread, as clear as they seemed. Politicians had evolving moments on matters. Anderson was showing himself to be one of the worst. How would he evolve once he received word that Israeli warplanes were hitting Iran? Revert back to passivity, pull himself out of the fire before it even flared underneath him? Or God forbid, stand by and let the U.N. issue a condemnation against them? That’s what rid the soothing replacing it with an unsettling cramp. Damn it. Got to quit letting my mind wander. Hell, what else am I supposed to do? All in all, it was a fair meeting. What if the Iranians give in? That, he wanted to debate with the Knessett before he went home. The signal of an emergency session was sent just prior to leaving. Everybody in the governing body was to be present. Even the loudmouths who opposed his every move would get a chance to ask him. He wanted to make sure everything was laid upon the table.