by Oliver North
Samir's thoughts were distracted by the dream. Dreams are so strange, he thought. In our dreams we never question how it is that someone can fly.
His father continued his narrative. “But then, just as the evil ones are being vanquished, Amos Skillings has a choice—he can flee or confront the leader of the evil ones. He chooses confrontation—even though he knows it will mean his death. The evil one is slain, but the fire he has started is now raging. To save the innocent, Amos Skillings throws himself into the fire—and is consumed by it. ”
Samir shivered in the early morning mist and didn't realize that it was a reflex of hearing what his father described. He licked his lips and sat down in a nearby chair as Eli Yusef continued.
“But Peter's friend seems to be dead only momentarily, ” Eli Yusef said. “After he is killed and lies lifeless for a brief time, he gets up— restored to life. And looking around, I see that all of Peter's enemies are gone, and he stands alone with his men. And then, Amos Skillings stands alone but surrounded by legions of people who want to thank him for his valor in the battle and for saving their lives. But he seems not to notice these people. Instead, he flies into the sky again—only this time he flies up and up, until we can no longer see him. And then I woke up. ”
“What do you suppose it means, Father? ” Samir asked.
The old man smiled and shrugged. “Sometimes a dream is just a dream, ” he said.
“And yet, sometimes God speaks to you through such dreams. Has God spoken to you about this dream? ”
“Not yet, my son, ” Eli Yusef replied. “If there is a message, He will tell me. ”
Samir said nothing, but then he asked, “Did this ‘evil one’ in your dream have a face, Father? ”
The old man thought for a moment and then said, “Yes, my son, it was the same man that our friend Peter Newman confronted many years ago, over on the Syrian border. He was a Russian, I believe. I can still see his face. ”
“He has a name too, Father, ” said Samir. “Dimitri Komulakov. Perhaps I should call our friend William Goode. ”
“This is the word that God gave me, ” Eli Yusef said, flipping the pages in his well-worn Bible. He read:
All who rage against you will surely be ashamed and disgraced; those who oppose you will be as nothing and perish. Though you search for your enemies, you will not find them. Those who wage war against you will be as nothing at all. For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, “Do not fear; I will help you. ”
“Has God given you any specific message besides what this Scripture passage says? ” Samir asked his father.
The older man shook his head. “I cannot think of any. If it is important, God will speak. It will be good if I listen for His voice. But I think it would be wise for you to call our fellow believer, William Goode, as you suggest. Meanwhile, I shall pray for our friends, Peter and Amos, and ask God to protect them. ”
Venezuelan Air Force Hangar 3
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Simon Bolivar International Airport
Caracas, Venezuela
Saturday, 10 November 2007
0700 Hours Local
“Have you made our reservations for a flight out of this tropical hell, Viktor? ” asked Komulakov, turning toward the Spetznatz officer. The “retired” KGB general and Majors Argozvek and Sakharovsky were standing inside the office adjacent to hangar 3, watching through the glass partition as a pirated Saudi Lear jet with its “new” registry designator—TI-PQG, appropriated from a Costa Rican charter jet—was pushed from the hangar into the gray, early light of dawn.
“Yes, General, ” replied Sakharovsky. “As you directed, you are booked on the 0600 flight to Paris tomorrow morning as Vladimir Zhivkov. I am going to Cape Town, South Africa, via Sã o Paulo, and Major Argozvek has booked himself on the morning flight to Rio de Janiero. ”
“Well done, ” said Komulakov to Sakharovsky. Then, turning to the taller GRU major, he asked, “Which two of those eight aircraft out there do not have warheads in them, Gregor Argozvek? ”
“That one—that's being pushed out right now, ” replied Argozvek, pointing at the plane visible through the glass, “and the other Lear. But the pilots say they would be very happy to fly their airplanes into buildings in Miami and Atlanta. ”
Komulakov shook his head in disgust and asked, “Is everything else in order? ”
“Yes, General. As soon as that aircraft is fueled, ” Argozvek said, “we will have completed all of our tasks. Dr. Zhdanov is now packing up all of his equipment. He will be flying out at 0200 to Buenos Aires. ”
“Where is the old fool going from there? ” asked Komulakov.
“I do not know, sir, but he has given me the number for a bank account in Luxemburg in which he asks that you make his final payment. ”
“Humph, ” Komulakov grunted. “Before I can pay anyone else, the Iranians must make their final deposit. Where is Manucher Rashimani? I must talk to him about that. Before these eight aircraft take off, the Iranians are supposed to make a wire transfer into a numbered account in Switzerland. What time is the first one of these suicide flights scheduled to depart? ”
Argozvek withdrew two sheets of paper from his pocket and said, “Rashimani is briefing the ‘martyr pilots’ on their routes and targets in the International Air Express 737 that you arrived on. It's out there on the apron, among the MiGs. ” Then, handing his employer one of two sheets of paper and consulting the other, he said, “This is the list you asked me to prepare. According to Rashimani, the first plane to leave is the Airbus 319 with the Panamanian registry HP-5691JMC. It departs at 0030 tonight, headed for Los Angeles. The second one to go is a Gulfstream, with Cayman Islands registry VPC-LG. It leaves here at 0100 in the morning and its target is Chicago. The third one is a Gulfstream— ”
“That is enough, Gregor Argozvek, ” commanded the general. “I have the list. I couldn't care less what time the rest of these suicidal fanatics are taking off or over what American city they plan to immolate themselves. The only thing that matters is what time the first one is scheduled to depart. You say twelve-thirty tonight. Before then, Ali Yunesi must make a deposit. ”
“Or what? ” said Argozvek, looking directly at his superior. “What if they do not pay? How are we going to stop them or force the Iranians to pay? ”
Komulakov was not used to having his orders or judgment questioned—particularly by a relatively junior officer. Normally he would have exploded in rage—or worse, acted on it—when confronted with such impertinence. Instead, his face twisted into a cruel smile and he said, “If I do not have notice that payment has been received before the first aircraft takes off, Ali Yunesi in Tehran will be informed by Manucher Rashimani, or that other goon who came with me from Cuba, Assad Bashayan, that the American Embassy in Caracas will have this list within the hour. Then his ‘martyrs’ will find out what the Iraqi Air Force learned too late about how good American pilots are at shooting—how do they say it?— ‘fish in a barrel.’”
National Military Command Center
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The Pentagon, Arlington, VA
Saturday, 10 November 2007
0900 Hours Local
“Happy Marine Corps Birthday, Pete, ” said Gen. George Grisham over the secure phone link.
“Thanks, General, and the same to you, ” Newman replied. “I'd forgotten that the Corps is 232 years old today—but today I feel every one of them. ”
“I have no doubt that you're tired, Pete, ” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied, “but I do have a nice birthday present for you. ”
“What's that, sir? ” said Newman, standing at the folding table in his office/command post, looking into the now nearly empty warehouse that had been such a beehive of activity for so many days.
“I just saved 15 percent on my car insurance, ” Grisham said, trying to ease the tension. Then he continued. “The President
just approved the use of as many Tomahawk TLAM-Cs as you want tonight. The only restrictions are that you may target only military personnel or installations and must try to avoid hitting those nuclear warheads, to avoid spreading radioactive waste. I've just sent the alert order to both the Dallas and the Virginia. ”
Newman smiled for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, then asked, “You said ‘only military targets,’ but can we still take out the airport electrical grid? We'll do a lot better tonight with the NVGs if we're the only ones who can see in the dark. ”
“Roger that, ” said Grisham.
“Great, ” said Newman. “I'll send in the coordinates of twenty preplanned targets and we'll only use the ones we need. The barracks and the electrical transformers will be targets 1 and 2. They will have to be hit first—and simultaneously. We'll use that as the signal to kick off the attack. Since I can't communicate directly with the subs, how do you want me to call for the Tomahawks? ”
“Use your D-DACT as primary, secure Sat-Com voice as backup. We'll have both of them constantly monitored here until we get the word that you have everyone safely out to the subs, ” Grisham replied.
“Did anyone come up with what we're supposed to do with these nukes if we find them on the aircraft? ” asked Newman. “I really only have four guys with me who know anything about how to disarm a Soviet-era 152mm nuclear artillery round—Dan Hart, two of the SEALs, and Sergeant Major Skillings. They have briefed everyone else on how to do it, but I don't want to hang my hat on their crash course on nuclear weapons assembly and disassembly. ”
Grisham didn't reply immediately but then said, “The Navy isn't happy about this answer, but the specialists here and at Los Alamos we consulted agreed that the best thing you can do is to bring them with you to the beach where the SEAL teams will have ‘experts’ who will disable them and bring 'em out to the subs. We all agree that you can't leave them behind. ”
Newman shrugged and said, “Roger that. ”
“You have anymore questions, Pete? ” asked Grisham.
“No sir, everything else here is just about ready, ” Newman replied. “This place is just about empty except for the teams going with Skillings and me in the Suburbans. The weapons and ordnance for forty ‘shooters’ got delivered to the Avianca hangar about an hour ago, and thirteen of our guys are already there. If all goes as planned from here on out, this whole thing will go down at 2300 tonight—and by midnight we'll be on our way to the subs. ”
“Well done, Pete, ” said Grisham. Then he added, “Hold on a second. Bill Goode is here with a message to pass on from a mutual friend. ”
“Pete, I just heard from Samir Habib, ” said the CIA Ops Deputy. “He said his father had discerned—that was the word he used—that Dimitri Komulakov is somewhere near you. Were you able to see who got off that flight last night from Cuba? ”
“No, sir, ” Newman replied, “we didn't want to get caught by any of the Valdez goons looking for curfew violators. ”
“Well, the timing of this call from Samir is very interesting, ” said Goode. “Last night the mobile Sig-Int site in Norway that has been monitoring the Murmansk satellite hub said that the channel they thought was Komulakov's has gone cold. ”
“I'm not sure what to make of that, Bill, ” replied Newman. “But you know even better than I how very often Eli Yusef has been right. He has a very special gift. ”
“Yes, he does, Pete, ” replied the old CIA operative. “Just thought I'd pass it along. So be careful, ” said Goode, making the decision not to tell Newman that Eli Yusef had also “discerned” that Amos Skillings would be killed.
USS Dallas, SSN 700
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67° 08' W 11° 40' N, Approx 409nm N of Maiquetia, Venezuela
Saturday, 10 November 2007
2251 Hours Local
“Bring up the search 'scope one last time, ” said Capt. Ross Conner, moving from the plotting table to the starboard search periscope. He held the 'scope up only long enough to have it “sniff” for electronic emissions and then dropped it again.
“Nothing but the radars at the airport and the directional beacon from our SEAL team on the beach, ” said O'Malley, the XO.
“Roger that, ” said Conner. “We've got a good fix on our position? ”
“Right where we're supposed to be, ” said the navigator.
“Man, we're a lot closer to the beach than I'd like to be for launching a Tomahawk, ” said Conner, looking at the electronic display above the chart table. On it were displayed twenty triangles, numbered one through twenty—all of them targets that Brig. Gen. Peter Newman had sent to the NMCC five hours ago from his D-DACT.
“We didn't have much choice, Skipper, ” said the XO. “It was either shoot from close in or make our SEAL team have to ‘hump it’ thirty miles to the beach. ”
Conner nodded and said, “Target 1 programmed into the TLAM-C in tube number one? ”
“Roger, ” replied the weapons officer, double-checking his data.
Conner glanced up at the digital clock, slaved to the Naval Observatory in Washington, and said, “Prepare to launch Tomahawk from tube number one. ”
Five seconds later at precisely 2256 local, he said, “Fire one, ” and there was a now familiar rush of compressed air as an eighteen-foot-long, 3,200-pound Tomahawk missile was ejected from the number one torpedo tube. The smooth cylinder, containing more than 1,500 parts, sped straight out for fifty meters, suddenly turned up toward the surface, and shot out of the water. As it broke the surface of the Caribbean, the missile jettisoned its protective capsule, two wings flipped out, and a solid-fuel rocket booster ignited with a bright flare that lit up the surface of the sea. The Tomahawk's inner guidance controls sent the missile into the air in a high arc, and then—when the solid-fuel was spent—a turbofan engine leveled the missile in the air, pushing it at 550 miles per hour over the surface of the water toward Target 1—the Venezuelan Air Force barracks building at Simon Bolivar Airport, forty-two miles inland.
Seconds later, four miles to the west, an identical missile was launched from the USS Virginia, aimed at Newman's Target 2—the Simon Bolivar Airport electrical distribution grid. Both missiles leveled off, just feet above the water, practically invisible on radar as they sped toward the destinations programmed into their GPS memories. Both missiles climbed slightly as they crossed the white sand beach and then, less than a mile out, dived neatly into their targets. The Tomahawk launched from the USS Dallas, still nearly full of fuel, struck the barracks building just above the second floor of the four-story structure. Three seconds later, the one fired by the USS Virginia flew at full speed through the large, twelve-foot-square, top-left skylight of the Electrical Distribution Facility. The two buildings were blown apart by the explosions. As the lights went out throughout the airport, fire engulfed both buildings.
Venezuelan Air Force Annex
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Simon Bolivar International Airport
Caracas, Venezuela
Saturday, 10 November 2007
2300 Hours Local
As the lights went out and the horrendous roar of the two, near-simultaneous Tomahawk explosions echoed across the airport, a blue Venezuelan Air Force bus pulled up in front of hangar 3. Men wearing NVGs, Kevlar helmets, and body armor poured out of the bus from every exit, assembled immediately into teams of five, and fanned out, racing for the eight commercial jets parked amidst the MiGs and other military aircraft.
Seconds later, when terrified men raced out of the darkened hangar 3, they were immediately cut down by fire from a 240-G machine gun, positioned to the south of the structure. From his OP atop a building five hundred yards down the road, Master Chief Manuel Suazo, peering through the night scope mounted atop his Barrett .50 cal. sniper rifle, began dropping anyone who made a move toward the search teams headed for the aircraft flight line. Two of the first to die were Russian majors Gregor Argo
zvek and Viktor Sakharovsky when they ran out of the hangar.
One minute and ten seconds after the two cruise missiles impacted, Newman's “Mobile Command Group, ” mounted in five Suburbans, pulled up the perimeter road to a spot fifty meters short of the back gate behind hangar 3. A Delta Force commando jumped out of the lead vehicle, deployed an AT-4 anti-tank weapon, fired it, and blew away the metal gate. Leaving two Suburbans as a security element, Newman raced through the open portal with the other three vehicles to pick up any warheads found by the forty troopers searching the civil aircraft on the tarmac.
Sgt. Maj. Amos Skillings, driving Newman's Suburban, pulled up parallel with the front of the hangar. The large aircraft portal was still closed, but from inside the building they could hear the sounds of a pitched battle. Suddenly, Sergeant First Class Nievos came reeling out the front personnel door of the large hangar, dragging another wounded commando, his own MP5 hanging limply from his right hand. Newman turned to Skillings and said, “I'll be right back, ” and jumped out of the vehicle.
Skillings, seeing his commander running toward the wounded troopers, turned to the men in the backseat and yelled, “Go with him! Cover him! Tell Briggs, driving that Suburban behind me, to pull up and pick up the wounded! ”
As the five men piled out of the side and rear doors of the vehicle to follow Newman, Skillings flipped his NVGs back down and caught a glimpse of a heavyset man running toward a Boeing 737, parked about fifty meters away—on the side of the apron that had not yet been covered by one of the five-man search teams.
He tried calling on the handheld radio beside him, but the radio net was jammed with teams talking to one another. As he watched, the heavyset man reached the portable stairs beside the 737, looked around furtively, and scurried up the flight of steps.
Spotting two other soldiers dragging one of their wounded comrades toward the Suburban, Skillings shouted out, “Take the wounded to the vehicle behind this one! The general is over there. ” Then pointing toward the 737 off to the right, he shouted, “Tell General Newman I'm going to grab a team and check out that aircraft over there.… ”