Element 94

by Kleiner Jeffries

  “It is the end, Aasim”.

  The MOAB-2, a second-generation version of the bomb affectionately known as the “Mother Of All Bombs” within military circles, officially stands for “Massive Ordinance Air Burst”, and is the most powerful conventional (non-nuclear) explosive in the United States arsenal. Unlike its Vietnam-era predecessor the daisy cutter - which gained notoriety in the Afghan conflict at the turn of the millenium - the latest version was a precision-guided, or “smart” bomb. After being released from its free-fall over the Udeen mountain range, the GPS-guidance system on the MOAB was activated. The weapon immediately honed towards the pre-programmed coordinates in her computer system, much like the Tomahawk missile had done just moments earlier. The accuracy of the GPS guidance system was pinpoint, and placed the weapon immediately above Udeen’s base of operations.

  When the MOAB reached its designated altitude, a fine mist of highly flammable liquid diffused into the surrounding atmosphere. Within seconds, a conventional explosive in the bomb’s core detonated, igniting the fuel that had just been dispersed. The resulting conflagration was unlike anything the observers in the air, on the ground, or in the Pentagon situation room had ever seen before. Indeed, some would argue it was beyond what the human mind could reasonably contemplate, much like the detonation of a nuclear weapon.

  The zone of destruction spread effortlessly and seemingly without bounds in a wide arc that would ultimately measure over 1000 meters in diameter. The enormity of the blast consumed the region in its entirety; there would be no survivors. Ra’ed Al Abbas and Sayf Udeen were exterminated from the face of the earth.

  “Holy mother of god” Stevie blurted out.

  The thunderous detonation of the MOAB echoed through the surrounding mountains and valleys. But it was the prominent sight of the plateau they had crossed, suffused with a radiant, unnatural glow, which held the operative’s attention as he spoke. In a flash, the intensity of the light from the weapon blared as hot as the desert sun, causing the party to pause and marvel at the otherworldly sight. One could only wonder on the utter devastation wrought to the valley below the blast.

  “Allahumma Anta s-Salaam. Wa Minka s-Salaam, wa Ilaika Yarji`u s-Salaam” Azeez began praying in Arabic, the words spoken seemingly automatically and without forethought as the man witnessed the overwhelming onslaught of the American weapon. Another Udeen terrorist in their custody stared wide-eyed at his American captors, and immediately began barking in a frantic Arabic.

  “Do not worry, my brother.” Abul reassured the man. “It was not nuclear. There will be no fallout”. The Udeen physicist knew the weapon they had just observed firsthand was conventional, but even his experience did not prepare him for what had transpired as he too looked at the American leader with wide eyes.

  A smile came to Mack’s face as he realized how easily it could be to mistake the MOAB from a small nuclear device. To someone like Abul, however, the distinction was obvious – a nuclear explosion took on a far different configuration, emitting a huge mushroom cloud several miles wide, along with a pressure wave that the MOAB could never match. Importantly, the rise in temperature was also nothing like that from even the smallest, most “tactical” weapon that could be designed to discharge the immense energies stored within the nucleus of atoms. Indeed, it was the lower temperatures and lack of penetrating vertical force, since the MOAB tends to direct its energies laterally, that the American tacticians were counting upon to avoid igniting secondarily the massive 94 bomb housed within the Udeen bunker inside the mountain fortress.

  “That is correct” Mack confirmed. No one in their company would be adversely affected by the MOAB’s radiant energy. The HEME-MOAB one-two combination had been strategically delivered, with a modicum of collateral damage.

  “Okay, let’s roll.” Mack ordered. The battle with Sayf Udeen was now effectively over. The American forces had prevailed, and it was time to make their way home.

  “Sir, the surveillance team has confirmed successful detonation”. A chorus of cheers erupted in the War room as Fitzpatrick, Groves, Kelly, Q, and other senior staffers applauded the end of Sayf Udeen.

  “Send in the recon team” Fitzpatrick ordered as the initial celebratory din died down. A unit would be brought in to search the demolished area, along with experts to uncover and secure what they could of the remaining fissile material and bombs Udeen had developed. It was not clear if anything would withstand the enormous blast intact, but they had to know for sure.

  As predicted, the MOAB had not itself triggered the Udeen bomb. The temperatures generated by the blast were far less than those required to fuse the secondaries within the nuclear device. As for the tremendous cache of element 94 housed within the mountainous fortress, there would be no way for the unsynchronized blast of the MOAB to propel the material into a cascade of a sustainable chain reaction. In fact, very little would be left of the weapon that had only hours earlier been under the control of a madman threatening to destroy the planet. But the terrifying natural resource of the area, a variant-plutonium ore, must be secured at all costs.

  “Well done, General” Q was the first to congratulate the military commander.

  “Thank you” Fitzpatrick responded, a genuine smile on his face. At the end of the day, they were all on the same team, despite their earlier disagreement.

  “Fitz, well done. Your men going in there now?” the President asked.

  “Yes sir. They’ll have the area sealed ASAP”

  “Good. Listen, I don’t care how you do it, but I want that stuff destroyed. Permanently. Understand?” Groves determined that no one should ever again be able to gain access to a weapon such as had been produced in the Udeen laboratories, including themselves. Such material could never serve a tactical purpose, and must be wiped off the face of the planet just like the organization that had stumbled upon it and attempted to utilize it to a most devious end.

  “Absolutely, Mr. President.” The General responded.

  “Bill, how did your team make out?” the President then turned to Kelly.

  “I’ll know soon enough, sir” Kelly answered, adding confidently “I should hear from them any minute now”

  “Good.”

  Without further ado, the principals prepared to make their way out of the situation room and back to their daily routine. As Kelly made for the exit, a voice stopped him in the doorway.

  “Bill, got a minute?” It was Q, who had just extricated himself from a conversation with another senior cabinet member. “Bill, I want you to know…”

  “Sam” Kelly interrupted as he placed a hand on the shoulder of his longtime friend. The NSA had opposed the move that ultimately dismantled Udeen, but there was no need to dredge up the past. “We’re still here – that’s all that matters.”

  “Thanks, Bill. Going back to Langely?”

  “Yes. I’ve got one last piece of unfinished business to take care of.” The NSA nodded understandingly. He knew just what Kelly was referring to.

  “Good luck”

  Chapter 16

  “Yes?” Leo inquired into the intercom. Someone had just buzzed his apartment, and the scientist was understandably jumpy. Kelly had ordered a full security detail for Koval and select others until the remnants of Sayf Udeen were rounded up. Specifically, Kelly wanted to nail down the man called Faarooq, who remained at large. This high-ranking individual surely knew of Leo’s involvement in upgrading the RDS network, which played a pivotal role in the downfall of the terrorist organization. The attention had the unfortunate side effect of further unsettling the former Columbia physicist’s already rattled nerves. For Leo knew that he was now a prime target.

  “Leo, its Leah. Ready to go?”

  “I’ll be right down”. Leo retrieved his jacket and headed down the stairway. He noticed his former post-doc was flanked by a cadre of fellow agents; they would form a three-car motorcade, with Leo safely protected in the center vehicle.

  “This is ridiculous” Leo blurted
when he took note of the extensive detail that was to escort him on the trip across town.

  “Bill isn’t taking any chances.”

  “I can see that. Alright, shall we?”

  Leah responded by nodding, and they both boarded the back of the bulletproof Cadillac DeVille.

  “Have you ever met President Groves?” Leo asked as they made their way towards Pennsylvania Avenue.

  “No. You’ll have to tell me what he’s like” Leo was due to receive the Presidential medal of freedom, the nation’s highest civilian award, for his integral contribution in defeating the forces of Sayf Udeen.

  “Absolutely. Why don’t I tell you over a glass of wine tonight?” Leo’s expression held a touch of sarcasm, yet one overlaid with warmth and sincerity.

  “Doctor – are you asking me out?” Leah appeared a bit surprised, probably since Leo had made no hint of his interest in her during their time at Columbia. Of course he was her boss then, and the impropriety of such a proposal would have been obvious. Now, although still colleagues, they were in totally separate divisions within the larger umbrella of the CT unit – a much more workable arrangement should a romantic relationship blossom.

  “I…I guess I am.”

  “Leo, I thought you were heading back to New York?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’ve been thinking - STAT might be a good home for me after all. Besides, the country needs me”. Leo spoke the last sentence with a sly grin on his face. Leah rolled her eyes in response.

  “You’re not going to let this thing go to your head, are you Leo?”

  “Of course not” Leo responded more seriously now. “They’re holding a position for me at Columbia. I’ve got to make a decision soon.”

  “Leo, for what its worth, I hope you stay.” A warm, sincere smile adorned the pretty operative’s face as she spoke.

  The car soon approached a checkpoint, and was beckoned onward, towards the front of the White House gates.

  “Okay Leo, we’re here.” Koval stepped out of the car, and was greeted by another security detail – undoubtedly the secret service.

  “Doctor, welcome. Just give us a minute here.” Leo was quickly checked for any weapons with a sophisticated sensing device, and then motioned to join the Presidential detail into the West wing.

  “You’re not coming?” Leo turned around and saw that Leah was still in the car.

  “No Leo, I’ve got something I have to take care of.”

  “What about tonight?”

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be back by then. Call me.”

  “Back from where?” Leo asked

  “I can’t say”

  “Leah, you know I have clearance now.”

  “I know my dear, I know. Congratulations again - talk to you later.”

  “Do you have any idea where he is now?“ Leah asked her boss. Faarooq was the last piece of the dark and dangerous Udeen puzzle that they had yet to complete. A core group of CTG operatives were now gathered, planning and preparing their assault.

  “Yes. Intel indicates he’s headed East. We’ll get him before he can leave the country.” Kelly was careful in how the answer was phrased – the time was still not right to divulge the secrets of Hermes to those assembled.

  Kelly planned to coordinate the strike from the Langely control room, where the microscopic chip would guide his agents directly to the terrorist’s location. The men in the field would inevitably assume satellite or some other visual asset was at play in tracking the target.

  “I believe we can intercept him in this vicinity” Kelly now pointed to a sector on the map. “I’ve got people already at these locations” Kelly indicated a circumferential series of arteries out of the city that would be blockaded. “You will each be deployed at one of these sights and flush him out. I’ll be patched in, and have the area surveyed from above to coordinate the operation. Leah…” Kelly was interrupted in midsentence as an agent barged into the room. It was C.J.

  “Bill, I expect to be a part of this!” the young operative exclaimed.

  “C.J., I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Kelly did not want the highly emotional and potentially combustible former hostage anywhere near Ali when they apprehended the man.

  “Bill, it’s not your brother he killed. I need to be out there!” C.J. pleaded. Kelly shook his head slowly as he approached his agent.

  “It is just not a good idea for you to be out there too soon. I’ll keep you informed…”

  “The shrinks at medical have me cleared to go, damnit! You can’t keep me out of this!”

  “We could use someone here” Leah indicated a position on the map. Kelly turned to look, surprised at the intrusion. They were all fully aware there was plenty of manpower already on the ground. It was a none-too-subtle gesture that indicated C.J. had support from his fellow team member in his stance to partake in the mission. Kelly paused to read the faces of the other operatives around the room before continuing on.

  “Fine.” The CT chief reluctantly caved in, “But I would like to retrieve Ali alive if at all possible; understand?” Kelly was looking at C.J. as he spoke.

  “Yes sir.”

  “I don’t think we’ll ever get him alive” Leah opined.

  “You might be right, Leah.” Kelly responded without hesitation. He had already assumed Ali would not go down quietly, and it was highly probable the man would choose death over captivity. Even with Hermes, their former colleague would be a formidable opponent. This was perhaps the most dangerous terrorist the world had ever known, and one that knew their tactics and had in fact trained many of those who would now be sent to apprehend him.

  “Do what you have to do…” Kelly now spoke to the group as a whole, glancing to make eye contact with all the agents at his disposal, “but just make sure of one goddamn thing. You do not let that bastard get away!”

  Faarooq pulled his car over to the side of the road and stopped to place a call. As he hung up the line, his face remained expressionless, betraying none of the tumult within as the news was relayed. The recently wired jaw limited the movements of his facial muscles, although an astute individual might perhaps have been able to read the stricken look in his eyes.

  The Americans had wiped out their base of operations and emerged victorious. No one survived the attack. There were scattered Udeen personnel still alive – those that had not been on site during the attack, but the organization was essentially eviscerated. It was unclear how the Americans had bypassed the Udeen bomb. Faarooq never would learn just how elegantly his adversaries had won the day.

  Without delay, Faarooq got back in his car and sped off. The vehicle was untraceable, obtained through one of the many contacts the terrorist maintained from his days as a top-level field agent. The Washington, DC area would now be a far too dangerous place to remain - he had to get away, and fast. The terrorist looked in the glove compartment, checked the identification, and glanced in the rearview mirror. A hand brushed over his face, adjusting the makeup he had applied earlier that morning to alter his appearance. The last remaining vestige of senior Udeen leadership was staring back at him in the reflective surface. All of the vast resources of the CIA and international security community would now be hunting him down. He had but one choice - to run and hide. But when it came to that, no one could pull it off better than the former undercover agent. Ali had learned his art well – he was a master of disguise, and no one, not even Bill Kelly, could track him down.

  The situation room at Langley had grown tense. Emotions were running particularly high, and not just because a major operation was unfolding. On this day, one of the great catches of counter-terrorism history was at stake – the target representing the current highest-ranking terrorist at large. Moreover, for the first time in the history of the CTG, the fugitive in question was a former operative himself and known personally to many of the individuals who would be playing a role in taking him down. The ele
ment 94 fiasco was over, but this most personal of affronts to those assembled had yet to be addressed.

  “Lucky” Ali Nadeem, a.k.a. “Faarooq”, was being tracked by mission control at Langely through the Hermes chip in the man’s gluteal muscle. The tracking device was incorporated into the routine “vaccination” shot he had received as part of the requisite medical clearance prior to embarking to Africa. At the time, Kelly had little more than a suspicion as to who the traitor amongst them was; but Ben’s analysis had ultimately proven pivotal. Ali had hunted Qaeda down with unusual fervor, which seemed counterintuitive to one of fundamentalist Islamic ideology until Kelly developed an appreciation for the internal strife between Udeen and the former leading terrorist organization. As it turned out, Ali had used the CIA as a vehicle to extinguish Udeen’s own rival from the planet. Kelly suddenly had a motive – and a reason to not take any chances. Ali was implanted without his knowledge, and the proverbial line in the sand that they had all feared would one day be crossed had indeed come to pass. But the gamble had worked; the whereabouts of the master of disguise, the CIA’s former top undercover man and one who could assimilate into any environment without raising the slightest ounce of suspicion was now being tracked to within a foot on a three-dimensional axis from satellites above. Ali was the one person with the skills, resources and contacts to evade the CIA, yet now he was wired with the tightest leash imaginable. And he did not even know it.

  Technicians tracked his whereabouts round-the-clock, and his location was pinpointed in real-time on the Washington DC grid displayed on the LCD panel in the front of the room. The Langley Hermes control center represented one of the most advanced operations hubs in the world, utilizing ultra-fast computing power for seamless integration of all assets, including visual and GPS, along with advanced communications systems for relaying the information to the operatives in the field. The set-up allowed Bill Kelly to orchestrate the assault on their former operative as if he were a puppet-master pulling the strings himself, able to see events as they unfolded and order his men to act accordingly.