by L. Todd Wood
“Thank you for meeting me here,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”
“No, thank you for all of your help. All three of us are very grateful to your country for our well-being. We are very happy and feel safe for the first time in a while.”
She smiled. “I am glad you all are happy, but that is what I want to speak to you about. I know you have been through a lot and need some time to decompress, which we will give you. However, we feel we are about to face a great crisis. There is a great deal of chatter being picked up by our intelligence collection efforts. We need to be especially vigilant right now. I have been authorized to ask if you would join us. We need people who are not obviously Jewish working for us. We need to be able to open doors that a native Israeli may not be able to open. We will train you. We will provide the resources. The offer extends to all three of you, but I wanted to speak to you alone first, so maybe you could speak to the others for me. Will you consider?”
Connor stared into her deep blue eyes as he walked and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he gazed around and enjoyed the scenery. Reshma walked beside him. She is so beautiful. Finally he spoke, “Yes, I will consider. Give me some time to discuss with my friends and to think.”
“Of course. Israel has to be able to survive on its own. I think you can see that we can count on no one. The winds of change can blow in a new government for your country at any time. We are alone and need all the help we can get.”
“Well we are in your debt. I am sure the three of us will take that into consideration.” Connor was silent again for a few moments then he stopped, turned to Reshma, and spoke again.
He looked into her eyes. “You know, if I wasn’t with Natasha…”
“You don’t have to say anything, I understand. I know you love her.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you for your understanding.”
“In another life I guess,” she said longingly.
“Yes, in another life.”
Historically armor has been a key factor in any desert conventional conflict. Until the early twentieth century, horse-mounted cavalry provided this capability. The mounted soldier en masse created a shock value on the battlefield unmatched by infantry. When combined with mobility, the cavalry provided the commander a way to concentrate a hardened force on a target and retreat and redeploy if necessary. However, mechanized warfare eventually made the horse-mounted soldier irrelevant by the Second World War.
The concept of a powerful, mobile, concentrated force was still very attractive to a commander, especially in a desert environment. Mechanized warfare brought the tank to the battlefield to perform this role. The tank played a vital part in the Arab-Israeli wars in the twentieth century. To control the land, an army needed mobility and firepower. The tank was critical to all of the armies in the Middle East.
Therefore, when the tanks began to leave their garrisons en masse in Egypt and the other surrounding Arab nations, Israel noticed. This was one of the primary early warning signals of a pending military operation. The equipment had to be serviced and deployed in order to be used in a conflict. There were a myriad of clues to a tank force being readied for battle. Fuel, battery, and other maintenance requirements needed to be deployed as well. The support train for these vehicles was enormous.
The movement of fuel supplies was the first thing Israeli intelligence noticed. This was followed by maintenance trucks being uploaded and stockpiled near the tank bases in Egypt, Syria, and Jordan.
There was also unusual activity noticed at air bases throughout the region. This activity spanned the Middle East all the way to Iran. Aircraft that were in storage were being readied for flight. Maintenance activity increased for these weapon systems as well. Activity on the flight lines picked up dramatically. Aircraft were being checked out and flown to ensure operability. A sophisticated aircraft historically has been a “use it or lose it” asset. If the aircraft sat for a while, things started to break. It took flight time to keep the wheels greased and the turbines humming.
Typically wars in the Middle East were conflicts of technology and attrition. The technology was frequently supplied by the Americans and the Soviet Union to their proxies in the Levant. The Russians supplied sophisticated anti-aircraft weapon systems to the Arab nations as well as anti-tank weaponry. These capabilities proved highly effective against Israeli forces until they were resupplied multiple times by the Americans during several conflicts in the twentieth century.
The early warning signs of force deployment worried the Israeli Defense Force greatly. It was obvious something was happening, but they did not have good intelligence as to what. However, they did prepare and mobilize reserves and increase the state of readiness of the IDF.
The alarm within the Jewish State increased to frantic levels when a radiation detector in the port of Jaffa gave off an alarm. The Americans had provided Israel these devices early in the twenty-first century as a tool in the War on Terror. Immediately, hundreds of specially trained agents from Shin Bet, the Israeli internal security service, descended on the port.
The sultan finished praying and stood in his office. He called his assistant outside and informed him he did not want to be disturbed at all—that meant not at all. “Do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” was the only response.
He sat at his desk quietly. He wanted to savor the moment, for in a few minutes, he would give the order, the order to destroy the Jewish State. He laughed at how ignorant and naïve the world was. There had been an open discussion for decades within the Arab community about destroying Israel. The gullible Western media wanted so much to believe that it was all untrue. They wanted very much to believe that the dialogue was just saber rattling so the Arabs could have an edge in negotiations with Israel. Or could it be that they supported the objective? Possibly. But more likely they are just appeasers. Willing to say or do anything to avoid upsetting their sensibilities and having to actually think about confronting an adversary. It doesn’t fit their narrative. Whatever the reason was, he used it to his advantage. Now it was too late. The time of reckoning had come. Israel would be destroyed, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. They ignored the warnings. God is great!
The sultan reached for his phone and dialed a number he had memorized long ago. He had dreamed of this moment his whole life. This was his calling and his destiny. The phone rang.
“Yes?” the voice answered.
“This is your caliph. I expect my commands to be obeyed immediately. Set the time for forty-eight hours from now.”
“Yes, Your Highness. We will act as you wish. Your commands will be obeyed.”
The sultan hung up the phone.
The Shin Bet radiation teams fanned out across the Port of Jaffa, searching for the source of the radiation. They searched every ship and container and soon found the epicenter of the radiation emissions.
A container on a ship from Turkey made the detection equipment scream. A special group of emergency personnel was then brought into the situation. They opened the container and found the backpack device hidden inside a crate of designer, handmade furniture made in Costa Rica. The shipment was addressed to an interior design shop in Tel Aviv that catered to wealthy Israelis.
Slowly the team opened the package, dressed in their gear to reduce radiation exposure. They found a small nuclear device. Upon notification of their find to their command center, the state security apparatus of Israel went berserk. The armed forces were raised to the highest level of alert. Residents were told to expect all-out war and prepare their shelters, retrieve their survival equipment, and get ready for the worst outcome imaginable.
Sergei had failed. He knew that. His superiors would not be pleased. In fact, he knew he would be punished. He would be given an offer he couldn’t refuse. He would be sleeping with the fishes. He had to find the girl and kill her and her friends.
He had followed their convoy down to Salvador from a safe distance. The small transmi
tter he had placed under the bumper of the unknown vehicle upon arrival at the house in Bahia had worked nicely. He could track the car without giving away his presence. He blended into the crowd at the demonstration on the docks in Salvador and discovered the registration of the vessel on which they boarded. He found out the ship was registered in Israel, although that usually meant nothing. Ships were registered wherever it was most convenient for the owner. A request for satellite coverage of the boat upon its departure was granted in Moscow. They tracked the ship to the port of Jaffa in the Jewish State. Sergei notified Russian intelligence contacts in Israel, who met the freighter at the docks and followed the passengers off the ship. They informed Moscow that the precious cargo was now under Israeli protection.
That was okay with Sergei. At least he knew where they were. Now they could be watched. There were plenty of Russians inside the Jewish State who were working for the Russian government. Sooner or later the girl and her friends would make a mistake. Then he would be waiting. Sergei booked a flight for Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.
Peter, Natasha, and Connor sat at a bar overlooking the sea in Jaffa. It was a rare treat for them to get out of the house, and their protection was everywhere. All they had to do was look around for the guys in the sport coats talking into their lapels.
“It looks like we jumped from the frying pan into the fire,” said Peter.
“Yeah, I guess we did.” Connor lifted the gas mask he was wearing on his belt for effect. Peter rolled his eyes.
“What is this world coming to? You don’t know where you are safe. It seems the wolves are circling the hen house.”
“So I have a question for you, my friend. Do you think any of this heightened alert mess has anything to do with the sultan? We know he’s not a friend of Israel.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing myself,” responded Peter.
“Well, I think I have a way we can fight back.”
“What’s that?” asked Natasha. Her mood had not improved very much in the last few weeks. She was depressed as to the direction her life was taking.
“I’ve been approached by the Mossad,” said Connor.
“Again, for what?” she asked.
“To work for them.”
“Oh, that’s just great. That’s all we need.” Natasha turned and looked out over the water, obviously annoyed.
“Think about it,” continued Connor. “We can exist in places where many Israeli agents can’t. We can add value here, to use an investment term. They are asking for our help. I think the least we can do is think about it seriously.”
“I’ve got enough worries here just for myself. I don’t need to be worrying about you as well 24/7,” replied Natasha.
“Actually, the invitation is not just for myself. It’s for both of you as well.” They both looked at him incredulously.
“We can help,” repeated Connor.
Nuclear weapons cannot be accidentally detonated by an unfortunate bang or hard impact. The nuclear material inside the bomb has to reach a critical mass in order to explode. This is typically done in two ways. The first way devised was to inject an amount of material into the core in order to raise the reaction to an uncontrollable level. Usually this smaller piece was fired into the core using an explosive device. The more advance method was to force the nuclear material into itself by a ring of explosions around the ball of fissionable material. This forced the reaction to be uncontrollable when the material was condensed by the explosion. There was not a risk of a nuclear explosion by dismantling a bomb, but there was a risk of a conventional one. The end result to the humans handling the device would be the same either way.
The technicians carefully took apart the bomb while the port was evacuated. They rendered the device useless. However, where there was one backpack nuclear weapon, there was another. The radiation teams fanned out across the country to search for other threats, starting with the most important area of the country, Jerusalem.
Connor sat in the waiting room of the cancer ward at Sourasky Medical Center in Tel Aviv. Although he was confident he no longer had cancer, it was stressful waiting for confirmation of that fact. He realized he had been biting his fingernails and forced himself to stop. Calm down, sport.
The waiting room was full of people, some with hair, some without. He truly felt compassion for these people, the roughest part lay ahead for most of them. Some would not make it, he realized sadly. Connor’s hair had fully returned. He felt strong, he had an energy about him. I am alive! The wait for the invitation to see the doctor was frustrating. He thumbed through several old magazines, but it did not seem to help. I just want to know.
“Mr. Murray, the doctor would like to see you now,” informed the nurse from behind the counter. “Please come this way.” Connor stood and followed her through the double doors to the cancer ward and down the hall into the doctor’s office.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Murray.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Connor responded as he sat in the chair across from the physician’s desk. He noticed all the pictures of sick children pinned to his bulletin board with smiles on their faces. It was a habit Connor had picked up years ago in the financial business to size up his adversary in a meeting. If you could notice what was important to him by seeing what he displayed in his office, you had an edge. But the doctor was not an adversary; he was a messenger from God himself. I don’t know how the children deal with this disease. It was rough enough on me. The saddest thing is to see a sick child.
The doctor was looking through his chart and flipped through several pages before speaking. It was the longest minute Connor had ever faced. Finally the doctor raised his head and looked Connor in the eye. “You are clean. You are cancer-free. Providing we don’t have a bomb go off in our beautiful city, you will live a long life. Congratulations.”
Epilogue
The sultan sat at his desk in deep thought. The time was close at hand to realize his dreams. The seconds were ticking away. He wanted to savor these moments, the time before victory that only he knew was nigh. The sultan tried to understand how it felt to know that thousands of soldiers were coming across the walls of Jerusalem to kill everyone in the city. How brave the Muslim warriors must have been. And how proud! To die in the service of Allah! One cannot imagine a greater death. He could hear all of the voices from the past, the voices that cried out for revenge, the voices that cried out for the caliphate to be restored, for Muslim domination to be restored. I hear you, voices of the prophets! I will avenge you. The moment is here. The time has come!
The one thing he could count on was the short memory of the American people. Most of them were like sheep and would do and think what they were told. He smiled, finishing the task in Israel would not be difficult at all; he was much smarter than they were. They would be rendered impotent in a few short hours then the invading Arab armies would finish off what was left. In time, he would complete what he started in America as well. It would not be hard to change the debate from the video that Murray and Quinn put out to the press to one of environmental extremism, a call to stop the evil hydraulic fracturing. In fact, that was already happening to a large extent. It was just a matter of time. The money would keep flowing to his people. The Americans could also be persuaded that Israel deserved her fate. Most American Jews had abandoned her long ago anyway. The media would help in that regard.
Of course he would have to be devious in how he managed all of these situations, but all would be finished at the correct moment. Murray and his friends, even if they did escape for a while, couldn’t run forever, the sultan’s resources were too vast. Yes, he thought, all will be finished in due time.
His phone rang, shattering his concentration. “Yes?”
“We have information Murray and his friends are in Israel,” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
He smiled. “Thank you.” He hung up the phone and laughed. Even better. Now I know where they are. I will take care of several birds
with one stone. God is allowing me to complete my quest. Everything is falling into place.
There was a knock on the door to his office, and his assistant motioned to him, announcing the scheduled event. The hour had arrived. He had to face his people. It was something he detested but did so out of necessity ever so infrequently.
He checked his face in the mirror in his office bathroom and then made his way down the corridor to the room where the press waited.
How he hated these stupid games, such a waste of his time. One day he would only do appearances on his own terms. There would be no questions.
He could hear the complicit reporters murmuring in the room past the door as he approached. His assistant checked him over one last time, and the sultan stepped to the podium and smiled in front of the cameras.
The band played “Hail to the Chief.” The sultan began to speak. “My fellow Americans...”
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About the Author
Todd is a graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy. He has been an aeronautical engineer and an Air Force helicopter pilot. In the Air Force, he flew for the 20th Special Operations Squadron, which started Desert Storm. He was also active in classified counterterrorism missions globally supporting SEAL Team 6 and Delta Force. For eighteen years, he was an international bond trader with expertise in Emerging Markets. He has conducted business in over forty countries. Todd has a keen understanding of politics and international finance. He has been published in the Armed Forces Journal. He lives on a 300+ year-old farm in Connecticut deeded from King George of England with his children.