by L. Todd Wood
Prime Minister Dahan had no doubt this was the Sultan’s goal from the start, all the while slamming Israel for preventing peace by not accepting the return to the 1967 borders which would ensure her demise. The Iranian nuclear ‘deal’ was never about preventing Iran from obtaining nuclear weapons. The agreement’s only purpose was to enable Iran to obtain such a nuclear capability while at the same time providing the resources for Iran to almost completely defend itself against Israeli attack.
The Prime Minister had been provided an update on Iranian troop movements, as well as Hezbollah and Syria, strengthened from Assad’s victory in the civil war, with Russia’s help of course. He was provided updated information on the ongoing process Iran was following to encircle its nuclear facilities with the Russian air defense umbrella.
He had to admit, the S-400 was good. It was scary good. It could track and attack well over one hundred targets at once at low to high altitudes. The range of the system was over 400 kilometers. It could defend Iran against high-speed, low flying, Israeli aircraft, as well as her ground and sea-launched ballistic missiles. It wasn’t perfect but it was good enough. I have to make a decision.
The prime minister stared out across the Golan, remembering all of the other Jewish leaders since before the Egyptians who had faced the destruction of his people. After a few minutes of deep, silent thought, he picked up his phone and called an emergency meeting of his cabinet. Decision made.
President Chahine walked down the hall to the podium for the news conference. How I hate doing these, he thought to himself as he smiled confidently to his aides lining the hallway, offering him last minute tidbits of advice. His strategy was working perfectly, in spite of the delays and small setbacks Mr. Murray and his friends had caused him over the last year. Soon, this formality will not be necessary. All I need is to fool the majority of the American people a little while longer.
The Sultan smiled in front of the cameras and began to speak. “My fellow Americans, as you know my administration has worked tirelessly to bring peace to the Middle East. We have made some progress, as with our Iranian nuclear deal. However, there has been one obstacle to peace that we cannot overcome. That obstacle being the State of Israel. Israel continues to illegally occupy the territories of the West Bank and Gaza, and continues to prevent peace from thriving in the region. Today, I want to outline to the American people how they are preventing peace and pressure them to come to the table and agree to our common sense solution of returning to the 1967 borders which were approved by all humanity in the United Nations...
Chapter Fourteen
The plane’s wheels touched down on the Swiss runway with a screech. Connor jerked forward in his seat as the thrust reversers were applied. The aircraft slowed violently, momentarily worrying him that they would veer off the runway into the grass. However, soon they were taxiing to another private hanger, this one much more modern and luxurious. He peered out the window of the private jet and noticed the looming, dark green mountains on both sides of the airfield, framing the smooth, glassy lake reaching its finger in to Geneva from the north. They did not have time to enjoy the scenery as they were immediately passed through a bespoke immigration process and guided to a waiting vehicle.
Vasilovich had provided the three of them new documents and financial resources, all properly identified and legal. Connor, Sofiya, and Peter were the only occupants of the plane besides the pilots and one cabin crew member. Connor and Peter were promised a large sum of money to help in the operation. They both refused. They did not want to be seen as bought and paid for by the Russians. Besides, we both have enough money. That’s not the issue. Doing the right thing is the issue. Connor wasn’t even sure what he would do when he found the scientist, that is if they did find him. But he did know for sure he wanted to know what was going on, who had the weapon’s program and what were their intentions. I’ve got to see this one through.
Sofiya had informed Connor and Peter, after they agreed to work with her temporarily, that Anatoly had a long-term close friend who lived in the north of France. She informed them he was elderly and his mind was not as bright as Anatoly’s, but who still thought as clear as an alpine lake and worked harder than most fifty year olds. The man called Irving, lived in a small, ancient castle on Lake Annecy in the French Alps, about thirty-five kilometers south of Geneva. “He most likely has been in touch with Anatoly, that is, if he is still alive and able, or allowed, to communicate at all,” remarked Sofiya as they boarded the jet for the flight from Chisinau. “We’re flying to Geneva,” she said. “Then we will go to his location by car. The area is quite mountainous and inaccessible by plane. The train also does not suit our purposes. It is a half an hour car ride.”
Once again, Connor and Sofiya, and this time Peter as well, were in a dark SUV that was speeding along the winding Swiss highway on the way to the French border. The countryside was dotted with bright, golden fields as farmers cashed in on the lucrative rapeseed crop that could be converted into vegetable oil or biodiesel fuel in the rush find alternatives to hydrocarbons. It looked like a giant jigsaw puzzle with the pieces painted either bright green or a smashingly vibrant yellow. The Swiss penchant for orderliness was on full display as even the high-speed motorways were perfectly constructed with not a speck of graffiti or trash anywhere, not even a pothole or a crack in the pavement.
Twenty minutes later they approached the border crossing which turned out to be a non-event. The guards simply waved them through, although they did have to stop and pay a small toll. Soon they were inside French territory and crossing the final miles to the village of Annecy on the lake of the same name.
As they arrived into the village, Connor immediately noticed the sparkling blue, perfectly still lake in the distance abutting one of the large, grand hotels in the town. The water was surrounded by sharp relief as the terrain jutted skywards, leaving room only for the road along the shore around the body of alpine water. The rocky cliffs were dotted with ancient castles and other exotic dwellings that literally had been there for a millennia. Annecy, nicknamed the ‘Pearl of the French Alps,’ had changed hands multiple times over the centuries between the Counts of Geneva and the Counts of Savoy, and many other owners, including the Nazis.
They drove through the village, past the castle that had sheltered priests during the Catholic Reformation, past the winding canals of the French Venice, and past the colorful shops and cafes that were sprinkled throughout the pristine community. It’s like a fairy tale, thought Connor. I have to remember to bring Natasha here one day. Eventually they turned left and uphill through one of the few valleys that dotted the mountainous landscape. Connor could see in the distance a small castle that was nested near a creek and surrounding pasture dotted with cows. It was complete with a moat and accompanying wall, along with towers at the corners of the fortress. “Wow, this is the real deal,” Connor remarked as the closed in on the ancient structure. A guard at the gate waved them inside and soon the were walking up to the massive wooden doors that gave away the castle’s age.
Another servant let them inside. They were greeted by a stone space with a soaring, curved ceiling that resembled a half circle and ended at the floor on both sides. Large chandeliers hung from the high, wooden rafters that crossed the upper area of the room. The light was dim and candles flickered along the walls to provide a perfectly medieval sense of being. In front of them was a large, elongated wooden table that looked like it could have seated the King of France back in the day. At the end of the table, seated in front of a massive, unlit fireplace, sat a very elderly man with hair white as snow. He was a very small figure, having shrunk to about half of his original size in his old age. He seemed not to notice he had visitors.
A gray haired woman, not so young herself, sat by his side. She looked about seventy. The group was led in and seated across from the two older residents of the castle and Connor waited for Sofiya to speak.
“Hello, Irving,” she finally said in German. �
��Do you remember me? I’m a friend of Anatoly’s. We met a couple years ago, here in the castle at a party.”
The old man turned to look at her, seeming to have comprehended what she said. The woman to his side, probably his daughter, held his hand as he peered into Sofiya’s eyes and into his memory to try and pull out the details of their last meeting. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he replied, “Yes! I remember! It is so nice to see you again my sweet girl! How is your friend Vasili?”
“He is fine and sends his regards. He would have liked to come but he is very busy,” Sofiya continued in German, the man’s native tongue.
“Just as well, you are much prettier to look at!” the man exclaimed, his yellow, aged teeth showing in the dim light.
“You are too kind!” Sofiya responded and reached out to hold his other hand. “Irving,” she said after a short silence. “We came here to ask you something.” She looked at Peter and Connor who said nothing but smiled. Turning back to Irving, she continued, “We are worried about Anatoly. No one has seen or heard from him in a long time. We were wondering if you could tell us where he is. Have you heard from him recently?”
The old man slumped back in his chair, the subject having changed from his obvious interest in Sofiya’s beauty to the issue of the whereabouts of a friend.
“I don’t think I will ever see Anatoly again,” the man finally said after pondering the question for some time. The older woman squeezed his hand and patted rubbed his arm to comfort him. The thought of his friend obviously disturbed him.
“Why not?” asked Peter, who was fluent in German as well.
Irving looked at him and spoke, “Because he is far away now. We are both too old for that long of a trip anymore. Neither one of us have much time left. No, I don’t think I will see my good friend Anatoly again.”
“Where did he go, Irving?” Sofiya asked calmly and patiently. “Where is it that is so far away?”
Irving turned to look at the older woman for approval before he spoke, she nodded her head that it was ok. “He’s in Argentina.”
Sofiya was shocked. “Why do you say that? Did he tell you that?”
“No, I could just tell. We used to spend time there often, cooking meat out under the stars and enjoying the rustic countryside, the dancing, beautiful women, the peace of it all.”
“How could you tell?” asked Peter.
“Because I heard the cows. I heard them in the background and I knew he was there. He meant for me to hear them. And, he told me he was home. He couldn’t tell me really where he was but I knew what he meant. They wouldn’t let him tell me.”
“Who wouldn’t let him tell you?” asked Sofiya.
“I don’t know. Like I said, he couldn’t talk. But he called to tell me where he was and that he was okay. He also told me we would never see each other again, without saying so. My good friend.” The old man broke down at this point, his emotions getting the better of him. Sofiya squeezed his hand and the older women motioned that that was enough. Irving looked up once last time and said, “He called to say goodbye.”
The Sultan was meditating in the Oval Office, which was one of his favorite past times. There was a chime on his phone. “Yes?” he answered as his eyes remained closed.
“Sir, it’s Johnson. We just received a message from one of our Iranian intelligence contacts. They thought they had lost Murray. In fact they thought he was dead. But they may have picked his signal up again. They hid an ultra-thin RFID tracking device in one of the pieces of currency initially given to him. They just got an unexpected and it came from France, near the Swiss border. We have the location. They thought the devices were all dead but I guess not. Should we proceed with our earlier plan?”
“Yes,” said the president. “Now leave me alone.”
“They were very close and did much research together for the Soviet Union,” said Sofiya as the three of them sat outside on the piazza of a large hotel anchored on the side of the cliffs overlooking Lake Annecy. The waitress had just brought a round of drinks and they were alone, no one could hear their conversation. “I believe Irving was telling us the truth, or at least what he thought was the truth about Anatoly’s whereabouts. I could see the emotion in his face. He meant what he said.”
“But, why the hell would someone take him to Argentina?” asked Peter.
“That’s the question,” Sofiya answered. “The two of them loved to vacation there. But, there was another reason for their trips to Buenos Aires and beyond.” She let that sink in to the two of them.
“Well,” said Connor. “Are you going to fill us in on this little secret?”
“As you know Anatoly was connected at first to the Nazi regime and learned his craft from others in Berlin during the war as they researched new and different types of weapons of mass destruction. Anatoly was taken out of Berlin by Russian intelligence as you have been told. Many of the other scientists were secreted out of Germany by other powers, such as the Americans. They were sent to hide out of sight in South America, mainly Argentina. A few of them are still alive. Anatoly and Irving went to Argentina to collaborate with these evil minds. Russia had full knowledge of the situation and even encouraged it, although it was kept quiet with the utmost secrecy. We needed the information on what was possible for the weapons. The Americans grew tired of the old Nazis. But, not the Russians, not us. And they were quite useful, until they became too feeble. Some of them we had killed to destroy the evidence.”
“Jesus!” said Peter.
“Yes, Jesus would not have approved of our working with these evil men. That is for sure.” She smiled. “However, the protection of the Motherland required it in the view of the Kremlin.”
“So, we just have to go to Argentina and find the remaining Nazis and we will find Anatoly and whoever is building the bio weapon?”
“Yes, something like that.” She smiled again. Connor sat back in his chair and looked out over the lake down below. It was calm as a piece of glass and an incredibly beautiful sight, nestled in between the mountains towering above on each side. The deep blue against the deep green was striking.
“Here we are discussing the end of the world in this place of beauty. It doesn’t seem right,” he said as the sun sunk past the horizon and the day began to come to an end.
“I think that is why Irving came to live here. He was trying to escape this evil once and for all,” remarked Sofiya.
Connor heard it first. It was like something from the dark recesses of his mind. A sound he was intimately familiar with but couldn’t immediately place. Then he felt the vibration in the seat of his chair and he immediately knew. He was instantly taken back to flight school, sitting on the bench in the hangar, waiting on his aircraft to be released from maintenance and be ready for a ride.
The helicopters returning to the airfield. It was a distinct sound, a low rumble that was hard to misplace. He looked up, trying to spot them. The sound of a rotor system was distinct. Bell aircraft had the trademark wop wop sound that was unmistakable. The Sikorsky’s were a smooth beat. This one was something else. It must be European, he thought. I’m not used to the sound.
Connor stood up in his chair. “We’ve got company,” he said firmly. “There!” he pointed towards the valley they just left and spotted two aircraft hurtling towards them. “Sofiya!” take cover!” he screamed as he dived towards the retaining wall around the piazza. Peter was moving fast also. Sofiya was on the other side of the table and had a longer distance to cross to get to cover. Connor looked over his shoulder at her as she sprinted towards the same wall he was about to crouch behind. Connor saw a small red dot illuminate her forehead. “No!” he shouted.
It was too late. Her head jerked back as the high-speed bullet penetrated her brain. She collapsed on the stone floor. Connor looked at the helicopters now breaking the border of the hotel property. Snipers were hanging outside of the aircraft doors with very high-powered weapons. They moved their sights to him next. He had to move.
“Peter! Over the edge! It’s the only chance we’ve got!”
“Go!” screamed Peter. “I’m right behind you!” Connor and Peter ran towards the outer guard rail of the piazza and jumped. They never looked back. Bullets ricocheted off the stone wall around them, sending chunks of rock in every direction. Seconds later, they splashed into the water many meters below.
The icy, cold, mountain water was a shock to both of them. Connor took off his shoes under water and began to swim towards the shore, not breaking the surface. Peter followed. Luckily they landed near one another and Peter was able to see him under the surface as the light from the day dimmed above. They came up briefly for air and resubmerged immediately. Soon they were near the shore and Connor noticed a natural grotto cut out of the rock along the water. He pointed to the area so Peter could see and they submerged again, surfacing only inside the eroded cutout in the rocky cliff. At least we have some protection here, thought Connor. But not for long. They won’t give up so easily. They are professionals, here to do a job, to kill all of us.
Peter burst out of the surface of the water, heaving for breath. He reached onto the rocky ledge and attempted to rest. “Jesus, who the fuck are they?”
“I don’t know. But we need to break up. If we are together, then we’re easier to eliminate. I don’t hear them anymore but they could be circling back.” He looked at Peter. “Peter, I want you to go back to Israel, to my wife. Tell her what is happening. Tell her to wait for me. I will get word to you guys as soon as possible.”