Nuclear Surprise

by Rob Carnell

  "We would of course love to help, we have a common enemy," explained Hillali, "but technology is expensive."

  "I was hoping that would be your position teacher’’ said Kamal with a grin "I have something for you."

  Kamal rose and walked to the back of the airplane. Behind a false bulkhead beside the bathroom was a hidden room not visible in the design schematic of the plane. He removed a suitcase and passed it to the cleric Hillali.

  It was filled to the brim with untraceable cash. Inside there was enough U.S. dollars to fund a long term campaign.

  "Here is some money to start. I know this will be expensive, so I will make a regular deposit of five million dollars every year to keep the program running. Please send me details of your bank." Kamal passed the suitcase to the Muslim cleric whose mouth had dropped open.

  "Thank you Kamal. This will ensure our success."

  In fact, more than ten thousand rockets have already flown on Israel from Gaza, launched by the Hamas freedom fighters.

  It would have been bad manners for Hillali to open the case in front of Kamal.

  "Thank you Kamal, I will ensure we do what we can to help our brothers. I know you are in a rush, let us begin immediately" said Hillali anxious to get to the car so he could count the cash.

  "Please stay for just a few minutes longer teacher. There is something else I wish to discuss."

  "Of course Kamal" said the Muslim as he pulled in his robes so he could reseat himself.

  "Ayatollah, do you remember the Brotherhood building in Boston?"

  "Yes, I think so. That was where you lived when you were studying at M.I.T. wasn’t it?"

  "That’s it. Well, what I never told anyone was that I own the place. I could not find suitable accommodation, so I purchased the building, renovated it and setup the whole scheme. I engineered the whole project."

  "My heart is gladdened to hear this. It is indeed valuable charitable work for Islam."

  "Thank you Teacher. But I have an idea. At the moment, the manager makes the decision on who should be allowed to stay there, since we now have a waiting list. I would like you to find someone to take charge of the building. Perhaps you know someone who can help the students with their Islamic studies. They could also decide on who can use the facility" suggested Kamal.

  "Of course I can arrange this, but to what purpose?" asked Ayatollah Hillali.

  "These are some of the brightest Islamic minds in the U.S. If we choose our candidates carefully, this would make a perfect recruitment ground for our Jihad."

  "I will see to it. Kamal, you are wise beyond your years."

  Chapter 32

  Den Pasar Airport

  Bali, Indonesia

  October 8, 2004

  * * *

  THE PUBLICITY about the trial of the Bali terrorists was gaining momentum since the first charges were laid in April 2003.

  Kamal was concerned. The press in Australia were putting undue pressure on the Indonesian Government as a result of the eighty eight Australians killed in the blast. In turn, human rights activists the world over were trying to ensure the death penalty was off the table should the conspirators be convicted. Kamal had little doubt that they would be found guilty since most of the legal checks and balances of western democracy are missing from the Indonesian system of justice.

  When Kamal asked Amrozi for his guarantee of silence, this was only for effect. He had of course expected him to be martyred in the explosions with the other suicide bombers.

  A lengthy period of incarceration could only cause Kamal additional nervousness. He had to ensure that the members of the press were kept busy with other matters. Then the terrorists could be quietly found guilty and executed without delay. Kamal’s anonymity was of paramount importance.

  It was time to give the press something else to write about. Kamal spent a lot of time thinking about how to sidetrack the newspapers. Eventually he came up with a plan that was brilliant in its simplicity.

  A number of coded emails were sent by Kamal to his other contacts in Bali.

  The following day at Bali’s Den Pasar Airport, one of the bags was singled out for special attention before it was presented for collection.

  Beach towels and other personal effects in the body board bag of a girl arriving in Bali for a holiday, were replaced with just over eight pounds of marijuana before the bags were retrieved.

  Twenty six year old Australian beauty therapy student Schapelle Corby was arrested at Den Pasar airport and charged with drug trafficking.

  At the trial, the defense team was unable to obtain CCTV footage of the Bail airport terminal. The security cameras were mysteriously not working that morning.

  There was no finger printing of the plastic bags that the drugs were contained in.

  The case was not weighed to determine if the case was heavier than when it was originally checked in.

  The drugs were destroyed before they could be chemically examined to determine where the crop was actually grown.

  It was originally thought that Corby may have been sentenced to the death penalty for her crime. However, she was finally sentenced to life imprisonment for drug trafficking. This was later commuted to twenty years imprisonment in a hellish Balinese prison.

  The Bali bombing was replaced with a new front page. The terrorists were largely forgotten. A beautiful young blonde westerner convicted and sentenced to jail for twenty years on flimsy evidence was a dream come true for western journalists. Conspiracy theories ran rife in the main stream press. They just did not know where to look to follow this lead.

  Even to this day there is constant press coverage of the Corby case.

  In October 2008, nearly six years after the bombing, Amrozi Nurhasyim and two other accomplices were tied to trees and executed by firing squad on the island prison of Nusakambangan. Despite horrific torture, Amrozi never revealed the existence of the nameless man, or the source of the explosives used in the blast.

  Chapter 33

  Caesar’s Palace

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  10 years ago

  * * *

  THE CONFERENCE of electronics manufacturers is one of the largest events each year in Las Vegas.

  Kamal almost felt at home each year as he was driven up the long driveway past the fountains.

  Kamal attended every year and loved to let his hair down whilst away from Riyadh. He had many friends in the industry who he shared time with at these events.

  As usual, his personal plane carried him there in comfort, but it was dwarfed at the airport by much larger private aircraft belonging to rich gamblers in search of excitement.

  Of course he also enjoyed the flight itself courtesy of one of the female staff that he always kept on board.

  After September 11, it had become increasingly difficult for Kamal to arrange his nefarious activities in the U.S.

  He needed some local help.

  The art dealer who authenticated the Da Vinci years earlier was still involved with the Italian mafia. The dealer was able to put Kamal in contact with a man in Sicily who had powerful contacts in the U.S.

  Kamal met one of these contacts at the bar in the hotel.

  "I have some problems that I can’t seem to solve from Riyadh" said Kamal "can you help?"

  "Anything can be done for a price" said the swarthy looking man in a white suit "what did you have in mind?"

  Kamal pushed over a piece of paper. On the laser printed note were the names and addresses of five people who were causing him grief.

  "My electronics business would become much more profitable if these people retired from competition companies. I would be able to share some of the profits."

  "Two hundred thousand each, one million for the lot" whispered the man.

  "Come with me" said Kamal and the Italian followed to the elevators.

  Kamal opened the door and they went inside.

  There was a medium sized black case on the bed and Kamal went over and opened it.


  "There is one and a half million dollars in this case. Feel free to count it" gestured Kamal.

  "That won’t be necessary I don’t think you would want to stiff me, it is not healthy."

  "Please do it quickly."

  In the months that followed, Kamal’s opposition companies all needed new chief executives. Some were killed in accidents, others retired gracefully. In the period of upheaval until they found new leaders, the company stock prices plummeted while Kamal’s businesses went from strength to strength.

  Shortly after the man had left the room there was a quiet rap on the door. Wendy, the redhead from Atlantic City walked in.

  Chapter 34

  Boston Muslim Brotherhood

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  10 years ago

  * * *

  KAMAL HAD concluded his business in Las Vegas. On the spur of the moment, he decided to take a trip back to Boston. Wendy accompanied him. She loved the idea of the private jet.

  Kamal had not been back to Boston since his school days at M.I.T., but he had decided a couple of days detour was a worthwhile investment in time.

  Rather than the Brotherhood building, this time he stayed at the luxury Four Seasons hotel. It was springtime in Boston, and this was Kamal’s favorite time of the year.

  He quickly left his hotel behind and went for a stroll through Beacon Hill with Wendy. Next they hopped on red bus and followed the Freedom trail. Finally they finished at North End market for a feed of lobster.

  It had been a long time since Kamal had been back to Boston, and he came to realize how much he liked it here.

  "I have some business to attend to. Grab a cab back to the hotel and get a spa treatment, I will be back tonight" suggested Kamal.

  "Of course honey, see you soon."

  He grabbed a taxi to the Muslim Brotherhood building in Cambridge.

  The building looked to be in even better condition since the last time he had seen it fifteen years earlier. The paintwork had been redone and the lighting renovated. The shop selling Halal produce was still there.

  Kamal entered the empty shop and instantly recognized Amir busy behind the counter.

  "Hello Amir."

  Amir reached for his glasses and put them on. Of course he recognized his guest instantly. "Kamal! It is so good to see you! You have not changed a bit!"

  Amir ran around the counter and hugged Kamal.

  "You also look well Amir" said Kamal in an unconvincing way.

  "Unfortunately the years are taking their toll. But I still enjoy my job here. I even have a man from the Mosque who comes over to give the students religious instruction."

  "Excellent" said Kamal trying to sound surprised.

  "What beings you to Boston?" asked Amir.

  "I was at a conference in Nevada and thought I would spend a few days here as well."

  "Excellent, I will prepare a room for you."

  "Thank you Amir, but that will not be necessary as I have a hotel room already."

  "Then you must stay for dinner and eat with the students" said Amir excitedly. I will begin preparing the evening meal shortly.

  "Of course, but only if you will let me help prepare it."

  They spent the rest of the afternoon cutting, slicing and putting together a wonderful meal. All the meat had of course been slaughtered in the prescribed Islamic way. No gelatin products and no alcohol were used in the cooking.

  When the dinner was served to the eight students currently in residence, Amir introduced Kamal.

  "Brothers, we have a special guest to dine with us tonight. This is Kamal Pashwari. He is now a successful international businessman, and he was the first student to join our Brotherhood" said Amir indicating Kamal.

  Kamal was never short of a word and jumped to his feet "It is an honor to come back to the Brotherhood and join you for a meal."

  "You are extremely fortunate to have a place such as this to feel part of. When I first came to Boston to study, this facility was not available, and I lived on campus. This was terrible, the food was appalling, and I was even physically assaulted for being different. Follow Islam diligently and study hard. It is young people like you who can make a huge difference in shaping the world as we know it for the future."

  Kamal sat to rousing applause.

  He made certain that he met every student, one in particular made an impression.

  "This is Omar" gestured Amir "his girlfriend is famous."

  "Hello Omar, tell me about your girlfriend" said Kamal with interest.

  "I have been living in Washington D.C. for two years before I came here. My girlfriend Katie graduated political science last year. She found a job working as a junior secretary with the Vice-President. She works in the White House."

  "That is most impressive" said Kamal now excited "I would like to stay in touch with you."

  Kamal passed a business card to the young man "Please send me an email to the address on this card, it is important to widen your network of friends."

  Kamal had the feeling that someday he would like to know more about what was happening in the White House.

  Chapter 35

  Boatyard

  Minsk, Russia

  1 year ago

  * * *

  MINSK IS a port town on the Sea of Okhotsk in the Far East of Russia.

  The shipyard at Minsk is adjoined by a small private boatyard. This is the place that a handful of Russian men disappear to every weekend, to work on their lifelong projects to fulfill their dreams.

  Most of the part finished boats here will never ever see the water. Their owners seem to spend more time sipping vodka in the bars surrounding the waterfront than toiling over their beloved craft.

  Dimitri Ostrowski was not like most of the other Russian builders, as he was to be found in the boatyard every spare moment he had. Dimitri’s daytime job was as a fiberglass worker in a factory. He helped make fiberglass furniture and refrigeration liners for the large ships in the main Minsk shipyard.

  The beauty of his daytime job was that he was able to keep off cuts from the fiberglass matting rolls. As well, he smuggled out of the yard in his thermos, a liter of fiberglass resin every day. He needed six hundred liters for his project, and he was on schedule.

  Dimitri was not born in Russia, but in Iran. His father was a diplomat from Ukraine and was stationed in Tehran for five years, and he married a local Iranian woman called Pasha. Unfortunately for Dimitri, his father was killed in a car accident, and Dimitri was raised as a devout Muslim.

  Twenty years later, Dimitri was smuggled back to Russia by the Brotherhood. For the last two years Dimitri had worked in the factory.

  He had no idea why his mission was to build a sailing boat in his spare time, but he knew he would build the best boat he could.

  A custom boat hull is built upside down. He made eleven frames of shapes from the Bruce Roberts plans he had been given back in Tehran. These were mounted on what looked like a long table. Then thin timber strips were nailed to the frames and these gave the boat their shape. After that, thin foam was stitched to the strips then fiberglass mat was laid over this. The polyester resin applied in small amounts from a bucket set to give the strength to the structure. Afterwards the mat was rolled with a notched steel roller to remove the trapped air and make the finished product rock hard. Because of the cold temperatures, lots of hardener had to be mixed with the resin to initiate the chemical reaction that caused the resin to heat up and set.

  The keel for his centre cockpit ketch stuck up in the air like a submarine sail.

  The hull was finished today and there was much excitement in the boat yard.

  All the regulars had gathered to give Dimitri a hand, as a thirty five foot boat was not an easy thing to turn over.

  "Bring the gantry over here" shouted Dimitri to Ivan, the only one of his comrades that he really knew at all.

  Ivan and another of the regulars pushed the gantry over the uneven ground and positioned it over the hull. T
hey put some timber under the wheels so it would not sink into the earth.

  Dimitri fastened two slings from a three ton chain block right underneath the frame then slowly pulled on the chain.

  Ten minutes later despite groans from the straining timberwork underneath, the hull and frame lifted clear of the ground. Then the guys slowly rolled the hull over onto its side, then all the way over until its keel pointed to the ground. A timber cradle was hastily nailed together to keep the hull upright. The boat was lowered onto the cradle. Lastly, the timber frame was pulled out from inside the hull with the chain block.

  Dimitri could not help crying when he saw the hull upright. It was a thing of beauty. As soon as his cheer squad left, he followed orders to the letter. He walked to a nearby bar, inserted a coin into a pay phone and dialed a local number, the same way he had done every week for nearly two years and reported his progress. He was surprised when he was told to stray from the building plans. Dimitri was told to build the deck before installing the lead in the keel. In addition he was told to quit his job and that he would be transferred some money to buy the rest of the materials.

  Dimitri complied with his orders to the letter, and four weeks later the deck was finished.

  Part III

  Hide & Seek

  Chapter 36

  White House, Oval Office

  Washington D.C.

  October 11

  * * *

  BY THE time President Connolly arrived, Admiral Nelson and Adam Scott, Director of the CIA were both waiting outside.

  This was perhaps the only time that a President in a robe and slippers had opened the door and ushered in his own guests.