The Third Cell

by Anthony D'Egidio

  Eventually the ventilation fans were turned back on and the room cleared of the toxic fumes. The two guides, dressed in rubber protective gear, entered and stripped Faris of all personal items and clothing. They dragged his body over to the vat of hydrofluoric acid and carefully lowered it in. Faris’ decomposing body sent clouds of multicolored vapors rising into the ventilators. Skin, hair, teeth and bones disintegrated. Within an hour, all traces of Faris Kamel Shurrab, the master mentor, had completely disappeared.

  Early the next morning, a Damascus Police Vehicle noticed a break in the guardrail on a bridge crossing the Barada River. Two hours later they recovered a vehicle along with the body of Salah Aflaq.

  The Amir was content that there was no link to any person involved in the murder of the three Jews or to the training and education of the cell members in England.

  The only people on the face of the earth to know their true identify are the three cell members and myself. I will take this knowledge to the grave if necessary.

  CHAPTER 20

  ESTABLISHING, 1991 - 1994

  Jonah Meyerson

  Attending the first developer/subcontractor meeting for Beekman Estates in early March 1991, Jonah was surprised by the size and scope of the project.

  What was once an open cornfield was going to be transformed over the next few years to one of the most exclusive country clubs in the United States. The site work and the constructing of the infrastructure had already begun.

  Jonah arrived early and was studying the subcontractors one by one as they walked in. Over the past two years working for Ceballo, he had gotten to know and respect most of the men involved in the construction of the houses.

  The owners of these companies were hardworking, self-made entrepreneurs. They hadn’t attended college; in fact, most didn’t graduate from high school. With diligence and common sense, they had become very successful. This group of ragtag, hard-drinking, no-nonsense working class people was making three hundred to five hundred thousand dollars a year if times were good.

  In 1991, times were not good for the housing developers and subcontractors in South Florida, especially Boca Raton. Boca Raton’s main employer had reduced the size of its personnel from a high of ten thousand people in 1986 to less than fifteen hundred in 1991. It was a devastating blow to the local economy and especially the housing developers. It had been lean times, the past two years, for most of the subcontractors in the room. They were betting on this project to bring them the hard cash they needed.

  Ceballo Landscaping didn’t have the financial problems of most subcontractors. Ceballo’s base of operation covered such a large area, one locality’s problem had little effect on them. Their clients tended to be people with Intracoastal and beachfront properties and they never seemed to be affected by the economy. Their customers had money and they were going to spend it.

  The meeting opened with each subcontractor introducing himself and his category of work.

  Jonah rose to his feet. “Phoenix Irrigation Inc. Phoenix will be responsible for all the common area irrigation.” Only I can appreciate the name.

  Irrigation was split into two major areas, the common and the individual homeowner lots. Jonah wanted nothing to do with homeowner irrigation and the problems associated with it. But it was strategic for him and the mission to have all of the common areas, which included the parameter and key parts of the development.

  Someone from the back yelled out, “I thought you were with Ceballo?”

  “Yes, but since this project is so big, I’ve started a separate company just to manage the irrigation portion.”

  The rest of the meeting was a discussion on the models, permit problems with the City of Boca Raton and bitching about the back-charge policy. Jonah left to drive the site.

  Even having a four-wheel drive vehicle didn’t help. Many areas were not accessible due to the site work. Jonah stepped out of his SUV and walked the perimeter areas several times. There are canals bordering three sides of the complex, making my plans for the mission much easier. It looks more like a prison than a secured community and I will exploit this.

  It took Jonah three hours and two bottles of water, but he had drawn out his preliminary plans and only had to wait for the actual irrigation blueprints. After he completed his survey of the site, Jonah went to the Beekman Estates sales office. After introducing himself he took several brochures.

  In the privacy of his office Jonah placed the brochures in an envelope addressed to Multilingual Books and Records in Detroit. A simple note said, “Please forward these to the Lee Ruby brothers.”

  Robert Peterson, following the directions, sent them out in the next monthly mailing.

  Within a month the blueprints of the front entrance and perimeter blueprints were on Jonah’s desk. He called in his lead supervisor to discuss the layout.

  Jonah pointed to several locations on the blueprints. “I want a duplicate run from the irrigation panel to each of the valve boxes, and I want it put in two-inch PVC pipe. We’re going to do this on all of our electrical runs. At each valve box, approximately two feet away from the north side of the box, I want a three and one-quarter inch by one and one-half foot stainless steel pipe, threaded and capped at both ends, placed into the ground at a two and one-half foot depth, perpendicular to the ground. Make sure the upper cap is one foot below the surface.”

  The supervisor while scratching his head remarked, “That’s a lot of extra work and cost. Why would you go through all that expense and use stainless steel pipe?”

  “This is the biggest job in years,” Jonah lied. “With changes happening all over the place, I want the extra protection of a second secure run. As far as the stainless steel pipe goes, we’re developing a new method of irrigation and this is just a portion of the design.”

  “Okay with me. It’s your money.”

  Jonah knew it wasn’t company money at all but from the mission’s fund. The additional runs and the implanted stainless steel pipe had nothing to do with irrigation.

  Jonah was in his office when Luis entered unexpectedly. Seeing Jonah’s marked up blueprint with all the notations he asked, “Jonah, how come all the detail? You have all the site underground and demarcation points for telephone, electrical and natural gas. That’s a lot more information than we usually require.”

  “I need it for the irrigation runs. I can’t be taking a ditch digger over an electrical line, or worse, puncture a natural gas line.”

  “Makes sense,” said Luis.

  I have to be careful with my prints, thought Jonah. Luis is too inquisitive and I can’t take a chance on him discovering the extra buried piping and wiring.

  “Actually Jonah, I came here to discuss another opportunity for you.”

  “How much money do you think I have? In addition to the irrigation company, I just bought a landscape maintenance company.”

  “I know, but this won’t take money, just balls. As long as you can come up with twenty percent, any bank will loan you the money. If you need the twenty percent I can loan it to you through the corporation and no one will be the wiser.”

  “I’m interested, Luis. What’s the great deal?”

  “One of the controlling partners of Dade Limestone and Rock wants out. He’s been fighting with the other two partners for years. Doesn’t help his ex-wife’s brother is one of the partners.”

  “But doesn’t owning a quarry company come with major liabilities because of the explosives?” asked Jonah, knowing he was baiting Luis.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s federally and state controlled and the state audits the business twice a year. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “If the price is right, I’ll make an offer,” said Jonah. I’ve just been given an opportunity to buy a company that has access to explosives? It’s another gift from Allāh.

  Luis turned to Jonah. “You know, right now we may be on the verge of the largest commercial and residential building booms that South Florida has ever seen.
You’re going to become a very rich man.”

  Jonah and his laborer had just finished another inspection run of the perimeter wall. Jonah viewed the concrete structure. Walls to keep people out can be used to keep people in!

  The wall was eight feet high and eight inches thick, made of concrete and reinforced steel. It stretched for a mile on each side, surrounding the entire complex, and had been piped for irrigation with trees and shrubbery.

  Jonah stopped at the location indicated on the marked-up blueprint. Walking the area he pointed to a spot and said, “Dig here.”

  The laborer dug only a couple of minutes when the shovel struck a hard object. “Found something.”

  “Uncover it by hand and be careful you don’t damage anything.”

  The laborer cleared the top six inches of the buried stainless steel pipe.

  Jonah inspected the results. “Bury everything and replace the sod.”

  They made several stops on each of the four walls, uncovering the special stainless steel pipes located near each valve box. It took them almost two days to complete the task.

  Jonah surveyed the blueprint. I’m amazed we found the piping this easily. We could have been done twice as fast if we had a metal detector.

  On Valentine’s Day 1993, Maria gave birth to her and Jonah’s first child, a girl whom they named Valentina Maria Ceballo Meyerson.

  Jonah was overwhelmed to hold this tiny newborn in his arms. I’ve complicated the mission by having this child, but I’ll protect her and her mother at all costs.

  February 26, 1993: Jonah was having a late lunch at a local restaurant, when the television announcer interrupted the broadcast. “In New York City at the World Trade Towers an explosion has been reported. Several emergency vehicles have responded to the area. Cause of the explosion is unknown at this time.”

  Jonah continued to watch the news with intense curiosity over the next several days as he surmised. I knew from the first broadcast was a terrorist bombing, probably the work of al-Qaeda.

  Jonah couldn’t believe the reports. How weak is the security system in the United States, when a huge truck can enter a building and not be inspected? Even in Colombia before a vehicle can enter a shopping center, a supermarket, or any facility, they are searched thoroughly along with mirrors to look at the undercarriage. Bomb-sniffing dogs climb inside the vehicle and two soldiers stand with automatic weapons ready to shoot. A South American country has better security than the mighty United States!

  Jonah monitored the investigation. How sloppy were the bombers, leaving behind records that could be traced. I will be more diligent.

  Daniel Schonfeld

  Daniel, working at Blue Mountain Munitions, had a keen interest in the World Trade Center bombing. He carefully reviewed and noted all the elements used to make the thirteen-hundred-and-ten pound bomb built by Ramzi Yousef, an Islamic Terrorist with links to al-Qaeda. The homemade bomb consisted of urea pellets, nitroglycerin, sulfuric acid, aluminum azide, magnesium azide and bottled hydrogen. Sodium cyanide had also been added to produce cyanide gas, hoping to penetrate the ventilation systems of the complex, causing multiple deaths.

  Daniel continually monitored the terrorist bombing. The materials, bought for less than one hundred fifty dollars, caused extensive damage to four of the sub-levels of concrete, opening a hole approximately one hundred fifty feet wide. This bomb is too complex. An ammonium nitrate fuel oil explosive would have done the job just as well.

  The ANFO explosive was so simple it was giving the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms fits. A mixture of ANFO, weighing approximately six thousand pounds, could have the same force as five thousand pounds of TNT. By soaking ammonia nitrate prills in open bags with eight to ten percent of their weight in fuel oil and then draining off the excess after a half hour, the ammonia nitrate fertilizer prills will have absorbed the correct amount of fuel oil to support an explosion.

  Later, Daniel was studying the 1975 White Sands Missile Range testing of ANFO capped cylindrical charges. I calculate by using the formula of πr2h / cubic inches in a foot. (3.14 × 32 × 12) / 1728) = .20 cubic feet in a three inch diameter steel pipe, one foot in length will hold an ANFO mixture of 11.8 pounds, equal to the explosive force of just over 9.52 pounds of TNT.

  A Teflon-coated ball bearing will penetrate any protective bulletproof gear and not be corroded by the ANFO mixture. Once the ANFO and ball bearing mixture canister are set inside the pipe, on top of another six inches of ANFO, I will seal the top with a liquid foam insulator. When the explosive wire initiator is fired, the canister will reach a height between four and six feet, with the exploding wire providing sufficient shock energy to initiate a secondary explosion. Any projectile mixed with the ANFO could be lethal up to eighty feet away.

  Daniel smiled as he finished the calculations. I’ve developed a device that can match any manufactured anti-personnel land mine. All I need is a computer- controlled electrical firing system.

  Daniel had just aced another test in the Environmental Chemistry class. Leaving the classroom he overheard a fellow student.

  “I just got another D,” complained Traci Sanders to a friend. “This test on the field monitoring of volatile organics using portable gas chromatography was torture. I didn’t understand half the questions.”

  Walking by Traci, Daniel joked, “It’s not that bad. You’re probably reading too much into the questions.”

  Traci, a fervent, five-foot-tall, 105-pound, half-Irish, half-English redhead with fiery green eyes, could hold her own with the best of them. “Right, genius, we’re all not gifted like you. In fact, some of us actually have to study.”

  Daniel, surprised he even spoke to her, said, “If you want some tutoring I’ll be glad to help you, but I work full-time so it would have to be on a weekend.”

  Traci eyed up Daniel. Well he’s intelligent, kind of cute and actually has a job. “Okay, I’ll see you at the Carol M. Newman Library about ten on Saturday. I like it better than the main library. But I’m not sure this is going to help.”

  Saturday Daniel arrived at the library early. I can’t believe I had the courage to even talk to her, and now I’m going to tutor her?

  Traci walked up to the library steps where Daniel was waiting. “Well genius, you ready?”

  “I’m not a genius. I work hard to get my grades. Please call me Daniel.”

  “Okay genius, let’s go.”

  Daniel just grimaced.

  After spending two hours on lessons Traci said, “Let me buy you lunch. You’ve made the complex issues of environmental chemistry understandable.”

  At lunch Traci was curious about this man she was eating with. “You don’t say much, do you?”

  “I haven’t been around women very often.”

  “You told me you grew up in London. I have to believe there is at least one or two in the city,” Traci said sarcastically.

  “I’m just shy and spend too much time on my studying and now, of course, working.”

  “I don’t know why someone would leave such an exciting city like London and move to Blacksburg, Virginia. That is unless you like to watch paint dry.”

  “It’s definitely different than what I’m use to,” said Daniel. Very different!

  Over the course of several weeks Daniel and Traci continued seeing each other.

  One night at dinner Traci made one of those remarks that always caught Daniel by surprise. “You don’t drink any alcohol, so I can’t take advantage of you!”

  Daniel thought, I never know what she is going to say, but I wasn’t ready for that. I certainly can’t tell her it’s against my Islamic beliefs. “My father was an alcoholic and mean-tempered, so I never took up drinking.”

  “Is your father still alive?”

  “No, alcohol did him in.” Daniel, unlike the other two cell members, had never taken an alcoholic drink.

  “Now I understand.” Traci pushed her glass aside. “But you never told this to me before. Are you uncomfortable th
at I drink?”

  “It’s your choice.”

  “In that case, I’m ordering a Kamikaze.”

  Over the next two hours at dinner, Traci consumed three more. By the time they were leaving, Traci was feeling no pain.

  As Daniel opened the car door, Traci grabbed him and kissed him so hard she cut his lip.

  Laughing Traci said. “I’m going home with you tonight, Daniel, and I won’t take no for an answer. Up till now you’ve been a perfect gentleman, but I’m going to change all of that.”

  I would have never imagined a woman being this aggressive. For Daniel the virgin, it was his turn to be tutored.

  Traci had her first lover at the age of thirteen. Her mother worked and her best friend Roy lived two doors away, spending most of his afternoons with her. One afternoon they discovered a bottle of wine that her mother failed to lock up. They soon were playing strip poker and she not only lost her virginity, but her best friend on the same day. Together they explored their newfound sexual relationship but eventually they drifted apart.

  Traci wasn’t promiscuous, but had been involved in two other affairs. Both were disasters. She liked the jocks and though they made great lovers, they were missing in every other aspect, especially etiquette. She was tired of beeping horns summoning her to their cars and their foul language.

  Daniel was always the gentleman: opening doors, always making sure she was comfortable and even rising when she got up from the table.

  I really like the attention Daniel gives to me, Traci thought. I sometimes feel like I’m in a ‘40’s movie, with Clark Gable.

  Daniel was perplexed. He was not prepared for the likes of Traci Sanders, but she made him laugh and Daniel, the very serious intellectual Muslim, was surprised how comfortable he was with her.

  Daniel and Traci were sitting in a restaurant with Mel Parks, the lead salesperson at Blue Mountain Munitions’ Dallas office, and his wife. Mel was at Blue Mountain Munitions corporate headquarters for a seminar that Daniel was hosting.