by Jon Sedran
“Your highness, I assure you regime change will happen. Our training camps in Jordan are working well and we are supplying the moderate rebels with arms…they will be successful.”
“You have to do more!” replied an angry Fassid. “They cannot defeat the Syrian military supplied by Russia and augmented by Hezbollah and Iranian forces. The unrest there is drawing in extremists from afar; it may destabilize the whole region and lead to Islamic revolutions…Iraq is falling apart.”
“People want democracy…Islamic extremists will fail,” Brennan assured him, not sure he really believed it.
“Ambassador, it will take more than idealism; you do not understand the Arab world. Democracy does not work here…and you yourselves have an oligarchy while you preach that democracy garbage to the rest of the world,” Fassid’s voice rose as his patience wore thin.
“Your highness, CIA assessments show the increased training and re-supply efforts will be effective in Syria…in time,” offered an exasperated Brennan, trying his best to placate the prince.
“In time,” mocked a very unimpressed Fassid, shifting in his chair. “Our own intelligence service has told us Iran is no more than a year away from building a nuclear weapon. The Israelis, I’m sure you know, share that assessment. If Iran gets a bomb, we will have to obtain one too Mister Brennan.”
“Your highness, they have signed an historic agreement. We have every available resource in use to ensure they are not hiding anything. Again, I assure you our President will take strong decisive action if we have proof of a deception.”
“I am worried the “proof” will be a very large glowing crater right where we are now sitting.”
Brennan sighed. “You know President Acosta just doesn’t want another Iraqi WMD bad call.”
“Good day Mr. Ambassador,” said Fassid, excusing himself and leaving the room.
Brennan sat for a few moments. It was very clear the prince was unmoved by his reassurances. He worried that the Saudis were beginning to explore a nuclear weapons program to counter what they saw as Iranian nuclear ambitions and an aggressive regime. Saudi nervousness was reinforced as more than once Iranian leaders had recently referred to the Saudi royal family as traitors to Islam that needed to be dealt with.
As Brennan was escorted from the palace to his waiting car, he was clearly thinking, the entire Middle-East is a powder keg; any one of a number of issues could light the fuse.
Upon his return to the embassy compound, he sent the required diplomatic message back to the State Department with a summary of his meeting with the Saudi Crown Prince. There it was reviewed by Kragen and her top staff. He had included a summary statement of his observation that the Saudi rulers were beginning to question U.S. resolve in that area of the world and their fear of a nuclear-armed Iran, and he underlined it.
* * * *
“Why do you think a face-to-face meeting with the American President might be a good idea?” asked Kaviani, meeting in Tehran with Javadi and Massoud.
“I feel we need to have better relations to end all the sanctions; the remaining ones are still hurting the economy,” Massoud explained.
“Their STUXNET worm wreaked havoc on our nuclear program,” Kaviani pointed out. “It was an act of war.”
“Yes, I know,” replied Massoud.
Javadi stared coldly at Massoud. “It infected the controllers that ran our uranium enrichment centrifuges destroying nearly one-third of them,” he reminded him.
“Yes, but we need to move forward,” Massoud responded, adding, “The final agreement got us some relief, and the additional funds from oil sales will help a lot. So, I am asking for approval for a meeting with the American President when I am in New York to address the U.N. next month.”
“I may allow it…but do not forget the Zionists and their American supporters are our mortal enemies,” Kaviani sternly warned.
“Do they have to be?” asked Massoud.
Kaviani was clearly not ready to compromise on the issue. “Their actions are that of enemy states and I don’t see things changing. The Palestinian people are oppressed daily…their lands occupied by the Zionist entity.”
Massoud nodded. “Thank you both for your input on this important matter,” he said. “Unfortunately I am late for another meeting.” He excused himself and left the room.
“He is a dreamer,” Kaviani observed, smiling slightly.
“Yes, but he may buy us more time to complete the project,” Javadi threw out.
“I wonder if we should tell him of it?”
“I suggest we wait.”
* * * *
Seated at a patio table at the Amman Marriot Hotel’s restaurant, Scherial smiled as the waiter brought their lunches out. “Ali, I’ll bet you are a smart chemist.”
“I enjoy my work,” he replied.
“I can use a good chemist, Ali.”
Shirazi said nothing for a moment. “I have a job,” he replied.
“Yes, and I’m sure they pay you well. But you have had some difficulties, no?”
“How do you …” Shirazi stopped himself mid-sentence and looked awkwardly at Scherial.
Scherial leaned forward and spoke in a quiet voice. “Ali you can leave that place, and we will give you a good job doing what you love, using your knowledge to do good things.” Shirazi looked around, fearful they were being watched, or that this was a trap.
“I work on…on good things,” he stammered.
“Nonsense…I will be upfront with you Ali, we know what you do it and it makes the world a far more dangerous place.”
Shirazi took a deep breath and again looked around nervously. “I don’t know what you are referring to,” he mumbled.
“Ali, you can trust me, we think alike.”
“How do you know how I think…and who are you?”
“I represent a group of concerned scientists who are working to prevent the spread of weapons of mass destruction…and we need your help.”
“I cannot help you.”
“Ali, you can help…we need information on the progress of the two-point implosion testing.”
Shirazi’s throat was becoming dry. He took a sip of water and again looked around to see if anyone was watching them, “Why do you come to me?”
“I know you are a man with a conscience.”
Ali shook his head. “I cannot help you…they would…kill me.”
“Ali, listen to me…we will compensate you very well, and you should know we take your personal safety very seriously. When you have provided us the information, we will set you up in a country anywhere in the region working in the oil and gas exploration field. Even your own business, if you want.”
Beads of perspiration appeared on Shirazi’s forehead; he took another sip of water. “Are you Mossad?” he asked, glancing back and forth, but trying to look relaxed.
“I am a scientist who cares about our children’s future, and I want them to live in a peaceful world.”
“I do too,” Shirazi offered in a barely audible voice.
“Ali, my group takes extreme measures to protect our sources.”
Shirazi took a deep breath then spoke softly, “I do work on certain horrible things.”
“I know…all we need is proof of test results. If at any time anything goes wrong, my associates and I will quickly get you out of Iran and set you up comfortably in a place of your choosing.”
Shirazi set his fork aside and tapped his fingers on the table. “If I get caught, they will torture and kill me.”
“Ali, there are dangers of course…I cannot deny that. But we have an excellent record of protecting our sources.”
“What information do you want?” Shirazi asked, wiping the perspiration from his brow with his napkin.
“The latest test results of two-point implosion testing. Pressures, wave shapes, velocities, and most important, high-speed X-ray photos of the pit compression.”
Shirazi’s throat went dry; he could barely get the words out, �
��You know what we are doing then?”
Scherial nodded and quietly said, “Of course.”
“We were nearly done testing…before the explosion,” Shirazi whispered, not even sure why the words came out.
“Ali, we need official copies of the testing data, and the X-ray photos to show the world.”
“I don’t know how….I can’t. They are already suspicious of me…there was an explosion...they still think I may have had something to do with it.”
“Yes, I know all about it.”
“How could you know? It was not in the news.” Shirazi asked.
“Ali, it is our business to know,” Scherial replied, with a slight smile. “Ali, I will show you how to safely get the data.”
Shirazi looked around, and then nodded, “Okay, I will try,” he whispered. But I want out of the country, a good job and enough money to live very well.”
“As you wish Ali, do you want a cash advance?” Shirazi hesitated and almost accepted, but was too scared and just shook his head.
The two men finished their lunches and Scherial paid the check “I will be in touch Ali. You are a good person,” he said. “Let’s get back to the conference.”
* * * *
In the Oval Office the Secretary of State brought the President up to date on the diplomatic front. The Middle-East was as always, a chaotic and dangerous place.
“Mr. President, I just read the ambassador’s report from his meeting with Saudi Prince Fassid,” said Kragen. “The Saudis question our resolve. Why are we accepting Iran sending military assistance to Syria and why are we not stopping Iraq from allowing Iran to use their airspace for these military activities?”
“It is their airspace…and Iraq is a total disaster,” Acosta reminded her. He wanted to add, but didn’t, And we’re using their airspace to do the same damn things.
“Yes it is,” Kragen admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “But after all we did free them from Saddam’s rule, and help them to establish a democracy…one would think they would respect our wishes. And the Iraqi Prime Minister just met again with his Iranian counterpart.”
The President nodded. “I know,” he said. “Nancy, we have several hundred military trainers and advisors operating out of Jordan. They are reporting good progress on training the insurgents to fight ISIS. Our people have set up three bases near the Syrian border. Turkey has been some help, and the CIA is confident we will prevail.”
Kragen glanced down at her tablet PC screen. “The Saudis also don’t trust Iran on the nuclear issue, Mr. President. They are certain Iran continues with a clandestine nuke weapons program.”
The President had a look of discomfort on his face. “The Israelis too, I got an earful again.”
“Mr. President, we have Iran’s assurances that per the agreement they will let U.N. inspectors in with unfettered access. So far, the IAEA reports are mostly positive, and neither the Israelis, nor the Saudis, nor any of our own intelligence agencies for the matter, have provided proof of a clandestine bomb program.”
Acosta listened patiently and then said, “They will not let inspection teams visit all areas of their military base at Parchin, southeast of Tehran. Makes me wonder if they’re still hiding something.” The President took a sip of coffee and then continued, “Nancy, DIA says Parchin is where Iran possibly did most of the two-point implosion testing needed to develop a weaponized device small enough to fit on a missile.”
“But I thought I saw where CIA reported that Iran ended that testing a while back,” replied Kragen, adding, “I think we have to take baby steps and not push them too hard just yet.”
Acosta reached for a photo on his desk and handed it to Kragen. “Look at this... it appears they had a big explosion at the Parchin site a few weeks back.”
“I did read something about it, but I did not see any details Mr. President.”
“Hopefully it did a lot of damage,” Acosta said, sarcastically. “Anyway, I’m hopeful President Massoud will be able to get through to the ruling hardline clergy. I info’d you on the message he sent asking about setting up a face-to-face meeting. He said he was open to working with us on many topics including Syria, the Palestinian issue, free trade, and nuclear proliferation.”
“Yes, I’m very optimistic,” said Kragen.
Acosta glanced at his watch, put his reading glasses in his shirt pocket and stood up. “I better get going Nancy. I’m meeting with the Vice President to discuss his fund-raising trip to California. He wants this desk when I leave office.”
* * * *
Kaviani had requested Javadi come meet with him in his office to go over the details of the final nuclear agreement and possible discussions on trade with the sanctions removed. He knew they had to move quickly. The Iranian leader had gambled the nuclear agreement would not derail Iran’s ambitious plans. He muted the television as Javadi entered.
“Please sit down,” he said, motioning Javadi toward a chair. “The U.N. inspectors must not discover anything.”
“They will surely make things more difficult for us,” grumbled Javadi. “And we have every right to enrich uranium.”
Kaviani frowned. “I am counting on you,” he said tersely. “The West does not see things the way we do and we cannot afford to have the sanctions put back on us. You must work quickly to ensure everything they inspect meets the terms of the agreement we signed. We cannot buy ourselves much more time.”
“We have already begun the process,” Javadi assured him. “Everything will be in order for the inspectors. Our high-level enrichment centrifuges at Natanz and Fordow are located away from the other areas, and the facilities housing them are virtually impossible to detect.”
Kaviani glanced briefly up at the television, Al Jazeera happened to be showing a clip about Iran’s nuclear power program. “We have allowed them into the Arak heavy water reactor,” he reminded Javadi.
Javadi took a sip of water and nodded. “Yes, we finished modifying the design and the changes are invisible. We constructed a secondary control room, well out of sight. That room controls the special materials production remotely. The inspectors only see the primary control room.”
“Good,” said Kaviani looking more relaxed.
Javadi leaned back in his chair. “The inspectors see we are in full compliance. Of course, there are no guarantees.”
“Of course,” said Kaviani in a deadpan tone, scrolling down his phone screen. “But most importantly, Oghab-Three must never be discovered,” he warned.
“It is well-hidden and very secure,” replied Javadi. He took another sip of water. “You know I do not agree with the terms of final agreement.”
Kaviani nodded. “I know, I don’t like them either…but we had to get the sanctions removed.” He texted a brief reply to a message, and then stood up. “Profits from oil sales will allow us to purchase more special equipment…I am counting on you to complete the project.”
“It will be done,” replied Javadi confidently.
“Good, I must get to another meeting,” said Kaviani, turning to leave.
Javadi watched as he left the room. He is too weak, he thought. I urged him not to agree to let the damn inspectors in…I must act quickly to complete both projects.
CHAPTER TEN
On September sixth, two-thousand seven, just after midnight, the Israeli Air Force bombed and destroyed a suspected nuclear reactor and possible unconventional weapons site in Syria. It was called Operation Orchard. The Israeli F-15 and F-16 jets used on the raid lacked any stealth technology. Yet they flew seemingly undetected into heavily defended Syrian airspace. To do this required sophisticated equipment and a computer program run from a nearby Israeli Air Force ELINT aircraft. The program, called Sorcerer is designed to interfere with the computers and fire-control networks used for air defense systems. Sorcerer’s operators can configure the program to allow them to monitor what an adversary’s radar controllers are seeing. The powerful program can even be set it up to allow friendly forces to t
ake control of the enemy's defensive networks and re-direct their sensors. It has the capability to attack the networks linking mission-essential equipment, including missile launchers. Sorcerer was in fact, a kill switch on a small scale.
In twenty-thirteen, a former Syrian Air Force major had recounted that air defenses in the Syrian Deir ez-Zor region were told to stand down as soon as the Israeli planes were detected heading for the reactor. This ‘order’ had not come from Syrian military, but from a trained operator on the Israeli ELINT aircraft. A similar program was also used by the US during Operation Neptune Spear, the Osama Bin Laden raid, to jam and confuse some of Pakistan’s ground based radars.
Joint Chiefs Chairman General Dwight Bingham arrived at the White House and went directly to the Oval Office to brief the President on an Iranian first-strike operation plan. He was a commanding presence at six-foot four inches tall. He carried with him a black attaché case containing several folders.
“Hello general, can I offer you a cup of coffee,” asked Acosta, remaining seated at his desk as Bingham entered.
“No thank you sir, I’ll pass.”
“Then please have a seat general.”
Bingham sat down, opened his case and removed two folders. Both were marked TOP SECRET-NF, SI’, ‘OP PLAN 15-01, NORTHERN WIND’. He handed one to the President.
Acosta got up, poured himself a cup of coffee and went back to his desk. “General, before we begin, I just want to reiterate we have nothing to indicate Iran is not complying with the nuclear agreement. But, if we find out otherwise, we have to be prepared.”
“I understand Mr. President,” said Bingham. “As you requested, we have prepared a pre-emptive strike plan for offensive kinetic operations against Iran. This plan is updated on a continuously based upon DIA’s latest intelligence of their force capabilities. Please open your folder and I will summarize what we feel are the key points and what is the most likely operational scenario. He paused as Acosta put on his reading glasses and opened the folder. “We’re calling it ‘Operation Northern Wind’.” Acosta took a sip of coffee as he looked through the contents. “First off Mr. President, I want to say that our own forces will be augmented by NATO and possibly non-NATO regional assets in the area. But should we have to go it alone, at least initially, I will also go over that scenario.