by Jon Sedran
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
By sixteen-hundred hours the next day, radiation levels had dropped enough for Israeli Army Sergeant Yossi Sharett to slowly maneuver the one-ton army 4x4 truck through the hilly, now deserted streets of eastern Haifa. His passenger, Israeli Army Major Ari Katz struggled to shoot videos while looking through his protective mask and respirator. Neither man tried to speak. The video stream was being sent back in real time via satellite to Israeli leadership and shared with the Pentagon. A few hours ago this had been a picturesque neighborhood on the outskirts of Haifa, lined with houses and patios that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea. Now burned out structures, many still smoldering, were everywhere. As the men continued on they noticed how some houses in low areas were practically untouched, save for some broken windows, while others on more exposed hilltops, had only their blackened foundations remaining. A brown acrid smoke hung in the air. They passed a burned out car, its occupants charred beyond recognition, but still sitting upright. The scene resembled a set from a Hollywood disaster movie, but this was very real.
Thankfully, the hellish device had detonated to the east of the major Haifa metropolitan area and on-shore breezes had blown much of the radiation away from the city’s center, but the devastation was still large. Many of the critically injured had been removed to hospitals as far away as Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Crews in protective gear struggled to free persons trapped in collapsed structures.
Katz carefully monitored the radiation detection equipment mounted in the truck, the digital readout creeping upward the further they went. As they crested a small hill Katz held up his hand motioning for Sharett to stop and pull over. “Too much debris on the road…this is as close as we can get,” he struggled to say through his respirator mask.
Sharett pulled over to the shoulder of the road and shut the engine off.
“I will have to walk from here sergeant, I better get the rest of the gear on.”
The two men got out of the cab and walked around to the back of the vehicle. They climbed up inside the modified camper shell, closing the door tightly behind them. It was built specially for this type of mission and had its own air purification system. They were now about one-half mile from the outer edge of the primary blast zone.
Sharett again checked radiation levels. “They are very high major, you better be out in five minutes.” Katz sat down and removed his mask. “I am walking into hell, he thought, as Sharett helped him don his protective suit, including a helmet with re-breathing equipment and boots. He finished by putting tape on every seam that could possibly leak, and then gave the suit one last look over. He handed the major a radiation detector and a backpack containing a small metal case and small shovel. The pack also included a three sealable canisters and a cloth bag lined with lead foil. “Good to go, major…five minutes,” he repeated, holding up five fingers on his hand. Katz nodded, climbed down the steps and started off on foot down the road.
The blast site of a nuclear detonation can reveal much about the origin of the materials used in the device. The plutonium and uranium used as fissile material in bombs are typically combined with other metals in varying amounts into an alloy. Consequently, the fissile material manufactured in one country likely differs in content from material originating in another country. Although the tremendous heat and power of the blast vaporized the bomb, a sample of the soil taken at the blast site would yield valuable information. Israeli and world leaders desperately needed this information as quickly as possible, and Katz would have to get the samples.
The major’s day-to-day army duties included supervising an explosives ordinance disposal team. But his other duties were done in the Negev desert away from prying eyes in a subterranean concrete-lined room measuring sixty feet by sixty feet The room held a dozen special devices and was connected by a one-kilometer long tunnel to the Dimona nuclear reactor site. He was very familiar with nuclear weapons. Katz carefully made his way around the broken blocks and splintered boards which littered the roadway, so this is what Hell looks like, he thought. He was glad he had no family living near here, but felt deeply for his fellow Israelis who were killed, or would suffer horribly for years to come because of this attack. All around him were scorched remains of structures, trees with no branches and blackened bark, charred bodies, burned out structures and vehicles. It was very much like the pictures of Hiroshima he had scene in school books. The readings on the radiation detector were now so high he could get no closer. He set the case down, opened the lid and removed the small metal shovel. He laid out a sheet of plastic on the ground and placed the three open canisters on it. Then he scooped soil samples into each one until it was half-full. Next, he screwed the lids on and placed them into the lead foil lined bag and sealed it tight. He carefully put the bag back into the backpack and carried it back to the truck. There, Sharett wearing gloves, placed the pack in yet another lead foil lined bag and sealed it tight.
* * * *
In the White House Situation Room, the President’s National Security Advisor, the Secretaries of Defense and State, the Director of National Intelligence and the Joint Chiefs, had also remained through the night and were anxiously watching the wall monitors and reading the latest situation reports and e-mails which were pouring in. The military commanders were in constant contact with U.S. forces around the globe and getting readiness status updates.
The world time clocks on the wall showed it was now five pm in Israel and Jordan. The situation clock showed eighteen and a half hours since the two events were detected and confirmed.
“Mr. President, our Mediterranean naval and air forces are at DEFCON Two now,” reported Defense Secretary Simpson. “The Fifth Fleet is also at DEFCON Two.”
Acosta nodded. “I just got off the phone with Russian President Koslov. They will keep their forces in the Middle East at their readiness condition four, for now. They want to see proof of who did this.” said Acosta looking around the table. “Proof, Goddamn it, we need solid proof Iran was behind this!” He slammed a report down on the desk.
“We’re on it, Mr. President,” Alby assured him.
“The Syrians are telling the world the Israelis did it,” said Acosta. “They blew up part of their own city as cover. They did it to give us a reason to attack Syria and Iran…they’re complete idiots.”
“Mr. President we have teams arriving soon at both locations, they’ll bring back proof of where the fissile materials originated,” said Alby.
“The Israelis have already dispatched a team of their own,” Kragen informed them.
“If we can show the materials originated in Iran, it’s a done deal,” said Acosta. “But what if the materials originated in Pakistan, or North Korea? Does that mean they did it?” he asked, sarcastically.
“Mr. President, we have sent in our best people. They will turn over every stone until they find out who was responsible,” the CIA Director assured him.
“Who else could have done this?” Acosta wondered aloud.
“Hezbollah is strangely silent,” said Kragen.
Acosta looked around the room. “You all know where I stand…I want a limited, but highly effective kinetic response once we have the proof…we need proof damn it. And the situation has got to be contained before it spreads and cannot be contained, and all hell breaks loose.”
It was at that point the Director of National Intelligence remembered the Pakistani nuke materials transfer documents and the report Lowe had forwarded to him; he placed a call.
Lowe picked up the receiver and inserted his crypto card. “General Lowe speaking.”
“General, what’s your confidence level in that Pakistani nuke materials transfer?” asked Marshall.
“Very high Director, but we all know in this business there are usually no one-hundred percent certainties.”
Marshall though for a moment. “Let’s get you over here, and bring your Deputy Director and all the intelligence you have on this,” he said.
“We’ll be ther
e in thirty minutes and we’ll bring everything we have.”
“Mr. President, General Lowe from DIA is on his way here. He’s bringing a report with important information about the events and a likely Pakistani nuke materials connection,” reported Marshall, adding, “Apparently his Deputy Director went to Pakistan and India was able to confirm the theft of a shipment of highly enriched uranium several years back and a likely Iranian connection.”
[Add CONNECTION DETAILS]
Acosta nodded, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Nancy, I want you to call the Russian ambassador. Tell him we are planning a military response and want to know if they will assist us…or at least stay out of the damn way.”
* * * *
Hezbollah Commander Marid sat with a certain satisfaction as watched the news in his small command center near Beirut. His closest subordinates were all congratulating him. But, he knew his phone would ring shortly and he was certain the call would not be friendly. It came a few minutes later.
“Commander Marid, what the hell happened?” asked the voice on the other end. Marid recognized it as Hezbollah spiritual leader Sheik Saeed Hassan al-Salim. “Did you change our plans without consulting me?” he demanded to know.
“The crew must have gotten lost, there were unexpected clouds in the area,” replied Marid, somewhat apologetically, adding, “I think maybe it was Allah’s will, after all the Jordanians have been helping the al Qaida terrorists infiltrate Syria and kill our people.”
“If this leads back here to us it will turn Arab opinion strongly against us,” cautioned al-Salim. “And the Zionists and their American allies are sure to retaliate forcefully.”
“The planes and their crews are dust. They cannot prove we had any part in this,” Marid responded, confidently.
“I hope so. None the less, we should activate all units, and prepare for an all-out attack,” directed al-Salim.
“Already in progress…all our rockets are almost ready for firing.”
“Wait for my orders,” directed al-Salim. Then he hung up.
* * * *
“Madam Secretary, I was expecting your call,” answered the ambassador, picking up the phone in the Russian Embassy in Washington D.C.
“Mr. Ambassador,” replied Kragen, “Things are not looking good. We are going to ask the U.N. Security Council for a resolution authorizing force to be used against Iran.”
“Madam Secretary, I’ve been authorized to tell you we will veto any UN security resolution condemning Iran for the attacks or authorizing force, unless clear proof is presented of their involvement in those attacks. Over the past year we have signed several cooperative agreements with Iran to share technology, build nuclear plants, and improve their infrastructure. I cannot believe they would do such a stupid thing as participate in these attacks.”
“I understand Mr. Ambassador. We will have the evidence shortly for the whole world to see. We do have an urgent request for you.”
“And that is?”
We need for you to remove all Russian advisors from Iran. Especially those at the various nuclear sites,” said Kragen.
“That is a very ominous request Madam Secretary. However, I will relay it to Moscow. It will take time to get a response. Again, we ask your country to refrain from launching an attack without firm proof.”
“Mr. Ambassador, we know both planes took off from Beirut, which means Hezbollah was almost certainly involved. And can you possibly believe Hezbollah would act without Tehran’s tacit approval…and involvement?”
“I will relay your request, goodbye,” said the ambassador.
* * * *
Kaviani knew it was just a question of time before bombs starting dropping on Iran. Throughout the next day he met in Ministry Of Defense building in Tehran with the Guardian Council and his top military commanders. He was doing his best to prepare Iran for what would almost certainly be attacks from Israel and the Western alliance.
“Ayatollah Kaviani, we have mobilized all our forces in anticipation of an attack by the Zionists and the Americans and their western allies,” reported Rabiei. “Our air defense forces have gone to highest alert level and we are prepared to repel any attack.”
“They will likely try to knock out all our military forces in one massive first strike,” surmised Kaviani.
“Yes, and as I briefed the Council earlier, we will stand down some of our forces, and wait for their attacks to die down,” replied Rabiei. “Then we will launch devastating counter-strikes against their most valuable assets. General Namazi has dispatched a contingent of his Kuds forces to Damascus. They are in the air already and will reinforce the two-thousand troops which are in place.
Javadi sat quietly listening. Did I do the right thing? he wondered.
“Ayatollah, what if the Zionists launch nuclear tipped missiles against us?” asked Rabiei.
“I cannot answer that general, but I am confident Allah will ensure that we prevail.
“Yes,” said Rabiei, seemingly reassuring himself.
“Very good everyone, now we wait for the Americans to make the next move,” Kaviani said. He turned his chair around to watch Al Jazeera on the wall monitor and sat wondering, Did others not agree the patience I advocated in the war against the Zionists? What if they acted on their own? But, we do not yet have enough fissile material. How could they?
* * * *
General Lowe and Maddy stepped out of the limo as it pulled up to the White House. It was hard to tell who was more anxious, the normally calm Lowe or the over-achieving Maddy.
Lowe gave Maddy final instructions as he reviewed his notes, “Tell them about what you learned in Pakistan and India. Include all the info on the special material transfers, and the Krytron tubes…and so on.”
“Okay,” Maddy replied nervously.
“I’ve prepared short executive summaries for the President and Security Council members; then you can fill in the details,” Lowe directed.
Maddy sighed. “Okay, I have all my notes with me,” she assured him. “We can’t let this turn into World War III, just can’t,” she mumbled as they entered the White House. They were quickly escorted through security and down to the Situation Room where the President was waiting.
“Mr. President, the DIA Director General Lowe and Madeline Teagan, the acting Deputy Director are here to bring us up to date on Iran’s possible nuke weapons program,” Marshall announced.
“Possible?” asked the President in a loud voice, rolling his eyes. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
The JCS Chairman glanced up at Lowe, and then returned his attention to his laptop screen.
Lowe and Maddy approached the conference table. Lowe set his attaché case down on a clear spot on the table, opened it and removed some documents. He handed copies to everyone seated at the table and waited a few moments. Acosta read through the document then looked around the room. “Okay, everybody listen up,” he yelled over the din of the WH Command Center. The room quickly became quiet. “General Lowe and DIA Deputy Director Teagan are going to bring us up to date on what they have learned about Iran’s possible nuke weapons program. Which, I might add at this point, looks much more than just possible.” The President exhaled loudly. “Go ahead, general.”
“Mr. President, Deputy Director Teagan and her staff have been focusing on the Iranian suspected nuke bomb program for a number of years. While we have every confidence Iran is secretly enriching uranium to weapons grade levels, we also have evidence the materials in the two bombs likely originated in Pakistan, not Iran.”
The President cleared his throat and looked up at Lowe, but said nothing.
Lowe continued, “We have evidence a shipment of weapons grade uranium was stolen from Pakistan by Iranian operatives about fifteen years ago. It was likely put into an underground storage location in Iran.”
Acosta interrupted, “Is there clear evidence, general? We have heard this story many times before,” said an impatient Acosta.
“Mr. P
resident, we have the Pakistani storage facility material inventories, including the doctored ones… which have all been authenticated. We also have photos of the vehicles after they were ambushed, and the exact date, time location where it happened.”
Bingham spoke up. “A paper trail, but no eye witnesses willing to come forward?”
“The Pakistani who provided the documents and photos may be convinced to come forward,” replied Lowe.
“Continue general,” requested Acosta.
For the next ten minutes Maddy and Lowe presented their evidence of the theft, and suggested how the weapons might have been assembled, as well as information on Iran’s covert uranium enrichment activities.
“So, let me make sure of I have this straight,” said Acosta. “You’re telling me the Iranian Republican Guards took possession of the Pakistani U-235 and kept it hidden for years. At some point, a rogue group in their government secretly used it to fabricate two crude bombs and gave them to Hezbollah to deliver?” Maddy nodded; Lowe stood motionless. “At the same time, while most of Iran’s leaders have been unaware of any of this, they themselves have been secretly pursuing high-level enrichment and methods to make smaller nukes which can be carried by their missiles.”
Lowe cleared his throat. “That’s our assessment at this point Mr. President,” trying to sound confident, but figuring his career was over anyway.
Acosta sat silently for a few moments, and then looked at Marshall. “Cabot?”
“It is plausible. All the pieces fit together,” he replied. He thought for a few moments and then asked, “But how can you be sure the Iranians didn’t just get two fully assembled nukes from Pakistan?”
“We cannot be completely sure,” Maddy admitted.
Acosta considered what he had just heard. “It’s crazy…but not that crazy,” he said. The room was silent. “Please keep after it; we need the location of the bomb assembly facility.