by Jim Wilson
“Mac Dill tomorrow?”
The DFBI said, “Golf?” That was a code for a 0900 hours meeting if it is okay.
“That’s fine.”
The DCIA had earned his stripes by telling the future. He was a certifiable genius, and assembled tidbits of information into understandable images .He examined facts and questions and painted a picture. Something was about to happen and he feared it was going to happen in America. I must kill Meslem Ali and capture Henry alive. I know he has plans and I can feel it. God, I hope we have time. They are not invincible, but they need to make a mistake. We need to be ready for that mistake. I can feel it in my bones.
In four hours, his plane landed at Mac Dill. It was 2200 hours local time and the General met him. They exchanged greetings and headed for their meeting room, where the others were waiting. The Group was almost ready for Sam and Bill’s trip to Tehran. They thought that was the reason for the presence of the DCIA.
The meeting room had three televisions and one was on the Fox News network. The station released an alert, “There were two massive explosions in Kansas and we are waiting for details.” The General and the DCIA entered the room, but no one noticed the announcement. The Major turned off the set.
The DCIA opened the meeting, “Have you developed a plan yet?”
The Major answered, “We have made arrangements for Sam and Bill to fly from Monrovia, Liberia to Tehran as part of a Liberian delegation. A private car will take them to a safe house in Tehran with clothing and weapons. They will dress as police officers, and walk to Meslem Ali’s apartment building and wait until he appears.”
The DCIA asked, “How will they get out?”
Sam answered, “We will return to the safe house and wait for orders.”
The Major added, “We have an underground source to get them to Iraq.”
Foreboding danger strikes the mind
Going quickly down the trail
Flying just to darkness finds
The best laid plans will soon derail
Chapter 15
Salina, Kansas is a small town and its people thought of themselves as isolated from big news events. They had their problems, but they normally understood them. The peaceful neighborhood was shocked by the bombing. It was not a small crime. The bomb disintegrated six homes and damaged most for two thousand feet in all directions. It was a big crime.
One hour later, cable news reported that a neighborhood in Topeka, Kansas had exploded. The explosion had destroyed several homes and left dozens still burning. Every state and federal agency with any jurisdiction mobilized for action. The State’s early death counts listed thirty-seven dead in Salina and eighty-three in Topeka. Half-acre lots separated the homes in Salina, but the Topeka neighborhood was 1940-style wooden row homes. The explosion leveled many homes and burning debris rained down on a large area. The fire was spreading and still taking lives. FEMA estimated that the total deaths in Topeka could be over two hundred and fifty.
The Major and Sam met the early morning flight of the DFBI and escorted him to the meeting room. The DFBI considered going directly to Topeka, Kansas, but the coincidence of the explosion and the request for the meeting by the DCIA made the trip to Mac Dill impossible to ignore. The Base Security Officer alerted The Group of the bombings shortly after the DCIA arrived, and they were meeting when the DFBI arrived early in the morning. The DCIA greeted his friend, the DFBI, and said, “I need to understand where all the scenarios take us. Meslem Ali is at the top of my list.”
The General briefed the DFBI, “We know Meslem Ali is involved in the attacks on Kansas, but we have no evidence to back up our position. Ali claimed he owned businesses in America, but we cannot find them. We know that he had a part in the Tampa Mall bombing. I would like to talk to him, but that is impossible. We must kill him.”
The CIA agent replied, “I have been thinking about our plan to dress Sam and Bill as Iranian police officers. Two additional layers of personnel augment the Iranian police force. They add a local layer called political enforcers. They weed out unreliable police officers. They also have a third layer that they recruit from Lebanon. They are all members of the Lebanese Hezbollah. This group is a well-paid force that answers to Iranian religious leaders. They call them Hezbollah enforcers, and they act in situations considered too dirty for the police.
This Hezbollah enforcer squad has no emotional attachment to the police or to the average Iranian. They are well-armed, very large men, who wear uniforms that look a little like the Seals’ black ninja suits. They patrol political areas in pairs, and Iranians give them a lot of space because they respond to situations that require force. The Iranian police will not approach them. Sam and Bill could pose as members of the Hezbollah enforcers. It would be best if they arrived in Iran from Lebanon, but if we can get them to the safe house they should be able to penetrate deep enough to reach Ali.”
The General said, “We can handle the details if all of you agree to proceed with the project.”
The DFBI responded, “I am flying to Topeka in a few minutes and my briefing on Kansas is in four hours. Can we meet again here tomorrow morning?” They all agreed to meet in the morning and the Major escorted the DFBI to his aircraft.
*****
Malcolm was in his office in Tampa, five miles from Mac Dill. He knew Bryan the done the bombings, but did not understand why. He thought, I could call Kansas Truck, but they might monitor my call. For now, I will do nothing. A strange feeling engulfed him. Up until this time, it was all theoretical. Jihad is certainly my goal, but it is in the future. He just forced my hand, and made the year of peace a little shorter. I will wait for a week, then go to Atlanta and talk to my clerics. Malcolm was an executive and, like other executives, he needed input from his managers. He considered his options. If the police question Bryan, he must die. I will make it look like suicide. Yes, he must kill himself if they suspect him. I can blow him up, but if he gets away with this, I must move jihad ahead.
*****
The Group formalized the plan to kill Ali. The CIA information center reported Ali was in Tehran. They agreed, Sam and Bill should not investigate the Kansas bombings, but only focus on killing Ali. The CIA decided the men should not enter Iran from Lebanon. Instead, they would be part of a Liberian delegation. To ensure that Sam and Bill were disguised properly, the CIA special services team found six detailed photographs of Hezbollah Fighters. Like the men in the photographs, Bill and Sam would carry Russian weapons and wear uniforms created from materials that came from Lebanon.
The two men entered Africa at Ghana and flew to Buchanan, Liberia in an unmarked military aircraft commonly used in Iran. They joined the Liberian delegation for the flight to Tehran. A Liberian government official who was also a CIA operative, arranged Sam and Bill’s passage as part of a special delegation, but he had no knowledge of their mission. He informed everyone on the French-made Falcon Jet, “The two big men are Hezbollah enforcers catching a ride to Tehran. They just finished a dangerous mission somewhere in Africa.” The Liberian CIA operative traveled with them on the plane.
Sam and Bill spoke Lebanese and Bill could speak Farsi with a Lebanese accent. They would soon learn if the quality of their identification and uniforms would pass muster with real Hezbollah enforcers. Bill asked Sam, “Maybe, if we tell them we must prevent trouble at the apartment center, they will deliver us to the best location to do our job.”
Sam answered, “It is life or death. Be bold, order do not ask.”
The pilot and copilot were on board as Sam, Bill, twelve Liberians, and two Iranians boarded the Falcon. Sam sat in the front right seat. The Liberian official that had arranged their flight sat next to him. Bill sat mid-plane at the left wing window exit.
The tower radioed the pilot, “Taxi to the south end of runway ‘two-north’, and wait for instruction.” This was his first trip to the Liberian airport, and he had used runway ‘one-west’ to land. He was an experienced Falcon pilot, and not concerned that i
t was six hundred pounds overweight. He did not know that runway ‘two-north’ was one thousand feet shorter than his chart showed.
The Russian developer built the unlighted concrete runway to his bid specifications except that it was eight thousand feet long and not the required nine thousand feet. To improve safety he compressed the soil and added one thousand feet of grass to both ends. His innovative design netted him one million Euros in extra profit. The airport manager noticed the shortfall, but and the developer told him, “I know just how much to steal and keep it safe.” He gave the manager twenty thousand Euros for leaving the incorrect information on the airport landing instructions sheet.
The runway maintenance crew used a special rocky mixture of soil to fill the grooves in the grass that aircraft wheels made when they used the grassy areas. The shortfall was common knowledge, and heavy jets started their takeoff in the grass, but the grass offered slower starts and longer stops.
The pilot followed the tower’s directions, and the fully fuelled jet taxied to the runway. He staged for takeoff at the beginning of the concrete, and he and the copilot ran through their checklist. He could see the field at the end of the runway and told the copilot, “We are six hundred pounds heavy, but I have plenty of room.”
“We are fine.” The copilot answered, but he knew the airport ended at the field’s edge, and an eight-foot fence protected the property. A two-lane highway paralleled the fence, and on the other side of the road was the Buchanan, Town Center. “Going long is dangerous.”
Sam had unusual feelings about this mission. He thought back to the first time Bill had come into his office. Our teacher student relationship is now a partnership. We are going into the belly of the beast, and are well prepared. Something could go wrong, but we are ready. The General told me that my job is to keep Bill alive until I thought he was ready to go solo. He is ready, Sam told himself. This was just another mission. At the same time, he knew that an unusual feeling of dread filled in his mind. For the first time in his adult memory, he said the “Our Farther” prayer, and the feeling went away. He started to envision their reception in Tehran.
Bill was in his seat. Sam and Bill looked like very dangerous men. They wore short dyed black beards, ninja Hezbollah enforcer uniforms, and carried 9mm Russian automatics on their right hips. They placed their AK47s in the overhead binds. Through his window, Bill saw a gray pickup truck heading for the plane. He pulled the pistol from his holster, cocked it, and returned the pistol to the holster.
The pilot opened the passenger door for a real Hezbollah enforcer dressed in his ninja gear. Sam prepared for a gunfight. He saluted Sam, then Bill, and calmly took an empty seat at the very rear of the aircraft. The pilot returned to his seat and the tower gave permission for takeoff.
The pilot rolled out the Falcon Jet at full power and told the copilot, “The newest passenger added about two hundred fifty pounds. That puts us eight hundred fifty over and we may need some of the field.”
The copilot was also a very experienced pilot, “We should be okay.” Halfway down the runway he changed his mind, “Can you stop?”
“No,” the pilot told the copilot, “We only need twelve more knots and we’re going too fast to stop. We can carry the fence if you raise the gear as soon as we leave the ground.”
Sam was thinking about his ex-wife. I have changed, and this will be my last mission. I will retire if she will take me back. Bill was thinking about the mission, and decided to talk to the ninja when they landed.
Neither Sam nor Bill could see the end of the runway, but felt the transition from pavement to dirt. Both of the pilots pushed the throttles hard forward, and the copilot had his hand on the lever to raise the landing gear. The copilot felt the front wheels lift and tried to retract the landing gear, but in two seconds, they reached the fence. The pilot calmly said. “We are dead. The rear wheels are going to hit the fence at one hundred sixty two miles per hour.”
It was a good fence, but not the correct fence. The installation specifications required breakaway fencing on two-inch base poles anchored in sixteen inches of cement every twelve feet. The contractor used standard fence, and concreted every other base pole in eight inches of sandy concrete. The fence netted the rear wheels, the plane continued forward, and pulled the fence from the ground. Forward momentum took it across the road separating the airfield from the Buchanan, Town Center.
The craft rotated nose down, bounced hard, and broke into three sections. The center section of fuselage contained the wheels and wing. The long ribbon of fence that tangled the wheels stopped its forward movement in the middle of the road. The tail section with both engines rotated into the air and separated from the center section. The nose section broke loose and flipped end over end. The front and rear sections smashed through the first line of Town Center buildings.
When the nose of plane hit the ground Sam, the pilots, a few Liberians, and debris mixed into a mass of unrecognizable objects. The rear section and the engines burst into flames when it separated from the center section. The fire consumed several Liberians and the real Hezbollah enforcer. The center section trapped by the fence sat motionless on the highway. The fuel cell in the right wing ruptured and erupted into flames.
The airfield and the Town Center shared a modern French-trained fire department. Several fire and rescue trucks arrived within minutes. A fire truck sprayed foam on the burning wing of the center section, and extinguished the fire. Two more trucks fought building fires caused by the front and rear sections. Rescue workers entered the open fuselage of the center section and removed three unconscious men.
The American Embassy used local Liberians to log every flight to or from the Buchanan Airport. They recorded all the details of the accident and the embassy sent a report to the CIA at Langley, Virginia. A CIA analyst viewed the crash information, wrote a short summary, and marked his report “no American interest.” His report noted that no Americans were on board the flight to Iran.
It interested Iran. Liberian diplomats alerted the Iranians of the accident, and the condition of the three living passengers. Iran dispatched a medical aircraft based in Senegal, Africa to transport the survivors to Tehran. Buchanan International Airport transmitted the passenger manifest of the flight to Iran, and it did not include the six hundred pounds of American hitchhikers and their gear. Doctors at Buchanan General Hospital stabilized the unconscious men. Iranian doctors arrived and diagnosed their conditions as severe brain trauma. They administered a drug that kept them in a comatose state, transferred their patients to the aircraft, and flew five thousand miles to Tehran.
The DCIA’s office had three televisions always tuned to various cable news stations, and the Director watched an alert on BBC. They reported the Liberian air crash, its Iranian destination, and that three survived. The DCIA called the General, “Get someone there now!”
The General replied, “Secret or not my men always comes home. The Group will go to Buchanan, and return their bodies to America.”
The DCIA alerted the Secretary of State of American interests in the crash. He notified the President of Liberia that the United States would assist them in the identification of the bodies. Liberians based identification on physical facts, but the Americans used DNA. The bodies were not recognizable, so they accepted the American assistance. The General dispatched a team from Ghana to hold and isolate the bodies. The Group with samples of Sam and Bill’s DNA and the Hero Recovery Team flew to Liberia. The Group hoped for the best, but the first body tested was Sam’s.
The HR team processed the remaining remains bodies, and none matched Bill’s DNA. The Secretary of State called the President of Liberia, “We have identified the body of an American citizen, and he is going back to his America family. Our Air Force HR Team will continue their identification duties with your remaining victims.”
The Group had a meeting before returning to Mac Dill. The General spoke. “It is possible that Bill survived. They transported three victims to Tehran.
The most logical conclusion is that they took him.”
The CIA agent questioned, “Why did they take Bill to Tehran?”
The burial of one bring life to another
The testing complete to others dismay
Alone in the world will fight to recover
And finish what’s started by seizing the day
Chapter 16
The General handled Sam’s affairs. His ex-wife was as close to family as Sam had. Sam was a special man who gave his life for his country. He was not a person of property. He owned nothing, not even the clothing on his back. All he had was a bank account with $2,967,897 in it that was designated to go to his ex-wife. He had no other living family, only the Seals that he had trained and had fought alongside him.
Sam would be the first to tell a new Seal that the death of a solder must be respected. An unwritten rule requires soldiers to rate life in battle as a community and if they fear the loss of their life excessively they are in the wrong business. It is the bold that wins and Sam was bold. In twenty years Captain Sam Greer would be remembered by the Seals that he trained. They may not remember his last name, but they would remember being in his shadow. His dangers would be their dangers and his victories would be their victories. A little of Sam would live in all of the Seals that he trained.
His last unit consisted of 80 men and they were all notified to travel to a special service at Mac Dill. The Group and the Seals were assembled as the Air Force Special Identification Team landed.
The Major called the Seals to attention. The flag-draped casket was gently set on the tarmac and the General said a few words, “Sam needed to break some eggs. What do Seals do?”
They knew this question and they knew the answer. “Win.”
You could hear the emotions build in the General’s voice, “What do Seals do?”
Again the Seals answered, “Win.”
The General turned to the casket and saluted, “Who’s coming back?”