by Tom Haase
They made unimpeded progress to a point halfway up. There he turned around to check that the two with the RPGs were in position and signaled them to get ready. Faisal waved his hands warning the men to move away from the direct line of fire of the rocket propelled grenades.
When all were ready, the rockets streaked toward the house. In less than a second, the missiles went through the two windows on the back of the house and exploded.
One rocket entered the control room where all the security controls were. The explosion destroyed everything in the room. The second rocket detonated in an empty room. The force of the detonations shattered all the windows in the house. A large fireball burst out from the front windows and rolled up the front façade of the house.
“Move. Get going. We have to get up there before they can react,” Faisal shouted. His heart pounded with excitement and he gasped for breath. He kept yelling for his men to move forward. They fired indiscriminately and at no visible targets around the building. They reached the top of the hill in a disorganized formation and converged in a haphazard manner on the front of the house, weapons pointed at the entrance door. One of the men started firing into the house and the others followed his lead. They emptied their magazines and started to reload.
* * *
From his position on top of the adjacent building, al-Hanbali watched this pathetic attempt on his house. He could see the attackers had failed to do any reconnaissance before launching this half-assed attack. If they had, the attack would have come from the higher ground behind him and not up a hill. No wonder the Israeli Army had inflicted so many casualties against these amateurs.
Al-Hanbali looked to his left to check if any of the attackers had made their way to the workshop. It looked all clear. Basam would be there, hiding. As he looked down at the attackers gathered around the front of the house, he decided the moment had arrived to initiate his own retaliation against the Hezbollah fighters.
The firing of his AK-47 into the group of attackers signaled his men to open fire. Instantly, four claymores detonated as prearranged. Thousands of pieces of steel the size of small pellets ripped through the Palestinians at a speed of hundreds of miles per hour.
Total carnage enveloped the attackers who moved in front of the house. The defenders of al-Hanbali’s house fired hundreds of rounds into the attackers and then turned their attention to the two at the bottom of the hill. They let loose a fusillade of bullets into the position from where the RPG’s had originated. Three of al-Hanbali’s men jumped from the roof and rushed down the hill. They found the bodies punctured with multiple bullet wounds. The ground around the corpses now soaked with blood.
They raised their hands, thumbs up in an all-clear signal. Al-Hanbali looked down from the roof at the bodies of the dead around his house. Anger raged in his heart. All of these bastards had to be killed. Every one of them. They had tried to kill him and take his weapons.
He took a series of deep breaths and the adrenaline from the firefight ebbed. Where was Faisal? Looking at the carnage in front of his house, he didn’t see Faisal among the slain. Where was he? He scanned the area—no Faisal.
* * *
Faisal had slipped away when the group had reached the top of the hill. He had noticed the separate building a short distance away and thought it might be his real target. Reaching the small building unobserved, he hid behind it as the firefight raged at the main house. After a moment, he looked around the corner and witnessed the massacre of his men. He felt no emotion on their loss, they were expendable. He needed to preserve himself and to put distance between himself and this debacle. Faisal went inside the building seeking a hiding place, attempting to gain time to plan the next move, and let himself escape from this trap. He did not see or hear anyone in the building. Tewfik’s men were all concentrating on the slaughter. No matter what, he had to get out of this area as soon as he could. Right now he would hide and let the dust settle. They would not look for him since they had no idea he had arrived. He wasn’t supposed to be here for some time.
He crouched as he moved to the front entrance, pushed the door open, and held the silenced 9mm pistol out in front. The two technical assistants who had worked with Yuri on the assembly of the weapons were standing huddled in the corner consumed with fear from all of the weapons fire coming from the house. Sweeping right to left with the outstretched weapon, he saw them and fired two rounds into each, and lowered his weapon. Turning around, he pushed the door closed.
“Freeze. Don’t even breathe. Don’t turn around. Put both hands in the air. Now, you piece of shit. Now, or I’ll kill you just for the fun of it.” Basam pointed the AK-47 at Faisal as he stepped to the edge of the lead-shielded wall that separated the small section he hid in from the rest of the room.
“I’m here to protect the weapons from those men out there,” said Faisal. “They came to steal it and I got here just as they attacked the house. I’m your friend and we must get to Tewfik.”
“If you move a muscle you die. Slowly drop your gun. Now!” Basam stayed behind the wall. “I’m behind a concrete wall and have an AK-47 on full automatic pointing at your back. Go ahead, do something stupid.”
Faisal dropped the weapon.
“Now get on the floor facedown,” Basam ordered.
“You are making a mistake,” Faisal feebly said while he complied with the instruction.
Basam stayed in his position and raised his weapon to the ceiling and fired a three round burst. Faisal could not use that moment to escape being prone on the floor with a closed door in front of him.
Up on the rooftop, al-Hanbali heard the gunfire from the workshop. He climbed down from the roof and raced toward the building, waving his arm for the others to follow. When he burst into the building, the door slammed into Faisal’s head in his prone position causing him to scream.
Tewfik pointed the gun at the prone figure and kicked the handgun out of the way. He saw Basam had a rifle pointed at the prone body and the terrified face of Yuri peeking around the lead containment wall.
“Who the hell is this?” Yuri asked before he saw the face of Faisal.
“That is the leader of the traitors who attacked our house and the ones intending to steal our weapon,” Tewfik said.
“Tewfik, do not say such a thing. I came to warn you of this attack,” Faisal protested, “I’m here to help you as I promised in Beirut.”
“You’re a liar. I saw a close-up of you on the video camera. We watched your approach. You were in the cars with the attackers. You’re here to steal the weapons,” Tewfik said as he waved his pistol at Faisal’s head.
“No, no. I came to help you.”
Al-Hanbali shot him in the left leg, just below the knee.
“Why did you attack me?”
“Okay, okay. We need the bomb to attack Israel. They are our enemy. You have the means we need to get our land back. We can bring Israel to its knees with an atomic weapon and the threat to use more.”
Tewfik put his foot on Faisal’s head and said, “You moron. Your little battle has for decades embarrassed the rest of the Arab world and held back our rise to power. You blithering idiots are after the impossible. You lost the war. That is what happens to losers. Now, you are intervening in our goal to bring down the entire western civilization in order for Islam to conquer the world. You would destroy everything by your actions. You think I care for your little petty grievance? You are trying to kill Israel, the flea on the dog. I plan to destroy the dog. You can’t understand that. No dog, no flea.” Tewfik walked to the back of the room.
“Out, everyone out,” he ordered.
After they left, al-Hanbali walked over to Faisal and leaned over his prostrate body. He placed the barrel of his pistol against the head of the traitor and said, “You’re the worst form of vermin. You lied to an Islamic brother who treated you as an equal to achieve the goal we all professed. Kemal gave his life for this end. He died honorably, you will not.”
He stared at Faisal w
ith cold black eyes. His pistol remained steady and without any sense of regret, he squeezed the trigger. The weapon recoiled, while hurling the projectile into Faisal’s brain.
28
Office of the Director, National Security Agency
28 OCTOBER – 4:00 P.M.
"Admiral, you mean to tell me you knew about this and didn't contact me immediately?" the infuriated National Security Adviser, Kent Avery, asked in an icy tone.
"Sir, I called your office and left a message for you and requested you immediately call me back," the admiral responded.
"I think you deliberately did not attempt to get in contact with me as soon as possible so that you could have a military operation conducted before anybody at the National Security Council even knew it was taking place. You have my cell number. Why didn’t you call it?"
"Sir, you may think what you wish, but I did my duty and requested you or your office get back to me immediately. I regret that you took so long to respond to my urgent message. As far as any operation is concerned, you will have to talk to the DIA. I’m not up to the minute with all that they may be doing. On the matter at hand, do you wish me to come and brief you and the National Security Council, or the President for that matter, on what we found in this intercept?" the admiral asked.
The admiral knew he was in the right. He had done everything by the book, yet had stretched the legal ramifications of his action to the maximum. He now hoped the DIA team would conduct a successful operation, and quick, before this entire episode grew to proportions that could not be contained within the classified area of the military or the executive branch.
"Yes, I expect you to be here within the hour to brief the National Security Council." Kent Avery summarily ended the call.
The admiral picked up the red phone and dialed Mary Jean's personal number at the center.
"Hello, Mary Jean, Kidd here. We got us a pissed off National Security Adviser. I know that worries you to the maximum extent possible." He laughed, "And I want to find out from you exactly what you know at this point in time. I still think we can stall enough for your people to get the job done without getting hair in our teeth. I have been ordered to come to the National Security Council to give them a full briefing within the next hour. Is there any way you can tell me what is going to happen during that time, or in the near future?"
"I'm hopeful we'll have good news for you momentarily, Admiral. We've the team observing what we’re almost positive is the location of the bombs. There seems to be an internal struggle going on between different terrorist organizations for the possession of those weapons. One group is now attacking the other. I can only guess that there has been a falling out over use or control of the weapons. We’re in no position to intervene until their internal battle is completed. I should know in a few minutes as Captain Higgins is observing the attack at this time." Mary Jean continued to brief the admiral on everything she knew on the current situation around al-Hanbali's house.
"Mary Jean, is that the same Higgins you had me use on the recent delivery to Saudi?”
“The same. He is starting to act like a leader. He took the initiative to seek out the location of the weapons. In time, we’ll have a real asset in that man,” Mary Jean said.
“You know that State is going to have a conniption over this. I think the best thing we can do is insist that these are enemy forces operating against the United States and our military is engaging them. It is unfortunate that this has international ramifications in a friendly country. But we are in pursuit of an enemy with a weapon that can put nuclear fear into every American and every Saudi. Once our people know that terrorists have a nuclear weapon, my God, then real shit will hit the fan. We have to get them. I’ll keep in touch." The admiral hung up.
* * *
Mary Jean put the phone back in the cradle. We’ve got to tread carefully here. She remained concerned the operation would be hindered or cancelled because of diplomatic stresses imposed by the State Department or intergovernmental problems within the executive branch. If the State Department revealed what they were doing to the government of Saudi Arabia, that government would force them to terminate their operations and the Saudis would have a legal right to take over. She considered the legal position, and in her mind concluded it was not the highest priority in this case. Her priority must concentrate on supporting Matt Higgins in every way she could.
She stretched back in her chair, put her hands behind her head, and looked up at the ceiling. Mary Jean thought to herself, It is difficult to believe there are so many people in this country who do not understand that we are at war with an enemy who has sworn to destroy everything we have —our way of life, our culture, and our very existence as a nation. She knew there were many people who disagreed with the President on his way of anti-terrorist campaign, but this war was our only chance. There had been no quarter given by either side. Diplomacy would not solve this confrontation. There existed no way to achieve a negotiated peace, because the other guys would use it to strengthen their position and capabilities. She knew a negotiated peace would be the death warrant for our way of life.
“It amazes me,” Mary Jean said aloud as if practicing a speech she had to give in the next week to the USAA convention, “that our people cannot understand there are those in this world, who will kill you, just because you are an American. The number of people, whose animosity against the USA knows no bounds, has dramatically increased in the past decade. All I see is our people putting their heads in the sand and not wanting to engage into a conflict where their sons or neighbors or friends might be hurt or damaged. Without our ability to engage these terrorists, the radical wing of Islam will invade us. We have no way to effectively combat the suicide bombers, unless we get to them before they strike, like in the planning stages, and that can only be accomplished by on-the-ground intelligence operatives. So the real question comes down to—is it better to die on the battlefield fighting against this or is it better to be forced to go to the mosque for prayers after we lose?”
Mary Jane returned her chair to the upright position and put her hands on the desk. This job always would be difficult, and nobody else wanted it, because all you did was stick your neck out without any safeguard. She made the decisions, she alone had the responsibility, and she could not shift the burden to anyone else.
She would see that her team got the weapons, no matter the cost, because there wasn’t a second place trophy in this contest. The destruction by an atomic weapon of one of America’s cities, or that of an ally, was not acceptable.
29
Al-Hanbali’s Compound
4:34 PM – 28 OCTOBER
Tewfik al-Hanbali opened the door of the workshop. Basam and Yuri were waiting outside.
“Get the weapons packed on the vehicles. We are leaving right now. I’ve decided to move the attack up by one day as we have everything we need. I’m afraid that if Faisal betrayed us, someone else might be coming either to assist them or to take it from them. Those Hezbollah idiots might do anything. I want to go now.” He looked at Yuri. “Assure me the weapons are ready.”
Yuri nodded. “Yes. The largest one is ready for use. I need to place it in the lead-lined case. The other one for the oil rig is ready in a shielded container, and the third, the smallest one, can be ready in an hour.”
“Are you sure there is no danger in transporting them?”
“The largest container can be strapped down and carried by one man on his back, at least for a short distance. The one for the desert is round and in a flat box with a handle for carrying, and the other case is like a medium-size cardboard box. What are you going to do with it?” Yuri asked.
“That one is my personal property. Let’s get out of here. Basam, get the others ready and have the cars brought around. Put the primary weapon for the oil facility in the first Land Rover. We will take the other ones in the last two cars, one in each. I want you and Yuri in the second car and I’ll be in the last one with the bomb for the dese
rt well.” Tewfik walked toward the house as he finished giving his order.
Basam carried out the instructions and then approached al-Hanbali with a concern. “Tewfik, those cars Faisal used to get here should be moved. Why not bring them here just before we leave, put the Hezbollah traitors in them, and burn them?”
“Good idea. Let’s do it and then head for our intermediate target. We will have to stop somewhere for the night. I think I know a place, an old friend’s house,” said al-Hanbali.
They prepared the vehicles for the trip. The first vehicle, with three of al-Hanbali’s men, had the large weapon in a container strapped in the spare tire well. The second car, a dust-covered red Nissan station wagon, and Basam was going to ride in that SUV with Yuri, and they had the small-size bomb. The last vehicle, with al-Hanbali and the one remaining member of his cell, carried the dirty weapon intended to contaminate what they believed were the largest oil reserves in the world.
Late afternoon arrived before all the preparations were complete. Basam called for two of the men to accompany him to get the cars left on the road. They would also pick up the bodies of the two RPG men at the rear of the house.