The Sahara Intercept

by R G Ainslee

  My head swam at the thought of getting out of bed. "I dunno, have to see if I can stand up. You might need to get me a wheelchair." Athens, what about Lisette? I can't leave without her. "Any word on the others?"

  I dreaded having to explain my present condition to Lisette. Even after her apparent acceptance of everything that had gone on, I was unsure, no fearful, of what she would say or do if she saw me lying in a hospital bed with gunshot wounds.

  "The guy I talked to, must be some Mossad bureaucrat, said the Rosen's would get them on a plane to Athens. I spoke with Barker on the phone this morning and he said they would be on the flight."

  "What did Mack say?"

  "He's not there. He got called back to Frankfurt on Sunday. Barker talked to him yesterday after Rosen informed him, they should leave. Mack said he would meet us in Germany."

  "Did the guy tell you anything else, why?"

  "No explanation, just here's your tickets and make sure you don't miss the flight."

  "Jacobs used us. We're on an unofficial mission…" A shot of pain cut through my chest when I tried to sit up. "On our own … a lone wolf operation … and he gives us the shaft … the sorry bastard." My head dropped to the pillow.

  "What about the stuff you got from the site?"

  "They kept the component and manual." I groaned. "Looks like we're not going to get any of it, not even a chance to inspect Marsden's special module."

  "Jacobs and the major double crossed us big time." Jack shook his head in disgust. "Now I realize why you never trusted 'em. You always talked about the USS Liberty, and how you didn't buy the official story, but I don't know what to make of this. The troops from Shaldag were okay by my book, they're real pros. You gotta remember these guys are surrounded by enemies ready to do 'em in. Guess it's understandable if they place their own interests first."

  "Yeah, but they asked for our help. We put our butts on the line too. I still think they got some cold-blooded bastards running things."

  "Maybe that's what it takes."

  "Tell that to the guys on the Liberty." My anger boiled ready to explode. — I don't need to get in an argument with Jack. — I took a deep breath, exhaled in frustration, and collected my thoughts. "You're right about Ari and his team, you couldn't ask for anyone better to go in harm's way with. Those guys are first class."

  "Agreed. I'm looking forward to telling Amadeo we met some genuine air commandos."

  I started to chuckle, but cut it short when the pain kicked in. Amadeo had been an air commando and Jack was always kidding him, just kidding though, Jack had a real appreciation of his skills.

  Another thought occurred to me. "Has there been anything in the news? I wonder what the Syrians had to say."

  "Nothing, no mention in the English language paper or on TV, maybe everybody, including the Syrians, wants to sweep this thing under the rug. In any case, it would be a big embarrassment for them."

  "Yeah, and the raid took place in an isolated spot and no civilians were involved, so perhaps the Lebanese don't want to be drawn in either … sometimes it's better to keep your head down and ignore trouble."

  "At least Marsden and that Bremmer broad are dead, that's a positive outcome in my book." Jack paused and added, "Only thing missing is the paperwork when we get home."

  The words book and paperwork triggered a memory in the recesses of my mind. "Wait a minute." I trembled as a surge of anticipation surged through my body. "Hand me the coat, the one I wore on the raid." I winced in pain as I struggled to sit up. "Over there in the wardrobe, I saw the nurse fold it up this morning."

  Jack examined the garment. "Got a couple of bullet holes … no blood though." He gazed at me with a strange look. "The first round impacted the steel slide of your pistol, but I'm surprised the second didn't kill you."

  "Look …" I gasped, breathless with excitement, "in the pocket."

  Jack opened the flap and pulled out a thick notebook with a bullet hole. "Is this…"

  "Yes, Marsden's notebook … it absorbed enough of the impact to save my life … and should save the mission … if it's still readable."

  Jack held the book up for me to see. "Still intact, appears okay to me, except for a hole near the edge. Here, take a look."

  I grabbed the notebook and inspected a few pages. "It's good enough, I can fill in the blanks … We did it … We beat the bastards—" I recoiled in pain when I started to laugh. "Hell's bells … stick that thing in your pocket and don't let it out of your sight." I paused to take a long shallow breath. "I'm gonna be on that plane tonight if it kills me. We gotta get out of Dodge before they realize they don't have the full story."

  Epilogue

  January 1981

  Three months later, the sun still rose in the east and set in the west. Caught in an anticlimactic state of limbo, SSRP, like most other governmental organizations, remained on resuscitation long after its intended mission expired. Wilson was dead, and we limped along, continued to collect our checks, and pretend we were doing something useful.

  We returned to the states only to be ignored by the powers that be in NSA and CIA. It seemed we were the redhead bastard stepchild of the intelligence community: unclaimed, unwanted, and unwelcome. Rumor of a Senate inquiry died, no one wanted to confront inconvenient facts.

  The outgoing administration muddled along in an even greater state of disarray, for us a fortuitous circumstance. The White House canned Hansen after Mack reported the partial success of our mission to the directors of NSA and CIA. Even his patron, the dim whittled ignoramus Senator Palmer Bradbury, couldn't save him. Hansen chose to retire rather than accept reassignment as chief reptile control officer at Area Fifty-One in Nevada.

  We marked time, waiting for the next shoe to drop, until the new president took office. The guiding principle behind post-mortems on intelligence failures is not what you learn, but whom to blame. The major purpose of a post-mortem is to protect the big boys. The result is the least powerful become sacrificial lambs. In other words, the designated fall guy. I had little doubt who the most likely candidate could be.

  The war in Chad continued: Gaddafi visited his troops in northern Chad in early November and ordered the commander of Libyan forces to liberate N'Djamena. Following a week of aerial bombardment, a Libyan armor force of Soviet made T-54 and T-55 tanks descended on the capital leading to its capture in mid-December. Soviet and East German advisers reportedly coordinated the attack. In January, Gaddafi announced a merger plan between Libya and Chad. The French were not amused: they moved additional troops into the region and placed their Mediterranean Fleet on alert.

  The Ustica investigation also limped along — no big surprise there. The Škorpion Brigade faded from the public consciousness, choosing to retreat and regroup after their plans of African domination went amiss. The Israelis, Syrians, and Lebanese all remained silent concerning the raid, as if the unpleasantness never happened.

  However, I did manage to piece together Marsden's notes and NSA used the indispensable data as a bargaining chip to gain access to the module from the Israelis.

  The morning after the inauguration, Mack called and told me to report to Bolling Air Force Base ASAP. We had an appointment to keep three days hence.

  Wednesday, 28 January 1981: Washington, D.C.

  Mack and I sat in the office of the man nominated to be one of the new assistant CIA directors. Over the years, the CIA evolved into two competing factions: the hard-liners in the area of operations and the so-called moderates in the intelligence analysis functions. The man we were speaking to was considered by almost everyone as a hawk, a hardline cold warrior, and close confident of the incoming director.

  We briefed him on the events in the Sahara and Israel. The man, an older career intelligence bureaucrat with a rim of grey around his bald spot, leaned back and digested our presentation.

  "How do you analyze the potential for Marsden's system?" he asked. "Will they make use of his technology in the future?"

  Mack ans
wered, "The design is based on deception. Once the system's mode of operation was discovered, the development of effective countermeasures would be a simple task. They attempted to modify the concept for deployment with the new S-300. Brannan here intercepted a signal from a test firing in 1979 when he was in Iran. They knew we had the signal and subsequently, dropped further development for use with the S-300."

  "But the Soviets didn't scrap the program."

  "No," I said, "they allowed Marsden to move his operations to Syria and modify a Long Track for their third world arms customers. In that configuration, the air defense system would work pretty well against unsophisticated ECM capabilities."

  "How about the French?"

  "They tend to rely on local forces first, and by the time they intervened, it would be too late."

  "Okay, what now? Do you believe this technology has a future?"

  "Basically, the jig is up. They know we know how the system works and the element of surprise is lost. Like Mr. Gibson said, the design is based on creating a deception."

  "I agree. One more question … can we reverse engineer the system for our use?"

  I smiled. "In my book, we wouldn't want to. It appears Marsden ran something of a scam on the Soviets and the Syrians. The thing was only marginally useful at best. I think he must have convinced them the concept would work."

  He frowned. "If that's so, why did they allow him to continue?"

  "The Soviets knew we attempted to develop the system and wanted us to think they solved the riddle. If we took the bait, we would expend resources on the high-tech equivalent of a wild goose chase. It was a low-cost gamble and almost succeeded."

  "I believe you're correct. Exposing the scheme is your organization's greatest accomplishment. Colonel Wilson's vision worked, you were able to approach the problem without an abundance of preconceived notions and turf wars."

  Questions about Penwell and his operation remained unspoken. Mack warned me in advance not to breach that subject. For once, I followed his counsel. Instead, I asked, "What about the SkB?"

  The man scowled. "They are just useful tools. Their goal of a quick and decisive destabilization in central Africa has been blocked … if it ever had a chance." He paused and smiled. "Mr. Gibson, you and your team are to be commended. I am genuinely sorry it came at such a high price."

  I had to ask, "Do we still have a future?"

  "Yes, I can assume your capabilities will not be sidelined. I can't elaborate, but the new president intends to be more aggressive vis-à-vis the Soviets.

  "So, he wants to continue the policy of containment?"

  The man dipped his head with a wry smile. "Hell no, we mean to defeat the bastards. Mr. Gibson, you will maintain your current organizational structure until we assign you a new mission. I envision you will be working more closely with the new Special Operations Command in the future. In the meantime, rest and regroup."

  Buoyed by surge of optimism, I noticed Mack was smiling.

  The man laid the file on his desk and looked me straight in the eyes. "I understand you have experience operating in Afghanistan?" The man paused with the hint of a smirk on his face.

  "Yes sir." My mind raced at the possibilities. Wait a minute, the Russians … I wonder—

  "I'm sure your knowledge and skills won't go to waste." He stood and ushered us to the door. "Thank you, gentlemen, for your time, I will be in contact with you soon."

  Friday, 13 February 1981: Albuquerque, New Mexico

  Friday the thirteenth is supposed to be a bad luck day, but I had hopes for better. My latest visit to the VA hospital had not produced good news. The doctor said my headaches and almost sleepless nights would continue for a while — too many concussions. The blow to my heart was healing, but he insisted my activities be restricted. No problem, I didn't feel like doing anything anyway.

  SSRP and Raven-One continued in limbo. Two days earlier, Barker received orders on his promotion and transfer to a unit in Korea. It appeared the Air Force was winding down our operation in New Mexico. The others expected notice of a new assignment any day. I awaited word from Mack.

  * * *

  Back home I told Lisette, we might not be staying in Albuquerque. She gave me that so-what-else-is-new look and informed me supper would be ready in half an hour. Her mood remained cool and distant, but at least we were still together. I could only hope for better days.

  I grabbed a bottle of Modelo Especial out of the fridge, shuffled to the living room, chased the cat out of my easy chair, picked up the TV remote, and plopped down, intent on having a pleasant evening for a change. I examined the schedule, winced at the paucity of offerings, and out of frustration switched to CNN, the new cable news channel.

  Little Duval played on the floor as I ignored a commercial trying to sell some useless product. He squealed, grabbed the cat, and began to giggle. At last, I was beginning to enjoy fatherhood.

  The commercial ended and the announcer or anchor or whatever they call themselves these days intoned, "Our next guest is retired Colonel Mitchell Hansen, author of the new novel about an out of control black-ops unit entitled 'Rogue Raven.' — Welcome Colonel Hansen."

  "The rat bastard," I screamed at the top of my lungs. The cat hightailed to the kitchen. "The rat bastard — the rat bastard — the freaking rat bastard."

  Glossary

  AK-47 — Avto Kalashnikov model 47, A Soviet-produced military weapon automatic rifle capable of single shot or automatic fire. Fires a 7.62 mm round.

  ASA — U.S. Army Security Agency. The Army’s signal intelligence branch was composed of soldiers with the highest scores on Army intelligence tests. The ASA, directly subordinate to the National Security Agency, monitored military Soviet Bloc communications around the world. In 1976, the ASA was merged with the Army’s military intelligence branch to form the Army Intelligence and Security Command (INSCOM).

  ASAP — As soon as possible; pronounced "A-Sap."

  BOHICA — Bend over here it comes again

  CIA — Central Intelligence Agency

  CID — Criminal Investigation Division

  COMINT — intelligence derived from the collection of spoken or written communications.

  DIA — Defense Intelligence Agency

  ELINT — Electronics Intelligence, intelligence derived from collection, processing and analysis of radar and various guidance control systems.

  FUBAR — Fowled up beyond all recognition

  IBEX — Project IBEX was a joint US and Iranian airborne ELINT collection program.

  NSA — National Security Agency

  SIGINT — Signals Intelligence. Intelligence derived from the collection, processing and analysis of either of, or a combination of, COMINT and ELINT.

  Author’s Note

  Behind the Story

  December 1977, I arrived in Bangui, the capitol of the Central African Empire, a few days after the coronation of Emperor Bokassa. Eager for a change of fare, I happened on a small cafe and enjoyed a fresh dish of yogurt. It was delicious. A large picture of Colonel Kaddafi hung over the door, the owner was a Libyan expatriate. The next day I was laid-low by a vicious stomach bug, naturally, I blamed the yogurt, and Kaddafi by association.

  A few weeks later, while eating lunch in a gravel pit in Eastern Zaire, I found an expended .50-caliber armor-piercing tracer bullet. The next day I arrived in Kisangani, a city still not fully recovered from dystopian violence of the Simba rebellion supported by Che Guevara. I kept the bullet, and after some research, I presumed it to have been fired from an aircraft piloted by Cuban exile pilots employed by the CIA during the nineteen-sixties. Cubans fighting Cubans in the heart of Africa.

  Kaddafi and Che, two players in the Cold War bringing conflict and suffering to the people of central Africa. The Sahara Intercept attempts to give the reader a glimpse into the secret cold war in the heart of Africa, using a fictional story interwoven into a timeline of real events.

  Separating Facts and Fiction

 
The Sahara Intercept is a work of fiction interwoven into a timeline of real events. The following events actually occurred:

  1. The Ustica Mystery: The Italian airliner was shot down on 27 June 1980. A bomb or a missile was suspected, but no official blame was ever assigned.

  2. Bombing of the Railway Station in Bologna, Italy on 2 August 1980.

  3. Incident with U.S. Air Force SIGINT Aircraft on 16 September 1980.

  4. The Libyan Invasion of Chad.

  5. Military coup in Turkey on 12 September 1980.

  6. Libyan attack on N'Djamena airport by Libyan Tu-22s on 9 October 1980.

  The military units, American, French, Chadian, and Israeli are real and operate as described. The Chadian Air Force used surplus Skyraiders and French mercenary pilots as described in the novel.

  The cities of Tamanrasset, Agadez, Bangui, and Kisangani are described as they existed in 1977. Kisangani was worse, the author having witnessed two thefts in one day.

  The Škorpion Brigade and Lukas Penwell's organization are fictional.

  Acknowledgements

  To my wife, Susan: this book wouldn't exist without your support and encouragement; and to her mother Dee who proofread the final copy. Thanks.

  The Secret Cold War Series

  The Cold War lasted forty plus years, a time of tensions between two super-powers with the capacity to destroy each other and the world. If war is hell, the Cold War was Purgatory. Not peace, not war, something in-between. The best of times, the worst of times.

  Proxy wars were fought on many fronts. One front was invisible, a secret war: the signal intelligence war. Reliable and timely gathering of electronic intelligence (ELINT) was vital, a first line of defense. The Secret Cold War series reveals the silent conflict waged in the shadows.

  The Secret Cold War series follows the adventures of ELINT analyst Ross Brannan and the Raven-One team of the Special Signals Research Project, a joint venture combining NSA analytical capabilities with CIA and military assets. The unit's mission deals with situations where conventional ELINT collection methods are neither effective nor practical.