Swiftshadow

by D S Kane

  She reached deep into the bowels of the originating bank computers, erasing the transaction detail trailers and modifying the sender data to reflect other accounts within the bank’s account records.

  She penetrated the bank funds transfer repair stations, found “one-off” corrections that could be modified to correspond with the transaction modifications she’d already made, creating a complete backtrail for each falsified transaction.

  The easy part was erasing all traces of her ever having entered the bank computers from their network server records.

  If she failed, it wouldn’t be long before they traced it back to her and her plan would unravel. Each hack took about ten minutes and there were fourteen of them.

  She found herself drifting occasionally, wondering what Lee’s and her lives would be like if she survived the battles soon coming. Tomorrow might be the last day she ever spent with him. What if she survived? And then she shook her head to clear it, forcing herself back into the work at hand. After all, she still wasn’t sure he wasn’t the mole.

  When she was finished, she felt satisfied but wasted, and dragged her body off to bed. It was just after the close of SWIFT, and Cassie was asleep in seconds.

  * * *

  Lee let her sleep late into the morning. At noon, he pulled the blanket from her with care. She shifted a bit but kept snoring. “Cassie, are you okay?”

  She stirred and stretched her arms. “Yeah. I dreamed we were old and married, and we had a teen-aged daughter and a black cat I’d rescued as a stray. We called the cat ‘Gizmo.’ Strange, though, I recognized our daughter’s face but couldn’t place her even though I know her. Very confusing.” She shook the sleep from her eyes. “Why’d you wake me?”

  “From your behavior, I guess you’re finished arming the trap.” He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a bottle of 2011 Chandon Méthode Champenoise and two glasses. “Congratulations.”

  She yawned. He reached for the coffee pot on the countertop and filled a cup for her.

  She seized the cup, took a sip. Then she pulled him back. “Thanks for the champagne and the coffee. And I didn’t just arm the trap. I sprang it. Clock’s running as of 5 a.m. tomorrow.”

  Time to fight.

  * * *

  Avram Shimmel reviewed the reports on his desk, ticking off things accomplished on a Gantt chart depicting the timeline for events in the coming battle and the delivery logistics to support it. He flipped pages and cross-tied items to ensure all the loose ends remaining in his battle plan were being handled. A two-location battle, each site a quarter of the world from the other, with forces outnumbering us many times.

  His expression was dour. So many endless details. The troops were all in place but only part of the matériel had arrived. He began writing questions in the margins of the supply logistics report. What is due to arrive? When and where? What arrived damaged and is now in need of repair or replacement? He needed at least one more of him to ensure his mercenaries were battle-ready.

  He picked up the cell phone-equipped GNU radio and pressed in a number. “Major McTavish, this is General Shimmel. On your status report, it shows all matériel received at the depot outside Riyadh. Is this everything we ordered?” He listened to Alister McTavish utter one word—“yes”—and then asked, “And exactly what is the status of our Major LeFleur’s east Afghanistan delivery?” A few seconds later, he asked, “Have military matériel testers been deployed to both depots?” Then, after receiving another “yes,” Shimmel asked, “What is the current status of the matériel and when do you expect testing to be complete?”

  This time McTavish spoke at length. Shimmel’s expression changed, his bushy eyebrows raised in alarm. He asked, “How many will need new parts? How long will repairs take?” He listened a few seconds and then said, “Too long. Figure out some way to get all in a state of tested readiness within two days for both sites. No, you can’t have more time. I’m giving you all the time I can! Just do it. Yes, and get your men prepared to deploy in three days. We’re going to attack then. That is, if you’re ready. Shimmel out.”

  * * *

  Lee barely had time to give Cassie a goodbye kiss and wish her luck before she boarded. The fleet of Learjets took off, one after another, from the private air terminal at San Jose’s Mineta International Airport.

  On the ride back to the Highlands Inn, both Shimmel and Ainsley were silent. The sun was setting into the Pacific as the two men sat at the table in Cassie and Lee’s room. Shimmel read from his notes, reading glasses low on his nose. “We now have thirty men with tested matériel in the air-conditioned supply depot on the outskirts of Riyadh. Major McTavish commands in the city. We have seventy men in the foothills thirty miles southeast of Jalalabad, sitting in four air-conditioned supply transports outside the village of Upper Pachir. Major LeFleur commands in the hills. Major Giondella will coordinate communications between the city and hills. He’ll operate from Tel Aviv assisted by Michael Drapoff who can hack into Mossad after we initiate the blackout to keep the two Houmaz brothers from realizing they’re both under attack. Drapoff’s contacts within Mossad make him the point man of this operation.”

  Shimmel faced Lee. “Everything will be ready for us to commence our attack in Upper Pachir less than one hour after you give the word.” General Shimmel’s eyes bored into Ainsley’s.

  Lee rubbed his eyes. “What’s Cassie’s status?”

  Shimmel read from one of the pages in his hand. “She’s with Major LeFleur in Upper Pachir. I tried to change her mind on this but she stated it’s personal and she refuses to stand down. The remaining four former Mossad agents are with her, yielding total manpower of seventy-five at the caves. However, she insists on keeping one jet ready for her and the Mossad personnel to carry them from Jalalabad to Riyadh as soon as the Muslim extremists in the caves have been rendered.”

  Lee shuddered. He knew if she lived through the Afghanistan battle, she’d fly off to fight again in Riyadh without any rest. In the mirrored closet he saw his face reflecting the worry he felt. He wondered how effective she’d be, and how he’d function with his thoughts focused on work but his heart consumed with the dangers she faced.

  His job was to work with Major Giondella and Michael Drapoff to jam communications on satellite phones, cell phones, and landlines between Riyadh and Afghanistan. With all remaining telecommunications dead, the GNU radio would be the only form of communications—voice and data—working in Riyadh or in Nangarhar Province. Drapoff and Major Giondella had developed a manual procedure to close down landlines using electromagnetic devices—EMP technology developed by Mossad—deployed by Majors LeFleur and McTavish from their locations.

  Lee knew everyone and everything was good to go, but he worried something might not work. He muttered an old saying: “No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.”

  “Thanks for the update, Avram. Give me some time alone. Okay?” He left the hotel room and walked aimlessly around the grounds for over an hour, fearing the worst. When he returned to the hotel room serving as command central for their missions, he found General Shimmel writing notes with a felt marker on a chalkboard:

  Mission Upper Pachir Caves

  Approach caves

  Neutralize guards

  Mine cave exits

  Enter caves and execute all hostiles

  Collect weapons

  Meet with tribal leaders and determine if there are other Muslim extremist locales

  If additional Muslim extremists are found, determine if they have additional plans, per Cassie’s description of the phone conversation Ainsley retrieved between Pesi Houmaz and Abdul Hassain, her assassin in Riyadh

  Execute all Muslim extremists in all their locales, especially Tariq Houmaz

  Mission Riyadh

  Approach compound

  Neutralize guards

  Enter compound and interrogate Pesi Houmaz. Do the brothers have other plans

  Execute Pesi Houmaz.

 
; Exit compound and return to California

  Shimmel looked up and faced Lee. “Are you ready? If you are, we can start the attack in Afghanistan. Now.”

  Lee looked at the chalkboard. So many things could go wrong.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 33

  September 2, 8:12 a.m.

  4 miles due west of

  the village of Upper Pachir,

  Nangarhar Province, Afghanistan

  Cassie read the intel supplied by the mole. It was endless—hundreds of pages. She paced the area around the bivouac and scanned the barren mountainous horizon. The mercenaries were camped in the high country of the Spin Ghar mountains. Ragged foothills surrounded them, pocked with caves. Many of the caves had interconnecting tunnels. Although the area froze in winter, it boiled hot this summer day.

  According to the intel, the cooler caves just a few miles away offered the terrorists their only respite. They’d used the area for years and abandoned camps littered the area around the mountains. They avoided spending daylight hours outside the caves, and when the sun went down, they performed night exercises.

  The caves had been formed eons ago when prehistoric sliding limestone foundations settled into hardpan, leaving gaps or caves.

  Tora Bora was a few miles down the road but the bombs dropped by the United States some years back—during the First Taliban War—had closed most of those caves.

  Many of the remaining caves were large enough for the Houmaz mujahidin to live within. Some of the large caverns were used as depots for arms and ammunition.

  Cassie faced Major Jacques LeFleur, a mercenary for most of his life. His large, muscled arms were obsidian in the sunlight. LeFleur walked to the truck, an aggressive expression on his face. From North Africa, his black skin worked better than camouflage for night missions. When he passed where she stood, he didn’t bother acknowledging her.

  She knew he hadn’t seen any action in the French army that spawned him. Her reports indicated he wasn’t known for his intelligence, but he was a persistent man, driven by emotion. She believed he relied on his instincts to make tactical and operational-level decisions. He seemed to have little regard for strategy or mission—those were the province of top brass. He wanted to fight, not think.

  She followed and watched him looking through his binoculars at the horizon, scanning for the tribal warlords that controlled the area around Upper Pachir. “Major, what is our current status?”

  LeFleur stared at the checklist. His accent was a thick French and difficult for her to understand. “More than 10 percent of the equipment doesn’t work and parts for repairs won’t be available in time for this operation.” He pointed to a list of missing, damaged, and malfunctioning equipment. “One of the armored vehicles has a defective engine. Two of the bazookas arrived with incompatible ammunition. A sniper rifle is missing its scope. And one entire carton of hand grenades is missing from the delivery. But the General arranged for more than a 25 percent oversupply of all matériel. We’re ready to roll as soon as we get word from him that Drapoff has severed communications between Riyadh and Nangarhar.”

  * * *

  As the sun rose higher, LeFleur walked to the canvas chair in his campaign tent and reviewed reports his ops coordinator had printed for him. He matched these reports with the map of Nangarhar to which they applied. LeFleur’s perimeter guards had found no trace of the feudal lords, and this made him uneasy. He muttered, “I suspect they are out there watching.”

  He didn’t believe Cassie’s claim that if he and his troops didn’t attack the caves, the warlords might attack by themselves. He’d heard her say the warlords believed Houmaz had raided their bank accounts but how could she know something like that? And even if she was correct, there were over seven hundred armed men in the caves.

  He and seventy mercenaries along with Cassie and her four Mossad bodyguards were camped in the floor of the valley, hidden by a series of hills and valleys from the terrorist camp and their caves. Though his force had an overwhelming advantage in technology, the ten-to-one body-count odds against him were a formidable numerical consideration.

  Then there was the woman herself. Arrogant and insufferable. Women had no place on a battlefield. Yet here she was, along with her four Jewish spies, all wearing mercenary uniforms, battle helmets, and backpacks filled with technology toys. Whatever did they think they were going to do, besides get themselves killed? At least he’d managed to keep the female mercenaries out of his command. He faced her. “This place is going to be a battlefield. Dangerous for a woman. You can come along, but stay out of our way.”

  * * *

  Cassie didn’t bother replying. She walked to her tent, holding her cell equipped with GNU radio. She wore an earbud. She called Shimmel, and he told her that the operation would begin soon. The conversation turned to the mole’s intel. “I know you haven’t any faith in him but just tell me, Avram, if the satellite photographs show heat sources from locals within ten miles of the caves.”

  Shimmel was the control for all three operations and had decided to remain in the Carmel Highlands, halfway around the world. He couldn’t be in Tel Aviv, Nangarhar, and Riyadh all at the same time. “I’m examining the photos on a 48-inch TV. No, no one is visible. But they might be wearing heat-absorbing camouflage. Or the photos might have been altered by someone at the agency to mislead us.”

  She said, “Okay, then. Tell Drapoff in Tel Aviv to begin jamming communications. Leave the private channel open for our GNU radios. Contact me as soon as he starts and we’ll commence our attack when you reply. Cassie out.” Flanked by four of her bodyguards, she stood staring at the Land Rover as if the answer to all her hopes and dreams was within. The voice in her head remained quiet.

  * * *

  Shimmel terminated the call and frowned. He faced Lee. “I pray her lack of combat experience doesn’t lead to her death and the deaths of many others, all good men and women. She’s very headstrong.”

  Lee sat next to him, his face a wall of worry.

  Shimmel placed his next call to Major Giondella. Drapoff and the major had worked with the Mossad, using a new technology developed at Ness Ziona. The tech used a tightly focused continuous EMP beam to temporarily jam all telecommunications. It worked for about fifteen hours before failing. He’d prayed that the newer, better version in development would be available, but not yet. Would fifteen hours be long enough?

  “Good day, Major. Is Drapoff ready?” He heard the response and smiled. “Excellent, then. Let’s roll. Commence jamming in both Riyadh and Nangarhar Province.”

  * * *

  “Green light. Go. Go. Go.”

  Cassie nodded and one of her bodyguards turned the ignition of their Land Rover.

  In front of her, the sun rose over the mountain crests. Five camouflaged trucks left dust trails in their wakes. The mercs hung to the railings of the vehicles crawling along the dirt road, up the valley into the Spin Ghar mountains. They picked up speed, engines shifting gears through the gorge bordered by sheer mountain walls.

  The caravan sped five miles without the benefit of cover. Thick dust curtains followed the lead vehicle, tracking them better than any radar. Including the mercenary driver, fourteen armed fighters were on each truck, along with impressive electronic gadgetry and ordnance.

  Every truck was equipped with a turret-mounted machine gun. Each soldier carried night-vision goggles for the caves, and each was supplied with several flash-bang concussive grenades in addition to the specially modified Ruger Mini-14s and over 12,000 rounds in specially designed clips holding 500 bullets each.

  The trucks were loud enough to discourage any conversation among the soldiers, leaving each alone with his or her own thoughts, hopes, and fears.

  Using instructions the mole had given her, Cassie had hacked the agency’s computers in the early morning hours, generating recon photos from reprovisioned satellites showing all the cave entrances and exits. Using the agency’s satellite technology, s
he determined the paths of each tunnel through the mountain range. She knew the warlords had decamped and moved miles away so the noise wouldn’t be a problem until they approached the Houmaz camp.

  While she was within their network, past the agency’s firewall, she tried hacking into the personnel files but found another firewall barrier. Rats on a stick! She still didn’t know who the mole was.

  Cassie and her four companions from Mossad followed the armored trucks in a Land Rover. Each carried a large knapsack filled with technology and armament treats for the hostiles within the caves. Major LeFleur also rode in the Land Rover.

  Cassie found the lack of conversation oppressive. She looked around, watching the parched rocky hillside as they passed. A combination of hope and fear welled inside her. She shifted her thoughts rapidly to the register of her mercs, all male, to a listing of their armor, ammunition, and the supplies they’d packed for the upcoming battle.

  Her recollection of LeFleur’s chauvinistic actions and words intruded. She found him competent but she believed women brought a different vision to battle, one she thought was more creative and less brittle than that of men.

  So the fifteen female mercs, mostly snipers, communications and explosives specialists, all from countries in Europe, Africa, and Asia, were with McTavish. They’d be waiting for her in Riyadh if she survived this battle.

  The feudal tribesmen Houmaz used as guards were nowhere to be seen. The money Houmaz paid them having been stolen, there were no sentinels to raise an alarm. It was just as she’d planned.

  It took two hours to traverse the rugged fifteen miles from their campsites into visual range of the caves. Landscape changed from the dry valley with towering cliffs on either side of the road to shifting hills with soaring crests. The trucks slowed and then coasted downhill, their engines no longer making noise. She could see the cave entrances half a mile away, and in front, the flat plateau the terrorists had used as a staging area for war exercises. It was empty, quiet now.