by B K Thomas
“Then I must get to work.” Zamir walks to the parts that have been laid out. He looks them over like a conductor viewing his orchestra. He can feel the attention of all the components ready to play their part to perfection. It is all there. They are ready. He is ready. He starts barking commands as he takes over the room to begin composing his masterpiece. It is an intricate process but also a crude one. His peers from the government labs would not submit to such conditions, but they have no real vision in his opinion. They aren’t willing to sacrifice their standards for the achievement of the greater goal.
Zamir has been awkward around the soldiers, but he is a zealot, nonetheless. Now, in his element, he commands. His motivation is as deep as anyone else’s. The world is going to pay for his sister’s death. She died during one of the bombings at home in Iraq. There was no reason for it and no justice to be found in the world for her so he will make his own. He wants to show the world they can’t hold back his people or rule over them anymore. They have been subject to the world powers for too long. They did not have the weapons to be able to do as they pleased like the West did. They have been pushed around like children. They have been told what they could and could not do. Now, now he will show the world what is acceptable and what isn’t. His people will no longer submit to the West’s demands and they will no longer submit to the West’s rule. His culture has become hijacked and Westernized. It does not reflect the true beauty of their people. It is a distorted picture of life as an infidel. It leads others to the same sick lifestyle of pleasure and indulgence. He and Mashal will cleanse Damascus as an example of how to reset the balance in the world. They will cleanse the secular and western influence and put the world on notice. The Middle East is no longer their playground and the Arabs will no longer be pushed around like children. Allah has given them the tools to set things straight and they will not fail.
***
Sahila family apartment, Central Damascus
Sahila is on the phone to her cousin at first light. Frightened by the rumblings of explosions in the night, she is ready to leave the country before she is the next target. Her cousin answers on the second ring. He tells her to meet her at the market and they can talk there. She lets him know she will be there in thirty minutes. She has no time to spare. She wakes Yaqeena and they have some tea and tell their mama goodbye. They hop a bus and make their way to the market as the sun is still low in the sky. They walk down the market once again shopping for anything they might need until their cousin appears when they least expect it. They keep looking at the produce as they speak with him.
“So, we have found a property I think you will like.” He starts as they pick up some mint and some garlic.
“Oh, that sounds nice. When can we go see it?” She asks while paying the vendor.
“I think we should go see it today. The sooner the better.” Tarek emphasizes.
“Sure, let’s take these things home and we’ll be on our way,” Sahila says finishing the purchase. She hooks her sister’s arm and turns back to the bus stop. Tarek falls in step behind them to hop on the bus and accompany them back to their home. Sahila and Yaqeena keep taking their cues from Tarek and limiting their interactions. Tarek sits apart from the girls and does not talk with them on the bus. When they get off, they do not talk until they are inside. Once inside, the radio is turned up once again.
Their mama greets them and tells them Baba is out. She offers Tarek tea, but he declines.
“We don’t have time for this,” Tarek says in a hushed tone to Sahila and Yaqeena. “The bombing last night will have every checkpoint on high alert. We must get as far as possible before there is another bombing.”
“Yes, you must hurry daughters.” Their mama urges. Her face is intense, and she immediately goes to the kitchen. She returns with a bag full of food to snack on during their trip. The girls have already grabbed a few things but not too much. They don’t want to look like they are going on a long trip. They don’t want to be stopped before they even get out of the city.
“Bye Mama, tell Baba we love him.” Sahila tries to keep her composure as she speaks. Yaqeena cries softly on her mama’s shoulder. Tarek gives them a moment but then is back on task.
“We must go, sorry.” He looks embarrassed but insistent. Finally, he gently takes the arms of both daughters to guide them away. Both look back at their mama standing in the doorway watching them walk away as they disappear out of sight.
***
Mossad, Tel Aviv, Israel
The bombing has achieved what they planned. The weapons cache that was meant for Hezbollah has been destroyed. Captain Ben Haim sits in his chair staring at the screen. He had not expected this development though. He feels sick. He can hardly see what he is reading anymore. Reports are beginning to trickle out of Damascus stating the government is scrambling to enter a secret bunker that held weapons-grade materials. He can’t believe his eyes. The bombing has been an opportunistic cover for the General to accomplish his mission. He knows there are gaps in the Israeli intelligence machine. He still thinks they know everything they need to know about what is going on in the area, but he had not been told about this sensitive cache somehow and now there is going to be a fight over it. His mind starts racing through the possibilities. They can make a dirty bomb, a small explosive device that will make an impression but nothing too substantial. They would have to have some high-tech equipment to do anything significant with the material. Wouldn’t they? He calls a friend at the military lab to find out. “Hello, yes, is Abraham there?” He asks as the person who picks up the phone at the lab as his mind continues to race.
“Yes, let me go get him.” The person offers.
“Hello?” Abraham answers at the other end.
“Hello Abe, Ben Haim here.” Captain Ben Haim identifies himself.
“Well, hello there Ben. What do I owe this pleasure to?” Abe asks.
“I have a weapon design question for you. If someone has access to nuclear materials what kind of equipment, do they need to make anything impressive out of it?” Ben asks hoping the answer will be what he wants to hear.
“Hey there Ben. Hmm, well it depends a little. It’s been a while since I’ve looked at that. It will depend on the type of material that they have to start with. Not everything can be used for a bomb, Uranium has to be enriched to be used as a weapon with any large-scale effect really.” Abe thinks aloud.
“Ok, that’s good to hear.” Ben deflects the reality. “But let’s say they have the enriched Uranium.” Ben offers.
“Well, in that case, they have the right material, but it will still take a number of things. They will need a reflector that will have to be made of the right kind of material. Usually, Beryllium is used I believe. Then there are the explosives. You have to have some high-quality explosives to set off the reaction. I mean, they did use TNT for the ones early on but now we use better stuff. It will depend on the yield you’re after really.” Abe enjoys the new puzzle his mind is piecing together.
“So, we use better stuff now but something as simple as TNT can be used?” Ben tries to focus on the conversation.
“Well yes, but there are a lot of other parts. You will have to have someone that knows what they are doing. You just can’t slap a bunch of TNT around some Uranium and blow it up. I mean, I guess you can, but you still have to have a better design to get good results.” Abe pushes back.
“Ok, so let’s say you have someone that knows what they’re doing. What do they need?” Ben prods.
“In that case, they’ll need some components that are built with certain design parameters. They’ll need a spherical casing that will go around the uranium and maybe some other interior components to help reflect the blast to maximize the yield. I mean, if the scientist understood what he is doing most of the design information is available on the internet probably. A lot is theoretical and a bunch more is complete nonsense, but someone smart enough can sort through it and determine how to make a crude weapon I’m
sure. The hard part is getting the weapons-grade material after all. You can’t just enrich Uranium in your garage. After you have the enriched uranium, it’s complicated but it’s a lot easier than you might think. If someone got their hands on the material, I would expect they already have a plan and the understanding to use it.” Abe concluded.
“Hmm, yes. That sounds logical. Okay, thanks, Abe. We should get some dinner sometime and catch up.” Ben drew the call to a close.
“Yes, Ben. It sounds like we have a lot to talk about.” Abe lets out a chuckle.
Ben hangs up the phone and sits back in his chair. These guys have made a beeline for the material. They certainly have a plan and Abe is right. They have someone with the ability to execute the mission on board. These guys didn’t run off halfcocked. He knows that from losing them in Syria. He knows the General isn’t the genius that will pull off making a bomb. So, who did they have helping them with that part? This is becoming bigger with each new bit of information he receives from Syria. He hates the next call he has to make; Colonel Fisher isn’t going to like what he has to say either.
Chapter 25
ASG, Jordan
Major Westbrook is stunned. He knows this is the intent of whoever kidnapped the General but to hear the reality of it is still unexpected somehow. This group has captured a bunker that held unknown weapons-grade materials. How much no one knows or aren’t telling at least. What kind? They know even less than he hopes. There is no telling what types of lethal weapons are there. Gas? Probably. Biological? Yes, that too most likely. Uranium? He hopes not. If they did have it, what kind? How enriched is it? Three percent? Thirty or more, they have no idea. This is rapidly becoming the worst outcome any of them can imagine. His chain of command will want recommendations. There aren’t many. The guys who held the bunker don’t want to negotiate most likely, and the Syrians might not involve the United States anyway. That leads to its own set of issues. He knows the issues of sovereignty and such fly out the window in a scenario of this magnitude, but they have to be listed among the complications. Most of the world won’t care about the nuances given the circumstances but some will use a violation of sovereignty to cry foul. Then there is the issue of a strike. If the group that holds the bunker is building a bomb, someone will need to strike before they are able to execute their plan. They can shortcut them by dropping a bunker-busting bomb on them, that will do the trick. Striking a bunker with nuclear material has its own set of problems though. A strike could release a cloud of gas or create a dirty bomb of some magnitude just by exploding nuclear material into the atmosphere. The population in Damascus is still over a million people. Though people are constantly fleeing the city, it will still create a humanitarian disaster that they haven’t seen in some time. There are so many obstacles to a good outcome that he has to come up for air.
He stands up and takes a deep breath and exhales. He walks by Sergeant Jackson without saying anything. Jackson catches sight of the Major as he walks by and it worries him. He has never seen that look on his face before. The Major turns things over in his mind. He is blind, he has to get some satellite images of that bunker to assess the scene with the latest imagery.
“Jackson” He calls out, “get me some up to date satellite images of Mezzah airport ASAP.”
“On it, sir” Jackson is relieved the Major is driving toward something again. The look that had scared him is gone. He’ll find out soon enough what caused it, but he already has his suspicions.
The Major sits back down at his desk. There is no delaying it. They have to get assets in place. He picks up his phone and makes the call.
“Hello Sir,” The Major greets Lieutenant Colonel Noble. “We’ve got a critical issue in Damascus”.
***
Old Damascus, Syria
Umar is tired. He has been chasing this girl without a single lead. It’s like she doesn’t exist. She has been shooting videos all around Damascus, but no one knows who she is. He thinks maybe she has used technology to impose her image on a background. He thinks about selling the idea to his superiors. The videos are a fabrication of the United States military, one of their psychological operations, but he knows it isn’t true. He almost hopes it is true so he will have an explanation for how hard she has been to track down, but he knows better. She is genuine. She is just better at this than he has expected. His technology people are overwhelmed with requests chasing down ghosts for all the intelligence branches so his shot in the dark requests to assist in tracking this woman down fell to the end of a long line.
He decides to take a break for some coffee at a shop on a street he is canvassing. This one is near the Umayyad Mosque. The mosque’s grand structure stands out over the Old Damascus landscape. Considered one of the holy sites in Islam, it stands as a backdrop for many corridors that the faithful and the tourists take on sightseeing journeys. The residents enjoy the many coffee shops that spill out into the open with patios down the street. They are mostly full of tourists during the day having tea and a smoke. The evenings are even more enchanting when the lights and music calls to the local residents after another day of surviving. He can see the immense brown weathered wall made of large stones and one of the sets of heavy wooden doors that lead to the mosque as he walks the corridor to the coffee shop. The mosque stands in contrast to the humble buildings around it. It serves as a stabilizing force in the city. It is an anchor that reminds the residents of its great past and beckons them to a better future. He remembers the days when there was plenty of time to sit on the patio at a shop and talk about the latest scores in the soccer world and revel in the bright future ahead. Those days are a memory now and the future seems less clear now than ever before.
The Russians and Iranians are all over half of the country. The Americans and rebel groups are all over the rest of it. Umar is more impressed than ever with President Bashar’s ability to keep his government afloat and navigate all the political landmines facing him. The world has pressured him to agree to a peaceful resolution, but he stood his ground and has outlasted them. The cost has been enormous. Umar would have never guessed it would have lasted this long. People caught up in the middle of civil wars probably never do. Things have been going so well lately. The government has recaptured a great deal of territory and are pushing the rebels out. Now, out of nowhere the military airfield is being attacked and rebels are taking over weapons caches and he is stuck trying to find a girl trying to upend every sense of order.
The shop has been open for an hour. No one is there yet as Umar walks up. The owner is still drinking his morning tea and the smell of coffee is seeping into the room. He rises from his chair to greet Umar.
“Good morning sir, will you like a coffee or a tea?” The old man asks.
Umar pauses. A strong coffee will help him get through this part of his day. “Some of the coffee that I smell will be great.”
“Yes, sir.” The man smiles and shuffles to get the order.
Umar looks around at the empty room. His driver stands outside the shop and smokes a cigarette hoping to catch sight of some pretty tourist girls. Umar likes the place. It has classic Syrian art, pictures and other designs that make it feel warm. He decides to have a seat at the owner’s table. He had planned to ask about the girl and go but changes his mind. He decides to take a break. He has been going all morning. For hours he sat in his office reviewing intelligence reports. He watched the videos the girl had posted looking for a clue as to where she might be. He grew tired of it and hit the streets but now he just needs some coffee. There is only so much he can do after all. The old man returns with the coffee. Umar smiles and they talk about the shop. The man says it is a good location for business. He took the shop over from his father who enjoyed a modest living through the years from business with the tourists and locals. The old man says he is happy to have Umar this morning since he has not remembered seeing him there before.
Umar sighs, “Yes, I am not out for my own pleasure. I am looking for a girl. She ma
y have information that can help us. I thought she might be from this area do you recognize her?” Umar pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it and slides it across the table.
The old man picks it up then stretches it away from himself to peek over his glasses to get a better look. “Hmm, why yes. I recognize her.” The old man places the picture back on the table.
Umar can’t believe his ears. “You recognize her?” He asks in disbelief.
“Oh yes,” the old man smiles. “she was here just the other day. Yes, she was with her sister.”
“Her sister?” Umar leans forward. She is helping her; I’d bet my life on it.
“Yes, she and her sister do everything together. They have been running around together for years. Whatever you need this one for the sister can certainly help. I have no doubt about that. Her father and I were in the army together.” The old man looks out into the street at the people walking by. “Of course, with war things change. Maybe they have changed too.” The old man drifted away into thoughts of the war.
“So, do they live somewhere nearby?” Umar interrupts the old man’s thoughts.
The old man smiles. “Oh, forgive an old man. The world moves so fast now. Yes, her family lives near here.”
Umar sits up; his heart is racing. “Where? What is her name?”
“Her name is Sahila, they live by the Damascus hotel. Here, I’ll write it down for you.” The old man grabs his pencil and writes out the address.
Umar stands and drops more than enough to pay for the coffee. “Thank you, I will have to come back for a longer talk sometime.”
“Yes, that would be nice. I hope she can help you find what you need. Tell them I said hi.” The old man states as Umar leaves.
Umar can barely hear him anymore. He has found her!
***
Safe House, Central Damascus
Mashal is pleased with the progress. Zamir is busy assembling the parts they collected. A collection effort that has taken years. There is no doubt in Mashal’s mind this is his destiny. Too many things had to come together to make it to this point. He knows his plan will be a reality. Even the scientist is a gift for him to reach his destiny. The scientist had his own things in mind when he worked for the government. He was given components to hide when the United Nations was inspecting the weapons program, but he decided not to give them all back in case they returned. Things continued to deteriorate for the weapons program and he never returned them.
