by Jack Leman
“We don’t know yet their intentions, but we can be sure that Israel is the target. The question is, do they have the technical capacity to launch the missile? In any case, if the place we are currently observing is confirmed, they certainly chose a place to make it difficult for us to take out. The civilian casualties would put our government in a delicate position. As previously noted, a Sayeret Maglan team is monitoring the place. In case they move the missile, we will be informed immediately. If they launch the missile, I am sure our defense systems can destroy the missile in flight.”
The PM turned towards the Chief of Staff Klein and nodded.
“We know Syria used this type of missiles in the northern part of their country against DAESH. The Americans provided us with the satellite imagery of the operations. The missiles fell in empty spaces, way off their target. A few months ago, Syria launched two Tishreen missiles towards Israel. Our Iron Dome intercepted successfully one of them, and it fell on the Syrian side of the border. The second missile destroyed itself while it was still in Syrian airspace. Apparently, they aimed them on DAESH troops in the south of Syria stationed dangerously close to our border. That is to say, gentlemen, that with the short-range Iron Dome, the mid-altitude David’s Sling and the long-range high-altitude Barak 8 anti-missile systems we are protected from any missiles attack. Although these systems are not 100%, the risks of a missile getting through are acceptable.”
“Are they on alert?”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
“So, what do you propose Tamir, besides our defense systems?”
“We are continuing to watch the place where we think they are hiding the missile. I think we should have dedicated F-16s on patrol just for this mission, with the order to take out the missile if the terrorists move from their hiding place.”
“Tamir,” said the PM. “You cannot bomb the missile like that. We have to consider the collateral damage. The shooting order will have to be confirmed by myself and the Chief of Staff. We cannot afford to have the entire world on our back because of dead civilians.”
The PM turned towards the Director of the Military Intelligence Directorate (AMAN) Reuven Biton and asked,
“Reuven, what have you got to say?”
“Thank you, Prime Minister. We are closely monitoring the situation and coordinating the information with Tamir and Amit. We are reporting every hour to the Chief of Staff General Klein.”
“We put on alert another Sayeret Matkal team in case there is a need for a search and rescue mission for our boys in Damascus. We are deploying our best men and best equipment to make sure they get back home safely.”
“Sayeret Matkal is the equivalent of the SAS in England or Delta Force in the US. They are specialized in helicopter exfiltration from behind enemy lines. They don’t mind fighting their way in or their way out if Israeli lives are at danger.”
“Defense Minister?”,
“Thank you, Leron. I suggest we contact the Swiss Embassy and send through them a back channel message to Assad, saying that we will hold him responsible for any attack from Syrian soil and that we will retaliate with much more force. Maybe we should also talk to the Russian Ambassador, to convey a notice to the Iranians. What do you say?”
The Prime Minister checked discreetly his watch. He was already late for the next meeting.
“All right. I will inform the Foreign Affairs Minister to do the necessary with the embassies. I see that all the precautions have been taken. On the ground in Syria, we will continue to monitor the situation. We need to prepare a retaliation plan and have it ready. Defense Minister and Chief of Staff, please send me that plan by tomorrow night for the approval of the cabinet. I want everything to be ready before we step down on Sunday. Normally this is our last meeting before the new government comes into effect, and I hope we don’t have an emergency before that. Whatever happens, I want our boys safely back home. Please keep me informed of the progression hour by hour. Thank you all.”
33- Friday 6:30 pm
Al-Kisweh
It would be dark in three hours. Ghassan cleaned the sweat from his brow with a cloth and tried to clean the grit from his hands. They had worked all day to attach the cable to the transformer on the pylon and to pull it to the entrance of the basement.
He watched Fuad uncoil the cable towards the warehouse to make sure it reached the truck. The cable was heavy, and on the way to the basement it got stuck in the rubble. Fuad and Karim had to go out and untangle the mess without damaging the cable.
Whenever Ghassan thought about his family, he felt a heavy weight on his chest. Yesterday, he had asked Abu Amr repeatedly to let him call his father and hear the voices of his wife and children. At the end he answered he would check with his superiors, but there had not been an answer yet. He asked Abu Amr if he had received any answers concerning his request, but his answer had been vague. He felt helpless in front of this situation. He dreaded the idea that after the launch of the missile, he and his family would be expendable. He just hoped the hijackers would keep their promise and let him flee with his family to Lebanon. He had a distant uncle living in Bechamoun, 10 km south of Beirut. Once, a few years ago, when he was visiting his father, he had said that they lived in a big house that could accommodate many visitors. Ghassan hoped he could shelter his family until he rented a house for himself. He promised himself that when he would be reunited with his family, he would spend all his time with them. He had been away too long and had not seen his children grow.
He had no idea about the plans of the PIJ, or their target, but he suspected it would be somewhere in Israel.
He wondered if the hijackers knew the real capacities of the missile. Although it looked like a Fateh-110, the similarity was just in the body. In reality, it was an advanced missile called Fateh-313, which was the most recent version and the most successful of this family of weapons. The self-guidance system was very precise. The missile had a counter-counter-missile system which would activate itself as soon as an acquisition radar detected it.
The advantage of being a ballistic missile was that it flew very high, further than the atmosphere. It was very difficult at these altitudes to hit it with an interceptor missile. When the Fateh fell back into the atmosphere, it reached three to four times the speed of the sound, making it very difficult to intercept.
A ballistic missile was most vulnerable when it launched because the surveillance satellites overhead could detect its large smoke plume and heat signature. The first 1000 meters before it gained momentum and reached supersonic speeds were critical.
During its trajectory, the missile was constantly receiving signals from GPS satellites. The on-board computer calculated its precise position, checked the result against the coordinates entered in the computer before the launch, and adjusted its trajectory by moving the fins.
To improve the precision of the missile, an auto-lock system that could be activated by a signal from a source on the ground had been added. It could be the signal of a laser pointer or a homing device like a transponder.
The coordinates had to be introduced in the guidance system before launching. To gain access to the computer in the truck’s cabin, Fuad had to enter his password to unlock it, then as the coordinates were entered, Ghassan had to validate the process with another password, before the firing sequence could start. It all took about 15 minutes.
Inside the warehouse, the PIJ militiamen were resting, waiting for their turn to guard the entrance. Abu Amr was smoking nervously and pacing the warehouse. He sometimes received phone calls, after which he yelled at the engineer and Karim to hurry…
Ghassan knew that to make a launch test, he would have to drive the truck outside, in open air. There was not enough space above the missile to make the test inside the warehouse. Taking the truck out meant doing it after darkness fell and after the people living nearby disappeared from the streets. That is, if they could connect the cable to the truck and that the electrical grid of Damascus was not off, as it w
as on many nights. In case of an air attack alert, the government shut down the electricity to make it difficult for the attacking airplanes to identify their targets. Ghassan thought it was a useless precaution, because the airplanes did not rely on visual identification any more to mark their targets. It was all done electronically, with the help of a link from a UAV or an AWACS plane high above.
He looked at the generator on the floor. When the truck would be connected to the grid, they had planned to start the generator and let it work until it died on its own. In case of power failure, the generator could give them the few minutes needed to launch the missile.
34- Friday 7:00 pm
Iranian Al Quds Intelligence HQ
Damascus International Airport
Mirza Dogairi looked at the airport tarmac below him through the soundproof window of his eleventh-floor office. He liked to joke when they called it Damascus International Airport, because it didn’t have much in the way of international flights. The airlines who used it were minimal: besides a few Aeroflot cargo planes or sometimes a Venezuelan aircraft transiting to Teheran, there was not much international activity to talk about.
Mirza worried because he was still expecting a return call from Darib. Was he playing a game of his own, or was he already in direct contact with the Syrians? If Hezbollah was playing a game on its own to recover the missile and move it somewhere safe for a later usage, Mirza and his boss would be in trouble with Assad for having let that happen.
He wanted to be the one to bring the missile back to its owner and get credit for the efficiency of his intelligence network. After all, they had sent him to Syria to improve relations with Assad, but also to show him the extent of Iranian capacities.
However, a new thought kept nagging: what if the Israelis had snatched the missile? They would put their hands on the latest Iranian technology, and that would be a big setback for Iran. Not only for their position in Syria, but for their position against the Zionist entity in the whole Middle East. He had to put himself in the enemy's place; if they had snatched it, they would have dismantled it by now, taken away the technology they wanted, and destroyed the rest. The Syrians would never know who was behind the hijacking, but the Iranians would never be sure that their advanced technology was not in the hands of the Zionists, and in case of doubt they would have to act as if they had it. Iran had a lot to lose in this affair.
It was important now to get back the missile intact, but also, to get the crew who did this alive, so he could interrogate them. He didn’t trust the Syrian Special Forces for not damaging the missile, or for not being heavy-handed with the crew, as they proved to be in the past. They were renowned for having rarely accomplished a mission with any prisoners alive.
There was a knock on the door, and his secretary Arya came in.
“Commander Darib is on the phone, Sir.”
Finally, he reflected as he jumped for the phone.
“Yes, Darib, what took you so long?”
“I had to make sure before telling you. My soldiers found out a group of men wearing PIJ uniforms hiding in a basement of the Al-Kisweh Industrial Zone. Last night on the Damascus road, they intercepted a van with PIJ militiamen and an Air Force Sergeant at a roadblock. They were carrying electrical materials. They said their group was in maneuvers around the Industrial Zone, but I checked, and there are no maneuvers announced in that area. I already sent a team to watch them. They are in position and ready to report on any activity.”
“Did your men identify the missile?”
“No, they didn’t yet. I don’t want them to approach too close. The hijackers put sentries at the entrance of the building. I want them to relax, assuming they have not been discovered. Eventually they will have to come out and we will see the truck.”
“Darib, you had the information since last night and you are telling me now! Did you contact your Syrian friends yet?”
After a pause at the other end of the line, Darib said:
“Mirza, you are the first who I am telling the location. You know me! But what is our position now? What do we do? Eventually I must tell the Syrians.”
There was a risk of having Syrian soldiers and Hezbollah face-to-face, and that meant fresh problems.
“Keep your positions,” he said to Darib, “I must come up with a plan. I will call you later.” And the line went dead.
35- Friday 7:20 pm
Syrian Air Intelligence HQ
Damascus
Captain Hamza looked at the report handed to him by a good-looking woman, but could never remember her name. He usually liked to flirt with her, but now he ignored her. The news she had just brought in preoccupied him. A phone call between a Hezbollah Commander and the Iranian Intelligence recorded just a while ago, proving, finally, that the ungrateful Shias were conspiring against the Syrians. He had now in his hands the proof he had waited for so long; he hoped his superior Colonel Latif would convince President Assad to distance himself from the Shia alliance. He had caught them red-handed. So, Hezbollah thought they had discovered the whereabouts of the truck and informed the Iranians first, instead of the Syrian Air Intelligence. It was outrageous. He rushed to the Colonel’s office.
When he saw the report, the Colonel’s face reddened. He had called the Iranian himself, and now the despicable puppet was complotting against him. He saw now into Mirza’s game: he wanted to take the credit and ridicule him and his office.
“Thank you, Hamza. We now have an excellent opportunity to turn this against the Iranians and Hezbollah and give those Shias what they deserve.”
“Sir, we have to send troops to secure the place before anything happens to the missile. I would have sent a platoon of Special Forces, but the 14th, 15th and the 25th are mobilized for operation against the DAESH terrorists in Idlib. I doubt they could spare some troops. But we could use a platoon of paratrooper commandos.”
“For that you will have to kiss the pompous ass of Colonel Farad.”
I am used to kissing ass, thought Hamza.
“I will do it if it is necessary, Sir.”
“Hmm… Farad is a nosy guy. He will want the whole story about the missile, but I am not prepared to let him know about it. Then he will want the command of the operation. No, that’s not a good idea. I don’t want to deal with the Republican Guard. I would rather do it under my command and with normal soldiers than let Farad do it.”
“Sir, we could use a platoon of voluntaries from the 5th Corps. There is a brigade stationed close to Al-Kisweh. I am sure they can allocate troops.”
“That’s a good idea. Ask Colonel Al-Kaswadi to send a platoon at once, but give him my instructions: they must take position without the knowledge of the troops already on the field and they are not to open fire on the Hezbollah troops, or whoever the hijackers are, unless they are being attacked. Establish an open line with the platoon so they keep us informed of anything that happens.”
“Yes Sir,” said Captain Hamza.
“… and Hamza, get in touch with the commander of the 9th Armored Brigade; they are stationed somewhere in the south of Damascus. Ask them to assemble an assault platoon reinforced by armored vehicles and let us know when they are ready. Get me on the phone with General Shafiq Fayadh, I will get him to sign the authorizations while you get the commander.”
“Yes Sir, at once.” said Hamza as he hurried to his office.
Time was not on their side. The word about the missile could spread at any moment; the recovery must be completed in total discretion and without raising the interest of too many people.
36- Friday 8:30 pm
Mossad HQ
Tel Aviv
Tamir was looking at the rising smoke of his cigarette in the ashtray. He itched for a smoke and a deep drag. At this time of the day, he had already consumed his daily quota of half a pack. To compensate for his lack of nicotine, he pumped himself with theine and poured himself another glass of black tea.
This missile business preoccupied his mind. At thi
s afternoon’s meeting with the NSC he had downplayed it, but the threat was real, and time was not on his side. The longer it took for the Israelis to act, the more chances of the hijackers launching the missile. He hoped it was an internal Syrian matter, but his gut feeling told him it was not. Israel was in danger.
The intercom buzzed.
“Yes Clarit,”
“Sir, I have Avraham Levi on the phone for you.”
Avraham was the head of Shin Bet. Their job was to collect data and conduct counter-terrorism operations on Israeli soil and the West Bank. They had agents disguised as locals roaming among the Arab population to collect intelligence and to snatch suspected Palestinians for interrogation. However, in the Gaza strip it was another business. Since the Israeli disengagement from Gaza, operations had been more difficult and more dangerous. The army could not just move as a backup in case of a problem; but they still had several agents running a network of residents. They were usually manipulated to work for the Israelis, most of the time convincing them they were working for an Islamic faction against another one. There were a lot of groups and factions in Gaza.
He took the line.
“Hi Avraham, I hope you come with good news…”
“Hi Tamir. I have news from Gaza, but it’s never good news, is it? We are getting reports that something big is under preparation. Something will happen in the coming days. I called to ask if you had any intelligence that could be useful to verify that threat.”
Tamir paused. He wanted to avoid divulging too much information on what was happening in Syria.
“Look, I got some tidbits that the Syrians are planning a terrorist attack on the Golan Heights.”
“Interesting… What else do you know about it?”
“…”
“Come on Tamir, we work for the same boss, don’t we? So tell me what you know.”
“Avraham, the information we have at this moment is still sketchy. All I can tell you is that it will involve Syria and the Golan. I will let you know as soon as I have more information.”
