Trail of Blood

by Uzi Eilam

  “How was Berlin? And more importantly, how are you coming along with the plan at the university?”

  “The postdoc was a wonderful process that made me see things differently, mostly thanks to Dr. Jawad Arash, the Iranian scientist who opened new doors for me at the university. He also introduced me to a group of German officers who were in the SS Special Units. They have stayed in touch, and don’t hide their hatred toward the United States, for defeating Germany in the World War, as well as for the Jewish state, which they despise. Those views are right up my alley, and I didn’t hesitate to tell them so.”

  “Really? Very interesting, Nimer. That’s a point worth considering in preparation for the future.”

  “Ahh… I agree it’s not a bad idea at all. As for the university, I’m hoping to complete a document specifying the details of my new program within the auspices of the Faculty of Sciences in the next couple of days. But I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to talk about.”

  “Indeed, there is something new I wanted to update you on. It concerns you and will require you to take some time off from your academic career, as we need you to dedicate your talents to some important activity in Iraq. And as far as the element of surprise, Nimer, you’re already familiar with my theory about the importance of initiative. If we don’t take the initiative, our enemies will come along and catch us by surprise.”

  “Yes, Imad, I’m familiar with this principle of yours and agree one-hundred percent, but what exactly is this mission in Iraq?”

  “It concerns a special request by Iraq to help them improve the performance of their long-range missiles.”

  “Why is Saddam Hussein turning to us? As far as we know, when it comes to missile technology, Iraq receives support and consultation from the SRC Corporation, founded by the late Gerald Bull. That genius cultivated a team of successors specializing in missile technology. What could I possibly add to that?”

  “We’re flying to Baghdad in two days, and already have a meeting scheduled with the president. I estimate Saddam Hussein, who is known as a manipulator, wants to have another source of technological aid. He has heard of you, and don’t be surprised to realize how plugged in that dictator is. Don’t worry about your sister Jamila and your son,” Mughniyeh was quick to put his mind at ease. “We’ll continue to take care of your family and look after their welfare when you’re on duty abroad. Jamila trusts us. Just tell her you’ll be away for a few days.”

  “And under what guise am I appearing there? In what role?”

  “Ahh… There’s no reason not to present yourself as a Lebanese citizen, but don’t use your own name. In fact, our experts are already in the final stages of preparing everything required for your new identity.”

  ***

  During the flight to Baghdad, Mughniyeh told Nimer with pride how he had managed to convince Iraq’s suspicious president to include another advisor in the missile project, and Nimer received the news with mixed emotions. He was glad to get a chance to meet Dr. Bull’s disciples but was unsure that he would be able to contribute any knowledge beyond what had already been achieved by SRC’s scientists.

  “You should know, Nimer,” Mughniyeh said, sensing his hesitation, “that after hearing of the method you developed for remote activation of missiles with a particularly high level of accuracy, President Saddam Hussein issued an invitation for us to meet him at his palace.”

  “Really? Then maybe I should be preparing for the meeting? What does one say to that almighty cruel despot?”

  “You don’t have to make any special preparations. What you know and the information you’ve acquired in Germany and in the course of our collaboration will be enough. Your instincts will tell you what you should and should not say.”

  ***

  Saddam Hussein’s main palace in Baghdad was merely one of many dozens of palaces built throughout the country, all intended to contribute to glorifying the president’s status and might. The massive structure, made entirely of marble, was impressive; it only underscored the immense chasm between the ruler and his people, who lived in poverty and deprivation. A series of blockades by Presidential Guard soldiers ensured that no hostile element would enter the secured “sterile” zone. The president was very sensitive about his personal security, Mughniyeh explained, after several assassination attempts that were never revealed to the public.

  “The president himself does know your true identity, Nimer, and that’s how I intend to introduce you.”

  “Welcome,” the president called out from where he sat at a massive mahogany table. Nimer and Mughniyeh entered Saddam Hussein’s chamber with their heads bowed, following the office manager. A half-circle of elegant Louis XIV-style chairs stood across from the table, two of them occupied by people who stood up when the guests entered the room. Nimer recognized one of the men as an Iraqi general, but the other, fair skinned, wearing glasses, his hair thinning, did not look local.

  “Sit down,” the president commanded. “What do you have to say today, my friend Mughniyeh?”

  “Mr. President, thank you for dedicating some of your precious time to us. I want to introduce Dr. Nimer Al-Khaldi, who has joined our holy efforts to strike down American and Jewish infidels wherever they are. Dr. Al-Khaldi has already proven his talents in the attacks we carried out in Lebanon, and thanks to him, we banished American, French, and Israeli army units from our country. He has been sharing his skills on the subject of rockets and missiles with us.”

  “I’ve heard about your precision missile idea, Dr. Al-Khaldi. It’s impressive, and I congratulate you on your technological success, which has helped us significantly,” the president issued a surprising statement. “I am convinced that technology is the key to success on the battlefield. We spare no expenses when it comes to developing advanced systems, as Dr. Peter Thompson, president of the SRC Corporation—founded by Dr. Bull, may Allah avenge his blood—can testify.” The president pointed at the mystery guest. “I’ve asked Dr. Thompson to take part in today’s meeting.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President, sir,” Nimer replied. “I’m glad to help, but your people are the ones doing the work, and they deserve the praise.”

  “We’re honored to meet the scientist Dr. Thompson, whose reputation precedes him,” Mughniyeh hurried to add. “We would be grateful, Mr. President, to establish cooperation between Dr. Al-Khaldi and Dr. Thompson. I’m sure only good things will ensue from their collaboration.”

  “I’ve seen the outline for the precision missiles you’ve developed, Dr. Al-Khaldi, and I was impressed by their simplicity and efficiency,” Dr. Thompson noted after the president nodded, allowing him to speak. “I’ll be happy to meet you at the lab the president has placed at my disposal and share with you some of the current topics that we’re exploring. Another pair of eyes, and mainly a creative mind like yours, will certainly be of use to us.” Thompson paused briefly, glancing at the president with concern.

  “I authorize sharing your projects with Dr. Al-Khaldi, Dr. Thompson. You should remember the date when you told me the strategic-range cannon would become operational. And you still haven’t finished extending the range of the Scud-B missiles. . .”

  “We’ll keep our promise, Mr. President,” Thompson whispered.

  “You’re well aware of what happens to those who don’t keep their promises…” the president thundered. “Now get to work, and bring back results.”

  Chapter 12

  The lab in which SRC’s team was working was in a small village several miles away from the city of Baghdad. A network of fences equipped with powerful lighting as well as cameras monitoring occurrences around the site twenty-four hours a day surrounded the area. The large number of soldiers in and around the site was a clear indication of the importance of the facility.

  “It’s so good to meet you again,” Thompson greeted Nimer, who had arrived at the lab facility in a car provided by the p
resident’s bureau, along with a driver and a personal bodyguard. “We can talk freely here,” he noted. “I understand you’ve cleared your schedule for the entire day?”

  “Indeed, I have, I’m curious to see how you’re running this enterprise. I understand that thanks to the president’s support, money is not an issue.”

  “Yes, you’re right, but that, of course, is related to the topics we’ve been assigned to deal with; ones that are very close to the president’s heart.”

  “From the little I’ve learned, you’re developing long-range missiles, but there’s also another top-secret topic that no one dares to talk about?”

  “It’s true, we’re investing major efforts in sticking to the timeline I’ve given the president in regard to increasing the range of the Russian Scud-B missiles. Iraq has a large stock of Scuds, but trade limitations concerning strategic materials are restricting our progress.”

  One of Thompson’s people hurried to open a thick file containing diagrams demonstrating the potential of the enhanced Scud missile. A quick scan of the diagrams convinced Nimer that the design had been constructed professionally. But something was missing in what Nimer had managed to see, though he did not have time to go into it in depth.

  “I’d be happy to delve into the heart of this topic and see what I can contribute,” Nimer began cautiously. “And what about the secret project? After all, the president authorized revealing all the projects to me?”

  “Right, I remember the president’s authorization, but we still don’t have anything to show you here other than theoretical diagrams and basic formulas. How would you like to be our guest at the test range, where the cutting-edge aeronautical labs are located?”

  “Range? Labs? Here in Iraq?”

  “No, my friend. It’s located far away on the exotic island of Barbados. I’m planning to fly there in order to complete some development topics that can only be carried out in the test field labs. Come as our guest, and you can learn about everything we’re working on.”

  “I’d be happy to be your guest. Are you talking about two or three days?”

  “Yes. I’m planning to fly there in two days, and you’ll have time to tie some loose ends on this project.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll check with Mughniyeh, and I hope there won’t be any problems clearing my schedule for those three days.”

  On the drive back to Baghdad, Nimer was flooded by a wave of joyous thoughts. What a unique opportunity I’m getting here, he thought, having a hard time believing this was indeed happening to him. There aren’t a lot of people like the students of the legendary Dr. Bull, and certainly not ones who would be willing to share the information with me. Mughniyeh certainly won’t object. This fits right in with his strategy regarding the importance of technological knowledge for our future plans. The smile did not leave Nimer’s lips until they reached Baghdad.

  ***

  The American Airlines plane landed at a late hour of the night in Palonegro International Airport (BGA), about six miles east of Bridgetown, the capital of the island of Barbados. There were few passengers flying at this late hour. They included Peter Thompson, well-known and appreciated by everyone in Barbados, as well as a man with blond hair and glasses who identified himself as Dr. Nimesdorf. Theirs was the last aircraft landing in the airport for the day, and the passport control and customs clerks were eager to end their day and spared the passengers any unnecessary inspections.

  “A hotel room has been booked for you, Dr. Nimesdorf, and one of my people will drive you there. He will also pick you up tomorrow morning for a visit at the test site of our company, SRC.”

  “Thanks, Peter. I appreciate the rare opportunity to be your guest here and to learn from you.”

  The first day with Dr. Thompson and his people was dedicated mostly to technical presentations and a detail-laden visit at the test site. Bull’s students were Canadian and American engineers who had been won over by his charm and had followed him through hell and high water. The experiments were conducted on naval cannons with a sixteen-inch diameter and a stock whose length had been doubled by forging two stocks together. To Nimer, they resembled dinosaur-era monsters. Dr. Thompson joined this stage of the visit, and Nimer followed the long-limbed man as he moved with ease and agility, as if floating in space.

  “The vast experience we’ve acquired with these naval cannons,” Thompson explained, “has allowed us to offer Saddam Hussein the strategic cannon he’s been dreaming of. We’ll continue working on completing the development of the idea conceived by our great teacher Gerald Bull in the labs you visited near Baghdad. This is a top-secret project intended to launch a charge of hundreds of pounds to ranges of hundreds of miles. But our more urgent challenge has to do with extending the range of the Scud-B missiles. Heaven help us if we don’t meet Saddam Hussein’s expectations.”

  “And what’s the goal here?” Nimer was curious. “What kind of range is Saddam aiming for with the Scuds?”

  “About three hundred miles. That would almost double the current range of Scud-B missiles.”

  At the end of a long data-filled day, Dr. Thompson invited his guest to the Gulf Whispers restaurant. The beautiful building, constructed right on the beach, had an elegant design. Thompson was already waiting for the visitor at the table with the manager of the test site. On Thompson’s right sat a dark-skinned young woman who was breathtakingly beautiful. Peter Thompson rose from his chair and shook Dr. Nimesdorf’s hand warmly while introducing the Barbados project’s PR assistant. Carmen, he said, belonged to a rich, esteemed family from the city of Holetown. She had a Business Administration degree from Harvard University.

  The maître d’ responded to a signal from Dr. Thompson; apparently, their host was a guest of honor at the restaurant. The array of appetizers included a warm lobster salad served on a bed of lettuce with thin slices of mushroom, truffles in balsamic vinegar and tropical salsa, fried foie gras served on brioche with caramelized onions and apple mash, and deep-fried fish cakes served with arugula salad.

  The meal passed pleasantly, with light, breezy conversation that touched upon various topics. It was impossible not to be impressed by Thompson’s breadth of knowledge, as well as by his ability to achieve his goals under the guise of light social banter. As the conversation flowed, engaging the table as a whole, Thompson described his experiences as a young engineer in Canada working under Dr. Bull. He constantly praised the late scientist, whose contribution to the SRC Corporation was still evident to this day.

  “My dear friend,” Thompson addressed the guest. “You’ve had a long, exhausting day, and the first firing round tomorrow is scheduled for seven a.m. You deserve some rest…”

  Nimer was happy to sprawl out in the pampering bed but could not fall asleep. Thoughts of Carmen were relentless, even when she was not around.

  Ordering a wakeup call proved to be a wise decision, and the test field engineer was already waiting at the entrance to the hotel in order to bring the guest to the test field’s main control room. People sitting across from screens read out the main data noted, one after the other. Peter Thompson turned to the guest satisfied that another experiment was apparently going to end successfully. Nimer was impressed by the man’s determination as well as by the charisma and quiet leadership he projected. He realized how Thompson caused people not merely to obey him but also to do their best to succeed. After the launches ended, Thompson asked the guest to come into his office for a private conversation. He extracted the Scud-B upgrade file from a secret storage compartment.

  “I saw your face when we showed you the plans to expand the missiles’ range in Iraq. What was bothering you?”

  “I didn’t have enough time to delve into it, but I thought that something seemed to be missing…” Nimer was surprised by Thompson’s sharp eye and sensitive perception. “If I could take a peek at the place in the file that caught my attention, I could tel
l you with greater confidence what was bugging me.”

  Nimer perused the file for a long time while Peter Thompson went about his own affairs until he sensed his guest was ready to talk.

  “Your plan is based on reducing the weight of the warhead, and it looks like that won’t be enough. Even if you manufacture a warhead weighing about 200 pounds, the rocket won’t reach the required range.”

  “Indeed, that’s what is troubling us, too. What do you think we can do?”

  “I think the key is the size of the rocket’s engine. Since you can’t easily purchase strategic materials, you have to rely on the existing stock of Scud-B missiles.”

  “Meaning?”

  “They have numerous Scud-B missiles in Iraq. I believe you can dismantle one missile and get two engines, each of which will be attached to an existing missile. You could call it ‘Two Out of Three’ and achieve fifty percent more thrust for the new missile. This arrangement will leave the warheads at a size and weight sufficient for a variety of munitions in the missiles.”

  “Dr. Nimesdorf my friend, if I may call you that, that’s a charmingly simple solution. A truly brilliant upgrade that’s easy to implement. Why didn’t we think of that? Well, it always helps to have another set of eyes, and mostly someone with a good head on his shoulders. I will immediately instruct my people in Baghdad to prepare the engine parts from a dismantled missile in order to assemble an enhanced missile. Way to go!”

  The sky the next morning was clear without a shadow of a cloud, which bode well for the proper operation of the test field’s control apparatus. Nimer felt excellent after his meeting with Thompson and getting a sense of his appreciation. Several minutes before ten in the morning, Nimer and his escort arrived at the control hall and met Dr. Thompson, already in the midst of briefings and receiving updates on the state of the preparations. Nimer’s heart soared within him when he saw that Carmen had arrived onsite as well. She looked fresh, pretty and even more attractive than he had remembered. Nimer felt the young woman was paying special attention to him, which somewhat confused him, disrupting his focus. Most of the day was dedicated to the experimental shooting of the naval cannons, which were sixteen inches in diameter, and to technical explanations that Thompson took care to elaborate upon to Nimer.