Leaving the square and driving out toward the airport, Ibrahim found a filling station where he purchased gasoline, bread, sliced lamb, and bottles of water and tea for the trip. He then drove west through Fallujah and on to the long bridge spanning the Euphrates. By the time he reached the village of Ramadi, the streets were deserted and darkness had fallen with the suddenness so familiar to anyone who lived in desert country. He parked his van in a side alley and in time was aware of other trucks and vans, with headlights off, moving into positions along the side roads.
In time the vehicle activity tapered off, and silence descended over the town. The night was cool and silent; there were no sounds from the town or the surrounding dessert. Sitting in his van with the windows rolled down, Ibrahim found the unfamiliar silence unnerving. He knew there were many fellow transporters around him but he expected to sense their presence by the sounds of conversation or just the shuffle of feet in the dirt side streets. There was just silence, making him feel like he was the only living thing for hundreds of miles.
Ibrahim suddenly recoiled in fear as a dark form appeared next to his window and asked in a hushed voice, “Do you have your letter of conveyance?” A red flashlight revealed a pistol pointed at Ibrahim’s head. This ISIS soldier was dressed completely in black with a black skull-cap and scarf that revealed only his eyes. Ibrahim fished carefully into his shirt pocket and presented the letter given to him hours before by the produce merchant. After a quick examination of the paper, the ISIS combatant returned the paper and motioned for Ibrahim to proceed out into the main highway where now other darkened vehicles were beginning to move.
The long line of vehicles was faintly visible in the darkness. It was slowly beginning to move forward when another man in black carrying an assault rifle opened Ibrahim’s passenger-side door and hopped into the seat next to him. He said nothing, and since Ibrahim was the newcomer to this operation, he made no acknowledgement and both men rode forward in silence. Ibrahim wondered if there were armed men in black riding in each of the vehicles, and perhaps squads with heavy weapons riding in the back of the larger trucks. What have I gotten myself into?
The convoy rode on through the night in silence, with no stopping along the way, until they approached Ar Rat bah. At this point, once the convoy had stopped, the ISIS fighter got out of Ibrahim’s van and said in a hushed voice, “Wait here until the convoy again begins to move. If you come under fire, quickly drive off the road and into a wadi, or a side street if you are in the town.” He then vanished into the darkness.
Ibrahim saw other fighters in black slipping out of the vehicles and disappearing off to the north of the highway. After he had waited for twenty minutes he heard the sound of engines starting. The convoy was again on the move.
He drove slowly forward, following the long line of vehicles westward toward Ar Rat bah. After fifteen minutes of slow driving, Ibrahim noticed lights far ahead. Flash lights were being waved in front of the convoy, either by local militia or by a patrol of Iraqi troops. He knew that the ISIS rebels who had disembarked two hours earlier would not halt the convoy in this manner, exposing its position.
Suddenly gunfire erupted from the right side of the road near the front of the column. Almost immediately a much larger muzzle blast flared nearby and a vehicle three positions ahead of Ibrahim exploded into flaming pieces, one of which fell next to his van. He immediately drove off the highway to the left and down a long embankment into what appeared to be a stream bed or wadi. The attack continued, but after four or five explosions from mortars or cannon fire, the sounds of battle calmed down. No more cannon shells or vehicles exploded nearby.
Ibrahim saw men running down into the wadi and exchanging fire with their pursuers. He quickly rolled from the driver’s seat of the van onto the ground to take cover from the gunfire. The gunfire became less frequent and finally stopped.
The night subsided into a frightening stillness. What threat now lurked in the nearby darkness? Ibrahim lay motionless on the ground next to his van, almost unwilling to breathe for fear of exposing his position. Suddenly he was startled by a dark figure standing next to him holding a rifle with a second slung across his shoulder.
“We are now safe to continue our trip to Damascus. May I ride with you again?” The ISIS fighter had found him.
As they drove out of the wadi and rejoined the convoy, Ibrahim was aware of the deep throated roar and track rattle of combat vehicles that had joined the convoy.
His companion now relaxed in the front seat. “We carried out a most successful attack on that Iraqi patrol. We captured over thirty M16 rifles and four Bradley vehicles. The Caliph will be very pleased.”
Ibrahim realized that he, along with all the other merchants on this journey, including the ones killed in the attack, had just served as decoys in a well-planned ISIS move to capture military equipment and assassinate Iraqi soldiers, their bodies left strewn along some wadi. Though bile rose in his throat, he forced it back and continued driving on toward Syria in silence hoping that there would be no more violence. At the border it became obvious that there had recently been an attack here as well because the entire convoy was waved through by two armed ISIS fighters. There were no official border guards in sight.
The convoy stopped again when it reached the town of Sab’ Bi’ Ar. The faint light of dawn was causing the eastern sky behind them to glow red. This time there was no shooting, just shouts of joy as the local ISIS group took control of the Bradleys and moved them into cover and out of sight of Syrian aircraft. Food and tea was shared among the merchants and rebels in the cool light of morning.
Ibrahim’s ISIS hitchhiker returned to the van with a second companion, both dressed in civilian clothes. As they both got into the front passenger seat he said, “We will go with you to Damascus. We have been assigned to you to help with the sale of your goods and the transport of cash to our leader.”
From this point onward toward Damascus each vehicle was on its own. The rest of the drive was more like a morning commute with the masked, black-clad fighters now traveling companions. Ibrahim and his agents were just other merchants on their way to market in Damascus. When they reached the city Ibrahim insisted that he first find an apartment in a safe part of the city, away from any fighting. Next, he let his two companions help him unload the crates of nuts and then inventory each crate in order to fill the ones from which he had previously sold or given some of the individual bags.
One last crate remained in the van. Ibrahim counted the number of bags missing from the other crates and refilled them from this last crate. “We can leave this last, partly filled crate here at my apartment, since it is incomplete. Help me bring it inside where it will be safe. We can sell the full crates at the central market in bulk. That way we will be done in a few hours. I will worry about selling off the remaining individual bags later.”
The three struggled to lift out the last crate and carry it into Ibrahim’s new apartment.
“Why is this crate so heavy?” asked the first agent as he struggled to lift it up the steps.
“It contains a computer that I smuggled out of Iran. I will tell you later what kind of attack on the enemies of ISIS I have decided to carry out with it. I must first tell your supreme leader, the Caliph, of my plans, and ask his permission to undertake this attack.”
The ISIS agent who had ridden across Iraq with him said, “I was told in Bagdad you might have something additional to contribute to our cause. I will arrange a meeting with the Caliph tomorrow.”
Over the next few days Ibrahim worked with the two ISIS agents who helped him market the Pistachios and transfer the proceeds to the Caliph. Later that month he was able to convince these same two loyal agents, whose identities were carefully hidden by forged papers, to join with him in an attack against the enemies of ISIS by sabotaging CERN. The two men were led to believe that this plan was only an ISIS attack.
In his meeting with the Caliph, Ibrahim had presented his plan as his own perso
nal desire to carry out a devastating cyber-attack on the ATLAS detector in the most critical section of CERN. The attack had been approved with enthusiasm for it would be a strong blow in the war against the Americans and their European allies, whom the Caliph identified as the modern crusader army, his sworn enemy.
Handing a folder of papers and a small flash drive to the first agent, Ibrahim said, “Here is a detailed layout of the floor-plan of Building 40 and the access to the underground control office for the ATLAS detector. This area is not carefully guarded and you should be able to reach this control room and pick the lock. Once inside you simply need to turn on the control panel and insert this flash drive into the USB port on the side of the key pad. The virus will eventually do the rest.”
“How can such a small device destroy such a large object?” asked the second agent, looking with astonishment at the photographs of the gigantic ATLAS detector.
“This flash drive contains a virus that will infect the control program. In fact, after it has downloaded its computer virus, you must remove it from the control keyboard and hide it on your person in case you are stopped and searched upon leaving. When tests are run on Monday, the 9th of June, the instructions contained in this tiny device will be activated and cause the control computer to destroy the detector, along with much of the surrounding facility which has become a den of Satan worshipers. You must study these plans carefully and prepare for this important mission because time is of the essence. You have flight reservations tonight for arrival in Geneva tomorrow morning.”
The two ISIS agents prepared to carry out their mission with no real understanding of its potential impact. To them, the lack of knives, guns, or bombs on a combat mission made the entire effort somewhat childish. Were they fighting or just playing? Nevertheless, they were careful in their approach to the CERN facility, having driven north from Geneva following their arrival.
As they entered Building 40, wearing the fake security badges Ibrahim had provided for them, the second agent caught his breath and whispered, “This is truly a mosque of Satan worship. Look at its dome, mocking that of the Blue Mosque. I only wish I could stay here to see its destruction!”
The first agent had also noticed the large glass dome and magnificent extent of the building’s lobby. “We must not make ourselves conspicuous. Let’s find our way down to the ATLAS detector.”
The two had dressed in casual Western clothing in order to blend in with the visiting physicists from around the world. They were not stopped as they made their way down to the underground accelerator tunnel. The specified control room was easily located, but, indeed, the door was locked. As one kept watch, the other began working on the lock. Twice during this lock-picking they were interrupted by a passing researcher. In both of these encounters, the two stood in quiet but animated discussion in Farsi, hoping that the passerby would think they were discussing magnetic fields or particles. They were not challenged and eventually the lock yielded. The two agents quickly entered the control room and closed the door, locking it from the inside.
The control monitor and computer were of a standard type and were activated by the push of a power button on the front of the processor. The password that Ibrahim had given them enabled the control program to open. Inserting the flash drive into the USB port, the ISIS agent watched as a small download-and-install window opened, indicating that the virus was entering and being installed into the control program.
“It is done,” he said, as the download ended. Turning off the computer, he proceeded with some difficulty in placing the flash where no security guard would ever want to look. Pausing for a moment while he looked around the room he said, “If we are caught what will be our excuse for entering this room? We should each take something of value from here.” He then reached for a personal IPad left on the table by one of the technicians. He handed his companion a cell phone that had been carefully placed next to the IPad.
As the two left the control room and were making their way to the stairs leading up to the lobby of Building 40, they heard someone down the hallway yell, “Hey! What are you two doing here in this section of the accelerator; this is a restricted area.”
Their choice was to run or to play dumb, acting like they had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Wisely, they chose the latter, shrugging their shoulders and apologizing. The person who had yelled was in fact a security guard who took his responsibility in this critical part of the accelerator very seriously and knew each authorized individual by sight. “You must come with me,” he said and led them back upstairs to the main security office.
It took little effort on the part of the CERN security to recognize the false security badges, find the stolen items, and place these two intruders under arrest with the Swiss police for petty burglary. They were jailed for a short period, fined, and escorted out of the country on a secure bus into Austria where their false passports indicated they held citizenship.
They immediately informed Ibrahim of their successful work at CERN to include their capture, but subsequent release. He responded, “You did well, my friends. I am sure that Satanic Mosque will soon be a pile of rubble, as the ground beneath it explodes and collapses.”
At his apartment Ibrahim contacted Cohen and Spencer in a secure conference call and indicated that he had initiated the attack on CERN and had successfully smuggled the components for their final project out of Iran in a load of Pistachios. He also revealed that he had now separated the components into three packages. He arranged to meet them in Beirut during the first week in June to transfer the packages and lay out plans for the attack. He would bring suitcases containing parts of the device to the top of Saint Nicholas’ Staircase in Beirut at specified times for the transfer.
9
Critical
Subtle is the Lord, malicious He is not.
-Albert Einstein
Six weeks later, on Saturday afternoon of the first week in June, Ibrahim was listening to Benton Spencer. They were sitting together at an outside café of the ABC Mall in eastern Beirut, sipping sweetened tea and talking quietly. Barry and Milford at a nearby table enjoyed ice cream.
Spencer was emphatic. “Our plan of attack at CERN must move forward immediately! Your virus is capable of causing the critical CERN facility to be destroyed, but that control console will be monitored during the test. Unless the person monitoring the current levels in the magnets is distracted or detained in some way he will override the computer.”
“I am sorry,” protested Ibrahim, “there is no way I can get my followers back into the CERN facility. They would be suspected. They could not get past the security guards a second time.”
“I shall not be driven from the call of Allah to bring war against this temple of evil and idol worship. Since there are many American scientists at CERN, I believe that my two followers, dressed as security guards, can enter the critical section of the facility and distract or disable the individual at the monitoring station. If your men return to Switzerland to obtain the appropriate uniforms for them, they will be able to complete the task. I will immediately prepare them for this mission, knowing our third strong arm of this fight against this great idolatry has begun his attack on the final and most vulnerable temple of evil at the South Pole.
“My men have transferred to me the package they received from you here in Beirut. I now have my third of our final weapon against Masia ad Dajjal, the great Satan.” Leaning close to Ibrahim and holding him with his intense gaze, Benton Spencer whispered, “We three shall meet in Jerusalem on the fourteenth for our final victory over evil, where Jesus will return and stand on the rock beside Muhammad to fill the world with justice.”
Ibrahim was swept up in the fervor of Spencer’s words. Surely he knows of the return of the prophet we have sought for centuries now. I believe the Muhammad will soon stand among us at the final day and that idolatry and corruption will be vanquished.
Before Ibrahim had been removed from his position with the Iranian nuclear program,
and humiliated in front of his fellow scientists and engineers, he had extracted the virus from the control computer following the cyber-attack. It was believed that this sabotage had been carried out either by the United States or Israel. The irony was not lost on Ibrahim that he was now joining an American and an Israeli in a plot to use this same computer virus to attack the international particle physics facility at CERN. With Colonel Cohen’s men in place at the supply depot for the Dark Sector Lab, the attacks against the places of idol worship were now underway without opposition.
The following morning Oliver awoke rested and relaxed in his own bed in Chicago. He was tempted to turn on the morning talk shows and just chill out for a change in order to recover from last week’s taxing events. He had other plans, however. He arose and showered. Then he dressed in his suit and tie and drove from his apartment to the church where the day before he had taken part in a funeral Mass for his best friend, Peter Newbury.
The sanctuary was just filling with worshippers in the early service. He crossed himself with holy water and lit a candle for Peter before finding a pew to enter and sit. Although he had grown up in a Methodist church, he felt comfortable and welcome here in Father Pat’s church. Unlike the Latin funeral rite the afternoon before, this service was in English.
Oliver was impressed by the gentle delivery of Father Ryan as he presented his homily. The theme was the power of faith. He gave many examples of how the simple faith in God, through Jesus Christ, would guide one through the most difficult times, and emphasized that too often man relied on himself for help rather than on God. The biblical passage that Father Pat gently delivered was from Proverbs: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and don’t lean on your own understanding.”
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