Light of the Sun: They always make a mistake and when they do, we kill them...

by David Costa

  ‘Good morning gentlemen how are we today?’

  It always amazed the two men that the Arab would always be in his in Western mode from his clothing to his everyday language and greeting.

  ‘Good morning my friend and may Allah be with you.’

  The Arab noticed two things, first, that General Malek Hasheem Khomeini greeted him in English, and second, apart from the Islamic blessing, was that he called him friend but no name. The two men stood, and they both kissed him on the cheeks three times in the Arab way. Both men were also dressed in the Western style, the General was taller at over six foot at least six inches taller than the man standing beside him who stood at five foot seven. According to the files in Mossad HQ in Tel Aviv he was Ibrahim Shallah, he was medium build but muscular, clean shaven with a slight scar under his lower lip which had been the closest he had come to an IDF bullet in the war against the Israeli Defence Forces in Gaza; he was the current leader of the PIJ. All three sat and ordered more of the strong coffee the café was famous for, with a side order of fresh water and some oranges for the sweetness. The reason they had met in a café and not in an office somewhere was at the request of the Arab. He did not trust meeting in government office buildings. Enemy intelligence agencies would always start with the offices of the States they were targeting, both for surveillance and the identification and recruitment of agents. For anyone watching, they would appear to be three businessmen discussing making money over a cup of coffee, rather than planning terrorist operations around the world. The General, even though he was dressed in civilian clothes, always had difficulty passing himself off as someone ordinary as he sat and stood in the fashion of a trained military man, ramrod straight. He also looked fierce with a heavy dark moustache and jet-black hair and with eyes to match he looked dangerous, not the kind of man you would pick a fight with. He was also on the files in King Saul Boulevard in Tel Aviv where Mossad records stated he was currently the Commander of the Clandestine Department of the Islamic Quads Force. He kept out of the media that so many of the Guards Generals were happy to be seen in and considered his job to be a secret one and always tried to live his life that way. With the coffee and oranges on the table they started to talk in general terms at first, both men inquiring how things went in Spain and how was the Arab’s travels. The conversation business like, and matter of fact.

  ‘You had a successful trip, making great press for our cause around the world,’ said the PIJ leader.

  ‘Yes, successful. The martyr will be in the arms of Allah now and the Western devils wondering what has happened,’ replied Abdullah.

  ‘Did you have any problems with your passports?’ asked the General.

  Iran had supplied the documents, training, and money for the Barcelona operation. The Western powers knew that the Iranian government supported many terrorist organisations with money, weapons, and training. Iran had become one of their main targets for surveillance and intelligence operations for that very reason.

  ‘No problem at all. Having a Spanish passport, they just flagged me through. I felt comfortable just moving about their security which was very lax, even in a large city like Barcelona. They are not prepared for us.’

  ‘I’m not so sure that will not be the situation in the future.’ said the General, ‘they’ll be more prepared .’

  ‘Abdullah, now that you are back, the General would like your help in something he has already set in motion.’

  ‘How can I help, General?’

  ‘My country, as you know, fully supports your actions in Gaza against Israel and throughout the world. We also support the Jihad as Israel is our enemy as it is yours. We can continue to carry out these smaller operations resulting in many deaths of the infidel. But, we feel, sometimes we must really hit them hard and make them listen. Since 9/11 the Western powers have become used to and accepting these small operations despite there being two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. All we have really succeeded in doing is to bring down their wrath on those countries and increase the money they now pour into their security agencies which now direct their considerable attention and power towards ourselves. We need them to utterly understand that we will not be defeated, and we will bring the fight to their doorstep, not just the small villages of Iraq and Afghanistan, although we will still fight them there as well. We believe that 9/11 was such a great success that we must now follow the example of that success and move to a higher level of bringing the Jihad to their doorstep.’

  The world knew the story of 9/11 when al-Qaeda terrorists had flown passenger jets into the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon Building killing over three thousand people.

  ‘Your operation in Barcelona was just such a step but now we should move it up, move it forward.’

  Abdullah began to feel a little of the intensity the General was trying to portray.

  ‘Move it up?’

  Now it was the turn of the PIJ leader to speak.

  ‘My brother you must understand, Allah has a plan for you. There are other soldiers already on the move, your task will be to help them bring that plan to the Devil’s door in London.

  We cannot tell you everything now, but in the next few days I want you to visit our training camp where we train our European converts to the cause and chose for yourself soldiers of the Jihad who will aid you in this mission. When you’ve done that we will meet again. The Commander of the Camp has been told you will be coming and to give you everything you need.’

  Abdullah knew the training camp the leader referred to. It was the same training camp where he had spotted a very committed woman from England named Margaret Brown. The Arab finished his coffee.

  ‘Goodbye gentlemen until we meet again.’

  ‘Inshallah,’ said the General using the Arab word for ‘if Allah wills it’.

  Chapter 4

  Jim Broad had filled his coffee cup and remained sitting at the conference table. Broad always respected the office of ‘C’ the head of MI6, so when Sir Ian Fraser sat opposite him, he would refer to him in one of three ways, Sir Ian, Sir, or Boss.

  ‘Jim, we have a little problem which I think your SG9 team might be able to help us with.’

  Broad sipped his coffee and waited for the chief to explain more. He knew if his Black Ops SG9 team were to be used it wouldn’t be a little problem.

  ‘I received a secure phone call this morning from Tel Aviv, to be precise Kurt Simon himself.’

  Broad knew who Kurt Shimon was and of his legendary Kidon teams and their operations around the world.

  ‘As a heads-up he tells me they have an ongoing operation against an Iranian and Hezbollah outfit which may involve some sort of explosive device moving from Tehran towards Europe possibly even London. Now their people are following a Quds Colonel with his Hezbollah bodyguards to Malta. The problem is they do not think this Malta team have the full components yet, and the whole device won’t be brought together until it reaches its final destination, which as I say could be London. They don’t want to jump on these people in Malta too soon, when they might not have anything on them letting anyone else get away.’

  Broad was not happy where this was going.

  ‘So, tell me, why are they telling us this exactly?’

  Sir Ian smiled. He could always rely on Jim Broad to hold him to account, the one thing Broad was not was anybody’s yes man and Fraser respected that.

  ‘I think three reasons Jim. The first is they have seen how we dealt with the Islamic group in Manchester, the Israelis respect that sort of action. The second is they’re worried that this group might slip through their fingers and end up in London blowing up half the city when they had them under control for a short period, and third, I think they know we already have an experienced asset in Malta.’

  Broad could understand the logic of the first two.

  ‘David Reece, he lives in Malta?’

  ‘Exactly Jim, he lives there, he knows the ground so to speak, and he is our asset, fully equipped to get a hand
le on things and report back what’s happening. Not only that, but he can also take action if necessary.’

  ‘What information have Mossad provided; do we have the full picture?’

  ‘Mossad believe the Iranian Colonel arriving in Malta either has access to or is in the process of moving a small amount of plutonium which has been manufactured in Iran. He has a small crew of Hezbollah minders with him, and they’re arriving on an Iranian merchant container ship which will dock in Valletta tomorrow night. Ships out of Iran are all well monitored since the Americans pushed up their sanctions because of the Iranian nuclear activity. Mossad were able to link into this coverage once they had some intelligence about the movements of this Colonel. They believe he is just moving the plutonium for a handover to another team who will continue with the operation to its conclusion. The Americans will use their satellite coverage wherever they can help. All we can do for now until we know much more, is get involved, so that we have the right information moving forward. Then we can better decide what we do next. That’s why we need to get Reece close to the Mossad team, so that we have timely information, and we can decide what’s in our best interests, not just those of the Israelis and Americans.’

  ‘Why don’t Mossad just bump off this Colonel, they did so in Malta once before?’

  ‘They don’t have enough information as to the full plans of the Iranian government and this Colonel. He is also being protected by at least four Hezbollah terrorists, making a shoot-out in downtown Malta out of the question. We need more information, Jim. The Prime Minister out of respect for our links with Malta, will, if necessary, let the Maltese government know if we need to move forward to a kill scenario. For the moment, our job is to gather information and identify more of this team and then as a last resort and only if necessary, move on them.’

  ‘So, what do I tell Reece?’

  ‘Just what we’ve been talking about, that there is an ongoing Mossad operation in Malta, and he might be of help to them. I know you’re worried about us exposing one of our secret assets, but if a device is heading for London, we need our people in there, making decisions on our behalf. In addition, I’m sending Matthew Simons, he is on his way to Heathrow now to catch the next available plane to Malta, with his Middle East knowledge and language expertise he’ll back-up Mister Reece in whatever way he can.’

  ‘Is he ground operationally trained?’

  ‘He’s done all the firearms, surveillance, and anti-ambush training as far as a desk officer can be trained, no on the ground experience, but his brain and what he has in it will compensate for any deficiencies.’

  ‘I hope so. Hezbollah are a dangerous outfit to come up against in the best of times. So, what you’re saying boss is that this is now an official SG9 operation, and I have control?’

  ‘I am indeed Jim, it’s over to you and your boy. Simons has been told to contact Reece and brief him on what we know. Contact Reece and let him know he is on his way and give him the details of the Mossad people so he can link up with them that’s where we will start.’

  Broad drank the rest of his coffee and stood to leave.

  ‘I’ll get back to my office and get things rolling and keep you updated.’

  ‘Thank you, Jim.’

  The rain outside had stopped, and a weak sun had started to break through the clouds as Broad got into the back of his car.

  ‘Where to, sir?’ asked his driver.

  At first Jim Broad was deep in thought and had not heard the question, then replied when the driver asked the same question again.

  ‘The office please, Brian.’

  The office of SG9 the most secret unit of MI6 also known as the Department was a non-descript building inside the perimeter of London City airport. As the car moved out of the car park Brian could see in his rear-view mirror that his boss was lost in deep thought and there would be little or no conversation during this journey.

  Chapter 5

  David Reece turned in the bed and looked at the face of Mary McAuley as she lay with eyes closed breathing slowly and quietly. The morning sun was shining through the linen curtains bringing a new day into the room and their lives. Mary slowly opened her dark brown eyes and she smiled at the face of the man lying beside her.

  ‘Good morning sleepyhead,’ said Reece.

  ‘Good morning, have you been watching me long?’

  ‘Long enough to realise how really beautiful you are when you’re sleeping.’

  Mary sat up, the thin sheet falling away to reveal her naked body. Reece turned on his back placing his arms behind his head. Reece was also naked, and Mary thought how strong he was sleeping or awake, but she didn’t tell him that. She could see the five-inch ragged white scar on his right shoulder where the splinters from a bullet had entered his body. He had told her some of the story, how he had been involved in a shoot-out with an IRA gunman. He never complained about it, even though she knew he was in pain in those times when the metal moved in his shoulder, then he would let out a small groan or stretch his arm for some relief. If it were bad, he would take some pain relief tablets and the pain would soon settle down. She rolled over and sat astride him, his manhood now between her legs. Looking down at him she could see his clear blue eyes which always seemed to get darker when they made love. His hands held her hips and she could feel the firmness as he entered her, as their bodies now moved in sequence both looking into each other’s eyes, no words being said.

  The buzzing of his smartphone interrupted the moment. They both tried to ignore it, but it continued breaking into their thoughts. Mary stopped first and turning off him lay flat on her back.

  ‘You’re going to have to answer that.’

  Reece was already reaching for the phone beside the bed, his mood in the moment broken. Whoever was calling at this time of the day better have a very good reason. When he answered the voice of his boss made him sit up and pull the sheet around him.

  ‘David, I’m glad I caught you. I hope I didn’t disturb you at anything?’ said Broad.

  Not for the first time Reece felt his boss had cameras watching his every move.

  ‘No, just about to have breakfast. What’s up?’

  ‘Good, are you still in your home location?’

  Reece noticed his boss was being secure with his words, not using the word ‘Malta’ meant he was being extra careful, even though the phone Reece was using had a secure encryption. Broad was obviously worried in case someone was listening to their conversation.

  ‘Yes, I’m still at home.’

  ‘We have a situation which might need your skills, at the very least an on-the-spot assessment, that’s why I’m calling you. Our Israeli friends are in your city and running a little show that could have end repercussions for us at home. I want you to link up with them today.’

  Again, Reece noted how his boss had told him that Mossad were working an operation in Valletta without specifically saying so. He knew Broad was old-fashioned when it came to talking over the phone even encrypted ones.

  ‘I’m sending you Matthew Simons this afternoon and he’ll be able to help you with the connection to our friends and bring you up to date. I’ll send you a name and where they’re staying. This person will be expecting you this evening and will be able to tell you what they know. You have my number call me if you need anything.’

  The call ended without goodbyes.

  Mary had sat up. Pulling the sheets around her, watching Reece throughout the call and noticed how his expression had changed from relaxed to one of deep thought as he put the phone back down on the bedside table.

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s come to visit.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have to pick one of our people up from the airport this evening. That was the boss, he’s sending me the details.’

  Right on cue his phone buzzed on the table. Reece read the message.

  ‘It looks like our little holiday is over for now and we might have a guest staying o
ver tonight. Let us go for a walk and some breakfast with a strong coffee and I’ll explain what I know.’

  Even though this woman had at one time been an agent in the IRA working for Reece and now they were lovers, there was only so much he could tell her. Need-to-know was always the way of secret organisations and now, she didn’t need to know. He knew she would understand even though she’d asked him to leave that world behind. He always remembered one of his instructors when he was on a course with MI5 telling the class of agent handlers, ‘The thing about keeping secrets, it’s a lot easier if you don’t know them in the first place. It’s a need-to-know business.’

  After they’d worked together in Manchester saving the life of the British Prime Minister in the process, she still felt she was an outsider in that part of his world, and she didn’t like it, she felt there was that one part of him he would always have to keep hidden from her.

  ‘OK, give me fifteen minutes to pull something on and brighten up my face.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your face, or your body for that matter. Maybe we can pick up later where we were before that call rudely interrupted us.’ He smiled.

  They walked hand in hand along the promenade of the Qawra seafront to his favourite little café on the headland overlooking the Mediterranean Sea as it splashed over the rocks of St Paul’s Bay. The early December sun was up and although there was a small breeze it was warm enough for the T-shirts and shorts, they both wore.