Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1)

by Lewis, Rykar

  Qasim ducked behind a wooden crate by the snipers’ building and pulled out the C4’s ignition switch from a pocket in his pants. The cord leading to the explosives around his waist was wrapped around his stomach, and underneath his shirt. Now was the time to be offered up for the cause. He wished he had been able to carry out his mission, but that wish was impossible right now. He breathed in deeply, then his fingers tensed, and he couldn’t move them. His fingers just didn’t work. Qasim presumed that was the result of his fear. He cursed himself for being so afraid. Quickly, he lifted the switch to his chin and nudged it, just as one of the snipers was pulling the trigger on his rifle.

  The bullet never reached Qasim. The enormous explosion took out every agent, and tore wide holes into several of the nearby buildings, killing several bystanders as well. The site’s temperature instantly soared well above a hundred degrees as buildings began catching on fire.

  The Mossad would never really know where Fadi Qasim was heading, and what he’d planned to do. But he would be part of the Americans’ key to unlocking the horrific future.

  14

  Monday, March 17th – 1030 hours

  The Eisenhower Executive Office Building

  Flustered and tired, Greg Norse sat in his office in the EEOB. He’d been up all night, worrying about this day, and he was beginning to feel the effects. He had told Solomon that Parks would be the “end of the team while it was still beginning,” and now he felt his statement was confirmed. From the beginning Norse had hated the idea of bringing in a Marine to command the team. Eric Lee had agreed that Parks was a mistake. In Norse’s mind, Solomon would have been the best team leader, so why did the President choose an inexperienced “jarhead” of all people? But Norse could have argued until he was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. The President had made up his mind, and he wasn’t going to change it.

  Norse came from a long line of government employees. His father had been the chief of police in New York City, his mother had been an FBI agent, and likewise, both of his brothers were in the FBI counterterrorism branch. Norse was nothing special in his family. All of his brothers were doing a similar job, so there was no glory in being a Special Agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He was the youngest in the family, and when he joined the FBI, his parents came to expect it and didn’t view it as something heroic. Truth be known, his brothers had taken the idea to become federal agents from him when they were just small boys. But since he was the youngest it seemed that Greg Norse would live his life as an imitation of his older siblings.

  This had been his chance to get some family fame. He had been chosen to be a part of an elite counterterrorism team, and if Solomon became leader he had the possibility of being deputy commander. That would have made his whole family proud. But no, Parks had ruined his only chance at glory. Now he was just a member of that team; just a lowly member. No glorious position, no leading position, nothing. Of course, Norse didn’t think about how the President had classified him as one of the top three agents in the FBI counterterrorism division. He was too green with envy to think of that. Jealousy was overriding him. He felt as if he were less than dirt and Parks better than gold. Right then and there, Norse decided that he’d make this job as hard as it could be for Parks. If he couldn’t have the leadership, no one would.

  Someone knocked on his door.

  “Yeah, it’s open,” he threw out, not really feeling like talking to anyone.

  It was Solomon, the last person he wanted to see. “Can I come in?” the black man asked quickly.

  Norse nodded slightly and turned to look out the window.

  “Greg, is there something wrong with you? You look upset.” Solomon’s tone was more accusing than questioning.

  Norse turned back around and faced him. “Nothing is wrong, Solomon.” Then he didn’t know what to say so he just asked, “Can I help you?”

  Solomon looked disgusted. He knew what Norse was thinking and he didn’t like it. He had worked with the man for years, and he knew that he could throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way. He was acting like a two-year-old right now, and that infuriated Solomon.

  “Parks is a good man, isn’t he?” Solomon pried skillfully.

  Norse was not impressed. “He’s okay I guess.”

  Solomon wasn’t done yet. “I just came by to tell you, or shall I say, remind you, that he is our team leader, and we should respect him. I know how you get, Greg, and I don’t want you making any trouble for him. He’s a good guy and he’ll be a good leader.”

  Shocked, Norse hung his mouth open. He couldn’t believe Solomon had just said that to him. It was a hard blow, and the hardest part was that it was true. “Just how do I get?” he demanded. “I always have a reason for my feelings.”

  “I’ll let you answer your own question, Greg. I just wanted to give you a friendly reminder, as your friend and your boss.”

  Norse cleared his throat. “Then answer me this, Solomon. Why did the President pick him instead of you? Why did he pick a lesser person?”

  “Lesser?” Solomon asked. “I completely disagree. It’s just your ignorance and jealousy that is blinding you from seeing that he is the best man to lead this team.”

  “Why? What do you know about Parks?”

  “Enough to know that he’s good. Really good. Good enough that the President thinks he can handle the job of leading better than you, or me, or anyone in the CIA or FBI.”

  Norse didn’t want to hear any of it. He thought Parks was an incompetent individual, and a big mistake on the President’s part. He wasn’t going to listen to anyone who opposed his beliefs. “I don’t want to talk about it, Solomon. Let’s just stick to business,” Norse declared.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do, Greg, but if you don’t do your part, there won’t be any business to stick to. This is a team, not a one-man show. Everyone needs to do his part, and if anyone slacks off, for any reason, then we all fail. I know you know that already, but I think you need to refresh your memory.”

  Norse flopped his head in disgust and exhaled noisily. “Look, I know my business. I don’t know if Parks knows his, and I am just trying to make sure this team is a success. Okay?”

  “No, that’s not okay because you’re not being very honest, Greg,” Solomon accused. “You think that you and I should have been the deputy leader and leader, don’t you?”

  Norse didn’t answer at first; he just stared out the window. The words finally came to him and he blurted them out as fast as he could. “Yes, I think we’d have led the team much better than that military guy. To be honest with you, I think he’ll be a handicap to us. And I don’t think the President really knows what he’s got into either.”

  Solomon closed his eyes for a second, then opened them wide and glared right at Norse. “If it was a mistake, then it’s the President’s mistake, and he’ll live with it. Will you just get over it for Pete’s sake?”

  Norse didn’t say a word to Solomon; he just stared at him. Both men were good friends, but Solomon had always been boss over Norse, even from the beginning. Nothing would be different, now or ever.

  * * *

  Hazeroth stepped into the prime minister’s office. Aziza had been waiting for him for the better part of the hour. The prime minister was waiting for a report on the operation, and Hazeroth knew he wouldn’t be happy when he received it.

  “Come in, Judah,” the prime minister said, a smile spreading across his face. “I could use some good news right now.”

  Hazeroth swallowed. He knew there was no way to smooth things over, so he just plunged headlong into his difficult report. “Mr. Prime Minister, I regret to inform you–”

  “You regret?” Aziza asked in a harsh tone. “Please, tell me they didn’t lose him.”

  “No, they haven’t lost him; the situation is not that bad. However, I regret to inform you that in the process of being taken out, Qasim exploded several bricks of C4, which were on his person. The explosion ki
lled him, all of our Quick Reaction Team, and several bystanders.”

  “How do you know this?” Aziza questioned, sitting bolt-upright in his chair.

  “The Lebanon sleeper agent told me. I requested that he follow Qasim a safe distance away, just for extra insurance. Fortunately, he was unscathed by the explosion.”

  Aziza did not like what he was hearing. “So now we’ve got twenty men from our best Mossad QRT lying in pieces on the border?”

  Hazeroth nervously told him he was right. “But again, the situation could have been worse. At least we took him out.”

  “He took himself out. You didn’t take him out. I told you I wanted this to be a quick operation with no deaths on our side.” The prime minister’s face was turning red. “I thought you said your teams were good. You said they were the best we have. If that’s what we’ve got protecting us, you’d better start training teams that are more capable of doing their job.”

  “Yes, Mr. Prime Minister. But I must draw your attention to the fact that the entire operation was hastily planned. My team hardly had a chance to prepare.”

  “That is what the Mossad’s claim-to-fame is supposed to be. It prides itself on sending out strike teams on short notice and getting positive results.” Aziza grabbed for his forehead. “Now every Lebanese citizen will hear about this. Suicide bombers will come in by the dozens. Our guard was let down, and now we must pay the consequences.”

  Hazeroth tried to calm down the fuming prime minister. “I should hardly think so, Mr. Prime Minister. I mean, Qasim didn’t carry out his attack; he was stopped before he could. Granted he took out our teams with him, but still, it could have been worse.”

  “Stop saying that,” the prime minister ordered. “I know it could have been worse, but it could have been better. It should have been better. Why do you think we’ve been terrorist free for a year? Because we showed Lebanon who was boss. They didn’t dare let the Hezbollah terrorists into our country for fear we’d nuke them. We stopped them in their tracks, but now they’re rising up once more and we’ve let our guard down. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  “I do, Mr. Prime Minister, but I must say, a suicide bomber from Lebanon does not mean they’ve declared an all-out war. Hezbollah terrorists come and go as they please. For all we know, this Qasim came in unnoticed by even the Lebanese.”

  “Well the Lebanese ordered Qasim to take out our foreign minister a year ago, why couldn’t they use him now? It’s a sure thing he’s working for Lebanon.”

  “We don’t know that Lebanon ordered Qasim to take out the minister. We think that, but as I said, Hezbollah terrorists come and go as they please.”

  But the prime minister was convinced Lebanon was to blame. “Lebanon is behind this, and we have to respond quickly. This could be the same trick they pulled on us last year: starting with a terrorist attack and then declaring war on us. Judah, I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. We’ll lock down the borders and if need be, mobilize our military units in the Golan Heights. The Lebanese may be trying to take that from us.”

  “Mr. Prime Minister, with all due respect, I believe you are overreacting. Mobilizing forces in the Golan could be the thing that ignites another Israeli-Lebanon war. I would lock down the borders if I were you, but I would wait on moving any military units.”

  “I said if need be we’d mobilize, I didn’t say we would right this instant. Now see to your job, Hazeroth,” Aziza heatedly commanded.

  The tension with Lebanon was beginning to rise, Aziza could feel it. And the pressure of being responsible made him uncomfortable. Was Lebanon preparing to strike southward? Were Lebanon and Iran both going to invade Israel? Questions without answers flooded Aziza’s mind. But one thing was for sure, he had to do this major border lockdown before more terrorists entered Israel.

  15

  Monday, March 17th – 1100 hours

  The Oval Office

  National Security Advisor Smith opened the door to the Oval Office. The President was leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, buried in a political thriller novel. Winnfield was a voracious reader. All his life he had loved to read. He’d even written a few books, but never managed to get them published.

  “Mr. President, sir, can I speak with you for a moment?” Smith asked.

  The President’s foot flew down to the floor. He closed his book a little too fast, resulting in a sound that rang like a gunshot.

  “Tom,” a startled President acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”

  “Sir, it’s concerning Israel, and you need to hear this. May I sit down?” Smith didn’t wait for permission to plop down in the hard leather chair opposite the President. “Sir, I just got off the phone with Prime Minister Aziza. There seems to be a crisis unfolding with Lebanon, yet again. To get to the point, a sleeper agent in Lebanon working for the Israeli Mossad identified a well-known terrorist as he was crossing the border into Israel. Well, Head of the Mossad Hazeroth instantly brought the news to the prime minister. They confirmed the terrorist to be Fadi Qasim.”

  “Wait a minute,” Winnfield butted in. “Is he the one that assassinated their foreign minister last year?”

  “He is, or was, I should say. Anyway, the Israelis figured him to be armed and dangerous, so they sent out a QRT to take him out. One problem though,” Smith popped a breath mint into his mouth, “they didn’t take him out.”

  “What? Are you kidding? What happened?”

  Smith halted the President’s questions with his hand. “The guy dodged the Israeli team’s rockets and snipers and was running for the cover of a nearby apartment complex. I guess he figured he was doomed. Whatever the reason, he flipped the switch, and the C4 that was on him took out everyone. Twenty Israeli Mossad agents and several innocent bystanders were killed, and a few buildings were affected. Need I say Qasim died too?”

  “That’s a no brainer,” the President replied. “Do you have an exact figure of casualties?”

  “All the agents – that’s twenty – and three civilians were killed. Prime Minister Aziza saw the ordeal as a threat from Lebanon and has locked down the borders tighter than a drum.”

  “If all the agents died, where’d all the information on this incident come from?”

  “The sleeper that found Qasim followed him and saw the whole thing. He was at a safe distance so he wasn’t affected by the blast. Aziza, I’m told, is ready to mobilize military units in the Golan Heights, just in case. I guess he figures Lebanon will hit there if anywhere. You remember the Lebanese government wanted the Israelis to give the Golan to them in their little UNON Plan, right?”

  “Right. Along with the Israelis destroying all their nukes and taking out half of their ICBM supply. Lebanon must have been crazy to think Aziza would go for it.”

  “Yes sir, I agree. But Lebanon’s been upset about the denial, and Israel knows it,” Smith declared, downing another breath mint. “Anyway, Aziza’s taking no chances whatsoever. He thinks Lebanon’s going to war, and he’s preparing for it. They think this is a repeat of last year’s war with Lebanon. Aziza’s afraid they’re going to try to move into the Golan, and he’s deadly serious about making sure they don’t.”

  “He’s not planning to attack the Lebanese outright is he?” the President asked with concern.

  “I’m not sure, sir. But I must say, I think Aziza is getting an itchy trigger finger for the Lebanese. Can you blame him?”

  Winnfield shook his head. “I can’t. But I do think I should talk to him soon and maybe feel out what he’s thinking.” He paused and then switched the subject. “Tom, can you get me a file on this Qasim guy?”

  “Uh...I’d have to ask Mike at CIA. I’m sure he’s got something on him. What do you have in mind, sir?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ve got a hunch. Tell Mike to get the file and report to me immediately. For all we know, that could be a precursor to attacks on us.”

  * * *

  “You wish to see me, Mr. President?” Cum
mins asked, stepping into the Oval Office and slowly closing the door behind him.

  “Yeah Mike, I did,” the President answered. “Did you get the information?”

  “I did sir, but there wasn’t much on him.” The Director of the CIA slid a file of papers over to the President. “I can quickly brief you if you’d like?” Cummins offered.

  The President consented and the D/CIA started his briefing.

  “Fadi Qasim was an Iranian terrorist, unknown to the world until just last year when he assassinated the Israeli foreign minister. He virtually vanished into thin air afterward, and no one could track him down, not the Mossad, not us at CIA, no one. Anyway, he was quiet and lying low until just now.” The D/CIA cleared his throat. “Qasim was considered a deadly man and he boasted the rank of fifth on the Mossad’s most wanted list. A bounty of fifteen million dollars was on his head for six months after the assassination, if that gives you an idea of the desperation they had in catching him.”

  Cummins rubbed his left hand as he continued his in-depth brief. “Qasim worked for Hezbollah for ten years before his first attack, which was on the foreign minister. For those years he was sitting in Lebanon, training I guess, just waiting for the green light to go ahead with an attack. His superiors must have thought him pretty good if they let him handle an important assassination like that. Israel is convinced that the Lebanese government sent him in to kill the minister last year, and apparently they’re convinced they sent him in this time too,” Cummins continued. “So, all we know is that Qasim worked for Hezbollah and killed the Israeli foreign minister. As I said, we don’t have much on him, but at your request I could have my guys look deeper into him.”

  “I figured he was an Iranian working for Hezbollah,” the President said. “Do you think that Lebanon put him up to whatever he was going to do, or is Iran behind this?”

  “As you well know, sir, Hezbollah pretty much does what it wants without Lebanon interfering. I think Iran would be a better guess. They are the founders of Hezbollah, and I would venture to guess they would be the ones behind masterminding an operation like that.”