by Lewis, Rykar
Hazeroth paced his office. Why had this happened? How could he have been so naïve? Was he getting old? Or maybe too slow for this job? Whatever the reason, he couldn’t afford to make yet another mistake; his job was already on the line. He had begged every one of his sleeper agents inside Lebanon for intelligence. He had told them the stakes couldn’t be higher. Now he could only wait and see. Wait for the next terrorist to be picked up by his agents, and wait for the prime minister to make a decision. This game of “cat and mouse” was tiresome.
Hazeroth pounded his fist on the desk, then rubbed it soothingly. He hadn’t meant to pound so hard, he just had to let out his frustration and soothe his nerves. He fell into a chair and began thinking. Iraq had been silenced by America during the War on Terror. Iran was supposed to be neutralized and frightened of the Americans. Syria was silent. Palestine couldn’t be quieter. And until today, Lebanon had been outraged, but nevertheless, quiet and peaceful. What had triggered the sudden suicide bombing attempt? It was psychotic. How could the Israelis be so peaceful and safe one minute, and then the next be preparing for thousands of deaths at the hands of the Lebanese? The whole situation made no sense. Sure, the Lebanese were upset, but to be stupid enough to send in a suicide bomber from their own border was crazy. Why would they do that? It was outrageously uncommon for the now-petrified prime minister of Lebanon. Unless some other country was behind it. But who?
Hazeroth racked his brain relentlessly. This was his job – to strategize and think things out until he came up with an answer. But really, who could be behind this mess other than Lebanon? Could Iraq? Afghanistan? They had more reason to suspect the Chinese had done this than think either of those countries were responsible. Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden were dead, so what madman in Iraq would order this? The Taliban and other terror groups in Afghanistan were still in hiding, not daring to peek their sorry heads out for fear they would be blown off. Russia most likely was not involved. So that meant there were only two logical answers, and one seemed more likely than the other – Iran or Lebanon. Iran was less likely, but even still, Lebanon did not seem likely to send in a terrorist when the Lebanese were scared of Israel. Maybe everyone was overreacting. Perhaps this Qasim had done this mission on his own orders.
Hazeroth had more questions than answers, and he didn’t like that. He had to obtain some intel, something to grasp onto and believe was viable.
He exited his office and went to the prime minister’s. Aziza was still talking to the American President so Hazeroth waited. But the more he waited the more anxious he became. For all he knew, the State of Israel’s very being was hanging in the balance.
17
Monday, March 17th – 2000 hours
Jerusalem, Israel
“Proceed Mr. President,” the Israeli prime minister pressed urgently.
“I would like to shift your attention to Iran, Mr. Prime Minister,” the President said calmly. “If you stop and think, you’ll see Iran is looking just as guilty, if not more, than Lebanon.”
“I’m listening.”
“To cut to the chase, let’s first trace Hezbollah. The real deal is that they are Iranian terrorists working for Iran through Lebanon. Hezbollah terrorists have seats in the Lebanese government, and Iran loves that. You see, Iran can maneuver Lebanon any way it wants by just working through those officials. Iran can gather any information it wants on Lebanon. Those Iranian officials are masters at the inside workings of the Lebanese government.”
“I haven’t much time, Mr. President,” the prime minister warned.
“Yes, yes, yes, but please listen for a moment. Let’s just set up a scenario and say Iran sent that terrorist into Israel,” the President explained.
“Impossible.”
“Please allow me to finish,” Winnfield almost begged. “Iran can authorize or order their Hezbollah thugs to carry out suicide missions whenever they want. Lebanon really has no power over them. So let’s say Iran sends Qasim into Israel from Lebanon. It appears as if Lebanon has sent a terrorist into Israel. It looks like Lebanon is trying to retaliate against Israel because their UNON Plan was denied. It works perfectly for Iran because now they look like innocent bystanders. But really, they are the ones sending the Hezbollah terrorists into Israel, via the Lebanon border. So Iran sits back and destroys Israel, while Lebanon takes the blows. Iran is then untouched, unharmed, and now Israel destroys Lebanon. Israeli military units are in Lebanon, and then, only then, will Iran strike. Your military will be battle weary and spread out from fighting Lebanon. You will have no power to challenge the seemingly superpower of Iran. You will then move out of Lebanon and turn to fight the Iranians. But then the catch comes. The snare that Iran set closes. Lebanon will be furious and will not leave you alone. She will strike out and attack while Iran also fights you.” The President went on. “You can defeat Iran if it stands alone, but can you fight and defeat Iran while Lebanon is nipping at your heels?”
The prime minister could no longer hold back. “You are saying Lebanon and Iran have formed a coalition to destroy us?”
“No, not at all. Lebanon is clueless, but Iran is working behind the veil, using Lebanon to take your bullets while Iran prepares to hit you. It’s not a coalition, but a master chess game. And again, when you leave Lebanon and face Iran, do you think the Lebanese will leave you alone? Of course not. They’ll jump at the chance to destroy you while you are fighting Iran. Your country will be overrun, destroyed.” The President waited a second to let the reality of his point sink in. “Striking Lebanon is not the solution, Mr. Prime Minister; it is merely what Iran wants. If you do so, who knows how many lives you’ll lose. It’s your move; play wisely.”
“Mr. President, that is impossible,” Aziza declared hotly.
“Give me a reason, Mr. Prime Minister.”
“Iraq was taken out during your War on Terror, Iran was neutralized, Hamas is petrified of coming out of hiding lest they get their heads cut off by you Americans. Syria is in a peaceful condition with us. Only one suspect remains in my mind: Lebanon. It makes sense that they’d attack us. They are humiliated by our refusal of their stupid UNON Plan. The prime minister of Lebanon, Jamil Zacka, is desperate to get revenge. No, there is no doubt in my mind who the culprit is.”
“Iran is, or shall I say was, neutralized. However, I think the Iranian government is pretending to be more neutralized than it really is. They want to catch you sleeping. They want to shift your focus to Lebanon while they get ready to obliterate your country. Can’t you see that?” the President asked with concern.
“So you want me to take out Iran, the pretend enemy, and let Lebanon destroy us?”
“Lebanon isn’t the enemy yet, but they will be if you attack them,” Winnfield retorted with growing irritation.
“I will look into this, Mr. President, but I still say that the Lebanese are to blame,” Aziza stated.
“Good, look into the matter and call me with whatever you find. We’re here to help.”
“If we decide to move against Iran,” Aziza corrected.
The President was not very comfortable with Aziza’s tone. “Please, don’t get me wrong. We will back you up no matter what. No matter if it is Iran or Lebanon that is in your sights. We just want you to be sure who’s to blame.”
“Very well. I will keep you up-to-date.”
“Great. Until next time, goodbye, Mr. Prime Minister.”
* * *
Parks walked back into his office, logged on to his new email account, and punched in the short, temporary password. Inbox thirty? Already? he thought to himself. Every single one of them was from the CIA operations center at Langley. Parks quickly opened the top message and began reading.
It was rather hard to read so he had to reread it a couple of times before he fully understood what it meant. It was an unimportant “chatter” email so he clicked off it and went on down the line.
By the time Parks opened the last of his emails from Langley he was only sca
n reading. There was so much to read, and to be truthful, it was rather boring information. But it was his job to read the intelligence reports, boring or not.
When he finally finished, he clicked the link titled “change password.” He searched for an unbreakable one and at last he came up with a password that no one could break in a thousand years. After resetting it, he logged off his account, just as his desk phone began ringing.
“Major Parks,” he answered.
“This is the White House operator. Please hold for the National Security Advisor.”
Parks tensed. Could something be wrong, or was the NSA just checking up? That couldn’t be though; Parks had just seen him. He didn’t have to wonder much longer. Soon Smith’s loud voice boomed in Parks’ ear.
“Keith, are you there?”
“I am sir, what can I do for you?”
* * *
President Winnfield was upset. The prime minister of Israel had basically thrown Winnfield’s advice back in his face. Lebanon was in Aziza’s sights, and he was too angry and desperate to think that anyone else could be responsible. He wanted revenge. Winnfield did too, but he wanted to get revenge on the right people. Haste makes waste, and if the prime minister made a hasty decision, it could mean disastrous consequences. The U.S. would still stand behind Israel, no matter what decision they made. But the President hoped that Israel would wait for more solid information before taking action.
Winnfield’s mind wandered back to the events of two months ago. The terrorists that had come into the U.S. had all been Iranians – as far as he knew anyway. The cargo hijackers had come from Egypt, and the CIA had tracked them there just a week before the terrorists attacked the USS George Washington. The agents had identified them as Iranian terrorists, and went to take them out but lost them before they could. The Wal-Mart bomber had been tough to track, but after talking to survivors who saw the bomber in action the FBI had nailed the culprit. Hahmed Jassin was a “minor” terrorist that had never been seen as a threat. The CIA presumed he was hiding in Iran, his homeland, before his attack. The Mossad suspected him for Hamas connections. Even still, the CIA still had no idea how he entered the U.S.
Likewise, Alka vun Buvka was an Iranian. He had a terrorist file in the CIA and FBI for years. Upon his attack in the U.S. and his escape, he was considered one of the most dangerous men on the face of the planet. Winnfield knew that all those attacks interlinked. They were all headed up by Hamas, Iran’s personal terror group. But the Israelis didn’t think of that. They didn’t think of how dangerous Iran still was, and how capable of wickedness the Iranians were. Lebanon was the great evil in the Israelis’ eyes, and they were being blinded by that. In Winnfield’s eyes – and almost every advisor in the administration – Iran was guilty for the terrorism on both countries. Hamas was guilty for the U.S. attacks, and Iranian-based Hezbollah for the Israeli would-have-been attack.
Still, one item remained a question for Winnfield: the Air Force One hijacking. It made no sense. None of the Secret Service agents could have been dealing with terrorists, because the U.S. intelligence agencies would have picked up on it. But how had it worked out so perfectly? The agents had to have had some way of connecting with terrorist cells. Or were they working alone?
Iran could not be traced on that one – nothing could be. Background checks had been done three to four times on the terrorist sleeper agents, and not a thing had come up that even remotely looked fishy. Cummins and Watkins thought it was rigged all from the inside. “Someone inside was working secretively with Iran to plan a night that would shake America,” Cummins had told him a week after the attacks. Winnfield partly believed it, but when background checks on every agent in the Secret Service, CIA, FBI and Homeland Security came up completely clean, he dismissed the idea. There was no way anyone other than the terrorist agents and pilots themselves set this up. They must have made the plan and then waited for an incident similar to that on January 16th. Even that notion seemed sketchy given how hard it would have been to keep even private talks with each other under the table. But it was more believable than anything else.
Winnfield had a concussion when Air Force One’s front blew up, so he couldn’t remember a thing about the scenario. He tried hard to, but nothing would come. He didn’t even know where the terrorists had been taking him. Anders had brought up the fact that the plane had been heading south, but the FBI Director had stated that the terrorists could have taken Winnfield anywhere from Mexico to Antarctica, so that didn’t help much.
The President couldn’t help but feel that the beings responsible for that night’s attacks were now going against Israel. Iran – if they were responsible – would overrun the Israelis and then come back and try a repeat of the stunt they’d pulled two months ago. Winnfield was fearfully confident of that. Iran was the culprit. The Iranians were the masterminds behind all this, and they needed to be stopped before their plan became a reality.
What would come next if someone didn’t take out Iran? What kind of destruction would occur if the Iranians were not neutralized? The President wasn’t sure, but he didn’t care to find out. All he knew was that if Israel went after Lebanon on a trumped up assumption that they were to blame, not only would Lebanon be in ashes, but Israel too. And all at the hands of Iran. Someone had to do some fast figuring. Time was of the essence, and with every second that passed, Iran was securing the upper hand.
The frustrating thing was not having a confirmed target at which to retaliate. Yes, Winnfield strongly believed Iran was to blame, but he couldn’t declare war based on just an assumption, he had to have facts. Finding the facts was going to be a hard job, but if anyone could, it’d be Cummins. Even now, the D/CIA was working restlessly to try and pick up the slightest bit of information that would help prove who was to blame. Somehow the U.S. had to get Israel on the defensive side of things until the two countries could prove who was responsible. That would be tough, but it would have to be done, or the U.S. and one of her best allies, Israel, could be tangled in a mess from which they would not soon recover.
* * *
Parks hung up the phone. The call from the National Security Advisor had been an interesting one. He hadn’t given Parks an assignment, but he had explained the recent Israeli trouble. Parks had been in the dark on this until Smith had explained, and now he was kicking himself for not paying more attention to the intel reports. But even now he didn’t know what to think of the whole matter. Israel wanted to move. Lebanon looked guilty. However, the American intelligence agencies believed Iran was responsible. What was true?
Smith had also said Parks needed to be ready in case the terrorist trouble came to the United State s. Parks had not known how to handle that. He and his team were unprepared, untrained, and uncomfortable with each other. He’d have to step things up, and quickly. Smith had piled a lot on him for the first day. Parks hadn’t expected so much to be required of him so soon and with so little resources to accomplish things. But he had to handle it.
As Parks thought over the next day’s activities, he made a mental note to bring some decor for his office as soon as he could. He needed to dig all his Marine decorations out of the storage unit and bring them over.
The clock on the computer read 1500. Three hours remained before Parks could leave work. He was counting down the hours because he wanted to end this day and come back tomorrow better prepared. He had decided to rent the house he’d looked at yesterday. He figured with how busy he was going to be at work he didn’t have time to go around looking for a better deal. He’d go over and sign the papers immediately after work.
Checking his email again, Parks found that one had come in. It was from Solomon.
KP,
Just wanted to ask if you had any hobbies you pursue, any sports, or the like. I’d like to go do something with you so we could get better acquainted. Let me know.
-Solomon
Parks looked at the initials “KP” and shook his head, amazed at how he was so used to
being called “sir” by his subordinates. He quickly replied to the email.
Solomon,
I bowl a lot. How about you? I think I could find time to bust some pins tonight. What do you say? You could meet me at the house I’m going to rent at about 2000. I’ll give you the directions if you decide you want to go.
-Keith
Solomon seemed to be very nice, and Parks thought he would be helpful when times became tough. He’d have to talk to Solomon about the training they’d be doing and maybe he would have some ideas. After all, he was the deputy commander and he should have an influence on what would take place on the team. Parks liked the gentle, tall man. He was friendly and seemed to be willing to die for Parks, already.
Quickly, Parks shoved that thought aside. He didn’t want to think about death. Not now, not ever. When it came, it came. His job required that he not fear death too much, and the only way for Parks not to fear it was not to think about it. It wasn’t the being dead part that made him uneasy; it was the dying part. This job would surely bring him in close scrapes with death, of that, Parks was sure. But maybe he could cheat the system a bit and live through those life threatening times. However, if it came to it, he loved his country enough that he would sacrifice his very being just to see her stay free and safe. That was his mission in life, to help protect and defend the United States of America. If he accomplished that mission, he could die happy. Parks was convinced he hadn’t done that yet, so he wasn’t ready to die. Still, he often wondered if any amount of success in life would make him die happy.
