The End of Terror

by Howitt, Bruce

Once they were all together, Eli downloaded the flash drive onto his encrypted laptop. Once he opened up the trail of emails, they could not believe how careless Yasser had been.

  “Look at all this stuff. He is obviously establishing a network of assets with the intention of doing some major damage here in Europe.”

  Ari leaned over and read the screen. “He’s coded all this, but the references to the princes and princesses can only mean the Royal Family in London. Here he is sending a message to one of his co-conspirators in Tehran that the biblical enemies of Muhammad will soon feel the wrath of Allah.”

  Noah injected his opinion. “This means an Iranian-funded attack somewhere on Israel or a major Jewish target in Europe. Perhaps the recently refurbished Great Synagogue in Berlin or the Jewish Museum in Berlin.”

  Eli sent an encrypted security email blast that would not even be detected by the NSA in Maryland or GHQ in Cheltenham, England. It contained all the information and was sent back to Netanya. Then they waited for 9 to respond.

  Within a half day, Ari received a text. “You have an important customer awaiting service before next Thursday.” It was signed M. Sales Department 9.

  They had all the information they needed. Ari implemented their plan to terminate Yasser.

  The following Wednesday, right on cue, the four Israelis followed Yasser to Café Babylon on Lindauergasse, another internet café he used. To their utter amazement, he still had had no contact with any other jihadis and appeared to have no protection. They had not only read his emails, received and sent, but 9 had deciphered some of the hidden codes they used. Most of the intended recipients and senders appeared to be Iranian Quds operatives and Europeans believed to be sleepers for the jihadis.

  When Yasser was set up in front of his rented computer station, Noah entered the café and purchased half an hour of internet time in the seat next to him. Ari and Adam were in a rented Audi A4 across the street from the café. Eli was sitting at a table outside the café, sipping a coffee.

  When Noah was almost through with his half hour, he stood and went to the men’s room. It was through a door almost immediately in front of Yasser’s desk, and with casual confidence he sauntered to the washroom.

  On returning, with Eli observing him, Noah held his right hand down by his thigh, carrying a .22 calibre Beretta pistol. As he walked past, he shot Yasser twice in the left ear, killing him on the spot.

  The dead terrorist unfortunately created a disturbance as he fell from his chair and toppled the computer he had been using. The small calibre rounds that were fired into his ear did little or no outward damage to Yasser’s head; there was only a small amount of blood to identify his injury.

  Within seconds, the café was in chaos. When Abu Yasser fell to the floor, it took a few seconds for the four other patrons and two staff members to process what had occurred. Then mayhem broke out, with people screaming and searching around as to what had happened. Noah quickly stepped out of the café onto Lindauergasse, unfortunately into the arms of a passing policeman who had heard the commotion.

  Eli jumped from his seat and attempted to push the policeman to the ground so Noah could run. Noah took off, sprinting onto Ottakringerstrasse, where he was able to jump on a passing tram. The policeman was not giving up so easily, and now was grappling with Eli.

  Both Ari and Adam left the car and ran to Eli’s aid, with Adam finally incapacitating the police officer with a sharply administered blow to his ear, stunning him and causing him to collapse to the sidewalk. He would awaken moments later with a massive but nonthreatening headache after the Israelis had fled the scene.

  People were starting to congregate around the entrance to the café and the scene outside. The team operators each went in separate directions. Eli quickly walked to Freedmangasse and eventually rode a tram for thirty minutes before retreating to the safe house per their emergency exit plan. Ari and Adam left the Audi where it was parked legally; it would gain little or no attention for at least three hours, until the rush hour commenced, when it would be removed by the traffic authorities. After riding on buses, trams, and the subway, they returned to the safe house. The Audi would be a mystery vehicle that no one would claim from the towing impound lot until long after the team had exited Austria.

  Soon the news outlets were chattering about the assassination of a Middle Eastern businessman in broad daylight in an internet café. As the day progressed and his real identity became public knowledge, the Hezbollah–Hamas–PLO propaganda machine went into high gear, proclaiming Yasser’s innocence as a devout Muslim and family man. All three groups vowed revenge on the Israeli oppressors who had probably killed their hero.

  Of course, within a few days, his demise was old news and faded into the back pages.

  CHAPTER 17

  Vienna, 2015

  Ari was reflecting on his team’s close call in Vienna during their last mission there, when he looked across the terrace and froze. A tall, rugged man had walked in and sat down at one of tables across from Ari and his family. There, sitting alone, was one of the most wanted and feared terrorists in the world, Ibrahim Al-Baghdadi.

  Ari had only once seen a blurry picture of Al-Baghdadi, about nine years earlier when the United States was seeking Israel’s cooperation in trying to capture him. Al-Baghdadi was responsible for hundreds of American and Canadian military deaths in both Iraq and Afghanistan since 2003. He designed nearly all the IED explosions that killed or maimed the Allied troops. He had trained in Iran and became one of the most feared bomb-makers and instructors in the world.

  Al-Baghdadi was rarely, if ever, seen in public. The United States and Israel both had him at the top of their most-wanted lists. Ari and the teams from 9 always kept an eye out for him but never caught even a whiff of his scent. Now here he was in broad daylight, sitting larger than life in a Viennese café.

  Why now, when I’m with my family?

  With his photographic memory kicking in, Ari went from relaxed vacationer to 9 working mode. While he was observing and processing every detail of his target’s appearance, body language, facial patterns, and anything else he could without being noticed for staring, Leah and Esther happily chatted about their plans for the day, especially the evening Strauss concert at the Salonorchester Alt Wien, perhaps the most famous concert hall in Europe.

  As the waiter brought their orders, two unsavoury-looking characters joined Al-Baghdadi at his table. Ari did not recognize them, but he concluded they were probably Chechens or Bosnians.

  Why are they in Vienna? Wherever Al-Baghdadi went, there was a heightened risk to nearby innocent citizens. He was believed by the Mossad to have been the mastermind behind the bus bombing of Israeli tourists in Bulgaria two years previously. While Leah knew that her husband worked on national security for a living, she never was aware of the extent of Ari’s activities, the direct role he played in planning and executing covert missions, and the dangers his job presented.

  Suddenly fearing for his wife and daughter, Ari asked them to hurry and finish their coffee and breakfast. At first Leah was about to protest; their food had just arrived! But once she saw the firm, cold expression in her husband’s blue eyes and the set position of his jaw, Leah knew enough not to question him.

  Ari got up and excused himself to go the men’s room, and on his return, while appearing to be texting on his cell phone, he captured a picture of all three men. Aware that he would need assistance, Ari sent a copy of the pictures he had taken to his trusted contact in the French DGSE (Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure), Laurent Tremblant. They had met when Ari was studying at McGill and Tremblant was there on a year’s English language course. After college, both had coincidently travelled similar paths into the world of counterterror and covert operations.

  Ari stood and kissed Leah and Esther goodbye, then loudly proclaimed in French that he would meet them for lunch back at the hotel. They both hurried away.

  As he sat down again, his phone signalled an incoming c
all. It was Tremblant.

  “Where are you exactly, and are they still in sight?”

  Ari replied in French. “I am seated on the terrace of the Café Schottenring looking at three good customers.” Ali-Baghdadi was still deep in conversation with his two companions.

  “Bon! Stay there. You will meet two old friends from school, Jacques and Pierre, in five minutes. They are two of my best operators there in Vienna; they’ve been sitting on a couple of money launderers we think are tied to Islamic Jihad.”

  Within minutes, Jacques and Pierre arrived and Ari and the two DGSE operatives made a big fuss of renewing acquaintances. The two Frenchmen sat down and ordered espresso, all the time observing the three men at Al-Baghdadi’s table by watching their reflection in the windows of the café.

  Ari had gone against his better instincts and left his weapon in the hotel room safe. He had promised Leah that he would focus on their family time together and leave work behind… now, for the first time ever, he found himself unprepared. His training had taught him to always be ready, especially for an unexpected situation; yet he was currently at a disadvantage. Jacques and Pierre, however, had silenced Beretta pistols and one had a garrote, which he passed to Ari.

  Always in French, Ari asked, “What the hell are these guys up to? They are sitting here as large as life and we have to know they are not on a vacation.”

  Pierre responded, “That fucker Baghdadi is a monster; he for sure cannot be up to any good.”

  “Oui, J’pense la même chose.” Yes, I think the same thing.

  Ari, Jacques, and Pierre concluded that Al-Baghdadi was in Vienna to carry out a bombing. They believed he had developed a plan and the other two thugs were strictly temporary muscle, there to provide security for him. If they encountered any opposition or trouble, those two assholes would be deemed expendable.

  There were three potential venues for a high-casualty attack. First was the world-famous Spanish Riding School of Austria. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were invited guests of the Austrian president and were due to attend a performance at the school in two days. This sent cold shivers down Ari’s spine; Esther was planning to take her parents on a tour the next day.

  A second possible target was a working session of OPEC, which was a target of terrorists led by Carlos the Jackal in 1975. The OPEC session was being held at their headquarters in Vienna a week later. A third possible bomb location was a glittering event at the Vienna State Opera that same evening. All three were soft targets for Al-Baghdadi.

  Ari was consumed with worry. To put himself in danger was one thing, but the idea of Leah and Esther anywhere near a possible Al-Baghdadi target was horrifying. He needed to focus and function as a professional, even though this suddenly affected him on a very personal level.

  Ari, Jacques, and Pierre spoke in animated French about the political problems in France, the rise of the far right, and how it was impacting the French economy with uncertainty around the upcoming elections. Pierre, who was vociferous in his contempt for the current French president, got up and went to the washroom. When he returned, he told them that there was a back door leading to an alley behind the café.

  Once Pierre returned to the table, they held a quick discussion, during which they agreed that Jacques and Pierre would shoot the two thugs and Ari would get behind Al-Baghdadi and finish him with the garrote.

  There were still a few patrons in the café. The three soldiers concluded that they could be out the back door and away from the scene before anyone reacted to call the police. Pierre’s biggest concern was the young barman/waiter; he was not that busy, and therefore he was paying attention to all the patrons and general activities inside the café. The single waiter was in and out, serving coffee and pushing the pastry cart; he would not be so quickly aware of anything untoward occurring.

  They discussed the chance that the barman would be able to identify at least one of them — probably Ari, as he had arrived alone and spent the most time in the café. After some cautious discussion, they agreed it was a risk they would have to take. None of the three operators, Ari and the two Frenchmen, wanted to harm the innocent man, but they were prepared to neutralize him if necessary.

  Jacques and Pierre stood and said goodbye to Ari in French, then both went inside the café — one to pay the bill and the other to the restroom. They did this with a flourish; noticed and yet unheeded by the three terrorists as Pierre and Jacques walked by their table in a lively conversation. As they came alongside the two goons, they raised the silenced Berretta pistols from their right legs and shot each in the nape of the neck.

  Ali-Baghdadi’s eyes bulged in shock and he stood to investigate the sudden spurts of blood. He didn’t notice as Ari slipped behind him and in one quick moment severed his carotid artery with the piano wire. All three kills took less than five seconds, and Ari, Jacques, and Pierre were out the back door of the café before anyone, even the barman, realized what had transpired.

  The barman, poor fellow, was left to assess the situation — copious amounts of blood, three dead patrons, and several screaming, traumatized customers, including the waiter, who was rooted to the floor in shock. The barman was overwhelmed; he never even registered the three men who hastily exited through the rear of the café as he urgently called for emergency assistance.

  When Leah and Esther met Ari for lunch, he seemed distant yet satisfied with himself. Taking another human being’s life was not something he ever relished or enjoyed, but by eliminating a terrible threat, Ari and his two French companions had saved all three possible targets, and that was most satisfying. There was also a feeling of settling an old score for his grandparents, Ephraim and Miriam, whose lives had been ripped apart by the evil that had lived in this beautiful city only a few short years ago. To this day, neither his grandfather nor grandmother had ever discussed their time in Auschwitz. They never mentioned the hell they survived there or the subsequent death march in January 1945. Ari mentally noted this as he remained mindful of Dr. Aronstein’s teachings at McGill.

  Applying the rules of bioethics and philosophy was a challenge when confronted with taking another human life. Many was the time, and now was another, when Ari wrestled with whether any killing of his violated the Ten Commandments. Ironically, his grandfather Ephraim and Dr. Jackson Aronstein had each separately explained the rabbinical thoughts on this commandment. “Thou shalt not murder” means that you shall not murder for gain or crime. As the ancient Hebrews were forced to kill to protect their families and lives, so were the modern-day Jews of Israel. Having settled that internal argument once again, Ari sat back to enjoy lunch with his family.

  Jacques and Pierre checked in to DGSE headquarters two hours later, as they drove across the border into Germany. Laurent Tremblant, fully understanding Ari’s situation, had advised the CIA, SIS, and the Mossad, who informed 9 of Al-Baghdadi’s demise. The LVT (BVT) — Landesamt für Verfassungsschutz und Terrorismusbekämpfung (State Offices for the Protection of the Constitution and Counterterrorism) — quickly took over from the local police. The LVT commander, Joachim Voelpel, informed the media that the killings were part of a Serbian gang war and the perpetrators were probably professional assassins long gone from Austria. By assuming charge of the investigation, he took statements from the witnesses — the most credible being the barman, who had sorry little to offer as the incident had unfolded so fast.

  “There were three men who spoke good French. I heard shots, they left in a hurry, but so did everyone else. Did the French guys kill him?”

  “Could you identify them again?” questioned the inspector assisting Voelpel.

  “No.” The bartender was still shaking. “All I remember is that they were maybe in their thirties. No hair on their faces. Short dark hair — at least I think so. They were definitely French. I don’t even know if they even did it — it all happened so fast. I think they ran out the door with everyone else, on Schottenring. I don’t even remember what they were wearing! Everything
happened so fast! I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

  Voelpel had sidelined the local police investigation and shut down any further description of Ari and his DGSE colleagues being disseminated to local law enforcement. Quietly, he confirmed to his counterparts in SIS, the CIA, Mossad, and DGSE that Al-Baghdadi was indeed dead.

  After an enjoyable lunch, Leah and Esther met up with Ari at the hotel and continued their vacation in Vienna. Ari for some reason now had a better feeling about the city. Leah and Esther were fascinated by the Leopold Art Museum. Esther particularly was a great fan of the famous Austrian artist Gustav Klimt and the Leopold museum housed the largest collection of Klimt’s works.

  That evening, they all went to the famous Vienna concert hall and were treated to a magnificent performance of Strauss. On the way back to their hotel in a taxi, Ari and his family passed by the restaurant where he had had his encounter with Al-Baghdadi. It was as if nothing had happened. There were no crime scene tapes and the restaurant was full of Viennese and tourists, enjoying their late evening coffees and Sucher tarts.

  CHAPTER 18

  Later, in their hotel room, Leah and Ari watched Euro News and BBC 1, both of which had a news item on a suspected assassination of one of the most-wanted terrorists in the world, Al-Baghdadi, in a Viennese café. BBC One was closest to the mark, saying that Austrian authorities were describing the killing as a hit between two rival drug- and arms-smuggling gangs. In fact, their informed sources were telling them that since Al-Baghdadi had been one of worst terrorists still at large and on many most-wanted lists for many years, the probability was that he had been assassinated by either the Israeli Mossad or one of the US intelligence agencies — perhaps the CIA or a Department of Defense retribution team.

  Leah looked at Ari and their eyes met. His face was an expressionless mask.

  “What do you think happened, Ari? Those three men in the café. Immediately after you saw them you froze and chased us back to the hotel. It was you!” She whispered. “What they are saying about an Israeli assassination squad, that was you, wasn’t it? Ari, tell me!” Leah was careful not to raise her voice but did nothing to hide her shocked realization and frustration. “Oh, Ari! My God, this isn’t anything new for you, is it? All these years, you’ve kept your job hidden from me. I get it now. I understand you had to keep this work secret, but I am so scared for you, Ari! For us. For Esther… My God, I married a killer!” With this she let a tiny laugh escape, a laugh from pure nerves. “I trust you, Ari. I have to trust you. I only wish you would have trusted me.”