The Hand of Christ

by Joseph Nagle

  Soon, the pleasant female voice returned overhead letting him know that the train had arrived to his stop. After he exited the train, the Handler quickly found the car that was waiting for him; it was at the end of the passenger pickup area, just as had been planned. The thin Rocky Mountain air instantly hit him; he thought to himself that he really needed to workout more as his breaths came quicker and labored. The two-man team he was there to meet was in a rented, grey Dodge Avenger that had been procured from one of the airport car rental companies. When the two men – Chris and Trevor – saw their Handler they stepped out of the car.

  “Did you have a good flight, sir?” The question came from the much taller of the two men.

  “It was fine for me, Chris, but not so fine for Dr. Sterling. The guy was throwing up all over the place. He really stunk up the plane. You’d think that by now he would have gotten past his nauseating fear of flying.”

  Chris only shook his head and laughed, “You should have seen him when he came out of the Shadow and we told him that he was getting in a Hornet. I swear, I think he was out cold for most of the flight from the Mediterranean. I thought he was going to cry when we took him to the fighter at Skunk Works.”

  Turning serious, Chris looked at his Handler and asked, “What are our instructions?”

  The second CIA Officer moved in closer to hear the man’s response, “Termination authorized. We’ll conduct the ops tonight. Elimination of subject is our primary, the book is our secondary. Collateral damage approved. Have the two of you finished audio operations, have you been able to paint the windows with the directional laser, any positive hits?”

  “We tried using the laser, sir, but the target’s home has thick wooden slat blinds that have been closed the entire time. We can’t get the laser through them. The only windows where the blinds are drawn are on the third floor but there is no point outside of the home that gives us any trajectory with the lasers.”

  “I am not surprised; the target didn’t get to where he is by being stupid. Are the secondary listening devices in place, have you two conducted the recon?”

  “Yes, sir, the bugs are in place and operating. There was no need to use the silent drill, we used the new bugs.”

  “You used the new bugs, the ones that get their power from the air; are they working?”

  “Yes, sir, we have confirmed their functionality already, they are transmitting beautifully. Also, we have the blueprints for the home and have set up a preliminary launching point from the creek bed that is across from his house. The area is dense with trees and shrubs eliminating detection by sight and the high water flow of the creek will mask a lot of noise.”

  “What about the weather, what’s your meteorological report?”

  “Recent thunderstorms have forced the local county to release water from the reservoir that is near the target’s home, that’s why the water flow is so high. The climate here is pretty dry, so the water builds up and flows fast. The water released from the reservoir upstream feeds directly into the creek. The creek is directly across the street from target’s home and has created nothing short of a roar. Thunderstorms are still in the area and should continue throughout the night. The water and storms will both muffle any sounds by the OH-58 Delta to those that may have their windows open. Damn lucky for us.”

  “Have you confirmed this by measuring the decibel level?”

  Chris responded with a bit of sarcasm to his Handler’s question, “I am offended, sir, you mock my professionalism. Of course I measured it. The only thing the neighbors will hear if anything at all is the wind from the rotors, which will sound just like normal wind. The Delta’s rotors are retrofitted and silenced with dampeners, both front and rear.”

  The Handler was impressed so far and asked, “What about entry, have you made the necessary arrangements?”

  Turning serious once more, Chris mechanically answered, “Yes, sir, small T/8 incendiary devices are in place. Remote detonation will burn the lines for power and phone. We hot-wired the neighborhood’s converter box as well; the street lights will go out at the same time. It will look like a surge of electricity caused the burn. The lightning that has been lingering in the area for the past three days is expected to be almost overhead. The reports indicate continued strikes for tonight and tomorrow. The burn will, no doubt, be blamed on the lightning. We can initiate the detonation sequence from the chopper.”

  “Launch point? What have you found out?”

  It was Trevor’s turn to chime in and he said, “Sir, the location and topography of the target’s home gives us the perfect plan for entry from the Delta. If we launch the operation from the North side of the home, that is, from the front of the home we’ll be just over the high waters of the creek. All sound should be masked if we fly at an altitude at least two-hundred feet above ground level.

  “What of collateral detection?”

  “There are no homes opposite of or that face the target’s home making visual detection minimal. The Delta will, of course, have no reflective markings or running lights. There are no overhead cables or electric wires. This eliminates the risk of contact or collision upon insertion. Lastly, the target’s master bedroom has a large bay window that you could fly a plane through. We’ll go through the window; he’ll have no time to respond.”

  Chris’s final testament brought a smile to the Handler’s face, “It should be a piece of cake, sir.”

  “Excellent. Damn good recon, boys. We’ll conduct a dry run one hour prior to mission go-live. We go in tonight at 2400 hours. Now, with business out of the way, where can we get a good steak? The fucking airlines only serve miniature bags of twisted pretzels.”

  “That, sir, is one of the best parts. Right down the street from the target is a great little local pub called the Bull & Bush and is staffed with beautiful big-breasted local co-eds.” Trevor was pantomiming the shape of big bosoms, and pretended to grab them. “They make their own beer and have the best steak in a ten-mile radius. We might even be able to catch the Broncos game.”

  The Handler was laughing heartily, his slightly large belly shaking a bit as he replied, “Trevor, it’s always the same with you: beer, babes, ball, and bovine.”

  “Don’t forget bangin’ heads, sir.” Walking to the rental car and opening the front passenger door and motioning for the Handler to get in Trevor suggested, “Shall we, sir?”

  “I am famished, to the Bull & Bush gentlemen, no killing on an empty stomach. That’s an order.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Majlis Building

  Baharestan Square - Iran

  Built in 1999, the unattractive neo-modern building has housed the Iranian Parliament - the unicameral legislative body of Iran - since 2004. Out front, a large mob of angry and distraught Iranians had assembled. Their ranks were continuing to swell as news of the Ayatollah’s death spread like a wild fire throughout the Islamic republic.

  Men were holding large signs of the dead Supreme Leader. Some were crying whilst others screamed with their hands thrown to Allah. Many carried assault rifles, some of the rifles were American made. There was a growing chorus of repetitive chants: death to Zion, death to America!

  Most of the 290 Majlis of Iran, elected members of the unicameral body, had already taken their places inside and were in the middle of their own chaos. At the front of the room sat the twelve members of the Guardian Council and the nineteen members of the Supreme National Security Council, which was now absent its assassinated leader, the Supreme Leader Ayatollah Moseini.

  Also missing from the predominantly Shi’a assembly was the sole Majlis that represented the recognized Jewish minority religion. Without him the others would have to wait to begin, patience was wearing very thin.

  Suddenly, the doors were burst open by two Iranian Revolutionary guards; between them, they drug the body of the missing Majlis by his arms. Once inside, three more guards poured into the assembly room with their commander.

  Screaming orders, the c
ommander shouted to one of the guards, “Close the door, bolt it!”

  Turning his attention to the other guards he barked, “Leave him there, and secure the other doors!”

  Quickly the soldiers dispersed to each corner of the room and slammed the other doors shut of the voluminous room and locked them. Each soldier remained posted at a door; each had his weapon at the ready.

  President Ahmad was as shocked as every other government official, but was more enraged; he jumped to his feet he shouted, “What in the name of Allah is happening! Is that al-Rabimein, the missing Majlis?”

  The commander of the guards that had entered quickly ran to the front of the assembly and stood rigid at the position of attention before the head of the country. “Mr. President, the streets are filled with men. They are screaming for the head of Zion! They killed the Jewish Majlis! He was trying to get into the building and the people in the street nearly tore him apart. Three of my men were badly injured trying to get them off of him. We were too late, sir, the Majlis is dead.”

  The Jewish Majlis lay face down in the center aisle of the Parliament. It was clear that his body had been badly beaten. It was even more apparent to any that dared look upon his body that both legs had been broken, each were extended in an unnatural position from his body. His clothes were tattered and stains of blood marked the sites of the many injuries that he suffered. Some of the other Majlis were repulsed by the ravaged man; some were quietly gloating and praising Allah for one less Jew.

  The rattled and disjointed atmosphere was quickly met with the slamming of a heavy gavel by the President of Iran, “Fellow Majlis! Put yourselves in order!” Pointing to two of the guards, “You and you, take the body of our fellow Majlis into the back wash room, clean him and cover him.”

  The two guards the President had pointed at moved expeditiously to the body; quickly the dead Jewish Majlis was removed.

  “The rest of you, take your seats immediately! I will not tolerate this unruly behavior! Our Supreme Leader has been assassinated; we have much to decide here today!”

  “But, Mr. President,” the interruption came from one of the ninety Majlis that were members of the Unified Principalists Front, “the people outside, they need some direction. They need to be reassured that we will not tolerate the murder of our Ayatollah! We need to act with expedience and force!”

  “Mr. Zahedi,” the President was calm and resolute, a demeanor that was greatly admired by the nation, “our people will receive their answer soon. Let them mourn, it is necessary for them to do so. They will soon receive what they seek. Now please, let us offer our praises to Allah and ask him to show us the way.”

  The room grew quiet as the President stepped forward to the podium. Addressing the men, he would be very clear with his intention as he prepared to outline the next steps. The President looked upon the Majlis from his podium and then addressed them, “The killing of our Supreme Leader was a US mission backed by Israel and was carried out by the American CIA. Men, it is simple. Our Ayatollah is dead and we must retaliate. I have been in touch with the President of the United States and have given him forty-eight hours to hand over the CIA Officer responsible for the slaying. I do not believe that they will, like cowards they have already denied everything to me and to the world.”

  The men in the room began to yell out their disgust for the United States, this pleased President Ahmad; he would use their hatred and anger to get what he wanted.

  One man, of the remaining 289 Majlis stood, and drew the attention of the others; it was the Speaker who asked, “Mr. President, what are you suggesting should the US not comply with your request?”

  “Mr. Speaker, your question is honorable and one that I am prepared to answer. First, as I have just stated, the Americans will not comply. They are cowards. Over time they have proven themselves to be absolutely untrustworthy. The infidels of that nation have infiltrated Hezbollah; they were behind the attack in Damascus.”

  A roar of disbelief cascaded in a wave through the large chamber. One man shouted, “Impossible. No Muslim would ever kneel to those western infidels!”

  The President wished it had been different, raising his hand to calm the forum he went on with what he knew. “You are right. But it is more correct to say that no good Muslim would bend to America. Unfortunately, what I have said is true. The Americans attacked the great mosque of Umayyad killing everyone except for one of their own. Then, the one that they did not kill murdered our Ayatollah while he sat in his home. Proof has been delivered; I have the murderer’s weapon, VEVAK has confirmed that it was a CIA issued gun.”

  The Majlis’ wails were deafening, and most roared for the destruction of America. The President let them have their emotions for a moment; it would be easier to appeal to their anger. What he would ask for next, not only will explicitly answer the Speaker’s question, but would require the complete support of the entire Parliament.

  Before letting them get entirely out of hand, the President raised his hand once more. Obediently, all the men complied by turning silent. Many of the faces he now stared upon were flush with anger; he could sense that this was the time. Scanning the room he tried to look at every Majlis in his eyes. Behind him, he could feel the support of the two Councils as he readied to continue, “Fellow Majlis, our brothers, the people of Iran deserve to hear what I will say next.”

  The President of Iran signaled to the audio/visual technician that stood waiting in the second floor window overlooking the assembly; in moments, all of the television monitors in the room came to life. On them was the face of the President. The session was now being broadcast on all of Iran’s television channels and radio stations as well as over loudspeakers to those in the streets. The entire country, along with the entire world, would receive this broadcast.

  It was a calculated move by the President. He wanted the world to know that he was serious, that Iran is the newest superpower.

  Looking into the camera that was positioned in front of his podium, President Ahmad spoke, “To my countrymen and to the world, today is one of the darkest days of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Today, we mourn a loss no infidel nation can understand. For decades, the West has raped our lands for our oil, and for generations, they have broken the backs of our people and abused the foundations of our religion; they have done this solely for the pursuit of power and wealth. They have resorted to any means to justify their own greedy ends, including murder!”

  The President paused brilliantly for effect waiting until the words wanted to scream from him.

  “They stepped on our lands with their unclean feet and refused to respect our ways. They killed our Ayatollah! They have blasphemed Allah!”

  The roar from the thousands gathered outside reverberated through the walls of the building and joined with the shouts from the Majlis. The President closed his eyes and reveled in the energy.

  Staring ahead once more and with a measured focus, President Ahmad continued, “People of Iran, on many occasions the Supreme Leader, the Guardian Council, the Majlis, and I have sat in this room working for you and for your families. There have been times when we did not agree, but pledged to one another, to the men of our country, and to Allah, that we would do what is right. To do what our Hadith mandates.”

  Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts and to take a deep breath, the President was ready to ask those present for a power that no Iranian had ever yielded. He could feel the eyes of the nation on him; he felt correctly that they were behind him.

  “This travesty, this callous and cowardly murder in cold-blood upon our nation was the most egregious event that could occur to our Islamic republic, to Islam. We have been robbed of our great Imam at the hands of an infidel nation and supporter of Zion. My countrymen, there can only be one response!”

  Lowering his voice and staring intensely into the camera the President was fiery but unambiguous in the delivery of a timeless statement, one that has been uttered by many Muslims, “The Koran is very clear wi
th the manner in which apostates are dealt, it is our right, and it is our duty to make war upon every sinner! They deserve one fate, they deserve death! These are not my words; these are the words of Allah!”

  The heads of the Majlis shook emphatically in agreement, hands were held high in the air; some men were unafraid to let their tears fall. The mob in the street stood silent and stoic, soaking in the words of their leader. Across the globe, normal daily broadcasts were interrupted in order to stream in the declaration now being given by President Ahmad.

  The President of the United States was in the Oval Office, joined by the Vice President and the Joint Chiefs. All stared upon the live broadcast.

  “My fellow Muslims, my fellow learned men; today we stand at a crossroads in Islam. The powers of the West have for centuries sought to destroy us, to end our Islamic revolution!”

  The President’s voice rose steadily until he nearly shouted from his pulpit, his hands clasped the sides of the wooden lectern and were white from his iron grip. His voice coursed powerfully through the assembly and into the streets.

  “They endeavor to sever our unity by making us destroy one another, they seek to weaken Islam! They made the Arab powers of Saudi Arabia concede to their will, and have conquered Iraq, they occupy Afghanistan! In 1979 we emphatically ended their puppet government in our country when we rose up as a people and rid this land of the American backed autocratic and despotic rule. In 1979 the Islamic revolution began, but our revolution has not yet ended!

  The President’s fists were now in the air, and shook at the culmination of each sentence, “Today, the Americans have come back to Iran once more! They have killed our leader, and now they want to occupy us, to destroy us! I say, NO to America, NO to their attacks, NO to those lovers of Zion!”