Terror Cell (Danforth Saga Book 2)

by Joseph Badal

  “Not one bit.” Barrows pointed down the road. “The road to the Bravo Team site is up ahead.” Barrows turned right after a couple hundred yards and drove for a mile until they came to the missile site’s entry gate. As with the previous two sites, a Greek Air Force officer stood inside the perimeter fence, waiting for them. But, in this case, he wasn’t the base commander. It was a young lieutenant named Alexandros Kantelos.

  Michael and Barrows stepped from the Camaro and Barrows introduced Michael. “Where’s Major Petroangelos?” Barrows asked the Greek officer.

  Kantelos turned to look up at the mountain that separated Koropi from Athens. “He’s up at the command and control center.”

  Barrows nodded, as though he found nothing unusual about what Kantelos had told him. “You got your instructions from higher command?”

  Kantelos shrugged. “Yes, but I’m confused. They want us to inventory the missiles and warheads.” He smirked and said, “Has someone lost his mind? Where in God’s name would one of our missiles go?”

  Barrows smiled. “I asked the same question; but it isn’t the first time I’ve been asked to do something that makes no sense at all.”

  “Well, I suggest we get it over with. Today is supposed to be my day off, and”—he smiled, his face glowing with anticipation—“I have tickets to the opening ceremonies at Olympic Stadium.”

  Kantelos took the lead and walked Michael, Barrows, and the American duty officer, a Lieutenant Chris Schroeder, through the site. They met up with another Greek officer and two American guards at the entrance to the exclusion area. Michael decided to remain with the American guards while Barrows accompanied the Greek officers inside. He watched them disappear underground, then stared at the row of missile launchers on the other side of the exclusion area fence. All six of the launchers had white missiles mounted to them. The missiles were as long as semitrailers, with four fins at the rear. Strips of red ribbon stuck out from 12-inch by 12-inch doors affixed with screws to each missile, about five feet back from the tips of the noses. Michael guessed this was where the plug would be inserted to arm the warhead.

  He looked at the metal door which Barrows and the others had entered and temporarily zoned out, thinking about how nice the king-size bed in his room at the Grand Bretagne Hotel would feel. At first, he didn’t pay particular attention to the flash of light that struck his eye. He turned away, closed his eyes, and rubbed them. When he opened his eyes, there was the flash again. It lasted no more than a half-second. This time he tried to pinpoint the source of the light. It seemed to have come from the far side of the exclusion area, from beyond the perimeter fence. Michael moved to his right, to get an unobstructed view of the area there. As with the two other sites, this missile facility was built on a series of plateaus, with the exclusion area on the highest plateau. The headquarters buildings and barracks were on the lowest level, down near the road. Maintenance and storage buildings and a soccer field occupied a plateau in between. From where he stood, Michael had a clear view of the two lower plateaus and the entrance gate to the site.

  He moved his gaze slowly from left to right, trying to identify the source of the light flashes. The ground outside the site’s perimeter fence, as with the sites at Katsamidi and Thivai, had been cleared out to twenty yards from the fence. Beyond this open space, the site was surrounded by rocky, boulder-strewn ground dotted with scrub oak and juniper bushes.

  Barrows and the Greek officers exited the underground storage facility and Michael was about to walk back to join the others, when the bright light shined once again. And this time, Michael saw movement among a grouping of boulders about fifty yards above the exclusion area plateau. He’d originally tried to find the light source out of curiosity—he’d come to the conclusion he was wasting his time on these missile site inspections and was getting bored; but now his senses were on alert. The flash of light could have come from some metal object worn by a shepherd tending his flock. But something made him doubt it.

  He met Barrows as he left the exclusion area and waited while the Greek officers locked the gate behind them.

  “Anything else?” Kantelos asked Barrows.

  Barrows shook his head. “Enjoy the Olympics.”

  The Greek officer smiled and said, “I intend to.”

  The Greeks walked away. Barrows and Schroeder went over to the two American guards and chatted with them for a minute, doing what good officers should do, checking on their men’s welfare. When Barrows and Schroeder rejoined Michael, they walked back toward the headquarters area.

  “You have access to weapons here?” Michael asked Barrows.

  Barrows gave him an incredulous look, as though to say, What additional nonsense are you up to now? He shook his head a few times, then stopped and said, “Of course we have weapons; this is a military post. What do you want to do, go hunting for goats?”

  Michael stepped closer to Barrows. “That’s right, I want to go hunting. But not for goats. I’m more interested in the guy who’s up in the rocks above the exclusion area.”

  Barrows and Schroeder jerked toward the hills and started to stare at the hill above the base; but Michael hissed, “Don’t look up there.”

  Barrows face had gone nearly crimson; Schroeder’s face looked pale. “What do you want to do?” Barrows asked.

  “Do you have M-16s?”

  Barrows nodded. “And .45 caliber pistols.”

  ”We’re going to take a nice leisurely walk to wherever your arms room is located. We’re going to draw out a couple weapons, and we need to borrow boots and fatigues. These deck shoes and Dockers I’m wearing and your dress uniform ain’t going to cut it up in those hills. Can you pull together five of your men?”

  “Sure. What are you planning?”

  “We’re going to try to find out who’s spying on this place.”

  Michael and Barrows used the headquarters building to change into clothes Schroeder supplied. They were nearly dressed when a non-commissioned officer, a Sergeant E-6 named Jackson, and four other enlisted men arrived.

  Barrows introduced Michael to his men. “We have a possible problem,” Barrows said. “The reason I’m here this morning is to follow up on Intelligence that terrorists might be targeting one of our sites. Captain Danforth here saw at least one man in the hills above the exclusion area. We need to find out who he is. You will take orders from Captain Danforth, do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jackson said.

  “Thanks,” Michael told Barrows. He looked at Schroeder and asked if he could get his hands on a few radios. “I want to be able to keep in touch with you here in the headquarters building.”

  Schroeder looked crestfallen. “I thought I’d go with—”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant, but I need you here. You’re going to be responsible for making this work.” He waited to get a reaction from Schroeder. When the man nodded, Michael continued. “We need a diversion. I’ll bet those missile launchers up there can put on quite a show.”

  “Yes, sir,” Schroeder said. “They make a hell of a lot of noise when they are elevated into firing position.”

  “I want you to talk with the Greek lieutenant who gave us the tour, what was his name?”

  “Kantelos,” Barrows said. “But he was about to leave for Athens.”

  “Call the front gate and tell the guards we need him back here. Lieutenant Kantelos needs to take his men up to the exclusion area and have them raise some of those launchers.”

  “What can I tell Lieutenant Kantelos?” Schroeder asked.

  “Good question,” Michael said, smiling at the man. “Tell him just what we know. That we saw someone up in the hills and that we’re going to check it out. Raising the launchers will act as a diversion.”

  “He’s going to want to send a squad of his people with us,” Barrows said. “He’s not going to want to miss out on any action. Besides, the Gr
eeks are responsible for base security.”

  “I don’t want a bunch of armed Greek airmen, who I can’t communicate with, up in those rocks. Tell Kantelos to have a squad of his men ready to come to our assistance if we call for help.”

  Michael turned to Sergeant Jackson. “The sun’s pointed at the hillside, directly in the eyes of whoever is up there. I noticed there are several personal vehicles parked here, screened by the barracks building. Can you and your men get into one of those cars, with your weapons, without being seen?”

  Jackson said they could. “They’ll see us leave the base, though,” he said.

  “That’s exactly what I want them to see. When you get down the road far enough so it will appear you’ve left for town, take the access road up toward the command and control center. When you get halfway up the mountain, pull over and work your way into the hills. I want you to come in from above whoever’s up there. Captain Barrows and I are going to come in from the other side. If there are bad guys in the rocks behind the exclusion area, I suspect they’ll be looking down over the site, not up toward the mountain. We’ll take one of the radios; your team and Lieutenant Schroeder will each have one. Unless we’re fired upon, I want everyone to maintain radio silence. I’ll key the radio mike—two clicks—when we’re in position, and if we’ve sighted any bad guys. Jackson, three clicks on your radio will indicate you’re in position.”

  “Shouldn’t we alert headquarters in Elefsis?” Schroeder asked.

  “Let’s wait and see what we find,” Barrows said. “I don’t want to give the desk jockeys there heart attacks over some goat herder who accidentally wandered into the area.” Barrows waited for Schroeder to respond. When the lieutenant nodded his understanding, Barrows added, “Schroeder, your job is to monitor the radios. You call headquarters if you hear shots fired.”

  “Okay, guys, let’s do it,” Michael said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  AUGUST 13, 2004

  A ground crew bulldozed the hundreds of trees and shrubs that had been scattered around the runway to camouflage the brown-colored tarmac. A second crew used a half-ton truck to tow the first of the six Mirage jets onto the runway. After unhooking the hitch from the jet, the crew raced back to the hangar and brought out the second aircraft. When all the planes were lined up, one behind the other on the tarmac, the pilots harnessed into their seats, the canopies latched, Mirzadeh radioed to Ali, the senior pilot, to start his engine.

  “Hammurabi’s Hammer begins,” Mirzadeh said into the microphone, using the mission’s code name. “Allah will watch over you. The infidels will learn to never violate Islamic soil again.”

  “Inshallah,” Ali said.

  “Yes, God willing,” Mirzadeh said.

  The roar of six jet engines filled the air, reverberating off the hills forming the sides of Mirzadeh’s secret valley airfield. The ground trembled as though an earthquake had begun.

  The Mullah said a silent prayer for the success of the mission, while he watched the planes shoot skyward, their afterburners glowing red-hot. When they banked away from the valley and Mirzadeh could no longer see or hear them, he turned to his captain of the guard and growled, “Dismantle the place, and blow the charges in the hills. I want the airfield covered with enough debris that no one will ever be able to find any evidence the planes took off from Iran.”

  “Yes, Arbob, it will be done.”

  Mirzadeh noticed a hint of doubt showing on the captain’s face. “Is something bothering you, Homayoun?”

  “No, Arbob . . . it’s just that I can’t figure out how the pilots will be able to penetrate all the way into Greece without being seen. Even flying low in a stacked formation won’t protect them all the way into Athens.”

  Mirzadeh felt his face tighten and go hot. He almost blurted an angry retort, but then decided it was a logical question from an intelligent man. Homayoun had been a valuable supporter. He deserved respect.

  “You must have faith, Homayoun. In Allah and in me. Do you have that faith?”

  “Of course, Arbob.”

  “Good,” Mirzadeh said.

  While Homayoun directed his men in the destruction of the secret airfield, Mirzadeh told his driver to bring around his Land Rover. It was time to get away from here. Homayoun would take care of everything. He would order his men to transport the supplies, generators, and other equipment out of the valley, and he would detonate the explosives planted in the hills, swamping the huts and the airfield in rock and dirt.

  Mirzadeh pictured the Mirage jets flying to their destination. He suppressed a smile. It wouldn’t do for his driver to think he was anything but serious and severe. He turned to look out the passenger side window and again prayed that the plan would work. The planes were nothing but sacrificial goats. The pilots were as good as dead the instant they took off.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  AUGUST 13, 2004

  Ever since the American-led invasion of Iraq, U.S. AWACS planes had flown regularly scheduled flights over the area encompassing Iraq and its borders with Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Iran, and Syria. Usually these aircraft were accompanied by fighter planes, such as F-16 Fighting Falcons, to “cover their backs.” But there were no planes available to provide cover at this time, so the surveillance planes took off solo. The American military tried to have at least one plane in the air at all times; however, this was not always possible. Two of the AWACS aircraft were down for maintenance when Jack Cole’s request arrived at the Pentagon. The third plane assigned to this theatre of operation was being refueled in mid-air.

  The planes, through an agreement with the countries, flew across the borders of Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey. In the cases of Iran and Syria, the planes only approached the borders.

  But there was no agreement needed for the National Reconnaissance Office to direct satellites in outer space to look down on Iran and Syria. Although the NRO had many satellites, and some of those satellites criss-crossed the same areas of the Earth, it wasn’t possible for the NRO’s “eyes in the sky” to watch every part of the planet twenty-four hours a day.

  So, none of the NRO’s satellites picked up the six Mirage jets as they took off from the secret airfield in western Iran. Nor did they spy the men moving supplies and equipment from the airfield. But one of the satellites did pick up the image of a massive explosion near the Iraqi and Turkish borders with Iran. The images the satellite captured were electronically transmitted to NRO headquarters. This served to bring the area to the attention of analysts who went to work on the photographs. When they decided the images were of man-made explosions, they conveyed this information through channels to CIA headquarters, which, in turn, contacted the Pentagon to see if any of the military units in northern Iraq had detected any sort of explosion in the general area.

  The upshot of this burst of activity that started with the NRO and ended with the Central Command in Iraq was that the satellite photos were written off as nothing more than an anomaly. Some mining excavation work, perhaps.

  Just as the excitement of all those involved with trying to decipher the strange satellite images had subsided, another stimulus caused a tidal wave of adrenaline to burst upon several military commands. It started with a calm, but concise message transmitted from the now-refueled AWACS plane flying thirty thousand feet above western Turkey.

  “This is AWACS 1402. We’ve got a fast moving bird flying due west along the border between Syria and Turkey. He’s flying low and is twenty miles from the Aegean.”

  “You have an ID?” Air Force Command answered.

  The AWACS Intelligence Officer swallowed hard and wondered if this was the sort of incident that ruined careers. “I hit it with an IFF command.” He paused a moment and said, “It came back as Iraqi Air Force.”

  “The Identification Friend or Foe System told you the plane was Iraqi? That’s impossible. We destroyed the whole Iraqi
Air Force. They don’t have any planes or pilots left.”

  “That’s what I thought, too,” the Intel Officer said.

  “Keep an eye on the plane,” headquarters ordered. “I’ll get back to you; I’ve got another alert coming in.”

  The Communications Officer at Air Force Command took the second call, which was coming in from AWACS 1435—one of the planes that had been down for maintenance and had just been released for duty—flying along the Turkish Black Sea coast. By the time he had finished with the Intel Officer on the second AWACS flight, the Commo Officer knew he had a serious problem. He bumped the information he had gathered from the two AWACS flights up to higher command. The Colonel he talked with there already seemed to be a little excited. The news the Communications Officer passed on to the Colonel seemed to shock the man.

  “I want you to tell your pilots to patch directly into here. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” the Communications Officer said. “What’s going on?”

  “Just do as I ordered. NOW!”

  The Commander in Chief of 7th Army, United States Army in Europe, headquartered in Heidelberg, Germany, had authority over all U.S. military operations in Europe and the Middle East. The good thing about the way the U.S. military was constituted was that lower level commands had been empowered to make tactical decisions without having to wait for the Commander in Chief to approve every action. But when it came to authorizing the use of nuclear weapons, not even the Commander in Chief of USAREUR and 7th Army had that kind of authority. While the Commander waited for the White House to authorize the use of tactical nukes, he contacted his counterpart at the U.S. Navy and told him he needed intercept aircraft off a carrier in the Mediterranean. He ordered the Southern Command to go from DEFCON 5—the normal peacetime readiness condition—to DEFCON 4—the normal increased Intelligence and strengthened security measures condition. Changes in DEFCON status occurred in sequence. He already knew that they would have to quickly move to DEFCON 1, unless the situation very quickly changed for the better. He contacted NATO Headquarters and had them put their units on alert, including the Nike Hercules missile sites in Turkey and Greece.