Chasm Waxing: A Startup, Cyber-Thriller

by B. Michaels

  Rahmati liked the Russian fast-attack vehicles. They were speedier and more maneuverable than the Caliphate’s pickups and SUVs. They looked less like Rahmati’s dune buggy, and more like a four seat, covered ATV. There were two bucket seats in the front. In the backseat, on a raised platform, was the gunner’s seat and a turret mounted .50-cal. The machine gun had a 360-degree arc of fire.

  *

  The Immortals pulled off the road 45 minutes later. Rahmati studied the Tal Azan FOB in the distance. It was the highest point around. Thick billows of black smoke, illuminated by the moonlight, rose from the FOB.

  Rahmati exited his ATV and walked to the Immersive Media Team. Their fast-attack vehicle housed a TV camera in place of the .50-cal. He ordered a drone operator to launch a quadcopter and make sure it wasn’t spotted. In less than 10 minutes, the drone was hovering over the FOB. Rahmati looked at the real-time video feed and switched between night and thermal vision.

  “Bokun,” he said, under his breath. Bokun was Farsi for the f-word.

  The Syrians, Russians, and Iranians had been building and maintaining FOBs since late 2015. Some were more elaborate than others. They improved reaction times for military maneuvers, allowing troops to be closer to the action, without having to go all the way back to the main base.

  The Tal Azan FOB had 10-foot walls and strategically placed observation towers. The FOB was designed to protect all of southern Aleppo. It had room for up to 250 troops. Dug into the hillside, just outside the base, were a number of defensive positions. These positions contained Armata T-14 Tanks and 2S35 Koalitsiyas. The Koalitsiyas were self-propelled Howitzer guns, built on the Armata platform.

  That platform was Russia’s next-generation, self-propelled artillery configuration. It allowed for the use of interchangeable parts. This drastically lowered operating costs. The T-14’s assigned to Tal Azan were completely unmanned and remotely controlled. Inside the walls of the base was an artillery battery of four, 2A65 Msta-B towed Howitzers and a 9A52-4 Tornado multiple rocket launcher.

  Rahmati surveyed each of the Russian heavy armaments. Everything except the towed Howitzers were in flames. The Immortals grouped around Rahmati to listen as he described the drone footage.

  “The Russians are going to be so pissed. I don’t know how they did it. Daesh blew up the tanks and the tracked Howitzers.” Tracked vehicles, like tanks and bulldozers, used thick treads instead of wheels.

  “It looks like they’ve killed all the Syrian forces. I see about 125 men lying face down. Three Immersives are walking around, checking to make sure everyone is dead. The rest of Daesh looks like their loading their pickups with ammunition and provisions. They’re trying to jerry-rig a way to tow the Howitzers. It looks like they’re trying to shoot a publicity video, too. I’m sure Daesh is going to take all that booty back to Raqqa. It’s a little over 100 miles from here.”

  Hadi was counting the Caliphate spec op forces he could make out. “There’s about 30 Daesh. And I count eight pick-ups. I can’t believe a force of 30 men took out 125.”

  “The fight was over before it began,” said Rahmati. “Whatever the Immersives did to take out all that armor scared the Syrians—literally to death. They should’ve known that the Daesh doesn’t take prisoners. Rapid, concentrated firepower almost always defeats absolute strength. That was the secret to Hitler’s blitzkrieg.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do Immortals. Let’s quietly pass Tal Azan and go about 15 miles down the dirt road. There’s an excellent line of trees we can use to set a trap. As Daesh absconds with our equipment to Raqqa, we’re going to ambush them.” The road from Tal Azan ran east-west to Raqqa.

  “Let’s lay all the anti-tank mines we have. We’re going to try to take out as many pickups as we can. Make sure you place the mines in the pattern we’ve practiced for Daesh’s vehicles. Try to anticipate the dispersal pattern of the pickups after the first HiLux is hit. And let’s stagger our fast-attack vehicles. Remember our training. Space yourselves accordingly.

  “Your arcs of fire are the key to this mission—this battle will be hot. Don’t shoot each other! Our .50-cals will have to take out their .50-cals. It’s eight against five, but you’re better than Daesh. Every other fast-attack vehicle is equipped with a portable, anti-tank missile launcher. Make sure you have those ready in case they happen to move any of the tracked vehicles. They all look unusable, but you never know.”

  Rahmati addressed the drone operator. “Keep the drone up. I know its signal can’t go any farther than about three miles. So maintain radio contact and update me when they leave. Then hide. We’ll pick you up after our successful operation, inshallah.”

  An hour later, the Immortals had accomplished all of Rahmati’s orders. The mines were laid and buried. The vehicles were all concealed in the tree lines. Camouflage netting further obfuscated the lines of the fast-attack vehicles looking down on the road. The media team’s machine was stationed 30 yards behind Rahmati’s position. Rahmati ordered them to launch another drone.

  Rahmati was second furthest east of the direction from where he expected the mine detonations. Rahmati’s group consisted of Hadi, one of the quad riders, and a media team member holding a portable TV camera.

  The drone operator watching Tal Azan radioed Rahmati. “They’ve finished loading up, and I think they are getting ready to move out. They’ve stripped all the weapons and ammunition they can carry. It looks like all the pickups have running boards and handrails. That will allow them to fit more plunder in the truck beds. They’ve hitched four howitzers to the Toyotas. They’re also taking two, fully-loaded KamAZ Mustangs.” KamAZ Mustangs were Russian heavy cargo trucks—military semi-trucks.

  “Roger,” replied Rahmati. “At least, they’re going to be weighed down by all our equipment.” Rahmati radioed his Immortals. He relayed all the information. “Let’s try to take out the Mustang drivers with headshots. I’d rather not blow up our side’s weapons and provisions.”

  “They’re moving out—7 Toyotas and 2 Mustangs. No armor,” radioed the drone operator.

  Rahmati told the Immortals to be ready for action in the next 20 to 30 minutes. He had assigned the other quad rider to a western-most position, about a mile in front of the first, fast-attack vehicle hiding in the tree line. His job was to recon the convoy and indicate when he spied the first Daesh vehicle.

  Then came the radio call that changed everything.

  “Commander Rahmati, we’ve got a problem.”

  It was from the Immortal crew furthest east, closest to the direction of Raqqa. “There’s a huge dust cloud approaching rapidly. From its speed, I’d say it’s more Caliphate in a bunch of pickups. It looks like 15-20 SUVs. They’re barreling in on our position. I’d guess they’re traveling at 70-80 miles per hour.”

  “Roger,” replied Rahmati, turning his head towards Raqqa. He also saw the swelling dust cloud. Rahmati tried to remain calm and keep his wits. The numbers were the first things that raced through his mind.

  There were 30 Immersives, the Caliphate’s most elite fighters, closing in on his position from the west. From the east, another group of Caliphate—probably numbering 75 to 100 men—was rapidly approaching. At a minimum, they’d have to deal with well over a dozen .50-cals and perhaps over 120 men, armed with assault rifles.

  Rahmati called headquarters. “Any update on that air support?”

  After a reply that seemed to take forever, the Russian speaker answered, “Nyet.”

  “Damn Russians!” exploded Rahmati.

  “Muhammad, we’d better get out of here,” pleaded Hadi. “We can regroup in Aleppo and come back with a stronger force, complete with armor and air support.”

  Rahmati contemplated the situation. He looked over his shoulder at the TV camera. “No. Immortals, tonight we either obtain victory or become martyrs. If we become martyrs, I pray that God will accept each and e
very one of us into paradise, based upon our actions in this battle. But, I’m not planning on any of us being martyrs, inshallah. Remember the odds against the Prophet at the Battle of Badr!

  “I’m sending a quad down the line to pick up the anti-tank weapons. He can probably carry two at a time, if one of you rides with him. He’s going to drop off the missiles with the Immortals closest to Raqqa. Go!”

  The anti-tank missile system was a man-portable variant of the Kornet-EM. Each fire-and-forget rocket weighed 35 pounds. Rahmati hoped the four missiles could at least take out four of the vehicles driving from Raqqa. If they got lucky, each blast could disable more than one SUV.

  The quad rider completed the task quickly. Rahmati was glad that Daesh coming from Tal Azan were moving so slowly. Greedy pigs get slaughtered, he thought. The dust-cloud from Raqqa was much closer. They looked to be about seven miles out. That was just outside of the five-mile range of the Kornet rockets.

  The quad rider on recon radioed. “I see them. The first HiLux will pass me in the next 30 seconds.”

  A few minutes later, the Immortals closest to Tal Azan, radioed that they had eyes on the convoy. “Get ready Immortals,” whispered Rahmati into his radio. “Make sure you wait until the entire convoy is within our arcs of fire.”

  The Immortal operating the hand-held TV camera happened to look up at the sky. Thick clouds had moved in. One cloud formation caught the cameraman’s eye. He pointed the camera skyward. A cloud impeccably draped the moon, making it appear as a sliver of a crescent moon.

  The first mine exploded. Then another.

  The Immortals opened fire on the Tal Azan convoy with their assault rifles and 50-cals. Snipers took out both KamAZ Mustang drivers. Rahmati thought he heard the blast of the first Kornet anti-tank missile fired at the Raqqa convoy. The dust cloud from that direction now looked to be three miles out. Many Daesh released the SUV handrails, dropping to the ground to form defensive lines. The fighting was fierce. But Rahmati felt he was getting the better of Caliphate column, so long as the Raqqa reinforcements didn’t arrive.

  At that moment—from out of nowhere—a fierce wind blew from the northeast. A blinding, blood-red sandstorm rose up from the dirt road. Sandstorms, known as shammals, were more frequent in the summer. But they weren’t unheard of in the winter.

  This shammal was unusual because it seemed only to kick up dirt from the road, completely enveloping it. It appeared to be living, and breathing, and feeding on the Caliphate. The Daesh convoy swerved to exit the tempest. But the red sandstorm grew and followed them. Rahmati and Hadi looked at one another in disbelief. The same storm blanketed the other Raqqa procession, now about a mile away.

  Rahmati ordered the Immortals to switch to thermal vision. They continued the barrage of .50-cals, raining bullets down upon both convoys. With the sandstorm swallowing and blinding Daesh, the thermal vision enabled the Immortals to shoot the Caliphate, like hyenas in a cage.

  Rahmati could see the confused Caliphate shooting at one another. The imagery from Rahmati’s thermal vision goggles was recorded. The cameraman behind Rahmati pointed his camera back to the moon. Now the clouds made the moon look like a much fatter sliver, a little over one-fourth of a full moon.

  The cameraman yelled at Rahmati and pointed to the sky. “Commander, the crescent moon is waxing.”

  *

  This was a total victory for Commander Muhammad Rahmati and his Immortals. All of it was depicted from numerous angles, in different formats. The drone feed was nearly supernatural. Commentators would later say the sandstorm looked like a red dragon, consuming its prey.

  All the Caliphate spec ops that assaulted Tal Azan were dead. The Immortals drove the Mustangs back to the FOB. Seven Toyota HiLuxes from the Raqqa convoy lay in ashes. Rahmati assumed any remaining Caliphate retreated.

  Upon arriving at Tal Azan, Rahmati found one living Syrian soldier. He said that Daesh sent in two waves of quadcopter drones. The first wave fried all the FOBs electrical systems. The second wave was composed of suicide drones, equipped with extremely powerful explosives. The blasts ate through the Russian armor.

  “Now, the Russians are going to be really pissed. Those T-14 Armatas are supposed to be equipped with smart, explosive-resistant armor. And there won’t be a drop of vodka left in Syria, when they find out that their next-generation tanks were fried by a back-pack sized, drone operated, EMP devices. So much for their robot tanks. Siberia can expect to receive some new residents shortly. I’m sure the former Armata engineers will love their new gulag.” EMP devices emitted a burst of electromagnetic radiation that destroyed electronics.

  Against the greatest odds, Muhammad Rahmati and his Immortals, were victorious over a force of superior numbers. The Immersive Media Team worked feverishly to produce a polished video. They spliced together film from the captured Daesh video equipment, vividly capturing their deaths with up-close footage. They kicked off the video by harkening back to Muhammad’s triumphant victory against superior odds at the Battle of Badr.

  Rahmati posted the video two days later.

  Chapter 26 – AVICENNA

  8:00 a.m. (EST), Tuesday, November 3, 2020 – Greenwich, CT

  Adler Capital’s Offices, 112 Greenwich Plaza

  As Tuesday morning dawned in the US, Josh and Becca arrived at Adler Capital. This was the first time the couple had been able to speak securely with Jared, since they returned from Memphis. All of them met in the server room. In the midst of the whirling fans and flashing lights of the racks of computers, they filled each other in.

  Jared was excited to show Josh the newest results from the AI trading algorithm. “Josh, your AI is particularly useful in trading oil and currencies.”

  “That’s awesome, Dad. How’s the property acquisition going?”

  “It’s been a real challenge. I’m working anonymously, through a real estate agent recommended by a friend. My agent is representing that the buyers are Arab. He’s made me promise that someone in my shell companies be Arab.

  “We’ve identified a couple of sellers, but the price is exorbitant. They’re about one-fourth to one-third of a mile from your geo-marker. So, there’d be a lot of digging. There're many bidders for property in the neighborhood. And of course, the Arabs want to keep the real estate under their control.”

  Josh sighed in frustration. “Don’t worry,” said Jared, “for the right price, someone will always sell.”

  “Mr. Adler,” said Becca, “this is the list of items Professor McMillan wanted.”

  “How was the Professor?” asked Jared, reviewing the inventory.

  Josh replied, “He’ll be able to go to Jerusalem right after the holidays. He won’t tell anyone that he’s looking for the Ark. It’s bad enough that he’ll be conducting a non-sanctioned archeological dig in Israel. It’s highly illegal.”

  “The Professor is on sabbatical all next semester, so he’ll have time,” added Becca. “Our archeological expert seems dubious about the location, but he did educate us about the site. The Professor doesn’t have a problem working with El Jefe’s crew, as long as he’s in charge of locating the Ark. We’re planning on leaving the country a few days after Christmas. Did you talk to El Jefe?”

  “Yes, he’s all on board,” replied Jared. “For his assistance, I waived his hedge fund management fee of 2% of the balance and 30% of the profits. I comped it for a year. He’s thrilled. It’s going to save him millions of dollars. El Jefe will supply his best mining engineer, and four of his most trusted workers to help with the tunnel construction. I didn’t tell him what we’re looking for, and he didn’t ask.

  “So with you two, the Professor, and the Mexicans; the total team number will be eight. There should be enough people that you can keep digging 24 hours a day. I’m still working on lining up the remodeling crew. The Mexicans are planning on arriving in early December, provided I close on the property
quickly enough.”

  “As you know, El Jefe has some experience with digging secret tunnels. He said the first goal would be to dig the excavation shaft down to 40 or 50 feet. Then, they’ll build and reinforce a staging area. He advised you guys to stay underground as much as possible. He says his mining engineer is extremely skilled at hiding the entry for the tunnel.”

  “Eww!” screeched Becca. “That makes me so claustrophobic!”

  “Yeah,” said Josh. “That ventilation system better be rock solid, and we’ll need to dig a proper latrine.”

  Jared said, “I’ve set up a warehouse in Jerusalem to serve as storage for all the equipment. Oh, and I got you these.” Jared handed Josh and Becca over-sized envelopes, sealed by a drawstring. Both of them untied the pouch and emptied its contents.

  Out popped extremely high-end, fake Canadian passports and a manila folder. The folder contained pictures and their individual back stories. The pictures were of Josh and Becca. But, they were professionally Photoshopped to include Canadian landmarks. The passport photos were also theirs, but looked slightly distorted. The passport names were wholly different. Written on Josh’s passport was the moniker, Abraham Benjamin. He was a Canadian Jew. Becca was named, Sarah Boucher.

  “These are CIA quality passports and back stories. Everything will check out as long, as you correctly recite the details. Memorize them,” he said, lingering on the word, memorize.

  Josh looked at Becca’s passport. “Really Dad…Abraham and Sarah?”

  Jared laughed. “How could the Israelis not let you into the country?”

  “Ok,” said Josh, “that gives us eight weeks to keep working our plan. Becca will continue to improve her disinformation campaign software. We planted seeds that we’re engaged and celebrating with a cross country trip in a new A-Car, after Christmas. I’ll try to add some deep learning features to Becca’s disinformation program. And I can try to help you make more money, while you lock down the property and the equipment.”