“We were very close this last time. The test was nearly flawless.”
“Close? Flawless? Is that what you call destroying an entire seaside resort and killing God knows how many people? If you call that close and flawless I have a hand grenade course you may want to instruct, old friend.”
Ahmadinejad smiled and then turned fully to face General Yazdi.
“Hand grenades get the job done also, General. I’m sure I need not remind you they kill just as efficiently as any weapon. This hand grenade kills in a wide swath but can also be a little indiscriminate, wouldn’t you say?”
He looked hard at the ex-president of Iran. “Too wide. And too indiscriminate.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. The next test will be closer and we should see the desired effects of the Divine Prophet.”
“You don’t seem worried that our new president has ordered this project of yours shut down?”
“Yes, I am well aware of that. Now, are you prepared to fulfill your promise to the revolution, General Yazdi—a promise you yourself coerced me into over thirty years ago?”
“Loyalists to the revolution swell our ranks. When we strike at the new president and his backward government he will not be able to withstand the army’s wishes, and he will resign to save Iranian lives. Every gaming scenario we have run predicts this fact.”
The ex-president placed a hand on the shoulder of the general and patted it twice.
“I have no fear the people will see our new president for what he really is, a new western patsy. But we will need every loyal man to our cause by our side.” He paused and looked at the general with his penetrating and cold eyes. “And they may have to make the supreme sacrifice when the world learns of our true intent.” He started walking slowly down the curving hallway.
The general grimaced and then turned to follow the man he had created the night he was taken from his student housing the night of the Khomeini revolution.
“Have you prepared for the inevitable military response from the West?” He placed his hands behind his back.
“Our forces are ready with three hundred strike aircraft and five divisions of troops, and that is just for the securing of the capital. I have another full division guarding our salvation here at the university. Project Divine Prophet will remain secure. But if this apparatus fails to do what we want fast enough to stun our enemies in its harshness, we may fail. In the case of an all-out invasion we will not be able to maintain a defense for more than sixteen hours before our enemies knock down anything and everything in this country with the power to generate light from a lightbulb. The securing of the nuclear power generating facilities is paramount.”
“Divine Prophet will be operational after our final test. When we strike the Sea of Galilee that will be the precursor to go with our real target.”
“If we fail to strike our main target you do realize that Tehran will be vaporized in a microsecond? This act of war will be met with vigorous nuclear retaliation.”
“How can our enemy push a button if he no longer exists in this dimension?”
“I pray to God you are right, old friend, or there won’t be an Iranian people to lead as we will all be nothing but ashes.”
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad turned and looked back through the thick glass at the power plant, the very engine of one enemy that would destroy an even more bitter and ancient foe, and one that would lead his nation into the light of the modern world to take its rightful place. He stopped and saw the round, alien engine with its many vents and steam ports through the thick glass windows as the technicians worked diligently getting the plant back online. As he watched the amazingly varied multicolored lights wrapped around its circumference blink on and off in a series of patterns he would never understand, he saw the glow of the fuel rods inside that made the glass viewing ports on the engine shimmer with magical hues not seen anywhere in the world. Only here in Iran would the righteous peoples triumph over the Zionist invaders to their south.
“After the strike of the Divine Prophet our enemies will not even have ashes to bury, my friend.”
The general saw the confidence in the man’s eyes, or was it something else—possibly something that bordered on obsessive insanity toward the one goal that kept the ex–Iranian leader awake at night.
“What of the new president?” the general asked, trying to cover all of his questions before being dismissed by the now very private Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.
“It would take the new regime more than a year to find this hidden facility, and by then”—this time the smile was genuine—“his government will no longer be in existence.”
The general watched Ahmadinejad leave at a slow pace toward his room, where only a cot and a desk waited for the most powerful man inside Iran and most of the Middle East. The former head of Iranian intelligence watched the sadness of the scene, then frowned.
“I just pray that the existence you speak of extends to our cause.” He started to turn and then stopped. “And also to us.”
PRIVATE FLIGHT 3677
ISRAELI AIR FORCE
The military Learjet was cruising at 26,000 feet. The Israeli Air Force pilot relaxed and watched the European countryside far below vanish only to be replaced by the bleaker aspects as they neared their homeland. The small plane carried only two passengers.
General Shamni watched the woman as she stared at the white ceiling. She hadn’t uttered a word since their flight had lifted off from Romanian soil. He shook his head as he realized just how much of a son of a bitch he had become. He had used the dirtiest tricks in the book to get back one of his prized agents. He knew just how much Israel needed her children and this child was no exception. Anya Korvesky, again a major in the Mossad, had not said a word since she had watched Captain Carl Everett’s plane lift off an hour before their own aircraft. Shamni knew he had succeeded in breaking the young gypsy woman’s heart by pulling the mean trick that he had by using something that would drive a wedge between the American naval captain and the major—the attachment the man had with his past in the United States.
“Major, we have a dilemma at home. With this United Nations scare about extraterrestrial incursions running rampant, our friends in the world are starting to arm our old enemies with newer weapons—a lot of them.” He glanced at Major Korvesky but she made no indication that she was listening. “While we suspect that most of these weapons will be utilized against a real and not an imagined enemy like Israel, there are others that may seek to take advantage of the gifts of technology and strike at us.”
Anya remained silent and still as the general spoke seemingly to an empty seat.
“We are receiving very disturbing reports from our people inside of Iran. It seems they have redirected several power grids from major cities and provinces for what purposes we can only guess at. We suspect it has nothing to do with the reports of extraterrestrial invasion, as the Americans are also in the dark.”
“And this is the reason you have interfered in my life once again?” Anya said as she remained still. “I know Carl would have missed his home terribly, but I was willing to go anywhere to be with him. But you fed him the one piece of information that guaranteed that would never happen. You, Uncle, are a son of a bitch. Why should I risk my future and my happiness for pigs that act no differently than our enemies?” She finally looked at the military man.
He looked at her hard. “Sometimes we have to get into the gutter with those enemies, and you know that better than any agent that I have ever trained. Hell, you were better at this than I ever could be. We need you, Major, and we need to know what in the hell is happening inside the Iranian border. If we don’t get answers soon our prime minister will be forced to act against their power distribution centers.”
“You mean their nuclear facilities. That is what you people are fearful of, not the weapons being given to them for an alien invasion that will probably never happen. This is just an excuse to do what you have always wanted to do—destroy the Iranian a
bility to make nuclear weapons.”
The general gave the major a sincere look as he studied her angry features.
“If I cannot convince my smartest pupil, we have no hope of explaining our actions to the world if we do have to strike at the Iranian facilities.”
“You have to explain to the young people of our country why we have to be the policeman of the Middle East. If the Iranian nuclear question is so dangerous to us and the world why aren’t our friends and allies backing us in a unilateral attack?”
“Because they may not have the same intelligence we have on the situation.” He saw that she was about to throw her same old argument of sharing intel with other nations at him but he cut off the question with his raised hand. “We cannot prove a thing, but militarily speaking something is happening we cannot place our finger on. Military men are not being dispersed as their new president has ordered. Instead of keeping his many divisions on the border with Iraq as per their custom of late, the generals are spreading out divisions in very disturbing and unusual places.”
“Such as?” she asked, pretending that she wasn’t interested in the least. The general knew he had piqued her curiosity.
“Why place five divisions of their crack infantry in and around the capital without informing their new president of such a move? They have also disbursed many hundreds of their newest fighter jets to the south and we in Mossad believe those MiG-29s may be pointed directly at Israel’s throat.”
“The Americans, British, French, and Russians have been quiet on this?” she asked, finally sitting up in her seat.
“We don’t even know if they are interested at the moment due to their current political troubles over their military spending. Besides, the Americans are the ones leading the charge in the preparations for this supposed invasion of theirs.”
“You’re lying to me again, Uncle,” she said as she studied the man’s worried countenance. “You’re not telling me what else you have on the Iranians that is scaring you so badly.”
The general reached down, pulled out his small brown satchel, and placed it on his lap.
“What I am about to show you is highly classified. We stole it from the same source that gave us the information for your Captain Everett.” General Shamni pulled out a large photo. “This is from a KH-11 satellite flyover of the Lebanese coast sixteen hours ago.” He handed the photo to Anya.
“What is it I am looking at—a sea coast with nothing but sand and water?”
“You should know—you had an operational mission there three years ago. As I remember you eliminated a Lebanese national there for us.”
He could see Anya thinking as she studied the black and white recon photo. He saw her eyes widen as they roamed over the small bay area that wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Yes, that hole in the beach area there is where the Warwick Pangea Beach Resort used to sit.”
She sat up farther in her seat and looked more closely at the print.
“Impossible. There must have been an error in the GEO positioning the KH-11 used for her coordinates.”
“That was the initial position of our people in the analysis division, but the prime minister authorized an F-16 recon mission over the site.”
“And?” she asked when he paused.
“The resort was ripped from the sea and has vanished. The place is crawling with a United Nations contingency force and our fighter was lucky to get out before the Americans knew we were there.”
“What is the UN saying?”
“They’re not entertaining any ideas at the moment other than they believe the attacks from space have started. We have other beliefs.”
“And they are?” Anya asked as she again looked at the blank spot in the photo where one of the largest and most luxurious sea resorts in all of the Middle East used to sit. Now it was a torn-out cove of water with geysers of water from broken mains spewing forth their contribution to the mystery.
The Mossad general pulled out another piece of paper from his case after removing the space-based image from her fingers. He handed her a large computer printout.
“As you know we have kept our eyes open for any variance in the Iranian power output because they will need a massive spike to get their breeder reactor up and running. Well, we received a spike in consumption alright”—he paused and then tapped the white printout—“At the exact same moment it is believed the resort vanished into thin air.”
Anya looked at the numbers of the output from their three nuclear facilities used for power generation and saw that they had indeed spiked at the same moment it was suspected the attack had occurred.
“No, this is impossible. There is no way the Iranians would have anything near this capability. This would have to be related to the alien question everyone is so worried about.”
“Unless the Iranians have found the one thing the United Nations is searching the world for.”
“You forget, Uncle, I have been out of the military loop for a few months. You have to enlighten me.”
“Oh, yes, maybe I should have had your Captain Everett explain this part to you. The Americans and British are obsessed with finding an operating alien power plant for something they have dubbed Operation Overlord.”
“And why would Carl know anything about this?” Anya handed the printout back to Shamni.
He placed the paper back in with the highly classified photo.
“Because, my dear niece, your Mr. Everett was just assigned to the project, whatever it is.”
Anya stood so suddenly that it startled the general.
“And that is the real reason you brought me back to Mossad. So I can get the secret information about this Operation Overlord out of Carl once he learns about it!”
“Yes.” He looked away in real shame at his actions. “Also for the fact that we need the Americans and their allies to strike the killing blow in Iran and not us.”
“You’re willing to bet other lives on a strike but not our own?”
“Yes, only because we believe the Iranians have the alien technology. The Iranians are using the mass confusion around them over this alien event so they can strike without anyone getting the wiser on them. But we have.”
“You are the biggest son of a bitch I have ever known, Uncle. Tell the Americans, the British, and the Russians what you suspect, let them decide their own fates. We don’t have that right.”
The general looked out at the growing dark skies that signaled the oncoming night.
“If we don’t act soon our right to exist may be at an end.”
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX
NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
Jack Collins had shaved and changed into his blue jumpsuit. It was the first time he had been dressed for duty since Director Compton took him off the field evaluation teams and anything that took him off base. The separation of Captain Everett and himself was due to the finding of the captain’s wristwatch with Collins’s blood—a timepiece that had been buried over 200,000 years ago. The situation had been especially hard on Jack, who needed to be off base to find the killer of his sister, and that just wasn’t happening. He was even having a hard time facing his mother because he could see the question in her sad eyes: had there had been any break in her daughter’s case? There hadn’t. D.C.’s Metropolitan Police Department and the Virginia state police had yet to come up with any leads. Jack knew they wouldn’t find any because Lynn had been killed by one of her coworkers at the CIA.
A light knock sounded at the door and Jack turned to open it. Will Mendenhall stuck his head inside and immediately noticed the colonel’s private quarters had been cleaned and the colonel himself was looking like a colonel again.
“Colonel, the director has arrived and Gus and Matchstick are in the conference room.”
“Got it.” Jack smiled for the first time since the murder of Lynn. He took Will Mendenhall in. “Did the director come down on you for letting me out of my cage?”
Mendenhall looked behind him into
the long and curving corridor to make sure there were no ears flapping about.
“Yes, sir, I’ve only got about half my ass at the moment,” he said as he jokingly reached behind himself and hissed.
“Well, that won’t be the last ass chewing you get.” He smiled even wider. “Especially when you have people like you, Ryan, and Mr. Ever…” Jack’s words trailed away at the mention of Captain Everett’s name. Collins just nodded and Will saw the face of a man who had lost a good friend.
“Nah, when I’m in charge, I’ll just recruit better people.” Will’s smile didn’t quite make it as he tried to keep the conversation light.
“The smart move would be not to be in charge at all and refuse all promotions.” Collins gestured for his lieutenant to lead the way.
* * *
The Event Group supervisory staff had gathered. The sixteen department heads were represented with the only absentee being the current head of the geology department: Army 1st Lieutenant Sarah McIntire, who was off in the Middle Eastern desert looking for something they all thought wasn’t there. Jack looked at the chair occupied by her second-in-command, Sam Parker, a geologist from the University of Texas. Mendenhall, who was still the acting security chief while Jack was being protected, sat beside Collins. Will knew Jack was used to seeing Everett in this particular chair.
Director Compton cleared his throat as the semiretired Alice Hamilton, whom Niles had called in for the briefing, came through the double doors. She jumped when Matchstick—who had been standing next to Gus Tilly—ran over and wrapped his long, thin arms around her thighs. He hugged her just as he had done with the security team when they had arrived at Chato’s Crawl earlier that morning. It was now seven at night and the little guy was still buzzing about the things he suspected were happening.
“Well, hello to you too, Matchstick.” Alice tossed her writing tablet and files on the conference table, then picked the alien up to smile at his large eyes.
Overlord Page 11
