by Ted Halstead
Finally, Arash appeared to notice Bijan’s impatience was moving quickly to anger.
“I am pleased to report that we have finally been contacted by someone who says he has information that can help you. I paid the small sum of about ten thousand US dollars in cryptocurrency for the first part of his information, and you see the results of that here before you. For full details of how to defeat the sensors, he wants one million US dollars. I am not authorized to pay such a large amount, so I thought you should see what we have so far in detail.”
Bijan took a deep breath and nodded.
"Very well. You have acted correctly. So, what am I looking at here?”
Bijan asked.
Arash pointed at the exposed section of cable. “This is a fiber optic cable, of the precise type the man says is used to carry sensor data from the Saudi land border to their military headquarters in Riyadh. For ten thousand dollars he also gave us instructions on how to tap into the cable, and tamper with the data being transmitted. In short, he recommends recording data being sent through the cable over the time period needed, and then repeating it.”
Bijan grunted. “And you have confirmed that the instructions work?”
Arash nodded. “Just as he said. I could easily train any of your military communications technicians to do the work.”
Bijan frowned. “So, why am I going to pay another one million dollars?”
Arash shrugged. “For the precise GPS coordinates of the buried cable. He claims to have been one of the contractors who did the installation.”
Bijan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “This could be just a clever story, with nothing waiting for us at the GPS coordinates but sand.”
Arash nodded. “I said exactly that in our last exchange. He said he is willing to take half now, and the other half after we confirm the GPS coordinates. However, he recommends against that approach.”
Bijan smiled. “I’m sure he does. Why?”
Arash shrugged again. “Well, he says that if you dig up the cable once to confirm its location and then again when you really need to, your chances of discovery go way up.”
Bijan laughed. “Maybe so, but why not get the coordinates, use them when we need to and then never pay him the rest?”
Now Arash looked uncomfortable. “Because he says for the full million dollars up front he has some helpful tips on avoiding detection when we tap into the cable. He also says there is a wireless backup data transfer system, and he’ll include information on it as well. But only if we pay the million up front.”
Bijan scowled. “This man seems to have an answer for everything. So, how long does it take him to respond when you contact him?”
Arash smiled. “Very quickly. I think he is looking forward to getting his money.”
Bijan nodded. “I’m sure he is. Have our hackers been able to trace his location?”
Arash shook his head. “Not at all. When the first hacker was unable to do so I went to his supervisor, who failed as well. Finally, I had the head of the cybersecurity department try, who was also unsuccessful. He told me that if the man knows as much about communications as he does about maintaining his anonymity, our payment will not be wasted.”
Bijan grunted. “Very well. If it is everything promised, it will indeed be money well spent.”
Bijan then picked up the nearest phone and punched in the numbers for his assistant, quickly giving him the necessary instructions.
“You should have access to one million dollars in cryptocurrency within ten minutes. Once you do, contact the man and tell him we agree to his terms.”
Half an hour later Arash and Bijan had a set of GPS coordinates, and were reading several pages of instructions.
Bijan frowned. “So, he included the transmission frequency for the wireless backup data transfer system, but warns it may have been changed.
He recommends blanket jamming of all frequencies for a radius of several miles around the border crossing point.”
Arash‘s eyebrows rose. “An R-330ZH automated jammer?”
Bijan smiled. “Exactly. I had already planned to allocate one to the commander of this mission anyway. We have several, and they are often useful.”
Arash nodded. “I see that my initial plan to loop a short recording of ambient noise from the sensor collectors would have been a mistake.”
Bijan shrugged. “It was my first thought as well. I have no desire to have our force linger at the border any longer than necessary. However, we can send a team ahead of the main force to carry out the mission. As I understand it, software will alert the Saudis if we loop a short recording. But, if we leave at least a five-minute gap between the recording we collect and the one we switch to, we can get away with using the recording once. That means to give us enough time to get across the border undetected the recording will need to be at least ninety minutes long.”
Arash frowned. “I am no military expert. But will it really take that long? I ask because there are technical issues with making and properly replaying such a long recording. Training someone to go with our force will not be as easy as I thought.”
Bijan nodded. “I hope it won’t take so long to cross. But the first thing you learn in the military is to prepare for the unexpected. There is some good news, though. You won’t have to worry about training anyone.”
Arash frowned even more deeply. “Why not? This really will not be so simple…”
His voice trailed off as he saw Bijan’s smile widening.
Arash‘s voice rose in near panic as it finally dawned on him why he would not need to train another technician.
“I cannot be spared here! I am overseeing numerous projects of the highest priority!”
Bijan’s smile didn’t waver. “I know. But your boss agrees with me that this mission is more important than all the others put together.”
Bijan could see Arash’s thoughts race as he tried to find a way out. Then, to his surprise, Arash turned to a nearby wooden crate and flipped off its lid.
“Well, my beloved boss told me not to show you this, because I think he has his own plans for it. But if I’m going on this adventure, I want us to have every advantage we can get.”
Bijan’s eyebrows rose. What was inside the crate was… cloth. What was so special about it?
As though reading his thoughts, Arash said “You cannot imagine how difficult this was to obtain. The manufacturer calls it the Ultra-Light Camouflage Netting System. The American military uses acronyms for everything, and calls it ULCANS.”
Bijan shrugged. “So, what makes it different than any other camouflage?”
Arash smiled. “The honest answer is that we don’t know. That’s why the company selling this to the American military was able to get a contract for half a billion dollars. What we do know is that it is effective at blocking detection not just in the visible light spectrum, but in all wavelengths used by current military sensors, including radar and thermal.”
Bijan frowned. “So, you mean that radars and thermal imaging won’t detect a vehicle covered with this material, even if it is on the move?”
Now Arash’s smile widened. “Please watch the video that the manufacturer has helpfully uploaded to the Internet.”
When the short video had finished, Bijan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“They talk about customizing the fabric to different environments. I imagine that was not possible for this shipment.”
Arash shook his head. “No. That would require collecting data in the area where the fabric would actually be used. However, as you can see we did make the obvious choice from the manufacturer’s generic terrain selection.”
Bijan grunted. “Yes, desert. I believe you when you say this was hard to get. How much do we have, and can we get more?”
Arash looked uncertain. “I can give you documentation showing the precise quantities and dimensions. But from what I have been told of your plans I cannot say if it will be enough. The material obviously has to be cut to size. You
will have many vehicle types. For application in the field you will want attachment mounts designed to fit the pre-made cuts. There are several different application approaches that we should test to see which can be done most quickly, and give the best coverage.”
Arash paused. “The simple answer to your second question is no. We were able to get a man inside the Americans’ manufacturing facility in Kentucky in their shipping department. After months of learning their systems, he was able to fake documents routing a shipment to the manufacturer’s headquarters.”
Bijan frowned. “And where is that?”
Arash grinned. “Israel.” When he saw Bijan’s reaction, he had to laugh, and after a moment Bijan did too.
Bijan shook his head. “Obviously, we did not steal the shipment from Israel.”
Arash nodded. “Correct. Our agent had the shipment routed through Antwerp, and we were able to intercept it there. Unfortunately, he had to flee after this success, just one step ahead of the authorities. So, there is no way of knowing if or when we may be able to get more of this fabric.”
Bijan shrugged. “Very well. We will make whatever use of it we can. And Arash, don’t worry about your boss. I will speak with him on my way out and remind him — again — that my mission has top priority.”
Arash nodded, but Bijan could see that he was still unhappy.
Bijan clapped him on the shoulder and told him with a grin, “Cheer up!
Thanks to you we have a fighting chance of success. Look at it this way — how many Iranians will ever get to visit Riyadh?”
Chapter Seven
Artillery Group 22 Garrison, Isfahan Province, Iran
Guardian Colonel Bijan Turani had to suppress a smile at the poorly concealed nervousness of the artillery captain standing at attention in front of him. If their positions had been reversed, Bijan had to admit to himself he might have reacted the same way.
“Captain Dabiri, I know you have had little time to prepare for this exercise. That was precisely the point. I want to see how well your unit can perform under pressure. Do you have any questions about your orders?”, Bijan asked.
“No, sir,” the captain responded.
Bijan nodded. “Excellent. I have one change to those orders we need to communicate to your troops before we begin.”
The captain looked even more nervous as he carefully asked, “Sir?”
Bijan smiled. “The obsolete tanks you have rigged as targets for your artillery can be moved remotely, correct?”
Now the captain appeared close to a stroke. “Yes, sir. But as you know, the Basir artillery round requires a laser designator for an accurate strike. We have men in the exercise area targeting the tanks now. If we begin moving the tanks, we risk hitting the men.”
Bijan nodded. “In that case, Captain, I suggest you move the tanks away from your men rather than towards them.”
The captain paused and then wisely swallowed his objections, which Bijan knew would have included the finite range of the laser designators, and simply said, “Yes, sir.”
A few minutes later, the new orders had been transmitted and the captain said, “Ready, sir.”
In spite of himself, Bijan was impressed. It was obvious the unit had practiced using the Basir artillery round on a moving target before. Bijan had been told this was Iran’s best artillery regiment, and now felt his hope rising that its reputation might be justified.
Well, let’s see if they can actually hit the moving targets before we celebrate, Bijan thought.
Aloud, he said, “Proceed, Captain.”
Ten HM-41 155 mm howitzers fired simultaneously at the ten moving tanks. Both the howitzers and the Basir artillery round had been developed and manufactured in Iran. While the HM-41 howitzer had been reverse engineered from the American M114, the Basir was an Iranian product from start to finish, and made Iran one of only five countries in the world with a laser-guided artillery shell.
Bijan and Dabiri were about five kilometers away from the targets, and half a kilometer away from the HM-41 howitzers. They were protected from the noise with earplugs, but they could still feel the vibration of the howitzers’ firing in their bones. Both had binoculars trained on the distant forms of the moving tanks, which very quickly stopped moving as each was hit.
Bijan was surprised to see multiple secondary explosions, and then quickly chided himself. The tanks may not have carried ammunition, but to move they had to contain fuel.
Dabiri rapidly swapped his earplugs for a headset, and called for a report.
Bijan was not so quick to remove his earplugs, and so missed the first part of an exchange between Dabiri and one of the spotters, but knew better than to interrupt before he was ready. Bijan had been in Dabiri’s position before, and had always detested officers who interrupted his efforts to get the information needed to report by demanding answers before he could possibly have them.
After a few minutes Bijan could tell from the newly relaxed slump of Dabiri’s shoulders that the news was, if not good, at least not disastrous.
Dabiri drew himself up and saluted. “Ready to report, sir.”
Bijan’s eyebrows rose. Was the news really that good?
“All targets destroyed. One spotter was lightly injured by shrapnel, but will not require hospitalization.”
Bijan smiled. “Excellent, Captain. Shall we have a look?”
Both climbed into the nearby Safir 4x4 transport vehicle. Externally a close visual match to the WWII American Jeep it was Iranian made, except for a 105 horsepower Nissan engine which gave it nearly twice as much power as the original Jeep. It came in multiple configurations, including ones mounting everything from twelve 107 mm rocket tubes to anti-tank missiles. This one was outfitted as a command vehicle, with nothing onboard more lethal than multiple radios.
They pulled up first next to another Safir with a Red Crescent insignia marking it as used for medical transport, where they saw a medic packing up next to a bandaged noncommissioned officer. As soon as the soldier saw them he began to stand, but Dabiri quickly waved him back down.
“Report,” Dabiri said calmly.
The NCO looked at Bijan’s rank insignia and his eyes widened, but to Bijan’s approval made no comment.
Instead, the NCO said, “My laser designator worked with no issues. Even though the target was moving, I had no trouble keeping it illuminated. I admit that I moved a little closer when I realized the target was moving away from me to avoid losing contact.”
The NCO paused and looked at his bandages. “I didn’t anticipate the force of the secondary explosion. In my only previous exercise with these rounds the targets were stationary, and hadn’t been fueled. Not an excuse, sir. Glad I’m alive to have learned the lesson.”
Dabiri smiled. “That’s the right attitude, soldier. I’m told your injuries aren’t serious, and you don’t need time in hospital. Do you agree?”
The NCO nodded. “It was just a few stitches and some scrapes. I’ve done worse as a child falling off a bicycle. If I hadn’t been hugging the ground it could have been more serious. I could feel things passing right over my head.
If there had been ammo in that tank I don’t think I’d be here talking to you.”
Bijan glanced at Dabiri, who nodded. It was just a courtesy, but Bijan knew from his own experience it mattered.
Bijan asked, “Do you think you were the only one to move closer when you saw the targets were moving?”
The NCO hesitated. “As far as I saw, yes. I have to be honest, though, and say my attention was focused on the target in front of me.”
Bijan nodded and turned towards Dabiri. “Let’s take a closer look at what’s left of your targets.”
At that the NCO looked visibly uncomfortable, and looked up at Dabiri.
“Yes, soldier?” Dabiri asked quietly.
“Well, Captain,” the NCO replied, “I would keep a respectful distance as you travel around the exercise area. I think some of these targets are still cooking, and I w
ouldn’t want to be around when they’re ready to serve.”
Now both Bijan and Dabiri laughed. Bijan said, “Well said. I think we can chalk this up as a lesson well and truly learned.”
As they drove around the smoking hulks of the destroyed targets, Bijan silently counted to himself until reaching ten, and nodded with satisfaction.
He doubted Dabiri would have tried to claim unearned kills, but he had seen it happen before in exercises.
Both of them started involuntarily as one of the targets erupted in a new explosion, fortunately on the other side of the exercise area.
Bijan grunted. “Your soldier was right. Apparently it takes time for fire to reach the gas tank in some of your targets. Squinting he asked, “Are these all T-54s, or are some T-55s?”.
Dabiri smiled. “Good eye, Colonel, particularly considering the damage the targets have taken. Seven T-54s, and three T-55s. It took some work to get these mobile again.”
Bijan snorted in amusement. He didn’t doubt it considering the age of the tanks, which he guessed at over fifty years old.
“Obviously we’re not going to use our best tanks for target practice. Based on the damage you see here, do you think the Basir will kill more modern tanks?”
Dabiri nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, sir. Top armor is the weak point of every tank, new or old. No tank ever built is going to survive a 155 mm round dropped on top of it. The only question is whether we can deliver that round on target. Frankly, I’m not sure how easy it will be to shine a laser designator on a tank without being spotted.”
Bijan nodded, but said nothing. There was one place he could imagine that being possible, but Dabiri had no need to know that. Yet.
Dabiri continued, “If the spotters have the chance to dig in I think it would help their survival chances, but unless they’re good with camouflage it could make their detection more likely. If we can get laser designators with a longer range I think that would help too.”
Bijan smiled. “Excellent points, Captain. Please be sure to include them in your report.”
Finally, the Safir pulled back up at Dabiri’s mobile command post, and they sat back on either side of the folding table where Dabiri would draft his preliminary report.
