by Jim Wilson
They shook hands, and his friend replied, “It is too bad that we must kidnap Atwen. He was a good friend. Life must go on, and you are very generous.”
It took the friend three days to recruit and equip his army. The attack would be in two parts. All of his men would wear black hoods. Half of his men would kill everyone in the mosque. The other half of his army would go to the manufacturing facility and kill everyone in that building. Ivan and his friend then went to the hotel to tell the Iranians their plan. They saw George in the lobby, he called Bill’s room, and Bill invited the two men up for a conversation. Then Bill knocked on the connecting door to Sam’s room, and they talked as they waited for the visitors.
“If the plan looks good,” Sam said, “we transfer the funds to Ivan’s friend.”
Bill answered, “If not, we kill them, buy a van, pick up Atwen from the coffee shop, and head back to our pick up point.”
There was a knock on the door, and they had checked their Glock 23s. Both carried a chambered round, and were in plain view in holsters on their right hips. Bill opened the door. Ivan introduced his Hezbollah friend and Sam brought two additional chairs from his room.
Ivan then said, “I have good news.”
His friend went over his plan with the men he thought were Iranians. His friend was emboldened by the positive expressions on the faces of the Sam and Bill. “This is my account information for the ten million Euros transfer.” The friend handed Sam a small piece of paper.
“The money will transfer today and will be in your account in two days. We will also need a van to pick up Atwen. After we have him, you can start your operation, and we will drive the van to our pick up point twenty-five miles south of here. There, a helicopter will meet us.” Sam then addressed Ivan’s friend. “If you want, you can join us. We can have French passports made for both of you. The helicopter will take us to an airfield and we can all fly together to Paris. From there you will be on your own.”
Ivan said, “I will find a van today.”
Ivan’s friend then added an untrue request. “I will need a few million to pay for the operation. It will also take me a few days to put everything together.”
Sam answered, “The funds should be available to you in two days. Will you be ready in three days?”
“That should be acceptable.” When the meeting was over, they were like old friends after a wonderful dinner. The attack would take place the day after the funds appeared in the friend’s account. Then they would meet again before the attack to help pick up Atwen. During the attack, they would all drive to meet the helicopter, and join Sam and Bill for their trip to what Ivan and his friend thought was France.
Two days later, the friend saw the funds appear in his account, and made calls to his leaders and Ivan. The friend had already paid fifty thousand Euros to each of his leaders to purchase new weapons and pay their solders. Ivan bought a dependable and very plain dark blue Ford van. It had a second row of seats and a nice sized cargo area behind the seats. Sliding doors on both sides gave access to the rear seats and the cargo area. The friend had arranged for his soldiers to wait for a cell phone call as a signal to start their attack. Sam and Bill checked out of the hotel, used Bill’s credit for extra charges, and waited on the street. Ivan and his friend picked them up in the van. A few minutes later, they parked near the coffee shop, and waited for Atwen to arrive.
After an hour wait Atwen walked into the coffee shop and sat at an outside table that was near the street. Ivan pulled the van directly in front of the coffee shop. Bill slid open the curbside door and the friend made his call to start their small war. Bill walked to Atwen’s table, and sat across from him. Sam followed and took a position directly behind Atwen. With the dart gun under the table, Bill fired at Atwen’s right thigh. The reaction would affect him within fifteen seconds. Until then, he was dangerous. Atwen stood as he reacted to the pain of the dart. Sam reached around him, Atwen mumbled a few words, and wilted in Sam’s arms. Bill placed several Lebanese 10,000 Pound notes on the table and joined Sam. They carried Atwen to the van and laid him in the cargo area.
From the back seat Bill patted Ivan on the shoulder, “Let’s go.”
Sam pulled out his GPS unit and gave Ivan a few driving instructions, and they were off to the pickup site. Sam placed a cell phone call to the CIA agent. The agent answered in Farsi, “Yes.”
Both the agent and Sam knew basic Navajo, an American Indian language. In a short conversation in Navajo, Sam gave their estimated time of arrival. The helicopter would need to carry the weight of five passengers, one thousand three hundred pounds. The risk of a daytime landing was very high and the CIA agent told them to go to the location and wait for dark.
*****
It took ten cars to transport the twenty-six men to the site. Ivan’s friend hired two leaders. The first thought of himself as fighter for Hezbollah. He was a part of the group known as The Army of God. All of them had been fighting wars of some sort all their lives. They learned to fight and kill from their fathers, if they were lucky enough to have one. They filled their lives with the memories of dead friends, and their required acts of revenge that followed the deaths. On a few occasions, Israeli soldiers with their planes, tanks and real bombs interrupted their amateur wars. They all hated the Jews who would come to Jazzin and win a battle. The leader knew that victory was also his. Despite all of the battles, he was still alive. Now he would lead his half of the troops to victory. The Hezbollah man said that many of the clerics, martyrs, and the mullahs in the mosque were traitors to Allah. The man paid him five thousand Euros and he paid each of his men two thousand Euros. All of them felt well paid.
Each man carried a new Uzi submachine gun with five extra clips. They would enter the mosque and do God’s work. When they finished they would return to their cars and disband. All had spent their lives in the mosque and they knew every inch of it, including its secret hiding places. It was about 8pm local time and the sun was bright. When the attack was finished no one in the mosque would be alive. They all put in earplugs under their black hoods, yelled various prayers, and entered the front door of the mosque. It took them fifteen minutes to finish. They did no damage to the mosque except for a few new blood stains. If the Hezbollah man asked the leader, the body count was twenty-six. They exited the mosque as planned, returned to their cars and went home. They each kept their Uzi, which was also a great prize.
Three blocks away, the second leader and his twelve men approached the bomb manufacturing site, designed to build improvised explosive devices. They also built a few explosive suicide vests. The most effective bombs they made were the old trucks filled with high explosives and scrap metal. Each truck matched with a remote trigger device. In this part of Lebanon, it was not possible to recruit martyrs for self-destruction. They made the vests to sell to the charities and delivered them to areas where life was much harder and paradise was a more pleasant alternative. This leader was also an experienced and respected member of The Army of God.
He and his men would put down a revolt of traitors. Many they were about to kill were possibly Jewish infiltrators. They carried new Uzi submachine guns and wore the black hoods that the Army of God normally wore. They would enter the building and kill the good and the bad. It was possible that the owners of the site would even hire some of these men to take the place of the traitors. With a signal from the leader, all of them put in their earplugs. With a loud, “Allah Akbar” they entered the facility and killed fifteen traitors. They were careful not to damage the workstations or machines and the explosive devices all remained in good working order. Hezbollah would be happy with the results, but like all their jobs, they would never admit any knowledge. They would die before they talked about it.
*****
Ivan followed the driving instructions of Sam. He could tell Ivan the direction to the helicopter, but not who was flying the craft. The road changed to dirt as soon as they left Jazzin and the twenty miles were marked by several areas w
here the field beside the road was a better path. Bill thought of his grandfather who was born somewhere in Lebanon and told himself to remember to ask him where he had grown up. Then Bill regained control of his brain and reevaluated his dangerous surroundings. No more daydreams. He looked back at Atwen, forward at the driver and passenger and checked the position of his Glock 23 on his hip. He calculated the arrival time at their stopping point would require them to wait at least an hour for the helicopter.
He tapped on Ivan’s shoulder, “Slow down, we are less of a target going slow.”
The agent was having trouble getting a large enough helicopter. The only big helicopter available was an Israeli CH-53 and it was a very large and well-armed. The aircrew painted over Israeli markings with dull black paint. The helicopter picked up the CIA agent, and waited for an hour to time their arrival at the Lebanon site at sunset. If their unwilling passengers recognized the craft there could be trouble, but the agent hoped that darkness would dull their skills of helicopter recognition.
The CIA agent would carry an Uzi pistol and wear body armor under a light windbreaker. He thought. Did the Mossad plan work? Except for the two fund transfers, I had no news. Sam and Bill were somewhere in a blue Ford van, and had eight hundred extra pounds of cargo.
Sam was watching his GPS, “In about five hundred feet make a left turn.”
Ivan turned off the main road onto a dusty farm road.
“Our waiting point is down this road two miles.”
Ivan completed the last two miles to their meeting point. They arrived forty five minutes before sunset and Ivan pulled the van off the road and parked under the limited coverage of a small group of trees. The farm road was straight and narrow and they watched the main road for dust.
Sam scanned in all directions, “There is dust near the horizon in the other direction. Most likely, it is only a farmer.”
Ivan, his friend, and Atwen were carrying nice Smith and Wesson automatics with an eight round clips. Sam and Bill each had two extra thirteen round clips for their Glock 23s. With one in the chamber, it gave them forty shots each and they had taken Atwen’s pistol with eight rounds.
Ivan saw it first, “There is heavy dust from the direction of the main road.”
They all exited the van and took cover in the trees, but they left Atwen, who was still unconscious in the van. There was only the van and the trees between the four of them and the road. In this part of Lebanon, anyone you did not know was a target. They could plainly see the trucks coming from the main road. They were common Hezbollah vehicles, large white four door pickups. The sun was low in the sky and three trucks stopped in the road beside them. The bed of the first truck held three men and a fixed fifty-caliber machine gun. The two back trucks each had five armed men sitting in their long beds.
Sam and Bill watched as the men in the bed of the first truck talked. A front seat passenger opened his door and gave instructions to the men in the bed of the truck. The passenger then walked around the truck to give himself shelter from possible return fire. The noise from the fifty-caliber was deafening and within seconds the van had no windows or tires. If Atwen was still alive, he was a very lucky man. Ivan’s friend recognized the voices of some of the men in the second truck. “My friends, these are friends, you Iranians are my friends. We are all friends.”
Still behind cover, he yelled three names of men in the second truck. One of the Hezbollah recognized his voice and called back. The friend showed himself. The gunner in the first truck, wearing ear protection cut him down with a burst of fifty caliber rounds.
The men in the second truck jumped from their position and told the gunner, “These may be friends!”
From the other direction down the road, the dust cloud became more intense. What they thought was a farmer’s truck was a large dark helicopter. It had been traveling very slowly, and near the ground. There was still a little light and the gunner from the first truck aimed his machine gun at the helicopter. The pilot had been watching the trucks. He had preset them as possible targets. As the barrel of the machine gun moved towards the helicopter, the pilot fired a rocket.
The rocket closed on the truck faster than a bullet. The truck went high into the air and returned to the ground as a burning mass. The helicopter copilot pressed a trigger and released several hundred rounds from his machine gun at the two remaining trucks. The Hezbollah had taken knives to a gunfight and they paid the price. The large helicopter turned, pointed its nose at the van and landed.
Atwen and the friend were dead, and Sam, Bill, and Ivan were glad to be alive. The helicopter’s nose was facing the three of them. There was a small chance this could be the wrong van. Ivan was impressed with the size and power of the craft and had no idea who owned it. The three of them sheepishly showed themselves. A voice from a loud speaker on the helicopter gave instructions in Lebanese.
“Come out with your hands up.” They complied.
“Drop your weapons.” Again, they complied.
“Come on board.”
Ivan was the first to board and Bill went back to where they dropped their pistols and picked up the two Glock 23s.
He handed one to Sam. “That was well done.”
As Ivan took his seat, he could plainly see the Israeli Star of David on the pilot’s door. At this point Ivan did not care where he was going. If he had to change sides, it was okay with him.
The helicopter lifted off. From their windows, they could see the remains of their battle. Pieces of the trucks spread over the area. The lead truck was well off the road and upside down. Bodies and spent fifty caliber shells littered the area. Their van smoldered and the friend’s body was unrecognizable. Sam and Bill left Lebanon without firing a shot, but in their tracks, they left considerable death and destruction. Sam thought after reviewing the site below. No one is aware of the war that we are fighting. Sam was wrong.
*****
In Chad, Henry was getting bad news. He received detailed news from Somalia shortly after it happened. His job was running a dangerous business where a small mistake could mean his death and there were too many things happening. He was not waiting, but had asked the Prince for a meeting in Libya. The Prince agreed that they needed to talk and was sending his helicopter for him. Henry felt the Americans were on to them and he knew that the attack on America had been a mistake. The ayatollah had convinced the Prince that Allah wanted the blood of the great Satan spilled. Henry said aloud, “Now the Americans want blood and some of that blood will be mine.”
The helicopter was prepared, and towed to the helipad. It was a short walk from the front door to Henry’s home. It was the most beautiful structure in Chad. The ayatollah purchased the property for Henry. The rich owner and developer of the Uranium mines built the complex on the desolate tract of Sahara Desert. The ayatollah knew that if his fortunes changed, he could live comfortably in Chad or Libya.
Sand stretched for hundreds of miles in all directions, except for brief interlude of Aozou, Chad, one mile behind Henry’s home. A deep oasis sustained the area, and the town developed after the discovery of rich deposits of uranium. Henry liked his security, and did not mind spending the Prince’s money to get the best. Sensitive devices covered the sand for a distance of ten miles in three directions. Powerful radar monitored the entire sky for fifty miles in all directions and a bank of twelve surface-to-air missiles protected the air above his home to fifty thousand feet.
A manned guard station protected a five-mile long private road that led to a single gate into the complex. A white limestone wall, fifteen feet high, and four feet thick surrounded the great house. At the center of the complex was the home. It was a thirty five thousand square foot chateau with underground offices, storage, and protection. A secret tunnel led one mile to a hotel in the small town. Golf carts stationed at both ends of the tunnel allow for a quick trip between the home and town. Inside the wall, almost one hundred small structures housed the families of servants and security personnel. Henry knew
that all this would only give him a few minutes of knowledge that his death by America was near.
Enemies turn to see the light
Faith twisted all asunder
Betrayal lurking out of sight
Leaving all good men to wonder
Chapter 9
It only took a few minutes to reach Dafna. Sam, Bill, and the CIA agent landed in the safety of the compound. The Mossad called the CIA agent, and they prepared for the review of the mission in Jazzin. The CIA agent had been working from Dafna while Sam and Bill were in Lebanon. The Israeli base at Dafna presented a very small footprint, but extended deep into the arid soil.
Hardened surface to air and advanced antimissile weapons protected northern Israel from attacks. Camouflaged silos held a complement of ballistic missiles. The men that serviced them used the name ‘Dooms Day’ for the weapon system. They represented the power of a US Navy Ohio class submarine. Launch crews understood that the ominous term of ‘Dooms Day’ referred to an aggressive enemy’s future. The sharing of the base with Americans, revealed the serious concern Israel had with Lebanon becoming a headquarters for terrorists.
Ivan was thinking about his words, and to whom he would say them. The ground crew towed the helicopter into the hangar. They all deplaned, Israeli military police searched Ivan for weapons, and they entered the complex. They followed MPs down a set of stairs to the area marked ‘transit quarters’. Sam, Bill, and Ivan showered and received military jump suits. The CIA agent marked Sam and Bill’s identification and clothing for destruction, but saved Ivan’s for analysis. The CIA agent led them to a meeting room where the Mossad was waiting for them.
Ivan respected Sam because he was the oldest of the group. Then Ivan Subuap spoke to him. “You’re not from Iran are you?”
Ivan was not surprised when the CIA agent answered with a question, “Why do you ask?”
