by Tom Haase
“Okay, I’ll see the man later today to find out about the delivery. Will call you then.” Al-Hanbali closed the phone and strolled over to the window to stare out.
* * *
4:15 P.M. – INSIDE THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL, BEIRUT
ROOM 106 – KEMAL HASSAN’S ROOM
The three Iranians entered the hotel room, dropped their small bags onto the bed, and proceeded to search the room. They looked behind the pictures on the wall, checked the television set for any hidden cameras and scanned the area of the street they could observe. Kemal opened the door to the small balcony. Stepping out, he could hear the sound of the Mediterranean Sea splashing on the shore and smell the salt in the air. Quite different from downtown Tehran, he mused.
His bodyguard picked up the telephone and ordered tea. They sat down and waited for it to arrive.
"It was a long drive. We are here now, and we must prepare ourselves for the meeting with the other two. I know Faisal, but not Tewfik al-Hanbali. Fatimah ordered us to assist in this operation, and we have completed our part," Kemal said.
"Then why are we here?" asked Rasjani, his second-in-command.
"I think it is strictly because Fatimah wanted us to attend this meeting, and to keep an eye on Faisal. You know that I don’t trust him, being Hezbollah and all."
A knock at the door caused the bodyguard to draw his weapon. Kemal went over, looked out of the peephole, and held up his hand, gesturing for him to put the weapon away. "It's only the tea."
"I’ll be glad to get out of here and get back to Tehran," said the guard. "These Hezbollah live too rich a lifestyle and have too many weapons to play with.”
“As you know, even our president does not trust them. As soon as we confirm to al-Hanbali that his material will be delivered and the time, we have completed our part of this operation, and we'll immediately return home," Kemal said.
"Why couldn't we have just told them this over the telephone?" Rasjani asked.
"Because this is supposed to be a joint effort, and our presence is required. Now we'll just have to wait. I’ll make contact with the others in a little while. Let’s have our tea and then, Rafi, you go on guard outside the door. Just as a precaution,” Kemal said with a smile.
* * *
7:45 P.M. – INSIDE THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL, BEIRUT
ROOM 107 –FAISAL MALLAH’S ROOM
“Why do we have to stay in this hotel? We live in Beirut,” said Abdel, Faisal’s number two.
“This is part of our participation in this endeavor ordered by Fatimah. We had no choice. Besides, we might get more out of this than we are going to put into it,” Faisal said.
“I noticed they had a guard outside in the hall. Should I get on duty?” Akman said.
“Yes,” Faisal said. “I’ll call the others in a few minutes and suggest we go out to eat. I want to change the meeting time. Not only for security reasons but to show them that we are the ones who’ll be carrying out this operation, whatever it is. We should be in charge and set the pace. They are not people I know, including this al-Hanbali from Saudi Arabia. I don’t trust his type of jihadist. I think they’re all talk and we’re the ones here facing the Israelis,” Faisal said. He threw himself on the bed and bunched up some pillows under his head.
“We—Hezbollah—pounded the hell out of the Zionists with rockets before the cease-fire. Not like those sitting on their asses in Saudi,” he continued.
“They didn’t even provide us weapons like the Syrians and the Iranians,” Abdel said. “We can do it again when the time is right and we have the martyrs ready.” He continued with, “We know the requirement is to provide two of our men to deliver a suicide bomb. Do we know anything else?”
“No,” Faisal confirmed. “There has to be something significant in all this to get Fatimah to order this cooperation among the groups. I think it is bigger than we have been led to believe. If it were just a normal suicide bomber, we already have the equipment and the know-how.” He got up off the bed and went to look out of the window. The sun settled lower on the western horizon as he viewed the city skyline.
“So, I want to get my hands on it. Whatever it is, we’ll go along with our part until we find out what the real target is. If it is not Israel, I’ll have to decide what to do,” Faisal added, then turned and went over to the telephone and called the rooms of the other two leaders. He asked them to join him in five minutes in the lobby to get some food and to hold the meeting now. He intended to find out what target Fatimah had sanctioned.
* * *
STRIKE TEAM ONE
7:46 PM – OUTSIDE THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL
All the leaders and their escorts were in their hotel rooms. From inside the van the team had the ability to monitor the conversations going on among the various members in the three separate rooms. Existing photos, none of great clarity, provided some assistance in identifying the three principal terrorists. While listening to the conversations in the hotel rooms, and picking up bits and pieces of conversations, Lucien was able to determine that the three groups did not totally trust one another. They had embarked upon this as a joint effort as directed by Fatimah, knowing that no one by themselves could pull this off. From the monitored conversations, it appeared Tewfik al-Hanbali was the one who knew the entire plan.
“Hey, Captain, who the hell is Fatimah? Have we heard of them before? Maybe she is a sexy broad,” Lucien smiled as he said this.
“No idea. New name to me. Let’s get it to the center and see what they think. Whoever he, she, or it is, it has some power to order these guys around. Go ahead and send what we have.” Matt recalled that General Bergermeyer had said something about an overall terrorists control organization she believed existed. Perhaps Fatimah had something to do with that. This information might fit into the picture she had constructed. Now Matt decided to become proactive. He spoke into his communication gear to Bridget.
“Go down and do a reconnaissance on the first floor. We are set up here and ready. It’s time to see what we’re up against.”
* * *
7:48 P.M. – INSIDE THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL, BEIRUT
Bridget knew what she must now do. She had expected to do a recce of the first floor and had changed from the conservative dress of her arrival into a revealing black top, which included a low V-cut with a red scarf around her neck, tight black leather pants and black high heels. Anyone seeing her in this outfit, in an expensive hotel, would likely conclude that she operated as a high-class call girl. Beirut still offered this type of entertainment even though it remained unavailable so openly in any Islamic country.
She took the elevator down to the first floor. When the doors opened, she walked out of the elevator looking into her purse, pretending she was trying to get out the key as she stepped off the elevator and started walking toward the far end of the hall. Then she stopped.
“Where did I put that damn key?” Bridget asked in English, while continuing to fumble in her purse.
“Lady, you're on the wrong floor,” said a tough looking young man, sporting a full beard and weighing close to two hundred twenty pounds. “You must leave.” He spoke in halting English.
“I think I'm on the right floor for the room I am seeking. This is the second floor and I can't find the key,” Bridget said.
By this time, she did a quick scan of the men on this floor and saw that each one of the three separate doors had one person on the outside guarding the entrance. She decided the other terrorists must be inside with their leaders. She took a few more steps down the hall in order to register all the details that might influence their operation, still looking bewildered by the numbers on the doors, and then Bridget started back towards the elevator.
The nearest guard started to approach as she turned to head for the elevator. He had a gruesome face; when he opened his mouth, black stained teeth showed prominently on his face. “Who are you?” he barked. “We don’t need a hooker here.”
Shutting her pur
se, she flipped her head back and looked at the nearest man. “One step closer” she thought, “and I’ll …” Turning toward the elevator door to make her escape she said, “I’ve made a mistake. I’m on the wrong floor. I see it now. I need to be on the second floor,” she said, trying to see what types of weapons they had. Moving with quick steps to the elevator that had just opened, she saw the entrance doors of two other rooms open and heads stick out to see what was going on in the hall. Bridget thought these must be the other bodyguards. She got a good look at them.
When she arrived back in her room, she reported to Matt over the secure communication link what she had seen.
“What do you think about their numbers?” Matt asked.
“From what I could observe there are at least six I actually saw. You have a view of them from out there. Where do you put the total?”
“It looks like a total of nine.”
“Okay, so we have nine with three in each group, two of whom are security or just members of the cells,” Bridget said.
“From our vantage point, we have clean shots at two of the rooms,” Matt said into his miniature microphone, thinking as he went along. “The one a floor beneath you and the one other we can see into. One we can’t see inside the room for any type of shot. I'm going to send Peter over to you now, so you two can go down the steps and open a stairwell door on my command. We will move into position to take out the ones in the rooms we can observe. The primary directive is what we are going for now. You will take out the door guards from there. You have to take out those three as soon as you can enter the first floor. Use the silencers.”
“Captain,” said Bridget, “I think that we should come in from each end of the hallway.”
“No,” said Matt, “I don't want you to get you caught in your own crossfire.”
“Captain,” shouted Lucien, “I'm listening to the telephone calls, and they are agreeing to go out to eat dinner in five minutes.”
“Damn,” said Matt. “Okay, guys, we’ll have to stand down. We can't be ready in time. Bridget, you go downstairs and see if you can monitor their movements. Peter, you get over there to join Bridget. Try to get into a position to hear what they say. Lucien, focus the array on the hotel restaurant. Maybe we can pick up something. It appears they’ve moved up their schedule for the meeting.”
Matt felt stupid because he had not acted fast enough to get his team into position. He knew he had to be ahead of these terrorists and to anticipate them better. He should have known they would change their plans, if not out of necessity, at least out of good security precautions. They had moved the meeting up a day. This time, he now played catch-up, he needed to get his team into position as quick as possible to take advantage of any new opportunity that might materialize. The mission was, after all, to terminate these terrorist leaders.
Peter went to the hotel and joined Bridget, who had changed back into more conservative dress, when she left the elevator and stepped into the hotel lobby. They took seats near a window. They had a clear view of the entrance to the in-house restaurant and could cover the exit door from where they sat. If the terrorists went into the hotel restaurant, Bridget and Peter would attempt to sit close to them during their meal.
The terrorists got off the elevator, but instead of going to the restaurant in the hotel as the team anticipated, the three terrorist groups went out of the front door and started walking down the street.
13
Strike Team One’s Van
8:34 P.M. - BEIRUT
"Well Captain what do we do now?" Peter asked over his communication earpiece.
"Bridget, you and Peter follow them on foot. We’ll get the van moving and follow behind."
“Bridget, you armed?” Matt asked.
“Of course,” came a terse reply. “I can see that Peter is too.”
“Good,” Matt muttered. A stupid question, he realized.
The three groups started walking east from the hotel towards the Parliament building. There were many people out for a pre-dinner walk and the terrorists mingled among them. With the terrorists being such a large group, it was easy for ST-1 to keep them in sight yet remain unobserved. The white van lumbered along, following at a safe distance. They were entering an area just off the waterfront where many small restaurants provided a mom-and-pop type venue. The team on foot maintained communication silence as they continued in their surveillance mode.
Gary drove the van. Inside, Lucien monitored the communication band.
"Hey, Captain, have you been to Beirut before?" he asked.
"Yes, I've been here before,” Matt responded while looking through the windshield to maintain visual contact with the targets.
"What do you think of it, sir?"
“I liked it. Beirut is a cosmopolitan city with a mixture of Arab influence and some European-styled building. It is also a city suffering from poverty as a real legacy of the civil war and the 2006 Hezbollah—Israeli confrontation. The city's layout, with residential and commercial areas, is haphazard. You can see slums right next to modern high-rise buildings. We are now in West Beirut. Here all of the nice institutions, foreign embassies and the American University are located. I’m currently taking a class in Syrian-Lebanon history for my doctorate.”
“I thought that religion was the stuff which caused the fighting,” injected Lucien.
"Not entirely.” Matt interrupted his thought by scanning the area outside to ensure the team on foot was following the group and that he remained in position to observe from inside the van. Then he continued. “The city remains divided along ethnic and religious lines. Lebanese Christians live mostly in North Beirut. Lebanese Sunni Muslims live in West Beirut. Lebanese Shia Muslims and Palestinians, who are mostly Muslims, live predominantly in the southern areas of the city. I think there is still a lot of military activity in that area.”
Outside, the group of men they followed slowed down and gathered in a huddle. In less than a minute, they again split up but proceeded in the same general direction. Reaching the next corner they turned right into a small street. Matt observed this and continued talking with Lucien.
"After the last round of warfare, the Lebanese government launched a great campaign to reconstruct and revitalize Beirut's city center. You can start to see the results of that where we are now. Years ago, the city used to be the Riviera of the Middle East. Now, it is getting back on its feet after Hezbollah has been contained. They have reopened the international airport and it has good connections to almost anywhere."
“Do you think these people will ever get it together again?”
“I hope so, but don’t know. They seem to want to, but there are many forces that could influence the end result.”
Over the radio, Matt heard Peter report, “The group has gone around the corner and down a small street. There appears to be a small private restaurant, like at the end of the street. You can’t bring the van in here, since there is no throughway. The restaurant blocks the street. There’re tables outside and they have taken them,” Peter said.
"Okay, let's get this van into a position where we can, at least, hear what they're saying," ordered Matt. “Gary, take the next left. Park on the right side of the street.” This move would allow them to deploy the antennas for voice reception and video through the one-way windows in the back of the van.
Gary took the left turn at the street where their targets had turned right. He pulled to the curb in fifty feet and left the engine running. The van remained a short block away from the restaurant, but they had a good view of the outside tables through the rear window of the vehicle. From that position, Lucien configured and moved the parabolic antenna to allow them to listen to any conversation by the terrorists.
Within seconds, he had the antenna adjusted and the equipment recording dialogue and video from the restaurant tables. The first person to speak happened to be al-Hanbali. Lucien recognized his voice from having heard the NSA intercept of the call to the hotel.
"Let
's have all of our men spread out and walk around to ensure our security while we discuss the plans," al-Hanbali suggested. There was a nod of agreement from the other leaders. Five accomplices started to move around the area by walking on both sides of the street.
Al-Hanbali’s man went inside the restaurant to provide protection from their rear. While they were getting seated, the security men spread out to ensure the area remained clear of anyone who might inadvertently turn the corner, located about one hundred feet from the tables where the leaders sat. After the guards left, the conversation at the table resumed.
Al-Hanbali said, “We can talk here in safety. No one could know where we were going, as Faisal just picked this restaurant at random. But let me say, I am glad you both were able to come.”
“Okay, Tewfik, what is the entire plan,” injected Faisal Mallah, the Palestinian, a leader in Hezbollah. “We only know what you tempted us with and the assignment Fatimah gave us. So Fatimah must think this is important to order us to assist in this venture. I can guess, but I want details,”
As this conversation was recorded and monitored in the van, Matt ordered Bridget and Peter to continue to walk the area on foot, but not to approach the van.
Tewfik continued his interrupted conversation. "Okay, I’ll lay out the entire plan. As you know, we are each trying to provide a certain asset or contribution in order for this plan to come to fruition. I traveled to Moscow last week to engage the service of an old schoolmate of mine to assist us in putting the project together. He can be trusted and is being well paid.” Al-Hanbali looked at the other two. “My part in this operation was to get a nuclear physicist who could put together an atomic bomb.”
