by Tom Haase
“What? An atomic bomb! Allah be praised. When? Where?” Faisal said.
“I have accomplished the task of getting the nuclear physicist, and he’s in Saudi Arabia as we speak,” al-Hanbali continued. “Faisal here is to provide us with the people from his organization, who will actually sacrifice themselves to detonate it, when the time comes.” He sat back and waited, tapping his fingers on the table. Then he said, “Kemal is to provide us with the enriched uranium for my man in Saudi Arabia to use." Al-Hanbali paused with a smile on his face.
Kemal waved his hands as he said, "Tewfik, my friend, the uranium is on the way to your compound. It will arrive tomorrow or the next day. The man delivering the goods knows exactly where to take it and who he is to give it to.”
Back in the van, Matt saw that Faisal appeared on the monitor to be overwhelmed by the revelation of an atomic weapon and scooted his chair in closer to say something. He looked back and forth at each of the men sitting at the table, then seemed to compose himself and said, “I have two men who are ready to come to the location you designate. They are dedicated fighters and are willing to offer themselves in this war against both Israel and the evil Satan in the West." He spoke with enthusiasm, but something in his voice gave Matt, who listened to very word, the sense that this man lied or at the very least being disingenuous.
Al-Hanbali continued, "Right now, America is importing thirteen million barrels of petroleum per day. This accounts for sixty-five percent of all their domestic usage of petroleum. Of the sixty-five percent, Canada provides petroleum to America consisting of about one third of the sixty-five percent. However, we can do little against that since the pipelines are so spread out and cross the U.S. border in so many places. Nevertheless, the next biggest provider is my country, which provides over forty-two percent, almost half of the Western consumption. The countries of Nigeria and Venezuela also provide nearly thirty percent.
"For us to be effective, we have to take out the center point in Saudi that provides the oil to the West, and that is the terminal at the port of Ras Tanura. When we do this, we will have our men in position to deliver the ultimatum to Venezuela and Nigeria to terminate all exports to the United States. The warning will be clear. We will do the same to them if they do not comply. They will understand we have the ability to set off a nuclear weapon anywhere we want and they will bend to our demands to cut off America.”
“In Venezuela, I'm not so sure they wouldn't do this just to spite the Americans at this time,” Faisal said.
“Our success with the atomic bomb,” al-Hanbali continued, “would give them a good excuse, and no one can blame them for shutting off the Americans. This would further cut the petroleum imports to America by close to thirty percent. It would cripple them, strangle their industry, and cause worldwide panic as the price of petroleum skyrockets," concluded Tewfik as he paused to sip from the soft drink that the waiter had brought and set on the table. After the man departed back into the restaurant Tewfik added, “I also hope to attack the West in some manner to contaminate its oil supply for years to come. That I’ll handle separate from the planning we are doing here.”
“Will it be a nuclear weapon?” Kemal asked.
“No. I want you to know it is not a nuclear explosion but an atomic one. If my assembly plan should not materialize, at worst we will have a dirty bomb to use.”
Down the street in the van, Lucien turned to Matt. “The bastards are planning to detonate an atomic bomb. Did you hear that? Holy shit.”
Matt gave an affirmative nod. “Upload the tape of that conversation to the Center as fast as you can.” In a second, Lucien saw in his video camera hookup that the terrorist guards on foot were moving closer to where the van had parked as they conducted their sweeps up and down the street. In addition, they were looking in the direction where Bridget and Peter strolled further up the street from the restaurant. Lucien spoke over their secure communications network.
“Captain, I think something is going to happen. The security guys are acting like they know something. Or someone has triggered their alarm.”
On the computer screen, the three terrorists leaders still sat at the table outside the restaurant in huddled conversation, but the guards who had spotted Peter and Bridget were now going to intercept them. Matt had to make a quick decision to either retreat and get out of the area or go after the primary targets. What would happen if the guards intercepted his team members? Would they alert the leaders and they escape? What must he do to prevent their escape? Was it worth the risk to try and take them out now in the middle of the city?
On the other hand, if he now tried to get out of the area, the guards would suspect something and whisk their leaders away. Could he recover his people out on the street in time to escape? Either way, the warning would occur and most likely al-Hanbali and his friends would be out of the country in no time. If he lost them here, could he reacquire them? Matt could not allow failure. He had to act.
He thought by acting now there existed a good chance the element of surprise might just get the team the advantage they needed. No good situation presented itself here and the middle of a city street. Certainly not a good place to attempt a termination operation.
"Okay, everybody. Get ready. On my command, Gary use the sniper weapon and take out as many of the leaders as you can. Bridget, you and Peter get ready to take out the security and then hit the principals. I think maybe they have remembered Bridget from the hotel." Matt checked his weapon and got ready to leap from the van.
He could not wait any longer and the sole option open to him forced this decision. The time had come to take these guys out. He knew he occupied an untenable position on an open road, in the middle of a foreign city, with a team that could not to be associated with the U.S., about to take out some known terrorist leaders. He had failed again to be ahead of the game. The bad guys figured something out and they would either attack or run and scatter, leaving Matt with no way of completing his mission.
A quick check outside revealed the area was clear except for the terrorists at the restaurant and the waiters who were serving them. The security men on the sidewalks drew nearer and forced his hand. They controlled the entrance to this small street and at the far end of this U-shaped alley stood the restaurant. These men sitting at the table had assumed, with good reason, that since no one knew they were there no problem existed in using this place. The layout of the street made it hard to defend and offered little protection for the terrorists.
“They're pulling their guns!” Lucien shouted into the radio.
“Everybody move. Take them down NOW!” exclaimed Matt.
Bridget and Peter had to take on the closest security men with rapid fire from their silenced weapons. Bridget jumped into a doorway while she pulled the weapon from her purse, aimed at the closest man and fired. The man took two rounds to the head. She switched to the next target.
Peter dropped down in a crouch and let loose three quick rounds. Peter put two rounds into the guard running across the street heading for a doorway. The man spun as the rounds entered his side, spinning him and sent him tumbling toward the ground. He hit the pavement and did not move. Then Peter swung his weapon and fired at the table where the leaders sat.
The other bodyguards took a second to realize their situation. They stood in the open, not expecting this type of action in the middle of Beirut. They turned, drew their weapons, and ran for cover.
Gary jumped out of the driver’s seat in the van with his 50-caliber sniper rifle. He saw the three leaders sitting at the restaurant table. He picked one and aimed at his heart. Gary fired. The target moved a little in response to the incoming rounds from Peter’s weapon. The terrorist’s upper torso seemed to explode in his scope, but before he could get a sight picture on another, the other two men at the table ducked into the restaurant. Gary again fired at one of the bodyguards as he entered the restaurant behind the leaders. The bullet hit him in the middle of the back. Gary saw the blood splatter
on the wall beside the target—a kill for sure.
Matt had jumped from the other side of the van. He pulled his 9 mm Beretta, and fired at the nearest terrorist. He hit his target in the leg and fired again as the man started to fall. He looked toward the restaurant and saw that all the leaders were gone. Hearing the sirens and seeing this was no longer a place to be, Matt decided to withdraw. The two remaining bodyguards were running back towards the restaurant. They turned and took positions at the entrance and fired at the attackers, but the pistol rounds were ineffective at that range.
Matt took one last look and realized that it would not be possible for his team to rapidly penetrate into the small restaurant area with at least four, presumably all armed, men defending the door, having good fields of fire down the street and occupying defensable positions.
“Everyone back to the van. Now!”
When all the team members returned to the van, Gary gunned the engine and they headed to the embassy.
Not a complete success, but a partial victory. A major terrorist leader cancelled off the most wanted list as far as they could tell. In addition, according to Lucien, they had acquired a lot of information and good pictures of what the present enemy looked like.
* * *
As they sped away, a man sitting in a car about half a block farther away observed the entire operation. After the ST-1 passed his car, he waited a few seconds. Sirens wailed as the police cars neared, but he realized it would be a few minutes before their arrival.
As the van sped away, two men ran out from the front of the restaurant and went to follow the van. The man sitting in the car did not have to, as he knew where the van was going. He drove the car up to the restaurant, got out, looked at the man lying by the table where the three terrorists leaders had sat. He picked up the body. Everyone had run off. He carried the body to the car and placed it in the back seat. Then he drove off before the police arrived.
14
Tewfik Al-Hanbali – At The Restaurant
8:55 PM – BEIRUT
When Kemal’s upper body exploded, al-Hanbali dove to the ground. Tewfik al-Hanbali felt sure there was no way Kemal survived that shot, so he crawled and scurried through the front door of the restaurant, ran through the building and out the back. Madjid, Al-Hanbali’s second in command, stood inside the restaurant and provided covering fire before running after al-Hanbali and catching up with him outside. They saw a taxi at the end of the alley. They sprinted hard enough to get there before it moved away and directed the driver to take them to the airport, feeling lucky to have gotten away from the murderous fire. Right now, the first thing to do — get out of Beirut. They would then try to determine who had been shooting at them. They had no resources here and no way to bring any to bear at the present time.
They managed to get a flight to Riyadh. Tewfik noticed there had been no increase in the level of security at the airport because of the shooting in the city. Perhaps such an event was still too common to warrant a reaction at the airport. Most of the firefight incidents in the city were among residents. They had disposed of their weapons in the men’s room and were able to board the airplane with no difficulty at security checkpoints. Al-Hanbali felt tired and exhausted. Before he fell off to sleep, perhaps because he had escaped death on this day, he started to remember his earlier life, in that religious school all those years ago.
“I want all of you to listen to me very closely,” the Imam had said as he squinted through half-frame glasses. Al-Hanbali could see that the eyes were gray and appeared exhausted from extensive reading. “We are what our fellow countrymen call militant Muslims, or fundamentalist, or sometimes Jihadists.” He did not go into an explanation of what comprised this radical form of conservative Wahhabi Islam, which believed they should control the Middle East first, then all of Europe, then the world. All those who opposed them must be killed, enslaved or eliminated as examples.
“We are engaged in a civil war here in our homeland. It is not a real shooting war yet, but a battle of philosophy. But we want to finish the Holocaust, eliminate Judaism.” He said this as a fact, not a matter for discussion. As he bowed his turban-covered head, he continued with their instruction.
“The oil is ours, and it should not be used by moderate Muslims to live in peace with other countries and with other religions. Those moderates want to propel us into a technology age contrary to what the Prophet taught. We must control the oil, not this OPEC, and we will bring the western societies that depend on it for their technology lifeblood to a standstill.” The Imam continued in this vein for another hour. When al-Hanbali fell off to sleep, the Imam swiped at his back with a stiff wooden rod. In his anger, he missed and opened a large gash on al-Hanbali’s neck.
“You will pay attention to the words of the Prophet. That is a small token to remind you that you are the instrument of Allah. Pay attention and heed his word.” The Imam walked away without another word.
Al-Hanbali knew the tenets the Imam advocated and firmly believed in their truth. Even his father had told him of the evil the reformers in Islam were causing. Consequently, it became easy to believe what the Imam taught since all his friends and family held similar views.
His final thoughts, before dozing off in the comfortable seat on the plane in business class, were of the kitchen in his mother’s house as she was cooking his favorite bread, its fresh baked aroma filling the room. She had always loved al-Hanbali in a special way and he loved her. She stood out as the one thing he could remember loving. True, he loved his brother, Basam, but that was different.
* * *
FAISAL MALLAH – AT THE RESTAURANT
8:55 P.M. – BEIRUT
On hearing the first shot, Faisal Mallah dove for the floor and scrambled back towards the doorway leading into the restaurant. Inside, he rotated, drew his weapon and looked back down the narrow street. He observed a security man fall in the street and glanced at the bullet-shattered body of Kemal. Al-Hanbali and his bodyguard were heading towards the rear exit. Faisal turned to follow them out of the back door. As he did so, he noticed the attackers were running towards a van. He yelled at his bodyguard to come with him.
He strained to see who these people were. He saw one woman, and at least three men. They all hopped into the van, and it pulled away. He ran back toward the front door and went outside in hopes of seeing the type of truck or of getting sight of the license plate. But he stood too far away to see the numbers.
Faisal and his bodyguard ran after the van. They got to the end of the street, looked in each direction and saw a car coming toward them. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at the driver. The vehicle stopped. He yanked open the door, pulled the old man out by the collar of his shirt, and tossed him to the ground. The old man’s face scraped across the asphalt, which acted like 60-grit sandpaper on soft wood until his face resembled a bleeding red beet. They left him sprawled on the street and both jumped into the vehicle and raced after the disappearing van. Faisal kept his distance once the van came within view.
His efforts paid off when he saw it enter the American Embassy. Now he knew the identity of the attackers. He continued on past the embassy and headed for an address where the rest of his cell would meet with him in the morning. He would share the events surrounding the meeting with his followers.
At ten the following morning, he started into a short briefing of what al-Hanbali had told him about the construction of the atomic bomb. There was a gasp by the members of his team present. They were cooperating in this effort by volunteering to sacrifice themselves. This revelation of an atomic device contained something utterly unexpected, and they took a few moments to comprehend the extent of the damage they could do with such a weapon. Faisal took a seat at the small wood table and continued to relate what happened.
"Then we were attacked by a satanic American team. I don’t know how they could have known where we were nor how they got into position to attack us. Someone on our side screwed up. One of the others ran off at the mout
h and the Americans found out about our meeting.” When he began his tale, he rotated his head from side to side, but now he started pounding his fist on the table. “There is no way the Americans could have been there on pure chance. We were completely random on the selection of the restaurant. That makes me believe the bastards had to know in advance of the meeting at the hotel and somehow followed us to the restaurant." Faisal stopped beating the table and in a calmer manner continued briefing the members of his unit on what happened.
"But before the Americans hit us, we got a complete briefing on the plan for using this atomic bomb that is, even now, under construction in Saudi Arabia. We have supported this operation in order to get to the final phase. They believe we’re in concert with what al-Hanbali wants to do with his weapon. We will continue to make them think that," Faisal said.
"When are we going to take the weapon away from them?" asked one of the men present. The rest murmured agreement.
"We’ll attack them when they are transporting the weapon to the site that they believe will disrupt the Western oil supply. I have to find out when that is from al-Hanbali. He suspects nothing at this time. He will believe one of us, either Kemal or us, had a security breach. I must convince him that we did no such betrayal."
He said that he must call Tewfik al-Hanbali to sort this out and allay any suspicion the Saudi might have. He left them and went to a small room, where he opened his tri-band phone and dialed al-Hanbali’s number. As he waited for the call to go through, he recalled when he was young and growing up in a PLO camp. Learning how to use a weapon at eight years of age, he became an expert sharpshooter by the time he reached ten. He had been on the front lines against the Israelis by firing the Katyusha rockets into their positions from Lebanese soil. He had been fighting the Israelis for as long as he could remember. He now potentially possessed a way he thought would enable the destruction of Israel.
