Abigail – The Avenging Agent: The agent appears again (21 page)

Abigail traipsed around the huge
oilfield with a group of visitors in the Persian Gulf for a whole day.  When
the tour ended, she accompanied the group to the bus and waved to the people,
who looked at her through the windows.  According to the plan, she was to act
tonight.

She sat on the ground, at the foot of a
rough-barked tree trunk as she took care to disappear and merge with the rocky
landscape and watch the passing trucks that gradually lessened in number. 
Abigail knew that it would be a dark, impenetrable night, because there would
be no moon and when darkness fell and blocked out everything, she got up from
where she lay.

Dozens of derricks
operated in the field, rising and descending with monotonous clanging.  The
largest was located in the sea, on an artificial island specially built for
offshore oil excavation.  The massive bit pounded hard as it drilled endlessly,
night and day, for deep pockets of oil in the depths, below the sea.

A few weeks earlier, there had been
talks about the assignment. Five people participated in the discussions that dealt
with activity to cause damage to the Iranian nuclear reactors.  An argument
arose with regard to the modus operandi and the issue was whether or not to
create some kind of diversion before knocking the reactors out.

There was also disagreement about the location
of such an attack and differences of opinion regarding which reactor it was
vital to damage.  Liam suggested attacking Bushehr and Jalal insisted that it
was more important to put the reactor at Isfahan out of action.

“Bushehr only has research reactors,
which are small and not threatening,” Bill remarked.

“That’s inaccurate,” Liam replied.  “We
know that uranium enrichment facilities have been added there,” he stated as he
took some documents out of his briefcase and spread one of them out.

“You will notice that in spite of
repeated declarations to the contrary, the reactor at Bushehr is not only
producing nuclear energy but is actually progressing with its program to
produce a nuclear weapon.”

Liam was an intelligence officer and his
opinion regarding Iran’s nuclear facilities was highly esteemed.

“I tell you that if they manage to take
advantage of the spent fuel from this reactor and produce plutonium, they will
be able to manufacture nuclear weapons there, too.”

Bill also came prepared for the
meeting.  He spread out photographs and when everyone leaned over to examine them,
he said.

“We found out some interesting details
about the reactor as Isfahan,” He said, looking into their eyes to check their
reaction.

“I do understand that part of our goal
is to get an answer to the question of how advanced they are with their project
to enrich uranium and produce a nuclear device.”

“Oh, really?  I thought the goal was sabotage,
not information gathering,” Michael interrupted, and when Jalal stared at him, questioning
the meaning of his remark, he explained:

“We do not intend to examine what is or
isn’t in the reactors.  I understand we are supposed to destroy, annihilate and
disrupt. Or am I mistaken, Gentlemen?”

Karma laughed briefly.

“I think it’s naïve to believe we
can destroy their entire nuclear program.  In my opinion, it is also worth
checking out which location is closest to producing a bomb.”

Liam leaned back and glanced at the
people, one after the other.

“My idea is to introduce a virus capable
of copying everything in their system, and I mean everything; to record sounds,
get photographs of screens and even copy chats.”

“Wow!” Jalal exclaimed.

“Oh, really, why do we need such on even
the smallest details?”

“We are interested in penetrating the
project on which the whole Iranian nuclear program is based and get a
simulation of their military facility, especially the one at Prachin.”

“Why there, of all places?”

“Because we suspect that it serves to
promote the regime’s nuclear program.” 

“Hey, everyone, let’s first conclude the
harassment and distraction operation,” Bill suggested.

They all knew that this was meant to
distract and divert their attention from the reactors.

“Who’s been nominated to carry out the
distraction?” Karma inquired.

Four of them suggested assigning the job
to Abigail and Karma abstained.  They looked at him questioningly.

“I have to say that I don’t know her
well enough, but since this appears to be a less demanding job that doesn’t
require courage or talent, I also have no objection.”

They finished discussing the diversion
tactic within an hour, checked out possible sites and chose the large drilling
platform located on the artificial island, about fifty yards from the shore. 
Since Jalal was the man with the know-how about the location, it was decided
that he would be the intermediary to provide the materials and plan the
execution of the job with Abigail.

They delayed the discussion regarding
the attack on the reactors, planned to take place on the same day, of course,
until a special meeting.

Over the past few days, Abigail led two
groups of tourists to the Persian Gulf oilfields. To dispel possible suspicion,
she also led a third group to the oil fields in the city of Qom.
 
While touring Qom with her group, she noticed the gigantic pipes.  She knew
they carried oil from the island of Kharg in the Persian Gulf and wondered whether
it wouldn’t be better to attack here.  She decided to propose the idea at the
next meeting.

Abigail joined the debate about the
nuclear reactors.  She had asked to attend to make a suggestion at the
beginning of the meeting.

“After my last tour of the oil field at Qom,
I thought it would actually be best to attack there.”

She looked at the others and added:

“Here, the oil is conveyed along
enormous pipes and they would make an excellent target for sabotage.”

“But many oil tankers move around there,”
Karma remarked.

“Precisely,” she replied.  “A tanker
like that would be….”

”But that isn’t the idea,” Bill
interjected.

“Why not?”

“Have you forgotten that you are only
supposed to create a distraction? The damage you are suggesting is
superfluous.  Make do with a
diversionary tactic
that’s all, Okay?”

Karma stared at Abigail. He believed she
overestimated herself and considered suggesting that an additional person
should join her on this assignment. 

Abigail saw his look and it didn’t occur
to her how much he still did not appreciate or acknowledge her abilities.  She
was almost convinced that he liked her and she smiled at him, knowing that her
dimples were deepening in her cheeks.  They had met several times and she
noticed plainly that the man was not interested in strengthening their personal
relationship.  Karma made every effort to show her that their relationship
began and ended with their work.

“Are you prepared for action?” She
heard.

“Yes, of course.  I’m leading a group on
the same day and will remain there to carry out the job.”

“Don’t forget that it has to be a
diversion, so be sure not to overdo it,” Bill warned.

That morning, as she faced the group of
tourists, a bearded man remarked in a loud voice, as he tried to make himself
heard above the banging of the drill.

“Hey, everything is black!  Look, even
the ground we’re walking on and the water in the bay.”

He pointed to the breakwater that
stretched for a kilometer into the sea.  It was imprinted with black in layers
up to the mark of the lapping waters.  The water colored the breakwater in
shades of gray according to the rising and falling tides.

“Correct.  That happens because that
gigantic drill splits the levels of the earth as it penetrates it,” she
explained, “When it succeeds in entering the pockets, the oil bursts out and turns
everything black.”

A concrete wall surrounded the
artificial island where the drilling tower stood.  The wall created a lagoon of
calm water that was undisturbed by currents, storms or ocean waves.  Abigail
asked the tourists:

“Who brought a swimsuit?  This is your
opportunity to splash around in this marvelous pool,” then quickly added: 

“I’m joking, of course.”

Dozens of people were milling around busily
on the island and a ship coasting around it sailed back and forth in slow
circles as Abigail explained in a loud voice.

“The ship you see over there cruises
between the island and the shore with supplies of fuel and everything else they
need.”

A fully loaded tanker moved beside them
and Abigail pointed eastwards in the direction of the dock at the port of
Kharg.

“We are looking at one of the largest
harbors in the world, in terms of the cargo and trucks that pass through it.”

At that moment, another huge
semi-trailer overtook them and the people in her group called out in amazement
at its size.  It crossed Abigail’s mind that an attack on such a vehicle would
be a better distraction than sabotaging the drilling rig.  But, it was too late
to change the plan and the assignment. As she stood with the members of her
group, she checked the inspection route the guards were using and memorized it.

The bus reached the pick-up point,
hooted and the members of the group hurried on board.  Abigail climbed on to
take leave of them after they were seated.  She waited till the bus disappeared,
then returned to the place she had prepared in advance, huddled up against the
trunk of a tree and waited.  She glanced around the area near the bank as she
tried to commit every detail to memory and waited for nightfall.

The darkness was so thick that she could
not see
more than a meter ahead and she was grateful she remembered every corner of the
area. The clanking of the oil rigs could be heard from all directions. The
banging of the big drill, some fifty yards from the shore, drowned their
clatter out.

She pulled a cloth bag, containing a
small explosive device connected to a mobile telephone, out of her sleeve.  The
plan was to throw the bag on the island and then ignite it by dialing the
numbers that created a triangle on the dialing pad, zero, one, and three. The
firing pin would then detonate the explosive.  The idea was that the explosion
would disrupt the drilling operation and delay it for a day or, at best, two
days.

An unexpected drizzle began and Abigail
wiped her face with her sleeve, sniffed and moved cautiously among the rocks. 
She remembered the inspection route the guards took, very well.  Toward
evening, she noticed a man holding a dog on a leash and she prayed he wasn’t a
guard.  And, if he was a guard, then she prayed she would not meet up with
him.  She could hide from the man, but she could not hide from the sense of
smell of his dog.

Abigail was unarmed.  Sparks from
gunfire would pinpoint her location.  As usual, she placed a short rope of
woven nylon cord inside her sleeve, which she relied on together with her
training in Krav Maga, contact fighting, classes.  Today, she smeared the cord
with black mud to match the blackness around her.

Everything had been planned, including
the withdrawal to the forest behind her and she was equipped with a sharp knife
to cut her way through the snarled vegetation. She had learned the trails, the
entrances and the exits from the forest and when she toured it with her groups
she searched for additional paths to assure herself of an escape route.  She
never forgot the black marshes and swampy quicksand that lay to her left.

A tiny bright spot lit up suddenly, illuminated
the sky for a few seconds and disappeared.  Her first thought was that someone
sitting there was inhaling a lit cigarette and she almost made a fatal
mistake.  It was an intentional trick.  The dot of light came on every half
hour to mislead uninvited guests and ultra-violet laser beams, undetectable to
the human eye, were trained on her.  At that moment, the screech of a nocturnal
bird was heard but, the screech was too short and ended all at once, not as she
might have expected.  Abigail was a Bedouin, who had grown up in the desert and
the sounds of animals in the wild were familiar to her and ingrained in her
soul so she immediately thought:

‘Oh, God, something is happening here.’

She lay in the hollow between the rocks
and thought about the connection between the dot of light and the screech of
the nocturnal bird and decided to end the matter and flee from there.  She
crawled toward the water like a lizard, but the ground was muddy from the rain
and made crawling difficult and it took longer than the time she had planned. 
She stopped to listen.

The rush of the waves sounded close to
her ears and the salty smell of the water stung her nostrils.  She pulled the
bag out of her sleeve, got up on all fours and threw it forward with all her
might, in the direction of the island.  She immediately put her head on the
ground, counted to three and dialed her phone.