Misdemeanor Trials (20 page)

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

THE BETRAYED

“When one calls death, he always answers.”

--Zalesky

Eris Bahar climbed the steps into the bus outside his home in suburban Tehran on Monday morning for another 30 mile trip to work at the Hemmatt Industrial Complex.  He greeted his fellow workers and took his usual seat in the middle of the bus.  He had read about the killing of Dr.  Abassi-Davani, and he wondered how it would set back the program he was working on.  The bus lumbered through the city and picked up a few more of his friends and fellow scientists before setting out on the highway.  He would spend the next five days in the facility at Hemmatt, spending twelve hour days away from his family and his home.  He had been allowed to live off site of the scientific and production complex.  Thousands of other workers lived there in tall high rise apartments.  He was privileged.  He had made significant contributions to the project, and was the lead scientist in a group that had developed a simple Go-onto-Location-in-Space guidance system.  His system was not as complex as the west had, but it was able to use Global Navigation Satellite Systems atop the North Korean Do Nong Missile.  It was a guidance system that was a “launch and forget” system to a specific preloaded target.  There was no sophisticated tracking ability for the missile after launch, and its success would be determined by reading what happened in the morning paper, or seeing the destruction of his country by retaliation from the target nation.  He had been performing this same work routine for twelve years.  He was necessary for the development of defense systems for the country he had been born to.  His family ties went back centuries when Iran was Persia.  He had been rewarded for his work and lived in a pleasant home.  He had a car and his children went to private schools.  His wife was a successful and active lawyer, constantly in court defending farmers in water distribution issues.  She constantly fought in court, and her legal complaints centered around the fact that Tehran had hundreds of thousands of cubic feet of water, enough for all the needs of Tehran and a large part of the country.  But the government was diverting from the farmers for other reasons.  Without water, the farms would dry up, food would not be available, and the population would suffer further.  Already food prices had increased forty per cent in the last year because of the food shortages.  Transportation costs were exploding, and the decreasing number of farms in Iran contributed to the rampant inflation.  Although Eris thought water distribution rights were important, and he would listen to his wife's stories every weekend about her struggles in court, he was quietly bored by the whole thing.  But Eris had another gnawing crisis that caused him to be irritable.  He was less patient with his wife and children, and he had lost weight over the last few months while he considered his dilemma.

He always had some feelings of distrust in his country's leadership.  His mistrust had developed to the point now that he had personal deep and growing hesitations in helping to build a missile that would kill thousands of people, and would certainly bring death and annihilation to his own country, especially since the inauguration day bombing.  He thought his government was losing its grip on reality.  The group of scientists he was working with was moving closer to a missile guidance protocol that would change the ballistic missile to an independently guided, long range missile.  It was capable of carrying a nuclear bomb, which he had heard was ready for installation.  He had been given specifics about the weight, dimensions and electrical properties of the warhead.  He contemplated that the change would require some further development of the guidance system.  The pressure to complete his team’s project had increased significantly over the last few months.  His own team was near completion and he felt the final purpose of his work was in the near term future, and he was afraid.

Eris knew it was important that he tell someone, or anyone who could change things before there was a holocaust in his country.  He wanted to contact someone in the United States, or any country that could make things different.  He had no relatives, friends or contacts outside of Iran.  He considered many different ways that he could contact someone outside of Iran that might have influence or listen to him, but they presented risk to himself and his family if he were detected.  If he used any method to contact someone outside of Iran, it was possible that several people might see, or read, or hear, and then talk about it too much.  A leak would develop, and he would be found out.  He would be killed.  He was afraid.  He thought deeply about how to make contact without dangerously exposing his family or himself. 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

THE POTION

“The hottest fires in hell are reserved for those who, in times of moral crisis, remain neutral.” –

--Dante

The vibrator on Mac's cell phone was loud.  Mac looked at the phone, put it in his pocket and said, “I gotta go.” Thirty minutes later Mac walked into the Petra Cafe where he sat with Mishka Bergman.  They shook hands and began to speak in Farsi of the chances of the Esteghlal Tehran Football Club to win the Asian Cup.  They each ordered espresso.  Mac dumped two teaspoons of sugar into his espresso, stirred quietly and then said, “What is it?”

“Khaled Mash'al will be in Tehran tomorrow," replied Mishka.  “Ben wants him to start enjoying the 70 virgins.  Time is very short and we have a spur of the moment operational plan without resources.  We may not be able to execute the plan, but we have to be ready and we have to try.  We're bringing in the Saudi's,” Mishka went on.

“In the past Mash'al stayed at the Azadi Grand Hotel while in Tehran.  We will have a man at the airport telling us when he arrives.  There are four direct flights from Istanbul arriving at 12:55 AM, 2:55 AM, 5:50 AM and 2:55 PM.  We will be watching every flight.  We won't have enough manpower to follow him from the airport.  We will have to rely on his routine.  We only have eight to cover twenty four floors at the Grand.  When Mash'al arrives a woman will enter the elevator with him and press floor 23.  She will report what floor he gets off the elevator.  The closest man will get to that floor as quickly as possible to see which room he enters.  If his bodyguards don't allow anyone else in the elevator, we have already put a GPS transmitter in each elevator.  When his elevator stops, we will know what floor his is on.  If our man gets there in time, we will know which room he is staying in.  The biology Institute in Ness Ziona has created a potion which is really a poison.  A few drops on the skin causes death in a day or two.  It leaves no traces and can't be detected in an autopsy.  The medical conclusion will be he suffered a heart attack.  It has been used in the past against Wadie Haddad.  It works.  We have some. 

“One of our men will stick a remote camera high in the hallway to watch the door we know he entered.  A few minutes after Mash'al goes into the room, a housekeeper will pass by the door and put the poison gel on the door handle.  The doors at the hotel are not self-closing.  Then we will watch.”

“What's our play?” asked Mac.

“Your man will have a laptop with hotel Wi-Fi to monitor the camera.  He will tell us when Mash'al leaves the room.  When Mash'al closes the door, he will touch the gel.  When he walks away, we will wipe down the door, retrieve the GPSs, the camera, and your man will leave the room where he is monitoring, and the operation is over.  In twelve to 24 hours Mash'al will be dead.  No fuss, no loud noises, no investigation.  Your man will go to room 1540 as soon as you can mobilize, and he will carry this laptop.  He only needs to turn it on, and the camera will come on, and the computer screen will show him what the camera sees.  The more help you can give, the more floors we can surveil and the success of the operation is improved.”

“Why the Saudi's?” asked Mac.

“We have worked with them several times before the Inauguration Day bombing.  They were helpful in doing anything to stop Tehran from developing the bomb.  The Saudis supplied information and manpower for several scientist sendoffs by us.  The nuclear bomb threat is subsided somewhat because of their help.  I think this may be payment on account.”

Mac replied, “I don't want to be seen, or any of my group to be seen, by any Saudi, or member of your team.  In the cold war if you got caught, there was exchange of spies.  In today's world your family gets a video of your beheading.”

“Won't happen.  Once we have identified his room, everyone except my people evacuate from the floor they have been monitoring.  You will never be side by side with any operative.  How many men can you give me?” asked Mishka.

“Three, maybe Four,” answered Mac.

“Here is a photo of Mash'al.  Two of your men will be responsible for floors two through eight.  One of yours will be in room 1540.  My guys and the Saudis will be handling the riskier floors.  Cycle your men for each arrival time.  Trip time from the airport is about 50 minutes.  From now on only text.  We'll exchange notes after the operation,” said Mishka.

“What about the possibility of collateral damage?” asked Mac.

“Sometimes things don’t go according to plan.  A bodyguard could close his hotel room door, or a companion who might be in the room with him might touch the handle.  We're dealing with humans on this operation with very short lead or planning time.  They are professional, but time is short.  You know as well as I do that when humans are involved, anything can go wrong, and often does,” said Mishka.

After some discussion on the details of the operation, Mac stood up.  “See you on the other side,” said Mac, and left with the computer in his hand and a card key to room 1540.  When he arrived at the compound he gathered Raintree and Trader in the back bedroom and explained their roll.  “John, if you will help us out, you will be the man in room 1540.  Use this phone to text only to me either “evac” to tell everyone to leave asap because the mission is accomplished, or “compro” if there is a glitch of any sort.  With “evac”, you leave.  If the text says “compro”, stay in the room, someone will come to the room, and if not, wait in the room until breakfast the next morning.  Then leave and return here.”

“Who is Mash'al?” asked John.

“He is an Arab fanatic Islamic radical.  He has thrown the first stone against women who are accused of adultery, chopped off the heads of Jews, Gentiles and other infidels, and killed Arabs who have gone to a bar for a quick drink.  That's probably why the Saudis are involved.  He has picked up IDF hitchhikers in Israel and beheaded them in videos, and he has been a consistent supplier of Iranian weapons to Gaza.  He has been in the cross-hairs of the Mossad for a decade, but he has had so much work on his face that he looks very different than he did just a few years ago.  A deep cover operative in Gaza heard Mash'al would be in Gaza City.  Their guy thought he observed Mash'al last week and tailed him, and Mossad got a set of his fingerprints.  He didn't change those.  Mash'al then roaded to Cairo.  Their Cairo presence saw him purchase tickets to Istanbul and through to Tehran.  A photo was taken of him when he arrived in Istanbul.  In the meantime his fingerprints were checked and his ID was confirmed.  Any portion of the intel could be unsupported, and things can change rapidly.  But we have a strong sense that he will be here.  There is such intensity by the Mossad to send him packing, that they are willing to take this risk, but the entire operation has to be low key.”

“If this guy is coming home, why would he go to a hotel?” asked John.

Mac replied, “No one seems to know where the guy lives.  He's Iranian, but he is also Hamas.  He could be living in Gaza.  He could be living in Tehran, or he could be living in Europe.  That is why it has been so difficult to find him.  With the gun running he does and the support of radicals in the Middle East, he may not have a home.  What is planned here is a long shot, but his history has been to stay at the Azadi Grand Hotel when in Tehran.  Are you in?”

After the first operation, John knew that this team was professional, even if he didn't know Mac very well.  “Yes.” answered John.  “But I don't like missing my evening prayers.” Then he asked, “Is it always like this, so busy?”

“Never,” said Mac.  “This is very unusual, but since the Inauguration day bombing, intel has improved and the rats are coming out of their cages.  We can't go on too long with these operations or we could face exposure, but this Mash'al guy has enough blood on his hands to cause a blood moon.  Here is the laptop and the card key for the room.  The photo of the target is on the phone.  Be in the room by midnight and wait until we let you know that Mash'al is on his way.”

“This is the last time,” said John.

Raintree drove John to the Azadi Grand and John went directly to the room, plugged in the laptop, turned it on and saw a still life of a hotel room door number 1540.  At least he knew it was working on his door.

John watched several soccer matches on the room television, with commentary in Farsi about teams he could not recognize under the best of circumstances.  He also caught up on sleep he had missed for a long time, and here he could sleep on a fairly comfortable bed.  After surfing the entire internet, and at four P.M the following afternoon, John received a text, “arrived”. 

The female operative waiting in the entrance to the hotel observed Mash'al come in with two men obviously as bodyguards, and a girl she estimated to be 8 years old holding the hand of Mash'al.  His daughter, clearly unexpected, complicated the task.  The female operative quickly followed behind Mash'al as his group headed for the elevators.  The group passed by the registration desk without checking in.  She tried to get onto elevator number one, but was told by the bodyguards that she could not come in.  She watched as the doors closed and pressed her send button on the text line to tell the group she was not on the elevator.  The GPS monitoring the elevators saw that elevator one stopped on the 3
rd
floor and notified others of the stop.  Elevators two and three were not on the main floor when the team received the text.  The scramble began to the third floor to see which room Mash'al would occupy.  The text to the team from floor three was “no joy”.  Then the GPS indicated a stop of the 5
th
floor, and then the 7
th
floor and every other odd numbered floor.  Team members climbed or descended to the odd numbered floors with consistent text of “no joy”.  Then on the ninth floor the text was “empty.”  A team member climbed to the seventh floor and opened the hallway door.  He proceeded slowly to walk towards the elevators and saw Mash'al's group opening and going into the door to room 707.  He waited at the elevator until Mash'al entered the room and placed the marble sized camera across for his room, high on the wall near a wall lamp that illuminated the hallway.  John immediately saw a split screen on his monitor with one image of his door and another of the door to room 707.  He waited and watched for twenty minutes and received the text “compro”.  He psychologically prepared himself for another day of soccer games when he heard a knock on the door.  He looked at his monitor and a lone man stood in front of his door.  John opened the door and the man told John, “Leave now,” and then walked away from the door.  John gathered the computer, saw that the camera opposite of his room was gone.  John left the hotel and walked to the street.  He got onto the bus he knew would leave to his neighborhood and wondered what had stopped the operation.  When he arrived at the house it was too late to attend prayers and no one was there except the street urchin taken in by Raintree, Mac and Farah.  The kid was eating and watching television.

At around eleven that night Farah, Mac and Raintree arrived.  Mac said, “The operation was called off.  The girl with Mash'al was his daughter and a surprise, and they don't kill children if they can avoid it.”

John asked, “Is there anything to be done to stop Mash'al?”

Mac responded, “They have another option, but we're not involved.  They have a gas propulsion gun on a disability cane that can propel a spent uranium pointed needle to keep it stabilized.  It is coated with the potion and can travel about thirty yards, so they will have to get close.  It can penetrate his clothes.  He may feel it, and he may know he has been hit, but there will be nothing anyone can do.  He will be dead shortly after that, but the cause of death may be detectable.  If the new alternative plan doesn't work, they will have plenty of photos of Mash'al, so it should not be impossible to find him later on, but it will still be difficult.”