Three (16 page)

Ibrahim obliged, showing no
hostility, and presented his papers.  Again wooden crates were removed from the
van and opened, revealing bag-upon-bag of pistachios.  And as had happened
before, after lifting and opening three of the rear-most crates, the soldiers
tired of the inspection and returned to their military vehicle, again warning
Ibrahim to move to a safer part of Baghdad. 

After these soldiers had left
the square, and Ibrahim was in the process of repacking the crates, he was
approached by the same merchant who had taken him to Hamid.  “You did well, my
friend; Hamid has vouched for you, and I will give you instructions for joining
us tonight.  At 8:00, you must drive to Fallujah, cross the Euphrates, and find
a side street in Ramadi from which you can observe the highway.  Vehicles will
begin to convoy around 11:00 and you can then join us.  Here is your letter of
conveyance.  Hide it from all but fellow ISIS fighters.”

Ibrahim was now a member of ISIS,
and whether or not he had intended it, he now shared all of the risks of
imbedding himself into a rebel combat unit. 
This convoy may be carrying
goods, but it is in fact a military operation against the Iraqi army.  We will
most likely enter into some form of combat during the night.
 Ibrahim was
beginning to feel a surge of fear and regret.  The only thing more frightening
to him than going into this night-time venture unarmed, was going into it armed
and expected to fight.  He had never even touched a rifle, much less fired one.

Leaving the square and
driving out toward the airport, Ibrahim found a filling station where he
purchased gasoline, bread, sliced lamb, and bottles of water and tea for the
trip.  He then drove west through Fallujah and on to the long bridge spanning
the Euphrates.  By the time he reached the village of Ramadi, the streets were
deserted and darkness had fallen with the suddenness so familiar to anyone who
lived in desert country.  He parked his van in a side alley and in time was
aware of other trucks and vans, with headlights off, moving into positions
along the side roads.

In time the vehicle activity
tapered off, and silence descended over the town.  The night was cool and
silent; there were no sounds from the town or the surrounding dessert.  Sitting
in his van with the windows rolled down, Ibrahim found the unfamiliar silence unnerving. 
He knew there were many fellow transporters around him but he expected to sense
their presence by the sounds of conversation or just the shuffle of feet in the
dirt side streets.  There was just silence, making him feel like he was the
only living thing for hundreds of miles.

Ibrahim suddenly recoiled in
fear as a dark form appeared next to his window and asked in a hushed voice,
“Do you have your letter of conveyance?”  A red flashlight revealed a pistol
pointed at Ibrahim’s head.  This ISIS soldier was dressed completely in black
with a black skull-cap and scarf that revealed only his eyes.  Ibrahim fished
carefully into his shirt pocket and presented the letter given to him hours
before by the produce merchant.  After a quick examination of the paper, the
ISIS combatant returned the paper and motioned for Ibrahim to proceed out into
the main highway where now other darkened vehicles were beginning to move.

The long line of vehicles was
faintly visible in the darkness.   It was slowly beginning to move forward when
another man in black carrying an assault rifle opened Ibrahim’s passenger-side
door and hopped into the seat next to him.  He said nothing, and since Ibrahim
was the newcomer to this operation, he made no acknowledgement and both men
rode forward in silence.  Ibrahim wondered if there were armed men in black
riding in each of the vehicles, and perhaps squads with heavy weapons riding in
the back of the larger trucks. 
What have I gotten myself into?

The convoy rode on through
the night in silence, with no stopping along the way, until they approached Ar
Rat bah.  At this point, once the convoy had stopped, the ISIS fighter got out
of Ibrahim’s van and said in a hushed voice, “Wait here until the convoy again
begins to move.  If you come under fire, quickly drive off the road and into a wadi,
or a side street if you are in the town.”  He then vanished into the darkness.

Ibrahim saw other fighters in
black slipping out of the vehicles and disappearing off to the north of the
highway.  After he had waited for twenty minutes he heard the sound of engines
starting.  The convoy was again on the move. 

He drove slowly forward,
following the long line of vehicles westward toward Ar Rat bah.  After fifteen
minutes of slow driving, Ibrahim noticed lights far ahead.  Flash lights were
being waved in front of the convoy, either by local militia or by a patrol of
Iraqi troops.  He knew that the ISIS rebels who had disembarked two hours
earlier would not halt the convoy in this manner, exposing its position.

Suddenly gunfire erupted from
the right side of the road near the front of the column.  Almost immediately a
much larger muzzle blast flared nearby and a vehicle three positions ahead of
Ibrahim exploded into flaming pieces, one of which fell next to his van.  He
immediately drove off the highway to the left and down a long embankment into
what appeared to be a stream bed or wadi.  The attack continued, but after four
or five explosions from mortars or cannon fire, the sounds of battle calmed
down.  No more cannon shells or vehicles exploded nearby. 

Ibrahim saw men running down
into the wadi and exchanging fire with their pursuers.  He quickly rolled from
the driver’s seat of the van onto the ground to take cover from the gunfire.  The
gunfire became less frequent and finally stopped.

The night subsided into a
frightening stillness. What threat now lurked in the nearby darkness?  Ibrahim
lay motionless on the ground next to his van, almost unwilling to breathe for
fear of exposing his position.  Suddenly he was startled by a dark figure
standing next to him holding a rifle with a second slung across his shoulder.

“We are now safe to continue
our trip to Damascus.  May I ride with you again?”  The ISIS fighter had found
him.

As they drove out of the wadi
and rejoined the convoy, Ibrahim was aware of the deep throated roar and track
rattle of combat vehicles that had joined the convoy.

His companion now relaxed in
the front seat.  “We carried out a most successful attack on that Iraqi
patrol.  We captured over thirty M16 rifles and four Bradley vehicles.  The
Caliph will be very pleased.”

Ibrahim realized that he,
along with all the other merchants on this journey, including the ones killed
in the attack, had just served as decoys in a well-planned ISIS move to capture
military equipment and assassinate Iraqi soldiers, their bodies left strewn
along some wadi.  Though bile rose in his throat, he forced it back and
continued driving on toward Syria in silence hoping that there would be no more
violence.  At the border it became obvious that there had recently been an
attack here as well because the entire convoy was waved through by two armed
ISIS fighters.  There were no official border guards in sight.

The convoy stopped again when
it reached the town of Sab’ Bi’ Ar.  The faint light of dawn was causing the
eastern sky behind them to glow red.  This time there was no shooting, just
shouts of joy as the local ISIS group took control of the Bradleys and moved
them into cover and out of sight of Syrian aircraft.  Food and tea was shared
among the merchants and rebels in the cool light of morning. 

Ibrahim’s ISIS hitchhiker
returned to the van with a second companion, both dressed in civilian clothes. 
As they both got into the front passenger seat he said, “We will go with you to
Damascus.  We have been assigned to you to help with the sale of your goods and
the transport of cash to our leader.”

From this point onward toward
Damascus each vehicle was on its own.   The rest of the drive was more like a
morning commute with the masked, black-clad fighters now traveling companions. 
Ibrahim and his agents were just other merchants on their way to market in
Damascus.  When they reached the city Ibrahim insisted that he first find an
apartment in a safe part of the city, away from any fighting.  Next, he let his
two companions help him unload the crates of nuts and then inventory each crate
in order to fill the ones from which he had previously sold or given some of
the individual bags. 

One last crate remained in
the van.  Ibrahim counted the number of bags missing from the other crates and
refilled them from this last crate. “We can leave this last, partly filled crate
here at my apartment, since it is incomplete.  Help me bring it inside where it
will be safe.  We can sell the full crates at the central market in bulk.  That
way we will be done in a few hours.  I will worry about selling off the
remaining individual bags later.”

The three struggled to lift
out the last crate and carry it into Ibrahim’s new apartment.

“Why is this crate so heavy?”
asked the first agent as he struggled to lift it up the steps.

“It contains a computer that
I smuggled out of Iran.  I will tell you later what kind of attack on the
enemies of ISIS I have decided to carry out with it.  I must first tell your
supreme leader, the Caliph, of my plans, and ask his permission to undertake
this attack.”

The ISIS agent who had ridden
across Iraq with him said, “I was told in Bagdad you might have something
additional to contribute to our cause.  I will arrange a meeting with the
Caliph tomorrow.”

Over the next few days Ibrahim
worked with the two ISIS agents who helped him market the Pistachios and
transfer the proceeds to the Caliph.  Later that month he was able to convince
these same two loyal agents, whose identities were carefully hidden by forged
papers, to join with him in an attack against the enemies of ISIS by sabotaging
CERN.  The two men were led to believe that this plan was only an ISIS attack.

In his meeting with the Caliph,
Ibrahim had presented his plan as his own personal desire to carry out a
devastating cyber-attack on the ATLAS detector in the most critical section of CERN.
The attack had been approved with enthusiasm for it would be a strong blow in
the war against the Americans and their European allies, whom the Caliph
identified as the modern crusader army, his sworn enemy. 

Handing a folder of papers
and a small flash drive to the first agent, Ibrahim said, “Here is a detailed
layout of the floor-plan of Building 40 and the access to the underground
control office for the ATLAS detector.  This area is not carefully guarded and
you should be able to reach this control room and pick the lock.  Once inside
you simply need to turn on the control panel and insert this flash drive into
the USB port on the side of the key pad.  The virus will eventually do the
rest.”

“How can such a small device
destroy such a large object?” asked the second agent, looking with astonishment
at the photographs of the gigantic ATLAS detector.

“This flash drive contains a
virus that will infect the control program.  In fact, after it has downloaded
its computer virus, you must remove it from the control keyboard and hide it on
your person in case you are stopped and searched upon leaving.  When tests are
run on Monday, the 9
^th
of June, the instructions contained in this
tiny device will be activated and cause the control computer to destroy the
detector, along with much of the surrounding facility which has become a den of
Satan worshipers.  You must study these plans carefully and prepare for this
important mission because time is of the essence.  You have flight reservations
tonight for arrival in Geneva tomorrow morning.”

The two ISIS agents prepared
to carry out their mission with no real understanding of its potential impact. 
To them, the lack of knives, guns, or bombs on a combat mission made the entire
effort somewhat childish.  Were they fighting or just playing?  Nevertheless,
they were careful in their approach to the CERN facility, having driven north
from Geneva following their arrival.

As they entered Building 40,
wearing the fake security badges Ibrahim had provided for them, the second
agent caught his breath and whispered, “This is truly a mosque of Satan
worship.  Look at its dome, mocking that of the Blue Mosque.  I only wish I
could stay here to see its destruction!”

The first agent had also
noticed the large glass dome and magnificent extent of the building’s lobby.
“We must not make ourselves conspicuous.  Let’s find our way down to the ATLAS
detector.”

The two had dressed in casual
Western clothing in order to blend in with the visiting physicists from around
the world.  They were not stopped as they made their way down to the
underground accelerator tunnel.  The specified control room was easily located,
but, indeed, the door was locked.  As one kept watch, the other began working
on the lock.  Twice during this lock-picking they were interrupted by a passing
researcher.  In both of these encounters, the two stood in quiet but animated
discussion in Farsi, hoping that the passerby would think they were discussing
magnetic fields or particles.  They were not challenged and eventually the lock
yielded.  The two agents quickly entered the control room and closed the door,
locking it from the inside.

The control monitor and
computer were of a standard type and were activated by the push of a power
button on the front of the processor.  The password that Ibrahim had given them
enabled the control program to open.  Inserting the flash drive into the USB
port, the ISIS agent watched as a small download-and-install window opened,
indicating that the virus was entering and being installed into the control
program.