Secret of the Oil: Prequel to the Donavan Chronicles (11 page)

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 had 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 rounds were ineffective at that range for pistols.

Matt took one last look and realized that there was no way his team could rapidly penetrate into the small restaurant area with at least four, presumably all armed, men defending the door, with good fields of fire down the street and occupying good defendable positions.

“Everyone back to the van. Now!”

When all the team members were safely in side the van, Gary gunned the engine and they headed to the embassy.

Not a complete success, but it was 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 enemy actually 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.

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.

TEWFIK AL-HANBALI – AT THE RESTAURANT

8:55PM – 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, was 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 was to 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 that this was a 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 that is 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 remember 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 was easy to believe what the Imam was teaching 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 was the only 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 turned quickly, 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 was doing so, he noticed that 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 possibly getting a sight of the license plate. But he was 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 was a bleeding red beet. They left him sprawled on the street and both jumped into the vehicle and raced after the rapidly disappearing van. Faisal kept his distance once the van was within view.

His efforts paid off when he saw it enter the American Embassy. Now he knew exactly who the attackers were. 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 was something utterly unexpected, and they took a few moments to comprehend the extent of the damage that 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 possibly 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 mouth 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 had happened.

"But before the Americans hit us, we got a complete briefing on the plan for using this atomic bomb that is currently under construction in Saudi Arabia. We have supported this operation in order to get to the final phase. They believe that 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 will 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 that 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 was an expert sharpshooter by the time he was 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 that he thought would enable the destruction of Israel.

Faisal remembered the stories his father told from the days when Palestine existed as their homeland, and he remained determined that he would make it their land again. It might take another generation, maybe two, maybe three. In the end that land, known today as Israel, would again be Palestine.

He had seen the ways of the West and had attended university in Germany. He could speak three languages quite fluently and was adept even in Hebrew: he had made himself learn the language so that he could know his enemies better. When he returned home, he told them all how he despised the Western world for its consummate obsession with sex, gluttony, political corruption, and its ungodly attitude towards religion. At the top of his list, the hatred of the Jewish state filled every fiber of his being.

AT AL-HANBALI’S HOUSE, SAUDI ARABIA

ON HIS RETURN FROM BEIRUT

When the wheels of the plane touched down in Riyadh, al-Hanbali awoke. Now real problems needed his total concentration. One key member, Kemal, was surely dead. Fortunately, the Iranian had set in motion his part of the operation before the meeting. The material he promised should arrive today. Al-Hanbali must oversee the quick completion of his plan to deprive the Western world of its oil supply.

After the five-hour drive from Riyadh to Ayun, the small city to the northwest of the capital in central Saudi Arabia, he arrived at a compound he called his home.

“Hello, Basam.” Al-Hanbali greeted his younger brother on entering the house. Al-Hanbali deeply respected Basam for his dedication to their cause.

“Tewfik, your phone call didn’t tell us much. What happened in Beirut?” Basam asked.

“Somehow, we were betrayed. We’ll have to check everybody; someone must have talked. Whoever attacked us knew about the meeting. Most likely, it was one of Faisal’s or Kemal’s thugs.” Al-Hanbali walked out of the house and headed for a secluded sandy brown building about fifty meters down the hill from the main house. The main structure stood atop a knoll about five meters higher than the surrounding terrain. The house had its own water supply and a basement with food and an arsenal of various types of weapons.

Tewfik had built this structure away from the main house for the explicit purpose of housing the atomic material. He placed the building in a small ravine on a gentle slope leading downhill from the house and away from the view of any visitors. Even this late, Yuri should be working on the weapon’s construction. After considering all the events in Beirut, he knew for sure that Yuri did not betray them, since he had not known about the Beirut meeting. He entered the building and greeted Yuri with a warm smile and a firm handshake. Yuri had arrived there the day after he met with him in Moscow. His younger brother, Basam, met Yuri and transported him to their house. The material from Iran had arrived that morning.

“Yuri, what is the progress on the weapon? Is there anything you need?”

"Tewfik, glad to see you have gotten back safely. But to the subject at hand, as I told you, this laboratory of yours is not exactly the type of place we need to construct this weapon. But to answer your question, yes, I can.”

Al-Hanbali’s greatest concern now vaporized. “I need to get the bomb built and delivered to the target within twelve days. Any longer will put the whole plan in danger as many people would get involved, and someone might talk. Can you have it ready for me by then?”

Yuri walked around the table and pointed at the diagrams on the table.

“I am doing the best I can, but we are not in a Russian nuclear facility for constructing and assembling weapons. Some of the highly sophisticated equipment they use is not here. But I assure what we do have will suffice and I’ll work around the other problems."

“Do you believe the material we acquired in the canister is of sufficient quality and quantity for our purposes?"

"I think it will be, but you must now tell me what you are really after and the target. This canister that you procured contains fourteen kilos of enriched uranium, U-235. We only need about eight for the size bomb that I am planning. There are some other things that I’ll need. Maybe if I explain a little it will help you understand the whole process." Yuri went around the table, opened up a notebook and put it in front of al-Hanbali to show him the design of the fusion bomb he was working on.

“The real power behind the bomb arises from the coming together of two equal masses with force. The masses are the enriched uranium. Natural uranium, the element U-238, is a heavy metal, heavier than gold, malleable like gold, and it has some of the largest atoms of any natural element. It has more neutrons and protons, and that has an important bearing on its capacity to create an explosion.

“The Iranians took U-238 to make the isotope U-235,” Yuri continued, “which has atoms that can be split, and therefore usable in making atomic bombs. We will have two spheres that contain a specific amount of U-235. We will keep the two apart until an explosion rapidly pushes them together. Moreover, the exact speed with which these two masses must come together, along with the desired compression ratio, are secrets closely controlled by the governments. My knowledge of those secrets is really why you are paying me.” He smiled at Tewfik.

Tewfik looked at Yuri with a face that showed complete resignation to the fact that he did not fully comprehend it all.

“Go on,” Tewfik said.

“Then, when these two masses collide, that will cause the atomic explosion. This progression does not take place arithmetically but geometrically. All this happens in one millionth of a second. The minimum amount to start a chain reaction, called super critical mass, is the primary element in my design.” Yuri went over to where the coffee was standing and poured a cup. He signaled to al-Hanbali to see if he wanted one. Al-Hanbali did not.

"Using the equipment here in the workshop, I have been able to separate the amount of uranium we need for a detonation giving us fifty kilotons of explosive power. Now I need you to procure for us ten kilos of C4 explosive and detonators. To initiate the explosion I need a remote detonating device such as a wireless radio transmitter and receiver or a radio-controlled servo would suffice. Either system must be set so that its motion pushes a plunger into the detonator. A cell phone can be rigged to initiate the entire process.”

"That should be no problem. I’ll order my men to get that for you tomorrow," said al-Hanbali. “By the way, what is the explosive force of the weapon you are making? I don’t understand all that you have said, so put it in simple terms for me. What will we get from the explosion?”

“The explosive force of an atom bomb can range from one kiloton, which equals one thousand tons of TNT, to as high as many megatons, which is enough to wipe out New York City and everything within thirty miles. We can’t make our weapon have that kind of power because of the size limitations you specified,” Yuri said.

“What can I expect from our explosion?”

"The explosion you will set off should create a hole about a mile wide and destroy everything on the surface within ten miles. If you want to be safe, you will need to be further than that from ground zero. Will that give you what you want?”

Al-Hanbali nodded his approval.

“You said you wanted it to be small in size. So, I am making a container that is the size of a large case, which I can line with lead just as an additional safety precaution. I think the entire cylinder will be approximately fourteen inches long and eight inches across and should not weigh more than twenty kilos. Maybe twenty-five altogether." Yuri flipped to the next page in a notebook. It showed a drawing of what he visualized the product would look like.

Al-Hanbali felt elated. This was going to work. He had the right material at the right place at the right time to make all of this come together. It looked as if there would even be some material left over.

Based on the remaining quantity of uranium, he now imagined using it to sink another weapon into the depths of the Saudi oil reserves and detonate it. The contamination of these fields with radiation would drive the western economies to the brink, maybe even beyond the brink, of economic catastrophe.

“Yuri, can you make two bombs from the enriched material you have? I can get any materials you might need to do that.”

“Of course. It might take a day or two longer and there is the possibility of three bombs depending on what you want to use them for. But, you hired me for only one.”

“Then I see that the possibility of more money is now driving you. Okay. Let’s agree on an additional five million.”

“Done,” said Yuri.

While Yuri continued to work on the development of the bomb, al-Hanbali decided that he must continue his plans for delivery of the weapons. As an afterthought, he knew that he had to call Faisal in Beirut to see if they knew anything about who was responsible for the ambush, or even if Faisal was still alive. Faisal, in his estimation, was definitely not someone he could entirely trust, especially after the events in Beirut, which certainly indicated a betrayal by someone.

It was a few minutes after ten and his tri-band phone rang.

* * * *

"Hello," said al-Hanbali, answering the phone.

"Tewfik, my brother, it is Faisal. I am calling to see if you are all right."

"Yes. We are now safely at home. I do not know what happened, but I think we have a major problem. Somebody talked.” Al-Hanbali waited for a response or a denial from Faisal. None came.

“It would not be wise to have another meeting. I’ll inform you when we're ready to move the item. I have the location selected and our timetable is two weeks. May I suggest you do a thorough examination of your security?" Al-Hanbali said this trying to contain the bitterness in his voice.

"Tewfik, my organization did not have a leak. The Americans hit us; I followed them to their embassy. There is no doubt that they knew about the meeting. I can hear the insinuation in your voice, and I deeply resent it. I’ll check my men, and I encourage you to do the same on your part. We must trust one another, and we must accomplish our goal," Faisal said with emphasis.

"Faisal, I swear by Allah, the Merciful, the Just, that I did not mean to insult you. The Americans seem to know too much. I must hurry and get this accomplished before something else happens. I’ll speak to you in five days to tell you where and when we are moving the item. Allah be with you."

"And with you, my brother."

* * * *

Faisal closed the phone. He felt a little better after the conversation with Tewfik al-Hanbali. He would be able to accomplish his plans within the same period. After putting the phone in his pocket, he returned to their room, where the others were waiting.

To end the briefing with his group, he declared, “We will go to Saudi Arabia and get the weapon.” They all cheered, and Faisal continued. "I personally volunteer to take this weapon into the heart of Israel."