Viper: A Thriller (13 page)

Germany’s GSG-9 instructed their operators, and
lectured foreign counterparts, to always shoot female terrorists first in a
combat situation. After over a decade taking down Red Army Faction and PLO
terror cells, the Germans found the women to be far more aggressive, colder,
equipped with faster reflexes, and far more eager to kill civilian hostages or
bystanders than were their male peers, and this was largely the experience of
the Colombian military, too, in regards to FARC. Women needed to be cold and
ruthless to survive in violent male-dominated extremist organizations.

And Avery thought that certainly explained how Arianna
Moreno became the Viper.

“Yeah,” he said, “so let’s get to work and find her before
she reaches the States.”

Seven hours later, the German-made Do
228 twin-turboprop, needle-nosed utility plane’s wheels hit the dirt-paved
runway at a remote military outpost in southwestern Venezuela. It was a hard
landing, given the required steepness of the ascent due to the forest of
seventy-foot tall kapok trees surrounding the outpost.

The military
outpost was fifty miles from FARC-controlled land in eastern Colombia. From
here weapons were flown in and delivered past the border, and cocaine came in
from Colombia or Bolivia. Normally Venezuela merely acted as the middleman in
arming FARC. The Central High Command purchased the weapons and paid a fee to
the right officials in Caracas to facilitate delivery through Venezuelan
territory and the rainforest, where the American spy satellites’ coverage was
obscured by the layers of jungle canopy.  

Furthermore, for
a cost, the Russians provided tracking and telemetry data of American
reconnaissance satellites to Caracas, who then relayed it to the Central High
Command’s intelligence staff, allowing FARC to transport weapons and equipment
along its supply lines when they knew there’d be no satellites overhead.

Hydraulics
whined as the Do 228’s cargo lamp lowered.

The Viper
climbed out the back of the plane’s small, stifling cabin with Durante on her
heels. His orders were to keep her in sight until she’d left the Bolivarian
Republic for the final time.

It felt good to
see the jungle again, swathed in the familiar tropical heat and humidity, breathing
in the dense, musky scent of dirt and plants, and feeling the occasional warm
mist spray against her face.

 In a heavily
populated urban area, the Viper’s training kicked in and her mind went into
overdrive, assessing possible targets, monitoring police activity, looking for
potential sniper hides, where to place a bomb to cause the most damage, and
preparing escape routes.

In the jungle
she felt at home, far removed from the revolting sights and sounds of humanity,
and the animosity those things invited. She’d understood from an early age, at
the peasant village in which she grew up, that she didn’t belong in society.
Even when she’d enlisted in the people’s army, following Aarón so that she
would not be left behind, she never really belonged, but she’d at least found a
sense of purpose and an outlet for her anger and hatred.

Arianna Moreno
could recall the precise moment the Viper was born, when she accepted that by
nature and design she was something inherently different from other people. At
the training camps, one instructor, a veteran of Guatemala’s internationally
condemned Kaibil Battalion, provided each of his trainees with a puppy to take
care of. After three weeks passed, time enough for even the most hardened
guerilla fighter to form some attachment to their dog, the Guatemalan ordered
the recruits to slice the throats of their puppies. The sole female in the
group, Arianna was the only one to follow the order without hesitation or
question. She found the puppy pathetic as it helplessly whimpered and squirmed
in its death throes, and it made her understand the weakness that attachments
and empathy instilled in men.

The sudden
recollection surprised Arianna, and she wondered why she thought about that
now. She had little place for reflection or memories. She’d barely given
thought to Aarón over the past week. There was no point in clouding her mind
with memories and feelings. He was simply gone and no more. She’d never hear
his voice again or feel the comfort of his embrace or the warmth of his flesh inside
her. He was reduced to memories, which, like dreams, were simply abstract
products of the mind and became less clear over time. Like dreams, memories
were useless things, left for the sentimental and the weak, and Arianna Moreno
thought that there was nothing weak about the Viper.

The backfire of
an engine snapped her out of her reverie. Standing beside her, Durante said
something, but she didn’t hear him as a Russian-made UAZ-469 open-top jeep
pulled up alongside the airstrip, kicking up a cloud of dust and belching dark
exhaust fumes into the air. A man jumped down from the back of the jeep and
approached Durante and the Viper.

He was in his
fifties with an olive complexion, short graying hair, a salt-and-pepper beard,
and a long, angular face with narrow, deep set eyes and a sharp nose. He wore
fading blue jeans and a white shirt with the top four buttons undone and the
sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His shirt was damp with sweat, and he dabbed
a handkerchief at his face; a man not acclimated to the tropical climate.

Colonel Vahid
Kashani served in the Quds Force of the
Seppah e-Pasdaran
, Iran’s
Revolutionary Guard Corps. He was a veteran of conflicts and covert actions in Azerbaijan,
Bosnia, Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria, having spent his entire adult life in service
of the ayatollahs.

The
Revolutionary Guard is the military branch tasked with protecting Iran’s
revolutionary Shiite clerical government. The Quds Force, or Jerusalem Force,
is the special operations unit of the Revolutionary Guards, responsible for
covert operations in foreign countries. This included coordinating, training,
and supplying terrorist and insurgent groups like Hezbollah in Lebanon or the
Mahdi Army in Iraq. Quds Force introduced explosively formed projectiles into
the Iraq Theater, a weapon whose molten copper slug proved brutally effective
against American tanks and armored personnel carriers, and Quds Force continued
to augment Assad’s forces in Syria’s civil war.

Quds Force was
also responsible for recent bomb attacks against Israeli diplomats in Georgia,
India and Thailand in retaliation for Mossad’s assassination of Iranian nuclear
scientists, and Quds Force was linked to the failed plot to assassinate the
Saudi ambassador to Washington, DC. It also maintained a small presence in
Latin America as Iran strengthened its relationships with Venezuela and
Bolivia, training and advising military and police units to combat internal
opposition. In the Triple Frontier, the tri-border junction of Argentina,
Brazil and Paraguay, Quds Force ran paramilitary training camps. In Mexico and
Central America, they established links with the drug cartels to smuggle
personnel and weapons into the United States. In 2013, JSOC and the Defense
Intelligence Agency (DIA) neutralized a Revolutionary Guard/Hezbollah money
laundering and drug trafficking operation in Paraguay.

Colonel Vahid
Kashani and Durante greeted each other with handshakes. Then Durante introduced
the Viper as an acquisitions representative of FARC, but she sensed that he
knew something more. They spoke in English, since it was a shared language. The
Viper noted that Kashani’s eyes did not frequently and salaciously shift over
to her, stealing glances at her body, as men invariably did. When Kashani
addressed her, he looked her directly in the eyes.

She’d met
Iranians before, instructors at the FARC camps, and found them to be highly
disciplined men, deeply committed to their cause, and for that she respected
them, but she thought their religious devotion was misplaced, men driven by a
non-existent entity, the product of superstition.

“It is a
pleasure as always to see you, Durante. I hate to be rude, but I wish to speak
with Captain Moreno alone,” Kashani announced after the formalities.

Durante
hesitated. His orders from Caracas were quite clear about staying with the
Viper at all times, but there was nothing he could do, and he could not offend
Caracas’s political partners, so he smiled, capitulated, and said, “Of course.”

Arianna got into
the back of the jeep with Kashani.

They drove a
short distance across the military outpost, following a narrow, winding unpaved
road through the rainforest to the ramshackle hut where Kashani stayed. A small
satellite dish on the roof was the only touch of modernity. He ushered her
inside and flipped on a fan.

“I will be
direct with you, woman,” Kashani said. “I know exactly who and what you are. Given
recent intelligence reports from multiple sources, and the weapons you seek
from me, I also have a fair idea of what you are planning.”

 “And?”  

“I am willing to
provide you ten missiles at no cost. I will also provide you current intelligence
on American domestic security and airports.”

Arianna was
skeptical, especially after how her former sponsors, one after another, had cut
her off and turned their backs to her. “What do you expect in return, if not
money?”

“Quite simply, I
expect for you to do exactly as you have planned. To that effect, I am willing
to provide certain assistance within reason.”

“I don’t
understand how you benefit.”

“It’s obvious,
is it not?” Kashani said. “Ten aircraft brought down inside the United States
will cause significant damage to the American economy, political landscape, and
national psyche. It will degrade the resolve of their citizens, who already grow
tired of electing into office officials who seek to fight perpetual wars and
bankrupt their treasury. Your desire to strike our mutual enemy now presents a
unique opportunity for my country, one with limited risk and high reward.”

“Then why not do
it yourself? What’s the catch?”

“Well, you will
understand if I cannot completely turn over these weapons to you. My country is
making an investment in your operation, and we need to ensure our return. I
will provide you with a trained operative, a man whose sole purpose in life,
endowed upon him by forces far greater than you can ever understand, is to wage
war against the Great Satan. He will provide…” Kashani paused as he thought of
the right word. “He will provide guidance and advisory assistance, but will not
interfere.”

 “I have my own
people,” the Viper said. “They wait for me in Colombia. They are every bit as
skilled as any agent you have. More important, I know them, and I can trust
them with my life. I cannot say the same for someone who I do not know, an
outsider whose loyalties lay with Tehran.”

“Your position
is understandable, but you really should be careful who within FARC you trust.
I can also tell you that Durante and the Venezuelans are not your friends. Andrés
Flores is interested only in his own survival. He will sell you out the minute
it becomes expedient for him to do so.”

“You think I did
not already know that? I’m not an amateur or a fool, so don’t insult my
intelligence or question my abilities.”  

“Then I’m sure
you already know that Timoshenko recently had a private meeting with Flores to
specifically discuss you. In fact, I believe Flores is awaiting your return,
along with those friends of yours. Why do you think Durante is so eager to
personally see you off? He’s going to notify Flores the instant you are on your
way.”

Kashani let his
words hang in the air, and he saw the flash of doubt in Arianna’s eyes.

She thought of
the FARC truck on the airstrip nearby, waiting to deliver her and the missiles
across the border, now her only way out of the country.  

“I do not need
your people to look after me,” she finally said, but she was grateful for the
warning, and her mind was already working out what she needed to do next.

“Indeed, you are
skilled,” Kashani acknowledged, “I meant you no offense, and I will pray for
your success, but distance yourself from your ego. You cannot do this alone. It
is very simple. If you want SA-24, my agent will accompany you.”

Kashani’s tone
indicated there was no room for negotiation. The Viper didn’t respond. She
didn’t need to. They both knew she had no choice.

Kashani said, “You
can meet my agent in Bogotá, assuming you will make it there.”

___

The Viper travelled in a six-wheel-drive,
army green FAP cargo truck. A FARC soldier drove, with two more riding in the
back with two dozen SA-24s in transit cases secured in place with cargo netting.
Fourteen of the missiles, the first scheduled batch of the Libyan SA-24s to
FARC, were to be supplied to the 34
^th
Front, which controlled
northeastern Colombia. 

Tree branches
scrapped across the sides of the truck as it traversed the narrow, muddy path
running through the rainforest. Twenty feet back, a tailing jeep carried
Durante and three Venezuelan soldiers.

It was almost an
hour drive from the Venezuelan military outpost to the border. Along the way,
they were stopped once by an army checkpoint, and were allowed to pass after
Durante spoke with the soldiers. Venezuelan soldiers were all over the border
after Operation Phoenix. Once past the checkpoint, there was no other vehicular
traffic, and they had to stop only once, to allow a group of peasants to cross
the path with their donkey-drawn carts.

There were no
clear border markings, and the Viper knew they’d entered Colombia only after
the jeep abruptly stopped and turned around at a point where there was
sufficient width in the road to do so. Durante used GPS to follow their route, and
with the Viper on Colombian soil, his job was completed.

The driver made
no effort to engage the Viper in conversation, appearing noticeably uneasy
around her. She was grateful for the silence, but the man’s apprehension
aroused her suspicions. As time passed, she noticed the driver’s breathing
become heavier. His shoulders tensed up, and his knuckles whitened around the
wheel, while his eyes wavered, constantly flickering in her direction. The change
in behavior was sufficient to activate her internal threat receptors.