The God Complex: A Thriller (19 page)

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Authors: Murray McDonald

BOOK: The God Complex: A Thriller
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***

The Takavar troops lay prone amongst the bushes when the four hill walkers passed them. The Iranian Special Forces team was amongst the elite of the Iranian forces and answered only to the supreme leader himself.

“Targets have just passed us,” the Takavar troop leader
whispered into his headset. His seven men awaited his orders.

The alert had been raised at the border a couple of hours earlier by the border guard. On any other day
, the alert would have been ignored. However, given the nuclear disarmament treaty, the Iranians were under no illusion that the Israelis would not attempt a strike to disable their capabilities, resulting in the dispatch of the Takavar troops to detain the spies.

“They are now setting up a picnic with a clear line of sight down the access road. Should we take them now
?”

The leader
’s fist remained closed. His men remained still. His orders were to hold until told otherwise.

***

The picnic venue was spectacular, a small hilltop overlooking a green valley that ran towards looming mountains in the distance. A road cut through the valley and disappeared off into the mountainside. The picnic was unpacked as planned with two containers being set off to their side. The front of each of the containers was pointed in opposite directions, one towards the road and the other one hundred and eighty degrees in the other direction.

To anyone looking, they looked exactly like every other Tupperware container they had unpacked.

Small pinholes, almost invisible to the naked eye, were set into the side of each of the two containers, both shining invisible laser beams into the distance, at exact and precise angles.

Hannah donned her sunglasses and thanks to the lenses could see the two laser beams shooting off in opposite directions.

“Okay?” asked Avi.

“Yes,” said Hannah
.

Avi
opened a bottle of champagne and poured a bit for everyone. “To a nuclear free world!” he toasted.

***

 
Nevatim Air
Base, Israel

 

“Sir, they have deployed the laser guidance system,” announced one of the air traffic controllers.

“Are we in position?”

A number of affirmative answers echoed around the room.

“Commence the attack, in three, two, one, go!”

A clock began the countdown; ten minutes to strike.

Eight targets were highlighted on the Iranian map, each one correlating to an Iranian
nuclear facility with the potential to further Iran’s nuclear capability. All eight targets were to be struck in unison.; four aircraft to each site with eight to Chalus. It was to be a decisive attack with overwhelming force to ensure the Iranians were not about to become the only nuclear armed state in the world, something that Israel could not and would not accept, under any circumstances.

***

Chalus, Iran

 

The Takavar leader was becoming increasingly nervous. Something was amiss and he was doing nothing.

“What are our orders?” he asked again over his headset.

“Wait until further orders,” came the terse reply.

“They
’re doing something!” he said. His men were as keen as he was to defend their nation against whoever these spies were. And from the look of them, he was guessing they were Israeli or American.

“Wait
. Do nothing until ordered,” came a voice he recognized and would never question.

***

 

F-35 Squadron Leader - Chalus

 

“Base, we have acquired guidance system, on course to drop in one minute.”

“Roger, Chalus leader, sixty seconds, you are a go for release.”

“Roger.”

***

 

Tehran, Iran

 

The air defense map showed the location of the forty F-35 strike aircraft. The Iranian equipment was not quite as outdated as their American and Israeli counterparts thought it was. A number of missile launchers were silently tracking each and every one of the Israeli jets and had been since they had crossed Iranian borders. The Sayyad-2 missiles, unlike the specifications leaked, were more than capable of downing the F-35s, particularly given the vast number that were being utilized.

“It looks like they are about to strike,” advised the
head of the Armed Forces to his small audience, the supreme leader and President of Iran.

He looked agitated.
“Should we strike now?”

“No,” replied the
supreme leader with a nod of agreement from the President. The two men had a plan of which only they were aware.

“They are about to lay waste to our nuclear ambitions,” argued the military head
. The board lit up with warnings as hundreds of munitions were launched from the forty fighters.

The supreme leader smiled.
“Actually, they have just secured them.” He stood and led the President out of the room.

“What about retaliation?”

“No,” said the President. “Not possible, they have to think we didn’t have a chance.”


And the spies?” asked the military chief.

“Capture them, they’ll be useful later,” said the
President. “They’ll have witnessed Chalus’ destruction.”

***

 

Chalus, Iran

 

T
he first bomb swooped over their heads and crashed onto the road surface, almost immediately followed by another seven. It was a bizarre sight. The large bombs cracked against the surface of the road and bounced, skimming off the surface and down the road, each subsequent bounce reducing in height and distance. It was easily a mile to the entrance to the tunnel ahead but the bombs followed each other’s path very precisely. The World War II bouncing bomb had its modern equivalent. Only these were designed to a far higher specification and required far less skill to pilot.

The two boxes did all of the targeting work
. The first gave the optimal angle for the bomb to follow on its way in, while the second pinpointed the ultimate target - the underground storage facility for the Iranian nuclear arsenal, buried deep inside a 16,000 foot mountain.

The eight bombs struck at different times but all waited for the last to arrive before dispelling
its explosive might. Even though protected from the main blast that was contained within the mountain a little over a mile away, Avi and his team were still thrown off their feet by the overwhelming force of the combined explosions.

By the time they were back
up, each had two Heckler & Koch G36 sub machine guns pointing at them.

“Shit!” said Avi, looking into the faces of eight very pissed looking Iranians.

Chapter 34

 

 

President Mitchell shared a toast in the Oval
Office with the Vice President, Senator Noble and the Secretary of Defense.

“Gentlem
en,” he said, raising his glass, “to the Israelis.”

“The Israelis
,” they all chorused.

T
he news report playing in the background relayed to the public the United States’ outrage at the unwarranted act of aggression by the same people they were toasting.

A knock on the door preceded the entry of CIA Director Travis Davies.

“Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, Mr. Secretary, Senator,” he greeted each as he walked across the office.

“Any news?”

“We’ve recovered another three bodies from the Potomac. They’ve been positively ID’d as three of the four men who posed as Secret Service agents and kidnapped the Speaker. We presume the fourth man killed them. They’ve all been identified as foreign guns for hire. Paperwork on them links them to the terrorists, so it is all connected. As for the main terrorist group, the twenty Afghans, we can find no links to any of the major terrorist networks. Nobody’s claiming responsibility. It’s as if they acted alone.”

“Impossible
,” said the Vice President. “The complexity of what they engineered, the evidence against us?!” He waved around the room. “The connections, the paperwork, the weapons? It goes on and on, this wasn’t twenty Afghani fighters working alone.”


What about the two CIA guys?” asked the Secretary of Defense, much to Travis’s embarrassment. “Perhaps they masterminded it?”

Travis opened his mouth but was cut off by Senator Noble. “I’d vouch for those men personally, they had nothing to do with this. I’ve met them many times through our committee’s work and there
aren’t two more loyal men in our service,” he said proudly.

“Well thank you
, Senator. Unfortunately your words are a little too late and somewhat surprising given your help in tracking them down.”

“My words stand
. So much so, that I staked my reputation on them,” he said, taking another drink. It was the final complication left after his attempted coup.

“You staked your reputation on shooting down my two men
?”

“Technically, I never gave the order. Jim Walker gave that order, it was not for me to give.”

“Okay, you never technically ordered their plane down but I believe you arranged the situation that allowed it to happen.”

“Those men would never have harmed this country
. Unlike you guys, they were not in safe custody, they were facing the wrath of every vigilante or trigger happy cop in the land.”

“So you shot them out
of the sky?” asked the President, incredulous as to what the Senator was trying to say.

“No, I made the world
think
we had shot them out of the sky.”

The room silenced as they processed the Senator
’s words.

“You didn’t shoot them out
of the sky?”

“A little
sleight of hand with our friends down at Creech Air Force Base.”

“Creech?” asked the Secretary
. “You shot down a drone?”

“Well
, it was an aircraft, but a pilotless one.”

“So my guys are
okay?” asked Travis, smiling for the first time in hours.

“I assume so
,” said the Senator.

“Assume?”

“Given I have no idea where they are now, it’s all I can say, but they’re not being hunted so…”

“They’ll be fine
then,” said Travis. He was elated. “They can look after themselves.”

“Now you must excuse me,” said Senator Noble
. “I have a number of calls I need to make.”

“Of course,”
said the Vice President.

“Senator
?” said Travis, chasing him out into the corridor.

“Yes
, Mr. Davies?” said the Senator, slowing down reluctantly; he was keen to get away.

“We think the malfunction in the PEOC was a deliberate attempt on your life,”
Travis said.

Another bonus, Antoine’s actions to kill
Bertie had added to his alibi.

“I assumed it was
. They wanted us
all
dead.”

“Yes,” replied Travis automatically
. “And thanks again for my guys, that was quick thinking and clever work!”

Senator Noble nodded with a smile, accepting the thanks but could see the questioning look in Travis’ eye. He wasn’t fully buying the Senator’s bullshit.

“I’m not sure if you knew, but my niece, Anya, was great friends with Professor Harris at university. It’s made me keep an extra special eye on young Cash,” said the Senator, leaving Travis to ponder that additional nugget of information.

“I never knew that
,” said Travis, watching the Senator stride away, his cell phone already at his ear.

“Conrad!” said Senator Noble
into the phone when his less powerful nephew answered.

“Uncle Bertie!” exclaimed Conrad in surprise
. Antoine had not told him what was to be done with him.

“I owe you a heads up, I need to cover up the assassins still being alive.”

“I thought you killed them?”

“No, what made you think that?”

“You. You called and told me you had sorted that problem,” he said.

“As in the hunt, I stopped the hunt.”

“There was a news report they were shot down,” said Conrad.

“All a sham
. Anyway, I had a lot going on, you obviously didn’t get the right end of the stick.”

“Yes you did and I didn’t have an end to choose
from, you only gave me one, the problem was fixed.”

“Yes, they weren’t being hunted.”

“Whatever,” said Conrad in frustration. “I need to get my team looking for them.”

“Are they not already
? Antoine will be—” began the Senator, goading his nephew.

“Don’t even try
it. This is
your
fault,” Conrad cut in, finally losing his patience.

“Well you’d better hurry
. The CIA is as keen to find them as you are!” Bertie reached his car, a rueful smile on his face. His driver opened the door for him, revealing a dark haired beauty in her mid-twenties. Her skin glowed, revealing a Mediterranean heritage. Her eyes, dark and gleaming, were intoxicating. Her hair was swept tightly back against her head into a ponytail. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Hi,” he said, breaking into a smile, unable to escape her captivating eyes.

“Antoine sent me,” she said coldly.

The Senator’s smile disappeared. She was a killer. A member of an elite and very select band of assassins. Very few knew they existed
, and even fewer had the ability to contact them. As old as the Noble family, they had been in the business of killing almost as long as the Nobles had been in business.

“Get in,” she said.

“You’re going to kill me,” he said, his voice shaking.

“If that
were the case, you’d already be dead. I’m to chaperone you until told otherwise.”

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