Tracks (45 page)

“Let’s talk to the experts,
then
decide if we need more corroboration,” Kessler
suggested, moving back into the living-room asking for attention.

After five hours of
deliberation, the consensus was to go after Abu Salah.  It was risky since
any such organization had the means to perform such evil, but Al Qaida were a
step above the rest.  They had pockets of collaborators everywhere, most
notably in the US, something other groups were less known for.  Both
Hezbollah and Islamic Jihad operated on a Middle East domestic level, while Al
Qaida operated globally.  That did not mean the three groups would refrain
from cooperating amongst themselves, which they probably did, but to find a
trail to Sons of Jihad, it seemed Al Qaida was the key.

Fleming and Collins agreed
with the analysis and offered to do a quick cross-reference with some of their
sources, while Kessler was authorized to relay the instructions to his
source. 

*****

The Empire State building was
an icon among icons in New York City and the world.  It regularly amazed
Sam as he approached on Ave of the Americas, as the building loomed larger and
larger the closer he got to it from the uptown side.  It was classic
architecture, its columns and shades giving it
a permanent
thirties
look.

On the top floor the view was
spectacular, Manhattan Island sprawled in all directions, beyond it the four
boroughs, New Jersey, and Long Island.  If only he could see Beirut from
there, he kept thinking.

The restaurant, seventy-eight
floors up, was a favorite meeting place for him and Jack when they wanted
privacy away from the daily hassles of the Center.

Black Jack Preston, now almost
fully recovered from his ordeals in the desert, and Mike Devlin were there
drinking red wine in a corner booth reserved in advance.

It had been roughly four
months since their return from the Middle East and they were in the midst of
their toughest and most trying venture.

To Sam it seemed things were
moving in slow motion and had to gather all his self-control and patience to
allow the plan to materialize.  He was constantly on edge as he tried to
keep a close watch on the events taking place far and away from
him.   

“Any
word from Kessler?”
Jack inquired, as Sam took a seat and
poured himself a glass.

“They have a lead,” Sam
said.  “They had a big meeting in Tel Aviv. He’s on his way north and
wouldn’t say more on the phone.”

“But it’s a secure line,” Jack
protested, gulping his wine down thirstily.

“No line is secure as far as
Kessler is concerned,” Sam said.  “Besides, we will have the full brief at
the consulate tomorrow morning.”

Sam blew out an exasperated
sigh and looked around for the waitress.  “I can’t take this much longer,”
he complained, signaling the waitress over.

“You won’t have to,” Jack
commented, trying to appease his troubled friend.  “It seems they’re on
the right track.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said
pouring more wine to all three glasses.  “I just wish there was something
I could physically do to ease my mind a little.”

The waitress came over and
they spent the next five minutes deciding what to eat.

“What’s happening at your
end?” Sam asked Devlin, after the waitress left with their orders.

“Lizzy and Jimmy are in
Cyprus,” Devlin informed him.  “They managed to get a boat.  Quite a
fast one I might add.  They are tending to it and will be ready if we need
them.  The rest are waiting at the base near Inverness.  Ali’s
keeping them in shape.”

“Any
new
intel
?”

“Copeland and Long-John
managed to intercept some short wave radio chatter inside Beirut but nothing of
interest so far.”

“Any satellite action?”

“Just the usual reconnaissance
aerial data from the NASA links.  The place seems awfully quiet these days
except for Israeli fighter jets patrolling over there almost every day now.”

“How does that help us?” Sam sighed,
reaching for the wine bottle again.

"They could be
photographing the area with their reconnaissance jets and acquiring data that
may be of help to us," Devlin remarked.

"Let's hope," Sam
sighed again, "anything else?"

“I’ve contacted a friend who can
help us with forged passports,” Devlin added.

“That’s good,” Sam said. 
“How fast can he do the work?”

“Depends
on how many we need, but he’s not cheap.”

“Say we need ten. How fast can
he do them?”

“It’s roughly two days per
passport, three thousand each,” Devlin stated.

“With that kind of money I can
buy real ones on the black market.”

“They are real
passports.  He only changes the photos.”

“And for that he needs two
days each?  How good is he?”

“Recommended and
cross-referenced by several top people I know.”

“Can we bargain with
him?  Thirty thousand dollars is mighty steep.”

“
It’s
thirty thousand pounds,” Devlin corrected him. “He works in the UK.”

“What type of passports do we
need?”  Jack asked.

“I’d say anything from Eastern
Europe will suffice,” Devlin said.

“But won’t we have to know the
language?” Sam asked.

“Broken English will do just
fine,” Devlin stated.  “They don’t normally bother with Eastern Europeans
in Lebanon. They do, however, give British and Americans hell.”

“OK, do it,” Sam said. 
“And don’t forget to get him photos of Lizzy and Jimmy as well.”

“I’ll take care of that,”
Devlin said.

“Who are you planning to take,
Mike?" Jack inquired.

“I don’t know yet. 
Depends on how this develops.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said. “I’ll
get
you
passport photos of Mai-Li, Natasha and
myself.  Jack will run things from here and stay in touch with Kessler.”

“What about Christine? 
How’s she doing?”  Devlin asked.

“Oh, I doubt she’ll be part of
this,” Sam said.  “She needs a while to recover, just like old Jack here.”

The food arrived and they ate
in silence for a while.  Sam thought of Elena.  He now had two good
reasons to worry himself sick over.  He had not heard from her since she
had called him from Athens before she boarded the plane to Beirut.

It was now eight days.

The only contact they had
was
through Kessler who would send confidential reports to
the Israeli Consulate in New York where Sam would be given time to read
them.  The same report would be sent to CIA headquarters at Langley and
the Israeli Consulate in London where it would be passed on to the British
Ministry of Defence.

Kessler would call the Center
now and then to discuss logistic matters but would not divulge any information
over the open phone lines.  The phone at the Center was a secure line by
civilian standards, but Kessler would not trust it.

The only thing they knew for
sure was that Elena had managed to reach her Beirut contacts and was so far,
relatively safe.  They had no idea who the contacts were or where she was
staying.  Kessler had given them very little information, claiming they
did not need to know until their target was discovered. 

Once that happened, they would
be asked to move in.

That was extremely frustrating
to Sam but he knew it was the only way they would keep Elena and, hopefully,
his son out of harm’s way.  Meanwhile, he needed to make sure his people
were ready.

Devlin woke him out of his
reverie. 

“Did you transfer the money?”
he asked.

“Yes, I did. 
Just completed the transaction before I came here.
 
Half a million US dollars are in your account in Scotland.”

“That’s a good chap,” Devlin
smiled. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, raising his glass.

Jack joined in but Sam was in
no mood for joking around.

“So I’ll see you guys tomorrow
in the park after I read the report,” he said, rising up from his seat.

He was the only one allowed
into the consulate for that purpose and he would brief his team on a grassy
meadow in Central Park well out of earshot as soon as he was done reading.

His two colleagues
nodded. 

“Take it easy Sam,” Black Jack
said.  “We’ve waited this long…”

“Mike, when do you fly out?”
Sam inquired irritably, cutting his friend off.

“Tomorrow night,” Devlin said.

“OK, so I’ll see you guys
tomorrow,” Sam said as he threw a fifty dollar bill on the table and left the
restaurant.

CHAPTER
FORTY TWO

David Kessler stood on the
bridge of the Israeli Destroyer, Achi Eilat, watching the port of Haifa
disappear into the evening mist.

It would take six hours to reach
the drop off point, ten kilometers due west of the Beirut airport.  It
would be midnight and would take the troops another hour to reach the small
dock at Khalde, just south of the airport, where Aziz would be waiting with his
Land Rovers.

The
force were
all below deck making final preparations.  It was a mixed Special Forces
unit with Navy commandos to get them safely to shore and back.  The
destroyer had one Blackhawk helicopter on board ready to evacuate and
additional Apache helicopters were on standby along the Lebanese border. 
A pair of F-16s with a tanker was circling just east of Cyprus ready to provide
air cover just in case.

Everything depended on Aziz
and exact timing.  Kessler shuddered to think what would happen if
anything went wrong - if the rendezvous point was missed or incorrect, or Aziz
was waiting somewhere else, or if they were to be spotted by border patrols, or
heaven forbid, there was a fire fight and he had casualties on his hands. 
Radio contact with Aziz was not an option.  At least not on the way in,
and on the way out only if they were spotted and trouble brewed.

The drop-off point was chosen
with care.  There were relatively safer points further down the coast,
drop-offs that had been used before, but they needed a place which was
relatively close and with direct access to a paved road and that meant the
outskirts of town.  Khalde was higher risk but would save them at least
two hours on shore. 

It took them a week to prepare
the force once Aziz approached with his plan.  Not everyone concurred and
the final decision was taken by the Prime Minister who was, like most Israeli
Prime Ministers, a high ranking ex-Special Forces officer himself.

The intelligence on Abu Salah
was often contradictory and difficult to verify, but Aziz did make one
remarkable discovery that had tipped the scales in favor of going through with
the mission.

Aziz had discovered Abu
Salah’s family residence.

It was a one-storey villa in a
residential area in the south part of Beirut about ten kilometers east of
Khalde.  Aziz’s people had trailed the man there on several occasions very
late at night when he had concluded his business.  After the first time
they had discovered the place, they put a  permanent watch who reported
seeing children and women in the house to which Abu Salah came back every
night.

Though the place was
well-guarded, it was an ideal place to strike.  Unlike the rest of Beirut
where it was mostly crowded apartment buildings and narrow streets, Abu Salah’s
place was relatively isolated with very few houses and plenty of vegetation
around which made it easier to approach.

A reconnaissance sortie was
quickly sent to photograph the place.  The recon F-4 Phantom photographed
the house from forty thousand feet, and intelligence had aerial photographs of
the house and the area the following day.

A quick model of the house and
its perimeter was assembled in a similar area in Israel and the force had three
whole days to simulate the takeover.  At least five permanent guards were
spotted by Aziz’s people added to the three who accompanied Abu Salah in his
armored car.

Colonel Amir Dori was the
commander in charge.  He was the deputy commander of an elite Special
Forces unit chosen to carry out the mission.  His force included ten
specialists in stealth combat, all officers with extensive experience, all
sworn to secrecy, and ten Navy commandos, three of whom were the drivers of
three Zodiac boats who were to carry the men to shore from the destroyer and
wait for their return.

Kessler looked at his watch
then went below deck to the briefing room.  Everyone had been assembled.

The briefing was short and to
the point.  Colonel Dori hovered over the aerial photograph marked with
arrows and lines indicating to the troops where each unit had to be once they
reached the vicinity of the house.  The Land Rovers would be left a good
distance away concealed amongst some trees.