Murray McDonald - Critical Error

It took just over ten minutes and the loss of one testicle for the man to tell Rebecca everything he had ever known. His name was Rafik Azzam and, as she had thought, he was a deputy to Mohammed Deif. She listened without emotion as he talked of the plan to deliver a blow to both Israel and America. Some details he knew, others he did not. He was in London to make a final payment to a third party. A ship had been fitted specially for the American bomb but he did not know where the ship was, its name or what the special fitting was. He didn’t know who he paid the money to, other than he sounded Russian. Finally and under the threat of losing his manhood entirely, he divulged the timescale for the attacks.

Happy that there was nothing left he could tell her, she fulfilled her first promise. She placed a small.22 caliber pistol against Rafik’s head and pulled the trigger. She turned off the TV, left the room, placed the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door and made a call to the Mossad office in London. There was a mess to clean up. Her next call was to Ben.

As she waited to be put through to Ben, she thought back over the last year. It had been the shortest year of her life. The more time she needed to track down the nukes, the less she seemed to have. After the revelation a year earlier, she had informed Ben of the Sheikh’s plan before announcing to him that she would go deep. Ben had not even had the chance to discuss it with her. She had ended the call and to all intents and purposes disappeared into an abyss. Ben had tried desperately to find her but to no avail. Six months earlier, he had all but written her off as dead.

As he ended the call with the Prime Minister, he picked up the waiting call.

“Ben Meir!”

“Uncle Ben,” she began.

“Rebecca, my dear!” he exclaimed, loud enough for the top floor of the Knesset to hear.

“My God, Ben you’re going to burst my ear drum,” she said smiling. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Where are you? You must come in,” ordered Ben, gushing and overjoyed to hear her voice again.

Rebecca remained motionless. “I’m sorry Ben but time is not on our side. The nukes will be detonated on Yom Kippur, just two weeks from now!”

Ben sighed.

“I know,” he said slowly.

“You know,” repeated Rebecca. “What are you doing? Holding meetings? We have to evacuate major cities, high profile targets. We can’t let them win,” she argued.

“We can’t and we won’t, please, what do you know?” he asked again.

Rebecca remained silent. Just because she had gone deep, did not mean she was not aware of the intel Mossad had and didn’t have. She knew Mossad was not aware of the two week deadline.

Ben read the silence and filled in some detail.

“We’ve tracked all five weapons to their locations and have teams watching them. It's all in hand. We’re waiting for the right moment to take them down. The weapons need to be armed. At the moment, the weapons are safe. When they come to arm them, we will take them down. Everything is in order.”

“Thank God,” exclaimed an extremely relieved Rebecca. A year of worry evaporated in an instant.

“But how? How did you find them?” As the worry subsided, reasoning took the initiative.

“Let’s just say I have my sources,” replied the old master, tapping his nose. “I’ve not lost it yet, you know. Now tell me, where have you been?”

“All over, I’m in London right now but mainly in the camps.” Rebecca was referring to the many Palestinian refugee camps, the breeding ground for the terrorists. “I got a break and discovered one of the Al Qassam Brigade commanders was going to be in London. I tracked him down to a hotel in Paddington.”

Rebecca had been one of their most successful deep cover agents. Her skin tone and facial features blended perfectly with the Palestinians. It was amazing how a change of clothes, altered make-up and hair could transform Rebecca from Jew to Palestinian freedom fighter, to French heiress, to Italian beauty and in fact with her linguistic talents and natural Mediterranean beauty could pass off from being from anywhere she wished.

“I just finished interrogating him. I can’t believe you already knew but thank God Haifa, Tel Aviv, Jaffa and Rishon le Zion will be saved.”

Ben knew better than to ask what she had done with the Palestinian.

“Don’t worry, we have them under constant watch. As soon as they come to arm the weapons, we’ll pounce.”

“And the American city?”

Ben wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“The American city, which one is it?”

“What American city are you talking about? There are five nukes and we’ve accounted for all five.”

Rebecca counted out the cities on her hand. “Haifa, Tel Aviv, Jaffa and Rishon leZion, that’s four.”

“But there are two in Haifa?” panicked Ben, beginning to realize a massive error might have been made.

“There were but one was destined for America. They want to make amends for missing Washington last time. All I know is that it’s not Washington they’re targeting.”

Ben’s face turned white as he lifted his other phone. “Get me the Unit’s Commander.” The unit was the nickname for Sayeret Matkal, Israeli Special Forces, modeled on the British SAS and was the elite force within the Israeli Defense Forces.

After a brief wait, Daniel Rosenberg was on the line.

“When was the last time we had eyes on the weapons?” barked Ben with no preamble and catching Daniel off-guard.

“Hmm…”

“Don’t hmm me man, tell me when did we last physically see the weapons?”

“If you’re meaning the nuclear devices, well we’ve been watching them for the last few days and nobody has been near them.”

“Check the Haifa ones now and call me back. I want physical checks of their presence immediately. Call me back,” ordered Ben not waiting for Daniel to confirm the order.

Hearing the end of the other call, Rebecca continued., “But what if I’m wrong, you may tip them to the fact we’re watching them?”

“It’s a risk we have to take. The weapons are Israeli, stolen from us. If they go off anywhere but on our soil, all hell will break loose and we could end up losing our nuclear mandate.”

“Jesus, do you ever think of anything but Israel Ben? What about the millions that could be affected by the blast? No, you just move to the next step, a weakened Israel.”

“That’s why I’m in this office and not in any other. I’m paid to protect Israel.”

Before the argument could really take hold, the other phone rang. Ben answered it immediately.

“Yes?”

“They’re not there Ben,” said an almost breathless Daniel.

“Shit! Check the rest?”

“We have, they’re all gone, all five are unaccounted for.”

“How the fuck do we lose five nuclear weapons?” he screamed, his anger welling over. A headache instantly pounded in Ben’s head as the ramifications of the news began to sink in. Five nuclear weapons under their surveillance had simply vanished and if Rebecca’s information was correct, at least one was bound for America, an ally they could not afford to lose.

Mediterranean Sea, Cyprus

Akram ‘Pock-Mark’ Rayyan had obtained his nick name like most who had suffered from severe acne as a teenager. However, not many dared mention it in front of him, particularly since he had become Deputy Commander and one of the most ruthless members of the Al Qassam Brigade. Akram stared across at the Cypriot coastline, the nearest he had been to his homeland for some time. The warmth of the air was a blessing from Allah after his last few weeks on the Northern coast of Russia. Severodvinsk was, even in the summer, cold and wet. Pock-Mark was not a sailor. He loved land and particularly his people’s land. Palestine. Pock-Mark had been honored by their leader, Mohammed Deif, with the task of delivering the momentous blow to the American infidels. He looked again at his hand-picked team, twelve young men in their prime who would sacrifice themselves for the cause, ten sailors and two young men trained to deliver the weapon, although only one would have the honor of taking the weapon into the heart of America. It was going to be one of the hardest choices he would have to make on the mission: to whom to bestow the honor. He genuinely did not know who should go. Both men were worthy so it may even be decided by a toss of the coin. Perfect, he thought, that was the solution. Allah would choose, as only Allah would make the coin fall the right way to ensure success.