Fury From Within

Chapter Eighteen

The Aeroflot flight from Moscow touched down at London’s Heathrow airport, arriving in time for a full English breakfast to be had. They had even managed to land a few minutes earlier than expected, a rarity for the Russian National Airline. Not that Igor minded. He enjoyed the comfort provided by traveling on a civilian airline versus a military transport; at least he knew they would not end up in a hostile environment upon landing.

Before leaving Moscow, General Poszk had taken Igor aside and informed him that the Captain had an appointment to call on Sir Robert John, Director of MI-6, and to relay the complete story to him — in effect, putting all of his cards on the table.

Igor hoped Sir Robert would take pity on a wary traveler and compassionately send a car for him instead of forcing him to take the damn train. With only a three-hour layover in London, he could figure wasting at least an hour of that time traveling in each direction. The last time he visited London, he wound up getting lost taking the subway or “the Tube” as the Brits endearingly referred to it — windingup back at the airport dazed and confused — finally deciding to take a Taxi to his hotel. Hopefully the urgency of the situation would dictate VIP treatment Igor thought as he picked up his single leather garment bag from the baggage carousel, preparing for immigration inspection.

Sir Robert John and General Poszk had history together, with both having served their respective governments in East Germany during the turbulent 70’s and early 80’s. One essentially spied on the other. After 30 years in the business, they had each reached the pinnacles of their careers in representing their respective governments. Over time, they developed a mutual admiration for each other, even golfing together once a year to increase détente.

Igor’s mission would only solidify their informal partnership.

He felt uneasy standing in the passport control line, forced to travel incognito and using his civilian attire. It may seem absurd to some civilian, but there was something about the wearing of a uniform that provided a sense of security; a feeling of belonging. Standing in the long line of many nationalities made him feel, naked.

Igor stood behind a large, middle-aged group of vacationers from Kiev, knowing that the overhead security cameras would be focused on each of them from the time they left the aircraft. Their pictures would be run through an existing database containing thousands of pictures of known intelligence agents or terrorists. A giant leap in technology from the 70’s or 80’s when each airport control would have 5 to 10 security agents watching the disembarking passengers to compare black and white photos of known terrorists or foreign agents. The airports would purposely stall the passengers by making them wait 45 minutes for their luggage to show on the carousal then an hour for passport control. This provided time for the security personnel to manually compare each passenger to the photos. That was in the past, as archaic as radial engines on aircraft for passenger travel. The new computers at Heathrow would digitally scan each unsuspecting disembarking passenger and electronically send each image to its massive database, comparing the picture took mere seconds for the hi-power TROLIC software. When the software did find a match it spat out the results to a waiting team of security agents who would indiscreetly “assist” the subject in question to an interrogation suite.

Igor noticed that a well-dressed couple had suddenly staked out a position beside him. Igor nodded to the woman, a well-built red head wearing an expensively tailored business suit. She in turn, shot him a quick all knowing glance, sizing him up from head to toe. Igor then looked to the man, taking note of his impeccably tailored Seville Row pinstriped suit and handcrafted leather briefcase. The briefcase was one that he carried strangely with both hands, the case in front of his chest. Funny, he hadn’t noticed the smartly dressed couple on his Aeroflot flight. He would have undoubtedly noticed the red head.

The redhead leaned into Igor causing Igor to instinctively reach for his wallet having heard horror stories about pickpockets operating throughout the airport complex.

She produced a badge for him alone to see. “We work for MI-5, Captain Isinov,” she whispered softly into his ear. “Police matter. Would you please not make a scene and follow us.” She pointed to the man in the pin stripped suit now stationed to his left, producing a 9mm weapon from behind the leather briefcase. “We would like a few words with you,” she said in an impeccable, upper class accent.

The man in the pin stripe suit walked toward a door that had only seconds before contained a wall of two-way mirrors.

Igor had a distinctive feeling that the facial recognition software was up and running.

“Please come in and have a seat Captain,” the man in the pin stripped suit said, allowing the red head to close the door behind them.

“We.ve been waiting for you,” the red head said. She carefully removed Igor’s bag from his shoulder.

He was about to protest. But how could he? With him outnumbered two to one in a foreign country.

“What are you doing in Great Britain, Captain?” The agent in the pin stripped suit said, studying his body movements for any tell tale signs.

“I am here for an appointment with the Director of MI-6, Sir Robert John,” Igor stated, knowing it would probably sound like some type of joke to these agents. “If I’m not mistaken, isn’t his organization ranked somewhat higher than your MI-5 with you representing internal security, and him on a more national scale?”

The red head was already searching his garment bag with her skillful fingers, moving them carefully over his bags seams before locating the false compartment in its bottom.

“What, no appointment with the Queen?” she replied in jest.

“It’s no joke, miss. Call him yourself. I have his personal number in my bag,” Igor replied gruffly.

The redhead looked over to her counterpart, a smug look on her face. “Captain, why do you have a false panel in the bottom of your bag? And why,” holding up his pistol for the agent in the pinstripe suit to see, “does it contain a weapon?”

Igor smiled in response, wondering how long it would take a professional to locate his weapon. “I am, as you British say, on the clock, working a job.”

Still studying his bag, the redhead was able to come up with yet another false compartment, this one containing a 1/2-kilogram of Semtex and its accompanying detonator. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she said aloud. “And what the hell were you planning to do with this?” She gently placed the explosive clay on the table for display. “Call in some help, I want this man strip searched, X-rayed and then arrested.”

“Damn it,” Igor exclaimed. “Sir Robert is expecting me. You have to believe me. Call him yourself. His personal number is on a piece of paper in the false compartment. Just take the time and look would you!” The frustration was clearly evident in his voice.

No sooner had Igor finished his pleading when the inner door leading from the opposite hallway opened, revealing a slender, middle-aged man, attired in a worn plaid sport coat and accompanying slacks. The smell of pipe smoke entered with him. He had a genuine look of authority about him as he straightened his Royal Guards tie.

The man in the pin stripe suit quickly pulled out his standard issue 9mm, pointing it at the new visitor. “Who the hell are you, Mate? Identify yourself and be quick about it,” wondering how he had evaded the guard stationed outside the room.

The gentleman in the sport coat reached slowly for his inside coat pocket, stopping as the agent in the pin stripe suit proceeded to complete his movement for him, extracting his government issued identification.

“Let’s see who we have here shall we,” the agent in the pinstripe suit said before cursing under his breath, returning the gold embossed identification. “Sir Robert, I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. I apologize for not recognizing you, sir. “

Sir Robert John nodded curtly to both agents. “No harm, you were only doing your job now weren’t you? If you could be so kind and please leave myself and the captain alone to discus some items of national security, it would be greatly appreciated.”

The agent with the red hair pointed to the weapon and the block of Semtex. “Wait a minute, Sir Robert. What about this stuff on the table? No matter who you are, we can’t let this come into the country.” She stubbornly stood her ground against England’s most powerful spymaster.

Sir Robert admired her for her perseverance. He removed his cell phone and dialed the head of MI-5. “Byron, its Sir Robert here. One of your people is having a hard time understanding the situation. Would you be so kind as to inform her of the ground rules?”

Sir Robert handed his phone to the attractive agent.

The agent listened in silence as the Director of MI-5 read her the riot act. After several minutes of an uncomfortable silence, she set the phone down in front of Sir Robert, nodding her thanks for its use.

She searched for the right words as she stood in front of Sir Robert, wondering if her career would be affected by her overzealous attitude. “I must apologize for my actions Sir Robert, this is your show. I was unaware up to this point. Please don’t hold my actions against the security service I work for, it’s not their fault.”

Sir Robert raised his hands to cut her off. “You were only doing your job. I must commend you on your actions. Good day to you both.”

Sir Robert ignored his seated guest for the moment, choosing to concentrate on his leather briefcase, removing a red folder with “Top Secret” emblazoned across its front in bold black lettering.

“Pardon me for being so rude,” said Sir Robert before reaching across the table to shake his hand. “Captain Igor Isinov, so nice to finally meet you.”

Igor was surprised at the strength of the older man’s grip.

“I have heard many good things about you from General Poszk. The General says you are his proverbial ace in the hole when it comes to operations such as we have here,” he pointed to the folder that lay in front of him. “Do you have any idea why General Poszk asked you to see me during your layover in London?”

Igor sat casually looking about the room, bracing himself for the unexpected. “No sir, but I am sure you will be informing me of something very interesting and soon.” He allowed a slight smile to escape. “It’s been that type of day.”

Sir Robert could see they would get along famously, admiring his levity for the moment. “You are correct, Captain,” suppressing his own need to smile as he rose from the table. “General Poszk has many enemies in his own government,” walking over to inspect a tourism poster for the upcoming Shakespeare Festival in Stratford-upon-Avon. “He could not trust the information to be spoken on Russian soil,” turning back around to face Igor. “The walls have ears is another way of stating what he could not say. His every move is scrutinized by his enemies internal to your own government; he even told me that both his office and private home are under constant electronic surveillance. Poor chap.”

“I was aware the General had enemies but not on so great of a magnitude,” Igor replied. He wondered if his own home was bugged due to his close dealings with the general. Igor thought about calling his wife when his meeting with Sir Robert adjourned. That thought quickly dashed due to the possibility of the phone also being bugged.

Sir Robert realized the time was right. He was adhering to General Poszk’s strict guidance, one that if he did not immediately concur with the decision to send Captain Isinov to the United States, he could send one of his own people in his place. Having read and then dissected the captain’s personnel folder, he concurred with the general’s selection. They required a covert soldier and most importantly, according to the general—a man beyond trustworthy.

Sir Robert walked back to his leather briefcase, extracting a recent tour guide of Israel, one with a bright color picture of the Temple Mount on its cover. He casually tossed it across to Igor.

“Something is up your sleeve Sir Robert, and I feel General Poszk has volunteered my services for another type of mission.” Igor now wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

Sir Robert stood at the opposite side of the table, dismissing his comment with a sly grin. “Captain, have you ever been to Israel on holiday or possibly for a work related cause?” Sir Robert knew full well that Russia had numerous spies in the state of Israel, this with the ongoing exodus of Russian emigrants to Israel.

“I never had the pleasure, Sir Robert, but it is on my to-do list when I retire some day.”

Sir Robert decided to sit down beside Igor instead of across from him, in effect not preaching down to him. After all, they were now team members. In his line of business, he always tried to intimidate, whether it was politicians nipping away at his budget or surly supervisors trying to unseat him. Not in this case, the Captains exploits and skills spoke volumes about the man and Sir Robert was an excellent judge of character.

“How rude of me, where are my manners. I cannot have you return home and say British hospitality was lacking now could I? Would you like a cup of coffee or another type of beverage perhaps? Maybe a pastry?

“No thank you, Sir Robert. I’ll just take the bad news that you have to provide me, straight up.”

Sir Robert looked at Igor and realized why General Poszk placed his trust in the man. He had been forewarned that he was a no bullshit kind of soldier. All of this came clearly across to Sir Robert. “Okay, by now you must be wondering what this is all about?” Sir Robert pointed to the room’s surroundings and then to the tour book that lay on the table. “An old soldier such as yourself is probably wondering when the rubber hoses and bats are coming out?”

They both laughed aloud at the prospect, but the harsh reality being that just 20 years earlier that probably would have been the situation. Since the fall of the Soviet Union, everything changed, including cooperation between the two former enemies.

“But enough of the past. General Poszk and I have a proposition for you. Well, I have a proposition for you. The general has already ordered you on the mission. It’s the alteration to the mission that you might have some contention with. It pertains to something we thought up a few years ago. At the time it was nothing more of what if fantasy and a bit of a dream then its chance of ever becoming reality. That was up until this nuclear suitcase issue comes about. Immediately we both realized the potential of the situation.”

Igor nodded.

Sir John continued. “If you agree, you will be going on a short visit to the United States just as previously planned, then on to Israel for us, meaning General Poszk and myself. Upon completion of the Israel portion of the mission, you will retire. You are being forced to retire by the general because he said, and I am quoting him here when I say this,” taking a piece of paper from his briefcase and removing his glasses to read the small print. “‘The old bear has done enough for his country, it’s time to hibernate,’ unquote. I imagine you have a good idea of what he is referring too?”

Igor nodded once more, realizing the general was trying to protect him due to the political turmoil going on back home. This was his way of saying thank-you and to stay low and away from him.

“Now, if you don’t mind Captain, back to the matter at hand.” He cast a gaze on him that made Igor feel uncomfortable for the moment, wondering what he was thinking. “You are going to perform a mission of the utmost secrecy. Nothing higher than this, my boy.”

“Sir Robert, I understood the risks before I left Russia. The only thing that has changed is the recent addition of going to Israel. As I first said to General Poszk and now to you, I am willing to die for this mission. That should be enough to calm your fears of my maintaining mission secrecy. I think the question should be how are you going to maintain secrecy on your end?”

“Touché Captain. I admire your jab. To answer your question, I alone will know of this. No one else on the British side, not even the Prime Minister will hear about this until the time is right. Let’s dispense with the appetizer and jump right into the main course shall we? The governments of Russia and Great Britain have been secretly negotiating a Middle-East peace settlement with Israel, Jordan, Syria, Egypt, and the Palestinians. We have decided to brush aside the United States and their half-hearted attempts of peace and decided to take a more radical approach to the process.”

“Since when does Great Britain and Russia co-operate on a peace treaty? Has Hell frozen over? We in Russia have always thought of the United States and yourself as one nation, one enemy. Only the United States seemed to be your mouthpiece.”

Sir Robert understood his animosity, knowing their countries past histories and entanglements. “Yes, some of us in Great Britain are of the same thought. Times change my young Russian friend. We are always looking for new opportunities. When this one presented itself, we jumped at the chance to show the Americans we are still a sovereign nation. We will achieve peace on the first go-around.”

“And how do you intend on achieving this?”

“It’s simplistic in nature. You will go to the United States and perform your mission as originally planned. Find the suitcase weapon and bring it back to us here in London. As for your embassy in Washington, inform them that when you reached the location of the weapon it had already been unearthed. They will obviously blame that rebel chap you are after for its disappearance, and assume it is back in their homeland somewhere. Once back in London, General Poszk, myself, and of course you, will escort the weapon with a combination of MI-6 and General’s handpicked team members to Jerusalem. Neither team will be informed of the precious cargo we carry, only yourself. We will inform the others that we are on some sort of joint training exercise or something along those lines.

“Once in Jerusalem we will proceed to the area around the Temple Mount, the holiest shrine for Christians, Muslims and the Jewish people. The Temple Mount holds the significance of all three religions, therefore it commands absolute attention,” Sir Robert said. “Stop me if I’m proceeding too fast for you old boy.”

The Captain nodded for him to proceed.

“The weapon will then be buried 10 meters underground in a chamber that the Israelis are presently excavating under the guise of an archeological dig. Again, only the leader of Mossad is aware of the full operation. Even the laborers performing the work have no idea. Presently, only the Israeli’s are involved. We haven’t let the other countries in on the operation yet. Once the initial part of the mission is complete, we will then summon all of the Middle East participants to the peace table, inform them of the buried weapon and then lay our terms on the table.” Sir Robert sat staring once again at Igor, evidently wondering how he would react to such a radical plan, or a delicious opportunity as they in Whitehall saw it.

Igor sat back for a moment trying to read between the lines of the operation, there was always something hidden between the lines. Sitting back in his chair, he had many questions and concerns but thought better, this was neither the time nor the place. He would state the obvious to Sir Robert, and then back away.

“Your plan sounds achievable, but what keeps the Arabs from still attacking Israel?”

Sir Robert leaned back in his chair; it was his turn to smile, anticipating just such a question. “Remember, I said it is simplistic in nature so lower your normal standards of thinking Captain. Since the Temple Mount is the principle piece holding the religions together, it could also destroy them. When we approach the table, we will inform the Arabs that the weapon is buried in the Temple Mount and set to explode if any attack happens upon Israel. Not a minor shooting or stabbing mind you but a heavy attack or invasion. In one quick motion, we will guarantee security for the region. We then initiate the idea of a Palestinian State but only on the west bank and then saturate the area with United Nations troops on the ground as peacekeepers. The Gaza strip reverts back to Israeli control. The Israeli’s have already stated they will accept the idea of a state if we supply the security. Who wants to be the instigator that causes the destruction of the holiest shrine representing three key religions?”

This was clever thought Igor, wondering who had first come up with such a brilliant idea, Sir John or General Poszk? He thought both men of being capable. “Who is going to hold the activation keys for the weapon?” Igor knew full well from his recent training that the weapon had to be manually keyed in order to achieve detonation. This weapon was to be buried under 10 feet of earth or concrete.

“We will change the configuration of the weapon to enable it to accept an outside source code via a transmitter for it to explode,” Sir Robert said. “The transmitter will be held by a responsible panel. The objective will be the same that the old Soviet Union achieved with the United States in the 70’s. The Soviet Union stopped the United States from a pre-emptive strike by storing the weapons on United States soil. As you know, once the US found out about the weapons, all first strike scenarios were removed from the US playbook. The US could not strike due to the buried Soviet weapons near military installations and US cities. Their missile silos were for all intent, neutered. We will use the same analogy; you make a move and we destroy something you hold dear and precious. This alone will cause the process to really start in earnest.”

Igor decided to press the issue. “Why not just use one of your own weapons from storage, or an Israeli one? Why wait for the suitcase weapon in the United States?” It made perfect sense, at least to himself. Everyone knows the Israeli’s possess the same type of weapons. Why couldn’t they just donate one from their stockpile?

“We would be laughed from the room with that suggestion. And that would be perfectly understandable. But if you have a weapon that is not supposed to exist, like the ones your country placed in the United States, who is going to miss them? Hell, your own government can’t even afford to disable or store the ones it has placed in your country. The weapons in the United States are something they inherited from the previous administration. They have to beg from the United States for monies to pull back the 32 weapons in order to destroy them. Is this an irony of the Cold War?”

Sir Robert casually looked about the room before smiling at Igor. “I am sorry, Captain. I tend to speak a little too freely. Sometimes I should hold back and choose my words more carefully.”

“No harm, Sir Robert,” Igor replied.

“We can do your country a service by taking at least one of the suitcase weapons off their hands. So you can see, this is the only possible scenario that could actually work. Everything else has been tried, from money to land to placate the parties involved with nothing truly succeeding. As for the Israeli’s donating one of their weapons — they have agreed to do so but it is highly doubtful that the Arab Middle Eastern countries would accept a Jewish weapon preserving the peace. You understand the significance? No, that would not do in this case.”

“What if we don’t catch the terrorist in the US and he succeeds in his mission? What then?”

Sir Robert reached over to help Peter repack his bag. “Then, this meeting never happened — and I’m just an old man you had a leisurely chat with at the airport.”