Target Omega

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Sunrise was half an hour away but already pale shades of orange and pink painted most of the cloudless eastern sky as threads of dawn shimmered over the calm ocean. The air was still. The beach was deserted, but only for a couple of hours more. It was going to be yet another hot day.

A lone figure stood smoking a cigarette on the second-floor balcony of the large beach house situated on the northern end of Bethany. Tall and lean, the smoker had a patrician bearing. His movements were casual, unhurried, a man in control of himself and his circumstances.

The news during the last two weeks had been dominated by the bombings of Iran’s nuclear facilities. The Americans’ and Israelis’ devastating attacks would likely continue for several more weeks, precisely as he had expected. He watched closely the rate at which the US forces expended their munitions as well as the type and amount. Several times each day he studied detailed reports about the progress of the air campaign and the state of US military readiness throughout the rest of the world.

The reports generally pleased him. In fact, the course of events in the last month had generally pleased him. Not everything had gone according to plan. But he had been around long enough to know that there would always be detours and glitches. In this case, nothing had detracted from the overall success of the plan.

The first phase was nearing completion. No other obstacles remained. The United States had behaved exactly as he had predicted. In a way, it was somewhat disappointing. A superpower shouldn’t be so easily manipulated. But then, he’d always been two moves ahead of his adversaries.

It was time to initiate the next phase. They had spent several years meticulously plotting every detail of the entire operation. Although he wasn’t aware of every aspect of the plan, he had executed his portion, the most vital portion, flawlessly. They had determined that the first phase would take a bit longer to execute than it had; nonetheless, they were fully prepared to begin the next step.

He flicked the cigarette onto the sand below and opened the sliding screen door. The house was dark and quiet and would remain so for a while.

Standing for a moment in his study off of the balcony, he decided to first get himself a cup of coffee. Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, he paused on the landing to listen at the window facing the driveway at the side of the house. Although he couldn’t see them, his acute hearing picked up the quiet conversation of two bodyguards from his protective detail standing next to one of two black sedans parked outside of the carport.

At the bottom of the stairs he turned into the kitchen and poured himself a large mug of coffee, taking a sip before returning to the study. He sat in a high-backed leather chair for several minutes, cradling the mug as he faced the brightening sky.

They were on the verge. The vast intelligence apparatus of the United States had been misled and outmaneuvered. Now they would be caught flat-footed. There would be nothing they could do to prevent what was about to happen.

The house was swept twice a day for listening devices. The windows were specially constructed to frustrate any surveillance by laser microphones or similar devices. Nothing he said in this room could be heard by anyone but the intended listener. Nonetheless, obsessive about security, he exercised extreme caution, as a man in his position must, whenever speaking of the operation.

He pulled an encrypted phone from the pocket of his robe, pressed a series of keys, and waited. When the call was answered he spoke a single word.

Then he terminated the call and finished his coffee.