The Cup

CHAPTER 27

Abdul Haddad sat in the backseat of a tan colored, armored Land Rover that had once belonged to the Iraqi army. He watched the Syrian desert speeding past. The sun was a golden ball of fire, the sky a gray-blue dome that stretched to the horizon. Air blowing through the open windows smelled of dry sand and heated rock.

Sitting next to Haddad was a pinched little man wearing thick glasses with heavy black frames, reading a technical abstract dealing with the finer points of nuclear fission. The paper was written in French. The principles of creating a nuclear explosion were the same in any language.

Rashid Jaffari had been educated in the West, taking an advanced degree at MIT. He'd been working on building a bomb for Saddam Hussein before the invasion but had run out of time before it could be completed. He'd gone to ground in the lawless mountains of Pakistan before the Americans could capture him. Now he'd been given a second chance to finish his work. This time, he would not be interrupted before he was done.

It was of little consequence to Rashid if success meant the deaths of many thousands of people. Rashid didn't think of nonbelievers as people. He thought of them as less than human, doomed by their refusal to see the truth of the Messenger's teachings. When the Day of Retribution came and they died and found themselves in hell, they would have only themselves to blame. If true believers also died, Allah would welcome them with open arms.

There were few of those in the city where ISIS planned to detonate the bomb.

The Land Rover turned off the desert road onto a rough track leading toward a row of rugged hills a few miles away. The driver stopped, got out of the car and attached a drag behind the vehicle to obscure the tire marks. He got back in and they proceeded at a crawl, driving slowly to avoid raising a dust trail that might capture the attention of a passing drone or satellite. After twenty minutes the track descended into a broad wadi running between the hills. During the rainy season, a shallow river ran through the ravine, bringing life to the desert. The rains were late this year. The valley was dry and brown, marked by outcroppings of rock as black as the hearts of the men sitting in the car.

"We're almost there," Haddad said.

Rashid looked up from his paper.

"Good." He tapped the paper in his lap. "This has given me the final piece of information I was seeking. Have the rest of the materials arrived?"

"Yes. Everything we recovered from Iraq. It will all be familiar to you. Everything will be brought down to you tomorrow."

"You found the sealed containers?"

"Yes. Your directions were very good. The Americans passed the site without ever noticing what was there. The camouflage was perfect."

"We'd been warned," Rashid said. "We knew they were coming. It gave us enough time. The Russian warhead you provided was in poor shape but useful for my design. By incorporating the material that was stored in the containers, the effect of the warhead will be amplified considerably. The yield should be in the neighborhood of five kilotons, about half the size of the bombs which destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki."

"Excellent, excellent. It is a great thing we do, my brother. God will be pleased."

Rashid placed his hand over his heart. "We are but His servants."

The car slowed as it came to several large boulders strewn across the riverbed. It looked natural to a casual observer, but the boulders forced anyone coming down the riverbed to drive between them. Camouflage netting stretched overhead. As they passed the first boulder three men appeared as if from nowhere, armed with AKs. One of them held up his hand. The driver stopped the car. The guard looked inside, saw Haddad and Rashid, and waved them through.

They passed a second boulder and found themselves in front of a cave in the side of the ravine. The entrance was invisible from above, broad and high enough to let a good-sized truck pass through. Once inside, the cave widened to forty or fifty yards across. The car came to a halt. Rashid and Haddad climbed out.

Haddad stretched his arms and yawned. "I am going back as soon as I see what you have done. Al-Baghdadi wants a report on our progress."

"Tell him we are nearing completion."

"When will the work be finished?"

"If all goes well, less than a week. The bomb is already partially assembled."

"Be careful, Rashid. This is not the time for you to walk the martyr's path. You are too valuable to lose."

"I survived the incompetence of Saddam's sons and the missiles of the Americans," Rashid said. "I can survive this. Don't worry, my brother. I have no desire for paradise just yet. Come, let me show you what I have accomplished."

The cave extended back into the hill for almost a hundred yards. The floor had been smoothed over and rooms dug out of the sides. Supplies and sleeping arrangements for the guards took up the first half of the cave. There were always at least a dozen men awake and on duty while the others slept. They cooked only at night, inside the cave, so heat from the fire would not register on the satellites passing overhead.

The rest of the cave was sealed off by plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling. A heavy table mounted on a four wheeled platform was visible through the plastic. Rashid's bomb sat on top of it.

Rashid took out a dosimeter and placed it on Haddad's shirt. He took out another for himself and pinned it on. He held the plastic aside for Haddad to enter the room.

"Is it safe?"

"Quite safe," Rashid said. "The dosimeter is a routine precaution. The plutonium is stored in that container by the wall. The enriched uranium is on the other side. As long as everything remains sealed in its container, there is no danger. Everything will be prepared before hand for the final assembly. I will be wearing a radiation suit to protect me."

"Is there any chance of an accidental explosion?"

"As long as the trigger is not detonated, no. This is a very basic design, a gun-type weapon. We do not have the equipment for something more sophisticated, but it is of little importance."

"How does it work?"

"A charge of Semtex is detonated to begin the process. The explosion shoots a quantity of enriched uranium at high velocity into another compact mass of enriched uranium. That provides the critical mass needed to set off the chain reaction. It's very inefficient but highly effective. I will pack plutonium around it. The plutonium will not detonate but it will create a lethal cloud of dust. This will be a very dirty bomb. The ground will be poisoned for thousands of years, for miles around."

Jaffari had built his bomb inside a metal chest the size of a footlocker, the kind of container that could be found on any construction site or oil rig. The lid was open. Wires ran from a digital panel and counter on the inside of the lid, the down into the interior.

"As you can see," Rashid said, "I have not yet added the final components. Once everything is in place, the panel is ready for programming. The bomb can easily be moved in a van or truck. It is a true accomplishment to make this from what was available."

Rashid's voice resonated with pride.

"Is it dangerous to transport?"

"Until it has been programmed to fire it is safe, but there will be some radiation leakage. Those who deliver the weapon to the target must be prepared for martyrdom."

"There will be no shortage of volunteers," Haddad said. "This is a mission that will bring great honor to them."

"Sometimes I wonder what use honor is to someone who has died to gain it," Rashid said.

Haddad looked at him in surprise. "You had better not let others hear you say that. It might be taken the wrong way."

"I know, I know," Rashid said. "You are my oldest friend, Abdul. If I cannot trust you then I am lost."

Haddad embraced him. "You are not lost, my brother. Take your doubts to Allah in prayer. Now I must return."

The two men walked back to the entrance of the cave.

"Drive slowly," Rashid said. "The American satellites are very good at paying attention to dust trails."