Vengeance

34 NSA BAHRAIN

Jake Harrison reclined in his seat as the Dassault Falcon executive jet began its descent toward the Kingdom of Bahrain. Sixteen hours earlier, the jet had lifted off from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport with Harrison and Khalila as its only passengers. As the aircraft descended, Harrison examined the archipelago nation comprising fifty natural islands and thirty-three artificial ones.

Bahrain Island, where they would land, was the largest island by far, making up over eighty percent of the country. Located on the northern tip of the island was Naval Support Activity Bahrain, home to U.S. Naval Forces Central Command and the United States Fifth Fleet, an area advertised as the busiest 152 acres in the world, hosting seventy-eight military commands.

It had been a long and quiet flight. Khalila’s behavior hadn’t changed since their last mission together. She kept her thoughts to herself and rarely spoke, but Harrison detected no hint of the tension that had permeated their relationship during the two previous assignments. The source of that tension — her true identity — had been resolved, along with her need to eliminate those who discovered who she really was.

During their first mission together, Harrison had forged an agreement with Khalila. She would take no action as long as he didn’t discover her true identity. That truce had held until four months ago, when Khalila had pressed her pistol against his head seconds after he had learned who she was. She had refrained from pulling the trigger, and Harrison had subsequently been authorized knowledge of her true identity, which remained a closely guarded agency secret.

After touching down, the Falcon taxied to a halt under the midday sun. Harrison and Khalila descended the aircraft staircase onto the tarmac, where they were met by representatives from U.S. Naval Forces Central Command. The two CIA officers were taken to Central Command’s secure operations center, where they were introduced to the other four team members: former SEAL Team Six member Robert Wilson, two former Delta Force operators — Steve Hile and Eric White — plus Bob Lesher, their Black Hawk helicopter pilot.

Joining the group today was Karim Rashidi, the CIA Middle East field officer who had obtained the critical information: the delivery of advanced Russian centrifuges, plus an internal layout of the new Natanz mountain complex. Rashidi began his brief, progressing through slides on a large-screen video display at the front of the operations center.

“Your objective tonight is the destruction of equipment inside the underground complex within Pickaxe Mountain. There are two main levels inside the complex. The upper level is a centrifuge fabrication facility that is nearing completion. The lower level houses a uranium enrichment plant, where several thousand centrifuges purify uranium gas, increasing Uranium-235 concentration to weapon-grade level. The upper level is two hundred fifty feet beneath the mountain surface and the lower level is almost five hundred feet deep, which means the complex can’t be destroyed by a conventional munitions strike. That’s where you come in. You’ll infiltrate the facility and plant explosives on both levels.”

With the mission objective clear, Rashidi shifted to the complex’s exterior defenses. “Natanz is protected by anti-aircraft batteries, perimeter fencing, and a contingent of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard. There are four entrances into the mountain complex, two to the east and another two to the west, and all are guarded and normally sealed. Covert ingress into the complex via a standard entrance isn’t feasible, so you’ll be trying something different.”

The presentation shifted to the next slide, a satellite infrared view of Pickaxe Mountain. “There are four vertical ventilation shafts: two induction and two exhaust. These are the exhaust vents.” Rashidi pointed to two small dark blotches on the satellite photograph indicating the exhaust of cool facility air. “You’ll travel to the complex tonight aboard a CIA Black Hawk helicopter, which should enable a clandestine approach to within a few hundred meters of this exhaust vent.” He pointed to one of the two dark spots.

“It’s likely that there are surveillance devices near the vent, so you’ll have to identify and neutralize them, then gain access to the vent and rappel down to the upper level. Once you’ve entered the facility, the plan is straightforward — plant explosives and depart.”

Rashidi moved through the next several slides, which contained hand-drawn layouts of the two levels inside the complex. In addition to the centrifuge fabrication facility, the upper level contained supply storerooms, a security control room, and accommodations for the complex’s security detachment. Rashidi walked through the drawings his contact had provided, highlighting the best locations for explosives.

“Since the complex is deep within the mountain, you won’t be able to detonate the explosives on the lower level remotely. It’s possible you can trigger the charges on the upper level after returning to the mountain surface, but to ensure they detonate, the explosives on both levels will be set with synchronized timers. That means once you set the timers, you’ll be living on borrowed time. Any questions so far?”

Steve Hile, one of the former Delta Force operators, asked, “What about a possible nuclear explosion when we destroy the uranium enrichment plant?”

“That won’t happen,” Rashidi replied. “To achieve a nuclear detonation, you have to compress the uranium into a fraction of its size, which initiates the nuclear chain reaction. Your sabotage will just create a giant mess of radioactive material, highly contaminating the facility. The Iranians will have to abandon the complex or spend years decontaminating it.

“As you’re aware,” Rashidi said, “in case any of you are captured or killed, it is essential that you cannot be directly tied to the U.S. government. In support of this directive, your fingerprint and DNA signatures have been erased from every database, both domestic and international. We’ve also deleted any social media profiles and other internet records. You are now officially ghosts. Although” — he glanced at Khalila — “you’re already a ghost, aside from your recent employment as a translator for Bluestone Security.”

Khalila offered no response, either verbally or physically, simply staring back at Rashidi.

Rashidi then asked, “Any more questions?”

There were none, so he continued, “During tonight’s mission, you’ll refer to each other using code names, in case any of your communications are intercepted.”

He looked at Wilson, a six-foot-four, barrel-chested guy. “You’ll go by Leviathan.”

Rashidi shifted his gaze to Eric White, a tall, thin, wiry man. “You’re Cutlass.”

To Steve Hile, he said, “You’ll be Pile Driver,” and Harrison was code-named Riptide.

“Your pilot,” Rashidi said, referring to Bob Lesher, “will go by Falcon.”

That left Khalila, to whom he said, “You’ll go by Translator.”

Khalila frowned as she folded her arms across her chest. “They get fancy names and I get Translator? You’re kidding, right?”

Rashidi grinned. “I am. You’ll be Stingray. Is that suitable?”

“Quite.”

“Great,” Rashidi said. “Try to get some sleep. You depart at midnight.”