quality was terrible. When they were painting, the air was filled with the mist of toxic paint. The holy warriors did not expect to live long anyway. Their reward was in heaven. They returned to the house in Villa Park, and shared food in the early evening.
Another matter involved the infidel shipping agents that had been paid an enormous amount of money to import and transport the SA18. Thousands of Palestinians could eat with the money paid to them. Machin promised to arrange their deaths.
For the next few days, Razzaq continued to work on the plan. He tracked the shipment daily on the Internet. On the date of arrival in New York, he was abnormally tense. The first major hurdle was to pass Customs inspection undetected. He knew the NY/NJ Port Authority had both x-ray and nuclear detectors, but they were counting on the decoy containers to work. Still, it would be two or three days before he could feel at ease again.
When the container was loaded on the train for Chicago, he was relieved, but they could not afford to relax again until the mission was completed. At any time, the US Authorities could be watching. Packages, people and cars were frequently “tagged” for tracking. It was important that everything move quickly to protect the mission.
The shipment was tracked from New York to the Chicago Gateway Rail Yards. From there, it was transported by MLC Freight Company to their disassembly building in Kenosha. Once there, his men could use only the available daylight coming through the windows to disassemble the warhead. They could not risk lanterns at night. Doors were kept closed at all times and they had no vehicles near the property. They tried to remain invisible, not even talking. They had some basic moving equipment, dollies, forklift and tools, but everything had to be removed when they left.
The work was finished on the third day. At noon, the gate was opened and two delivery trucks backed to the loading dock. Each reentry warhead, about the size of a standard US five hundred-pound bomb, was stacked in the first truck using special wooden pallets constructed in Woodstock. The loading process took less than twenty minutes and the reentry warheads left for Woodstock. The second truck transported the left over nose cone, equipment, and debris. The building was inspected to assure no trace of the shipment remained before they departed. The Seavan was abandoned. They did not attract attention and it was unlikely that the building owner would inspect the premises until the monthly rent wasn’t paid. By then, Chicago would be destroyed.
Snake Eater
The federal team assembled again at 7:30 on Sunday morning. Someone from the administrative staff brought pastries, which everyone ate while complaining about wasted calories. Present for the meeting was LTC Peter Shields. He was in the office at 7:00 as Luke requested for the morning meeting. The others all filed in haphazardly within five minutes, plus or minus, of the scheduled time.
After the SAC called it to order, he asked Luke to introduce the new member from the National Guard Bureau who gave a quick overview of Peter’s early entanglement with the case, followed by an invitation for Peter to talk about his background. He wore blue jeans and a frayed Army sweatshirt. He never pinned on the gold oak leaf emblems of his true rank, Major, and did not own a senior officer uniform or insignia yet.
He stared at the curious crowd for a few seconds before speaking, “Hello, I’m Peter Shields and I want you all to know that I have no law enforcement experience. I have a background in counter intelligence in the military, particularly in the Middle East. I have a fair amount of experience dealing with some of the worst extremist organizations, and understand their habits and organizational structure. I also know a little about Russian nuclear weapons.”
A hand raised, “Peter, what kind of ‘dealings’ have you had with Islamic extremists?”
A lot of the answer would be classified, so he hedged by saying, “Mostly, covert military actions to eliminate high threat targets.”
Angela did not like being patronized and said, “So, does that mean you killed people on some military hit list?”
He did not want to be baited into some kind of moral consciousness argument, “I can’t discuss details for security reasons, but it wasn’t about killing people. Sometimes it meant destroying transportation, weapons and supplies.”
Angela was being rude, “So, you went to exotic foreign places and met people from another culture, and killed them.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Sam Lee. “I take it Colonel that you feel you can add something to this team?”
Peter did not feel unkindly toward Angela, since they would be working together for a while. He looked away from her with an even expression; responding, “Yes sir, I have been in missions against Razzaq in the past, usually with the Israelis, and know a little about his habits and chain of command. I can also cut through the military bureaucracy pretty fast.”
Lee responded, “Well that could be useful, and you say you know something about this warhead.”
“Yes sir. I know it has ten separate maneuvering warheads that each contains a small yield nuclear bomb able to destroy a couple city blocks pretty easily.”
Lee said, “Okay. That should do it unless anyone has more to share?”
Rachael interjected, “Sam, I’d like to spend a few minutes with Luke, Angela and Peter if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, of course Rachael.”
Following the meeting, the group dispersed and Rachael led the threesome to the office she was using. After the door closed she went right to the point, “For the past few days, Agents Gallagher and Kerr have been retracing Razzaq’s travels around the area. Prior to that, elements of the US intelligence community have been following him from his entry at Kennedy airport in New York.”
She continued, “I want to show you how this surveillance has been carried out, because it will probably be necessary to use the technology in a more tactical manner soon.”
“Do any of you recognize this?” She pulled a small electronic device from her purse that looked like an iPhone. Peter gave a slight nod. Rachael said, “It’s an electronic receiving device that displays and records the movement of a transmitter up to--a pretty good distance.” The specifications were classified. Peter knew that it worked within the cellular frequency band at around 824.6 MHz, although it was encrypted and sounded like minor static on top of other calls. Signals were queried through the mobile phone networks back to the receiver.
Rachael said, “We’ve been tracking Razzaq’s movements to within a square meter using the military-class Navstar Global Positioning System.”
Angela asked; “How can you be sure Razzaq has the transmitter with him at all times? It seems like a risky way to track someone without visual surveillance.”
Rachael wasn’t precisely sure, but had a guess. She went on without answering the question, “We will be starting visual surveillance soon. However, it would be impossible for Razzaq to go anywhere without the transmitter. I don’t know precisely how it’s done.”
Peter looked across at Angela and saw an opportunity to engage in dialogue on a friendlier level, “Maybe I can help answer that part” All looked at him, and he continued matter-of-factly. “I suspect he has had a run in with the Mossad, the Israeli military intelligence agency. They have perfected a small transponder that can be implanted surgically. The controller looks like one I’ve seen before.”
Angela was astonished, “You mean it’s inside his body without him knowing it?”
Peter responded cautiously, “Well, I wouldn’t expect him to give permission.”
Once again he was sparring with her, something he didn’t want to continue. Angela wasn’t sure if she disliked Peter, but she would need to overlook ethical issues that had developed since childhood. He was the first military man she had met.
Coincidentally, at the Villa Park house, Razzaq lay on his side on a conference table while one of his men prepared to cut his back open with a razor knife that had been dipped in alcohol. A pain had annoyed him in his back that he attributed to the scar
from his escape in Beirut, but Masood detected a mass bulging slightly below his ribs. They used a hand-held radio detector to locate a device buried in his back. Trying to focus away from the pain to come, Razzaq concentrated on revisions to the plan and an accelerated timetable. They could not go to a hospital, and there was no anesthesia, so he would endure the pain.
The man cutting his back was an experienced medic. He had no formal training, but he’d tended to many wounds in his young life. He wasn’t afraid to touch inside human flesh, but hoped he could avoid digging too deeply into such an important man. Razzaq was their leader. He said a silent prayer as he began to cut.
Razzaq moved involuntarily with the first shooting pain in his back. He managed the pain through clenched teeth and tear-filled eyes. He whimpered silently. Several slices were needed to cut muscle from the thoracic membrane, which was semi-transparent. The opening was about three inches long, following the scar on Razzaq’s back. With his fingers, the medic separated the membrane, exposing internal body material. Razzaq’ face was pale and breathing labored. It seemed like many minutes had passed.
The man used his uncovered fingers to feel inside Razzaq’s body cavity. As he moved his fingers under the ribcage, he located a plastic bag, which he pulled downward