Part of Najib’s brain registered the change from the threat of death to threat of non-co-operation. The other part could not bear to think about his relegation; jealous rage consumed him, overriding his fear.
‘No one knows this man’s real name, not even Abu Asifah. Like most of his kind he uses false identities.’ Najib shrugged expressively, ‘Who knows what names he may use? I don’t need to know his name, so it has been withheld from me, but I think that he is a Turk. He operated in Greece for Abu Asifah; he masterminded the hijack operation. He also organized the blowing up of the aircraft over Iceland. Most of these great victories of Abu Asifah, they would all have been impossible without this man.’
‘Where is he now?’ Ben rapped the words out.
‘I don’t know,’ Najib opened his arms wide, a picture of innocence. ‘The last I heard of him was when he operated for Abu Asifah in Greece,’ he added hastily, pretending to gabble now as the Mossad agent raised the pillow, ‘he is a Muslim, an Islamist; he wants to spread the Islamist message in Turkey and for that he needs money; Abu Asifah provides it in return for jobs done.’
‘What does he look like?’
‘I don’t know; I’ve never met him.’
Ben’s face expressed disbelief.
‘Truly, I’ve never met him; all contact was through Abu Asifah.’
Sweat beaded Najib’s brow, had the Turk been seen visiting him? His eyes pleaded with Ben to believe him.
Ben grunted, ‘Keep your eyes and ears open, Najib, I want all the information you can get on this man and this operation. Believe me Najib; if you want my help, you give me unlimited help in return. Any sign of treachery and I’ll shop you to your friends.’
Najib fell over himself in his haste to agree, and began to give Ben details of the Blood of Shatila headquarters, its layout and guard routines.
Later after an hour of laying poison for his enemy, Abu Asifah, when the door closed behind Ben and the Mossad agents he spat on it. ‘Jew pigs, I’ll beat you in the end,’ he hissed.
Big Sur, October 23rd.
After days of hard training weapons and equipment, procured by Andrew Cunningham’s company, were delivered in a plain panel truck to a quiet lay-by. There they were transferred to the Chevy Blazers and driven down the track to Anna’s house and placed in a storeroom.
The teams cleaned and assembled the weapons and began to practice their use. Andrew had chosen Uzi assault pistols as their personal armament. Being semi-automatic, they provided light, extremely portable firepower. Fitted with efficient silencers, they were quiet and deadly in operation, and Andy came up with a way of enhancing both the stealth and the stopping power of the weapons. He had purchased some boxes of 9mm Glaser safety ammunition. The Glaser round is a cartridge, the bullet of which is made up of a thin copper case containing lead shot in liquid Teflon. When the round fires the bullet behaves exactly like a normal copper jacketed bullet until it impacts its target, then it dumps its energy like a small shotgun cartridge fired at close range. If the bullet misses the target, it splashes on the first solid object it hits and there are no give-away ricochets.
Andy loaded his silenced assault pistol with Glaser ammunition and Jim loaded his with standard 9mm rounds. They set up some large squash on rocks near the beach and paced out the distance to the firing point. Jim fired first, aiming at the rocks. The muzzle explosions were inaudible from only a few yards away, but loud whining ricochets whanged off over the sea, a complete give-away. Jim adjusted his sights to correct the weapons aim.
Then Andy fired at the rocks. There was a barely audible phut from the pistol and no give-away ricochets off the rocks as the Glaser bullets splashed and fragmented. He too adjusted his sights slightly. The rest of the team sat on the sand watching with interest.
Satisfied with the accuracy, they set out to assess the stopping power of the rounds. Again Jim fired first, punching a single 9mm round into a squash. It went through the big vegetable quite cleanly, the exit hole not much bigger than the entry hole.
Andy aimed at a second squash and fired a single Glazer round. The big squash exploded into a spray of fragments.
Andy looked at Jim and patted his magazine full of Glaser rounds. ‘We use these,’ he said grimly.
As their fitness improved, the men split into two teams and trained for their respective tasks. With the help of Willy Andersen, Jim instructed Mike in the use of oxygen re-breathing apparatus, a closed system where the oxygen breathed is recycled to scrub out exhaled carbon dioxide and pick up oxygen. The big advantage of such a system is that there are no telltale trails of bubbles on the surface. The big disadvantage is that going any deeper than twenty-two feet you die from oxygen poisoning. They used very accurate depth gauges.
Navigation at night ten feet down in inky black water had to be learned by Mike and practiced by the three of them. Even Jim and Willy found this technique difficult despite their previous experience. Together they got back into the knack of it and after a while were able to make accurate landfalls at night. They practiced observational techniques and the coding and entering of information into their burst transmission radios. The information had to get out even if they didn’t. The short sharp burst transmissions would ensure no one could get a directional fix on their positions; an unlikely scenario in Lebanon, but Jim and Willy were professionals and didn’t intend to take unnecessary risks.
The team trained hard for two weeks, fine tuning their already fit bodies, honing their special skills and polishing their Arabic. Finally they were ready.
‘Listen up guys, we ship out to-morrow...’ Mike’s words were drowned in a great cheer. He handed Jim a bunch of tickets. ‘I guess I don’t need to tell you all to keep shtum regarding destinations.’