of it was good and more importantly, none of it was good for Israel. He excused himself from the meeting. There were less than 60 hours until midnight Yom Kippur and he had little time available. He looked at the clock, checking the time he already knew. He calculated the timings. It was quite simple. He didn’t have the time but more importantly, he didn’t have the time not to.
“David, what’s the quickest plane we’ve got to get me to America?” he asked the Defense Minister.
“I’ll call you straight back!”
Two minutes later, he called back. “Ben, normally one of our Gulfstreams would be as quick as we could do. Fighters just don’t have the range without numerous tanker stops and by the time we get that organized you’d have been half way there in the Gulfstream.”
“OK, that’s normal.” Ben didn’t have time for explanations or pre-amble.
“Well, it seems there’s an experimental American B1-R sitting at Nevatim. It’s undergoing trials for long distance speed runs. It arrived a couple of days ago after doing it in five hours, half the time of the Gulfstream.”
“And they’d let me hitch a ride?”
“They’re keen to test it and as they go supersonic, it has to fly over sea and not land. America to here gives them about as long a straight run as you get over sea. I just need to tell them when and you’re good to go.”
Ben thanked God something was going in their favor.
“Fantastic David, I’ll be there in four hours.” Or not all, he thought, as he hung up.
Before he went anywhere, he was about to undertake the riskiest mission of his life. The Shin Bet officer greeted him as he left his office and talked him through a number of key points. The most important was that Ben must stay in full sight at all times. If at any point they feared he would be taken and interrogated, well, quite simply they could not allow that to happen. Ben was assured that the snipers targeting him would ensure a quick and painless end. How thoughtful and comforting, he thought.
As the helicopter came into land, Ben’s nerves were beginning to get the better of him. It was quite the most ludicrous idea he had ever had but with less than three days to save his country, he would try anything and this was pretty much all that was left.
The small open-top jeep offered no protection. He climbed aboard and with the white flag in position, he drove towards the gates which opened as he approached them and then slammed shut behind him.
Ben Meir, for the first time in decades, was in Gaza where more than half the population would happily slit his throat and that was only because the rest were too young or too old. He drove forward and stood up for all to see the white flag fluttering behind him. Ben was hoping to meet just one person and prayed that the boldness of his arrival coming would afford him that meeting.
It didn’t take long before the first armed man approached and, if Ben’s contacts were correct, Ahmed Hameed would already know that Ben Meir was sitting in a jeep with a white flag.
“What do you want, old man?”
“To talk with Ahmed Hameed, in private.”
“I will take you to him!” he smiled in response.
Ben almost laughed at the transparency of the offer to slaughter him. “We must meet here, for reasons I’m sure Ahmed will appreciate!”
The gunman drove off. A second gunman, more senior, insisted Ben drive further into Gaza. Ben kept a close eye on the odometer. He had been told to stay in clear view and within 0.8 of a mile of the guard tower. Any further and they would assume the worst.
Ben stopped as the gauge clicked to 0.8 and ignored the gunman’s gesticulations to come further.
Ahmed had surveyed the scenes from afar. The news of one of Israel’s most famous and feared men venturing into Gaza on his own with only a white flag as cover had spread like wildfire. Ahmed’s network had informed him almost immediately and the news of the request to meet with him in private certainly intrigued him. If it were a trap, he could see no way out for Ben Meir. His men would cut him down with ease. Perhaps he was terminally ill and was willing to sacrifice himself for Ahmed. However, Ahmed held no illusions that his name was held in the same regard as Deif or the Sheikh. Ben Meir would not trade himself for Ahmed Hameed. Deif’s plan to bring them to their knees with the nuclear weapons seemed to be the only thing that fit. Here was Ben Meir, begging on his knees. That would raise Ahmed’s name alongside Deif and perhaps even the Sheikh. He instructed his best snipers to take up position. Any funny business and they were to kill the Israeli.
Ahmed jumped into a jeep and drove towards the diminutive Israeli.
Ben stood up and offered Ahmed his hand, as the two introduced each other formally.
“I do not like your snipers aiming their weapons at me, please instruct them to stand down,” insisted Ahmed, refusing Ben’s hand.
“My dear boy,” laughed Ben. “They’re not aiming at you, they have explicit instructions under no circumstance to shoot you. They’re aiming at me!”
Ahmed looked at him with some confusion. The old man was mad, it was a trick.
“My government is extremely concerned that if I were to be captured, I hold some of the most secret and important information in the land. I’m too dangerous to them in your hands. I also believe you’re too valuable to us dead. So trust me, if anybody’s getting out of here alive, it’s you. My life is in your hands.”
Ahmed accepted the honesty and Ben Meir’s hand.
“Now,” said Ben. “Let me tell you about something called Ararat.” He beckoned for Ahmed to sit, it was going to take some time.
Chapter 76
Preston hadn’t slept all night. He had become increasingly wary of Johnson’s influence and closeness to the President. Johnson was not the brightest but was most possibly one of the most ruthless and ambitious people Preston had ever met. That was an exceptionally dangerous combination and he most certainly was not a man Preston ever intended to have to call ‘Sir’. The President was an exceptionally bright man but unfortunately, he was also incredibly easily led. His judgment, at times, was very wanting. The old men whom he had tied himself up with were a case in point. Killing Baker had always been the wrong move but once in train, it had to be followed through. If it did ever leak, Bakergate could destroy the political system in the US.
It was therefore down to Henry Preston to rescue the President and save the American political system and in turn, he hoped, gain the Vice President’s chair.
Preston, as Director of National Intelligence, oversaw sixteen of the nation’s most important intelligence agencies and had literally hundreds of thousands of America’s most intelligent individuals working for him. Preston had left the Oval Office the previous evening and called on his brightest and best talents. He had locked them in the room and between them, they talked through and considered all the information to date.
For obvious reasons, Preston had excluded the CIA from the session. Johnson’s guys couldn’t be trusted not to keep him in the loop and this was going to be Preston’s baby from start to finish. Preston laid out the timeline and talked his small and elite audience through what they knew had happened to date. With two FBI agents used to working down the leads, two code breakers/hackers from the NSA, a National Reconnaissance Office analyst with access to satellite feeds both historic and real time and a Department of Justice specialist with access to every database in the land, he figured that between them, they’d get there.
It was one of NSA men who jumped on the names they had used on the Paris to New York flight as a potential for narrowing down the search area. Of course, it was unlikely that they’d ever use the names again but up until that point, the names had been clean. As suggested, they tracked the names back and one of them, Sam’s, led all the way back to Glacier Park International Airport, Montana. Of course, they were no longer there but ask ourselves this, suggested the NSA code breaker. Why did they start there? Of course, that rationale, after hours of work earned a hearty laugh. However, he then pointed out that they didn’t start out as just two people. Light bulbs went on around the room as the point was made. Senator Baker was probably near Glacier Park International Airport.
With a point of reference, it did not take long to track down the skiing lodge. What was a complex barrier of trust funds to a tax lawyer was a Level One line puzzle to an NSA code breaker. As morning broke, they had their
