Frank. How do we know we can trust the Israelis? And two: what happens when DoD and the rest of the administration hears about this?”
Though Marshall Wilmont was present, the firm’s chief operating officer deferred to the CEO and founder. Having fought the battle for approval with the board of directors, he nodded to Derringer, who accepted the conn for the current meeting.
“After the previous mission, it’s certainly understandable that many of us are wary of the Israelis. Yes, they stiffed us before and they’re capable of doing it again. But to what end? They’re in a bind, which is exactly why they offered us this contract. In fact, they’re not even trying to lowball us. So if Tel Aviv hangs us out to dry, the government will be exposed not only to its political opposition, but to the world at large.” He shook his head. “So no, I don’t think we’re taking any unwarranted risks. But I agree that we should proceed with caution. We’ll get to that later.
“Now, as to your second question, that’s problematic. Believe it or not, we still have friends in the Pentagon and on the hill. There’s also the matter of practicality to consider. Some of the suits around town may not care to be seen in our company, but they know what’s at stake in South Lebanon. If Hezbollah gains a permanent foothold, it’ll certainly lead to a bigger, wider conflict. That’s in nobody’s interest, except Iran’s. So like us or not, we’re probably going to get a pass from the administration.”
Carmichael sat back, drumming her manicured fingers on the table. “I see your point, Admiral. But I’d like to start planning right now for a way to extract our people on short notice. In fact, I want to develop a primary plan and an alternate.”
Leopole took up the sentiment. “Concur with Sandy. Once we know how many operators we’ll need, and how they’ll be deployed, we should have our own assets in place. This looks like another potential job for Terry Keegan. After all, he’s the resident expert in dustoffs on hot LZs.” The former Marine grinned self-consciously. In recent years the dedicated leatherneck had bought a few rounds for Mr. Keegan, erstwhile squid and dedicated rotorhead.
“Very well,” Derringer interjected. “However, I’ll arrange for Frank and Sandy to meet with our Israeli liaison. He’s the one who contacted me, and in fact he expects to coordinate with our operations officers in drafting a presentation for the people we’ll use. It will probably be a few days.”
“Sir, who is the contact?” Leopold asked.
“Mordecai Baram. Officially he’s their embassy rep for science and agriculture but obviously he does other things as well.”
Sandy Carmichael leaned her elbows on the table. “Frankly, sir, that makes me nervous. We relied on one major contact with the yellow cake mission and we got hammered as a result. I’d feel better if we had broader support, from their embassy and maybe some military folks. Later we’ll need more…”
“Yes, that’s been arranged,” Derringer replied. He looked around the room. “Remember, everyone, this is a fairly large operation, requiring detailed coordination as well as secrecy. If you’re thinking that’s a tall order, you’re right. There are multiple layers with multiple players, including third-party nationals. But we are not — I repeat not — going into this project with our eyes half open. I’ve had a couple of frank discussions with Mr. Baram, who seems to understand our concerns. He’ll be here in person in a few days and I think you’ll find him open and knowledgeable.” He paused, sensing the mood in the room. It came to him as a mixture of anticipation leavened with skepticism.
“All right, then. Sandy, Frank, you’re authorized to start compiling a preliminary list of operators. Matt Finch already has a heads-up, combing the data bank for those with instructor backgrounds, Mideast experience, and Arabic language. As usual, we’ll go with Omar on a training program.”
As the meeting broke up, Leopole and Carmichael retreated to a far corner. “Whatchutink?” he asked.
“I think, better the devil you know than the one you don’t.”
“Well, we know this one,” Leopole replied, “and that’s the devil we’re dancing with.”
“There they are.”
The Hezbollah scout was twenty-two years old and had nearly seven years of experience. He knew the area intimately, from the days he played hide-and-seek with his two brothers and five cousins.
Of those seven playmates, two cousins were still living; one remained addled after a miraculous survival from an Israeli shelling several years ago.
The scout had noticed the Israeli-Druze team taking a night defensive position just below the crest of a hummock. It was well chosen, for though the position was only about eight meters above the surrounding terrain, it afforded an excellent view of most approaches. If not for a metallic glint in the slanting light, the Zionists might have gone undetected.
Ahmad Esmaili squatted beside his Lebanese colleague and squinted into the sunset. He detected nothing — no reflection, no movement. “You are certain?”
Tawfiq merely nodded, keeping his eyes on the rock pile that was his reference point.
“What is on the reverse slope?”
“More rocks, a little steeper. They will have one or two men watching that side.”
Esmaili thought for a moment. This was a rare opportunity and he wanted to optimize it. “Do you think these are the ones who have been hunting us?”
Another nod. Tawfiq was a man of deeds, not words.
Esmaili patted the scout on the shoulder. “Keep looking.” Then the Iranian slid sideways, rejoining the rest of his patrol in the brush. Gathering his fighters around him, he sketched the situation in the dirt. “The Jews are on this small hill about seventy meters ahead. They are positioned to watch all approaches so we will wait.”
“How long, Teacher?” Sarif was new; devout beyond all question and eager to learn but also too eager to act.
An orange-yellow wolf’s grin shone on the evening’s face. “Until they come to us.”
“Why will they do that?”
“Because they must.”
3
Dawn’s gray hues stretched themselves across the landscape, revealing the eastern slopes of Al Janub’s hummocks and hills. Well concealed within the shadows, the Hezbollah fighters had been deployed for nearly an hour before they saw movement on the hill.
Ahmed Esmaili had considerable knowledge of ambushes, and he was well enough educated to share the Christian sentiment that ‘tis more blessed to give than receive. He was confident that the Zionists descending the higher terrain were unaware of the ballistic gifts he intended to dispense.
A whisper slid through the dawn. “Avri, I’ve got something.” Golem lowered the Galil with a Litton generation III thermal sight and compared the green image he had just seen with his unaided vision.
“What is it?”
The designated marksman leaned forward from his sitting position beside a Joshua tree. “About 120 to 150 meters or so, on the far side of that gully. It’s not moving but there’s some kind of heat source.”
Avrim Edrim knelt beside the shooter. “Could it be an animal?”
The rifle was back on Golem’s shoulder, his master eye scrutinizing the object. “Maybe. It’s an irregular shape. Probably behind a shrub or something.”
“Take your time. See if there’s anything else out there.” Then Edrim emitted a low whistle, catching the attention of the other eight men. The nearest pair saw him gesture palm down and passed the word. In seconds the team disappeared behind rocks and foliage.
Two minutes passed in the gathering light. At length, Golem lowered his Galil. “There’s another source maybe one hundred meters northeast. The first target still has not moved.”
The captain leaned close. “Go back to the top and scan the other side. If there’s no sign, we’ll leave that
