newspaper with an article highlighted:
Reports from reliable sources indicate that Hezbollah has sought Iranian assistance in obtaining “suitcase bombs” capable of producing small nuclear detonations. Speaking anonymously, military spokesmen said that entry into Israel from southern Lebanon is the most likely approach. A well-placed Tel Aviv source stated that the situation is viewed with concern at the cabinet level.
However, opposition cabinet ministers note that similar, though unfounded, concerns have arisen before, and polling indicates little public enthusiasm for committing Israeli forces to Lebanon again. Observers in Tel Aviv generally believe that further action will await more of a national consensus.
Derringer looked up from the paper. “Yeah. I’ve heard about this. After the Soviet Union collapsed, apparently a lot of backpack nukes were missing. But what’s SSI’s connection?”
Baram retrieved the paper and tucked it in his raincoat. He waited until a train rattled by on the opposite track. “Your team might be in danger.”
Derringer’s gray eyes widened behind his Navy-issue glasses. “You’re saying that there are portable nukes in Lebanon?”
“We believe so.”
SSI’s founder looked left and right. No one stood close enough to hear. “Then what do you recommend?”
“We want you to find them.”
Captain Rami Hamadeh hung up the satellite phone and turned to Frank Leopole. “That was Northern Command, General Nadel’s brigade. We are alerted to expect a major Hezbollah effort within twenty-four hours. You should contact the El-Arian team right away.”
Leopole sorted priorities in his mind. “All right, I’ll call Chris on the command net. The scrambler should provide the security we need. But what does Northern Command mean by a ‘major effort? And how much support can we expect?”
Hamadeh stood up and consulted his notes. “Enemy forces: estimated at company strength or better. Intentions: apparently to seize this place and possibly El-Arian. Enemy ability…” He looked at the American. “You know that already, Frank. Mortars and probably automatic weapons. They seem to respect our night vision so I’d plan for a dawn attack but be ready for anything.”
“They probably can’t take both places with a single company, at least not at the strength of about 150 men. So that tells me they’ll concentrate here or there unless they just want to divert our attention from someplace else.” He shrugged. “Too many unknowns, Rami. They could just as well have a battalion out there.”
The Israeli Druze officer nodded his agreement. “That may be. In any case, the background seems consistent: they’re been surveying and leveling sites in this area, apparently for new missile or rocket batteries. They probably want to control this entire area before their next big barrage, and that means they’ll come at us in whatever force is needed.”
“Which takes me back to my other question. What kind of support will we get from Nadel’s brigade?”
“The operations officer says a reaction force is standing by, capable of ground or helicopter transport. Believe me, Solomon Nadel will support us as much as anyone. But he can’t launch a relief effort without approval from the defense ministry because of public concern about more involvement here.”
“You mean, it’s politics.”
“Frank, I don’t know about America, but in Israel, everything is politics, and it’s
Leopole rubbed his chin, staring at the floor. “I can understand those concerns, Rami, but does the ministry understand our situation? If we get pushed hard — really hard — we can’t survive outside this village. There’s nowhere to go; we’ll get chopped up if we’re driven out in the open.”
“Well, between you and me, I’m reliably informed that some air support is possible. It depends on weather, of course, and the way things are looking, the attack is likely to come with low cloud ceilings.”
“What about comm? I mean, somebody to direct air attacks.”
The Israeli gave a knowing grin. “It so happens that I attended the close air support course when I was promoted to captain. I can direct gunships or jets.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. And let’s hope these militiamen can do what we’ve trained them to do.”
Hamadeh folded his arms and leaned against the deck. “Frank, where do you live? In the States, I mean.”
“Arlington, Virginia. Why?”
“Well, if a bunch of heavily armed fanatics attacked Arlington, Virginia, wouldn’t your citizens fight like hell to defend their homes?”
A tiny prickling sensation crept up Frank Leopole’s spine. He thought:
Rather than confess his doubts, Leopole said, “Everybody I know sure would.”
“Well, there you go. It’s the same here, where everybody knows everybody else — and has for four hundred years.”
Derringer took Baram back to the office and immediately convened a meeting. Everyone remotely associated with the Lebanon contract was needed, and those not present were summoned.
Marshall Wilmont shook his head. “This makes no sense, none at all. If the Israelis themselves can’t agree on the suitcase threat, why send us chasing all over Lebanon for something that likely doesn’t exist?”
Baram permitted himself a chuckle. “Politics, my friend. That is, Israeli domestic politics. Did you see the musical
“You’re saying that sounds like the Israeli government.”
“No, I am saying that
Wilmont appreciated the humor. “But it doesn’t take an invasion to deal with some backpack nukes. Why not send some covert spec-ops teams?”
“Well, let us just say that recent efforts along those lines led to your contract.”
As SSI’s legal director, Corin Pilong knew about contracts. “Excuse me for interjecting business at this point, but if we’re going to do more than training, it should involve an amendment to the contract.”
Baram blinked in response. He appeared surprised at the no-nonsense comment from that baby-doll face.
“Corin’s right,” Derringer interjected. “We have a separate fee scale for training and for operations.”
Recovering his composure, Baram waved a hand. “Given the very serious nature of the new threat, I cannot imagine that finances will be a problem. I will consult with Tel Aviv today. But I will need more information.”
“Very well,” Derringer said. “Mordecai, if you’ll consult with Corin, I think the rest of us have a lot to do this afternoon.”
Down the hall, Sandy Carmichael huddled with Matthew Finch of Personnel and Jack Peters, who usually handled SSI recruiting.
“If we’re going after nuclear stuff again, we couldn’t do better than Bernie Langevin,” Carmichael began.
Finch nodded. “Concur. He stuck it out all through the Chad episode and the chase for the
Peters was out of the scientific loop, and did not mind saying so. “I’ve not dealt with him. What’s the story?”
Carmichael knew the details. “Major Bernard Langevin, PhD, USAF Reserve (Ret), has his feet in three
