Chapter Eight Presentation by CIA and NSA

“The CIA sees the following:
“Over the past five years, Iran has been benefiting from high profits in oil. They have made substantial amounts of money which they are investing in further developing their nuclear program. Our agency estimates that their current investment is in the billions of dollars, between locations and personnel they have acquired on the open market.”

McDonald turns on the overhead projector, then begins a PowerPoint presentation to underline her message. The first image, not surprisingly, is a map of Iran.

One at a time, she locates on the screen the sites CIA has designated as potentially nuclear sites. Karaj, Ab-Ali, Natanz, Arak, and another in Ardekan. “These are the sites they we are sure of,” she tells the group. “What we don’t know is if there are others. We do know of other sites that are necessary for the enrichment process, but which do not enrich uranium themselves.

“To date we have learned of approximately four hundred and fifty nuclear experts working in Iran who were hired from Russia, China, North Korea and Pakistan. We believe as well, as does the NSA, that Russia is Iran’s prime supplier of nuclear materials, know-how, and personnel to Iran. We suspect that Iran has become a major customer of Russia’s in arms dealings. Iran is probably Russia’s third or fourth largest customer for nuclear arms purchases of some type.” She paused to let this thought sink in.

“We know about the creation of Iran’s new Shahab-3 missile,” McDonald continued, as an image of one appeared on the screen, “and we are getting information that they plan to develop ways to launch it from their Kilo-class submarines, the same way we do cruise missiles. We have good evidence that they have ordered two more Kilo-class subs from Russia which when delivered will give them six that we know of.” The image on the screen of a Shahab-3 is replaced by that of a Kilo-class sub.

“Israel and the nations of Europe are already under threat. If Iran can deploy those missiles from submarines, then we have to accept the fact that American cities are no longer safe.”

Experiences with Publishing Part One

In January of 2008, I completed my novel “Behind The Lies” after twenty-six months of writing. Usually a writer who desires to get published immediately thinks of finding an agent in order to get published.

The next three months I contacted thirty-one agents. Six of them I found in published books of successful writers of military fiction. They had no interest in dealing with a beginner author.

Next, I contacted twenty-five agents who post themselves on the internet with interest in military thriller genre. Guess what, only twelve of them ever responded to my inquiry asking what they required to consider my manuscript. Ten of the twelve send me the standard rejection notice and the funny thing one of the rejection notices didn’t even have the book title correct.

However, two women agents responded by saying: the first one said, “She is not the right agent for this book but encouraged me to continue as she felt it is a good book.” The second one said, “She is not the right agent for the book but felt that the book is sellable.”

Going through this process I learned that even if you find an agent who will seek a publisher for you. It could take anywhere from a year to eighteen months for the book to be published. Plus the average royalty rate is 5%.

One of my wife’s clients who creates children’s books told me about the world of self-publishing. She said, “If you really feel your book is worthwhile for readers take a look at getting it self published.”

Next posting I will discuss my adventures in considering looking for an editor and the world of self publishing.

Chapter Seven Mossad Proposes

Entering, Wattenberg sees Prime Minister Yaakov Brumwell sitting in his favorite leather chair. A small man, he actually looks lost in it. Brumwell reminds Wattenberg of Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion. Ben-Gurion was small of stature, with thinning hair and a stern look on his face most of the time. Regardless, he was a giant of a leader. Brumwell, however, has a way about him with people that Ben-Gurion never had. He listens, and he doesn’t jump to conclusions. “Come in, come in,” Brumwell says warmly, another trait in which he and Ben-Gurion would have differed.

“I’ve given Mossad’s proposal of a covert action a great deal of thought,” he says, settling back in his chair. “However, we need to iron out some issues before I can make a decision.”

Wattenberg sits down in an equally comfortable chair in front of Brumwell’s desk, wondering where this conversation is going to go. “What issues do we need to discuss?” Wattenberg asks noncommittally.

“Well, for one thing, Ariel, how much time do you estimate we’ll need for an operation such as you have proposed to bring us positive results?”

“We estimate that it will take us, at minimum, one and possibly as much as three months to get reliable information, Yaakov. Of course, we’ll with have contact with our team on a schedule that will allow us to make real-time decisions to continue or to withdraw.”

“Who will set up the itinerary for your team to follow, or are they going to have carte blanche?”

“Mossad will set up the itinerary. Yosef Bergman will be the team’s inside contact.”

“Have you invented identities for these two so they don’t end up on CNN exposed as Israeli spies?”

“Of course, Yaakov. Yosef and I will meet with them, first to simply see if they believe this plan of ours is really feasible. Right now it is only a brainstorm. We are simply asking for your permission to proceed, to see if this idea can become a reality.”

“How much money do you expect this little brainstorm of yours will cost us?” asks Brumwell.

“Will it be cheap? Certainly not,” replies Wattenberg. “Is it necessary? I would say very definitely.”

Brumwell looks down at his desk, then slowly raises his eyes to meet Wattenberg’s again. “What I want you to do, before I can give my final decision, my friend, is to meet with these gentlemen. Have them sign a Mossad secrecy document. Work up what their fees would be for three months, cost of equipment to do the job efficiently, cost of insertion and removal, plus an emergency extraction plan, should that become necessary.” The prime minister looks down momentarily, then looks back up at Wattenberg. “I have to tell you, Ariel, this idea of yours intrigues me.” Wattenberg dares to look hopeful, but Yaakov Brumwell raises a hand. “And it scares me to death.”

“I know,” Wattenberg says heavily. “I feel the same way.”

Chapter Six Beginning of May

Wednesday afternoon at one forty-five p.m., McDonald’s car pulls up before the National Security Agency’s headquarters. Inside, she approaches a guard, M. Malden, according to his ID badge, who dutifully checks his list of expected arrivals, but fails to find her name there.

“I have a two o’clock appointment with the director,” she states coldly.

M. Malden goes to check with his fellow guards, then returns to his station and informs her that none of the guards have her on their lists. McDonald feels her blood begin to simmer.

M. Malden picks up the phone at his station and calls the director’s office.

“That’s odd,” Janet says, flustered. John Walker rarely lets her in on his intended insults and manipulations, and she hates getting drawn into one of them. “It must be an oversight. Please tell the director I’ll be right down. I’ll escort Ms. McDonald to the conference room personally.”

M. Malden repeats Janet’s words verbatim. Gee,wonder why I have a bad feeling about how how this meeting’s going to go, McDonald’s brain mutters darkly.

Janet stays with her in the conference room until her boss arrives. McDonald’s brain’s mutterings grow darker with every minute she sits ignoring Janet’s minute-by-minute apologies for his delay. She finds herself looking at the clock’s second hand to see if her apologies actually spaced a minute apart, and smiles to herself when she finds that she’s right. Where do they find these people, she has to wonder

Chapter Five Recruits Will Travel

“So, how do our new recruits look?” Atwan asks the party to whom he speaks on the phone.

“Everything appears to be what we expect it to be. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nor are we are getting any word of them mentioning anything,” answers the caller.

“Good. Set their pick-ups in motion. Everything according to plan,” says Atwan, the man with the Supreme Leader’s ear. “Notify me when they have completed their training sessions, before they officially begin their assignments. I will wish to speak with them again.”

The phone rings four times before the sleeping Muhammad Abdullah wakes to answer it.
“Who is calling at this hour?” is all Abdullah can think to ask.

“You need to get used to the unexpected on your new assignment, Muhammad,” the caller says. “Tomorrow you must prepare to leave. Be ready to be picked up at 0200 the following morning. Pack enough clothing and toiletries for one week. The rest will be provided for you. A green jeep with a driver and a relief driver will take you to your first assignment,” continues the anonymous voice. “Be standing outside of your apartment. Don’t make them wait.”

“Can I ask where I will be going?”

“No, you cannot. Nor will you know when you arrive. Do not be late for the pick-up.” The phone line goes dead.

Relief driver? Where the hell are they taking me?

Within the next fifteen minutes, both Kamil Hussein and Hamid Dakham receive similar phone calls. They are told to be ready at 0400 hours the following night, that a red station wagon will be picking them up, Hussein first, Dakham ten minutes later. The caller emphasizes that they should not be late.

Chapter Four Later After The Meeting

Yosef Bergman is the last one to leave the meeting; Avi Singer and Shlomo Herzl have each gone their separate ways. It being very late, he decides not to phone the director of Mossad tonight. Rather, he will meet with him in his office first thing in the morning. Heading home allows him time to think, before he approaches the director with the idea the three of them have agreed upon.

Yosef Bergman is forty-five years of age, though he looks thirty. His six-foot height, broad shoulders, dark complexion and jet black hair all serve to reinforce his role as a leader within the organization. Bergman is a sabra, a native born Israeli.

In the Yom Kippur War, he saw the Arab armies’ treachery and ruthlessness first hand and made a promise to himself that he would dedicate his life to protecting his country’s security. He did not anticipate that his dedication would consume his whole life, leaving very little time for anything remotely resembling a personal life.

Tonight the pressures of leadership weigh heavily upon his mind. Israel must know what’s really happening inside of Iran. Can we pull it off by sending a couple of desert rats in search of evidence? Can these two obtain the factual proof that Israel must have? Or am I just sending two more Israelis to the slaughter, and probably causing another international incident in the attempt?

In spite of his serious mood, Bergman walks through the streets of Tel Aviv smiling, knowing that even with the constant threat of terrorism, he’s probably safer here than anywhere else in the world. He reaches the door of his apartment, enters, deactivates the security system, turns on the lights and throws his keys on the dining room table. Opening the refrigerator, he takes out a cold beer

Chapter Three CIA Presentation

“The reason I’ve called you all here this afternoon,” the president goes on, “is that Allison feels we all need to be brought up to speed on a critical situation she sees developing in Iran. A nuclear threat. Allison, the floor is yours.” And this better be good, my dear.

“Thank you, sir,” McDonald says, then gets right into the meat of her presentation with little preamble. “We are all aware of the rhetoric that the president of Iran has been putting out over Iran’s right to have nuclear capabilities for domestic use. This is nothing new. However, Iran’s recently elected president has an advantage that past presidents have not had. Iran is beginning to sit quite comfortably on a major influx of money because of the skyrocketing price of oil. And they appear to be using a great deal of that money for major expansion of their nuclear program.”

John Anderson, with short, thick grey hair, a receding hairline and a bulldog jaw, puts his elbows on the attaché case that sits across his lap. Locking his hands and dropping his chin upon them, he looks up at McDonald, consciously working to keep from appearing irritated. “Excuse me. Hasn’t the IAEA given Iran a clean bill of health, nuclear-wise?” he asks her pointedly. “The president of Iran’s toeing the line.” I’ve had it with you Central Intelligence types crying wolf.

McDonald has gotten used to John Anderson’s attitude when it comes to the CIA. She continues unrattled. “You’re right, John. But may I point out that the IAEA is the same agency that failed to detect Iran’s hidden nuclear program for over twenty years. So, are we to sit back and believe the IAEA, or do we look at the level of intelligence we’re gathering to make decisions in the best interest of the United States?”

“Whaddya got here, new information, or merely a comb-through of old intel?” John Walker interrupts. My people aren’t tellin’ me this, thinks the national security advisor, a burly, cantankerous, white-haired man who both speaks and thinks in the pronounced southern accent of a boy born and bred in southwest Georgia.

“Intelligence reports indicate that Iran has several nuclear development sites, as you know, John,” McDonald says with a slightly exaggerated politeness. “That, of course, is not new. However we now know that Iran has over four hundred fifty nuclear experts on their payroll, and that is new information.” Walker may look mollified, but he’s far from it.

“I certainly don’t have to remind any of you,” she goes on, looking around at all of them, “that their secret nuclear weapons program is being supervised by both the military and their Supreme Leader. The president is merely a mouthpiece. The Supreme Leader has all the control, the Supreme Leader and the mullahs he has chosen to serve as his Guardian Council."