Читать книгу The Red Cell - André Le Gallo - Страница 8

Ghassem Yosemani, the Yas Air Boeing 737’s only passenger, gazed toward the South, mindful he was within easy striking distance of both the Americans and the Israelis. After a circuitous route from Tehran to avoid surveillance by the U.S. and Israeli air forces, the aircraft, bought secondhand from Venezuela, circled over Damascus, the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world.

General Yosemani hated Iran’s pariah status, which forced him to sneak into a country that historically and by rights still ought to have no more than provincial status in a Persian empire. Most galling was having to use old American equipment. He yearned for the day when Persia regained its rightful status among the world’s great powers. Instead of masquerading in a collarless civilian shirt, the gold wreaths on his black shoulder boards would shout to all he commanded the elite Quds Force, Iran’s intelligence and action arm.

He saw himself as Persia’s satrap for the Middle East, responsible for Hamas in Gaza, and Hizballah in Lebanon. Now, Syria’s regime needed his help to handle the rebels. He was the tip of the Persian spear.

Jamil Hassan, head of Idarat al Mukhabarat al Jawiyya, Syria’s Air Force Intelligence, welcomed him at the airport. On their way to Mukhabarat headquarters on Tahrir Square, Yosemani directed him to make a stop in Sayyida Zainab to pray at the shrine. Compared to the Quds Force commander, whose meticulously trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard and penetrating gaze conveyed an almost biblical authority, Hassan was shorter and rounder with a bushy white mustache. Yosemani knew the man had begun his climb up the ladder during the Hama massacre in 1982, when the Syrian intelligence and military had killed over 20,000 citizens. He was not fooled by Hassan’s jocular manner.

The serious bargaining didn’t begin until they were sitting in the Syrian’s spacious office under a large photo of Bashar al-Assad, the Syrian president whose fate, according to western observers, was to appear before a tribunal for crimes against humanity.

“I have good news for you, my brother,” Hassan said, leaning back in his easy chair. “But first, tell me what you can do to snuff out this rebellion. It is over a year old, and these foreign terrorists keep attacking my men. Jabhat al-Nusra is causing us serious damage. Al Qaeda keeps pouring more men and weapons into the country. It is an international force. Amazing, they’re coming from all over the world.”

“What else do you want?” Yosemani asked, hiding his disdain for Arabs in general and for this one in particular, sipping strong coffee from French porcelain. “You still have hundreds of my best men. They tell me the training is not going well, because your men can’t read or write. They know more about goats and donkeys than weapons.”

“I have too many men—officers—defecting to the terrorists.” Hassan said, sitting up. “And although I banned the foreign press, too many stories from the traitors are getting out. Our sarin attacks are having wonderful results. The rebels are retreating but, somehow, the press has gotten hold of the story. I really don’t give a damn about United Nations condemnations, and I really don’t understand Western thinking. According to their own figures, there are almost one-hundred-thousand deaths since the start of the uprising, but that number caused almost no reaction. Now, the Americans are threatening to arm the rebels because, again, according to their lying numbers, our use of gas warfare killed fifteen hundred more people. Why are these fifteen hundred more significant than the hundred thousand that preceded them?”

“You didn’t buy enough correspondents when they could be had for a song, when they were starving for pro-Palestinian stories. It is still a good way to take their minds off what is going on here. Play the Palestinian card. Underline the centrality of the Palestinian issue.”

Yosemani was trying to add some subtlety to the Arab’s game in a way that also advanced Iranian policy, although he doubted Hassan could go beyond guns and violence. “Get the international community to focus on Israel, the source of all our problems, and the world will overlook the gas attacks,” he added.

“I know that,” Hassan replied. He waited, while a young man in uniform placed a bottle of water, two glasses, and a bowl of grapes and oranges on a small table between them.

The Iranian started peeling an orange and, looking directly at his Arab colleague, said, “this rebellion is lasting much too long. The longer it lasts, the more Jihadists it attracts. Starting next week, I’m going to truck in five-thousand Hizballah fighters from Lebanon, and you are going to eradicate this pestilence.”

Yosemani understood the Syrian conflict was not a simple popular rebellion against the Assad regime. There were wheels within wheels. The Sunnis against the Alewites. The seculars against the Jihadists. The Sunnis against the Shiites. All were backed by their own separate foreign supporters, among them Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Iran, Russia, Turkey, and, so far on the edges, Britain, France and, with Assad crossing the Americans’ so-called red line, the United States. Secular rebels were starting to focus their military activities against Hizballah mercenaries backing the regime. Hizballah leaders were asking for a quid pro quo. These sophisticated armaments would keep them quiet.

The Syrian clapped his hands. “I promise quick results, my brother.”

“At the same time, your government will ship one-hundred Russian SA-17 missiles, five-hundred tons of sarin, mustard, and VX gas canisters, fifty FATEH 110 surface-to-air missiles, and fifty Yakhout cruise missiles to the Hizballah in Lebanon. We must be ready for an attack on Israel, whether or not it attempts to attack your military nuclear program.”

Following a discussion on the logistics of the Iranian plan, Hassan said, “If you are still interested in dual-use equipment for your nuclear program, by the way, I have a new contact who could open many doors for you. As you know, our own efforts were successful, until the Zionists bombed our al-Khobar installation. Now, the Pakistani, A.Q. Khan, who sold us most of the plans, is under arrest, and we have other priorities. But we have a new source who seems anxious to do business. Give me a list and I will see what I can do.”

Yosemani took another sip of coffee, digesting the offer and wondering if Hassan’s recent visit to Brussels, a secret his own sources had reported, was related to the Syrian’s new business associate. “We have our own channels, you know,” he said, putting his cup down, “But I will keep your offer in mind. And what would be your finder’s fee?”

“Your nuclear project will benefit my country, and I am offering this as a gift of friendship,” Hassan said, raising his glass of water to his guest, who regarded the toast as strong as the content of Hassan’s glass.

“To what specific type of equipment does your new friend have access?”

“Across the board. He is a retired senior intelligence official and has entrée to the industrial captains of his country, and beyond. I can help you,” Hassan smiled.

In turn, Yosemani raised his cup to the Syrian.

He knew Louis DuChemin had retired from being director of the Belgian Sureté, the internal security service, six months before, and he had a reputation for having no love for the Americans, his country’s NATO allies. Yosemani saw no need for a go-between. He thought the trip to Damascus, as unpleasant as it was to deal with Arabs, had already paid off. He would simply call on DuChemin during his next visit to Brussels, which would be soon.

As he left the Syrian, Yosemani’s mind turned to the recent election of a new president in his country. He had always been able to get ahead and stay ahead by understanding Tehran’s politics. He guessed Hassan Rouhani would pay close attention to the prospect of either the United States or Israel attacking the country’s nuclear installations. But he also surmised Rouhani would be no more likely to stop the program than his predecessor. He had already considered retaliatory options, and his special operations units were ready to attack American installations in the Gulf with the help of the large Shiite populations in the coastal kingdoms.

At the same time, Yosemani had been supplying Semtex to the Iranian mission at the United Nations. Semtex, a military explosive he had bought from the defunct communist regime in Czechoslovakia, could be used with devastating results. Over time, he had used the diplomatic pouch to accumulate supplies of Semtex to his North American installations.

Yosemani suspected, however, the Americans were well prepared to defend against another attack on their homeland. He might try assassinating another key American, as his team had recently tried unsuccessfully in Washington. But he knew the Americans had stepped up their security resources to counter that possibility. The essence of effective warfare, especially when fighting an enemy as formidable as the Great Satan, was surprise, the ability to strike a strategic target that was not adequately defended.

There, he thought, lay his advantage. Since Washington’s leaders always prepared for the last war, they no doubt assumed the U.S. East Coast would be the site of the next attack. Al-Qaeda’s strike had programmed the Americans to concentrate on that prospect. He would therefore focus on the other side of the country.