Century of Jihad (10 page)

‘Remember, you and your team will have the element of surprise on your side. The police will take crucial seconds to come to terms with the situation. You will kill any police who stand in your way. You will proceed as quickly as possible to the location of the reactor building, which is surrounded by a chain link fence. You will stop outside the secure compound in which the reactor building is located, as we must assume that the police at the point of entry to the reactor compound will have by then been alerted by their colleagues at the Main Gate. At this point, a member of your team will go through a hatch, which will have been created at the top of the trailer, and onto the roof which he will use as a raised firing platform. He will be armed with the RPG7, which you will have at your disposal. He will be carrying the PG-7VR charge. Remember from your training, this can penetrate steel, brick and reinforced concrete. The reactor is housed inside a structure made of concrete and steel, approximately one metre thick. This is within the range of penetration. You will fire one or two rounds at the reactor building. The RPG7 operator must ensure his missiles go over the chain link fence, as this is likely to stop them reaching their target. While this is happening, the other members of your team will have left the truck and taken up covering positions. As a result of your assault, the plant operator will have to shut down the reactor as a safety precaution, even if the damage caused by your attack is only superficial. At this point, we must assume that all available off-duty members of the CNC will have been recalled to reinforce their overwhelmed colleagues. The CNC control room will also have alerted the local Police, who will be deploying to the site. It will take time for these reinforcements to assemble, assess the situation and organise themselves. There will also be heavy political interference with their operation.’

Again Salim stopped speaking momentarily. Ahmed remained silent, looking at Salim and waiting for him to continue.

‘This time will be spent by you finding a secure location from which to operate during the siege element of the operation. You must buy as much time as you can, preferably several days, in order that we gain as much publicity as we can, and to create as much pressure on the Government as possible. Also, your holding out will prove highly disruptive to power supplies. Remaining close to the reactor compound would be to your advantage, as this may prove an impediment to their operations. After a maximum of three days, if you are still resisting at that point, you will mount an assault on the security force positions. No member of your team should survive this operation, which will be a major blow to the ‘’Little Satan", and a warning to non-believers everywhere of our power and our ability to strike anywhere.’

Salim stared deeply into Ahmed’s eyes. ‘That is all for now, my brother. Do you have any questions?’

Ahmed looked unseeingly at the pile of papers on his lap. His head was spinning. He replied in a flat tone, ‘Nothing for now.’

Salim continued, ‘Very well. You must go and brief your team. You must emphasise the importance of security and caution to them. I will be in touch again in a few days. I will answer any questions then.’

Ahmed returned the papers to the brown envelope and placed it inside the briefcase. Then, briefcase in hand, he left the vehicle.

Lieutenant Steve Zaslawski, US Army Special Forces, sat on his parents’ living room couch listening attentively to the news broadcast. It was a news report from the UK which had grabbed his attention.

The report covered a terror attack on a nightclub in the centre of London, by Muslim extremists, at just after midnight on Saturday, 11
^th
December. Steve did a quick mental calculation. It was now 8am Saturday, 11
^th
December in Sausalito, California. That meant, with an eight hour time difference, it was now 4pm in London, UK. So the attack had taken place almost sixteen hours previously. This was the second attack by terrorists in London in less than a week.

Steve had a particular interest in developments of this nature in the UK. He was one year into a three year secondment to the British Special Air Service Regiment (SAS). He was currently on two weeks’ leave back home in the States, and was due to return to the UK and the Headquarters of the SAS at Credenhill, Herefordshire on Tuesday, 14
^th
December. On his return to duty, his SAS Squadron – one of four – was scheduled to assume the role of the CT, Counter Terrorism, Squadron, on standby to deal with any terrorist threat.

Steve, aged thirty, was five foot, eight inches tall, of wiry build. He had grown up in the small, picturesque town of Sausalito, just across the bay from San Francisco. His decision to join the US Army had been greatly inspired by listening to his grandfather’s stories of his wartime exploits. His grandparents had been born in the 1920s, in different regions of Poland. In 1939, at the beginning of the Second World War, they and their families had been transported as political prisoners by the Russians to Siberia. Following their liberation from Russian captivity, they ended up in Palestine, where his grandfather joined the Army and served with distinction, fighting for the Allied Forces in campaigns in North Africa and Italy. After the war, they initially came to Britain where they met, married and his father was born. In the late 1950s, his grandfather took a job with Boeing Aircraft Corporation in Seattle, and the young family emigrated to the United States, eventually acquiring US citizenship.

At eighteen, his father, George, left Seattle and travelled south down the West Coast to California to study law in San Francisco. Here, George met and married Cara, a budding artist of Italian stock, settling in Sausalito across the Bay. Cara opened a small café/art gallery, whilst George worked in San Francisco. When Steve was born, his grandparents moved from Seattle to Sausalito and looked after him whilst his parents worked.

Steve had had an idyllic childhood. Sausalito, with its beautiful wooden homes, sat on the shore of the Bay. His parents’ house, the one he had grown up in, sat on the steep slope rising up from Main Street on the shore line. With its vista across the bay, its marina, its bright tourist-orientated shops, cafes, restaurants and art galleries, Steve had spent his childhood in a covetable setting. On a clear day, the skyline of the city of San Francisco could be seen in the distance. However, the city and its famous bridge were often shrouded in mist which would drift in from the Bay.

Steve felt privileged to have grown up in this environment. Not far from his home town was Muir Woods National Monument, a natural place of beauty. Here Coast Redwoods, also known as Sequoias – many over 600 years old – grew among standing dead trees. During his childhood, Steve had been fascinated by these trees which, before the time of the Gold Rush, had populated this part of the Californian coast.

Sadly, these natural forests had been ruthlessly decimated to provide timber for the rapidly growing city of San Francisco. The redwoods were replaced by imported eucalyptus trees from Australia, which had originally been planted as a quick growing source of wood to provide timber for use in the construction of the railways. But they were found to be lacking for this purpose.

When he was a child, his parents would take him for a ride on the world famous San Francisco cable cars. Once used to take people up the city’s steep slopes from the shoreline, they were now more a tourist attraction than a serious part of the city’s transport network. As a child and young man, Steve would take the ferry across the Bay, sailing past the former island prison of Alcatraz, made famous in many Hollywood films. At one time home to many of America’s most infamous criminals, now a tourist attraction.

Steve loved the city – its bright, wooden Victorian homes, ‘The Painted Ladies’; the cosmopolitan atmosphere with its Italian Quarter, delineated on the lampposts; its large, colourful and noisy Chinatown, still home to a large ethnic Chinese population whose origins dated back to the Gold Rush, and full of Chinese restaurants and shops selling Chinese-style clothes, furniture and food products. Not to be missed on any of his visits to San Francisco, was Fisherman’s Wharf. A major attraction, not only for tourists but for locals as well, with restaurants, tourist shops, cafes and street entertainment. Its latest, natural attraction – the sea lions – had made their home on wooden pontoons at the end of Pier 39 after the 1989 earthquake, now provided hours of amusement to young and old alike. Steve felt that San Francisco held a wonderfully, relaxed and welcoming atmosphere for everyone.

When Steve had heard of his secondment to the British Special Air Service, he had been elated at the prospect of serving with such an internationally renowned military outfit and considered the opportunity could only advance his career ambitions. In the twelve months he had so far spent with the organisation, he had gained and learned a lot from his experience. Whilst most of the skills and training were not so much different from his US Special Forces training, and his SAS counterparts were not dissimilar from his colleagues in the US – the ability to think for one’s self, leadership skills and confidence being common essentials – there were, nonetheless, differences in deployment and tactics. A knowledge of which, he felt, could only enhance his tradecraft.

Steve had found the British weather not unlike the weather he had grown up with in his part of the California coast, although Sausalito itself has its own little micro-climate which keeps it warmer and sunnier and less affected by fog than San Francisco. He enjoyed the countryside around Herefordshire with its beautiful landscape – the River Wye meandering through the Wye Valley; the market towns with their Tudor buildings, the woodlands and Iron Age hill forts. He had marvelled at the splendid ancient yew tree in the grounds of St Bartholomew’s church, an English Gothic church built around 1220AD, in the quaintly named village of Much Marcle. The tree was planted around 500AD, making it over 1500 years old, and it measured 31 feet in circumference. Herefordshire and the Welsh mountains beyond, used by the SAS for training, was like his home, a place of outstanding natural beauty and history. Steve felt fortune was indeed smiling down on him. He was really looking forward to going back.

The street was dark and gloomy. The only light came from the few street lamps that were still functioning and the dim glow from the now curtain-drawn properties. Ed and Lisa, along with the two surveillance officers, Rashida and Pete, were still watching and listening to the two terrorists.

Suddenly there was a knock on the side of the van. Rashida leaned over to slide it open. DAC Braithwaite, Inspector Ward and the CO19 Specialist Firearms Commander climbed into the surveillance van, which was still parked just down the road from the terraced property where the two suspects were holed up.

‘Good evening!’ DAC Braithwaite greeted the van’s occupants with irony. ‘Any new developments here?’

‘Nothing to speak of. They have been cleaning their weapons, and talking about their forthcoming battle with the forces of evil. They each have an AK47 assault rifle, and plenty of ammo. They are displaying signs of nervousness, with gung-ho talk and nervous laughter,’ Ed said in reply.

Inspector Ward looked at the CCTV screen and saw the two men inside the target address. One of the two was sitting just behind the curtained living room window. The other was pacing up and down the room. They were in their early twenties. Ward found himself reflecting on how their current situation and mindset compared to that of other young men of their age. Young men like his younger brother and his friends who, at this time on a Saturday, were preparing for a night out on the town.

Ed continued, ‘As you are aware, CO19 are deployed both front and back of the terrace. There is an assault team ready to go at a moment’s notice. We are evacuating the residents in the other houses in the terrace and also the residents in properties which are in the line of fire.’

The CO19 commander listened in silence, his police radio blurting out the occasional static message into his ear.

Outside in the cold night air, police officers were quietly moving from house to house, rousing people who were settling down to a relaxing evening in front of their TVs in the warmth and security of their homes. Many were startled by the sudden appearance of police officers on their doorsteps, and concerned at being told to assemble family members and put on warm clothing for an unexpected excursion due to a ‘developing situation, which will be explained once you and your family are in a safe environment’.

Residents were confused and disorientated by the evacuation instruction, which did not always meet with total and unquestioning co-operation from the public. As families gathered on the doorsteps of their homes, huddled in their warm outdoor clothing, they were told to remain silent until told otherwise, and to move quickly following one of the police officers.

There was another knock on the side of the van. On hearing this, Ed commented,

‘It’s getting a bit crowded in here. I don’t think we’ve room for any more.’

Rashida once again slid open the door. The Inspector who had been in charge of the evacuation was standing on the pavement beside the van. He announced:

‘All residents have been evacuated safely. No problems to report. I hope my people didn’t wake your targets from their slumbers!’

‘Many thanks, Inspector, and well done to your men,’ came the reply from Inspector Ward, who slid the door shut.

DAC Braithwaite commented, ‘I think we are now ready to contact our friends across the way. Unfortunately there’s no phone number available at that address. Let’s first move this vehicle a little further down the road. I wouldn’t like any stray bullets coming our way! I fear these people aren’t going to come quietly.’

Pete, the surveillance officer, left through the side door of the van. A minute later the vehicle’s engine sprang to life and the occupants felt movement as they were driven the short distance out of harm’s way. The van was once again motionless.