Hazard (27 page)

It was up to Pinchon. He looked at the photograph of the valve, indignant that such a small thing should be a major obstacle. Everything had gone so well up to now. He considered the first alternative. It would mean getting a man into one of the United States bases such as Fort Detrick or Edgewood Arsenal, or finding a buyable man who was already in. Either would involve risk and time. Too much of both. “Are you certain there is no other way we can transfer the gas?”

Colonel Bayumi was positive.

“How long would it take to make this piece of equipment?”

“A week,” replied Bayumi, although he believed it would take longer.

“You have already arranged for it?”

“Of course,” said Bayumi, a lie. He would make arrangements as soon as he returned to Cairo. It would be extremely dangerous working on the valve, a matter of trial and no allowance for error, but Bayumi was sure he would find someone dedicated enough to want to do it.

“Any other problems?” Pinchon asked.

“Perhaps one.”

“Perhaps?”

“It appears Sadat has in mind dismissing Brigadier Fahmi.”

That was unexpected and bad news. “Why?”

“He suspects Fahmi may have been involved with the attempted coup last October.”

“Was he?”

“Only to the extent that he knew of it and said nothing. Passive disloyalty, Sadat calls it.”

Pinchon slammed his palm down on the desk. “Damn Sadat!”

“Fahmi may not be the only one to go. Rumors are there will be dismissals all down the line, including several other division commanders … anyone who has failed to show enthusiasm for Sadat's policies.”

“Sadat may find himself with an army and no officers. When will this purge take place?”

“Only Sadat knows that.”

There was, Pinchon realized, an advantage to these rumors. The high-ranking Egyptian officers who feared dismissal would now be all the more enterprising. Once Fahmi had matters under way the others would take the initiative without waiting for Sadat. They were also disgusted with Sadat's no-war war, eager to erase the reputation for military incompetence that had come with the Six-Day defeat. In about a week they'd have their chance, if in the interim Sadat didn't dismiss them and Brigadier-General Fahmi as well.

Pinchon didn't like thinking about that possibility. Fahmi was vital to the plan. Under his command were the Fourth and Sixth Infantry Divisions. Forty thousand men garrisoned mainly along the Suez. In perfect position. Included were three airborne border battalions and two paratroop brigades. The latter had been trained by the Russians and were reputed to be the sharpest fighting units the Egyptians had.

“If Fahmi should go who do you think will take over his command?”

“I am sure who it will be.” Bayumi beamed.

“You?”

“How else would I know so much about what Sadat has in mind?”

Pinchon did not show his relief, but there was no point in concealing the fact that he now considered Bayumi in a different light. Bayumi expected that, and now was no time to disappoint him.

Pinchon's foot found a signal button on the floor beneath the desk. Mustafa appeared in the doorway and Pinchon told him, “The colonel and I will have lunch here.”

Mustafa understood.

“Did you see to the reservation?”

“There were no seats available on the two o'clock flight.”

“As it works out, that's just as well. We haven't yet covered everything.”

Bayumi saw through all this, but reacted to it as politeness rather than deceit. He settled back, relaxed.

Pinchon got up and went to a nearby bookcase. He removed several volumes from a shoulder-high shelf and quickly opened a small wall safe. He had a thick sheaf of new five-hundred franc notes in his hand when he returned to his place. “Your expenses,” he told Bayumi. “You should have reminded me.” He placed the money on the desk, close to the front edge.

Bayumi estimated that there were at least five hundred five hundreds in the stack. He did not say thank you as he put them in his attaché case.

Pinchon reached under the desk and withdrew a leather-covered portfolio. A large portfolio with flaps that he opened left and right. It contained an elaborate map of the Middle East. There were circles and arrows, numbers and notations scribbled on it. “I thought we might use the time to go over the details,” he said.

Colonel Bayumi went around to the other side of the desk to share Pinchon's point of view.

The plan.

An intricate, audacious scheme from the mind of a resourceful fanatic. Over the past two years Pinchon had spent most of his time and a great deal of money piecing it together, covertly recruiting those he felt were essential to its success.

Several pieces had already moved nicely into place.

That the United States had developed the nerve gas vx–10 was a fact readily found in numerous recent books on the subject of chemical-biological warfare. It was also public knowledge that the United States had reduced its
C–W
stockpile by dumping some of it in the Atlantic Ocean. At first Pinchon tried to acquire the formula for vx–10. He found that impossible. It was too highly guarded a secret. He then considered using a common G-type nerve gas known as Sarin. Though Sarin was easily obtainable it lacked the swift, lethal efficiency of vx–10—for example, it evaporated too quickly in the air and could not be distributed with nearly as much accuracy. Only vx–10 would do. However, there was no way of getting any of it except from the floor of the Atlantic. Pinchon held little optimism for that prospect, until he learned of the special underwater recovery ship, the
Sea Finder.
Fortunately, the
Sea Finder
was planning an expedition to the Mediterranean. Pinchon set about through contacts to influence its itinerary, and shortly thereafter the Egyptian Ministry of Culture courteously invited the
Sea Finder's
archeological team to examine its archives in Alexandria. Still to be determined was exactly where in the Atlantic the United States had dumped the vx–10. That knowledge was not so hard to come by. The crews of various U.S. Navy cargo ships knew the location. A mere hundred dollars or an ounce of hashish would have been an adequate price. But, for personal reasons, Pinchon had preferred to deal with Carl.

So, two canisters of vx–10 were now at Pinchon's disposal. They had been stripped of their concrete encasements in Alexandria and taken to a hiding place in Cairo. As soon as the special valve key was made, the gas would be transferred into six aerial atomizing pods. The pods would be transported by truck at Al Burumbul, then east over a remote, seldom used road to Ras Za' Faranah and down the Red Sea coast to a destination twenty miles northwest of Al-Qusayr. A perfect, isolated area.

There the pods would be fitted onto three
MIG
–21 jet fighters. The planes were already there, waiting. Over the past six months each of these Egyptian Air Force planes had been reported lost while on routine patrol. Brigadier-General Fahmi had seen to that. The three pilots he'd chosen were more than willing to cooperate and had no difficulty putting their planes down on the open, hard-baked edge of the Eastern Desert.

In the dark early-morning hours of the appointed day the three
MIGS
would take off and proceed in formation on a northeasterly course across the Red Sea to Saudi Arabia and continue north over Jordan. This was the normal air corridor used by Arab planes bound for various bases in Syria.

Just prior to reaching the Syrian border the planes would alter course and head due east. At a speed of fifteen hundred miles per hour they would reach the Jordan-Israel border in less than two minutes. They would approach the border at an altitude of only one hundred feet, thereby avoiding detection by the Israeli radar screen. Maintaining that low level flight, they would pass over the River Jordan and enter Israeli air space at Al Ghwar (32 degrees 15 minutes north).

At that point the three planes would diverge. Plane one would go southwest to Tel Aviv. Plane three would head northwest to Haifa. Plane two would continue straight on to Nabulus. Planes one and three would each have only fifty miles to cover. Within two minutes they would be over their objectives. By half that time, plane two would have surprised the Israeli military base near Nabulus, releasing vx–10 over that area. In one pass it would wipe out an entire Israeli infantry division and three armored brigades, approximately fifteen thousand men. That would serve as an object lesson to the Israeli high command, demonstrating the inescapable, terrible death that would fall upon the seven hundred thousand people of Tel Aviv and Haifa, if the military refused to cooperate.

Timed to precede this phase of the operation, a group of Palestinian infiltrators, who had already established themselves in Tel Aviv as nonbelligerents would seize the Israeli Government radio service,
Kol Yisrael.
They would broadcast a general-surrender ultimatum, and simultaneously an official written ultimatum would be hand-delivered to Israeli high command headquarters and all key political leaders.

Any attempt to shoot down the planes over Tel Aviv and Haifa, even if successful, would be suicidal, bringing a mist of death down on those cities. The two Arab pilots would be honored to exchange their lives for those of seven hundred thousand Israelis.

While the planes continued to hover above Tel Aviv and Haifa (they would have fuel enough to maintain a holding pattern for five hours), Brigadier-General Fahmi would order his forces into action from the Egyptian military bases of Al-Kabrit, Al-Shallufa, and Deversoir. Motorized units of the Fourth and Sixth Infantry would cross the Suez and take over Israeli positions in Sinai. Within two hours all of Sinai would be retaken. Meanwhile, from the bases at Faid, Abu-Suwayr, and Kasfareet, Fahmi would dispatch his airborne battalions and paratroop brigades. Their objectives would be strategic military installations within Israel itself, particularly those of the Israeli Air Force. The relatively short distances to these objectives (only 200 miles to Tel Aviv) was an important tactical advantage. With no resistance, Brigadier-General Fahmi's troops would, within three hours or at most four have control of Beersheba, Gaza, Al-Khalil, Elat, and, of course, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.

During this time the word of liberation would have spread quickly to all Palestinians within and around Israel's borders. They would overrun and reclaim their homeland. Eight hundred thousand would pour across the Jordan from Judea and Samaria. From Gaza would come four hundred thousand. From Lebanon and Syria three hundred thousand more. Altogether about a million and a half Palestinians. Armed with surrendered Israeli weapons, they would serve rightfully as the army of occupation, easily capable of dominating two and a half million Jews. Among the Palestinians would be the various guerrilla factions, especially in the north. Naturally, they would be merciless.

A six-day war? This one would be over in six hours. Over before Sadat could prepare a statement taking credit. Over long before any major power such as the United States could intervene. (The United States Sixth Fleet would probably be vacationing in Cannes, the superstructures of its warships all strung with festive lights.)

World reaction?

The United States would no doubt rush its Sixth Fleet and missile-bearing submarines to the eastern Mediterranean. War would seem imminent. The President of the United States would issue a strong, threatening protest and follow that up with a public statement condemning inhuman Arab aggression. The thirty million Jews in America would press for swift action. Russia would also deplore the attack, but warn the United States against making any overt move. Russia would not tolerate the possibility of the United States taking over the Middle East and gaining control of three-quarters of the world's supply of oil. It would be a stand-off. Neither superpower would risk a direct confrontation. They would flex military muscles, keep an eye on one another, hedge, buy time. A special emergency session of the United Nations Security Council would be called. Each member would express appropriate indignation. Talk.

Meanwhile, the Arab kingdom would be reunited, Arab pride would be restored. There would be blood on the Wailing Wall.

Pinchon flipped the left and right flaps of the portfolio, closing it.

Bayumi's stubby fingers held up a crystal cordial glass filled with Chartreuse. “You, sir, are a genius,” said Bayumi.

Pinchon saw no reason to deny that.

13

T
HE STERLING-SILVER
dart flashed through the air.

It struck the forehead of the girl, solidly, all of its inch-and-a-half point going in.

For a moment it seemed incredible to Hazard that the girl did not flinch or cry out or bleed.

“
Merde,
” said Pinchon. He had two more tries. With the second, he hit the girl on the nose. “
Voilà!
” he exclaimed.

The girl suddenly receded, became a full figure in a white silk dress that she slowly peeled off, exposing her breasts and on down. When she was entirely nude she pivoted to present an all-around view, assumed a final flaunting pose, and abruptly disappeared.

Hazard thought at least she deserved some applause.

“She wasn't very good,” said Pinchon. “The next is much better.”

Catherine retrieved the darts. It was her turn and there for her aim was the face of another girl. Catherine appraised the girl a bit competitively and then made a smooth skillful throw. The dart went into the girl's cheek, just slightly off mark.

They were in Pinchon's game room. At the moment they were playing what he called
Voyeur,
an advanced version of darts, involving a film projector connected to an electronic target board. The object of the game was to hit the nose of a girl who was projected. This in turn automatically started the film, presenting the visual reward. Pavlov, Freud, and Hefner all in one.