The Aleppo Code (The Jerusalem Prophecies) by Terry Brennan Read Free Book Online

attempted assassination, the gun battle outside Senator Green’s home in Virginia, the panic as a human wall of Secret Service agents hustled him into a safe room in the senator’s basement, now the final go-order for this destructive and dangerous raid on Iran—all took an exacting toll on his weakening heart. But there was no weakening in his resolve. The Iranian government was out of control, megalomaniac fanatics who had finally moved from empty denials of their nuclear intentions to a clear and present danger to Israel, the United States, even to world peace. Sanctions failed. Direct action was needed. Iran must be stopped. The assassination attempts on Whitestone and Baruk three days earlier interrupted their original timetable, but they still had in motion the means to devastate Iran’s economy, its capacity to threaten anyone.
    “Some may be more than a trifle suspect when we strike back this quickly,” said Whitestone. Bill Cartwright, promoted to national security advisor when Whitestone purged his cabinet members following the near disaster surrounding the Tent of Meeting, was the only eyes and ears who would ever know of this conversation. They were locked into a secure communications room—with no recorders—deep in the bunkers under the White House.
    “Let them speculate,” Baruk responded. The normally unflappable and dapper prime minister looked as if he hadn’t slept. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes heavy. “It took a few days, but there is now enough evidence in place to connect those hooded assassins to the Iranian mullahs.”
    “Are the teams still in place?”
    Baruk pushed back his shoulders as if to wish life into his bones. “Three teams at Abadan, three teams at Bandar-e Abbas—the refineries will be ash in minutes. All the necessary items are in place at Fordow and the national treasury in Tehran. We have even managed access to certain portions of the Natanz facility. Don’t worry, Jonathan, in twenty-four hours Iran will cease to be a threat to anyone. And their new president may have trouble keeping his position.”
    Cartwright leaned in around the president, an old friend, and pressed toward the camera. “Mr. Prime Minister, what about the teams on the ground? What are their chances?”
    “The chance of success is high. The chance for survival? The teams at the refineries we hope to pick up by submarine in the gulf. The devices are nearly all in place in Fordow and Natanz. They are set to go off at the same time. Our assets will be far away when the explosions occur. The gold depository … well, the gold depository is another story.
    “We’ve been planning for this day for quite some time,” said Baruk, “long before you or the international community joined the call for Iran to cease its nuclear operations. We’ve sabotaged their centrifuges, taken out their scientists, even managed to deliver inferior grade concrete during their building boom at Natanz and Fordow. Those things slowed down the Iranians. But we knew this day was coming, and we’ve been patient and meticulous in the planning.”
    Baruk ran a hand through his thick, curling hair. “But the team at the Central Bank … we just don’t know. It’s the most difficult assignment—near impossible to gain access, more difficult to get out. You don’t want to make it easy to leave a gold depository, do you? We tried hiding the devices in Iranian gold bars, but we couldn’t get the weight right with the bars bored out, and the gold is so dense it would muffle a good bit of the explosive, limit the contamination. There’s no place else to hide the devices in the depository.
    “This has to be an inside job. The men are all native Iranians … long-time employees at the Central Bank. The devices are timed for just after shift-change, when the men are making their pickup inside the vault. There will be no time to escape. They knew the risk, the probable outcome. They volunteered anyway. Anyone inside that vault