Cold Objective by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“You’re going to be hit.”

General Abed Muammar wasn’t sure he’d heard his ISI connection in Karachi correctly, the trundling of a tracked carrier passing his windowed office, carrying the new SS-40 SCUDs for the loading bays, muting the voice on the other end of the phone. The general asked Agent Hibal to repeat himself when the noise faded. This time he heard him right, terribly loud and crystal clear, and the phone became a great weight in his pudgy hand. He pulled back, staring at the phone as if it were a viper poised to bite.

“How do you know this? When? Who? Americans?”

“The interrogations have proved successful for Colonel Mujhan. It would appear as if our vaunted freedom fighters, so feared in the American media, plastered all over their cable news shows in black kaffiyehs covering their entire faces like hoods as they perform commando exercises in the camps of Afghanistan, couldn’t stomach a little bit of pain. They talked. Mujhan knows about the plant. They named names.”

“And myself?”

“You were one of the first conspirators mentioned.”

Muammer felt his near three-hundred-pound bulk heaving as he waddled around his office, his heart thundering, the blubber of his triple-deckered chin quivering, sweat breaking out beneath the bill of his cap. This was incredible, he thought. No, it was a nightmare beyond comprehension.

The world suddenly felt strangely out of kilter, the room spinning as fear turned to panic and churned bile in his stomach. Beyond his window, he stared at the space-suited workforce in the quarantined bays beyond the decon chambers, his soldiers strolling about, barking orders, his black-turbaned honored guests helping to load the canvas-covered trucks with the containers of anthrax shells, the sarin nerve gas, rolling up the delivery systems for missiles on their tracks into other beds.

“I do not know precisely when they will attack, but Colonel Mujhan has already contacted the president and informed him of the situation. CIA black ops, Delta Force, I do not know. But the raid was approved by the president. It could happen anytime. I suggest you conclude whatever business with Mullah al-Wahbin and his men as soon as possible. We have already received millions in payoffs.”

“But the intermediate missiles they want are not all—”

“I understand. It takes time to reprocess plutonium and uranium waste into weapons grade. However, they must take what they have, and I understand at least one convoy has already left for the border, so they will have to be patient until we can rebuild another facility.”

“Rebuild!” Muammar nearly screamed, his voice rife with horror. “What are you saying? They are coming here to blast us off the face of the desert?”

“That would be a good assumption. I would prepare yourself accordingly.”

When Hibal hung up, Muammar slammed down the receiver. Prepare himself accordingly? he bitterly thought. And do what? Flee the country? Throw himself at the mercy of the American commandos? Denying any personal involvement was impossible. He had openly invited the Taliban and al-Qaeda into Pakistan, arranging for them set up cells in Karachi, or arrive at the factory to pick up merchandise already paid for.

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