Do not let the world fool you. Our Lord has already won the war. Rest upon our Lord Jesus Christ. Let him be your strength in this worrisome time. Love you all. Merry Christmas! 

Join a Church that is faithful to the WORD. If in doubt, ask around and pray for God’s guidance to the right place of worship. We, mankind, are fallen and sin. Not all Churches teach the true word, but God will guide you. Our God is a loving God.

CHAPTER 6 OPERATION SAVIOR

 

CHAPTER 6

OPERATION SAVIOR

 

     Mabior leaned against his cell wall's far corner, and the primitive bed was moved to give access to that particular area. He had searched for a location that could be hidden from view when not being used. In preparation for his plan, he had covered the sliding opening for the guards to check on the prisoners with the single blanket provided for the metal bed minus any form of mattress. He had mused in the beginning that being without a mattress meant no body-devouring pests to make life even more miserable.

     Over the past week of imprisonment, Mabior had managed to drill a tiny communication hole into Dok's cell next to his. This was accomplished with a pointed metal 4" probe Mr. B had required them to hide in the hidden compartment of their sandals. In turn, Dok had opened a similar portal into Thon's cell. The three men passed information through the tiny holes almost soundlessly. A best-time was worked out. A best-time was whenever the guards were rattling the metal meal dishes covered in a mysterious and disgusting material referred to as food or shouting obscenities at one another during frequent arguments.

     All three men were beaten severely, but, being very fit and trained, looked worse than they were in reality. The three played the game of being weak and scared as they had been trained. Always on the lookout for opportunities to feed false information to their interrogators. In their communications through the holes, info was passed to keep their stories similar.

     Their quizmaster looked down on them as illiterate Sudanese. Mabior and the others read the notes taken by the unsuspecting quizmaster and passed them on to one another. Interrogations were more controlled by Mabior, Thon, and Dok than by the Iranians.

     The three Team members prayed for strength and perseverance. Paul was their example. Dok told them that Paul had accomplished almost as much in prison as outside. They treated their guards with great courtesy. Regular inquiries were made about the welfare of their families. Meals were noticeably improving. Guards quit kicking and hitting the prisoners with their rifle butts. When the cell doors were opened, if the three were in the middle of prayers, the guards respectfully waited for them to finish.

     Eventually, one of the guards asked, "Why do you ask your God to bless us and our families when you are beaten and imprisoned?"

     Thon replied, "Because our God is a loving God. He loves you and your family and asks his followers to love you just as he does. He tells us to love even our enemies. Doesn't your God, Allah, love you?" That answer left the guard perplexed.

     On the fifteenth day of imprisonment during interrogation, Mabior asked during a pause of the frustrated quizmaster, "Do you think I am a Mossad agent come to steal information and destroy your facilities?"

     The man's eyes opened wide as he replied, "You - Mossad? Hah!" He let out a loud and belly-shaking laugh along with the two guards assisting in the room.

     Mabior joined in on the laughter. If only Mr. Quizmaster and his guards knew the reality of the situation, they might not be laughing so hard. Mabior wasn't laughing at himself. He was laughing at what the Iranians were unaware of right under their noses.

     The two guards escorted Mabior back to the two guards working the cells of the three Team members. One of the escorting guards commented to the new replacement guards, "You new guards need to be tougher on these animals than the old guards."

     The new guards just grunted in reply as they locked the prisoner in his cell.

     Having delivered their human parcel, the guards disappeared around the corner, clomping down the narrow stone steps chattering about nothing. Certain that they were alone, the two new cell guards turned to one another and smiled.

     The guards slid open all three small observation doors. The Team members inside all let out a chuckle. Mabior commented quietly, "Artie and Giff, you two are a sight for sore eyes."

     Artie answered with, "As are the three of you. God has taken good care of ya, and he'll be taking even better care shortly. Listen carefully..." He and Giff explained the plan in methodical detail.

     Mabior, Thon, and Dok had been imprisoned due to their being caught praying - to a Christian God. It was part of the plan to work operatives into position to take over the local police force guarding the Talleghan 2 nuke sight attacked by the Israeli Air Force on October 27.

     Mossad, through Unit 8200, had devised this plan to work at the site with near immunity from discovery by the IRGC (Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps) or Artesh (Includes the army, air force, and navy). The IRGC's duty is to protect the regime and is in charge of national security, internal security, and law enforcement.

     Internet, satellite, radio, and phone line communication would be controlled (would be the best explanation due to secrecy) during the plan implementation.

     The quizmaster received a phone call informing him of a visit from an IRGC rep with visiting officials from their Russian ally to inspect the facility. The inspection was to determine if the facility would be secure enough to house a group of war prisoners from Syria. Also, a convoy of IRGC trucks would be bringing in a group of reinforcements to reconstruct the Talleghan 2 nuke facility.

     Mr. Quizmaster was in a nervous tizzy with this sudden intrusion of his fiefdom. It was all designed to cause confusion and havoc. Later, Mossad showed me a dossier on the quizmaster. He was a punctilious little bureaucrat who became flustered at the least blip in his routine. Brother, he was about to experience a large blip in that routine that would bring nerve-wracking havoc with it, and just what Dr. Mossad ordered.

     A policeman rushed into the quizmaster's office shouting, "They're here! There are five trucks filled with men and IRGC soldiers. What do we do?"

     Right behind that man's announcement came another, "Sir, there are many men, Russians, and IRGC, I think, coming in the front entry! What shall I do, tell them? Where do I send them?

     Behind all that, came, "Sir! All the landline phones are down, and I'm not able to get anything on my cell phone. Is your phone down, too?"

     As if that wasn't enough, "Sir, something happened to the radios in the police cars. All those IRGC officials with the trucks and workers are waiting to talk to you about specifics the home office supposedly gave to you. Did you talk to them about this? Sir, I need to tell them something."

     Mr. Quizmaster was red-faced and breathing hard. He was not in charge of the situation, but he was the man in charge. Without his okay, the Russians and officials crammed into his tiny office with all the other people yelling and panicking. It was a glorious sight.

     You could see the poor man's future fading before his eyes. At wit's end, he quietly commanded all the policemen to exit his office. After that, he turned his attention to the IRGC officials with the visiting Russians. Clearing his throat and with a defeated tone he asked, "How may I be of assistance to you gentlemen?"

     With a condescending expression and tone, the lead IRGC man inquired, "Is this how you run your district, sir? The Khamenei will hear of this."

     Defeated, the man just shrugged and sheepishly smiled.

     The IRGC official struggled to turn in the crowded room to introduce the Russians. "I have the pleasure of introducing Colonel Petrov who is escorting Major General Sokolov and Colonel General Popov."

     Mr. Quizmaster graciously shook the hands of each officer. Immediately after, he shouted for someone in the outer office to bring chairs for the officials and officers, but they deferred to making the tour of the prison due to time restraints. The quizmaster was sweating profusely as he motioned for the group to follow him.

     Stiffly the entourage trudged behind the boss bureaucrat down the narrow halls, around sharp corners, and up steep steps toward the cellblocks where prisoners were held in dilapidated and filthy quarters unfit for swine, much less humans. Upon reaching the cells containing Mabior, Thon, and Dok, the boss ordered the cell door viewing holes slid open for inspection. To his surprise, the doors all swung open from the force of those inside.

     Bewildered, the quizmaster turned to the guards with his mouth open but no words coming out. The guards had their AKs pointed directly at him. As he turned to attempt an escape, he saw the men behind him, the Russian officers, with their side arms drawn and pointed at him. The end-all was the IRGC official informing him, "Sir, you need to hand me your phone and sidearm, and enter the cell, promptly."

     The quizmaster stood there obviously thinking about a way out, but all his horrid and small mind came up with was, "Or?"

     The IRGC official smiled as he answered, "Or - we shall shoot you."

     Mabior shoved the man in the cell not quite as hard as he wanted, then began a contagious laugh that the entire group caught. The stress was being laughed away as the cell door was locked. Afterward, the group walked single file down the narrow hallway laughing till their sides hurt and tears streamed down their cheeks. Every time Thon repeated, "Or," and Samuel responded with, "We shall shoot you," the laughter intensified.

     As we came to the occupied cells, I checked the paperwork listing the prisoners and crimes committed. We unlocked all the cells as we were assured of their being with us due to their crimes being political in nature, and by their families having been vetted previously.

     With the Christians gathered up by the other three units of The Team and the political dissidents released from jail, we had a sizable little army on hand quite capable of completing this mission. The few residents/workers at the nuke facility had been detained with only minor effort. We had a small but achievable interval to complete our evidence gathering to get it shipped safely away.

     That was until an Artesh army unit walked into the mix.

    

 

CHAPTER 5 RETURNING THE FAVOR - PERSIA

 

 

 

     Mabior, Alek, Dok, and I sat on the new patio furniture that I was ever so slowly adjusting to. It was tough to say goodbye to that old wooden and termite-eaten bench. We sat watching as Samuel stood on the compound wall giving one of his now-familiar and oh-so-popular wall sermons, as the locals referred to them. He stood with the very pregnant Leah at his feet, her legs dangling over the side. Everyone, locals and The Team alike stood, sat, or lay around mesmerized on this starry, clear, and full-moonlit night. The holy spirit was in total control.
     Samuel paused his sermon as he lifted his right arm slowly toward the stars while pointing with his finger. Lazily he pivoted in a circle keeping his arm outstretched for emphasis. As he began his second rotation, he spoke, "All the stars including the unseen ones - countless - at distances we as humans can describe in mindless equations to most, but cannot comprehend. Light travels at speeds only mathematical foreign languages can express. Understood by few, but known by all but the feeblest of intellects as God's creation."
     Lowering his head in introspection, Samuel continued, "Put out there for what purpose? To me, our Lord surrounded us with these satellites to help satisfy our inquisitive and intelligent minds and to encourage our development. For he, God, created us to question, to enquire, and to create - just as he loves to do."
     "Yet, most of us go about our daily lives complaining about a humdrum existence while surrounded by all this - his glory. Just think my brothers and sisters in Christ, the creator of all this," he once more lifted his arms toward the heavens, "wants a personal relationship with us -  with us. Who are we? When you are loved by God, the creator of everything, you are somebody."
     As we all sat hypnotized, Mabior, startled, jumped to his feet to confront intruders behind us.
     The other three of us jumped in unison to see the familiar Men Whose Names We Cannot Know from Unit 8200, the most secret of secret units of Israeli Intelligence. Remember the pagers and walkie-talkies? Remember our loss of Mark and Chan on the Somalia mission?
     Mabior's face transformed into a smile upon recognizing friends. He extended his hand in greeting as did we all.
     I motioned Dok to help me round up some additional chairs, but the men waved us off. In their suits, they sat down on the ground behind us, saying, "We would like to finish hearing Samuel's wall sermon.
     And we did. After that, everyone flowed into the meeting room, and settled down for a late-night meeting.
     The Men Whose Names We Cannot Know are referred to by The Team as A, B, and C. Around us, anyway, the men dressed alike. Though being rather similar in appearance, the men did have very distinguishable features, but I will not disclose those.
     Mr. C walked to the middle of our circular meeting table that had a large and empty space in the middle used to set up erasable marker boards for instruction with room for several men to attend presentations.
     With a cordial smile, Mr. C thanked the men for their attendance at such a late hour. He explained how stealthy travel required such peculiar etiquette. Turning slowly as he addressed The Team, he seemed to be judging the character, the mettle, of the men as he settled on each of their vigilant pairs of eyes.
     As he finished his sweep of the attendees, he began, "Men, you are aware that for the most part, our meetings have a background of danger. You are also aware of the current battle against Iran and its proxies that my country, Israel, is involved in. As you were made honorary citizens of Israel on your visit to our homeland, my government is asking if you would be willing to take on an assignment to enter Iran and evacuate a group of Christians who have been working undercover for us, and whose lives are in great danger at this very moment."
     The room erupted like a volcano with cheers. Mabior, with arms raised to heaven, shouted, "Finally! For you, Mark and Chan! Furthermore, Mr. C, Israel is an integral part of this organization. You need not ask. You need only to command us."
     Alek smashed a fist against the table, saying, "Mark, Chan, and, not least, Alexei."
     I was sitting back letting Mabior be in charge for as long as necessary. At that moment, in walks, General Iverson escorted by Leah and an unknown man.
     The General made his way directly to me and Mabior. Pulling the two of us away from the cheering mob, he introduced us to the unknown man.
     "General Jefferson and Mabior, I would like to introduce you to your new contact, go-to guy, representing the newly elected President of the United States, Donald J. Trump, Mr. Ariel Abramovitz. He has the full confidence of the new Ambassador to Israel, Mr. Huckabee. Also, Ambassador Huckabee gives The Team his full confidence, and heavy on the 'full.'"
     We shook hands while doing the usual small talk. The General cut the intro short with, "Gentlemen, from here on, the new President wants the world to know there is a new sheriff in town, and it isn't going to be business as usual with terror orgs like Iran and its proxies. The U.S. wants the Leadership in Tehran to understand their days are numbered if attacking Israel is on the table. The Mossad boys are here to lay out our part of a plan to let Iran know who is in charge, and it ain't Tehran, Russia, North Korea, or China."
     All of us had grins that were too big for our faces. The time had come for our small group to join in the main battle.
     Mr. Abramovitz informed Mabior and me that the President has every faith in The Team and when their mission is finished, he wants to meet them, in Washington.
     Mabior and I stared at one another. I shook my head and said, "Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine The Team becoming -" I shrugged my shoulders, "This - this powerful instrument for our Lord."
     Grabbing me with both hands, Mabior, speaking in low tones, "I and all The Team did, sir."
     A, B, & C called the meeting back to order.
     Mr. A spoke with an authority that revealed something about why he was who he was. While Mr. B and Mr. C rolled another board into the middle containing a map of Iran, Mr. A grabbed a marker, "Gentlemen, I give you Operation Savior." He wrote those words on the board while he began explaining, "You'll be divided into 4 teams. Entry will be by Kurdish friendlies and, shall I say, 'well-paid' border guards, at four different points."
     A, picking up a pointer, slammed it against the map of Iran on the other board. "Iran!" He paused for effect. "Iran is divided into two basic parts. Part I contains the leadership, the government and the military. Part II contains the citizens. You must imprint this on your brains: we are not at war with the citizens of Iran. We are at war with the leadership and the military of Iran."
     At this point, C took the pointer. "On October 26, 2024, the Air Force of Israel struck Iran with over 100 aircraft; F35s, drones, refueling aircraft, and spy planes. We are particularly proud of our newest spy plane used on operational and spy missions, Oron, the first of its kind. It is a wide-area persistent surveillance and multisensor aircraft."
     Amani, the brain, stood to ask, "Sir, may I ask what some of the specific features are on the Oron?"
     C, familiar with Amani, rattled off an impressive and comprehensive list of systems and specs, "Amani, the plane's surveillance platform is constructed on a Gulfstream 550 in Savannah, Georgia. It has a max range of 9816 km or a little over 6,000 miles with a speed of Mach 0.925 or a little over 700 mph, and a max cruise altitude of 15,545 m or about 51,000 feet. The high-thrust G550 engines are 33% more fuel efficient than previous generation engines. I don't recall the exact take-off thrust, but I think it is around 67.36 kN or kilonewton for others. AI capabilities provide actionable insights in real-time. Its advancement over Iran and all other Middle East countries is estimated at around 50 years. It can give assessments and detailed analyses of enemy forces and terrorist organizations deployed at both short and long ranges. Does that help you, Amani?"
     "Yes, sir. A very impressive intelligence asset, Mr. C." Amani had been scribbling notes the entire time. He is an eccentric young man, but a huge gift from God to The Team. Everyone loves and respects him, and we are very tolerant of his peculiarities.
     Mr. C continued while pointing at each site, "You see here the Iranian nuke sites. I'll start north to south. Fordow is an enrichment site deep in a mountain. Number two is khondab is currently an unfinished reactor. We see a danger of proliferation here - weapons. Number 3 Natanz is a huge complex that is underground and contains two enrichment plants. Number 4 Isfahan does a range of activities from building centrifuge parts to preparing uranium for enrichment. Number 5 Buchehr is Iran's only operating nuclear power plant. It uses Russian fuel rods that, when spent, are sent back to Russia."
     After a deep breath and taking a sip from his water bottle, C smacked the pointer hard on the Number 3 site, Natanz. "You see the Natanz site. It is sitting right next to the Shi'ite Muslim holy city of Qom, south of Tehran. We first learned of this facility from an exiled Iranian opposition group in 2002. Today, we, Israelis, know as much as Khamenei about this sight - probably more."
     Mr. B, also referred to as Mr. Spooky, due to his facial qualities, took the stick, "Team, HEU is the abbreviation for highly enriched uranium, known also as weapon-grade uranium, uranium-235. To produce U-235 or Pu-239 or plutonium, you need a research reactor, a breeder reactor. This is available at Natanz. I assume you have guessed one of the units will be going there. However, contrary to what the world thought, this is not the main focus of Israeli intelligence efforts. The primary focus has been and will be on nuclear weapons research sites. Israeli AF hit just such a site at Parchin, Talleghan 2, in the desert that was previously unknown to the rest of the world. We knew about its reactivation from the very dangerous observations and intel gathering over a long period by a Christian opposition group that managed to infiltrate the site. Now, they need to be removed and debriefed before reinsertion."
     Mr. B paused as he turned slowly to make eye contact with the entire Team. He restarted with an eruption, "However! You know a unit such as yours would not be used just to pull out our operatives! You, my brothers, will be infiltrating and bringing out proof of the activities there to show the world the real truth!"
     An eruption of cheers.
     Mr. B let out a yell as he threw his right fist into the air. That added fuel to the fire.
     The eruption went on for a minute or so before Samuel stood to speak. Anytime Samuel stood, people listened. He had a look of reflection across his face which was in opposition to the celebration around him and Leah.
     He cleared his throat before speaking slowly with a conscious and willful determination in his voice, "My brothers, it is with great sadness that I inform you of my not being allowed to accompany you to Iran. When I say, not being allowed, I had a cryptic dream last night. With the aid of prayer and with consultations with Leah and Mr. A, B, and C, I have concluded that our Lord thinks it best that I do not accompany The Team to Iran on this mission." Clearly, he was upset, just as the pregnant Leah was ecstatic for his life.
     The Team and the others stood, making their way to Samuel to comfort him. Everyone had a single question, "Why?"
     Strangely to my way of thinking, Mr. A, B, and C were markedly unaffected by his announcement. Though I could assign it to their pre-knowledge of the announcement, years of experience told me something was out of place. I indexed it in my mental files for later use. There was always an aura of mystery around the Men Whose Names We Cannot Know. But the mystery around Little Brother, Samuel was greater yet.
     The meeting eventually resumed with the 8200 Unit men giving the four groups the names of members and their various assignments. The Team would go in as imported Sudanese, not South Sudanese, Muslims to be used in underpaid government work gangs. Through all the training, I just kept thinking, "This is a lot of risk for a couple of supposed proofs of nuke weapon research."
     Mabior approached me, directing me gently away from the rest of the group. "Chief, something is missing here. There is something they aren't telling us."
     I smiled, "Same here. Let's play along. These guys don't play games for no reason. We'll trust them."
     Mabior stroked his chin then looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot. "Chief, only moments ago, I remembered where I've seen these 8200 boys outside our professional dealings. On our trip to Israel, when we went to the Temple Mount, I observed three men entering the Al-Aqsa Mosque, from a distance, mind you. Those three men were Mr. A, B, and C. I'm almost certain. One of two things hit me about that sighting: they were on a mission or they are traitors."
     Those observations impressed me. "Mabior, great spot." I took my phone out of my pocket while bringing up my saved pictures. "Look." I showed him the image I had showing, "It's the boys entering the mosque. I had the same feeling that day. Something told me those three men together were the Jews we had dealt with on previous missions, not Arabs, or Muslims. I've always told you men to be curious, spot incompatibilities."
     Mabior was excited, "It's them!"
     I had to calm him down lest we draw unwanted attention. Then I showed him another picture taken that same day on the Temple Mount. "This picture is taken about two hours later. It shows four IDF Soldiers escorting a Muslim whom I believe to be a familiar-to-me Imam with hands restrained behind him. Nearby and clearly accompanying the IDF are the three men walking with...?" I was prodding Mabior for the answer.
     His eyes grew to the size of baseballs, Mabior said, "The Mossad Chief whom we had met the day before! Whew, they're solid. I'm so relieved that they're not dirty."
     Not sure if the 8200 boys realized they had been officially vetted or not, but they had.
     Two sleepless weeks of training for The Team went by in a haze of the usual info dump. From day one of The Team's formation, Mark and I had made training in high-volume memory acquisition mandatory. It is a method developed by Hugh Sanders, an acting coach, for the performing arts profession. Though not a Christian at the time, he flew over to teach the first class and develop future classes to be taught by Team members. He is now a devout Christian due to his involvement with The Team. Little did Mr. Sanders know that making him a Christian was our primary objective the moment he walked in the door here.
     The different mini-Teams set out for Iran according to plan. Surprisingly, entering Iran wasn't all that difficult thanks to Mossad bribing border guards and the Israeli-Kurdish friendship developed over the years with the Kurdish-Iranians and Kurds in general. I had close dealings with the Kurds in the second invasion of Iraq in March 2003. They saved and taught this naive first lieutenant many times and many lessons. I love the Kurdish people.
     Word came from the 8200 Unit as a despondent Samuel and I sat in my office doing boring ammo requisitions.
     As I answered my phone, a familiar voice spoke, "Hey, Mr. B, how are you doing?" Samuel lit up light a Christmas Tree, walking around his desk to lean into my space. "Yes, check. Gotcha. I'll relay the message. Thanks for letting us know. Bye."
     I laid the phone down and went back to the requisitions. Samuel wasted no time, "You aren't gonna tell me what Mr. B said?"
     Laughing, "Just kidding. They're in Iran with no problems, and headed for positions."
     That was it for two weeks of hell while impatiently waiting for any word. Leah was the only calm one, immersed in childcare learning, daily calls from her Mom repeating the old news that she was packed and waiting for the signal, add to that breathing practice with Samuel. I came in on them in his office while doing their practice. I saw a Samuel I had never seen before. I saw a Samuel that had been through many battles where death was always stalking us scared silly by the thought of helping his wife give birth. When I inappropriately laughed at the sight before me, Leah shouted, "You're next, Mr. Jefferson!"
     As I closed the door to walk away, it was my turn to be filled with the fear of a man assisting with childbirth. "Lord, I know Abraham and Sarah were too old, but you gave them a miracle birth. Please, Lord, don't give me that same miracle. I don't have a clue what to do with a baby."
     At that moment, I got a call from Mr. B that changed the atmosphere at headquarters. Mabior, Thon, and Dok are in an Iranian jail near Talleghan 2, Parchin. They are being tortured.