It was understandable that some of these Chinese military and intelligence personnel were upset by this operation. This team hadn’t participated in anything this gruesome before now.
Innocent women and perhaps even children would die. But it was necessary, Lena reminded herself. Was she rationalizing? Yes. But the ends justified the means, however horrible they were.
Lena watched one particular woman, manning her station. She looked to be about thirty years old. The woman covered her mouth as she watched the Iranian men on the screen, gunning down civilians stuck in the traffic jam.
Lena cocked her head. She wondered if this woman had a child at home. Unlikely, as the group assigned to this island was well-screened. But this woman was quite upset. That much was clear. That was fine, Lena told herself. Let them be upset. As long as their being upset didn’t transition into anything more dangerous, like dissent.
The Beltway attacks hadn’t been planned by the Americans in the Red Cell. Jinshan’s covert team from the Ministry of State Security had come up with this one.
The operation still fit the Red Cell’s overall strategy — frame Iran as the most dangerous enemy of the American people. An enemy that needed to be dealt with immediately. Get the US committed to war with Iran. And while the Americans are focused on Iran, China will make her move.
Jinshan’s group of Chinese spies operating in the US had been there for years. Some of his agents had even been there for decades. Lena herself had begun her work for Jinshan that way. A deep seed into the heart of America.
One the objectives Jinshan had laid out for his team was to uncover agents from other nations who were also conducting espionage inside the US. All the major players had operatives in the D.C. area. The Russians, the Israelis, the British.
Jinshan’s team had stumbled onto the Iranian sleeper cell a few years ago. At the time, Lena had been working as a mole in the CIA, stationed in the D.C. area. Jinshan had notified Lena of the Iranians and asked her to gather more information on the group. Information of that sort could be very valuable, should they ever desire to conduct a false flag operation in the future.
When the CIA had transferred Lena to Dubai, she’d handed off the work to another of Jinshan’s men. Jinshan’s team had continued to find out everything they could about how the Iranians conducted their communication. What were their methods of communication? Their chain of command structure? Who made contact with whom? How often? What types of missions were they intended to conduct? What were their standard operating procedures?
And, important to Lena’s current operation, what activities would the Iranian sleeper cell perform on short notice, without having any in-person communication?
Lena had been surprised to hear how amateurish the Iranians were at some things, but how disciplined they were at others. They were great, for instance, at keeping low profiles. Out of the thirteen of them, including the group’s leader, only one of them had ever shown up on a US government watch list. Lena had used the CIA’s database to check.
But when Jinshan’s cyberwarfare hackers had infiltrated the Iranian intelligence organization’s computers in Tehran, they had been astounded to find out how many details were kept on file about the group. Everything was there. Their identities, their codenames (which were comically unoriginal), and their method of communication.
Jinshan had been very pleased to find out that they would not use steps to double-verify orders if they were to be executed within one week’s time. Double-verification of an action order was standard practice with Chinese sleeper agents. This prevented another foreign entity from exploiting the group.
Once Lena and her team had gotten their hands on the Iranian files, they’d begun to draw up plans for what they wanted the Iranian sleeper cell to do, and how they would anonymously communicate it.
The consensus was that an attack on a soft target — highly visible, easily achievable for this group of amateurs — would work best. But it would have to be done in a way that would tie up all loose ends.
“Sir, we’re getting video feed from the phones on their vests.”
“Please show it on screen,” said the duty officer.
One of the large screens in the front of the room changed from overhead satellite footage to a cross-section of twelve video feeds.
“Why are we seeing only twelve?”
“The leader’s feed isn’t on for some reason.”
Lena frowned. That wasn’t part of the plan. “Is the cleaner crew ready if we need them?” She had a two-member group ready to take out any of the Iranians that survived the attack. But she didn’t want to expose them unless she absolutely had to. It defeated the whole purpose of using the Iranians in the first place. The cleaner crews had connections to the Chinese.
“The cleaners are standing by, if needed,” the duty officer said, looking at Lena.
The video feed from the phones was surprisingly clear, but not well focused. The gunmen were walking and jogging, shooting passengers as they sat in their cars or ran in the streets. Lena heard some more gasps from inside the room.
“It looks like one of them has been hit,” the duty officer said, pointing to a video screen.
Lena saw the lone video feed that was no longer moving. The image was now half-covered by pavement. She looked up at the overhead satellite feeds until she found the one where the man lay.
A dark patch spread out on the ground next to his now-misshapen head. She searched and found the man who had shot him. A white man with dark hair and civilian clothes held a handgun and was taking cover behind a school bus.
Lena looked at the duty officer and said, “You know what to do.” The man nodded and walked over to one of his men. The one who was able to send signals to the phones connected to the heavy vests the men wore.
Javad watched his men from the overpass. Every instruction had been followed to the letter, except for his own participation. His men didn’t know any better.
Instead of four attackers at this location, there would be three. Javad was supposed to leave his own vehicle and get in one of the vans. He was supposed to take his rifle and do exactly what his men were doing. Firing at innocent civilians. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Instead, he had driven his own van and parked on the overpass next to one of the target locations. Javad had decided that he would watch the scene for a few moments, and then get a head start on his escape.
He’d arrived seconds before his men had stopped their van on the Beltway. Stopping their vehicle may have been enough to prevent traffic from moving, but the next step would ensure their success. Javad watched as they opened the five-gallon gas cans and poured them onto the highway, lighting it on fire to ensure that traffic stopped.
So many people, sitting in their cars. Looking ahead at the rising smoke. Long tongues of flame whipping up. It was such an eye-catching sight that most of them didn’t even see the three of Javad’s men fan out amongst them, wearing their protective vests and raising their weapons.
The cracks of gunfire changed everything. Screams erupted from the trapped bystanders. A few of them tried to slam on the gas and force their cars out of the traffic, but those attempts only served to make them the first targets of Javad’s men.
The Iranian sleeper cell had been activated. Mobilized into a weapon of — he hated to use the word, but he knew it to be accurate—terror.
Spiderwebs of cracked glass appeared on windows and windshields. Dark red blood seeping out of the doors. Cars became coffins. The highway pavement and grass strip next to it became a slaughtering ground.
Javad had wondered if any of his men would object to the orders. Or perhaps they would become less interested when they found out the nature of their target? But it hadn’t mattered. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of how efficient they were being, or horrified.