Blaze Page 5

  The Nazarene rebuked this fascination in Arash and scolded him for believing in and looking towards the coming of a false Messiah. Boldy, the Nazarene quoted scripture that referred to false Messiahs in the days of last things. He made it abundantly clear that the worship of Jesus, the great I Am, was the only pathway to paradise and peace. He gave Arash glimpses of the future war that would take place in conjunction with the claimed return of the Mahdi.

  Arash became filled with poignant and vivid mind pictures of these future times and the chaos and confusion that would mark them. Arash fell prostrate and worshiped the Nazarene with a passion and fervor that far surpassed any of the feelings he had ever expressed for the figure of the Mahdi.

  Arash had changed in an instant. He was now an outlaw Christian in the land of the devotees of the Mahdi.

  It took Arash several weeks to come to grips with the experience and to even begin to feel comfortable in his new skin, and with his newly transformed soul.

  He felt like a fraud and an imposter everywhere he went, particularly when with his wife. He continued to lay his prayer rug next to hers and pray with her daily at all the requisite intervals, only he was praying to who she would only recognize as the Mahdi’s chief deputy, Jesus Christ. She had no clue what had transpired within him.

  Arash had only confided in one person regarding his conversion. It was a person who he had known was critical of the Islamic doctrine surrounding the Twelfth Imam, and of radical Islam in general. It was his dear childhood friend Reza Kahlili, who at the time, served in the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, and unbeknownst to Arash at the time, was also a full-fledged spy for the CIA.

  Arash told Reza of his conversion with great trepidation. Even though Arash trusted Reza intrinsically, he knew that he was revealing one of the most damning stories a man could tell in the Islamic Republic of Iran. What came out of Reza’s mouth following Arash’s confession was astounding. Arash would have never suspected that Reza was not only a secret follower of Jesus also, but was one of the CIA’s top assets in Iran to boot.

  Reza had penetrated deep into the guard and was funneling all he discovered back to the Americans, and by proxy, as needed, to the Israelis. The two men swore confidentiality to each other’s secrets, and their bond and friendship grew stronger as a result.

  Several months had gone by after that conversation and Arash had become more and more engrossed in his faith and had experienced many encounters with the Spirit.

  He was both petrified and nervously excited by what he felt the Lord was telling him. Me? How could I possibly be a spy? I’m afraid of noises in the house when I’m home alone, I don’t think I could have the faith or ability to be a spy? I’m just not that slick. I’m a clumsy, over-weight middle-aged tech guy. His doubts were huge and persistent. But so were the nudges he felt from the Almighty.

  The Bible was replete with stories of great heroes, prophets, and messengers who felt wholly inadequate for the callings they had received. Arash supposed he was no different. He mustered the fortitude to speak with Reza about what he was feeling.

  Within a week Reza had linked Arash with Chuck Gallagher and the wild journey into the lonely labyrinth of a spy’s life had begun. Arash had been living each day entirely on purpose ever since. Eternal purpose.

  Arash had met Chuck at a safe house in Iran per Reza’s instructions. Arash recalled the conversation vividly, as if it was currently still occurring. Chuck Gallagher commanded a presence. Arash remembered the strength of his introductory handshake and his forthright way of getting straight to the point.

  “We’re calling it Operation Persian Trinity”, said Chuck Gallagher to his newly acquired high-tech Iranian asset.

  “What’s the meaning behind the name?” asked Arash.

  “Natanz, Esfahan, and Bushehr. That’s our trinity. They’re our targets. We’ve been gathering a butt-load of MASINT on these disguised nuclear facilities since their inception, and we’re ready to deploy our attacks very soon. Natanz is all yours my man. Do you wanna be called the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost?” Gallagher threw it all right at him.

  Arash was now confused as well as overwhelmed. He remembered thinking Am I really the guy for this job? Really, Lord? Me? He knew he was wet behind the ears. It was unavoidable that he would have to ask questions that revealed just how wet. “What is MASINT?”, he asked Chuck.

  “MASINT is the data we collect on industrial activities and weapons capabilities on our enemies, in this case, your country of birth. We get this data from our airborne IMINT and SIGINT gathering systems. We also utilize a lot of TELINT and ELINT to throw into the INT salad,” Gallagher replied to add to Arash’s confusion. Gallagher smiled, knowing he was making Arash’s head spin.

  “Now you’re really losing me.” Arash smiled sheepishly.

  “Don’t worry about it boss, I’ll get you a handbook on our intelligence catalog to get you up to speed on the vernacular.” Gallagher gave Arash a strong pat on the back.

  “Good, sounds like I’ll need it.” Arash was moderately comforted.

  Gallagher went on to explain in that early briefing with Arash exactly what type of attack they were planning. “Our pals the Israeli’s have been cooking up this stew in the Negev Desert for quite some time now. We’ve been working with them on this joint effort via their nuclear facilities in Negev. You know, the one that doesn’t exist. The big Snuffleupagus of the Middle East. They’ve replicated the centrifuges that your country possesses. Those damn centrifuges have been the most tested lab rats known to the history of man since in our hands. What’re we testing? Stuxnet worm 2.0. That’s what. And this one will have teeth. This is what we have on the docket for you and Natanz. The other facilities will have different attacks.”

  “What is a Snuffleupagus?” Arash was confused.

  “You don’t know who the hell Snuffleupagus is? I guess you wouldn’t unless they’re airing old Sesame Street reruns in Farsi. Let’s just say it means something that no one knows exists, but yet it exists anyhow.” Gallagher had just made things more perplexing for Jafari.

  Arash shook his head and mumbled, “Okay, if you say so.”

  Gallagher then continued to detail the history of the Stuxnet worm and their hope for its future. Arash confirmed that he could be of assistance as a consultant throughout the testing and development phase of the virus.

  Arash’s imagination was engaged and he was beginning to feel an excitement and sense of divine purpose percolate deep within him.

  Gallagher continued to give Arash the lowdown on the history of Stuxnet.

  The Stuxnet worm was originally discovered by a firm in Belarus. Its basic function was to infiltrate key, valuable infrastructure and record all its inner workings while simultaneously co-opting and maligning those programs with a wicked re-structuring. The Stuxnet worm was the quintessential cyberweapon that re-invented the practical applications of malware for war purposes. Stuxnet’s ability to spy, infiltrate, and re-program was ambitious enough, but even more amazing was its ability to leave no traces of its work.

  When the Stuxnet worm was first deployed in 2009, it was successful in wiping out approximately one fifth of Iran’s nuclear program. This blow served to significantly stunt the program’s development. This, in combination with some Israeli hits on targeted Iranian scientists, was a major victory for America and Israel. But the final victory was yet to come.

  Since then, the Iranians had recovered and continued to press on with their nuclear goals. They managed to develop a significantly less bulky and temperamental centrifuge.

  In Negev, Israel and America were busy with the preparations for their second attack. They had managed to keep up with the progress of the Iranians and were testing replicas of their upgraded centrifuges in real time.

  Digital warfare was, in part, a patience game. The nerds at Negev were working diligently and thoroughly. They were de
termined to make the next one count, like killing a mosquito with a sledgehammer.

  Gallagher explained the helpful role that the German company Siemens had on the back end. They, as it turned out, were the suppliers of key equipment that ended up being identified as part of the Iranian nuclear program. They worked with Idaho National Laboratory, a division of the Energy department, to discover hard-to-detect holes and vulnerabilities in their systems and equipment.

  Siemens publicly claimed these tests to be routine Q and A. Privately, however, they were working with the Unites States government to pinpoint precise ways that their product could be crippled by Stuxnet to shut down the Iranians in their apocalyptic nuclear tracks. Stuxnet 2.0, like its predecessor, was the result of a sophisticated collaboration by a number of geniuses spread throughout a number of continents.

  “So, where do I fit in Mr. Gallagher?” Arash was hungry for specifics.

  “You? Where don’t you fit in? …You’re our eyes and ears inside Natanz. Along with your technical consulting, you’ll keep us abreast of all upgrades made to the centrifuges, any hints of movement of product or materials, and any sense of possible new production or mobilization plans. You’ll confirm facility layouts and construct detailed schematics. You’ll begin feeding us well-crafted dossiers on everyone who plays any significant, or insignificant, role of regularity on a day-to-day basis inside that plant. You’ll also be the human instrument, particularly given your IT role inside the plant, to install the worm inside the system. This worm will secretly record all the normal operations of the plant and feed those visuals back to us even as it simultaneously shreds their program limb from digital damn limb.”

  “That’s a tall order for a short man.” Arash had not yet learned that humor was pretty much foreign to Chuck Gallagher. The awkward stare and look of annoyance he received quickly brought this truth to light.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Arash. We wouldn’t be having this conversation right now if my colleagues and I weren’t one hundred and ten frickin’ percent sure you could handle this.”

  “I only hope to be able to maintain such confidence.” Arash offered a genuine smile.

  “You can go ahead and hope, and in the interim, I will simply see to it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  RAMONA’S DINER, DETROIT, MICHIGAN

  Blaze was huckin’ fungry. It was rare that he could keep his appetite under reigns past 11 a.m. Especially if he had to do so while conducting a meeting. His stomach was rumbling hard as he and Bernie entered Ramona’s diner. The roadside joint was adorned with nostalgic Americana and pop culture posters, tins, and nick knacks. The patrons were salt of the earth for sure. Blaze and Bernie were certainly out of place in their three-piece suits and pea coats. Trucker hats, flannel shirts, big-ass belt buckles, and even sweatpants would have been more fitting. They sat down eager to place their orders. An attractive waitress walked over to their table. She wore a very tight tank top that revealed her belly button ring and showcased the ornate full sleeve tattoo work on her right arm.

  Blaze gave the gal his order. “I’ll have three eggs over easy with hash browns. Cheese and onions on the hash browns. Wheat toast with that. And black coffee and ice water.”

  The waitress nodded and turned to Bernie to begin taking his order until Blaze called out with an additional request. “Oh and also a side of sausage.”

  “A side of what?”

  “Sausage.” Sasidge was how he said it. It was a strange northeast slang pronunciation that Blaze could not shake saying for the life of him. He’d picked up the vernacular from his old warrior pal Zack Batt.

  “Oh, okay, sausage. Sorry, you said it weird.” The waitress smiled and turned once again to begin getting Bernie’s order.

  “I’ll just have the eggs benedict and some coffee…and your phone number.” The waitress smiled at Bernie and laughed him off. He asked her the same question every time, and by observing how her smile grew warmer upon each attempt, it was reasonable for one to be hopeful that one of these days Bernie would get her digits written on his check.

  Blaze felt agitated as his hunger grew. Diem always accused him of being an anxious eater, because the lower his blood sugar got, the more jumpy and irritable he became. In such a state, he often rebelled against his late grandfather’s policy of dining vs. shoveling. Shoveling was entirely inevitable for Blaze in such states of hunger.

  Finally, the food came. Blaze began digging in immediately like a starved Viking famished from a hard fought battle. Bernie paused first to admire the rear view of the waitress as she left their table, and then he dug in.

  After his initial hunger pains were relieved, Blaze began to speak. “I’m glad that case finally closed. Great guy, and I respect the due diligence he put into it, but it sure did seem to take forever.”

  “For sure. A boost like that will certainly help our numbers, and the plan will really help him keep Uncle Sam away going forward. I dunno though, I don’t think I can handle any more speeches on the coming global financial collapse when it comes time to do our first quarterly review with him. I just don’t understand that kind of paranoid mindset.” Bernie was not prone to imaginative negativity about the future. He didn’t lean to any extremes that Blaze could identify.

  Bernie Miller was, above all else, a self-described pragmatist when it came to financial matters. He had described himself to Blaze as being a social liberal and a fiscal conservative. He usually voted Democrat but often vocally criticized the party for promoting loose fiscal policy.

  In terms of his personal finances, Bernie had done remarkably well in his eighteen-year career as a financial advisor. He had acquired substantial wealth spread decisively and prudently across many asset classes. But you’d never know it if you saw him driving up to a cheap restaurant in his beat up Ford escort. You’d know it less after seeing him emerge from that vehicle with his hand feverishly digging into his cheap suit pocket to fetch a buy-one-get-one-free coupon. All for a meal he’d write off anyhow.

  This, of course, was the key to his success in many ways. Frugality was one thing, but Bernie’s brand was unparalleled. Blaze wondered if he ever even enjoyed what he had earned. He worried that Bernie’s focus on preserving and growing his wealth superseded any impulse to loosen his belt and lighten up on even the most benign spending indulgence. This personality trait, which on the surface was admirable and worthy of emulating, seemed to be, beneath the surface, a restrictive characteristic. Blaze suspected that it might impede Bernie emotionally in his relationships. Partly an overreaction to the spendthrift habits of his whimsical ex-wife, and partly just the way he was naturally wired, his scrooge-like attitude was deep and penetrating.

  “Frank’s a tad paranoid, but he’s right about a lot of things. The signs are everywhere. I don’t know if it’ll all play out exactly the way he describes, but there are definitely some bad things looming.” Blaze dipped his toast into the runny yoke of his eggs and waited for Bernie to respond.

  “What? Are you one of those whacko doom and gloomers now? C’mon, all you need to do is take a rational and objective look at the history of the market, the history of the country, and the history of the ebb and flow of the economy, and you’ll see that all these things go in cycles. We’re just riding out a particularly prolonged downturn that has been exacerbated by do-good politicians. Their meddling hands have extended the pain. But that don’t mean that the pain can’t be reversed.” Bernie had no tolerance for alarmists and conspiracy theory psychos.

  Blaze was used to hearing Bernie’s views on the financial markets. He was also used to finding ways to open up Bernie’s perspective a bit. Blaze replied, “I know that your mind works in linear patterns and with the dominance of left-brained deductions. I get it. I know that unseen forces and probabilities don’t enter into your mental framework. That’s not how you’re wired, but…”

  “Linear patterns? Blaze, I
don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Look, you need to understand that there are many factors of the modern age, the global nature of our economy, and the rapidity of the infringement of globalism that make this downturn very, very different from times past. Not to mention the powder keg of radical Islam and the threats it poses to us. We’re extremely vulnerable to a perfect storm that could sink the proverbial US ship very quickly if certain things converge simultaneously.” Now Blaze had really poked the bear inside Bernie.

  “C’mon. Globalism? Really? What does that even mean? I don’t see it. I hear you on radical Islam. That, I get. But this whole dramatic new world order fear? I’m not buying it.” Bernie stuffed a large bite of eggs benedict in his mouth and jammed in some toast as well. He continued his refutation while still chewing. “Look, I believe in God just like anyone else. I know many arrogant Protestants don’t think Catholics are really Christian, but I’ll have you know that we are.”

  Blaze threw his hands in the air in a defensive posture and interrupted, “Bro, I got love for the Catholics as much as anyone else. I dunno what you’re talking about.”

  Bernie ignored the comment. “Anyway, I know that you got that drunken preacher friend of yours feeding you all of this apocalyptic hogwash. I know how that plays into your vulnerability to believe the worst about the future.”

  “You’re right about Pastor McCardle, Bernie. He does strongly believe that we’re in the end of days and the Holy Spirit is not the only spirit he has a weakness for. I ain’t buying all of it yet either, but I do respect him, and I reserve the right to change my mind.”

  “Blaze, you need to understand that every time in history when war strikes, or hard economic times emerge, religious people of certain ilk come forth with panic-induced apocalyptic warnings. I just ain’t buying it.”