THREE DAYS LATER
NORTHERN SYRIA—JANUARY 28, 2020—02:30 / 2:30 A.M. EET
The moonlit ground was a blur as it raced by 30 meters below. The air pouring through the open door of the Sikorsky UH-60 Yanshuf, the “Owl,” was freezing, but Nir soaked it in. It kept him fresh, on edge, ready to go. The helicopter, called a Black Hawk most other places it was employed, was on loan from the 123 Squadron of the IDF, the Desert Birds Squadron, as was the full gear kit he wore. Normally, he liked to go more stealth—try to blend in with the population. This was not that kind of operation.
On his head was a Rabintex ceramic helmet with a Mitznefet desert camouflage covering. Because of the full moon in the cloudless sky, he thought it best that the team try to blend into the ever-present ground rather than the sporadic shadows. On his body was a Marom Dolphin semi-modular plate carrier in case a firefight broke out, but he prayed it wouldn’t. On his legs were Axis kneepads, and he wore black Belleville combat boots. Because of where they were going, all flags and Hebrew writing had been removed from his gear. A Jericho 941 9mm hung on his hip, and strapped to his chest was an IMI Micro Galil compact carbine rifle that carried 35 5.56×45mm NATO rounds in its magazine. The four Kidon operators from his team were similarly outfitted, as were the five Sayeret special forces troops he’d borrowed from the IDF. They flew in the second Yanshuf behind him.
It had been a ridiculously long journey so far, with way more complication than he’d wanted. Abu Mustafa al-Sheibani had picked the perfect place to hang out and work on his arms smuggling, because it was right on the edge of you can’t get there from here if here meant Israel. It was nearly 1,600 kms to get from the Golan Heights to Al-Hasakah. Sure, they could have parachuted in, but then what? It’s pretty hard to parachute back out. The best option was the Yanshuf, but fuel capacity made it impossible.
As Nir had studied a map, a solution came to mind. But a lot of people would have to buy into his idea. The ferry fuel range for a Yanshuf is 2,100 kms if it’s set up with its maximum number of fuel tanks. The distance from Turkey’s eastern-most Mediterranean coast to Al-Hasakah was 800 kms. Unfortunately, Turkey’s President Erdogan was currently not a big fan of Israel, so it would be difficult to say, “Hey, Recep, mind if we stop in to fuel up our helicopters on our covert mission into Syria?”
There was another option, though. Nir had Yossi do a little digging, and it turned out that the INS Hanit, an Israeli navy 5-class corvette, was within a day’s sailing to the Turkish coast. If they would move within range while still staying in international waters, then the Yanshufs could fly from the 123 Squadron’s home at Palmachim Airbase near Rishon LeZion in central Israel, refuel on the INS Hanit, then travel east to the target. The fuel window would be tight, but it could work.
Nir took his plan to Efraim Cohen, who then took it to the deputy director, who then took it to the ramsad. Four hours later, Efraim called to let Nir know the plan had been approved. He was given the contacts in the navy and the air force to make it happen, and those contacts, though skeptical, had been fully cooperative.
A voice came through his coms unit. “Five minutes. That’s five minutes.”
Nir stretched his legs and shook them out. It would be tough to go from four hours of flight time to hitting the ground running, but there was no other choice. He figured they had ten minutes on the ground at the most before the world came crashing down around them.
His surveillance team hadn’t left the workroom for two days, spending every moment looking at satellite images and CCTV footage, both of which were sorely lacking in this part of Syria. But Yossi was able to keep stumbling across sources, and Nicole was ready to hack a way into each. Then Dafna had spotted Abu Mustafa on the CCTV footage from outside a bank. He was getting into a white Range Rover. Now that they had him in a particular location, they were able to use the surrounding cameras to follow his trail. Eventually, the SUV pulled into a compound on the more affluent west side of town, nearer to the river.
After some more digging, Yossi tracked down a neighbor with cameras up on the second floor of his house. The feed was uploaded to the cloud, and Nicole promptly downloaded it onto her computer. Liora and Dafna began keeping vigil. Every now and then they would see Abu Mustafa stepping out of the house for a smoke. At one point, the white Range Rover drove away, and everyone held their breath. But later in the evening it returned, and their target was once again seen in the compound with a cigarette.
“Three minutes. Three minutes.”
Nir fought the urge to check his Galil again. But not only had he checked all of his equipment himself, but Yaron had also gone over it as part of their buddy check.
“Okay, men,” he said, “we’re here for one reason—to take Noblesse back to Israel for a little R and R time.” Noblesse, an Israeli brand of cigarettes, was the code name they’d given to Abu Mustafa. “He cannot die in this process or this trip is wasted. And no civilians will be killed during this operation, understood? I will have no collateral damage on my watch.”
All the men acknowledged Nir’s admonition as the Yanshuf rapidly descended.
“One minute. One minute to target.”
Excitement and fear surged through him. Back when he was fulfilling his mandatory service, his sergeant told them, “If you don’t feel a little fear, then you’re not taking what you’re doing seriously enough. In every engagement, there is the possibility that you will die. Use your fear as a motivator to keep you alert so that death doesn’t find you or any of your comrades.”
Nobody’s going to die today. Nobody on my team. Nobody on their team. In and out. Quick and easy.
“Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two… one!”
The Yanshuf hovered in place ten meters off the ground. Nir and Yaron threw rappelling ropes off the side, then wrapping his gloved hands around the rope, Nir looked Yaron in the eyes before dropping off the helicopter.