Nuclear Winter First Strike by Bobby Akart (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

nuclear weapons program. It operated three Chinese-made nuclear reactors. Its conversion facility, fuel production plant, and zirconium cladding plants were state of the art. The Chinese, through their proxy North Korea, had spared no expense in helping Iran become a nuclear powerhouse once the U.S.-imposed sanctions had been lifted years ago.

Agent L had been hired to deal the program a setback.

The security detail manning the walled perimeter of the complex was heavily armed. They wore light windbreakers to ward off the pelting sand stirred up by the October winds, customary for that time of year.

In addition to the perimeter guards, several other armed personnel could be seen wandering through the inner compound. These men were assigned to the top-level scientists who operated the facility. They were members of the Ministry of Intelligence and were not to be trifled with. Agent L had lost a partner to their assassins years ago.

The truck pulled into the loading dock area surrounded by a simple chain-link fence. If the intelligence he was given was correct, and it always was from this particular employer, the driver would park the truck and leave it for others to unload the next day. One crate on the flatbed truck would be specially identified for Agent L to view its markings with his night-vision optics. Everything he needed was contained inside.

He trusted this employer, as they’d never let him down. Naturally, he was uneasy when he learned he’d have to enter the INTC compound with nothing more than two sidearms, a knife and several Japanese shurikens, also known as throwing stars. With these minimal weapons, he could clandestinely manage to eliminate a single target or two. However, he couldn’t fight an army of security personnel when it came time to extract. An extraction that he considered near impossible, making him wonder if it was by design.

As darkness set in, he continued to surveil his surroundings. The addition of the personal bodyguards accompanying the scientists around the compound resulted in complications for the former MOSSAD operative.

Once complete darkness had set in, he located the specially marked crate and quietly pried it open with his knife. As promised, the interior contained a Galil rifle, the Israeli version of the AK-47. Weighing just over eight pounds, this battle rifle was capable of firing six hundred fifty 5.56-millimeter rounds per minute. He was provided six fifty-round magazines to complement the two hundred rounds of ammunition for his sidearm.

Agent L quickly checked the rifle and then donned the black combat vest found in the crate. The loadout would be heavy, but necessary. He secured the additional magazines in the pouches and took another few minutes to look around the compound before he moved on to the next phase of the operation.

Every light in the compound’s main entrance glowed bright, the expansive grounds fully illuminated and designed to eliminate potential hiding places. The utility yard where he was located was dimly lit by comparison, yet bright enough for him to be observed by the perimeter guards at the two towers near that side of the complex.

He tried to locate and count as many hostiles manning the fenced area as possible. His intelligence did not indicate what time the shift would change, so he had to be mindful of that plus the time for his attack. The number of armed personnel were a testament to the importance of the work being performed at Isfahan. The ten-foot-high walls surrounding the complex added to the sense of invulnerability to outside observers.

Invulnerable to most, except Agent L.

Comfortable that he wouldn’t be disturbed, he turned his attention back to the contents of the crate. Again using his night-vision optics, he undertook the arduous task of assembling a complex piece of machinery, a technological wonder that combined artificial intelligence with a deadly weapon.

While constantly checking his surroundings, Agent L assembled the components of the weapon, carefully checking his progress against the plans written in his native Hebrew. Methodically, he pieced the weapon together. He constantly checked his watch to ensure he wasn’t approaching go time. The instruction materials he’d received were adamant that he meet his employer’s timetable. There were certain preparations that had to be made, and there was no margin for error once he’d placed the weapon in position.

Once it was fully assembled, Agent L shook his head from side to side in wonderment. The weapon reminded him of something out of an American big-screen movie. He’d often said if a moviemaker could imagine it, then it could be done.

He hoisted the device onto his shoulder and stealthily climbed over the steel gate at the back of the truck. Once he was on the ground, he raced across the utility yard with the seventy-pound device weighing heavily on his back.

Agent L slid in between the dumpsters until he had a clear view of the compound’s entrance and the lush area of grass surrounded by beautifully maintained plant material. The oasis created for visitors and workers alike stood in stark contrast to the dirt-covered surroundings.

Using a small bolt cutter supplied in the crate, he cut a hole in the chain-link fence, moving slowly to avoid attracting attention. He prepared the weapon according to the instructions provided, and then he flipped down the cover of a small control panel located on the mount. He powered on the display in dark mode and entered the code provided in his materials. Then he held his breath and squinted as he watched the display for instructions. His handlers responded with a message on the screen, requesting adjustments, which he promptly complied with. Then a green light illuminated.

Check. Now he was on his own.

Agent L glanced at his watch. It was approaching the time for Salaat Fajr, the morning Shia Muslim prayer.

Quietly. Reverently. The scientists who operated the nuclear facility at Isfahan made their way into the courtyard with their prayer blankets. Among the men who would kneel that morning was Mohsen Farouk, the mastermind of the covert Iranian program to develop and then proliferate