Murphy's Other Law

Murphy’s Other Law

by

Patrick M. Sheridan

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive, Suite 200

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

© 2009 Patrick M. Sheridan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/26/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4343-8824-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4343-8823-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-3702-6(ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2008904646

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

Acknowledgements

If anything can go wrong, it will.

Murphy’s Law

Prologue

1997

The desert dweller stood in a crowded bazaar at the center of Tehran. He had been following Achmed al-Barzanie since al-Barzanie had left the Ayatollah’s personal residence. Achmed al-Barzanie appeared to be shopping, while constantly looking for the desert dweller. The desert dweller slowly worked his way to al-Barzanie’s side and said, I am the one you were sent to find.

Follow me, said al-Barzanie. He brushed past the desert dweller. Stay ten paces behind and keep your head down. Do not make eye contact with anyone.

The desert dweller could have taught al-Barzanie more about remaining invisible in a crowd than the man would learn in a lifetime, but he dutifully obeyed. Al-Barzanie turned into an alley and walked fifty more paces before turning into a relatively deserted section of a small warehouse area. He walked up to a car and held open the back door.

Put the mask over your head, tie it around your neck, and lie down on the seat. Do not move until I open the door again. Once the desert dweller lay on the seat, al-Barzanie threw a blanket over his body and drove away.

When the car finally stopped, they were alone in an underground garage. It was the only car in the garage, but the desert dweller could not know that with the hood still covering his head. He was led through a series of locked doors. Once inside a small room he was told to remove his hood.

I will now frisk you, said al-Barzanie firmly but politely, as he began to pat down the desert dweller in a thorough military body search. You have no identification, no papers of any kind. How do you respond to police or military inquiries?

I avoid them, said the desert dweller. Documents would be made available if I ever needed them, but I’ve never been asked for them.

Sit in this chair, said al-Barzanie. I will inform the Ayatollah that you are here.

The room was small, but comfortable, with two easy chairs that faced each other. Next to each chair was a small table with a lamp. A small table sat between them.

A few minutes passed, then al-Barzanie opened the door and Ahmad Ali Ahmadjani, the Grand Ayatollah of Iran, entered the room. Al-Barzanie closed the door from the outside, leaving the Ayatollah and the desert dweller alone. The desert dweller had been standing since the door began to open. He bowed and said Salam O Alaykum.

The Ayatollah said Salam O Alaykum, and sat down. The Ayatollah was in his late sixties, but had a commanding presence. He wore a full white robe which almost matched his beard. He pointed to the opposite chair. The desert dweller sat and waited for the Ayatollah to speak.

I have never before met privately with anyone about whom I have known so little, said the Ayatollah in Farsi. You look very different than you did when we met briefly in Egypt.

A different look for a different audience, said the desert dweller in perfect Farsi with a Damascus accent. The desert dweller wore the street robes of a common worker who would blend into a crowd in Tehran, Baghdad, Damascus, Cairo, or any other city in the Middle East.

The Ayatollah set an envelope on the table. The Saudi Prince who gave me this envelope assured me that whatever you had to say would be of great significance, although he admitted he had no idea of the content of your message. I have known and trusted the prince for most of my life, even though he is a Sunni. He has never before put his personal reputation on the line for anyone. Before you tell me what is of such great significance, I would like to ask you a few questions. Are you a Muslim?

Yes.

Are you a Shiite?

No, like the prince, I am a Sunni.

Ninety percent of Iran is Shia. said the Ayatollah. Why don’t you take your information to the leader of a Sunni country?

My enemy is the west, particularly the United States, said the desert dweller. My view on the differences between Shiites and Sunnis pales compared to my hatred for America. Of the world’s billion and a half Muslims, eighty-five percent are Sunnis. Perhaps if a Shiite nation executed the most significant attack on the most powerful nation in the history of the world, the Sunni’s would look at them with much greater respect. The nations of Islam might finally be able to build trust based on that new respect.

Is your hatred of America based on a personal experience? asked the Ayatollah.

I have personal reasons that will remain personal, said the desert dweller. But I hate the way they denigrate our culture, our religion, our people, and how they bribe their way into the governments that support their ambitions to dominate the world, including our friends, the Saudis.

Everyone seems to hate the Americans these days, said the Ayatollah, but most do nothing about it. Why should I believe that you will be different?

You will believe it because I am who I am.

Yes, well, said the Ayatollah, I need to learn more about you. I know little more than what I see before me. I have memory of a very brief but cordial meeting in Egypt a few years ago. I have this envelope that was delivered to me by a trusted friend. As you know, it contained a single 3 ½ by 2 inch size business-card with nothing printed on it. Handwritten on the back is today’s date and a location in the bazaar. That was where my man, al-Barzanie, found you.

The desert dweller removed a business card from inside his robe and set it on the table that separated the two chairs. As he slid it across to the Ayatollah, the Ayatollah noticed his hands looked strong and wiry. The side of the card facing up was completely blank. On the other side was a picture of a Scorpion, poised to strike. Am I to deduce from the card that you are the man known as the Scorpion?"

Yes, I am.

The Ayatollah had a new look of admiration on his face as he looked at the Scorpion with this new information. This is very interesting. The Scorpion is the most feared terrorist in the Muslim world, and yet Interpol and most national intelligence agencies are not even sure that you exist.

And yet here I am, said the Scorpion with a smile. The Ayatollah thought the smile reflected quiet confidence without any arrogance or search for recognition.

Yes. Here you are. You are credited with more creative acts of terror than even Osama Bin Laden, and yet, no one captured in any country has ever acknowledged having seen you. All over the world Osama is a household name and yet you remain as much a mystery as the old European terrorist, Carlos the Jackal. Most believed he was a myth until the day he was arrested. Why do you operate this way?

First, Osama is in the recruiting and training business. I am not. He needs publicity to attract people. The Scorpion made a gesture that brushed away a need for publicity. I act alone until I am ready to execute an operation. Then I select people who need only my direction, not training. Second, no one but you knows that I am the Scorpion. So no one until this very moment could possibly identify me.

My right hand man, Achmed al-Barzanie, has also seen you, said the Ayatollah.

"If you were to tell al-Barzanie of my identity, as you know from having seen me in Egypt, I could change my appearance. I could meet al-Barzanie in an hour and he would swear an oath to Allah that he had never seen me before

Does the Saudi Prince know you are the Scorpion?

No. He might have guessed that I am someone chosen to pass along a message from the Scorpion based on an unrelated event years ago. I trusted him not to open the envelope so he does not even know that we are meeting

It appears that he did not open it, said the Ayatollah, now leaning forward and showing more interest in his guest than he had before knowing he was in the presence of the Scorpion. Let me go back to your method of operation. You never even take credit for those events that you are responsible for. Why is that?

I don’t need credit. I only pray for results.

The Ayatollah smiled. Most of the groups, including al-Qaeda are not capable of committing some of the acts that you have done, even though they have claimed credit for them.

I follow the news, but I never acknowledge or deny anything. There are events that others say they have accomplished. They had nothing to do with them. There have been events attributed to me that I did not do. None of that matters. All glory is to Allah, not to those with public relations departments.

Am I really the only person in the world who knows you are the Scorpion? asked the Ayatollah, looking a little skeptical.

You are the only person who could identify me as the Scorpion. You are the only person who has ever seen the business card and seen me in person, said the Scorpion as he looked completely comfortable in his disguise. He knew that what he was about to say could be mistaken as a challenge but he had to let the Ayatollah understand that regarding this matter, he had limits that even the Ayatollah had to accept. But even you don’t know who I really am, and you will never know my given name, or where I am from, or where I can be found. That is not negotiable and all the computers and intelligence agents in Iran can search forever and will never learn those things.

The man I sent only knew where to find you, said the Ayatollah. He has not seen your card. If I decide to join you in your idea, he may need to know whatever I know. He is the oldest, closest, most trusted advisor I have. We have been together for over thirty years.

He can know that I represent the Scorpion and that, eventually, he also will represent the Scorpion. He doesn’t need to know more that that.

You have a reputation for committing extremely violent acts. Is that an accurate reputation? asked the Ayatollah, looking apprehensive as he waited for the Scorpion’s response.

I plan an action. I recruit the people who will execute that action, and I have them swear an oath before Allah that they will not betray their loyalty to Allah, or to me. Any violation carries with it the worst death penalty imaginable. Torturing people does not trouble me. Those I torture do not deserve a quick death. Whenever anyone violates their oath, I publicly execute them. I execute their families, and their pets, and their friends in a manner that ensures a long time will pass before anyone repeats that violation again. For betraying Allah, I believe humiliating public punishment is both appropriate and necessary.

The Ayatollah again picked up the Scorpion’s business card. He studied the picture for a few moments as he considered his next question.

Is there any particular reason that you have decided to propose your idea to me? There are a lot of Muslim leaders who hate America and a lot of countries that would give anything to retaliate against America. America has humiliated and embarrassed our people by its blind support of Israel and by its determination to control the Middle East and our oil fields.

Yes, there is another reason said the Scorpion. Iran is the most secretive nation in the entire Middle East. You can accomplish things without detection better than any other country in the Muslim world. The CIA has little luck infiltrating your country. It has little reliable information about you. Even the Americans admit they can’t get reliable data on what goes on in Iran. This project must be kept absolutely secret for a very long time. I believe Iran is the right country for the plan I am about to propose.

I see, said the Ayatollah. Let us take a short break while I have tea brought in. Then I will hear your idea.

The Ayatollah pressed a button on a side table and the door opened. His most trusted advisor, al-Barzanie, entered, bringing in tea. He set it down without saying a word and he left.

The cups were rare works of art, created by artisans many centuries earlier. The Ayatollah noted the Scorpion admiring their craftsmanship and said, A gift from the late Shah who was in such a hurry to leave Iran that he could not take all his wealth with him. It is the only object of great wealth in my home. I drink from them to remind me that when Muslims place a value on material things, they tend to forget that all things come from Allah and they might lose everything.

The Shah learned that lesson the hard way, said the Scorpion.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as they drank their tea. The Ayatollah considered all that he had heard since he found out that his guest was the Scorpion, while the Scorpion wondered if the Ayatollah was prepared for the most devastating plan he would ever hear.

Finally, the Ayatollah set down his tea and said, Now, what is it you want me to know?

Within the hour, the Scorpion had outlined an extraordinary plot. That is extremely ambitious, said the Ayatollah. Almost overnight, it would reduce America to a second-rate country. No such weapon exists. What makes you think it can be created?

It can be done, said the Scorpion. It is a matter of trial and error, but the most brilliant minds in the Muslim world will be able to create what I need.

How long will it take?

It could take eight, ten, maybe even twelve years. That is why the project must be conducted in complete secrecy.

Do you have a team in mind?

Yes. If you are interested in going forward, I can give it to you now.

Show me the list, said the Ayatollah.

The Scorpion picked up the pad of paper and the pen on the lamp table and wrote two columns. The first column contained a name. Next to it in the second column was the name of the country where the Muslim lived. When he finished, there were twelve names on the list. He handed it to the Ayatollah.

Do you know these men? asked the Ayatollah.

I am familiar with the work of a few, but I have only met one. He would not remember meeting me. They are all Muslim scientists, educated throughout the world at Oxford, Harvard, The Sorbonne, Johns Hopkins, Beijing, Cambridge, in addition to the best universities in the Middle East. They are generally recognized by both Muslim and non-Muslim academicians as among the most brilliant minds in their respective fields.

What is it that you want me to do? asked the Ayatollah.

First, help me to recruit these men. I want them to devote the rest of their lives to this project. They must not tell anyone, not even their families, where they will go. We must make them understand that they will be responsible for every person in the world knowing that only Allah has supreme powers over the earth.

What do you suggest we do if any refuse? Do we want them if they join involuntarily? The Scorpion smiled at the Ayatollah’s use of the term, we.

No. Just give me the names of those who decline. We cannot afford to let them live. Otherwise, they might some day assist western authorities if they begin to search for us. No, those who do not join us will be dead within 24 hours and I will give you replacement names.

I will need to have my friend Achmed al-Barzanie coordinate recruitment in Iran. When he brought you here, you had a chance to see him operate. I assure you that he can be trusted with any secret and with any responsibility.

So be it, said the Scorpion. I trust your judgment with respect to his loyalty to you and to Allah. He can be told that, like me, he represents the Scorpion.

What else do you ask of me? asked the Ayatollah.

Put the team of scientists in a facility far from Tehran, Mashad, Isfahan, Tabriz, or any other major population center, or any city with military bases nearby. Locate the facility far from any location where you might be developing nuclear weapons. In the event that Iran is attacked, it is imperative that the underground facility remain undamaged.

It will be done, said the Ayatollah. We have an underground facility that is known only to a few Iranians. No one outside of Iran is aware of its existence.

Then you will play the role of the magician, said the Scorpion with a smile. No one sees the tiger disappear because the magician keeps the audience looking elsewhere. Keep the Americans distracted, worried about whether you will develop a traditional nuclear weapon, or invade Israel, or interfere in the affairs of Iraq or Lebanon. While they look elsewhere, our project will proceed without suspicion.

What will be your role? asked the Ayatollah.

I will be in touch with you no matter how many years it takes. When we believe we are within a year of completing the weapon, I will assemble a team to bring the weapon into the United States and execute the plan.

How will I reach you? asked the Ayatollah.

The London Times is available in every major city in the world. Place a small ad in the Sunday real estate section that simply reads, ‘Desert Dweller. We have the perfect home for you’. Add a non-existent phone number. Within a week, I will be in Tehran and I’ll find al-Barzanie.

What will we do if you or I die? asked the Ayatollah.

I will reach your successor through al-Barzanie. If you both die simultaneously, I will use an intermediary to introduce us as I did this time. If I die, you will need to develop your own delivery plan for delivering the weapon into the United States.

How will you reach us? asked the Ayatollah.

If I need to talk to you, I will come to Tehran and find al-Barzanie.

The Ayatollah stood. It has been a most interesting meeting. I will spend a moment with al-Barzanie. Then he will take you to your destination.

The Scorpion nodded and waited for al-Barzanie to enter. He smiled. After years of developing it, his plan had been put into action. America’s days as the world’s only super power would be coming to an end.

1

Wu Chen could see The Great Wall of China from the window of his boyhood home. His home was located in the coastal city of Shanhaiguan at the most easterly section of the wall.

It was the only man-made structure on earth visible from outer space and it was less than 200 meters from his window. For centuries, the Great Wall had been a daunting sight to invaders from the North, particularly when garrisoned by one-million Chinese soldiers looking down from its 10,000 towers. Wu Chen had often dreamed of being a soldier on the wall, protecting China from invading hordes of Mongols.

By the time he was 11 years old, Wu Chen knew more about the two-thousand year construction of The