Operation Devil's Vengeance Read online

  OPERATION DEVIL'S VENGEANCE

  MJ JAVANI

  Copyright © 2020 by UNIT 81 LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, electronic, graphic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except brief quotations used for reviews.

  Operation Devil’s Vengeance is a work of fiction. The people and events depicted in this story are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Published by:

  UNIT 81 PUBLISHING

  United States of America

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-7330093-2-4

  Print book ISBN: 978-1-7330093-3-1

  Learn more about the author at www.mj-javani.com

  In Loving Memory of Roz

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. Residence of Dr. Ray Simmons, Leesburg, Virginia

  2. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Diseases, Akanlu, Iran

  3. Arlington Memorial Hospital, Arlington, Virginia

  4. Entebbe International Airport, Uganda

  5. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Disease, Akanlu, Iran

  6. Coco Delicia Restaurant, Brasília, Brazil

  7. Peninsula Lago Sul, Brasília, Brazil

  8. Via S3, Brasília, Brazil

  9. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Disease, Akanlu, Iran

  10. Shahram Sabeti's apartment, Asa Sul, Brasília, Brazil

  11. Peninsula Lago Sul, Brasília, Brazil

  12. Royal Tulip Hotel, Brasília, Brazil

  13. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Disease, Akanlu, Iran

  14. Vali-Asr Hospital, Tehran, Iran

  15. Arthur’s Restaurant, Geneva, Switzerland

  16. Russian Naval Facility, Tartus, Syria

  17. Geneva, Switzerland

  18. InterContinental Hotel, Geneva, Switzerland

  19. InterContinental Hotel, Geneva, Switzerland

  20. Reception Room, Four Seasons Hotel, Geneva, Switzerland

  21. Lufthansa Air Flight, Above the Atlantic Ocean

  22. Consulate of Islamic Republic of Iran, Geneva, Switzerland

  23. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Disease, Akanlu, Iran

  24. Unit 81 Safe House, McLean, Virginia

  25. White House Situation Room, Washington, DC

  26. Unit 81 Headquarters, Herndon, Virginia

  27. Olive Farm, Southern Idlib, Syria

  28. Supreme Council for National Security Meeting Room, Tehran, Iran

  29. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Diseases, Akanlu, Iran

  30. Les Côtes-de-Corps, France

  31. Olive Farm, Southern Idlib, Syria

  32. Qods Force Headquarters, Qasr-e Firuzeh District, Tehran, Iran

  33. Islamic Chamber of Commerce, Lyon, France

  34. White House Situation Room, Washington, DC

  35. ProtoVax Headquarters, Lyon, France

  36. Sequoia Restaurant, Washington, DC

  37. Salehi Residence, Hamadan, Iran

  38. Vali-Asr Hospital, Tehran, Iran

  39. Monte Carlo, Monaco

  40. Mayflower Hotel, Washington, DC

  41. Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo, Monaco

  42. Zahedan Airport, Zahedan, Iran

  43. Oceanographic Museum, Monaco

  44. Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo, Monaco

  45. La Femme Exotique Gentlemen’s Club, Monaco

  46. Behesht-e Zahra Cemetery, Tehran, Iran

  47. Bosco Café, Kremlin, Moscow

  48. Tijuana, Mexico

  49. Vnukovo International Airport, Moscow, Russia

  50. Pine Valley, California

  51. Espinas Palace Hotel, Tehran, Iran

  52. Unit 81 Safe House, McLean, Virginia

  53. Dulles Airport, Virginia

  Glossary of Terms and Names

  about the author

  Thank you for downloading this e-book

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  1. Residence of Dr. Ray Simmons, Leesburg, Virginia

  September 21

  It was time to move. They stood in darkness among the trees wearing tactical uniforms and matching ski masks. Only four of them had orders to enter the house. The fifth man waited in the home next door. They were trained to perfection for maximum lethality. Night-vision goggles covered their eyes as they waited for thirty minutes. At 11:30 p.m., Dr. Ray Simmons and his wife, Connie, shut the bedroom lights. The assault team crept slowly toward the house. The bushes surrounding the pool provided an extra layer of cover. The decision to attack Dr. Simmons at home was taken after learning the large estates in this section of Leesburg, Virginia, a suburb of Washington, DC, were built a significant distance apart from one another. The assault team rented the house in the adjacent property. For the past four months, their pattern of life indicated that they were technology entrepreneurs.

  When the assault team commander put his fist in the air, pulling down an invisible cord, all four men ran in unison up the stairwell and onto the back deck. Their movements were synchronized to perfection, like the Swiss watches on their wrists. The commander bit his lip, catching himself before tripping over a garbage can lid. One wrong move would destroy months of preparation. He gently pushed the lid aside and motioned his team forward. In front of them, four floor-to-ceiling windows opened into the living room from the back deck. As expected, one of the windows was ajar. They removed the external screen and walked in one after the other. It was no accident the team had chosen this method of entry. Connie Simmons had posted photos of the living room on her public Facebook page. The pictures had revealed that alarm sensors did not protect these windows.

  From the living room, the commander and two others cautiously walked through the kitchen toward the front of the house. A winding staircase led to the bedrooms upstairs. One assault team member was responsible for preparing the kitchen sitting room for the ghastly task ahead. Upstairs, the rest of the men proceeded to the master bedroom in silence. The corrupt scientist and his wife deserve what they’ll get; these Americans have too much space for just two people, the commander thought.

  As soon as Dr. Simmons opened his eyes, duct tape was used to cover his mouth, along with his hands and feet. Dr. Simmons frantically turned to his side. His wife had fared no better. Moments later, husband and wife were dragged through the hall and down the stairs. Their legs hit every single step of the stairway. Two wooden chairs from the kitchen table faced each other. Dr. Simmons was tied to one while his wife was tied to the other. The assault team, navigating the darkness with goggles, kept the lights off.

  The four men stood in silence to create fear. Connie shook nervously in her seat. Finally, the commander spoke out. His voice sounded ominous in the dark.

  “Dr. Ray Simmons, do you vant to live or die?” the commander asked.

  The question hung in the air without an answer. The commander moved forward to yank the tape covering Dr. Simmons’s mouth. The scientist let out a quiet gasp.

  “Damn it, what’s the meaning of this? I’ll tell where we keep all our jewelry and valuables.”

  “Are you Dr. Ray Simmons vith the US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases at Fort Detrick, Maryland?”

  After a long silence, the commander continued. “Perhaps that question was too difficult. Are you a microbiologist?
”

  “Yes.”

  “Ve’re not here for your jewelry.”

  “What is it you want, then?”

  “Ve’ve heard you’ve been doing some dangerous research. Ve vant you to teach us vhat you’ve learned.”

  Dr. Simmons remained silent.

  “Ve need to talk about your new veapon.”

  “I don’t know anything about a new weapon,” Dr. Simmons said.

  “You’re so modest, Doctor. You’re the vorld’s top expert in this field. Ve’re eager to learn from you.”

  “Please, you’ve made a terrible mistake. Yes, I’m Dr. Simmons, but I develop vaccines, that’s it.”

  After a brief pause, the commander raised his voice. “Please don’t lie to me. Ve’ve followed you every morning driving north on Route 15, all the way up to Fort Detrick. Ve know vhat happens in Fort Detrick.”

  “Okay, okay. I work for the US Army at Fort Detrick. So what? The army needs vaccines to protect our soldiers. I’ll tell you all I know to protect yourself from influenza, if that’s what you want.”

  Seconds later, the lights in the kitchen came on. The assault team stood silently around Dr. Simmons and his wife. Their goggles were now holstered, and their masks came off their faces. One of them removed a twenty-centimeter serrated combat knife from inside a pant leg while the others watched.

  “You guys! I’ve said hello to you every morning for the past few months. What kind of sick joke is this?” Dr. Simmons said.

  “Maybe everything is a fucking joke to you Americans but not for us. This is serious business,” the commander said.

  “No. God, please no.”

  As Dr. Simmons pleaded, one of the men drove the combat knife straight into Connie’s uncovered thigh. Blood squirted out around the metal blade, then slid down her leg and trickled to the floor. Connie squirmed, trying without luck to jump out of the chair. Her efforts to scream were muffled by the duct tape as her eyes pleaded for help. The man who stabbed her thigh took the knife out while another placed a pad over the wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

  “Next ve take out her eye unless you cooperate,” the commander said.

  “Okay, you sick bastard, but my research is sensitive, and my notes are all inside the lab. You can drive me over to Fort Detrick, and I’ll get what you need,” Dr. Simmons said as tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Nice try. You’ll tell us everything you know right here in this house. I brought this for you.” A notepad and pen were placed in front of Dr. Simmons. “If I think you’re giving me shit information, I’ll kill your wife.”

  “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Everything. Vhat do we need to duplicate your new veapon?”

  As Dr. Simmons wrote, one of the men slammed the doors of the kitchen cabinets one by one.

  “Do you have any tea in this house?” the man asked.

  Dr. Simmons stared for several seconds. His eyes were now filled with hate. “There are Lipton tea bags in the top shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge.”

  The man calmly filled a kettle with water before placing it on the stove. Although the men were used to brewing their tea, they were stuck with the American tea bags for the moment. As the water came to a boil, the commander walked over to Dr. Simmons to check his progress. Within seconds he shouted, “Ve need to know the primary instrument of delivery. How do you keep it alive outside the body?”

  The assailants took turns drinking their tea. One of them remained behind Connie at all times, with a knife under her throat. At 2:30 a.m., Dr. Simmons put his pen down.

  “You’re finished?”

  “Yes, I am finished,” Dr. Simmons replied mockingly.

  The commander ignored the slight. He walked over to review the notes. After ten minutes, he proclaimed his satisfaction. “Very good, very good. I hope you’re not lying to me. I know vhere you live. I also know vhere your kids live.”

  “I’m aware,” Dr. Simmons said.

  “Okay, ve’re done here,” the commander said while putting the notepad inside a small bag.

  “Are you going to let us go now?” Dr. Simmons asked with a quivering voice.

  “Not exactly,” came the terse reply. The commander maneuvered behind Dr. Simmons, watching the hairs rise on the back of his neck. The American seemed surprised as the commander grabbed his ear. A split second later, Dr. Simmons shook his head, still clearly oblivious of what had happened.

  “Are you pissing on my neck, you sick bastard?” Dr. Simmons demanded, still in shock, as an earlobe landed on his lap. The American was suddenly aware that the warm liquid on his neck was blood. The expression of horror on Connie’s face served as confirmation. As he suddenly writhed in pain, Dr. Simmons pleaded, “Why are you doing this? I gave you everything you wanted!”

  “You don’t understand, ve need to make it look like a robbery. The police vill think you didn’t tell us vhere the money was, so we had to kill you.”

  Seconds later, commands were given in a language Dr. Simmons was not expected to understand. Two assault team members ran upstairs.

  “It’s time to pay for the crimes of your government, Doctor,” the commander said while placing duct tape over Dr. Simmons’s mouth once more. A minute later, Dr. Simmons’s other ear was chopped off. The American was almost unconscious, but the nauseating stench must have brought him back. It was burning flesh. One of the men pressed a lit cigarette against Connie’s thigh. Seconds later, the commander gave the order to put her out of her misery. One of his men placed a silenced pistol over Connie’s left temple and pulled the trigger.

  His bleeding wife was the last thing Dr. Simmons saw before his own demise. The shell casings were picked up as the scene was sanitized for evidence. The house was sacked, and the jewelry was taken. Sofa cushions were overturned as cookie jars were emptied. When the commander was finally satisfied, he gave the order to retreat. It was now 3:15 in the morning. They had to catch a 6:00 a.m. flight to Toronto. The assault team gathered its equipment and exited the house the same way it had entered. They ran past the pool and through the tree line to the adjacent property.

  Inside the garage, the fifth member of the assault team was waiting in the car. They locked the equipment and fatigues in the garage storage closet. The driver headed toward the Toll Road, arriving at Dulles Airport at 4:00 a.m. No one would search for Dr. Simmons until Monday morning. An hour and a half later, the commander boarded the plane with his men. His superior was anxiously waiting for the precious notes.

  2. Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Diseases, Akanlu, Iran

  September 22

  Dr. Roozbeh Navabi adjusted his stance to ease the pressure on his legs. He’d been standing for fifteen minutes. Beads of sweat dripped out of every pore on his body. It was the sensation of countless insects crawling under his skin, taking tiny bites of his flesh. Addressing the itch was completely out of the question. The pipette in his right hand contained a culture of the SARS virus. The deadly strain had recently infected several individuals in the capital city of Tehran. It was essential to develop a vaccine. Roozbeh pressed the button under his thumb and inserted the SARS culture into the small tube. After closing the cap and placing it on a rack, he released the pipette tip into the proper receptacle before walking over to the tube rack. The SARS culture had to be analyzed, the DNA extracted, then sequenced for further study.

  The Research Center for Emerging and Reemerging Infectious Diseases, or RCERID, was considered Iran’s premier center for epidemiological research. A division of the Pasteur Institute of Iran, RCERID was located in the remote village of Akanlu, surrounded by mountains. Far from urban populations, it provided Tehran authorities a safe location to study deadly infectious diseases. Founded in 1952, the center was the most well-funded biological laboratory in the country. It was one of Iran’s best-kept secrets, and that’s the way the authorities liked it. Roozbeh approached an incubator that held the strains of different pathogens. A tele
phone at a nearby desk lit up. He picked up.

  “Roozbeh, they’re ready for you in lab five.”

  “What about the rat, have you administered the sedative?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long ago?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s not good enough, the rat must be properly sedated. Otherwise, we’ll have a serious problem.”

  “I understand.”

  Roozbeh hung up. After exiting the lobby of the main building, he walked across the courtyard. Labs 5 and 6 were both located in a building resembling a large house. Roozbeh scanned his badge, opening the main entrance. All along the walls, ceiling-mounted cameras monitored the activity of the scientists around the clock. The two labs in this building had a ventilation system that generated negative pressure, allowing air to flow in but not to escape the rooms. After scanning his badge a second time, Roozbeh entered an anteroom that separated lab 5 from the main hallway. There were two doors in this room perpendicular to each other. The doors interlocked to prevent them from being opened at the same time. The anteroom provided space for changing into a biohazard suit before entering lab 5.

  After tightening his suit, Roozbeh punched in a code that opened the steel door. The light display turned green as he walked in. There were three other men already present, Dr. Iman Vakili and two assistants. The others wore the same suit as Roozbeh. Unfortunately, these were not the positive-pressure suits he had requested for work with biosafety level-4 (BSL-4) pathogens. This experiment required the injection of a lab rat with a live strain of the Crimean-Congo virus. The virus caused a hemorrhagic fever with a thirty percent fatality rate in humans. After a three-day incubation period, infected individuals exhibited flulike symptoms including high fever. Similar to Ebola, Crimean-Congo made victims bleed out of various orifices. It also made them experience mood changes, becoming irritable and at times overly aggressive. Still others became confused, exhibiting symptoms of amnesia. Even worse were the nosebleeds, bloody stools, and vomiting.