Operation Thunderhead
by
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1 Turkish-Syrian Border somewhere on the Anatolian Plateau February 2039 Izmir Drilling Company bore site in the water table of the Tigris and Euphrates US American Economic Attaché Steve Marlon wiped the sweat from his brow and crammed the hard hat back on his head. The band was damp and cold against his skin making him shudder despite the heat. It would take about another three to four hours to get down to the deposit and if it was all it was cracked up to be there’d be all hell to pay. The Syrians would be pissed. So? What could they do about it? Nothing. This would destabilise the pro-Iranian government and make them easy pickings in the next move against the Arab Nation. $ He looked at the drilling rig, vibrating and bucking as it cut its way through the hard rock underlying the Anatolian steppe. It was a straight bore, missing the many faults that dogged the area, which was not so much good luck as good surveying. They’d got the best to do that and it had paid off. It would make it all the easier for the Turks to exploit the resource. Steve smiled the smile of a self-contented person. The job was a good ‘un. A tap on his shoulder made him start. It was the foreman and it looked as though he’d been trying to get his attention for a little while, judging by the look on his face. Trouble was, it was so noisy down here there could have been a symphony orchestra behind him and he wouldn’t have heard it. He saved the information he was working on, slipped the stylus in its slot and turned his full attention on the foreman. ‘Yeah?’ Shouting made his words barely audible to himself: the sound of drilling seemed to seep in to every pore. The pidgin lip reading he’d learnt wasn’t helping much. He knew little Turkish while the foreman only knew a bit of English. They managed – just. ‘Is good!’ The foreman was smiling. He made a circle with forefinger and thumb and then pointed back at the rig. ‘Yeah, good.’ ‘Soon we will be down to water.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘And then we will be … happy … for the future, yes?’ Steve nodded though his enthusiasm for future happiness was markedly different to the Turk’s. ‘You know it,’ he agreed, looking past the foreman to the rig. ‘Are you ready with the well head when we hit the aquifer?’ He mimed putting a plug in a sink. The Turk nodded enthusiastically. ‘Is ready.’ ‘Good!’ Steve made a walking gesture with his fingers. ‘I’m going back up to the office to finish off some paperwork. I’ll be back in three hours.’ ‘Is good Steve. Thank you, thank you.’ Steve smiled awkwardly at the profusion of gratitude showered on him by the Turk. He knew that most of the workforce came from the area; with each passing year they slipped further into water poverty. To be fair it was no different for Syria: the only difference was that Turkey had the benefit of the steppe which held the precious resource and they had every intention of getting to it first – with US help. Such was the race to secure the water that the armed forces of both countries were ranging against each other in an alarming show of force. President Udai Ibrahim had warned the Turks that any attempt to interfere with the water supply of Northern Syria would be considered an act of war. It looked as though the Turks were fully prepared to see how far he would push the point. *** Steve, wearied by the Turkish heat, dropped the hat to the floor and poured himself a gin and tonic in the site manager’s office. As he took a long slug of the liquid he allowed himself a smile of contentment. It had been a long day but a profitable one. It was time to let them know in Washington that success was about to rise in the Anatolian Steppe. *** Several thousand miles away an operative noted the opening of Zeus communications. She tagged the comm and sent a message to her boss informing him of the content. America was making its play for control of a stage of its own making. Only time would tell if they were successful. If they were there was a wealth of information to be garnered from the experience. *** Another operative in another office made a similar assessment of the situation. He filed a report to his boss. The shit could hit the fan at any moment. They had to be ready. *** On the Syrian side of the border, in the back of a large military tent, was a smaller enclosed area. Inside were several officers who snapped to attention as General Imran Baktar entered. All had ingratiating smiles on their faces, fawning to the big man. He, however, focussed on a group of young people in the centre of the big tent. They were all solemn, with transfixed, staring eyes. What they were looking at was not the imam sat intoning messages from the Koran before them. They seemed to have left this world behind. It was something he'd seen before – a thing to be beheld and revered. Suicide bombers. Baktar addressed his officers now. ‘This is how Syria will be rid of the infidel Turks. These brave soldiers of Allah will smite him with the very weapon of Western corruption that Turkey has embraced so freely. So will the jihad begin.’ An officer swallowed, a fleck of indecision fleeting across his features. ‘What are they carrying?’ His voice was tiny, lost in the impending terror he knew was coming. ‘Depleted uranium.’ The officer gaped. ‘You can’t do that! They’ll contaminate the water resource! Are you mad?’ ‘Allah bids we teach the infidel a lesson. So we march to the sound of Allah’s bidding.’ Baktar stood beaming at the horde now intoning prayers that rose in volume proportionate to their fervour. ‘This cannot happen! It is madness!’ the officer croaked as he stared in all directions, seeing only a wall of implacable faces set against him. No not him alone but anything counter to the bidding of Allah. He was merely the manifestation of the disease. Shit. He backed out of the tent. Nobody would see him go. They were too interested in the martyrs as they prepared for Paradise. Still retreating, he made it through the flap and turned to leave. Get to a vehicle and put distance between him and the fallout. ‘Sunil you disappoint me.’ Sunil started and whirled round at the sound of Baktar’s voice. The vast general was sadly shaking his head in the opening between the tents. In his hand was a gold Sig Sauer 9mm pistol pointing directly at Sunil’s chest. ‘I thought you would be more embracing.’ ‘Of what? The mass poisoning of precious resources? The use of banned weapons to mark the beginning of jihad and global war?’ ‘Now,’ Baktar admonished, ‘you accused me of rhetorical outbursts. Please.’ Sunil knew he was as feral as one of the general’s rats, his head darting, seeking a way out. Baktar nodded. ‘All those things it is true may happen, but Allah will protect his own. We will survive, yes even here. You also will have your protection.’ ‘What’s that? Sunil sneered, trying to approximate a bravery he didn’t feel. ‘A coffin?’ ‘Of course,’ Baktar said as he shot the Syrian perfectly through the heart. *** When the attack started it would be ruthless and without mercy, that much Yusuf knew. The Turks were well armed and probably, through years of intel, had the measure of their southern opponents. But in years to come the next few hours would be talked of in the same light as Israel’s Yom Kippur – only far more violent. It was to be expected. For months the Syrians had known their northern neighbour was attempting to siphon water directly from the huge but diminishing aquifer beneath the Anatolian Massif. Strictly it was in Turkey but the resource fed the Euphrates and Tigris. If they drew down on it, that in turn would draw down the water table, drying up the rivers with potentially disastrous results for the populations of Syria and Iraq. Already Iraq was getting tetchy to the south as it suffered record low levels in both rivers and lengthening dry seasons. Millions of Shiite Muslims in the far south had rebelled as the marshlands dried out for the sixth year in a row. People were dying in their
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About the Book
It is the year 2039 and the planet teeters on the brink of environmental disaster. Continued over-production and pollution has depleted all resources and made it difficult for people to find the staples of life: food; water even clean air, are all becoming increasingly difficult to find. Countries stand on the brink of war over resources, and the big political powers position themselves to covertly control the aftermath. The Cairo Environment Summit in the summer is meant to allow everybody to come to a point of agreement on what to do but the ageing political powerhouses seem intent only on injuring each other. The Old World wants immediately to limit activity, to reduce the human impact of over production. Their New World antagonists aren’t convinced, wanting to survey the planet’s resources and human activity ostensibly to identify the real causes, but really to consolidate their position before cuts happen. Whoever gains the upper hand in the war of words stands to win the war. However both Presidents vacillate over what to do, mindful of the opposing and competing political and environmental agendas that could derail the whole process. In Europe there is much talking and procrastinating while in the USA the Vice-President begins to position himself to take over from an increasingly unpopular President. Ever determined to stay one step ahead of the Old World, the US turns to its main technology partner who is the world leader in the embedded chip technology. Both powers extol the virtues of this interface which allows the user to access the internet and to maintain contact with family, friends and work colleagues by providing a direct connection between the brain and outside communications. It revolutionises living in the States: Europeans are less embracing, going for the more limited Omni chip over the American Zeus chip which provides an always on connection. After a powerful demonstration of its capabilities the US Government commits itself to a covert operation over which it finds it has increasingly less control. It’s own Senate Committee investigations on environmental change challenge the wisdom of the country’s stance but the two key witnesses soon realise they are fighting a losing battle with all save, perhaps, the chairperson. When the deaths begin, mysterious and without apparent cause, detectives in Europe seek to find out who might be behind the apparently unconnected but similar sudden deaths. In the US secret services agencies wonder whether they can stay on top of the increasing number of human infiltrations that threaten the very security of the country and the military stability of the world. KEY CHARACTERS: George Aspen: 50-something ex Greenpeace activist and eminent environmentalist. He is giving evidenceto the Senate Committee, along with European counterpart and long-time friend Roland Didot, on the state of the environment. When perfectly healthy Didot dies from an unexplained heart attack, George finds himself in a race to save his own life. Gary Knight: 30-something British detective is confronted with evidence that somebody is able to control the embedded chip now vital for military communications. It’s his job to find the person responsible and bring them to justice. He never thought it would take him to the jungles of Panama, masquerading as a network engineer. Andrea Callaghan: young, hot-headed but supremely intelligent computer specialist who is called upon to give expert advice on chip technology and finds herself part of a covert team to uncover and stop the organisation infiltrating the chip. Tod Carter: RAF Typhoon pilot of supreme capability but with the ghost of ex-action in Macedonia which saw him compromise. He is called in to provide infiltration and exfiltration to Gary and Andrea because of his expert knowledge on a wide range of aircraft. Max Stoller: enigmatic and controlling CEO of Stoller Industries dreams of controlling the world from behind the scenes, using his chip technology to infiltrate the minds of the world’s politicians and military leaders. When they ask him for help he cannot believe his luck. Vladimir Nickolayev: a young Russian gaming and computing expert who is employed by Stoller to increase the ability of the Zeus chip. Supremely arrogant, Nickolayev will take any risk and do anything to steal power from Stoller and take the man’s dream with him. Sven Amundsen: Norwegian born European President who never seems able to make the difficult decision even though he knows what he needs to do. Driven by committee and destined it seems never to achieve the greatness of, say, his US or Russian counterparts. Carl Matthews: the US President forced into office by a scandal which rocked the previous administration. Unsure of his popularity and easily diverted from course Matthews is caretaking until the next elections and appears to be in trouble. Alan d’Amato: Matthews’ Italo-American vice-President who lusts for the power of office and seeks to usurp his commander-in-chief. d’Amato has a strong sense of duty to his country first and will do anything to ensure that America stands against the rest of the world and comes out on top. Lieutenant Benjamin Foley: heads up a crack US Marines unit designed to work behind enemy lines and wreak havoc. Captain Kate Mallory: SAS officer sent to the USA to extract George Aspen so he can give evidence at the Cairo Summit. Appeal: Operation Thunderhead is a fast paced thriller with multiple relationships that ranges across the planet. It gives the reader causes to explore as well as think about while having enough pace to encourage page turning. There are multiple threads and storylines which keep the reader guessing while not making it too hard to read and follow. In the style of 24 the action keeps the reader wanting to turn the next page in case they miss any action. And the end isn’t necessarily what you think it is.
About the Author
Clive was born in Sheffield, England in 1960 and adopted the same year. One of two children, he grew up in a family where reading was encouraged and he developed a penchant for the science fiction of Asimov, Simak, Dick and Silverberg among others. By the late seventies, an interest in aircraft had morphed into an attraction to the Cold War and espionage and in particular the works of Craig Thomas and Tom Clancy. Trained as Chartered Surveyor, Clive has worked in a number of different environments from sales to IT through to his current role as strategy manager for a drug and alcohol action team in the Midlands where he develops strategies for communities and individuals blighted by drugs and alcohol misuse. He has always been fascinated by people and what motivates them to do certain things, take specific decisions. Writing started in 1992 as a means of relaxing and getting away from the stress and hassle of every day work. He has written a number of short stories and “Operation Thunderhead” is his first published novel. He is currently working on his second, “Red Mist: Dragon Rising” which combines the war in Afghanistan, the war against drugs and the emerging Chinese political scene with personal actions of revenge, love and sacrifice. He has four other works planned. Clive lives in Rushden, a small rural town in the county of Northamptonshire where he has lived for 22 years. He has four children: Daniel, 30; Laura, 24; Lucy, 20 and Emily, 17. He also has two cats: Joshua and Tango.