The instant the elevator doors opened, Robert dashed to his room. He quickly made sure that the real Dr. Rashid was still unconscious before he changed disguises. In record time, Robert was out of his room and began walking down the hallway. The two guards hurried past a quiet and modestly veiled Muslim woman on their way to Robert’s room. The woman then took the elevator down to the lobby and walked outside in full view of many guards from the complex who had come to make sure Robert didn’t get out alive. The woman then got into Dr. Rashid’s unguarded car and sped away.

Robert began discarding his female disguise as he thought about where those coordinates were-out in the desert. He would need to acquire a more suitable vehicle-and that would mean extra trouble. He would have to put his Dr. Rashid disguise back on for what he had in mind.

Robert sped through the city and ditched his car as close to the nearest military base as he could. Robert knew that Dr. Rashid was a military scientist, and his ID would give him access to the base, but not much else. He managed to get on base with no problems. In no time, he located a jeep with a nearby soldier. Robert, pretending to be the scientist he was supposed to be, struck up an idle conversation with the soldier then sucker punched him and stole his sub-machine gun, keys and jeep. Now, it was time for the escape.

Robert was speeding through the desert in a stolen Iranian jeep-it was approaching sunset. His superiors were in such a hurry to get him out that they blew his cover. At the moment, five military jeeps were chasing him. Robert reflexively ducked his head as bullets whizzed past, impacting against the windshield. He turned back, quickly aimed the sub-machine gun that he had "borrowed" from the jeep’s previous owner and fired. Bullets riddled the front tires of one of the jeeps, forcing it to stop its pursuit. He hoped all of this rush was worth it. At any rate, he was nearing the designated area.

Suddenly, Robert’s jeep jerked out of control as gunfire blew out its back tires. Fighting the machine for every inch of control it would allow, Robert braked to a stop before quickly jumping out of the vehicle and running; the designated area was just over the next sand dune. He could barely hear a whisper-thin, droning whine through the stiff breeze.

The Iranians were congratulating each other. One man on foot would be no match for four jeeps. They gunned their engines and plowed boldly over the dune-only to find themselves staring down the barrel of a rather sizable gun. The gun protruded from the back of a large four-engine cargo plane. It looked almost exactly like a C-130, except the nearly invisible aircraft was black and had no markings. The four engines roared to life, kicking up a cloud of dust, as fire spat from the large gun barrel and a hail of sniper bullets rained from the slowly closing cargo area. All it left in its wake was four smoking hulls.

Robert was duly impressed. During his entire career in the CIA, they had never transported him using the unofficial Black Air Force. Evidently, his new mission was not only worth the rush, but it also undoubtedly concerned the highest levels of the U.S. government-maybe even the president himself. Robert also noted the presence of five Israeli commandos- all with sniper rifles- which suggested the cooperation of Israel’s government. A man stepped out of the cockpit into the cargo hold and greeted Robert. It was his friend, Ravi.

"Ravi!" Robert exclaimed loudly over the considerable engine noise. "What’s going on?"

"Big trouble, my friend," Ravi replied with a somber look, bracing himself as the aircraft sharply maneuvered. "Have you ever heard of a Muslim terrorist group called the Chosen of Allah?"

One of the aircraft crewmembers motioned for the two to sit down and strap in. Someone else asked for Robert’s disks. "Once or twice," Robert answered, fastening his seatbelt and handing over the data.

"Even other Muslim terrorist groups consider these particular terrorists to be sacrilegious and extreme. But, they’re really just small potatos."

"Not anymore," Ravi said. "They have finally done something to be worthy of America’s attention. They have acquired a thermonuclear missile."

The shock showed plainly on Robert’s face. Ravi continued, "Three days ago, a Ukrainian thermonuclear missile was stolen. We think the Russian Mafia was involved. Yesterday, U.S. intelligence discovered that the Chosen of Allah had ended up with the device. It is your mission to delay the launch of this missile and, if possible, to disarm, disable, or otherwise destroy it."

"Delay?" Robert asked. "What will that accomplish?"

"A team of Delta Force commandos is being assembled, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow night," Ravi answered. "So, if you can just delay their launch, they will be able to mop up."

"Okay," Robert said, nodding thoughtfully. "Go ahead and brief me."

Ravi began the briefing, "As you probably already know, the Chosen of Allah are mildly primitive. They mainly operate out of a subterranean complex built under the Pakistani side of the Great Indian Desert, which currently lacks the capacity to launch the missile. The Chosen are busy converting an area inside the underground base into a launch bay. Intelligence indicates that they intend to launch the missile at Harhoma the moment it’s ready. That’s why they’re here," Ravi told him, indicating the silent group of commandos.

"That makes sense," Robert interjected. "Harhoma, the Jewish West Bank settlement, is the main point of contention for the Chosen. They don’t even care that they will wipe out Jerusalem in the process even though it’s the third holiest site for Muslims."

Ravi nodded in agreement. "I have some blueprints of their base to show you."

Ravi produced a detailed drawing of the underground terrorist base. Robert paid special attention to all of the important areas: computer control, power, ventilation and such. "We already have one agent on the inside. His name is Amir, and he’ll be here in the control room," Ravi said, indicating a place on the blueprints. "He has been operating as a technician with them for some time, but he doesn’t have the kind of clearance to sabotage their operations. This is where you come in. You will be dropped right on top of the north face of the entrance, which means that you will be approaching it dead on."

"You will be giving me a parachute, right?" Robert asked with a smile.

Ravi returned the smile and said, "Of course. Now, put these on."

Figuring it would be safe to stand for a while, Ravi handed him some special black clothing designed specifically for covert operations. The two of them stood from their seats. As Robert changed out of his Iranian scientist’s clothing and into his new clothes, Ravi said, "You may have noticed the large domed structure in the middle of the base. Since it is the largest room and comes the closest to the surface, I think it is the most likely area to convert into a launch bay."

Robert agreed with that assessment. After he finished putting his new clothing on, Ravi directed him to a little table that had been secured in the corner. "I assume you have no equipment on you?" Ravi asked.

"You assume correctly," Robert answered.

"These are communications scramblers. They will jam all radio signals within sixty feet," Ravi said as he handed him two squat, disc-like objects.

Robert’s black body suit came with a compartmentalized belt. Robert found a place to put those useful little things in. Ravi then gave him a desert-camouflaged tarp, which needed no explanation. As Robert put that away, Ravi handed him a 9mm handgun and commented, "Your favorite-with a silencer and fifteen-bullet magazine. And," he added, "here’s a second magazine. Sorry we couldn’t get you more ammo."