entered. They wore business suits, but instead of briefcases they hefted a green wooden crate between them. It was over five feet long but narrow, not more than two feet wide and deep. They placed it on the floor next to the two men from Yemen.
Saleh said, “I give you one of the most lethal portable air defense systems ever made. The Igla-S portable antiaircraft missile complex, or Igla-S PAAMC. Igla is a Russian word that means ‘needle.’”
Al-Amriki knew all about the Igla, but he allowed Saleh to make his sales pitch.
“The weapon has a three- to four-kilometer vertical range, and it possesses high jamming immunity due to its impeccable infrared target-acquisition system. It has a contact and a proximity fuse, and a powerful warhead. It is small enough that one could, with some difficulty, carry two on his back, or a half dozen of the launchers along with missiles and power sources in the average two-door hatchback.”
The AQ men knelt over the weapon and scanned the markings and the serial number, even the writing on the wooden case. Doyle found what he was looking for immediately, the shipping label. The consignee was the Central Organization of Industry and Purchase in Libya, and the airport of destination was the Tripoli International Airport. Inscribed also on the case was 2006. Box 88 of 243 . He’d been told by al Qaeda spies with contacts in the Libyan Defense community to look for these markings. If Saleh were trying to peddle counterfeit weapons, he would not necessarily know to replicate the authentic shipping labels and crate stamps.
After a minute of handling the weapon—the missile was not seated in the launch tube and the power source was not attached, so there was no chance of an accidental discharge in the well-appointed living room—the two men from AQAP sat back down in their chairs and faced Aref Saleh. The Libyan could see that the mood had lightened perceptibly. These terrorist commanders were, at the end of the day, just stupid boys, Aref determined after witnessing their reverence when running their fingers over the weapon system.
“So,” he said. “Do you have any questions I can answer?”
The one called Haroom said, “I will need some proof that they work as advertised.”
“Proof?” asked Saleh with genuine confusion. “I think you just need to check the lot numbers against the missing—”
“I believe they are authentic Libyan arms. Of that I have no doubt. But you have told us they are easy to operate. Is this true? I mean to say, can a quickly trained operator fire one as easily as you say he can?”
“Of course. The instructions are barely two pages in length.”
Doyle shrugged, said, “I want to fire one. At an aircraft.”
Saleh waved his hand in the air. “That is ridiculous.”
Doyle then said, “I will purchase one launcher. You will help us find a suitable location to fire it. A suitable target. If this test goes well, we will buy sixty missiles from you.”
“ Sixty? ” Saleh said it in disbelief. This was four times the number he had hoped for.
“That is correct.”
The Libyan thought the man was toying with him. “I don’t have time for games. You were vetted by my people as a legitimate representative of your organization, so I agreed to meet with you, but I will now ask you to please leave.”
“We will pay four hundred thousand dollars each for sixty weapons.”
The Libyan cocked his head, tried to read the man across the table. Finally he said softly, “You are serious.”
David Doyle leaned forward. “Contingent on the successful test-firing of one weapon against a commercial aircraft.”
Saleh said, as much to himself as to his customers, “Twenty-four million dollars.”
Haroom corrected him. “We will pay for the test SAM, as well. So, twenty-four million four hundred thousand.”
“I see,” said Saleh, his voice registering his amazement. “I think this can be arranged with some effort and research.”
For a chance
Saleh said, “I give you one of the most lethal portable air defense systems ever made. The Igla-S portable antiaircraft missile complex, or Igla-S PAAMC. Igla is a Russian word that means ‘needle.’”
Al-Amriki knew all about the Igla, but he allowed Saleh to make his sales pitch.
“The weapon has a three- to four-kilometer vertical range, and it possesses high jamming immunity due to its impeccable infrared target-acquisition system. It has a contact and a proximity fuse, and a powerful warhead. It is small enough that one could, with some difficulty, carry two on his back, or a half dozen of the launchers along with missiles and power sources in the average two-door hatchback.”
The AQ men knelt over the weapon and scanned the markings and the serial number, even the writing on the wooden case. Doyle found what he was looking for immediately, the shipping label. The consignee was the Central Organization of Industry and Purchase in Libya, and the airport of destination was the Tripoli International Airport. Inscribed also on the case was 2006. Box 88 of 243 . He’d been told by al Qaeda spies with contacts in the Libyan Defense community to look for these markings. If Saleh were trying to peddle counterfeit weapons, he would not necessarily know to replicate the authentic shipping labels and crate stamps.
After a minute of handling the weapon—the missile was not seated in the launch tube and the power source was not attached, so there was no chance of an accidental discharge in the well-appointed living room—the two men from AQAP sat back down in their chairs and faced Aref Saleh. The Libyan could see that the mood had lightened perceptibly. These terrorist commanders were, at the end of the day, just stupid boys, Aref determined after witnessing their reverence when running their fingers over the weapon system.
“So,” he said. “Do you have any questions I can answer?”
The one called Haroom said, “I will need some proof that they work as advertised.”
“Proof?” asked Saleh with genuine confusion. “I think you just need to check the lot numbers against the missing—”
“I believe they are authentic Libyan arms. Of that I have no doubt. But you have told us they are easy to operate. Is this true? I mean to say, can a quickly trained operator fire one as easily as you say he can?”
“Of course. The instructions are barely two pages in length.”
Doyle shrugged, said, “I want to fire one. At an aircraft.”
Saleh waved his hand in the air. “That is ridiculous.”
Doyle then said, “I will purchase one launcher. You will help us find a suitable location to fire it. A suitable target. If this test goes well, we will buy sixty missiles from you.”
“ Sixty? ” Saleh said it in disbelief. This was four times the number he had hoped for.
“That is correct.”
The Libyan thought the man was toying with him. “I don’t have time for games. You were vetted by my people as a legitimate representative of your organization, so I agreed to meet with you, but I will now ask you to please leave.”
“We will pay four hundred thousand dollars each for sixty weapons.”
The Libyan cocked his head, tried to read the man across the table. Finally he said softly, “You are serious.”
David Doyle leaned forward. “Contingent on the successful test-firing of one weapon against a commercial aircraft.”
Saleh said, as much to himself as to his customers, “Twenty-four million dollars.”
Haroom corrected him. “We will pay for the test SAM, as well. So, twenty-four million four hundred thousand.”
“I see,” said Saleh, his voice registering his amazement. “I think this can be arranged with some effort and research.”
For a chance
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