132: Chapter 129 Jassim's Letter

August 9, 1981, Ahvaz.

The letter was wrapped in three layers of kraft paper. It passed through an unofficial channel on the Iraq-Iran border, changed hands once in Kut, and finally reached a grocery store owner in Ahvaz. The owner handed it to someone who came to buy supplies every week, and that person brought it into the military factory.

Karimi wore gloves while unwrapping the package.

The letter was handwritten in Arabic. The handwriting was somewhat scrawled, but the content was very clear.

Reza read the letter from beginning to end, twice.

Jassim mentioned three things in the letter:

First, he had located one of the transferred batches of Scud Missile launchers—not all of them, just three. They were parked at an abandoned farm about eighty kilometers north of Tikrit. There were tire tracks on the ground, and sentries nearby, with a guard detachment of about twelve to fifteen men.

Second, Saddam Hussein held a secret meeting within the military. The topic was "Strategic assessment after the ceasefire." Five Iraqi corps commanders attended. He couldn't get the complete conclusion, but after the meeting, two people's stance was "advocating for renegotiation," two people's stance was "advocating for waiting for the right moment," and only one person explicitly said "continue fighting."

Third, he needed money. He said his operational funds were running out. Regarding the "price is three times what it was before" that Reza had promised, he hoped to know the specific figure and how to transfer it in the next letter.

Reza placed the letter on the table.

"Eighty kilometers north of Tikrit," he said to Karimi, "What do you think of the credibility of this coordinate?"

"The intelligence Jassim provided before regarding Samarra had a coordinate error within five kilometers. I evaluate the credibility of this one at around seventy percent."

"Where is the other thirty percent of the error margin?"

"He 'obtained this intelligence indirectly' this time; he didn't see it himself."

Reza nodded.

Indirect intelligence meant there was at least one relay step in the middle, and there would be information degradation at every step.

"Are there any missiles loaded on those three launchers?"

"The letter didn't say."

"Photos?"

"None."

Reza turned this piece of intelligence over in his mind a few times. Taken alone, the information was insufficient, but placed within the overall context—Saddam Hussein dispersing the launchers and moving one batch north of Tikrit—it fit his behavioral logic. Tikrit was his hometown, territory controlled by the people he trusted most.

"Second matter," Reza said, "the meeting within Saddam Hussein's military. Five corps commanders, two advocate renegotiation, two advocate waiting, one advocates continuing the fight. How do you interpret this?"

"Those who advocate renegotiation suggest they believe the current ceasefire terms are unfavorable to Iraq and want to change the status quo through diplomatic means. Those who advocate waiting are building up strength, possibly waiting for a specific time node. The one who advocates continuing the fight is a hardliner; Saddam Hussein himself might also hold this position."

"Among the five corps commanders, do you know who is who?"

"I don't know; Jassim didn't mention names."

Reza picked up a pen and drew a simple matrix on paper: Stance × Influence, four squares.

"Settle Jassim's reward," he said, "add twenty percent more than promised. Tell him that for the next letter, I need two things: First, more details on those three launchers in Tikrit, preferably with photos or more precise coordinates. Second, the names of those five corps commanders, or at least their codenames and their respective factional backgrounds."

"Can he get these?"

"I don't know. But tell him I will continue to pay the price; he can judge for himself whether he can do it."

Karimi noted these down but didn't leave immediately.

"There is one more thing," he said.

"Speak."

"Hassan's surveillance team near the southern border of Iraq discovered signs of a shipment of Chemical weapons. It wasn't seen directly, but through informants on the border line—several sealed trucks were heading west. The protective measures were far beyond those for ordinary supplies, and the drivers were wearing special masks."

Reza put down the pen.

"Route?"

"Heading west from the direction of Nasiriyah, destination unknown. If they continue heading west, they might be going to Syria, or they could be redeploying within Iraq."

"Time of confirmation?"

"Last night. But the news passed through two hands; it reached me this morning."

A time lag of over twelve hours—the trucks were long gone from the spot where they were spotted.

Reza noted this information down on paper.

Chemical weapons, moving west.

There are two interpretations. First, after the ceasefire, Saddam Hussein worried that Iran knew the location of the stockpile and moved the Chemical weapons to a safer place. Second, he is moving the Chemical weapons to an attack position, preparing to use them at a certain time node.

"How is the progress on the chemical defense research on Fatima's side?" Reza asked.

"Last week she reported that the test progress for the antidote is normal, the formula is stable, and mass production is waiting for equipment. The equipment order is going through Pakistan's channels, and it hasn't arrived yet."

"Urge them."

"I've already urged them. Pakistan says next month at the earliest."

"Urge them again. I don't care about their production schedule; I care about when the soldiers on the Iran border will have the antidote to use."

Karimi left.

Reza sat by the table for a while, took out a dark blue notebook, and noted down today's two pieces of intelligence with one sentence each:

"Scud Missile, north of Tikrit, three units, coordinates to be verified."

"Chemical weapons, moving west, reason unknown, needs continuous tracking."

Below these two lines, he wrote another sentence:

"A ceasefire is a ceasefire, but he hasn't let go yet."

In the afternoon, Fatima came.

It wasn't Reza who called her; she came on her own, holding a stack of blueprints in her hand.

"Persia-4," she placed the blueprints on the table, "I recalculated the design plan for the seeker, and I discovered a problem."

Reza pulled the blueprints over to look.

"In the original plan," Fatima said, "the processing chip for the seeker is a special model imported from Japan. The entire design relies on the calculation speed of that chip. But if the chip shipment is delayed, or if Japan cuts off the supply one day, our entire design will be rendered useless—we don't have the capability to produce a substitute for that chip ourselves."

"So you want to change the design?"

"I want to create a parallel plan." Fatima flipped to the third page of the blueprints, "This plan uses two chips that can be produced domestically in series to replace that imported chip. The accuracy will drop by twelve percent, but the supply chain will be completely in our own hands."

"The accuracy drops by twelve percent; how much impact will that have on intercepting Scud Missile?"

"The Scud Missile has large target characteristics and a strong signal. The twelve percent accuracy loss won't have much impact on the task of intercepting Scud Missile. But if we need to intercept smaller targets in the future, such as Cruise missile types, there will be obvious problems."