146: Chapter 143 Countermeasures

November 15, 1981, Baghdad.

Saddam Hussein was looking at a report of failure.

The "desert star" did not appear. On November 15th, all incoming vessels at the port were logged, and not a single one bore that name.

Hassan Rajab stood in the office, waiting for Saddam Hussein's reaction.

"What about the informant?" Saddam Hussein asked.

"The informant said that was the information he received," Hassan Rajab said. "He doesn't know why the ship didn't arrive."

"He doesn't know?" Saddam Hussein's voice was cold. "An informant doesn't know why the information he provided was wrong?"

"Yes," Hassan Rajab said.

Saddam Hussein paced back and forth in the office.

"There are two possibilities," he said. "First, the informant was discovered by the Iranians, and they are using false information to confuse us. Second, the informant himself is an Iranian mole who has been feeding us false information all along."

"There is also a third possibility," Hassan Rajab said. "The ship's arrival time was delayed."

"Delayed?" Saddam Hussein looked at him. "For what reason would an import of fifty tons of anti-aircraft missile components be delayed!?"

Hassan Rajab did not answer.

"I believe it's the first or second," Saddam Hussein said. "Whichever it is, it means there's a problem with our intelligence system."

He stopped and looked at Hassan Rajab.

"Investigate Karim," he said. "Check his bank accounts, check his family, check everything about him. I want to know if he's really working for us or if he's been working for Iran all along."

"Yes—" Hassan Rajab said.

"Also," Saddam Hussein said, "tell Abdul Hamid not to leave Basra. I want him to continue monitoring Karim and see what Karim does next."

Hassan Rajab went out.

Saddam Hussein sat in his office, looking out at Baghdad through the window.

He now realized that Iran was playing a very clever game.

Iran was not just engaging in military confrontation; they were also conducting information warfare.

Iran was trying to sabotage Iraq's intelligence system and force Iraqi decision-makers into making wrong judgments.

This was a very dangerous opponent.

Basra, Karim's home.

Karim had sat at home for three days without going to work.

He told Karims wife he was sick, but in reality, he was afraid.

He knew the Iraqis were watching him; he knew he might have been exposed.

On the fourth day, Farouk arrived.

When Farouk entered, Karims wife was in the kitchen, and the two children were playing in the courtyard.

"You need to leave Basra," Farouk said. "Tonight."

"Where to?" Karim asked.

"Iran," Farouk said. "We've already made arrangements for you. Someone will come to pick you up at eight tonight and take you to a safe place."

"What about my family!?"

"They will follow," Farouk said. "But not tonight. Once you're safe, we will send them over."

Karim's face changed.

"You mean I have to be separated from my family?"

"Temporarily," Farouk said. "It's to protect them. If the Iraqis know you've fled, they'll seize your family to threaten you. But if your family stays here and acts normally, the Iraqis won't suspect you've run away."

Karim fell silent.

He knew Farouk was right.

But he also knew that once he fled, he could never come back. His job, his house, his life—all of it would vanish.

"And if I don't run?" he asked.

"Then the Iraqis will arrest you," Farouk said. "They will interrogate you and find out you work for Iran. Then they will kill you, and they will kill your family too."

Karim closed his eyes.

"Fine," he said. "I'll run."

Farouk nodded.

"Pack some things," he said, "but not too much. Don't let your wife suspect anything. At eight tonight, someone will come for you."

Farouk left.

Karim sat on the sofa, looking out at Basra through the window.

He wondered what would happen to his wife.

Would she hate him? Would she understand him?

Or would she never know why her husband suddenly disappeared?

Ahvaz, Reza's office.

Reza was looking at Karim's report.

Karim had fled. He left home at eight in the evening and was picked up by an Iranian agent. Now he was on Iranian soil.

"How are the Iraqis reacting?" Reza asked.

"They are still monitoring Karim's home," Karimi said. "They don't know yet that Karim has fled."

"Keep them in the dark," Reza said. "For at least a week."

"How?"

"Let Karims wife continue her life," Reza said. "Let her keep going to the market, keep sending the children to school, keep acting like a woman whose husband is still around. The Iraqis will see all this and assume Karim is still in Basra."

"And then?"

"Then," Reza said, "a week later, Karims wife will receive news that her husband died in a workplace accident. She will start crying, start packing, and prepare to flee Basra. The Iraqis will see all this and believe Karim is truly dead."

"In that case, the Iraqis won't pursue Karim," Karimi said.

"Exactly," Reza said. "Moreover, the Iraqis will begin to doubt their entire intelligence system. They'll ask themselves how an informant they thought was reliable could suddenly die. Did the Iranians kill him? Or was he an Iranian mole all along!?"

It was a perfect ruse, using Karim's escape to further undermine Iraqi trust.

"Where is Karim now!?" Reza asked.

"In Tehran," Karimi said. "We gave him a new identity and a new job. He's a translator now."

"Good," Reza said. "Let him rest for a while. Once the Iraqis' suspicion fades, we might have use for him again."

Karimi went out.

Reza sat in his office and wrote a line in his notebook:

"The highest realm of information warfare is not making the enemy believe false information, but making the enemy believe no information at all.

Once the enemy falls into this state, they become blind and incompetent."

The desert south of Kermanshah, the same day.

The chip had arrived.

An American-made high-performance microprocessor had finally reached Fatima's hands through a complex smuggling channel.

This chip was the key to the Persian-4 Missile project.

Without it, the missile's seeker could not achieve the required processing speed. With it, the missile could undergo final integration testing.

In the laboratory, Fatima carefully installed the chip onto the seeker's circuit board.

It was delicate work, requiring extreme focus and technical skill.

One wrong solder, one wrong connection, could lead to the failure of the entire project.

But Fatima's hands were steady. She had worked in this field for ten years and knew exactly how every detail should be handled.

Two hours later, the chip was successfully installed.

Fatima turned on the power and watched the data stream on the screen.

The chip's processing speed was even faster than expected.

This meant the seeker's response latency would be shorter and the tracking precision higher.

"We can proceed with the final integration test," she said to Hassan.

"When?" Hassan asked.

"Tomorrow," Fatima said. "I need one night to perform the final checks and calibration."

"Alright," Hassan said. "I'll notify Reza."

Hassan picked up the radio and sent a message to Reza: Chip installed, final integration test tomorrow.

Reza's reply came quickly: If successful, when can it be put into use!?

Hassan looked at Fatima.

Fatima thought for a moment and said, "If tomorrow's test is successful, we need two weeks for production and quality checks.

Two weeks later, the first batch of Persian-4 Missiles can be put into use."

Hassan sent this information to Reza.

Reza's reply was: Good. We need usable missiles before mid-December.

Hassan looked at the message, then at Fatima.

"Mid-December," he said. "One month left."

"We can do it," Fatima said.

But there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Because she knew that the final integration test was the most dangerous.

In this test, all systems would be integrated, and all potential problems could be exposed.

If any issues arose, she wouldn't have the time to fix them.