SEAL Team Six Hunt the Scorpion(70)

In March 2004, IAEA officials assisted Libyan authorities in the removal of weapons-grade highly enriched uranium that had been stored at the Tajoura center. About thirteen kilograms of fissile uranium-235 was airlifted from Tripoli to Dimitrovgrad in the Russian Federation, where it was later blended down into low-enriched uranium (LEU). (Roughly that amount of uranium-235 was required to make one atomic weapon.) The fuel removal project had been funded by the U.S. Department of Energy and had cost approximately $700,000.

Since then the Tajoura Nuclear Research Center had been used strictly for developing a nuclear power infrastructure for electricity production, seawater desalination, and the creation of medical isotopes. In September 2008 IAEA director general Mohamed ElBaradei announced that because of Libya’s cooperation, the Tajoura center would be subject only to routine inspections. The last one had taken place in December 2009, and Libya was found to be in full compliance.

“What do you think, boss?”

Crocker didn’t answer. He had heard only about half of what Akil had read, but it was enough to make their discovery of UF6 in Sebha even more troubling. He remembered that John Lasher had called it “a smoking gun.”

The SEALs were stopped at the Tajoura center’s gate by a guard in an olive uniform who directed them to the main research facility, a three-story concrete-and-glass structure. The big red, green, white, and yellow abstract mural decorating the front featured palm trees on one end and minarets and missiles on the other.

“An interesting juxtaposition,” Mancini said as they climbed the steps to the lobby.

There they were greeted by an attractive young woman in a long dress and black headscarf. “Welcome,” she said in unaccented English. “My name is Assa. Director General Dr. Salehi will see you in his office.”

Upstairs, Dr. Saleem Salehi greeted them warmly. He was a slight man of medium height, with dyed black thinning hair and a mustache. On the walls behind him Crocker saw a large map of Libya and framed photos of landscapes and of Albert Einstein holding a white cat. On his large desk lay an open brochure for the new Audi A8 sedan, a car that Crocker knew cost in the vicinity of $80,000.

After the Americans had taken seats on a sofa and stuffed chairs in one corner, the director general’s secretary served coffee, tea, and cookies on a large silver tray.

Salehi said, “I started my higher education at Penn State. That’s when Coach Joe Paterno was still a god. I knew nothing about American football. I grew up in a town outside of Tripoli, playing what you call soccer. I remember the first football game I attended. It was fantastic—the marching band, the cheerleaders, all the pageantry. I was enthralled.”

Crocker pointed to Mancini, seated to his right. “My colleague, Mr. Mancini, played college football.”

“I’m impressed,” the director general said. “It’s a very violent game. I think it takes great courage and skill.”

“You’ve got to be a little crazy. I’m more of a climber, paddler, and cyclist myself,” Crocker added.

Salehi said, “One of the things Libyans admire about Americans is their energy. You know—the physical fitness, the striving to be the best. Libyans love sports as well. But Colonel Gaddafi did not allow any sports stars to gain prominence because he feared they would draw the national spotlight away from him.”

“An egomaniac,” Akil muttered.

“Did you know that soccer stars could only be identified in newspapers and on TV by their numbers?”

It was hard for Crocker to sit there and be polite. He said, “I never knew that.”

“So many things are changing now.”

“For the better?” Akil asked.

“In the long run for the better. Yes.”

He was a charming man, but Crocker detected some sort of hidden resentment around his mouth and in his eyes.

Crocker asked, “How long have you been the director general?”

“Here at Tajoura, three years,” Salehi answered. “I was recently asked to stay on by the interim government, but since the center is more or less closed, there is very little for me to do.”

“Oh.”

“I’m almost never paid, which is also a problem.”

Mancini: “I thought the NTC had plenty of money from oil revenues.”

Salehi shrugged. “I don’t know the reason. They’re very disorganized. Sometimes I don’t even know who to ask.”

“Are you planning to stay?” Crocker asked.

He pointed to several photographs on his desk. “It’s a question I ask myself every day. My wife and daughter went to Malta during the fighting. They like it there and don’t want to return.”