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Broken Lands
Boaz Klachkin
Copyright © 2019 Boaz Klachkin
All rights reserved; No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author.
Contact: [email protected]
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter One
It was a month ago that I called Jezabilah and notified her of our successful mission. That week, throughout the Middle East, there was a stormy forecast from a political and a meteorological focal point. The clouds, dense with the dust from multiple explosions in Israel and Palestine, loomed over the area with a threatening darkness. The blood of victims and some not-so-innocent terrorists stained the streets and promenades in various Israeli and Palestinian venues. This had become the atmosphere in the daily lives of those who challenged death and the ideologies of their enemies. Everywhere in the world, there was fear and alarm about the likelihood of terror attacks. Millions of refugees, wishing for a hopeful future, poured into Europe to escape the onslaught of the Syrian regime and the spread of brutality at the hands of the radical Islamists State. Among them were those who captured the moment as an opportunity to spread their ideology and culture and to eventually dominate the areas where they would live.
Living in the shadow of death by the hand of radical Islamic extremists was a common discomfort in all of Palestine, especially for dissenting Palestinians who were brave enough to speak out against their corrupt leaders. One could see Hamas sharpshooters at the perimeters of the market on the rooftops in Gaza City. These guards were not lining up Israeli soldiers as their targets; on the contrary, they were searching for Palestinian counter-revolutionaries who were looking to topple Hamas and the Fattah regimes. Nevertheless, Gaza City was alive with the sounds of traffic and commerce as thousands of Palestinians were shopping and going about their daily routines.
Jezabilah Abdi, a slender woman with attractive features, stood outside on the terrace of her modest apartment near the center of town. Her building along with many others in her neighborhood were rundown due to the lack of maintenance over many decades. These conditions were the standard for most of the homes and buildings in various areas in Gaza and the West Bank. Some of their façades were laden with bullet holes, the result of armed struggles between radical factions trying to overcome one another in order to tap into the money that was pouring in from the EU, besides the bundles of cash from the sale of illegal drugs and arms.
The frequency of internal violence and hatred had risen even more than in the past. Even though Palestine had become recognized as a state, it still sponsored terrorism against the Jewish state of Israel.
Jezabilah turned and entered her living room when she heard that the news broadcast had
begun. She anxiously sat on the couch and leaned back, trying to relax. As always, the coverage dealt with reports about the constant local turmoil in and around the Middle East. In the latest international news, there was a special report from the USA about some massive Native American demonstrations in Arizona and Nevada. The footage showed demonstrators yelling and carrying signs reflecting on the abuses and inequalities suffered by the indigenous peoples of the Americas for hundreds of years. This particular event had been sparked by the actions taken by the US government who had taken over sacred Navajo and Apache lands for the purpose of drilling for oil and gas. Next, was a report about the major story of the week, which touched on the unsuccessful Iranian missile attacks against Israel the week before. That event completely altered the political complexion of the Middle East and the rest of the surrounding nations. The majority of the devastation came from Iran’s own missiles as they exploded just hundreds of meters above Iranian airspace. The satellite-guided lasers that were mounted on the Israeli Defense satellites detonated the Iranian missiles upon takeoff. As a further retaliation, Israeli bombers flew missions over Iran and destroyed any of the remaining stockpile. The result of Israel’s devastating counter-attack changed the face of the Iranian countryside forever.
People all over the world sat in awe as they watched the footage showing a nation decapitated of its Jihad mentality and its terrorist-based ideologies. The Israeli missiles and bombs crippled Iran’s airstrike capabilities and erased almost all of its fighter jets. Many of the designated targets had been on the Israeli Military’s checklist for many years, which included pinpoint hits on all the nuclear reactors. Iran’s nuclear weapons program was now totally erased for many decades to come. The country was a total mess, and the people were screaming for a change in policy and to work closely with the international community.
Jezabilah was focused on watching the broadcast when suddenly her cell phone rang, sounding the familiar ring setting that she favored. She leaned over to get the phone and pressed TALK. She held the phone to her ear, shifting her gleaming, dark brown hair aside.
“Jezabilah, the operation has been completed and all the funds are immediately accessible.” My message, generated through a special encrypting device in her cellular phone, was the sweetest combination of words she had ever received. Her face glowed with delight. The goals of our operation were quite simple: get control of the governing bodies, create a true peace with Palestine’s neighbors, develop a strong economy and get rid of the poverty that was so wide-spread.
“Thank God!” she cried out in muted jubilation. “I thought I’d never see this day come.” I was so pleased to hear Jezabilah’s excitement in knowing that the corrupt criminal elements that had been running the government in Gaza and the West Bank would no longer have access to the millions of dollars which had supported their political agendas, and the production of facades for qualifying their legitimacy.
Jezabilah was overwhelmed with excitement at hearing the good news. She smiled with a feeling of relief. Her eyes were open wide and gleaming as she smiled. She had to subdue her joy, however, since recruits of Force 17 and Hamas police were parading the streets just below. They were always looking for radicals in opposition of the status quo, and the last thing she needed was an evening of interrogations and harassment.
There was deadly aggression taken against anyone verbalizing any pro-Israeli rhetoric, regardless of the fact that Palestine was now a recognized nation. The Hamas made sure that the public’s sentiment focused on the destruction of the Jewish state, the result of which generated the daily acts of terror. The general conditions all over the Palestinian nation were now in even worse shape than before its independence.
“There were some accounts and safety deposit boxes that we couldn’t break into, nonetheless, most of the money we planned on gett
ing is in our possession. I will contact you later on. Bye for now, and stay cool!” The line went dead, but every cell in Jezabilah’s body was alive with fervor. She was ecstatic to hear that the mission was a success.
We, at the Organization, were quite aware of the financial support that had been coming into Palestine from the EU nations, Qatar, and Iran. We also knew that much of the money was being diverted to private bank accounts in Panama and Switzerland. The remaining funds were then used for government salaries, and for funding various terrorist groups and the expansion of their arsenals. Even though the peace agreements to recognize Israel’s right to exist (with stipulations of a curfew on arms expansion and coordinated defense of the border) had been signed, there had been continued attempts by Jihadists to infiltrate the Israeli borders from the West Bank and Gaza. There were no attempts to improve the quality of care provided by the health and social services departments. The daily agenda was focused on corruption and maintaining the level of dominance for the regime’s operatives everywhere in the territories.
Inkasar, by definition, means ‘breaking apart’ - which is exactly what its members wanted to achieve. They wanted to get rid of the corruption and those who were using their power to keep them from improving their lives. For decades, the Israelis secretly recruited scouts and informants, and now, initiating new recruits has become an easy venture.
Jezabilah suddenly became beset by heartbreaking memories as she looked with anguish at a picture of her late husband Hasan. The picture hung in the center of the living-room wall and was surrounded by family pictures of her late father and grandfather. Next to them were pictures of her brother and sister who were killed by crossfire during a clash between factions of Hamas and Fattah earlier on in the century. Now Jezabilah was all alone with only a few supportive friends that cared for her, especially because of her predicament.
Just months before, Hasan’s blood had been splattered on that same wall. Their home was raided by members of Hamas militia because Hasan had been accused of collaborating with the Israeli Intelligence Organization. They broke into the apartment yelling their accusations and vulgarities and pushed her husband against the wall with deadly force. In a burst of gun fire, they emptied their automatic rifles into his body. Before they left her apartment, as Hasan lay dying in a pool of blood, they spit at him, kicked and butted his head viciously with their rifles.
She was distressed by the sad memories of that day when she returned to the apartment to find her husband Hasan’s lifeless body in a pool of blood near the back wall. She had begun moaning at the sight of the bullet holes and the blood that had splattered all over the place. She had screamed in anguish and ran outside yelling and cursing, spewing hatred and disdain against those who had carried out such a brutal act. She was in shock and uncontrollably agitated as she ran from door to door along the street , banging her fists on doors and windows, screeching agonizingly and acting in a completely wild manner. Her hands and clothes were stained with blood, and people who saw her were horrified by the look on her face and her behavior.
Zara, one of her friends in the neighborhood, ran over to her and hugged her closely, trying to make her stop. “Jezabilah, Jezabilah, stop, stop it. Try to calm down. The area is swarming with Hamas guards,” Zara whispered in her ear, as she continued to hug her. “Those brutes have been going door to door all day. They will kill you. Please, Jezabilah, lower your voice or they will surely be back to inflict more carnage.”
Zara held her tightly, trying to reduce Jezabilah’s torment and rage. The crowd was stunned as they watched her frantic behavior and agitation. Her moaning was now silenced by the buzz from the people that had gathered around her. Zara took her to a local medical clinic where one of their friends worked. The doctors there gave her a sedative and when she calmed down, Jezabilah told them what had transpired. They immediately made arrangement to have her husband’s body removed from the apartment.
Ever since then, all Jezabilah could think about was visualizing herself exacting retribution for the loss of her family members. “My dear man,” she said contemplating Hasan’s picture, “now I shall begin my journey of avenging your murder and the murder of my close family.”
Hasan had been a simple tailor; whose successful trade was part of a family enterprise for many generations, going back to his grandfather’s shop in Nazareth. The people in the neighborhood missed him dearly. He had been one of the best tailors in the city and was respected by all.
She knew that from that day on, her life’s momentum would be fueled by the rage that swelled in her soul. She felt a surge of adrenaline as her mind reflected the events of her life. She was alone, yet filled with a fresh source of energetic fervor. She would let no one stop her from her quest - to free her people of the evil hold of their leaders, whose brutality and oppression was now clearly expose.
After she had mourned her loss, Jezabilah had come to grips with the idea that she would have to pave a new path for her life. When her close friends came over, they spoke about how the true face of the Palestinian leadership was being widely exposed. She cautiously spent some time inquiring about the Inkasar movement, contacting people that she knew and trusted, attempting to reach out and connect. Finally, after some intense verifying and qualifying of her status and background, some operatives from the Inkasar underground movement made themselves available to her. Everyone who was joining Inkasar was confident that their support for Inkasar’s operations would bring an end to the threats that were being made against the public which demanded change. They all wanted a fresh direction for their future; especially for their children who were being brainwashed by the education system, even at the pre-school level.
The noise coming from the street got Jezabilah’s attention as it became louder. She stepped outside onto her terrace and saw a convoy of government vehicles approaching in the distance. Each vehicle was flanked by guards wearing black uniforms and wielding automatic rifles. Some of them were shooting bullets into the air and yelling obscenities at the horrified bystanders. To placate the government officials’ usual dissatisfaction with the predominantly subdued and non-supportive assembly of Gazans, Hamas had ordered the people to line up along the street as an entourage, to show their support for the government officials riding in the motorcade.
“Get the hell out of the way,” yelled Sahib, the motorcycle rider leading the group of guards, whose job it was to clear the path for the motorcade. “Go to work, you low-life monkey, so we can collect our taxes,” he called out to one of the young men, wielding a threatening fist in the direction of his face. “Your miserable face is the last thing I need to get me through the day. Go pray to Allah, maybe he’ll help you.”
Sahib showed his for those around him by constantly yelling vulgarities. He was known to all in the area as a brutal savage who had murdered many who stood in his way. No one dared to counter or confront him for his conduct. There were many who wished that he would suffer in hell for his malice.
The crowd standing on either side of the parading troops appeared frozen - like characters straight out of a Balthus painting; apparently alive, yet lifeless in spirit. The distress they were feeling was expressed by their horror-filled eyes. As soon as the convoy was out of sight, the people calmly returned to their daily routines, quietly sharing their discontent with the way these government officials behaved. Jezabilah walked back inside, shaking her head, her face showing the bitterness and disdain she had for these brutal savages. She hated them and all those who presented themselves as the saviors of Palestine for so long.
After sitting back down on her couch, she scanned through the TV channels and chose the Israeli channel. She watched a clip showing the Israeli ambassador being interviewed by some international reporters outside on the United Nations plaza. “The attack on Iran was a defensive act,” he declared assertively, “and it should be emphasized that it was Iran’s own missiles, primarily launched to attack Israel, wh
ich caused their demise. Let this be a warning to any nation that intends to use force against our nation. We may be a small nation, but our resolve and perseverance are unmatched.”
These were hard times for all the members of the UN, especially for the Security Council representatives whose opinions were being questioned around the clock. All in all, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Israeli response was justified and strictly defensive in nature. This eventuality brought about a new age for Iran, and its population knew that this was an opportune time for the control of their nation to be put in the hands of politicians whose rule and laws were based on democratic principles.
With no money at hand, the PA and Hamas were scrambling for support for additional funds. I had been working on my Organization’s protocols and drilling my soldiers for alternative operations in preparation for the many covert missions we have on the drawing board. My men were at the peak of their abilities but worn-out completely both physically and mentally after a week of rigorous training and the laying of groundwork for the specific project at hand. Our line of work was out of the ordinary and dangerous, yet it came with as many benefits as it did hardships and pressure.
Right before any particular missions, our operatives always got some quality rest periods for rejuvenation and reconditioning. We used different venues that had facilities and accommodations for such a purpose. This time we were in Aqaba, Jordan at the Palms Resort Hotel just across the border from Eilat, Israel’s southernmost city. The magnificent view of the Red Sea and the Edomite Mountains which spanned its eastern shore presented a tranquil setting for some well-deserved days of rest. This hotel was a highly-rated venue due to the fantastic accommodations and services it provided for its patrons. The Organization often used this venue as a leisure-filled meeting point for some of its preliminary briefings, mainly because none of us would be recognized. The matter of securing our identities was another reason for being in places where no one would recognize any of us. Israel and Jordan maintain a strong political and economic partnership, and all that remained for us was a general summation in the upcoming meeting.
Broken Lands Page 1
