Chapter Eight
Ever since Inkasar began to knock out and disable the political power grid of the PA and Hamas, Israelis were feeling less fear and apprehension. The knifings and shootings sponsored by the Jihadist Movement on the internet were became less frequent. The Islamic Brotherhood attempted to regain support by spreading lies to the public. They wanted to enrage the Arab population and bring back the level of hate against the Israelis by fabrications and creating false scenarios. In one northern Israeli Arab town, a mosque was burnt to the ground. On the main exterior wall of the mosque, demeaning slogans had been sprayed in Hebrew. Immediately after the event there were cries of vengeance by the local Arabs and many Arabs who demonstrated as far away as London and Paris. However, an intense investigation took place; which included interviews of eyewitnesses, and an assessment of live footage from the hidden cameras in the area. The truth came out and the new reported it as a case of arson, done at the hands of local Arab youth gangs. The accused were apprehended with the help of some truly honest Arab residents in the town. There were many locals who wanted to maintain a peaceful coexistence. They flourished successfully before Hamas and the Jihadists took control of their region. Those involved in the destruction of the Mosque were deviously hoping that the scenario would be seen as a hate crime, just like previous numerous attempts by other radical Jihad perpetrators who wished to spread hatred and despise among the Israeli-Arab population. They wanted to create havoc, but in many cases, their plans backfired and showed the ugly side of their demented, futile cause. Very few Jihadists were willing to admit that Arabs living in Israel had more rights and social benefits than those living in any Arab nation in the world. The foundation for freedom and justice was a platform enjoyed by every citizen of Israel, regardless of race creed, or color. The fact that some Arabs preferred crime and terror was to their own detriment. Unfortunately, many Israelis working in the agriculture sector were on constant alert for Arab gangs who would break into their lands and steal produce, cattle and sheep. It was clear to all of us in the military that there was a lot of work ahead for us in maintaining a high level of security in all parts of Israel, especially on the borders. Jezabilah and I were constantly getting briefed on the unfolding events, especially on the reactions by the international community.
Later that week, we received distressing news. There had been an attack on one of our border patrol units. that resulted in the deaths of eleven of our soldiers, one of whom was Wadad Taher. I was compelled to call Jezabilah and notify her of the unfortunate event. I went into my office and shut my eyes for a moment recalling how lively and funny Wadad was when we spent evenings together with the guys at one of the many local bars we preferred in Tel-Aviv.
I was devastated by the news. I took a deep breath before I picked up my cell phone to contact her; using the special codes and passwords for that week. The line was live, and after a few seconds, Jezabilah answered.
“Yair. Hi. Good to hear from you. I guess you wanted to congratulate us for today’s successful missions.”
“Yes, but besides that,” I said with a quivering voice, “I have some sad news.”
“What happened, Yair?”
“We are all very upset here at the Organization. Wadad, one of the young operators who was with us on the mission to rescue you, was killed today.”
She gasped in response, “Oh my God, Yair! How terrible!”
“He was shot by Hezbollah snipers during an attack on our soldiers. Rather than taking time off to relax, he had volunteered to join some Druze army recruits from his hometown. They were just fresh out of basic-training and he wanted to provide some support during their first routine patrol near the Lebanese border. There were 11 dead Israeli soldiers in all; five were picked off as moving targets and Wadad was one of them. The others died as a result of a massive roadside bomb which was detonated close to the border fence just as their patrol vehicle came to that point.”
She began to cry. “I am so upset, Yair. My whole body is shaking. What a horrible event, I am so sorry.” Her voice projected the pain and sorrow she was feeling.
Wadad had been a pivotal figure as a fighter in my tactical group in the Organization. Both, Wadad’s father Halil and his older brother Fawzi had served in the Israeli army for many years.
That afternoon, Uzi, Salem, Amir and I travelled north to pay our respects to the Taher family. When we arrived, there were people there from all faiths and different backgrounds. Most were family members and friends, including some soldiers who had been close to Wadad during their tour-of-duty. Agonized by their loss, the Taher women were crying. Their sorrow was clearly evidenced by their facial expressions. Comforting words were stated all around, glorifying Wadad for his wonderful achievements and for being such a model human being. My mind was suddenly locked on a thought: Had we all been on some mission elsewhere; it would have changed Wadad’s fate.
I approached Halil after everyone had had a chance to convey their condolences. I smiled subtly and addressed him. “I am very honored to meet you, sir. Wadad and I were very close, as you know and he always told me about your time in the army and about some the missions you were part of. It is truly a heart-breaking situation. You and your Druze community have been well respected by the Jewish leaders from beginnings of the Zionist movement and as far back as its founding days. This is a reflection of our strength and unification, even during hard times like these.”
“Yes, Yair. There have been many men from our Druze community who have worked hand-in-hand with you, our Israeli neighbors. For over 95 years we have supported and believed whole-heartedly in the cause of the Jews. Many of those who fought side-by-side are still around today to share their experience with the youth.”
“Today,” said Halil, “we are even more filled with resolve and honor, living honorably within the Israeli society and enjoying our Druze culture peacefully.”
Halil taught his family to admire the Israelis for being strong and determined, and for having regained their homeland so justifiably after thousands of years of persecution.
Colonel Arnon Levi, Wadad’s commanding officer from basic training, approached Halil and Fawzi and expressed his sorrow. “I am so sorry for your loss. The pride Wadad shared in serving in the army exemplified the strength and resolve of the Druze community. He was such an amiable person and a devoted soldier.” Halil fervently nodded his head in total agreement. “I will always remember him,” Levi continued looking admiringly at Halil. “If there is anything you or anyone else in your family need, please don’t hesitate to ask. We will always be there for you,” he said in a gentle tone.
The local Police Commissioner stood centered in front of the family members. His facial expression was filled with gloom. “On behalf of our department, let me convey our deepest sympathies to you all,” he stated solemnly. “As I speak, we have undercover police officers who are scanning the area and to make arrests. We will find the culprits that provided the information to the Hezbollah terrorists who were behind the shootings as well. We are all doing the best we can. You can be assured that we will utilize all our resources in getting the job done. You have been recognized as a heroic family by every law-abiding citizen in Israel. You deserve, and will get, the full cooperation from our department.” The emotions of the moment stirred another round of cries by some of the women, who had been listening to the consoling words.
The eyes of many at the Taher home were in filled with tears. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, so I stepped out of the room out of courtesy and answered the call. I approached Fawzi, and put my hand on his shoulder. “There is someone who wishes to speak to you,” and handed the phone to him. He took the phone and put it to his ear.
“Hello, Fawzi. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your brother. My deepest sympathies to you and yours,” said the caller.
“Who is this, please?” he asked. “I don’t recognize your voice.”
“Thank you, Jezabilah. I am grateful to you for your kind words.”
“I was quite weak when we rode in the jeep on the way back after the rescue, and couldn’t convey my thanks appropriately. There aren’t enough words to express my sorrow. Be strong and go on with your life. I will surely, always remember your brother.”
“Thank you, Jezabilah. I truly appreciate it. Yair has told me so much about your family. Be strong and be well. You are a great person. I wish you all the success in the world and I hope we can meet one day under better terms.”
“Many blessings for peace, my friend,” Jezabilah remarked, finishing with a sigh.
“I promise you that I will do my best at continuing on strongly. My level of motivation has gone up quite a few notches. Peace be with you, Jezabilah, and keep up the great work. We are all behind you.” He smiled as he handed the phone back to me.
The full moon with its reddish hue added to the solemn mood, as some of visitors began leaving the Taher residence. An eerie, looming feeling of sorrow had overcome everyone’s spirit, but Fawzi seemed charged up and anxious while he bid everyone his farewell.
“Yair. I am planning to go after the radicals that were behind Wadad’s death. When the forensics report arrived, it had been determined that some of the shooting actually did originate from the Israeli side.”
This reminded me of the collaborator who helped abduct our friends years back. Unfortunately, there have always been such people involved in spying for the enemy. Most of the time, our organization had a bead on such individuals, but once in a while these operators were able to escape our scrutiny and succeeded in alluding us.
“I guarantee that we will provide you with all the support that you might need.” I stated firmly. “This will drastically change the complexion of the investigation and we will surely widen our perspective and bring in more suspects for interrogation.”
I reached out to shake Fawzi’s hand, but he pulled me in closer to his body and gave me a big man hug. “Be well, Yair, and thank you for caring so much.” I returned the affection with comforting pats on his back. Uzi, Salem and Amir had already exchanged some words with Fawzi and minutes later we departed. As we travelled southbound, all I could think about was the rescue mission that we all took part in and how much Wadad will be missed by so many people. We were very fortunate to save Jezabilah and I was extremely lucky to have someone with whom to share my love.
Chapter Nine
The Taher family and some of their friends had begun conducting their own investigation and prepared for an operation. Mourning the death of their brother was one thing, but getting revenge for their loss was another. Time was an important element in any situation. Their intent was to go undercover and blend in with the predominantly Arab population in Acre in order to get first-hand information from within the community. As always, those who committed crimes of violence against Israelis were quite boastful about their actions and relished the rewards of gaining honor and praise from their relatives and close friends. Fawzi’s friends arranged the first steps and planted themselves in various venues around Acre. They got leads about some members of a gang that divulged pertinent information to Hezbollah, Hamas and many branches of the Islamic Brotherhood. In addition, there was talk about some of them having carried out the sniper attacks done in conjunction with the Hezbollah attack. Fawzi received digital photos of these gang members as soon as they had been spotted and identified. This was exactly the situation that Fawzi was hoping for. However, they didn’t share any of this information with the police. Fawzi’s idea about justice in this case did not align with the formalities of the present-day sentencing. The first thing Fawzi wanted for these murderers was to see them dead, not being alive in some prison, able to enjoy regular meals, taking in sunshine, walking in open air, or even getting college degrees in the interim. He had seen terrorists brought to justice after having killed dozens of people in bombings or shootings, and later released and sent home as part of prisoner exchanges between Israel and Hamas or Hezbollah. Rather than serve their multiple life sentences, they walked free. Their quest for domination over lands, monies and the manipulation of all the classes precluded democracy and basic human rights.
Fawzi was anxious to get rolling and prepared all the necessary accessories for their operation to pursue those who were involved in Wadad’s murder. He made some calls as he sat drinking his spiced coffee. Death was the only forecast he wanted to hear about for these gang members. Just the thought of these people breathing and going about freely disgusted him. ‘You bastards are going down!’ he thought to himself. “Call Daniel and tell him to get the other cars ready,” he stated firmly. “We are going in tonight. I want to be on the scene before those bastards start thinking about planning and committing some other violent attacks.”
Daniel, a tall, young man, was one of the family’s close friends from Haifa. Daniel had served in the Israeli army with Wadad during their mandatory tour of duty. They continued their friendship even when Wadad became a commissioned officer while Daniel continued his studies in computer sciences. Daniel had seen to it that Wadad got the respect he deserved when he was first recruited. They had hit it off immediately as friends during basic training, one helping the other, watching out for one another during routine patrols. On many occasions, when other soldiers spewed out derogatory remarks about Wadad’s ethnicity, Daniel put them in their spot and criticized them harshly for having spoken so.
The sun had set over the ancient city of Acre, a city which had a history stained with the blood of its ancestral residents and numerous conquerors. The streetlamps came on as night was approaching. Fawzi and his friends drove into the main area of Acre. They parked their vehicles near the main entrance ramp of the highway leading to Haifa. The men took out the backpacks they had brought along. These were loaded with small sacks, each with a set of clothing and various tools. The weapons that they carried were readied with silencers, and the extra supplementary tools like stun and tranquilizer guns had been well placed, inconspicuously under their loose garments.
The information that Fawzi had sent to the Organization was confirmed. It reported that there had been dissident Israeli Arabs spotted at some specific cafes and restaurants. I told Fawzi that we would provide visual support with our IsraEyes system and would synchronize their movements with our headquarters. We all hoped that they would succeed in locating the gang members which Fawzi’s friends Aaron and Fayez had shadowed the night before.
“Let’s start with Anan’s Cafe. It is just down the road on the right. Do you see that green crescent marquis? “asked Fawzi.
“Yeah, I see it now. Let’s do it.” said Daniel with resolve.
“Daniel, you stay outside and keep a look out for any suspicious looking bastards or the local Police. I don’t want to spend half the day at the Police Station explaining why we took the law into our own hands.”
“Fine! Don’t worry, my friend. Don’t hesitate to use the nerve gas canisters if you feel you made the target,” inserted Daniel.
“Okay! Have your masks ready to pop. We are GO!” called out Aaron.
Fayez and Aaron entered the cafe with their weapons ready under their jackets. A quick scan was all they needed. Their well-trained eyes could identify a desired subject in microseconds. They had studied the photos that they provided to Fawzi’s the day before. The images were sharply embedded in their minds.
“Subjects are negative,” said Aaron.
“Okay, Aaron, let’s move on to the next venue,” Fayez replied.
Suddenly, the calm in the street was shattered by automatic gun fire coming from a red Toyota Corolla speeding up the street. Daniel dove under one of the cars that flanked the entrance as glass went flying in all directions. Fayez and
Aaron returned fire as they ran outside, shooting at the car as it faded into the distance.
“Udi! Red Cactus calling in a bandit,” Fawzi spoke alarmingly into his cell phone. “Red Cactus calling in a bandit. Do you read me Udi?” he repeated his urgent call into his cell phone, using the protocol codes.
“Loud and clear,” answered Udi enthusiastically.
“We already have a satellite lock on the car,” said Erez, who was sitting at his IsraEyes controls inputting the coordinates into the system.
. “They are heading southeast on Route 85. Listen, Fawzi! For your own good, get yourselves out of there as soon as possible. We’ll let you know what is going down; over and out.” declared Erez insistently.
Just as Erez spoke, an air-to-ground missile fired from an F-18 assault jet, by order of the Organization. It bore down on the red Toyota that was transporting the assailants on their escape route out of Acre. One minute there was raucous laughter coming from the car, and the next – Bam! – the car exploded. All that remained of the car was a noxious, metallic, dark red cloud consisting of the scorched flesh of dead terrorists.
Meanwhile in Acre, Daniel continued scanning the area and spotted some men running out of the adjacent cafe. He recognized them as being from one of the radical gangs. He called Fayez to join him and started chasing them down an alleyway. He lost sight of them, but could hear a door slam from the direction of the dead end. It was the last door on the right side of the alley. Daniel and Fayez turned on their motion sensors and picked up on some movement within the back of the building. It sounded like footsteps going up a stairwell, and likely destined for the rooftop. Daniel called in the location and responded with his support team by reaching a rooftop near the building he had specified. They marked their targets and effectively took out both men. Fawzi felt gratifying sense of fulfillment. He was thankful for having such good friends that were willing to go out of their way to be so supportive. Those terrorists had caused so much bitterness in the lives of the relatives and friends of those who died in that deadly ambush.
Broken Lands Page 10
