by B K Thomas
Yaqeena stops recording the speech and gasps. “You did it again! You will certainly lead us sister. You have been destined for this.” Yaqeena stares at her sister in admiration.
Sahila looks away and wipes a tear that has formed. She looks frail once again. “I do not know. I don’t feel much like a leader but when I start speaking about these things, I can feel a fire rise up inside of me that is from deep within my soul. I cannot do anything about it.” She sighs. “I must continue on.” She states matter of factly and smiles meekly at Yaqeena.
They walk in silence for a while then on the way back to the house they stop at a café. The owner greets them and brings tea. He is a family friend and is excited to see them. Familiar faces are not as common since the war broke out and he cherishes times when they can catch up. He brings some small pastries for them to snack on. They eat the snacks and sip the tea while they catch up on family news. Yaqeena posts the latest video while Sahila chats with the owner and they enjoy the comfort of familiar surroundings. Immediately, reactions start to flood in from across the world voicing support. People ask where they can send donations in order to help support the movement. The people of the world have heard her voice and are ready to stand beside her.
Chapter 8
Al Qaim, Iraq
“Brother!” Mashal calls out as he enters the room, waking the General.
The General fell asleep on the couch while he waited for Mashal to return. He slipped into a fitful sleep till he was suddenly awakened. He feels more tired now than he was before he fell asleep. He rubs his eyes and sits up to see Mashal accompanied by a slightly older man balding man. He has the look of an educated man. A man that has probably studied for a number of years and lived a life inside of buildings reading books. The General notes the serious look on the man’s face and realizes another piece of the puzzle has fallen into place for his captor.
“I have good news,” Mashal announces beaming with pride. “Our brother has joined us and now we take the next step, into Syria!” Mashal is the only one smiling at the news but he is not concerned with their lack of enthusiasm. He has more than enough for them all. He is a man on a mission, and he is getting closer with each passing day.
The General looks at them for a moment then rallies himself. “Hello brother, I am the General Mukhtar.” He stands up and extends his hand to the man.
The man looks uneasy with the situation. “I am Zamir.” The man says awkwardly as he shakes the General’s hand.
The General points toward the table. “Would you like some tea brother?” He asks Zamir. He then looks to Mashal to determine his interest as well.
Zamir stares off somewhere above the General and takes a quick self-inventory then he refocuses on the General. “Yes, I will.” The General notices the man’s body relax a little with the statement then the General turns his attention to Mashal. “Brother Mashal?”
“Yes, that will be good. We have a drive ahead of us so we should enjoy a drink.” Mashal encourages the idea.
The General grabs some cups and the kettle of water that seemed to always be boiling. He grabs the tea leaves and puts them in the cups and adds the hot water. The scent of tea leaves releasing their flavor in the hot water fills the kitchen. They wait for the tea to steep and release its full flavor. When the tea is ready the three of them sit at the table and stir in sugar. The General wants to ask who the man is, but he waits. He knows Mashal will tell him before he has to ask. Mashal is a smart man, but he is eager to prove himself. He has a hubris that assures him that he can do no wrong. One of the flaws of an overly religious man is the blind confidence that can make him do things he doesn’t normally. A cocky belief that he can do no wrong. The General thought Mashal might be susceptible to such an attitude and waits to see. They sip their tea, but everyone remains silent, each in their own thoughts about the road ahead.
The tea is half gone when Mashal addresses the General. “Don’t you want to know more about our brother?”
“Of course, I just thought under the circumstances, it is impolite to press for information” he confesses.
“Yes, you are a disciplined man General. You wait patiently.” Mashal cracks a confident smile. “But it will have to wait for the road ahead. General, you will find a change of clothes on your bed. Please get changed because we will leave here in a short time.” He smiles and turns to Zamir who looks around for an indicator. “Zamir, stay with me while the General changes. We need to speak a little more about the preparations.” Zamir nods in response. The General notices that Zamir has a lack of confidence about him. He looks a little lost in the situation and relieved nothing more is required. The General surmises the man did not live much outside the walls of academia. Zamir has every right to be nervous. He is out of his element and they are on a journey into the bowels of hell. The General wonders if any of them will make it.
The General presses himself away from the table knowing his dismissal has to do with information that he is not supposed to hear. He listens intently as he walks away but Mashal is patient and waits for the General to reach the stairs. The General is out of out of earshot before Mashal starts speaking with Zamir about anything of importance.
The general walks up the stairs and finds new clothes. He starts to dress quickly to get downstairs and see if he might catch some of the conversations but smiles at himself. He will have to be smarter than that to catch this fox Mashal. The General knows he will have his chance, but he doesn’t want to force the issue. If he presses too hard, he knows he might ruin any chance of finding a weakness in the plan.
The General needs to clear his mind. He has been pressing too hard to find a way out of the situation since it all started, and it has left him unable to think clearly. It has been too constant, and he knows better. A soldier must have a clear mind in combat. It is hard to be in the trenches while trying to plan an exit strategy without knowing where you are or who you are surrounded by. He is swept up into a guerrilla war without any context. No map, no who’s who and the constant analysis has left his brain in a fog. He thinks of his son hanging from those chains. He can’t shake the image. He doesn’t think of his wife and daughter and what they might be enduring already. He can’t bear it and he can’t do anything about it. He is helpless for the first time in decades.
He laughs at himself. He feels foolish. He feels like a child being so helpless. The helplessness is hard to comprehend. He is used to ordering men to execute his plans and now he is alone with no one to help him. His family is at risk and he is as helpless as he has ever been. His heart hurts. He isn’t used to such pain. He has forgotten the pain of his youth and the loneliness of leaving his family behind. He has forgotten the horror of war and death and destruction lurking all around. He has suppressed it for so long. It comes upon him out of nowhere. He convulses as the wave of emotion hits him and he almost sobs. He puts his hand over his mouth to stop the cry. He quickly looks around, but no one is there, and he feels relieved. His shoulders feel heavy as the helplessness weighs upon him. The weight causes him to lean forward from the burden. He decides to do something he has not done for decades. He kneels next to the bed and begins to pray. It is strange at first but then the words begin to flow. His heart pours out and his emotions follow. He is still there kneeling when a man interrupts him.
“Brother, Mashal is ready to leave.” He announces as he walks into the room. “Oh, sorry for interrupting brother.” He apologizes awkwardly when he realizes the General has been occupied.
The General looks up and smiles. “No, that is fine. I’m finished.” The General reaches out to the bed next to him and uses it for support as he stands up. He feels lighter. The fog has lifted, and he feels relieved. I should do that more often, maybe. He smiles at his own reluctance. Old habits die hard, especially rebellious ones. He turns to go but catches sight of his uniform laying on the bed. He has taken the time to fold it neatly and put it in a stack at the end of the bed. It deserves much better treatment, but he is ho
nored to have had a chance to wear it for so long. It has taken him a lifetime to earn the right to wear that uniform and he knows he will never wear it again. His heart sinks as he looks at it, but his resolve grows with the thought of all he protected wearing the uniform. The prayer has strengthened him, and he breathes in deeply out of relief. He is still a soldier.
He follows the man out of the room and down the stairs. The brothers are hugging each other and showering each other with blessings for a successful journey and success in their operation. They leave the house in two groups and climb into two SUVs. Zamir and the General are in separate vehicles and the General is sure the seating arrangement is by design.
The vehicles pull away from the building in a group. They make it to the highway quickly and are snaking across the countryside as the General looks around the vehicle. His life has changed so much in recent years but, once again, he finds himself surrounded by men whose only desire is power and the opportunity to use it. He looks through the window in time to see the sunset coloring the clouds in orange and dark blue hues. He doesn’t know the planned route but recognizes the road and the terrain easily enough. The destination is the same regardless of the route. The real concern for him is the next hundred miles. He assumes with the plan Mashal has; they have already made the crossing preparations. But will their contacts hold up or run thin the deeper they travel into Syria. What then? What will they run into that is unexpected that can get him or Mashal killed? What will happen to his family? The questions are countless, and he knows they are a waste of time. He will have to keep Mashal alive and try to escape from him at the same time. He stares at the rising and falling terrain and says another silent prayer for his family.
“General”, Mashal addresses him in the fading daylight.
The General turns to see Mashal’s profile outlined by the glow of the sunset. A flash from the rim of his glasses pokes the General’s eye as the SUV hits a bump in the road. There is no smile on Mashal’s face only a somber, serious look.
“The man who joined us will take what you lead us to and set off a glorious torch in Syria for the world to see. The world will see the Islamic State has come and is not to be trifled with.” He pauses to let the General take in the thought.
“What if what you are looking for is not there anymore?” The General asks cautiously.
“What General?” Mashal smiles. “You think Syria may have moved it out? Come, General, you and I both know Assad is a cruel and worldly man, but he’s no fool. Unlike Saddam, Assad doesn’t have to give them up. He has better allies. He won’t give those weapons up. They are much too valuable. Now, they are the key to his survival.” Mashal says with confidence.
“If it is there, your scientist will not be able to launch it or build a detonation system. We tried for years and were unable to accomplish it. How is one man going to do this? He doesn’t have a lab, the time or the tools to figure it out.” The General argues with some prejudice.
“What the pride and arrogance of faithless men cannot accomplish, the focus and faith of a few can overcome,” Mashal reassures him.
“That sounds like something nice to offer your followers, but I am a practical man.” The General shifts in his seat and leans toward Mashal. “It takes more than words to accomplish such feats. We poured countless hours and millions of dollars into the attempt. We worked with governments like France, Russia, and Germany among others. We bought supplies from them and they eventually blamed us for using the very things they sold us.” The General sits up and throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Can you believe they had the audacity to invade us for it? But in spite of their hypocrisy and games to limit us, we did try.” The General calms a little. “It takes much more than flowery words to make such things work.” The General smiles confidently at his captor. “Your librarian will find books do not translate so easily here in the real world.” The General scoffs then leans back in his seat once again. He folded his arms in the triumph of his discourse.
Mashal’s face cracks a smile and lets the General enjoy his moment. “You will learn too then, General. You will see that your country’s greed to become like the West, missed an opportunity. It was always possible to do what we will do. They just lost sight of their true purpose.”
The General thinks about what Mashal has said as he stares at him in disbelief. The General knows that this man is no fool. He would not have gone through so much trouble already if it isn’t likely that they can pull it off. Sure, the man is motivated by his religion and will do whatever he can to make it happen, but the General knows he must have a realistic plan. He wonders how Mashal can pull it off, and how his people could have missed it.
Chapter 9
ASG, Jordan
“I don’t like it.” Major Westbrook snarls. “We’ve been sitting here for a day now with nothing to show.” He slams his hand down on the table and continues to complain to the Sergeant. “We know they have to be on the road to Raqqa. It’s the only real option if they want to make something happen now.” He states emphatically. “The question is really, where do they go from there?” The Major looks around the room in exasperation. “What are these guys up to? Ask your buddy where those weapons went. If we know where the weapons are or were, we can comb the routes and we’ll find these jihadists along the way.” The Major nods at his conclusion. “We’re going to bag these guys!” The Major finally declares.
The Sergeant smiles. He knows the Major won’t stop until they catch these guys. He knows the Major is worked up right now. The Major always does when he gets on a roll and he is on one now. They have the right information at the right time, and this will be a big one. The news of what they do will probably never see the light of day. The things they did rarely got public attention, but it will get the attention the Major wants. He’ll get the promotion he’s chasing. The Sergeant is keeping close tabs on him. He can see the Major is going to be a big player. The Sergeant is going to make sure he is part of whatever the Major is assigned to. The Major is fast-tracking through the ranks. He barely clears the minimum requirements for promotion and is propelled to the next rank. He was an ROTC graduate with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. He wants to show he is as good as any military academy graduate or Ivy leaguer and better than them when things are on the line. The Sergeant is going to network his way around to make sure wherever the Major lands he does too, this guy is going to be a star.
The Sergeant calls his friend from the CIA on a secure line. They chat about sports and women then the Sergeant gets down to business.
“Hey, so that General we talked about. We think they’re chasing the WMD’s he helped ship out of Iraq, where did they finally land?” The Sergeant asks.
“I don’t remember, give me a minute and I’ll look it up.” His friend offers.
“Yeah, sure. It’ll be a big help.” The Sergeant assures him.
He can hear his friend shift the phone while he types away on the computer. He can hear him mumble and type some more. It isn’t long and he speaks up. “Yeah, so, best information we have is that they were in Aleppo originally, but there were rumors they were moved to Damascus later as the fight heated up. Nothing concrete, but that is the best information I have about it.”
“Alright, makes sense. Assad likes to keep tight control on everything. Especially something like this. He wouldn’t want these weapons out of his sight.” The Sergeant observes.
“True, just remember that is where they were. With this long civil war, we don’t have good intel on these WMD’s. Everything has gotten really muddy. For all we know, they can be in Russia right now.” His friend cautions.
“Ok, I hear you. This will help. We’re pretty confident they don’t know either and they’re going to make a run at it to find out for sure. Thanks, brother, I owe you one.” The Sergeant acknowledges.
“One? You owe me a few more than that. You’re buying drinks next time I see you!” His friend ribs him.
They hang up and
the Sergeant considers the information. It isn’t much concrete data to go on, but it will have to do for now. At least they know where the weapons were at some point. It’s a start. He shakes his head as he thinks about it all. Syria is such a mess it’s a great place for ISIS to try to get their hands on something good. The whole Middle East is a hornet’s nest. The amount of unrest and destabilization in the area makes it ripe for bad guys with a plan. If they let these guys slip it could change everything.
***
Mossad, Tel Aviv, Israel
“Sir, we don’t have them yet, but I have our sources in Syria on high alert. They don’t have any information confirming the activity, but we’ll have them as soon as they hit Syria. They won’t be able to get very far without us knowing.” Sergeant Eli reassures Captain Ben Haim.
“Excellent Sergeant. We’ll need to let the Americans know about the General soon. We want to stay ahead of them a little in this situation, but they’ll know something by now. We can’t delay our information too long or we will hear about it.” Captain Ben Haim states as a reminder for himself as much as the Sergeant.
“Yes sir, I’ll craft a brief statement for your review to send them.” The Sergeant turns and heads back to his desk to write up the brief.
Captain Ben Haim looks at the map that covers the wall behind his desk. It shows every known road in each country in the region. It shows the elevation and terrain. It’s a beautiful map. He loves to stare at it. He has always loved maps but now it is like a big chessboard to him. He likes to imagine moving armies across the board like a war game, but that isn’t his job yet. Maybe one day. For now, he walks over to the country of Iraq and scans the road from Baghdad to Raqqa. They will not be able to hide from his people and he is confident they can intercept them before they reach their goal.
