The Mark of the Rebel

by B K Thomas

  ***

  Highway 20, Syria

  They’re half an hour from Damascus when they have to slow the vehicle. There is a surprise checkpoint ahead and traffic has stalled. It takes another hour to get to the guards. The General is surprised to see a Russian flag flying on a vehicle parked where the travelers are being halted. He knows that the Russians have been helping out, but he didn’t realize they have so many resources on the ground. The General surveys the area. The number of Russian soldiers and equipment make him wonder if there is a Russian base nearby. As they approach the checkpoint a big square-jawed action figure looking soldier with a Russian flag patch on his arm stops their vehicle. He is accompanied by a Syrian soldier. It is clear neither one speaks the other’s language, so they speak broken English to communicate between them. The Syrian soldier accompanying the Russian asks the group for identification. Everyone inside the vehicle pulls out their identification. The Russian soldier takes the ID’s and hands them to his Syrian counterpart. The Syrian looks over the documents then orders everyone out of the vehicle. The General’s eyes light up with the prospect of being separated from his captors. It’s the chance he’s been looking for. He hopes he will be separated for questioning. The soldier does just that, he separates everyone. A Syrian officer accompanies him and starts asking the questions. It is the standard line, “Where are you from? Where are you going? What are you going to do there? How long do you plan to stay? Who are you staying with”? As the questioning rambles on, the General turns to the Russian.

  “Allo, comrade.” The General greets him in Russian.

  The Russian soldier’s face lights up. The Russian greets him back and asks how he is doing. The General answers and begins to talk in Russian with the soldier. He is about to ask to see the commanding officer when Mashal, who is close by, dips into the conversation from the side.

  “Allo, comrade,” Mashal says in Russian with very little accent but a big smile. He makes his way around the General and extends his hand to the Russian. The soldier takes his right hand off the AK-47 that hangs across his body by the strap. He shakes Mashal’s hand as he grows even more excited about the exchange. “My friend and I want to get through to Damascus. We have business there. We had to leave our families behind. You can imagine we want to finish our business so we can get home to them.” Mashal announces enthusiastically as he continues to speak in Russian. “Isn’t that right comrade?” Mashal asks the General who knows he is caught.

  “Oh?” His delight grows with another person speaking his native language. “Where did you learn Russian?” The soldier asks turning to Mashal. The Syrian separating Mashal from the others comes over and stands silently next to him deferring to the Russian conversation.

  Mashal deduced the situation skillfully expecting the Russians are in charge so he ignores the Syrian. He puts his arm around the General and starts again, “We both served in the military and have worked with Russians. Now, we’re in business together.” Mashal smiles at the General. “The traffic at this checkpoint has put us behind schedule. We have an appointment in the city, how much longer do you think we’ll be delayed?”

  “Are they in order?” The Russian curtly asks the Syrian officer accompanying him.

  “Yes, they can continue on.” The Syrian says handing their documents back, flustered by the interruption and intimidated by the Russian.

  Mashal tells the soldier they are happy to have met him and he and the General return to the vehicle.

  The Russian calls out to them, “Do svidanya” with a wave.

  Mashal waves goodbye to the soldier and the General’s heart sinks.

  “That was smart General,” Mashal observes aloud. “But you couldn’t have expected I would know Russian too, could you?” He asks with a devious smile. He has worked hard to plan for everything but didn’t expect this detour which made this turn of events even more delightful.

  “No, it seems you are a man of many surprises.” The General confirms.

  Mashal holds the General’s gaze a moment longer then looks away to the road ahead. “We are very close General. You still have the chance to make your life mean something. That episode is disappointing but at the same time I would expect no less from a survivor like you.” Mashal looks back at the General. “You have been given this extra time to make the right choice. I hope you do, for your sake and for your family’s.”

  The General sits in silence. He had felt a spark of hope at the possibility of sending some sort of message or maybe even escape. He’s missed the opportunity but not by much. Now time is running shorter and shorter, there aren’t many opportunities left. Mashal did continue to surprise him. He knows Mashal is smart, but he’s more educated than the General had guessed. The General laughs at himself. What did he think the Russians would do for him anyway? If they believed him, then maybe, they would try to buy some influence in Iraq by returning him. More likely, they would hand him over to the Syrians who will assume his false identification papers mean more than he said they did, and they would torture him while his family was killed in Iraq. There will have to be a miracle to save him and his family. The problem is that he is not a man of much faith.

  The rest of the drive to the safe house in southwest Damascus is uneventful. The General learns the scientist Zamir had taken a different route when they separated at the apartment in Deir ez-Zur and would join them again later. Mashal is on the brink of the objective and the General’s time has run out. His options are more limited than ever. Mashal is at the table drinking tea when the General sits down across from him.

  “So, what is your plan, now we are in Damascus?” The General goads.

  “You have decided we are friends now General?” Mashal teases. “We are friends and I will confide my plans in you now?”

  The General smiles. “Well, I thought, now we’re here you might have a plan you want to discuss?”

  Mashal smiles about the situation, “Yes General, as a matter of fact, I will want to discuss it. This is not the time, tonight we celebrate our arrival and rest up after the hard travel. The right opportunity will present itself and when it does, we must be ready.”

  The General grabs a fig from the bowl on the table. He is tired. It has been a long time since he has been under operational stress. He thought he was done with this type of stress in his life when the president was thrown out of power after the Americans invaded. Things had calmed down since Iraq installed a new government. Life had not become easy but the constant paranoia of the president or the president’s children becoming displeased with him and executing him, and his entire family had become something he could finally stop thinking about. There was a great deal of relief when all of that was behind him. But now, here he is again, trying hard not to get himself and his family killed for a misstep. He suddenly feels even more tired. The tension on this trip has continued to grow with each mile. Constantly on alert and looking for a way to escape while playing cat and mouse with Mashal has worn on him. The near misses on the road and the constant worry about his family have taken their toll and he needs to recharge.

  “Very well, I will go find a place to rest and get ready for tomorrow.” The General states and rises to find a room.

  Mashal calls out to one of the local men to provide the General with a room. The room is empty except for a cot. The General searches the room for something to write a note with or to write on but finds neither. He lays down on the cot and stares at the ceiling for a moment. He starts turning things over in his mind to determine if there is a way to leave a message or signal someone, but the weight of the trip presses upon him till he slips into a deep sleep.

  “Wake up!” Mashal exclaims as he shakes the general.

  The General is disoriented and throws his arms up in self-defense. Adrenaline shoots through his body at the abrupt interruption. “What? What is the meaning of this?”

  “They are bombing Damascus; we are going right now!” Mashal exclaims.

  Chapter 23


  ASG, Jordan

  The US Army intelligence night shift leader sent a soldier to wake up Major Westbrook. The Sergeant smacks the door a few times causing it to rattle. He makes sure it is loud enough to wake the Major up. The Major opens the door to his room blinking as the hallway light blinds him.

  “Sir, we’ve got some chatter. Looks like Damascus had some large explosions. No details on who or what just yet.” He briefs him.

  This gets the Major’s attention. “What?” He wipes his face and tries to shield his eyes, so he can see better. “What kind of explosions?” He demands without hesitation.

  “We don’t have much of detail yet sir. Just some initial reports of explosions. Possibly an airstrike or something on the ground. Looks like they’re just outside of Damascus maybe, southwest is what one report is saying.”

  “Wait, what time is it?” The Major asks without looking at the watch on his wrist.

  “It’s two twenty-five, sir.” The Sergeant replies.

  “How long ago were the explosions?” The Major begins to get his bearings.

  “From what we can tell they happened around one thirty give or take.” The Sergeant informs him.

  Major Westbrook slaps his hand on the door frame causing it to rattle again. “I knew it! That better not be our boys from Iraq.” He steps back absorbing the news. If the General is connected with the explosions, it only raises more questions. The Major’s mind jumps on the possibility of finding the General and his companions. His excitement grows. He knows the hunt is back on and this time, with him in the driver’s seat.

  “Roger that sir.” The soldier gives the Major a moment to gather his thoughts then continues. “I’ll get back now sir and I’ll let you know if we find out anything else.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting dressed and I’ll be over in a few minutes. I’ll put on some coffee, the good stuff and we’ll see what we can get!” The Major says flipping the light on in his room.

  ***

  Fayez Mansour, Damascus, Syria

  Mashal informs the General as they race to the airport, they will improvise an emergency removal of the Uranium due to the unexpected explosions. The chaos surrounding the explosions is the perfect cover for the operation. With the explosions, Mashal is concerned Assad might begin to move the materials to another location and they might slip from his grasp. His original plan was to pull off the theft of the material differently, but this is better than he could have hoped for. Mashal is not going to take any chances now, his dream is on the line.

  “General”, Mashal says getting the General’s attention. “I know you have still been deciding how to best escape or foil this mission but let me remind you.” He hands his phone to the General. The General’s heart sinks. The screen shows his son sitting in the room next to two hooded men. Hanging from the ceiling behind them are chains. The General hands the phone back to Mashal and looks at him without revealing the depth of emotion the reminder stirred up.

  “If there is any hesitation in you tonight, he dies a slow, painful death and your women will never be the same. Your family will serve the cause if you don’t.” Mashal promises.

  The General nods. His face is resolute. “I have heard you Mashal. I will give you my best tonight as you agreed to spare them.”

  Mashal studies his face and smiles. “Yes General. I believe you will.”

  They race through the darkness. The few checkpoints along the way have been abandoned. They can see fires raging in the distance as they drive to the airport. The trucks slow down as they approach a gate. He has not accounted for an event like this. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows the chaos is a perfect time. In the distance, he can see the flames and smoke in the light of the flames. Soldiers are scrambling around, and all the attention is on the burning buildings. As they drive up to the gate, they can see the soldiers at the gate aren’t really watching the road. They are distracted by the fire and the recurring explosions across the field behind them. An arms depot cache is on fire and keeps firing off rounds in the distance making it a deadly place. Explosions happen randomly as they drive up to the airport making it a dangerous place. At the same time, if you didn’t know better it looks like it could be a celebration of some sort after the initial large explosions. Everyone in sight keeps ducking every time an explosive goes off. Mashal smiles. He could not have asked for a better opportunity. He chambers a round in his AK-47 and sits it down with the barrel facing the floorboard. He bangs on the cab to let the men in the back know it is time.

  The group is divided between three trucks and two cars. All were stolen and hidden throughout the city in preparation for this moment. He has gathered fifteen soldiers over the weeks leading up to the kidnapping. He has been preparing for this for years and now it is time. His confidence soars with his goal so close. They pull up to the gate and three men from the first car jumps out and shoot the guards without any alarm being sent out. They take the entrance over as other men pile out of the trucks to secure the perimeter. Mashal calls for the General to come with him.

  “Okay General. It’s your time. Where do we go from here?” Mashal asks as he motions the General to come with him and get in lead car.

  The General knows where he is even in the dark. He spent a great deal of time at this airport and other locations when they transported materials from Iraq to Syria. He had to make sure he knew where everything was so when the war with the United States was over Saddam would be able to get them back. That day never came. He was relieved he would never see them again, but here he is. He is going to see them one last time after all.

  “Take the road to the left going southwest.” The General orders. “We’ll drive alongside the runway to where it turns. At the turn is a bunker. If they haven’t moved the material, that is where we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

  Mashal smiles broadly. “Yes, we will indeed! Let’s go.” He urges the driver on.

  The men who had dispatched the guards open the gate for the group. As they sped through the gate the General saw the men dragging the dead soldiers, who had been guarding the gate, off into the darkness to hide them. They won’t be found until the group is gone the General imagines. The driver in the first car with Mashal and the General heads into the base and turns left going straight to the underground storage bunker. A few men stay behind to man the gate but the rest load back up into the trucks and car and follow. The men are packed in tight with little room for comfort. Rifles and weapons belts make the seating uncomfortable, but they make do. Fires rage all around the airport as they drive down the left side of the runway. The destruction will keep everyone busy long enough. The continuous explosions will keep many of them from venturing out into the open unless they are ordered to. The timing couldn’t be better.

  The entrance to the underground facility is unimpressive. The Israelis had destroyed a nuclear facility years before, so the Syrians have worked to keep the environment clean with a low profile and draw as little attention as possible. The guards that work inside the bunker keep the entrance closed normally. For the moment though, they have the main door open and are watching the fireworks across the airfield. The General grimaces and shakes his head at the lack of discipline and knows their fate is sealed. The guards stand outside the entrance laughing and pointing in awe of the destruction they are witnessing. Their attention is fixated on a large explosion across the field as Mashal and his group arrive. Mashal walks up to the closest guard who finally notices him. The guard’s expression changes from glee to concern as he snaps to attention and gives a salute. The Military Security Directorate uniform Mashal wears inspires fear into those not associated with the Directorate. The rank of Colonel is enough to demand attention without causing undue suspicion. Mashal returns the salute deftly and motions for the soldier to join him.

  “We are on orders to begin securing sensitive materials inside and move them because of the attacks.” Mashal lays out the convincing narrative and hands him an official tran
sfer form.

  “Do you think the bombing is over?” The soldier asks.

  Quick on his feet, Mashal replies. “Yes, we think it is over now and that is why we must begin moving the material before they come back for another strike.”

  “Yes, sir!” The soldier snaps back inspired by the important mission.

  They begin walking toward the building as a few men from the trucks begin to unload.

  “Sir, I just need to confirm with headquarters.” The soldier states following procedure. “Come with me.”