I have returned.
PART VI
Marib,
Yemen
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Bulus ibn al-Darwish, al-Numair, The Panther, wearing the white robes and shiwal of a Bedouin, sat on the dirt floor of a goat herder’s hut situated in a narrow gorge in the highlands south and west of Marib town. The sun was low over the mountains and the hut was in shadow, though a shaft of sunlight came through the doorway.
Sitting around the walls of the stone hut were ten men—his inner council of advisors, and also his most senior aide, Altair, an older man, from the province of Ta’iz where the al-Darwish family originated. In fact, Altair was a distant kinsman, and the old man had known the father of Bulus’s father, and had also known Bulus’s own father as a young man, before he emigrated to America.
Nearby was the camp of The Panther’s jihadists, but he could not go there for this meeting because of the American Predator drones. The drones may have seen the camp—though from the air it appeared to be a Bedouin village of tents and also stone and mud huts. And in fact it once was a Bedouin village, but not any longer, thanks to Sheik Musa, who had given—for a price—this village to the jihadists of Al Qaeda. The Panther did not know if the Americans had become suspicious of the camp, but in any case he had called for a gathering here, in the narrow gorge, which was also not far from The Panther’s maghara, his cave, where he lived alone—except for a woman—and which was known to only a few of his most trusted aides, including Altair.
The Panther addressed his council of advisors, saying, “God is testing us.”
The men nodded.
The Panther had just recently received the news that the ambush on the American convoy had failed—because of the Predator drones firing Hellfire missiles—and many jihadists had been killed and wounded.
He said to his council, “The Americans are operating freely on the sacred soil of Yemen. And they are doing this with the blessing of the government in Sana’a—the corrupt lackeys of the Americans who sell their souls for the American dollar.”
Some of the men made sounds of agreement. But not all.
The Panther continued, “We will avenge these deaths.”
Again, there were only a few signs of agreement among his ten advisors.
Bulus ibn al-Darwish knew that some of these men had been against the attack on the Hunt Oil installation. And for that reason, he had not consulted with them about mounting an ambush on the American Embassy convoy. This was the first they were hearing of it, and they were not pleased.
He had suffered two defeats at the hands of the Americans within days, and he needed someone to blame for these defeats. He also needed a victory.
He reminded his advisors, “Forty of our jihadists are as of this moment on their way to Aden. They will attack the Sheraton Hotel and kill all the Americans there—the spies and the soldiers who are using the hotel as a base on the holy soil of Yemen—and also the Americans from the embassy who have arrived from Sana’a. All of them will die within the next few days.”
A few in his council of advisors nodded, but The Panther was aware that some of them were beginning to doubt him—to doubt that he was blessed by God.
He continued, “And forty jihadists have journeyed to Sana’a and will mount an attack on the American Embassy compound.”
A senior advisor, Jawad, reminded his chief, “This council must approve of the embassy attack and it must also be approved by the Supreme Council.”
The Panther did not reply.
Jawad also reminded his chief, “If the embassy attack is successful, and if our jihadists enter the embassy compound and kill all the Americans—perhaps a hundred who live and work there—this act will have consequences which go beyond these borders.” Jawad also told his chief and the others, “I fear an invasion of American soldiers in our country if these attacks on the embassy and on the hotel in Aden are successful—or even if they are not.” He also reminded his chief, “You recall what happened after the successful attack on the American warship.”
The Panther replied, “Yes, Jawad, I recall.” He told Jawad and everyone, “Men and money flowed to us in abundance.”
“And so did the Americans flow into Yemen in abundance.”
The Panther again did not respond.
Another man on the council said, “We are not ready yet to attack. We must build our forces. We need another year, perhaps.”
The Panther replied, “The more we attack, the more men and money will come to us.”
Altair, sitting at the right hand of The Panther, looked at the advisors in the dim light and he could see their doubt. His young friend, Bulus, he thought, was still glowing in the victory of his bold and successful attack on the American warship, the Cole. But that was over three years ago, and since then Bulus ibn al-Darwish had only small victories against the Sana’a government and no victories against the Americans. The council was willing to wait, but The Panther was not.
Altair knew also that the killing of the nine Belgians and the two Yemenis at the Bilqis ruins had not been celebrated by all jihadists, or by all sympathizers to the cause. True, the Supreme Council of Al Qaeda had approved the attack, but the population of Marib province, including the Bedouin tribes, were not happy that the foreigners had been killed, and many saw it as an act of cowardice, and many in the province had suffered financial loss because the tourists had ceased to come to the ruins.
Altair knew also that if the attacks on the Sheraton Hotel in Aden and on the American Embassy in Sana’a did not result in victory, then his young friend’s leadership would be in jeopardy. Also, perhaps, his life.
The Panther was still addressing his council of advisors, and Altair thought he was saying too much. What more was there to say? What had already happened—the two defeats—spoke for themselves. If his jihadists were successful with their attacks in Aden and Sana’a, that, too, would speak for itself.
In any case, Altair did not believe in The Panther’s strategy of attacking the Americans. The jihadists should be attacking the government forces. If al-Darwish wished to someday live in the presidential palace, as he said, then he needed to defeat the hated government—not the Americans, who were here in small numbers.
He knew also that if the government was not defeated, the corrupt men in Sana’a would give in to American pressure to let the Americans build a military base in Aden, as the British and then the Russians had done. And if that happened, then the Yemeni people would have the Americans with them for a very long time. But al-Darwish could not see that far into the future. He was blinded by the sight of a small number of Americans, and did not see the ones waiting for an excuse to do what they had done in Iraq and Afghanistan. That would be a disaster for Yemen.
Altair leaned toward al-Darwish and whispered, “We have much to do.”
The Panther paused in his address to his council, then said to them, “We will meet again in perhaps one week—after our victories in Aden and Sana’a.”
The Panther stood and his advisors stood also. The advisors left the hut silently, and only a few took their leave with proper expressions of respect.
The Panther and Altair stood alone, and Altair said, “Perhaps you should reconsider these attacks.”
The Panther replied with a question. “How can you live as a Muslim and as a Yemeni while the Americans are on the sacred soil of Yemen?”
Altair replied, “They are here because the government invited them. And they are here because you attack them here.” He advised, “Destroy the government and the Americans will leave.”
“They will not leave unless we kill them here.”
Altair had already had this discussion with al-Darwish, and he had concluded that his young friend was more interested in killing his former countrymen than in a wise strategy to free their country from the corrupt men in Sana’a.
Altair did not want to argue with this man—and if the attacks in Aden and Sana’a failed, he would not need to argue
with him. But he advised, “Hate blinds us to the truth.”
The Panther had no reply.
The Panther’s junior aide Nabeel al-Samad was standing a respectable distance from the open door, and Altair motioned him to enter. Nabeel entered quickly and made proper greetings, kissing the hands of both men.
The Panther remained standing and said to Nabeel, “Tell me and tell Altair what happened with this ambush, and also about your mission in Sana’a to kill the American agents.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nabeel did not wish to make this report, but if he was truthful and direct, it would go better. As he began to describe the ambush, The Panther interrupted and said, “Tell us first about your failed mission in Sana’a.”
Nabeel licked his dry lips, then said, “Yes, sir…” He related his journey by vehicle to Sana’a after The Panther had given him the mission to kill the two Americans who had landed at the airport.
Altair interrupted, “I did not know that. Who are these Americans?”
It was The Panther who explained to Altair about John Corey and his wife, and that these two American agents were on the assassination list of the Supreme Council of Al Qaeda. The Panther explained also that the Americans were marked for death because the man Corey had killed Asad Khalil, The Lion.
Altair nodded and said to Nabeel, “Continue.”
Nabeel was surprised that The Panther had not consulted his most senior and trusted aide on this matter, but he knew why that was so; Altair did not want to provoke the Americans, thinking correctly, perhaps, that the Americans were seeking an excuse to send more forces into Yemen—as happened after the Cole attack. The Panther, however, wanted to kill more Americans.
Nabeel continued, “Friends at the airport informed me that Corey and his wife had left that location in a convoy of three armored vehicles which took them to the American Embassy, where they spent the remainder of the evening.”
Nabeel continued his report, saying that embassy watchers as well as friends in the Sheraton Hotel confirmed that the two Americans had been transported to the hotel in the late morning by a single armored vehicle, and that they had registered there and gone to their rooms.
Nabeel also said, “I arranged for our watchers in Sana’a to keep them under observation, and I also called together four jihadists with myself to assassinate the Americans at the first opportunity.”
The Panther commented, “That opportunity apparently did not present itself.”
Nabeel took a long breath and replied, “It is difficult in Sana’a—”
“Continue.”
“Yes, sir.” Nabeel related what he had heard from the watchers. “The two Americans were later met at the Sheraton Hotel by two American security men from the embassy, with an armored Land Cruiser, and they drove into the city.”
Nabeel then told The Panther and Altair of the movements of these four Americans in Sana’a—the khat souk, the Old City, lunch at Old Sana’a, the shop called Hope in Their Hands, the jambiyah shop, then the drive to Ghumdan Fortress.
The Panther already knew from his sources in the Ghumdan prison that Corey and the security man called Brenner had come to the prison and had spoken to Rahim ibn Hayyam, his jihadist, who had been taken prisoner at the Hunt Oil installation. This was troubling, because if Rahim ibn Hayyam had given information to the Americans, or to the Political Security Organization, then perhaps Rahim ibn Hayyam had revealed that The Panther was in Marib province on the night of the attack. If that were the case, then he, The Panther, could expect more Predator drones and perhaps more government activity, or even the presence of Americans who might come here to find him.
Altair also understood this and said to al-Darwish, “Perhaps you should leave Marib province before the government forces—or the Americans with their drones—come here to find you.”
The Panther did not think Altair should have said that with Nabeel present. In any case, he replied, “It is acceptable for men in our situation to hide, but it is not acceptable to run.” He vowed, “I will remain here.”
Altair responded, “As you wish.” He thought Bulus ibn al-Darwish would be wise to remove himself from this province, but al-Darwish was not wise; he had acquired in his youth the arrogance of the Americans whom he so hated.
Altair also understood that if the prisoner, Rahim ibn Hayyam, had revealed the location of The Panther, he may also have revealed the plans to attack the Sheraton Hotel in Aden—if he knew of these plans. And Hayyam might know from talk in the camp. And Bulus knew this, and yet he had said nothing to the council, and he had not halted the plan to attack the hotel. Truly this attack could end in disaster if the Americans were alerted.
Altair took al-Darwish aside and asked him about this.
The Panther replied, “Even if Hayyam is speaking under torture, he would not know of this plan to attack the Americans in Aden.”
Altair disagreed. “Soldiers in camp talk, my friend.”
The Panther told Altair, “We have many watchers at the Aden hotel, and they report no increase in the security there. No army troops have been dispatched to the hotel.”
Altair thought about this, then said, “The Americans may have chosen not to ask for additional soldiers.” He explained to al-Darwish, “They may be waiting for the attack, and they may welcome it. Just as they did at the Hunt Oil installation—and as they may have also done with the ambush.”
The Panther did not reply.
Altair said to him, “Do you not see? This is how they conduct war. You think you are surprising them, but they are surprising you, Bulus.”
The Panther replied, “That is not true. You will see.”
Altair looked at Bulus ibn al-Darwish. Clearly this man did not have the wisdom or patience of his forefathers. In Yemen, war is a slow thing, a never-ending struggle against the invaders and also against whoever sits in the palace in Sana’a. But al-Darwish, al-Amriki, did not understand how war was done in Yemen. And Altair was not going to tell him again how it was done. He would discover that for himself—and become either a great leader, or a dead man.
Also, Altair knew, this man was dangerous. He killed those who disagreed with him and those who proved him wrong. Altair did not fear The Panther, but perhaps he should.
Altair returned to Nabeel and asked him questions about what he had related, and Nabeel stressed that his watchers had been thorough, and that they kept in contact by cell phone with friends who watched outside the embassy, and friends in the Sheraton Hotel. Even the proprietor at the Old Sana’a restaurant had called an assigned telephone number to report the presence of the Americans.
The Panther nodded in approval. He had gone to great lengths to build a telephone network of friends in each town and city in Yemen. These friends, who asked only a few rials for their trouble, numbered in the hundreds, and most of them, he thought, did not know or care whom they were reporting to when they called the telephone number assigned to them. Some of them would be surprised to learn it was Al Qaeda who wanted this information about the movements of the Americans and British, and also other Westerners—but most understood who was paying them. There were so few Westerners in this small country that they could be tracked by only a few hundred friends. The Panther believed that his network of informants was even larger than that of the PSO, who in any case were more interested in Yemeni political opponents than in Westerners.
Also, The Panther knew, the number of Westerners who came to Yemen for tourism, business, and aid work was smaller each year as the security situation became worse for them. And this was the purpose of his attack on the Belgians. Soon, he thought, the number of Westerners in Yemen would be reduced to the embassy staffs—and also the American spies and military men in Aden.
Nabeel was now speaking of the embassy party on the Sunday night. Two of the Yemenis working in the embassy kitchen were friends. Nabeel continued, “Four Americans then left the embassy with a security man who drove the armored vehicle to the Mövenpick Hotel, wher
e the Americans had dinner.” Nabeel informed his chief and Altair, “Two of our watchers entered the hotel and confirmed to me that two of the Americans were Corey and his wife, and one was the security man, Brenner, and one was a diplomat called Harris.”
The Panther nodded again. This would have been a good place for Nabeel and the jihadists to visit and kill all four Americans at dinner as they drank alcohol. The Mövenpick employed National Security police and private guards on the premises, but these were of no consequence. What was of consequence was the money paid by the Mövenpick and other Western hotels to Al Qaeda in return for peace. But if The Panther had known of the four Americans in the hotel—if Nabeel had telephoned him—he would have ordered the assassination in this case.
Nabeel continued, “The Americans then drove in their vehicle to the Russia Club.” He reminded his chief, “The security in this compound is very strong, and we have no friends in this place.”
The Panther responded, “Soon, when our jihadists enter Sana’a, there will be no one alive in that filthy place.”
“Yes, sir.” Nabeel completed his report, which on balance, he thought, showed that he had done a very fine job of knowing where the Americans were throughout the day and evening.
The Panther, however, said, “So, it was good that you knew every movement of the Americans. But I believe you were supposed to kill them.”
Nabeel explained, “As you know, sir, these are trained men and they take precautions.” Nabeel reminded The Panther of the armored vehicles, the weapons, the bulletproof vests, and the possibility that other American security men were watching their compatriots. Nabeel also said, “And, of course, sir, the PSO also watches the Americans.”
The Panther stared at Nabeel for a long moment, then asked him, “Were you frightened, Nabeel?”
Nabeel replied quickly, “No, sir. We were waiting for the moment when we could be certain the Americans could not escape our bullets—when they could be shot in the head, to ensure—”
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