United States military might had been supreme for decades, and continued to outpace the armed forces of the rest of the world with the technological investment in counter-terrorism following the events of nine-eleven. In many ways, the evolution and transformation of the armed forces eclipsed even the unimaginable buildup that occurred during the height of the cold-war era. Now no nation on earth came close to possessing the type of advanced weaponry the Americans possessed. This chasm, however, was about to be bridged in one fell swoop, as the awesome potential of his new device was unveiled. The world would soon awaken to a new reality, and an inevitable shift in the balance of power.
As Ra’ed mused on the present state of affairs, Aasim appeared from within the vaulted entrance to the central command center located deep in the heart of the mountain, and gently approached the leader.
“Sayid, I wish you much congratulations. I have heard of the fortunate news.”
“Thank you Imaad.” Ra’ed sometimes referred to the man by the name given to him by the people, which meant pillar or support, rather than his chosen name, the great protector Aasim. Both pseudonyms suited the man perfectly.
“Sayid, I am sorry to interrupt. I know you wish to address the people. But I must inform you. We have a guest.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He knows of our ways and our codes. We have let him into the inner sanctuary because…”
“Because what, Aasim?” Ra’ed felt he knew what the loyal Fedayin was referring to, igniting a surge of excitement in the leader.
“Well, Sayid, if I had not known better, I’d have thought he were you”, the guard uttered wide-eyed at the seemingly incongruous words.
Just then, Faarooq walked into the chamber, accompanied by two men on either side, with rifles affixed in a ready position before them. It was clear the armed guards did not trust the stranger, and were keeping a wary eye on the grizzled man, whose face appeared hideously swollen and bruised.
“Leave him be”, Ra’ed ordered. The armed men lowered their weapons and allowed Faarooq to approach the Sayf Udeen leader unimpeded.
“Good to see you my brother. Welcome home”, Raed said as he embraced Faarooq. “I am glad Allah has seen to your safe passage.”
“And you, brother. It has been too long.”
The other senior members of Udeen marveled as they overheard the exchange. Brother? Ra’ed Al-Abbas had a brother? Was this his long-lost twin with whom he had purportedly been separated at birth? The resemblance between the two men was uncanny. Some had heard the sibling had died, while still others spoke of enmity between the two. Both rumors were obviously false - the great intelligence agent of Sayf Udeen was apparently none other than a blood relative of its ruler.
“You look well, Sayid.”
“I wish I could say the same. Are you in need of a medic?”
“No, this is nothing that will not heal in time”, Faarooq replied, pointing to his bruised and battered face.
“You have fought hard and long for the cause, brother. No one has sacrificed more. Rest now. Anything you might need, any desire you might have, will be provided.”
“Thank you. I need but to see our dreams become a reality. That is my only wish”, adding poignantly as he placed his hand upon the shoulder of the Udeen chieftain, “It is indeed good to be back.”
“You need not wish much longer, Faarooq. Such a reality is upon us. Surely you have heard the Dhul Fiqaar is ready. The final preparations are being made, and I will soon be addressing the people.”
“Yes, I am aware. This is good news indeed…Sayid, there is something you should know”. Faarooq disclosed his findings from the agency, and from STAT in particular. It would be his final intelligence briefing from his time as an undercover spy.
“So that is how they did it…That is how they found Salaam” Ra’ed mused. “We might indeed find such information useful down the road.”
“Yes, I thought so”, Faarooq agreed. Now they knew a dirty little secret about the Americans. Most importantly, they had exposed one of the primary sources of intelligence the CIA had been relying upon.
“Well done Faarooq. We will have time later to discuss these matters further. Now I must go.”
A gathering had been assembled, and Ra’ed moved to address the Udeen nation. Now that Faarooq had arrived, there would be no cause for hesitation. He could move forward, completely free to unleash a wave of terror such as had never before been seen. The person closest to him was out of harm’s way, and there was simply nothing holding him back. Washington, Detroit, Seattle – in short shrift they would be rendered uninhabitable. And as for the Americans and the rest of the world, they would soon learn of the existence of a fierce new weapon of war. The Islamic bomb was ready to make its presence known to the world.
Jopprie decided to take the back roads to his village. It was late now, having taken him most of the daylight hours to barter his goods in the marketplace. The shortcut home had grown dangerous, but he was eager to rejoin his family. He could shave approximately 2 miles off his walk - nearly a third of the distance – by taking the windy back trails to his village. Given the hour, the youngster decided to make haste over the treacherous terrain, so that he might arrive at his destination before nightfall.
The events of the past day still bothered him. The dust was caked on him in places like a sheet, the gust that consumed the market in the early morning hours still leaving its impression – both physically and psychologically. Had his family experienced the quake? They must have, he concluded. Had anyone been injured?
He moved quickly, but alertly. The sun was beginning to fall along the horizon, and the covering darkness only increased his susceptibility along the desolate path. Times had become difficult, as thieves and criminals abounded. Most stole in desperation, an almost forgivable act when done out of necessity in these trying times. But Jopprie could ill afford such generosity. His family depended on him now; he must be careful.
The long drought and famine had not taken much of a toll on the youngster physically. His slender, sinewy frame still rippled with the vitality that came with a life spent toiling with one's hands. Unfortunately, the agricultural endeavors in his farming community were now barely able to sustain the inhabitants of his village. To supplement their livelihood, Jopprie and his brothers were taught to craft by his now-deceased father. Thankfully, their training extended well beyond the art of sculpting and carving; they were all able to defend themselves quite ably with a blade. While still a useful skill in these dangerous times, facility with a knife was no match when confronted by the barrel of an AK-47. Such weapons were commonplace now, and Jopprie felt he would have to defend himself in kind. His hand moved its way beneath his robes, fingering the gun hidden underneath. The weapon had been acquired recently from one of the newer soldiers that permeated the region, the well-armed, wealthy variety that could afford to part with such a necessity for one of his aesthetic masterpieces. Jopprie had never used the weapon, but was thankful nonetheless for its presence. It was his security blanket, and one he would not hesitate to use should the need arise.
As he rounded a bend in the road, Jopprie made a point to keep his guard up. His eyes and ears were acutely honed for any sign of danger, which was fortuitous as this latter sense now brought him to a standstill. The sound…it seemed to be coming from just beyond the road to his right. It was a noise quite unfamiliar, a churning, clicking, unnatural repetition that could only come from something man-made.
As he carefully inched his way closer, the rhythmic staccato became louder. Jopprie had walked these serpentine paths numerous times, and knew the sights and sounds of the terrain as only one who had lived his entire life in the area could. But he simply could not place this sound – it was totally foreign.
Normally, Jopprie would keep to himself and continue on his way, but he felt drawn to this unnatural sound. It was partly out of curiosity, and partly out of duty - a sense that something suspicious was afoot, perhaps connected
in some way with the strange events of the morning. He felt compelled to investigate.
Suppressing a mounting nervousness, Jopprie cautiously made his way towards the dense brush to his right, and parted the leaves granting him a view of the desert plain below. In the distance, not more than fifty feet away, were two turbaned men wielding a strange device – obviously the source of the noise. A more distinguishing (and ominous) finding drew his attention next - a heavy machine gun nestled on top of a jeep beside them. Jopprie had rarely seen such heavy weaponry before, even in the war-ravaged country. It was a clear sign these two were not some rogue soldiers wielding just a simple, ever-so-common AK-47. This pair obviously belonged to a more sophisticated and better-armed faction. Jopprie had heard rumors of a powerful new force in the region that was based in the mountains to the East. Perhaps these two belonged to this mysterious organization, purported to have as its mantra the goal of establishing Islamic independence. Many in his village were already talking about supporting the movement, but to Jopprie such a cause and sense of purpose seemed ill conceived. He was a Muslim, and could empathize with the prevailing sentiment that the wealthy nations of the developed world had ignored the struggling continent for years. But Jopprie did not harbor any sense of entitlement, and did not believe resources were well spent in fanatical acts predicated upon a foundation of hate and jealousy.
Jopprie wondered about the resources required to acquire such a weapon as was now perched above the automobile before him. What possible purpose did such a device serve in a land ravaged by starvation, illness and poverty? Moreover, what were these two doing in poor desert country with that peculiar device they were carrying that seemed to tirelessly crank out the now monotonous series of clicking sounds.
Jopprie did not have the answers to the many questions posed by the presence of the two inimical soldiers. All he could sense was that something was amiss, and that the last thing he wanted was to be discovered spying from the dense brush above. He knew better than to make his presence known, as word of the brutal ways of these clans had already spread. The irony was not lost upon the youngster – the cruelty his brethren bestowed upon one another was far worse than that of any of the foreign powers which they so vehemently opposed.
Jopprie was about to turn to leave when the loud clicking of the machine suddenly came to a halt. The absence of the sound now left a silent, palpable void. The men were still far enough away that Jopprie could safely make his way through the thicket without attracting attention, but in the sudden stillness of the night he hesitated. Still crouched near the ledge, Jopprie focused on the suspicious men below as he strained his acute hearing in their direction. The first thing that struck the youngster as he listened from the hillside above was the particular accented Arabic the men spoke. They were not natives of the region.
"…counts per second". Pause. Then the voice continued. "Yes, that's correct. But baseline counts…" The voice cut off. Another pause. It was clear to Jopprie the man wasn't talking to his companion, but rather to someone on the other end of a communication. He could only hear one end of the conversation.
"No sir, I don't think they'll be able to…"
“Who's they?” Jopprie wondered.
"Yes, they can't. This level's too low. Even if it brought it to their attention, the timing's …"
Jopprie couldn't pick up the end of the sentence. It didn't matter anyhow, he wasn't getting any closer to figuring out what was being communicated through the cryptic, one-ended conversation.
Jopprie had no clue the conversation he overheard centered on the information garnered from the device they carried. That what he had been transfixed by was the reading of a Geiger counter used to measure radioactivity, the inevitable fallout from the subterranean explosion that had shaken the ground that very morning. The gruesome weapon still left lingering evidence of its deadly power in the form of subatomic energy that could be identified with a machine first developed a century earlier at the dawning of the nuclear age. That the Geiger counter, or any other radioactivity detection equipment, could not identify the bomb before it detonated, was what rendered this particular substance so remarkable.
For the second time, Jopprie was ready to make his exit when his attention was again diverted – this time by a trail of dirt kicking up in the distance. Within seconds, he was able to make out a second vehicle across the desert flat. It was a nondescript pickup truck, although the men inside were anything but. In addition to the driver and a passenger up front, there were two others sitting on a ledge in the back of the vehicle. Jopprie could see that at least one of the men in the back was armed, the strap of an AK-47 clearly visible across his torso. But it was his companion slumped over in the rear that aroused the teen’s curiosity. The man wore the same fatigues as the others, but his mannerisms, the way he carried himself as he rode, spoke volumes. Jopprie could see he was a tall man, whose enervated posture - head hung low and back crouched forward in exhaustion – spoke of a long and arduous journey.
As they approached, Jopprie could see the taller man with greater acuity – he was a Caucasian, obviously battered and beaten, hands tied in front with a thick caliber rope. The man was submissive as the others nudged him off the back of the truck, although Jopprie could not help but notice his eyes - darting about, scanning the terrain. He was a worn captive, but still carried a certain air of confidence as he walked.
“So this is the American GI. Welcome.” Said the man whom Jopprie had been overhearing on the radio earlier. Turning now to one of his companions, the Udeen loyalist added “Azeez, you have done well my friend.”
An American…these men had taken an American prisoner? Jopprie wondered. But there were no foreign forces in the area. Where could these people have possibly captured one of the vaunted soldiers of the great nation of the West? Jopprie was now beginning to realize he had accidentally stumbled upon far more than even the sight of heavy weaponry might otherwise indicate. Something significant was taking place before him, and the youngster determined to learn all he could despite his mounting unease. His entire life had been spent in relative anonymity, and now, unfolding before him, were events that were likely to have ramifications on an international scale.
C.J.’s eyes darted about him. His legs were free, and he had regained some of his strength. There would be no way to escape these armed men along the flat plains, but just in the distance was a mountainous thicket of trees. If he could somehow escape into that brush, he might be able to evade his pursuers. It was not that far off…His eyes suddenly locked onto something. Or someone, yes…there was someone watching from a vantage not more than twenty meters away! Their eyes met: C.J. was staring at a lean, dark African with a penetrating, quizzical look on his face. The youth stared back, suddenly startled.
Jopprie’s heart jumped as he noticed the American looking straight up at him. In his excitement, his foot slipped as he was crouched low watching the events unfold below. A rock went tumbling down the hillside as he struggled to maintain his balance. Jopprie successfully regained his footing, but the damage was done; the noise of the impact of the hurtling stone as it crashed below belied his position. Suddenly, all eyes were looking up in his direction. Jopprie could see one of the men heading towards the heavy machine gun mounted on the jeep. He had made a dreadful mistake, and knew he must escape as quickly as possible.
Jopprie immediately got up, turned around, and dashed down the hillside to the path on the other side of the embankment. Behind him he could hear shouting and the crack of machine-gun fire. Branches all around him began crumbling to the earth as the random spray of bullets ripped into the forest. Men climbed the hill after him, hurriedly giving chase. Adrenaline was now coursing through his body as he secured his satchel tighter across his back and retrieved the gun from beneath his robes.
“There”, shouted a voice. Jopprie had been spotted, and now the bullets seemed to be striking closer to his position. Luckily, the fleet-footed youth made for a hard target, and es
caped unscathed as he veered off the path to deny a clean line of sight between himself and his pursuers. Scrambling now over rocks and boulders and around the trees and bushes that littered the ground, Jopprie deftly navigated the natural topography and vegetation, hoping the landscape might offer some added concealment and a better chance of evasion. He was now running with all his might, off the main path, and making his way through unfamiliar territory. A steep hill to his left brought him to a sudden stop. Where should he go next? Where was the main road? He had to concentrate, fearful of circumnavigating his original position and heading right into the hands of the awaiting soldiers if he inadvertently circled back.
The sound of a car and voices to his right made the decision clear. Others had driven towards the far end of the hillside in an attempt to cut him off, and now there was only one direction of escape – down the steep slope to his left. Gingerly, Jopprie made his way across the rough terrain, careful not to lose his balance. The slowing of his pace, however, would prove ominous as the sounds of his pursuers grew louder. They were catching up.
Jopprie had not looked back, and so had no clue just how close the terrorists were until he felt a sharp pain in his leg. Someone had arrived and fired a shot that came within millimeters of hitting its mark. The bullet shattered the rock beside him, sending one of the shards flying, piercing the skin of his lower extremity. Luckily, the wound was superficial. Instinctively, Jopprie swerved to the side, avoiding the next bullet that would surely be headed in his direction.
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