31

NABATIYEH GOVERNATE

The imam was back from Tehran. He beckoned, and Esmaili resented the gesture to the core of his soul. The Hezbollah commander also detested the sentiment behind the come-hither motion, for it screamed a tacit message: / command and you obey. Or else.

Esmaili approached the cleric, who turned and walked into the house that served as the cell’s headquarters. With a dismissive flick of the hand, Elham ordered the building emptied. In seconds Azizi appeared and the three sat down around the wooden table.

“I have received our final orders,” Elham began.

Esmaili and Azizi locked eyes for an ephemeral moment. Our final orders. Not only did the phrase have the ring of finality, but it implied that all three jihadists were about to set foot upon their final venture. Esmaili knew from experience and a well-honed skepticism that wherever the trail led, Sadegh Elham would remain alive to tell the tale.

“We are to launch simultaneous attacks on the villages of Amasha and El-Arian. It is a maximum effort, without concern for casualties.”

Esmaili’s glance at Azizi said it all: I told you so! He wondered how long the liaison man’s devotion and enthusiasm would remain intact.

Then Elham added, “That is, except for a handful of faithful fighters.”

Azizi did not seem overly relieved or concerned. He merely mouthed the expected phrase, “However we may serve, Imam.”

Unfolding a map, the priest spread it on the table. “Our instructions from Tehran require attacks on the villages mentioned. But they are diversions, which is why heavy losses are acceptable. The main attack will be directed elsewhere, and you will be informed when the time is right. The time will depend upon weather to cover us from enemy aircraft.”

Esmaili realized that the explanation was intended for him. Apparently Azizi already knew the full plan, and that perspective did not sit well with Ahmad Esmaili. They are close—at least far closer than I am to either of them. Therefore, I am likely expendable.

“Imam, if I may point out something. If the main attack goes in another direction, we will have to know its strength to allocate men and supplies. Otherwise the two diversions could soak up assets that will be needed elsewhere.”

Elham cocked his head slightly, scrutinizing the Hezbollah leader. The cleric’s steady gaze made Esmaili infuriatingly uncomfortable. At length Elham said, “Brother, you state the obvious. Of course the main mission will require men and . . . special equipment. That goes without saying. You should give us credit for competent planning.” Before Esmaili could respond, the priest added, “All has been considered long before now, my brother. I ask only that you place your trust in us, as you would in Allah.”

Esmaili’s mind raced. They are mad: they equate their own judgment with God’s! But then he remembered his childhood instruction: certain imams were especially beloved of God, as evidenced through religious scholarship and good works. Though not equal to a caliph, whose word could not be questioned, the leaders of a defensive jihad possessed special status in The Faith.

Esmaili inclined his head. “Imam, my apologies if I seemed doubtful. But you will understand my concern for seeing to the success of whatever my part of the mission may involve.” A nice recovery, he told himself.

Azizi sought to defuse the tension. “Brother Esmaili, it can be stated that you will have an important, even a crucial, role in the main attack. The unit you lead will be small, and therefore will not detract from either of the diversionary actions.”

“And the special equipment?”

“It will be provided at the appropriate time. There will be technicians to deal with it, so that aspect should not worry you.”

Esmaili rolled his shoulders, evidence of the strain he felt building inside. But as long as the commanders were talking, he decided to risk further questions. “As you wish, brother. But again: I am concerned about proper execution of the full mission. If I am to lead the main effort, who will direct the attacks on the villages?”

Azizi unzipped a smug grin. “I will. Therefore, your more important role will not be burdened with other concerns.”

Esmaili felt himself blanch. Now he knew: the “main attack” would almost certainly be a suicide mission, leaving Mohammad Azizi to supervise the covering forces in relative safety.

Esmaili heard his voice say, “As you wish, brother. I am yours to command.”

* * * *

EL-ARIAN

“Okay, here’s how it shakes out,” Nissen began. Phil Green and Bob Ashcroft paid close attention: their ex-cop antennae had sensed the atmosphere and picked up the growing tension.

“HQ is sending Steve Lee and Ken Delmore. They’ll be here in a couple of days. We’re getting Delmore directly and Frank will send us Pitney.”

Green’s blue eyes lit up. “I know Ken. We worked with him in Afghanistan.”

Ashcroft laughed. “Yeah, he looks like Mr. Clean on steroids. Bald as a billiard ball with twenty-inch biceps. He can prob’ly bench-press a Yugo without breaking a sweat.”

Nissen almost laughed. “Well, that’s fine, but I don’t know him. What’s his background?”

“Eighty-second all the way. Jumped into Grenada and landed on the runway. Says he was flat on the concrete with blue tracers flashing overhead and he thought, ‘I spent all that time building myself up and now I just want to get small!’”

Nissen chewed on that information and was pleased with the taste. “Well, nobody mentioned any language ability but apparently he has instructor credentials.”

“Sure does,” Ashcroft replied. “He’s been to a bunch of armorers schools and prob’ly knows more about the M16 and M4 than anybody I’ve ever met.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m really glad to get Pitney because of his Arabic ability because I can’t do it all.”

“So what’s with Lee?” Green asked.

Nissen shifted his feet. “He’s going to work with Frank. Nobody said so but I think the front office thought it’d be awkward to have somebody senior to me move in here. Personally, I can work under anyone who’s competent but Lee will be brand-new in-country and things might pop pretty soon.”

Ashcroft nodded his agreement. “We worked with Steve in Afghanistan and Pakistan, too. In fact, he led one of our teams hunting the al Qaeda cell that was spreading that virus. He did a good job.”

Chris Nissen was increasingly aware that he was relatively junior with SSI, leading men who had served together on other contracts in other climes. “Well then, Frank and headquarters called it right. I’m used to working with local indigenous personnel because that’s what green beanies do. Apparently Lee’s a door-kicker at heart, and his admin experience can be useful at Amasha.”

“Okay,” Green replied. “How do you want to work Pitney into our band of bros?”

Nissen laughed aloud. “Hell, it looks like I’m gonna be the El-Arian chief of police! With three ex-cops on the job here maybe I can even sleep in once in a while.”

“I’ve talked with Robert a few times,” Ashcroft said. “Obviously he’s a tremendous shooter, and evidently he does well as an instructor, speaking the lingo and all. Personally, I’d rather work through him than most of the militia dudes who sort of speak English.”

“Concur,” Nissen responded. “But let’s keep pushing these guys on the basics. The first time a round cracks past their ears they’re likely to dump half of what they ever learned.”

Green smiled. “Makes ‘em a member of a real big club, don’t it, Staff Sergeant?”

* * * *