The Mark of the Rebel

by B K Thomas

  Captain Ben Haim jumps out of his chair and looks at the screens. He sees the trucks pulling out. His heart rate increases.

  “Time to put this case to rest Sergeant.” He says cheerfully but his smile fades. They watch the display that shows the trucks speeding through the city.

  “Sir, we have a problem.” The Sergeant relays.

  The Captain watches helplessly as the vehicles reach Al Dallah Square and separate in three different directions. Two turn northeast heading toward Al Suwar, one heads straight toward Al Raqqah where it can head to Aleppo, the other heads southwest toward Palmyra.

  “Did we get any confirmation as they exited the building?” The Captain asks squeezing his hands into fists.

  “No, sir. Our assets in the area had a problem getting there.” The Sergeant hated to say it.

  The Captain’s mind races. He grits his teeth. He knows they are headed to Damascus, but he has no idea which vehicle has the General. Now the question is, should he tip his hand and take out the one on the way to Palmyra, the fastest route to Damascus, or wait? He hated that his guys weren’t able to get there in time. He knows he can’t take any chances. This is too important. He doesn’t have the luxury of time anymore. Whether they will find what they are looking for or not, they are getting too close to their destination to risk it.

  “Light up the one headed to Palmyra.” He says begrudgingly.

  “Yes, sir!” Sergeant Eli says enthusiastically then relays the command.

  Captain Ben Haim stares at the screen in frustration. He should have known this was coming. It has been too easy, and these guys aren’t amateurs. They have lulled him into a sense of control, and he became overconfident. He watches as the drone feed veers toward the highway leading toward Palmyra. The highway comes into view and is empty for a moment. The vehicle enters the screen and Ben Haim stares at it.

  “Sir, the pilot is asking for confirmation to fire.” Sergeant Eli states.

  “Fire at will.” Captain Ben Haim commands. “At least we’ll be getting rid of a few bad guys regardless if this is the General or not.”

  “Yes, sir!” Eli answers with excitement then he gives the command to the pilot.

  The view on the screen is steady then jumps slightly as a missile releases from the drone and enters the screen on its way down to the vehicle. In a moment it is over. Smoke billows up over the destruction as the drone circles the scene to determine the lethality of the strike.

  “Sir, no activity inside or outside of the target.” Eli relays from the operator.

  “Good, let’s go after those two heading toward Raqqah. We take them all out now. No more waiting.” Captain Ben Haim shakes his head. “Let me know when we’re back up.” He says as he heads back to his desk. He sits down in his chair and turns to look at his map. They got him this time. His mind goes into overdrive reviewing every detail.

  “Get me eyes on that building anyway. They could have pulled a fast one on us.” He calls out over his shoulder to Eli.

  “Yes sir, I’m on it.” Eli answers and picks up the phone to make the call.

  ***

  Dier ez-Zor, Syria

  They just exit the apartment and are walking to the vehicles when they hear the explosion in the distance. “Peace be upon our brothers.” Mashal prays aloud. Mashal, the General, and two other men climb into a sedan. Zamir, and three others climb into a truck. Each leave at five-minute intervals. Mashal sits pondering the efficiency of the journey so far. Allah has been good to them. They have made the right moves at the right times. He knows his enemy well. He has great information from a number of sources about operational tactics. The Americans are children about security. Their arrogance makes them vulnerable. They tell everyone what they are doing and how they are doing it. He can pull up their tactics on the internet and watch videos when he wants to, much less read their leader’s plans. They are very capable there is no arguing that, but they have been kicked out of many places. They have been defeated in Vietnam, Lebanon, Somalia, and others. Their country has become weak. Their soldiers are brave and fierce, but they are betrayed by their leaders again and again. Mashal will reap the reward for taking advantage of their weaknesses. The first part of his plan is nearly complete, and he will embark upon the next part very soon.

  They slow to go around the wreckage as they came upon the bombing site. They pull off the road to go around it and once clear, speed up again. They do not stop. There is no need. The scene is horrific. Twisted metal, smoking fabric and other unidentifiable things burn as they pass. The General looks on with a sad feeling in his core. What a waste of humanity. Those men are pawns in a game that they will not win. They drive on in silence. Mashal has planned expertly and the General grows more impressed than ever of his captor’s skill. He tries to shake the feeling that his fate has become determined by this madman, but it stays. He isn’t scared like others would be in this situation. He has faced death too many times to become overwhelmed by it. He is saddened at the thought of his family. He holds to the hope that even if he doesn’t find a way out Mashal will honor his word. He looks at Mashal and notices a slight smile on his face. He is a happy man for the moment. He is racing toward Damascus to his goal. The General looks out of the window at the land passing by in a blur and closes his eyes to escape it all, if for just a moment.

  ***

  ASG, Jordan

  “Sir, we just received word that there was an airstrike a little while ago in Syria on the highway that leads to Palmyra,” Jackson calls out to Major Westbrook.

  “I knew it. That…, get that Captain on the phone if he’ll pick it up. It is him and we both know it. He’s been holding back. I’m telling you now if he doesn’t get this guy, we’re taking this operation over.” Major Westbrook slaps his desk in anger and excitement. Either way, he is going to win this one. If they got the target, then he can raise the complaint they didn’t snatch them for intel and complain that the Americans have been left in the dark. The Major’s higher-ups will not like it and he can get a little traction from the complaint. If they didn’t get the target and the trail is cold, then it is a slam dunk. He hopes they did and hopes they didn’t. He’d nail that Captain for failing to get the guy and his superiors will coerce the Israelis into being more cooperative. They will run the operation from Jordan instead. He doesn’t care either way, but it will help him more if they missed. He’ll get his shot and he won’t miss.

  “Sir, I was told the Captain is unavailable due to a critical mission.” The Sergeant knows what’s up and smiles.

  The Major smiles back. “Call Lieutenant Colonel Noble. We’re getting in on this now.”

  “Roger that sir.” Jackson works on getting the call setup and Westbrook ponders how to phrase it.

  “Sir, I’ve got him on the line.” Jackson interrupts his thoughts.

  “Hey Jim, we have a situation...” the Major starts. Three minutes later the Major hangs up. “We’ll see how hard our Captain is to get a hold of now.

  Chapter 18

  Al Fayahaa Sporting City, Damascus

  They get off the bus near the Al Fayahaa Sporting City. Sahila scans the apartment buildings that overlook the sports complex. She wonders how many people might live there who might recognize her. The reality of how easy they might be discovered is hard to ignore now. Her cause is becoming more dangerous with each passing day and the encounter at the bus stop has, in her mind, escalated things.

  All around the soccer stadium lush green grass is growing. The appearance of a peaceful, well-groomed soccer field is a mirage. The hell they live in each day created by the civil war raging throughout the country, make it feel out of place. The war zone, spiked with terrorist attacks, makes the contrast otherworldly. Their bus stop adventure gives them a lot to consider. Yaqeena and Sahila walk to the stadium each lost in their own thoughts. They survey the area and decide the entrance to the stadium underneath the portraits of the Syrian presidents is the best place to film. The president's portraits overh
ead contrasted against the message and the women defying the government is perfect. They will make it a quick shoot in case a caretaker or one of the athletes show up unexpectedly. Yaqeena has Sahila sit at the bottom of the stairs, on the first step, so they can capture the smiling face of the current Syrian President overhead. Yaqeena gives her a thumbs up and hits record.

  “Brothers and sisters of humanity, I am here in Syria. I sit below the faces of men who are just like men in your nations. Men who wield power and use it to control the people and suppress your freedom. Sure, they allow some pleasures they call freedoms. They allow you to enjoy some of life, so far as it doesn’t threaten their grip on your lives. Even in the beacon of democracy, the United States of America, we continue to see abuses of power. That government, my government, and your government too, has used its power to intimidate people. They use their power against anyone that challenges their authority. Governments everywhere use their power to intimidate people. They keep the people in line any time there is a threat to their authority. We have experienced such behavior here in Syria!” She scoffs. “How many have been slaughtered in the name of control? How many have been identified as terrorists who are just working for freedom? If the media does not go along with the government narrative here or in other countries it finds itself coerced into parroting the party line or cast aside. Journalists are intimidated in some countries, threatened, beaten or worse they disappear to never be seen again. Name a country you hold up as a beacon of freedom and I will show you the lies you believe. We need true leaders. People for humanity who are not pursuing leadership to fulfill their own greed and power. Greed drives these wars. The drive for power. The drive to control the masses and all the wealth they can grab. These things drive these people and wreaks all this destruction in our lives.” She pauses to let the audience absorb the ideas. “And yet, they hardly notice our pain. I call you to make them notice. Join me in this fight. We will bring our voice to the world and put an end to this war and all other wars. We will take down the portraits of human leaders who want to be worshipped like gods and replace them with portraits of humanity and the beauty of life. We are all created by the same God. Why should we worship their image? Why should we bow to these leaders any longer? I won’t.” She pauses, stands and continues. “Stand with me in the fight against this injustice. I am going to the United Nations.” Her voice shakes with the emotion behind the words. “Join me and march on the United Nations. We will demand our voices be heard. We will expose the lies of the countries that murder us across the world. We will demand justice. We will demand change.” Her voice grows stronger and louder. “If you can’t demand it for yourself, then demand it for those who have died. If you don’t know anyone that has died, then demand it for those of us still living in these places where other countries wage war and the people, their homes, and deaths are just collateral damage in their game.” Her impassioned plea continues to grow in intensity. “Join me! Together, we will make them answer!” Her voice peaks in anger. “Together, we will make this world a better place!” She finishes by thrusting her fist into the air in a mark of defiance. She stands in silence and Yaqeena holds her breath as she lets the recording go a little longer then stops it. Sahila drops her arm to her side and slumps to the step. Yaqeena rushes to her as she hears the crying begin. Yaqeena wraps her arm around her and holds her. Tears well up in her eyes as she feels the pain and sorrow engulfing her sister. She cries, heartbroken for the pain that she can do nothing to heal but wants to so desperately. Yaqeena is so proud to be her sister. She knows getting stopped at the bus has shaken them both, but she marvels at the courage of her sister. She shows no fear as she declares such things in the face of the growing danger to them both.

  They sit there for a few minutes and the cries give way to sniffles. “Thank you, sister,” Sahila says while she hugs her sister. They stand and Yaqeena suddenly recalls the video. “Sahila! The UN?” She half shrieks with excitement. Sahila smiles and shrugs. “It just came out.” They start to walk. “Okay, but now what?” Yaqeena demands. “I mean, how do we even do that? How do we get out of here and to New York?” She wonders aloud.

  Sahila sighs. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan it. It just came out. I guess it’s time. We have been guided to do each thing at the right time. We will have to continue to keep moving forward and see where it takes us.” Sahila looks ahead as they walk. She feels better with each step. She doesn’t know what lay ahead but she knows what she is saying is true. Even if the government does catch her, she has started a movement and it won’t die with her. Her sister will continue the mission even if something happens. She can count on it. They visit a nearby café to upload the video and start researching how to get to New York.

  ***

  Mossad, Tel Aviv, Israel

  “Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Fisher is on the line.” Sergeant Eli calls out reluctantly. He knows what this means. The news of the strike has made it to Major Westbrook and the Americans aren’t happy about it. Now his leadership wants to know what happened and his boss need answers.

  “Yes, sir.” Captain Ben Haim braces himself.

  “I know you were tracking the Iraqi General and some kidnappers with the option of a drone strike. Did you get them?” He can hear Fisher shift his weight in his chair. “I have the Americans hounding me about it,” Fisher says getting to the point.

  “Well sir, we had a gap in our observation and the target was on the move, so I had to start taking measures before we lost all of them. We’re still in the middle of the operation. I was going to brief you as soon as we have all the details and are finished with the strikes but here’s a quick recap. The targets were traveling in four vehicles. They stopped at an apartment building, in Deir ez-Zur. They were there for a short time, maybe to pick up supplies but left the apartment after a few minutes and when they got on the road, they split taking different routes. We took out one vehicle headed to Palmyra already. The next two are headed to Raqqa. The fourth is headed to Al-Suwar. If they’re headed to Al-Suwar, I’m less concerned about them, I think they’re definitely a decoy.” Ben Haim tries to summarize.

  “Well, I’m sure you did your best. How do things look?” Fisher tried to determine the next step.

  “Yes sir, well we are about to strike the two vehicles headed to Raqqa. We’re coming up on them now.” Ben Haim hopes this will sound better to Fisher than it does to him.

  “Hmm, okay.” There is a brief silence then Fisher continues. “You go ahead and proceed, but you’re going to have to let Major Westbrook have a larger part of this effort. This is a low impact operation, so we don’t see any reason to keep them out. Update me on how things are going with the Major after you bring him up to speed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ben Haim’s stomach turns at the thought of failing. He hated to let Fisher down. He is even more determined to see this through than before. “I’m on it, sir. I’ll get him up to speed right away.”

  “I know they can be a pain Ben, but you know the Americans can be very useful. Keep up the good work.” Fisher encourages him and the conversation ends.

  Ben Haim sits back in his chair and closes his eyes. It is bad enough to have things go wrong, but to get saddled with the Americans, just adds insult to injury.

  ***

  ASG, Jordan

  “Sir, the Israelis are calling.” Sergeant Jackson says with a smile.

  Major Westbrook waits for a few seconds then finally picks up. “Captain Ben Haim, it’s good to hear from you.”

  “Yes Major, we have been very busy and I…” Ben Haim is interrupted.

  “I know, that’s what I heard.” The Major enjoys butting in and putting it out in the open.

  “Yes, well” Ben Haim gathers himself. “We were able to strike three out of the four vehicles we were tracking.” Ben Haim hated saying it aloud.

  Amateurs the Major shakes his head. “That’s good.” He shakes his head and points at the phone as the Sergeant watches the conversation unfold. “
We don’t take out unverified targets. You ID’d the targets before the strike I’m sure.” The conversation grows more painful to Ben Haim. He would have rather eaten nails.

  Major Westbrook enjoys the exchange and lords the failure over Ben Haim. He doesn’t want to push it too far, but he wants the Captain to think twice before keeping anything from him again.

  “We haven’t been able to identify them yet, but we are working on it right now.” Ben Haim forces the words out. “I will let you know as soon as we have hard evidence.”

  “That sounds great Captain. I look forward to getting your update by the end of the day.” Westbrook hangs up the phone and sits back in satisfaction. Now things are headed in the right direction.

  “What did I tell you, Jackson? They were leaving us out but now they screwed up, don’t even know if they got their guy or not. I swear.” He shakes his head again. “They talk about how tight the Israelis run things but from how things look over here, they’re looking like a bunch of amateurs. At this rate, they’ll be lucky if they got Iraqi General. We’ll see, but if these guys have disappeared for the moment, we’ll find them. I’ll bet you another bottle!” The Major promises.

  “Roger that.” Sergeant Jackson acknowledges. The Major is on the scent and he knows he will get his prey. “I’m sure the Captain is going to be your new best friend now.” He laughs. “He might be sending you a bottle of something before long.”

  The Major felt better already. “You better believe it. He can’t be happy about it, but we’re going to be driving this thing. He’ll see how the Americans do things and how we get them right.”

  Chapter 19

  Highway 20, Syria

  Mashal is excited. The journey to Damascus is almost complete and the next part of the journey is about to begin. He looks back at the General who has fallen asleep. He identifies with the General. He is a survivor. Mashal can respect it. But the General is a senior officer. He has been removed from the front lines for a long time. The General has missed his opportunity to change the world for Allah. Mashal will not miss his chance. His time is now, and he is going to make the world pay attention. Even the people back home are too busy buying American t-shirts and Paris fashion to take their job seriously. He has no need for it. His mission is clear. Conquer the world and usher in the Caliphate. It is simple. His friends in the movement feel the same way. Some are weaker than he is and are caught up in cigarettes and other things, but Allah has given him the strength to remain pure of all these defilements. His mind is clear and sharp and driven to complete his vision. He is ready to remind the world of the truth. He knows the General is a lost cause. He will play along and offer sympathy to Mashal, but he is a survivor, not a believer. Mashal is almost disappointed. He would have liked for the General to join in the fight. A man of his experience would be of great use in the struggle against the world. Men like the General, as noble as they might be in their own minds, had lost sight of the purpose they had been given as young men. The highest peak the faithful can reach is to re-establish the Caliphate. His goal is no mere Arab-Islamic unification under a leader as those of the past. His vision is to usher the promised lslamic ruler, the promised Messiah the Mahdi, by bringing the secular Arabs and the unbelieving West to their knees. The General and others like him had passed on such glory for the fleeting comforts of this world. Mashal chose the glory of the next world over the pleasures of this one. He will see his vision become reality. Whatever the cost.