“Well, I must admit to only being able to try to understand you, Qassam. You still haven’t told me what this is all about.” Changing his tact, Ezekiel Templar continued on. “I can see that a great deal of time and effort have been invested, and the planner had to have been a very intelligent as well as resourceful person.”
Ezekiel knew instinctively that Qassam was most likely the principal author of what was happening around them, and his calculated appeal was aimed squarely at the other man’s sense of pride and ego. His gambit took only the briefest time to bring fruit as the terrorist began nodding agreeably.
“Why thank you, Colonel” responded the Hezbollah leader. “I take that as a real compliment, as I am the one responsible for this project.” Qassam seemed overly pleased with the recognition and Ezekiel made a mental note of the first chink discovered in his opponent’s armor.
“Since you are apparently so determined to discover what this is about,” added the commander, “I will explain exactly what is happening and what will happen in the very near future, for all the good it will do you.”
“You mentioned knowing something about the word jihad” Qassam began. “Pardon my lack of confidence in your knowledge, yet I seriously doubt that any non-believer can fully appreciate this fundamental pillar of Islam. Your people often simply translate it as ‘holy war.’ However, it means so much more to those who devoutly follow the teachings of the Prophet, blessed be his name.”
Yahla al-Qassam paused for a moment, putting his thoughts in proper order. “Yes, Colonel, I will indulge your ceaseless curiosity in this. After all, the three of you are playing a very small part in what will be a verifiably momentous event, and you should have the chance to comprehend it more fully. But first, a necessary lesson in history that has brought us all to where we are now.
“For some thirteen centuries my people have waged this conflict in not only a physical sense, but also in what encompasses the mind, the heart and the spirit. Their ceaseless struggling and faithful acts of purification led Islam to be the light of the world early on. While your ancestors were only one step beyond living in caves and dying from the Black Death, ours were recognized as the greatest mathematicians, architects, astronomers, scientists and scholars the world had ever seen. Our culture was without peer.
“During that time cities such as Baghdad, Cordova, Istanbul, Cairo, Tripoli and many others arose, each becoming a sphere of influence for those in search of enlightenment and knowledge. The largest known libraries on earth were found within their confines and buildings of breathtaking beauty lined their streets. This period became known as the Islamic Renaissance, or The Golden Age.
“For example did you know that Ibn Sina, the Persian whom your people call Avicenna, finished a fourteen volume work entitled The Canon of Medicine in 1025 and it remained the standard for many Western doctors until the early 1800s? And that he was also renowned as a poet, philosopher and astronomer, as well as a respected scholar of the holy Quran?
“Ibn Sina was only one of innumerous giants of our Islamic Golden Age. There were so many others, all anointed by Allah himself and led by the teachings of the Prophet, blessed be his name. These men in turn inspired others and Islam blossomed in the minds and hearts of the true believers, and these in turn were rewarded with riches beyond imagination for their devotion.”
As Qassam pursued his course of thought, Ezekiel noted the fervency growing in the man’s voice. Yet it was the look in his eyes that so forcefully underscored what would otherwise have been mere words, those eyes that were neither focused on him or anything else in the room. Their burning intensity gave away the countenance of a man who was looking to a faraway place and time, and yearning to go there. They were the eyes of someone driven half mad by the zealotry of his own fevered dreams and altered perceptions of greatness.
Still lost in the recollections of a world equally lost to the ravages of time, change and circumstance, the Hezbollah leader kept on with his ascending monologue.
“Then came the Christian Crusaders from the West as well as the Mongolian hordes of the East. We were a people of peace and believed that knowledge was the key to cure all ills, including those of greed, avarice and the corruptible qualities of conquest and power. We were wrong.
“With our enemies attacking from outside and the rot of the Zionist Jews from within, our Golden Age came to an ignominious end. One disaster befell another as the centuries passed, and those who were once chosen by Allah became little more than servants and slaves to all who occupied our lands. We ourselves had forgotten the importance of the Prophet’s command to wage jihad and the associated sacrifices required in doing so.
“However, when those occupiers gave up our holy land of Palestine to the filthy Hebrew who had collaborated in our defeats and helped fetter our people, a new page was turned in the story of Islam. More so than any other one thing, this last dishonor reminded us of who we had once been and how low we had sunk since.
“At that humiliating realization, that odious nadir in the midst of an open sewer, we at last rediscovered our destiny. Our banners now fly high again. Our swords are lifted in unity while the sacred words of the Prophet overflow in our mouths as well as our hearts. Once again, we relearn the true meaning of jihad and the vital purification it entails. No matter how heavy the cost, we shall never return to the shame of licking any infidel’s feet.” Qassam fixed his full attention on Ezekiel Templar again, staring at him with a seething emotion barely controlled.
“By this time tomorrow, the United States will also fully understand the concept of jihad and to learn to live in fear of it. You will be confronted with a new kind of war that you have forced upon us. Man, woman or child, it will not matter as all will suffer in what is to come. The words of the Prophet command it.”
A pregnant silence filled the room as each of the three captives beheld in full measure what they were presently captive of. It was at that very moment when each became cognizant of this human embodiment of a wholly metastasized, malignant, form of wickedness.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Qassam” began Ezekiel, searching delicately for the right words to reach something akin to a conscience inside this self-defined terrorist, on a self-described mission of mass murder. “Is it not written in your Quran that your Allah loves the kind and the compassionate, and that he does not forbid you to be kind and equitable to others? There is nothing holy or honorable or justified in the murdering of innocent people.”
The Hezbollah operative gave Ezekiel a quizzical look, cocking his head to one side. “Your choice of phrasing shows you know something about the Quran, Colonel, or perhaps you were told something of it by others. How is that so?” Qassam pondered a moment more and then seized upon a thought, wagging his index finger emphatically.
“Yes, I remember now. You served as part of the American delegation sent by your President Eisenhower to help with negotiations during the Suez Crisis. You were in Nasser’s Egypt for most of the year of 1957, weren’t you?”
Qassam’s question was rhetorical and phrased as more of a statement in fact than anything else. Ezekiel gazed blandly back at the Hezbollah leader with his best poker face intact. Yet inside he was wondering just how much Qassam actually did know, both about him and The Uvalde Raider. With a growing apprehension the elder Templar was discovering his opponent was not only in fact highly intelligent as well as resourceful, he also did his research thoroughly and had a keen mind for seemingly insignificant details.
“You have very good sources of information, Qassam” Ezekiel responded impassively.
“And you have a very good memory, Colonel. I am pleased that you evidently tried to learn more about our people and our beliefs all those years ago,” stated Qassam.
“But be that as it may, in reality your recollection is both fragmentary and imprecise. You see, in jihad there are no innocents among infidels and non-believers. Unfortunately for you, that is how your people are divinely defined in the Quran. For it
is written, ‘Fight and kill the disbelievers wherever you find them, and seize them, beleaguer them and lie in wait for them in every stratagem of war.’”
Qassam raised his right hand and shook it in the empty air. “Beyond that it is also written: ‘Against them make ready your strength to the utmost of your power, including steeds of war, to strike terror into the hearts of the enemies of Allah and your enemies, and others besides.’”
The Hezbollah leader’s voice raised an octave or two in passion as he went on, “Please note the terms ‘every stratagem of war’ and “to strike terror into the hearts of the enemies of Allah.’ You and your kind are our enemies and we are commanded to make war on you in every way possible.” Pointing to the Flying Fortress parked outside he added emphatically, “There is our steed of war and it is how we will strike terror into those hearts!”
Qassam then paused to recollect himself and flashed a well-calculated, wolfish sort of smile. “Besides, I seem to recall a ghastly number of innocent people killed in your bombing raids of World War II. It is said that entire towns and cities ceased to exist. Now tell me, Colonel, how does that square with your professed love for the innocent?”
The features in Ezekiel’s face tightened and his eyes glinted in response. “That was war, Qassam.”
“As it is now, Colonel Templar” the terrorist replied self-assuredly. “And there are exactly 164 verses in the Quran to tell us how to fight it.”
Calming himself internally and still groping to somehow reach common ground, Ezekiel tried a different approach.
“Then what kind of war are you fighting against those such as Saddam Hussein and others like him?” queried Ezekiel. “How can we be this great enemy when we stand with you against such a terrible menace to your fellow Muslims? Look at what he has done to the Iranians and the dissidents within his own land. Even nations such as Syria are making ready to join us against him.”
“Colonel,” Qassam scoffed, “you believe too much in those childish adages attributed to our culture such as ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ Do not take us for fools or simpletons, we are far more sophisticated than that in thought as well as action.
“Yes, the Syrians will assist you in ridding us of an outright apostate such as Saddam, much in the same manner as they have assisted us in our own cause for many years. They do what they can for our shared faith of Islam, as do we. But that does not make any two of us enemies to each other because of a temporary alliance of convenience to you. When you lived among us, did you not hear of the concept of Taqiyya? You take us as being backwards and simple minded, yet it is you who is being deceived. A true believer will never lie to another believer, but he will readily do so to non-believers to protect himself or to protect Islam.
“We Muslims have used Taqiyya since the time of the Prophet. For it is written, ‘Let not the believers take the disbelievers as friends instead of the believers, and whoever does that, will never be helped by Allah in any way, unless you indeed fear a danger from them.’ That feeling of danger is why many of my brothers may praise you with their words but secretly curse you to hell in their hearts.
“No matter what sort of scheme you may devise to separate us, in the end we are all followers of Allah and you are not. Much like a large family we have our arguments and disagreements, sometimes leading to the shedding of blood. But make no mistake, it is a shared blood and a shared faith. When you or your Zionist allies interfere with members of our large family, we will all turn against you with a fury you cannot even begin to comprehend.
“Shi’a and Sunni will ultimately come together as the brothers they are in Allah’s eyes, and we will defeat you. The Western world constantly underestimates us, as well as that divine power that Allah has bestowed upon those loyal to him. As long as we hold true to his commands, we will once again rule all in a global caliphate.
“Are you aware of the prophecies concerning the Twelfth Imam? Allah willing, he will come in our generation’s time and lead us to victory. Shi’a over Jew, Muslim over Christian, the Prophet Muhammad over your Jesus, Allah over your God. It is already written, all we must do is to remain faithful. It is our destiny. The symbol of Hezbollah itself is a globe with an upraised arm brandishing a Kalashnikov. It is symbolic of our total devotion to the imposition of Islam through jihad, by any means necessary.”
Yahla al-Qassam’s very being was now overflowing in a flood of theistic zeal, his words building upon each other in devoutness as well as intensity. With his three prisoners acting as a captive audience he was reaching a near frenetic zenith, pacing the floor before them and waving about his arms and hands for added effect. Then in mid-stride he abruptly stopped and pivoted about, gesturing again to the restored heavy bomber waiting outside.
“Your airplane will be the harbinger of a new kind of terror unheard of to this point, with a killing capacity unimagined by those who designed it in the 1930s or by anyone who ever flew it before. You have a great city in your state, a city that is home to a population of nearly one million people and five different American military bases. It is a thriving hub for commerce and travel, as well as a cherished landmark for your people’s history and culture. You call it San Antonio.
“What will happen there tomorrow morning will be the beginning of what is to come. I chose my target carefully, Colonel, in the very same manner as everything else having to do with this mission. It has been said that the goal of war is not in how many people you kill but rather how one can break the will of a people to resist. Can you think of a better place to do so than at the very site and symbol of your Texas fight for independence, the very ground on which your venerated Alamo still stands?
“Think of the irony of it all, Colonel Templar. An antique bomber once used to destroy your enemies and now owned by a man first sired by some long–forgotten Crusader, being used to destroy a cherished mission and city that are near sanctified symbols of your beliefs and way of life. All done in the name of Islam, and all done to sweep in a more enlightened belief system and way of life. Can you think of a better example of the odd circumstances of destiny, Colonel?”
Qassam stood in front of them, his lips slightly curled and exposing his white, gleaming teeth in a sort of predatory animal-like snarl. The man’s brows peaked in fierce assertion, and his eyes were flared wide and glowing with something beyond mere mortal malfeasance. His was the countenance of evil personified, an evil driven by something beyond the tangible realm. Every one of the captives before him had looked upon pure wickedness before, but nothing quite akin to what was in their presence now.
Yet through it all Ezekiel Templar gave every appearance of being unshaken by Qassam’s vitriolic tirade, refusing to be emotionally distracted or dismayed in confirming what exactly the terrorist had in mind. Still angling for this knowledge and another chink in his opponent’s armor, he decided to push a bit more.
With a feigned casualness, Ezekiel commented, “Qassam, you are putting a great deal of hope into a fifty-year-old bomber with some plastic drums slung into its belly. Because if you do manage to get it off the ground without killing yourself and manage to find San Antonio before being shot out of the sky, there’s no amount of high explosives that you could conceivably stuff into that plane to make any real difference or change.
“Yes, you might be able to blow something up and kill some innocent people but you’re not going to break their will. About all you can really accomplish is make them mad enough to track you and your organization down to do likewise, no matter what rock you decide to hide under or how long it takes. Now, for everybody involved, don’t you think you’d better call this off while you still can?”
The Hezbollah leader, eyes still wide and ablaze with a fire sparked by a supernatural malignancy, stared intently at the elderly man for a long moment. His features began to soften ever so slightly as he regained control of the raging beast that had escaped from within.
“Your continuing concern for our welfare never ceases to amaze me,
Colonel,” Qassam remarked, “nor to amuse. We will get your airplane off the ground safely and we will accomplish our objective as planned. This is not a massed bomber mission over Berlin in the winter of 1944, but rather a pleasure flight in peaceful skies by an enduring relic of your victory in that war. No one will suspect otherwise until it is far too late.
“As far as the effectiveness of our weapons, who said it would be high explosives? Once again, you assume far too much and persist in underestimating our means.” Qassam halted to both savor the moment and to properly pronounce what he was about to say. Then in the measured manner of speech one uses to recite difficult wording he asked, “Does the chemical compound Ethyl-bispropanyl-aminoethyl-sulfanyl-methylphosphinate mean something to you?”
Ezekiel Templar thought hard for several seconds, calling upon his knowledge of chemistry and the possible compounds of such when used for munitions. When his thinking process seized upon an answer; his own eyes widened involuntarily as a vague, cruel chill near enveloped him, sweeping through both body and spirit. It took longer still to wrap his mind around the enormity of what had just been said.
“That’s some sort of weaponized chemical agent,” Ezekiel managed to respond. He did so haltingly, losing temporary command of how he said it. Qassam was smiling again.
“Yes, Colonel Templar. VX to be exact.” stated Qassam triumphantly. “By far, the deadliest weapon of its kind ever invented. A nerve agent both odorless and tasteless, and which possesses the advantage of being very slow to evaporate compared to other chemical compounds for warfare. It is said to be a hundred times more powerful than Sarin, and a mere fraction of a drop absorbed through the skin is enough to kill the average human being.”
The terrorist leader nodded to the Boeing and the blue drums situated beside the bomber. “There are five hundred gallons of VX agent in those ten plastic containers. It is enough to allow about a twenty-three-kilometer swath from one end of San Antonio to the other, with a path approximately one hundred meters wide. If you look closely, you will see that we are finishing the installation of the portable pumps, as well as the high-pressure lines needed to disperse it from your airplane. Following that, my men will don the proper protective clothing to load and secure those drums.”
The Uvalde Raider: A Templar Family Novel: Book One Page 5