The Third Cell

by Anthony D'Egidio

  The two men took the elevator to the third floor. The office was small with two interior doors and a large mirror.

  This is odd, thought Jacob as he looked around. The desk was perfectly clean except for two typed sheets of paper, a phone and four chairs. There was no typewriter and the imagined mess that would come with a reporter’s office.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” said Benjamin. As he left the room the entrance door locked remotely.

  Once on the other side of the door, Benjamin walked to the two-way mirror turning on the speaker.

  The other interior door opened and Jacob watched three men enter the room. Am I here for extortion? “If you want money from me, I’ll be glad to pay whatever your demand is.”

  All three seasoned agents sat in a semicircle around Jacob to intimidate him.

  The first to speak was a large muscular man with huge dark eyebrows and a permanent scowl across his forehead. “What is this special relationship you have with Ahman Rahman and his nephew Nasih?”

  I’m not being extorted. Jacob thought. I’m being interrogated by the secret police. I could be found dead tomorrow and no one would ever know the truth about my disappearance. Beads of sweat were streaming down his face; one hung precariously on the edge of his nose causing an itch that he didn’t dare scratch. I’ve heard stories of this type of abduction and the person was never found. They simply disappeared off the face of the earth. His heart was pounding so loud he couldn’t even understand the question.

  The agent repeated the question, but louder and more forcefully than the first time. “What is this special relationship you have with Ahman Rahman and his nephew?”

  “I only know him from business and I’ve had no other dealings with him,” said Jacob in a strained voice.

  The man then laid down several photos of Nasih, with Jacob’s son and daughter. “I find it hard to believe that this man’s nephew is living in your home with your family and you claim you only know him as a business acquaintance. Do you think me a fool?”

  “I was only doing the man a favor that he requested. He wanted to help the boy get a better education. It’s no more than that.” Jacob tried to gain his composure.

  Behind the two-way mirror, Benjamin listened and watched the facial expressions and body language of Jacob. The man may be telling the truth and has no idea that Ahman Imad Rahman is a radical Muslim.

  Benjamin continued to analyze the scenario in his mind. What is Ahman’s ulterior motive? What can be achieved by sending his nephew into a Jew’s home and school? Would he sacrifice his own nephew in a suicide attack on the school? More often than not, horrific attacks upon civilians and children had taken place.

  The interrogation lasted into the night with each Mossad agent taking turns in the questioning. Jacob was so exhausted he finally fell silent in protesting his innocence. It was then that Benjamin signaled the agents out of the room to meet with him.

  Benjamin reviewed the notes he had written. “He hasn’t changed his story in several hours and there have been no inconsistencies. I believe he has nothing to tell us and we’re wasting our time. Let him go.”

  As the agents escorted Jacob to his car, one leaned over as Jacob sat in the driver’s seat. “It would be wise if you didn’t mention this incident to anyone. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  Jacob, thankful for being alive, repeated over and over, “No one will know, no one will ever know, I pledge this to you.”

  Jacob drove off noticing that for the first time in several hours, he wasn’t perspiring. His tongue was so dry that he couldn’t swallow. He was so scared he wouldn’t even stop to buy a drink and he thought about the dilemma his was in. How do I tell Ahman graciously that Nasih has to leave?

  It was the school that would provide Jacob with his excuse.

  The headmaster called Jacob to meet with him. “We reluctantly took this Palestinian boy on your request. But it is near the end of the school year and we have a problem.”

  “There is nothing to worry,” said Jacob. “I won’t request he attend next year.”

  The headmaster responded, “The problem is now. He needs to leave immediately.”

  “Why now? The school year is over in a few weeks.”

  The headmaster frowned as he spoke in anger, “Because if he continues we will have to name him class valedictorian. This is already creating a major problem with the teaching staff. If word gets out, parents of the other students will be up in arms. We know you are the major benefactor but this is too much of an embarrassment. We’ll issue privately a diploma to the boy.”

  Jacob placed the call to Ahman. “Please come to my company. I need to talk about a problem.”

  Ahman could only speculate. It has to be about Nasih.

  At the meeting Jacob broke the news. “I am sorry to tell you that the school has asked Nasih to leave.”

  “Jacob, he only has a couple of weeks before he completes the school year.”

  “Ahman, may I be frank?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nasih is at the top of the class and would have to be named valedictorian. This presents the school with a major political issue. They will mail you Nasih’s diploma.”

  “Now I understand.”

  They graciously ended the meeting.

  After picking Nasih up, Ahman spoke to him about the events. “You know you became a problem for the Jews by showing them that you’re smarter. But your education was not the school, but the way of life that the Jew lives.”

  “Uncle, they are weak. The Jews are infatuated with status and most treat their religious beliefs as secondary. I know their weakness and the vulnerabilities that they possess. This was more important than all the books in the world could teach me.”

  Ahman smiled. “Nasih, you speak of this experience like an adult, not a boy of only eleven.” Nasih’s composure and maturity will always be his greatest asset.

  Since moving in with the Keinan’s, Nasih’s nightmares had ceased. He finally deducted that Allāh would not want him to show his weaknesses in front of the enemy.

  Nasih was reflecting upon his experiences when his uncle announced, “I’ve arranged to have you complete your education at El Huda Boy’s School in Jedda, Saudi Arabia.”

  The statement caught Nasih by surprise. No one ever mentioned doing such a thing. “If I go to Saudi Arabia, are you going to stay with me?”

  “No, that’s impossible. I have your grandmother to care for and the business to run. I’ll take you in August to meet with Abdullah Khamayseh, the brother of Cleric Khamayseh. Abdullah teaches Science at El Huda and has agreed to have you reside with him. He is also a strict interpreter of the Qur’an and will help you to have a better understanding of Islam.”

  Nasih was perplexed, “But Uncle, why Saudi Arabia and this school?”

  “This is one of the most exclusive schools. The Saudi elite send their children there. Only by having a close relationship with Cleric Khamayseh was I able to convince his brother to help get you admitted to the school.”

  Ahman paused to make sure Nasih understood. “You’ll interface and learn the Arab and Muslim differences that occur from each region. This is more important than the education you’ll receive. The people you meet during your time in Saudi Arabia will be valuable contacts and they could influence your life.”

  Nasih had never dreamed of having an education in a foreign country.

  Saudi Arabia was considered to have the most prestigious private school system in the Middle East and it was always an honor to attend.

  Nasih thought about the future. I’m nervous about going by myself. But I will be close to Mekka, the holiest site of Islam. Allāh has chosen me for a purpose I have yet to comprehend. I’m in His hands.

  Nasih’s fears became excitement.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE PLAN REVEALED, 1982

  Nasih, now sixteen, could hardly contain himself. He and his uncle had arrived in Jedda on Friday, September 24, 1982. Nasih had b
een at the El Huda School for the past five years. The school was closed until Tuesday, October 19. With the month of Dhu’l-Hijja starting on September 20, most of the school’s personnel and a majority of its students were making the Hajj to Mekka.

  Ahman had wisely booked the room at a hotel right after its construction the previous year. He paid an exorbitant price of two hundred Riyal, about forty American dollars, to a reluctant hotel manager, in order to secure the room. Being one of the newest hotels in Jedda and strategically located halfway between the airport and the city center it would be in high demand, especially with two million of the faithful converging on the city. It was a modern facility with impressive tropical gardens with a warm ambiance.

  Nasih stood gazing at the interior of the lobby as Ahman spoke to him. “You should enjoy this, because soon you’ll be in the stark conditions of the pilgrimage. Come, we’ll be expecting visitors soon.”

  Twenty minutes after entering the hotel room there was a knock on the door. Ahman answered, greeting each arrival, “Allahu Akbar, salla Allahu alayhi wa sallam. (God is the greatest, Peace be upon Him.)”

  Abdullah Khamayseh entered, followed by two students that Nasih had previously tutored, Abdul-Aziz al Hummos and Rashad Ali Obeid. Both fifteen-year-old boys were from Damascus, Syria.

  Their parents had lived in Haifa prior to the city being captured by Israeli forces on April 23, 1948. Like most of the Palestinian population, their parents were expelled from the city. Though the two boys had lived their entire lives in Syria, they always considered themselves to be Palestinians. They were two of the brightest at El Huda and were known for their passion of Islam and the Muslims For Justice ideology. Nasih gave them the same greeting as his uncle as he shook their hand.

  The group sat in a circle to what Nasih thought would be a discussion on the pilgrimage.

  Abdullah spoke in a quiet but commanding voice. “In Afghanistan, those with loyalty to Islam have launched a Jihad against the godless Soviet Union. We’ve also received support from the United States through the CIA and they have provided money and weapons. I don’t tell you this to praise the Great Satan nor have I changed my views of the United States, but only to give you the facts. Today we fight a common cause, but tomorrow they’ll be our enemy. Remember, they are the largest supporter of the state of Israel and will always be an adversary.”

  Nasih asked, “I thought we were here to discuss the Hajj?”

  Abdullah shook his head no as he spoke. “This meeting today is to talk about the future. We believe for us to achieve our goals of restoring the dignity of the Palestinian people, we’ll be in direct conflict with the Western Powers. It has been thirty-four years since Al Nakba, and the only thing that has changed for the Palestinians, is that they are worse off today, then when the Zionists ethnically cleansed them from what is now called Israel. In the refugee camps of the West Bank, the Gaza Strip and elsewhere, our people live like dogs, eking out a life on the barest of necessities. Our babies and children are slaughtered daily by the IDF, and if we raise one hand in defiance, we are then subjected to house-to-house searches, and our youth shot in the back as they try to run and hide from the persecutors. We are called terrorists by the western press, while they turn a deaf ear to the massacres that take place daily in our refugee camps. A thousand Palestinians can be murdered and no one takes up our cause. But if one Jew is killed, then every television, radio and newspaper around the world, is blaring the headlines of the assault.”

  Abdullah paced the floor as he continued with his speech. “And who in the Arab world has come to our rescue? Not the Syrians, nor the Egyptians, or any of the oil rich countries, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, and of course the richest of all Saudi Arabia. As the oil sheiks build palaces to live in, and fly in their multi-million dollar jets, they turn a blind eye to the plight that our people have to endure. These countries are awash in billions of dollars a year, and virtually nothing is given to reduce the pain and suffering of the Palestinians. If these Arab countries gave one percent of their oil revenues in humanitarian aid, they could change the lives of a million Palestinians. This has not, and will not happen. That is why we will have to take up the cause for the Palestinian people, and bring them the justice they deserve.”

  Abdullah Khamayseh paused as he viewed the group. He continued, not changing his tone or showing any emotion. “We must be prepared at every level to strike at the heart of the enemy until they meet our demands. Therefore, Ahman and I have a plan that will place Allāh’s soldiers within the United States. When the proper time comes we will strike at the soft underbelly of the infidels. This is why I’ve asked for this meeting.”

  Abdullah stared directly into Nasih’s eyes. “Your uncle and I have agreed to send you to England for the completion of your education. There you’ll have an unfortunate accident and the badly burned body of Nasih Mahmoud Rahman will be returned to your family for burial. You’ll then assume the name of a Jew and will start your clandestine endeavor. Once you have your degree, we’ll be sending you to the United States under your new identity.”

  Nasih was adamant as he rose to his feet. “I’m never going to be a Jew. I’m a Palestinian and a follower of Islam. This is blasphemy to my soul and to my parents’ memory.”

  Ahman held up his hand to stop his nephew’s rambling. “Nasih, we’re not asking you to become a Jew. We’re asking you to disguise yourself as a Jew, only to infiltrate their society in America. New York City and South Florida are two areas in the United States that have concentrated Jewish populations. We have targeted South Florida because it is easier to disguise our intentions. We’ll strike when it’s the proper time.”

  Nasih reluctantly sat down as Ahman and Abdullah mapped out their plan.

  Abdullah continued. “We’ve spent thousands of hours researching Jewish orphans in England. We’ll provide each of you with one of three identities, taken from Jewish boys. These Jewish orphans are too old to get adopted and this will facilitate our plan. They’re approximately your ages and with the help of minor plastic surgery, you will closely resemble their facial features. With little or no family or friends, the Jews’ disappearance will not be readily noticed. Most will think they just relocated.”

  As they formulated the plan, Nasih realized the brilliance of the scheme and was able to reconcile within his heart the mission he was being chosen to accomplish.

  “Nasih,” said Abdullah, “you will assume the name of Jonah Meyerson, born in the London Borough of Hillingdon. We will have you attend Hadlow College in Kent, England and your major will be commercial horticulture.”

  Abdullah pointed to each of the boys. “You’ll be given the forged birth certificates and the necessary documents. Upon completion of your university degrees, you’ll apply for British Passports and student visas in the United States to do your graduate studies. There should be no difficulty getting the visas by using the schools in England as your sponsors.”

  Abdullah again directed his attention to Nasih. “Your graduate work will take place at the University of Florida in Gainesville. They have an excellent program in agriculture. We will provide you with a list of contacts that could facilitate your employment.”

  Abdullah paused before continuing, “Abdul-Aziz al Hummos, you’ll become Howard Lieberman and your study would be at the University of Cambridge’s School of Criminology. Rashad Ali Obeid, you’ll become Daniel Schonfeld and you’ll be studying at City University, which is located in London. You’ll major in Electrical Engineering and Chemistry.”

  Nasih at this point stood up. “I don’t comprehend the importance of being in the landscape and agricultural business. Abdul-Aziz and Rashad’s roles are very clear, but my education and vocation seem to be a waste. How do I contribute to the cause?”

  Ahman, who had been silent, spoke, “Nasih, you’re key in our strategy because we need someone who has access to everyday agricultural materials that can be made into explosives. We must have large buildings that can hide equipment and
provide housing for other martyrs who will be joining the cause. We need a business that allows the movement of large equipment. This can only be achieved by having a company that looks ordinary and will not raise suspicion. Agricultural and landscaping is a natural for this, especially in South Florida.”

  “I understand.” Nasih said, as he sat down, contemplated his role.

  Abdullah Khamayseh’s voice suddenly became very stern. “It is of the utmost importance that you remain separate from each other once you take on your new identities until the appropriate time. Under no circumstances will you write or record any of these plans. Everything you learn must be memorized. The world will be watching for us and attempting to disrupt our mission. Above all you must have patience.”

  Abdullah quoted from the Qur’an, As-Sajda (The Prostration, Worship, Adoration) Chapter 32 Verse 24,

  “WajaAAalna minhum a-immatan yahdoona bi-amrina lamma sabaroo wakanoo bi-ayatina yooqinoona.”

  (And We appointed, from among them, leaders, giving guidance under Our command, so long as they persevered with patience and continued to have faith in Our Signs.)

  Ahman rose to his feet to address the group. “We’ve created these three cells to facilitate our actions and they will be funded by the Muslims For Justice. Abdul-Aziz will be the First Cell, responsible for creating security firms in the United States.” Ahman pointed at Rashad. “You will be the Second Cell. With your knowledge of electronics and chemistry you’ll be able to create and detonate explosive devices using ordinary materials.”

  Ahman walked over to his nephew, putting his arm around him and said, “Nasih, you’ll be the Third Cell, responsible for the overall logistics, including the time and the place for taking the hostages.”

  Abdullah interjected. “We’ll contact you when necessary through an intermediary. The Muslims For Justice will never make direct contact.”