Nelson Demille: The Panther

Hakim replied, “I asked that very question of the Al Qaeda survivor, but he did not know.”

Right. The Panther kept things to himself. Which was why he was still alive.

Hakim said to me and Brenner, “I have no radio message from my men that they are encountering any Al Qaeda forces on the way to the Crow Fortress.”

That’s because the Al Qaeda forces in the camp have been turned into hamburger by the U.S. Air Force, but that was none of Hakim’s business.

Recalling that the Bedouin in the courtyard of the Crow Fortress had taken a sudden dislike toward us, I said to Hakim, “We know that there was also a Bedouin survivor of this attack who called his friends at the Crow Fortress to report what happened here.” I asked, “Where is this man?”

Hakim informed us, “Unfortunately, he died of his wounds.”

I asked, “Hellfire wounds or a bullet wound in his head?”

To set the record straight, and set me straight, Colonel Hakim replied, “It makes no difference.”

This guy was a cold, hard sonofabitch.

Colonel Hakim continued, “We have made this arrangement-the Americans and my government-and it has been a successful arrangement.”

I replied, “You have your dead sheik, but I don’t think we have our dead Panther.”

Hakim replied, “I think you do, but if you do not, that is no fault of mine and no fault of my government.”

Right. It’s Chet’s fault. In fact, Chet got hustled by the Yemeni government. They knew they’d get their dead sheik, and they didn’t care if the Americans got their dead Panther. Now we were on the Bedouin shit list forever, and The Panther was still out there.

I said to Hakim, “Is this Al Qaeda survivor still alive or did he die of a bullet wound?”

Hakim replied, “I believe he is still alive.”

Hakim was still trying to work the deal, but he didn’t have much left to offer. Nevertheless, I said, “If the Al Qaeda man is still alive, and if we can speak to him, then our arrangement has not changed.” You’re still not getting shit.

Colonel Hakim nodded and led us toward one of the blue trucks.

We climbed into the open truck and on the floor was an older man with a white beard who didn’t look as lucky as he was. Also, he didn’t look like a jihadist. He looked more like a Bedouin, but he was naked, so it was hard to tell by the clothing.

Someone had bandaged him up, and his wounds didn’t look too bad, and he had no burn marks on him, so he hadn’t been too close to the blasts. He seemed to be shivering, and I thought a blanket would be a good idea, but the NSB and the PSO weren’t famous for taking care of wounded prisoners, as I saw at Ghumdan.

There were bench seats in the truck, and Colonel Hakim invited us to sit, which we did, and he sat opposite us.

The wounded man was semi-conscious, but Hakim got his attention by kicking him.

The man opened his eyes, and Hakim said something to him in Arabic, and the man answered.

The man apparently wanted water, and Hakim called out to an NSB guy, who came in with a canteen and poured water on the old guy’s face, then Hakim took the canteen.

Hakim said to us, “This man calls himself Altair, which means soaring eagle.”

The guy looked more like a dying duck, but whatever.

Hakim told us, “That is his Al Qaeda name, and he will not give his true name unless he believes he is going to die. Then he asks that we tell his family of his fate.”

Altair was looking at me and Brenner now, and I had the impression he didn’t like us. Probably something to do with the Hellfire missiles.

I said to Hakim, “He doesn’t look like a jihadist.”

Hakim informed us, “Altair, who I know by name, is a senior advisor to al-Darwish.” He added, “A friend of the al-Darwish family. And perhaps not truly Al Qaeda.”

Interesting. And what did he advise The Panther about taking this meeting?

Brenner had the same thought and said to Hakim, “Ask him why he came here if he thought the Americans were not here and that this meeting could be a trap.”

Hakim informed us, “I have already asked that of him, and he tells me that he did not believe that information from the Bedouin called Yasir.”

I guess not, or he wouldn’t be lying here all fucked up.

I asked Hakim, “Did Altair get that call directly from Yasir?”

Hakim again said, “I have asked him and he says no, he received that message from one of his jihadists who received the call from Yasir.”

Right. And where would Yasir get the cell phone number of an Al Qaeda jihadist? Let me think. Well, maybe from the same person who gave Yasir those photographs. I asked, “Did Yasir make this call to a man named Nabeel al-Samad?”

Hakim replied, “In fact, it was that man.” He added, “How do you know this?”

“I’m a detective.” I asked Hakim, “Was this message, this warning, passed on to al-Darwish?”

Hakim replied, “Of course. Altair told me he delivered it personally.”

“And were the jihadists told of this warning?”

Hakim looked down at Altair, then said to me, “He has told me that the jihadists were told, but I am not sure of Altair’s truthfulness.”

Right. The Panther kept this to himself, and the only one who acted on this warning was The Panther. In fact, he sent a double in his place, and he used his men to see what would happen at the meeting. If it wasn’t a trap, and if the Americans were at the meeting to be bought, then all was well. If, however, it was a trap, then all it cost The Panther to discover that was about a dozen of his men. No big deal for The Panther, who wasted his men’s lives for the cause-the cause being Bulus ibn al-Darwish’s greater glory.

But The Panther had sent at least one senior advisor-Altair, a friend of the family. Why would al-Darwish do that? Maybe he was willing to risk the senior guy for appearances at the meeting. And Altair, apparently, was willing to take the risk for his boss. And if the meeting was legit, then Altair would advise The Panther’s double on how to do the deal with Sheik Musa.

Brenner, too, concluded, “Altair was willing to take a big risk for his boss, and his boss was willing to send Altair and his men into what was sounding like a trap.”

Right. The Panther really wanted the Americans, and he didn’t care who he had to put at risk to get them-as long as it wasn’t himself.

Recalling what Rahim ibn Hayyam told us at Ghumdan Fortress, about his boss’s leadership style, I said to Hakim, “Tell this guy that his chief is a coward. That he sends his men into danger, but he hides in a cave, like he did when his jihadists attacked the Hunt Oil installation. Tell Altair he owes no loyalty to al-Darwish.”

Hakim nodded and translated that, and Altair replied by spitting at me. And then he had the nerve to ask for more water. So Colonel Hakim, the soul of compassion, poured the rest of the canteen on Altair’s face. Good practice for waterboarding.

I said to Hakim, “I assume you’ve asked this guy where The Panther is right now.”

“Of course, and he tells me he does not know.”

“You believe that?”

Hakim shrugged and said, “Only a very few people would know the hiding place of The Panther.”

Right. And a guy like Altair might be one of those people. I changed the subject and said to Hakim, “Ask him if Nabeel al-Samad was here.”

Altair understood the name and so understood the question, and replied to Hakim, who told us, “Nabeel al-Samad was not here.”

Bummer. I wanted Nabeel’s balls in a Ziploc bag. But I’d find him someday. Maybe back in New York.

Brenner, combat vet, wanted to know, “Where was Altair when the Hellfires hit?”

Hakim asked and Altair replied. Hakim smiled and said, “The old man had the need to urinate and so he went off behind the stone fence to do this. He says he was spared by God.”