Nelson Demille - The Panther

Bulus ibn al-Darwish did not fear death, but he did fear capture, especially at the hands of the Americans, his former compatriots. He feared prison, he feared torture, he feared the humiliation of having his family in America-his father, his mother, his sister-seeing him kept like an animal in an American prison.

Death was far better, and to die during jihad would assure his immediate ascension into Paradise. But there was no guarantee of death in battle.

If he were taken prisoner, the entire jihadist movement in Yemen would suffer or collapse. So for that reason, and because God willed him to stay alive and free to fight the Crusaders, he could not join the attack.

But he did intend to be there to join in the victory, and to oversee the execution of the survivors.

He motioned for his men to be silent, and he said to them, “I will be with you at the moment of victory.” He drew his jambiyah from its sheath-still stained with the blood of the Belgians-and raised it high. “I will join you in cutting the throats of all who fall into our hands. No mercy! No prisoners!”

The men cheered wildly.

Captain Zuhair tilted his head toward Lieutenant al-Rashid and whispered, “He does know how to cut throats.”

Al-Rashid nodded.

Bulus ibn al-Darwish turned and faced toward the Kaaba in Mecca, raised his arms, and called out, “God is great!”

“God is great!”

“Let us now pray.”

It was not the time of the dawn salat, though the dua-the prayers for supplication in times of crisis or danger-could be said at any time, so Bulus ibn al-Darwish sat cross-legged facing Mecca, as did his men, and he recited from the Koran, “ ‘When the heavens are stripped away, the stars are strewn, the seas boil over, the tombs burst open, then shall each soul know what it has given and what it has held back.’ ”

The Panther then said, “Let each man now pray silently to God for strength, for courage, and for victory in battle.”

Again the desert went silent, except for the wind from the Empty Quarter.

Bulus ibn al-Darwish prayed silently, beseeching God to give his men courage. He prayed, too, for himself and said, “Let me cut many American throats this night.”

But as often happened when he prayed for American deaths-such as before the Cole attack-other thoughts intruded into his prayers and his mind; thoughts of his childhood and school years in America. Thoughts of his family, and his former home.

These were troubling thoughts, confused memories, and they weighed heavily on his soul.

He had not been happy in America, but he was happy now in the land of his ancestors. Yemen was ancient and once pure, and he would make it pure again.

He looked up at the wondrous desert sky, a sky that had not changed since the days of his forefathers-since the day of Creation. He vowed, “The land of Yemen shall be as clean and pure as the sky above it.”

And God spoke to him: “You, Bulus ibn al-Darwish, will be the savior of Yemen and Islam.”

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and looked up to see Captain Zuhair, who said softly, “If you have a moment, sir, before I move the men to battle.”

The Panther stood and followed Captain Zuhair into a mud hut.

Inside the small hut, lit by a single candle, was Lieutenant al-Rashid.

Captain Zuhair began, “I am confident, sir, in total victory tonight.” He paused, then said, “But I must report to you, sir, that I have just received, by cell phone, some information from our friend who is inside the American compound.” Zuhair continued, “This man reports that the Americans and their security forces, who number perhaps thirty, are arming themselves and their laborers, including our friend, and they are preparing themselves for an attack.”

The Panther stood quietly in the dark and did not reply. Could this be true? Or could it be that Captain Zuhair was losing his courage?

Captain Zuhair suggested, “Perhaps, sir, we should delay this attack until another night. Perhaps a week. The men can train further. Also, sir, we should consider adding more fighters to the force.”

Again The Panther stayed silent, but then he said, “We attack tonight. And we cannot add any men to this force.” He reminded Captain Zuhair, “Forty men are as of this moment making their way to Aden to attack the Sheraton Hotel, and to kill the American soldiers and spies who live there. Another forty will soon be on their way to Sana’a to attack the American Embassy. And that, Captain, is all the fighters we have in the camp.”

“This is true, sir. But perhaps we should not divide our forces. Perhaps we should concentrate our forces on the American oil installation to ensure a complete and rapid victory.”

The Panther had already discussed this with Captain Zuhair, and now the man was speaking of it again-on the eve of battle.

The Panther said with some annoyance and authority, “I have made the decision to attack on three fronts. This will cause the government to react with fear and confusion. They will not know when or where to expect another attack, and they will become paralyzed with indecision, and they will begin arguing with the Americans, who always want action and decision.”

Captain Zuhair had no reply.

The Panther reminded Captain Zuhair, “I have told you this before.” Then he reminded the captain, “The Americans are arrogant and the government is cowardly. You will see both when these attacks are successful.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you had been here after the attack on the Cole, you would understand what I am saying and doing.”

Like all bad generals, Zuhair thought, this one is reliving his victories and forgetting his defeats. But Zuhair said, “Yes, sir.”

The Panther turned to Lieutenant al-Rashid and commanded, “Speak. What do you say?”

Sayid al-Rashid said nothing, but then drew a deep breath and said, “I can certainly see the concerns of Captain Zuhair, but…” He glanced at Zuhair, then said to The Panther, “But I can also see that what you say, sir, is true.”

The Panther nodded.

Al-Rashid continued cautiously, “We… Captain Zuhair and I are simple soldiers, sir, and we think of tactics. But you, sir, know of strategy. And it is an excellent strategy. To throw fear into the government and cause strife within the government-”

“And between the government and the Americans.”

“Yes, sir. And of course, our victory tonight will be all the greater because of your leadership and planning.”

The Panther nodded curtly, then said, “If there is nothing further, I suggest you speak to each man now to be certain they understand the plan of attack.” He also said, “You will say nothing of what you have just said to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He reminded them, “It is six kilometers to the oil installation, and if you start now, you will be there in less than two hours.” He ordered, “The attack must be completed at least two hours before dawn so that we may withdraw into the hill camp under the cover of night.”

Both men replied, “Yes, sir,” then Captain Zuhair said, “Nabeel would like a word with you.”

“Now?”

“He says it is important.”

“All right. Tell him to come in.” He also ordered, “You stay.”

Lieutenant al-Rashid ducked out of the hut and returned seconds later with Nabeel al-Samad, a junior aide to The Panther.

The Panther looked at his aide in the dim light of the candle. Nabeel, like himself, had lived in America, though Nabeel was an occasional visitor who went there only for business-Al Qaeda business. And also to deliver a verbal message now and then to the family of Bulus ibn al-Darwish, and to bring a message in return from his father, mother, and sister. Nabeel had already done this three days before, so what now did he want?