and study the enemy patrol patterns. Then as night settled, we took our positions and waited for the time.”
When no one asked a question, Esmaili prompted with one. “How did you feel at that moment?”
“Teacher, I was ready to fill my mission.”
“Yes, yes. But how did you
Larijani looked down. Then he raised his gaze. “I was afraid that I might fail to do my part.” He swallowed. “I did not want to disappoint anyone.”
Esmaili was taken aback. He did not expect so honest a response. He modulated his voice. “Yes, go on.”
The novitiate seemed to relax a little. “When we got the order to fire, I was looking at a sentry on the far wall. I placed him in my sight and fired.”
Hazim finally spoke. “What was your firing position?”
“I was sitting with my Dragunov resting on the edge of the wall.”
“Did you hit your target?”
Larijani hesitated for two heartbeats. “I believe so.”
Esmaili interjected. “You do not know? What about your spotter?”
“Well, I did not have a trained spotter. Just the security men from Beirut.”
“How many times did you fire?”
The shooter thought for a long moment. “Four or five times.”
Esmaili’s voice held an edge. “A trained sniper should know if it was four or five. Which was it?”
“I… I think it was five. Yes, five.”
Nobody believed him.
Hazim asked the obvious question. “How many targets did you hit?”
Larijani bit his lip. “It was dark and I had no spotter.” He glanced away. “Maybe two or three.”
Esmaili was pulled in two directions. He could further humiliate the boy by stating that a trained marksman could call his shots even without a spotter to confirm the hits. The steadiness of the sight picture and the precision of the trigger release would tell a good shooter all he needed to know.
On the other hand, Larijani had been selected to die and for whatever reason — fate, coincidence, God — he had been spared. Whether he had dispatched two or three enemies, or more likely none, he had done his duty.
“Perhaps we will receive more information from our brothers in Beirut,” Esmaili purred. “But for the present, we can take the experience of Larijani and apply it to our own work when the time comes.”
Before rising, Esmaili locked eyes with Hazim. For anyone who cared to notice, the status quo ante had been restored.
Part 4
THE MISSION
22
Major Fahed Ayash provided the briefing almost before the SSI team had settled into temporary quarters.
“Welcome to Hasbaya, gentlemen. You will not be here very long but Lieutenant Colonel Leopole and I expect that some of you will be in and out of here, rotating from your militia areas. Therefore it is helpful for you to know something of the city.
“As you saw on the way in, Hasbaya is built on hills near Mount Hermon, sited around a tributary of the Hasbani River. The current population is about thirty thousand, and the local industries include grapes for wine and olive oil. Since you will be working with the Druze militia, you should know that a few kilometers northeast is the pilgrimage site of al Bayyada with its old praying halls.
“History is everywhere. Near Habbariye lie the ruins of a Roman temple with walls twenty-five feet high.” He gave a sardonic smile. “It says something that one of the newest tourist spots is the mosque with a distinctive hexagonal minaret. It was built in the thirteenth century.
“Otherwise, there’s the Chihabi Citadel from the Crusades in the eleventh century, plus the Chehab Palace.
“We’re not far from Syria. Damascus is only about thirty-five miles east, and the border is much closer. That is why your training mission is so important. The militias in the area are under increasing pressure from Hezbollah elements backed by Syria as well as Iran.”
Ayash turned to an easel with a map of the region. “Your primary operating areas are south and east of here, at the villages of Amasha and El-Arian. They are fairly small but their positions are important because they command obvious routes from the border, continuing farther inland to the south.” He paused for effect. “Obviously, that means toward Israel.”
Frank Leopole relieved Ayash at the front of the room, taking in the crowd of operators. He noted that most held rifles or carbines and some had sidearms as well. After the Beirut episode, he had recommended that everyone go armed everywhere, and the proliferation of AKs and Galils attested to the acceptance of his wisdom. Robert Pitney seemed content with his Springfield XD, but Leopole conceded that the speed shooter could do more with a pistol than many operators could accomplish with a rifle.
“Today we’re going to split up into two units,” Leopole began. “Partly that’s so each team can start focusing on its specific mission, and partly for security.” He did not have to elaborate. Bosco and Breezy exchanged hoo-ah glances, acknowledging that if one team was attacked before deploying to its village, the other would remain intact to accomplish its mission.
“I’ll take Team One to Amasha and Chris will have Team Two at El-Arian. Major Ayash will float between them as needed, and coordinate with our IDF liaison out of this facility.
“My team includes Bosco and Breezy, Pitney, and Barrkman. Our militia contact is Rami Hamadeh, who some of you have already met.
“Chris has Ashcroft, Green, Wallender, and Furr with Salah-Hassan Fares. He will be here tomorrow.
“Now, Barrkman and Furr. I know you sniper dudes would rather work together but we need to maximize our expertise so each of you can instruct the militia folks in your respective areas. If it becomes advisable to deploy an all-up team, we’ll pull one of you to work with the other but I hope that isn’t necessary.”
Furr folded his arms and said nothing. Barrkman slumped in his chair, clearly displeased with the decision. Neither would protest— they were far too professional for that and were being well paid besides.
Leopole turned to the map and tapped the appropriate locales. “The villes are about ten or eleven klicks apart. Depending on transport, that means we can reinforce each other in maybe ten minutes, barring en route problems. As soon as we arrive we’ll get on that contingency planning.”
Chris Nissen raised a hand. “Colonel, what’s current intel on the threat in that area?”
Leopole looked at Ayash for the answer. The Druze officer said, “It’s been a hot zone, Sergeant. And it’s likely to get hotter.”
Imam Elham summoned Esmaili and Azizi. “You have a mission.”
Esmaili absorbed the sentiment.
The cleric eased himself into a sitting position against a stone wall. “Your task is one of deception. We know that the infidels expect Hezbollah to take action in this area. The geographic aspects are self-evident.” He nodded behind him, toward the Syrian border fifteen kilometers away. “Therefore, you will begin a series of small actions across a broad front. Using mortars and snipers, your group and others in this area will cause as much confusion as possible, especially among the Druze villages that command terrain features or important roads. They will know
