The Panther

“I suppose because we want him alive. To interrogate him.”

“So we’re not really turning him over to the Yemeni government. Our job is to kill his bodyguards, take him alive, and sneak him out of the country for interrogation.”

“You’ll be briefed over there.” He added, “As I said, you’ll be part of a team.”

Kate asked, “Who is on this team?”

“I have no idea.”

Kate had an important question. “If we’re detained by the Yemeni government, who comes to our aid?”

“The embassy. You’ll both have diplomatic immunity, of course.”

Love that diplomatic immunity. It works about half the time when you get caught breaking the local laws. The other half of the time, the embassy can’t seem to remember your name.

I thought I understood one reason why Kate and I were chosen to participate in what amounted to a Black Ops mission. It had to do with my cover and Kate’s cover. Officially, the U.S. was there only to aid the Yemeni security forces in investigating the Cole bombing, and our FBI personnel, people like me, rotated into and out of the country on a regular basis. As long as we kept the numbers small and didn’t stay too long, the Yemeni government was okay with Americans operating on their soil.

Most of the Americans doing anti-terrorist work were attached to the embassy for cover-as Kate would be-so that the Yemeni government could take the public position that their country hadn’t become an American ally or outpost. In fact, if the USS Cole hadn’t been bombed in Aden Harbor, we wouldn’t have anyone in Yemen except a small embassy staff. But now we had our foot in the door-or in this case, the Yemenis had let the camel get his nose under the tent. But they didn’t want the whole camel sleeping inside.

And for all those reasons, the CIA was not welcome, but a few CIA officers were tolerated.

I asked Tom, “Is the CIA involved in this operation?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out when you get there.”

“I’m sure we will.” I reminded him, “You said this guy was Al Qaeda.”

“Did I?” Tom fessed up, “He’s actually the head of the Yemen branch of a newly formed group called Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula-AQAP.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

He reminded me, “You have no need to know this now, and you didn’t hear it from me. When you get there, you’ll know more than I know. But I will tell you that this guy is wanted for other crimes aside from the Cole bombing.”

“Such as?”

“The usual. Murder, kidnapping, conspiracy, and so forth.” Tom added, “He’s killed a lot of people-Yemenis, Europeans, and Saudis-before and after the Cole.” He let us know, “Most terrorist activities in Yemen can be traced to The Panther.”

“Bad dude,” I observed.

“One of the worst,” Tom agreed. He added, “And a traitor to his country.”

“He’s an asshole.” I asked, “Is there a bounty on this guy’s head?”

“The Justice Department is offering five million.”

“Not bad. Dead or alive?”

“Either.”

“How much do we get to keep?”

“None of it.” He reminded us, “You get a paycheck every two weeks.”

“Will the Justice Department use the reward money to spring us if we wind up kidnapped or in a Yemeni jail?”

He replied, “I’ll make sure of that for Kate.” He smiled. “You’re on your own.”

I smiled in return. Tom can be funny. Especially when the joke is on me. I asked him, “Are you going to miss me?”

“No.”

He stood, and we stood. He said to us, “Make sure you go to the Medical Office today, and call the Travel Office. I’ve asked Legal Affairs to assist you with whatever you need. Also, I’ll set up a meeting for you with the Office of International Affairs-for a cultural awareness briefing.”

Oh, God. Not that. Before my last trip to Yemen, I’d managed to avoid this four-hour State Department lecture, but I’d heard about it from other guys who’d had to sit through it. I said, “That’s cruel, Tom.”

“It’s mandatory for Kate,” he informed me, “but I know you’ll both benefit from it.” He concluded, “You have until Thursday to put your personal affairs in order. I’ll see you here Friday, ten A.M., for a final briefing and contact info in Sana’a. You leave Friday night. Any questions?”

Neither Kate nor I had any further questions, so we all shook hands and we left.

On the way to the elevator, Kate said, “I can’t believe we’re going to Yemen to capture one of the masterminds of the Cole bombing-the head of Al Qaeda in Yemen.”

She sounded excited, but maybe a little apprehensive. Indeed, this was a big deal with a big upside for us professionally, and a big victory for the home team if we got our man. The downside was also big-like, we could get killed or captured. I’ve come to terms a long time ago with getting killed. But getting captured by terrorists in a foreign country was, as they say, a fate worse than death.

“John? Are you still good with this?”

I didn’t recall ever being good with this. But I do like a challenge. And I was still pissed about how I and the other FBI agents in Yemen had been jerked around by the Yemeni police and their political security force when I was there. They were playing both sides in the Cole investigation, not letting us do our job and also tipping off the bad guys. Great allies. Actually, assholes. So this was a chance for me to shove it up their butts.

“John?”

“There is an old Arabic saying-‘It is easier to kick a camel in the balls than it is to capture a black panther who’s eating your ass.’ ”

“Do you have more of those?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Can you keep them to yourself?”

“Maybe they sound better in Arabic.”

“This is going to be a long year.”

“Be optimistic. We’ll be dead before then.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I got back to my desk, and Al Rasul informed me that he’d called downstairs, but Nabeel hadn’t shown up yet.

It was still early, so there was no reason to send a cop car to get him. I did call Nabeel’s cell phone, and it went to voice mail-Arabic and English. I left a message in English, then gave the phone to Al, who left the same message in Arabic-except Al’s tone was very sharp. He explained to me, “That’s how the police talk to citizens in Sandland.”

“Right.” Anyway, Nabeel al-Samad was the least of my priorities today, but you have to follow up on everything because sure as hell the thing you didn’t follow up on is what comes back to bite you in the ass. The people who dropped the ball on the pre-9/11 clues can verify that.

I gave Al a pencil and said, “Transliterate the Arabic word for ‘panther’ into real letters.”

“ ‘Panther’?”

“Yeah. Big black cat.”

He took a scrap of paper from my desk and said, “There are a few ways to transliterate…” He wrote, Nimr-Nimar-Numair, and said, “The last is maybe the most standard transliteration.” He pronounced the word for me.

“You need a tissue?”