The Panther

Both of these agents had listed their home address as the government building in which they work. Further inquiries revealed to me that they both are employed in the office of what is called the Anti-Terrorist Task Force.”

Again, The Panther nodded and motioned Nabeel to continue.

“This, as you may know, sir, is an internal American security agency, but the agents are sometimes sent to various places in the world-”

“Yes, I know that. They are here.”

“Yes, sir.” Nabeel continued, “The man, Corey, was in fact in Aden approximately three years ago. Now he is back.”

The Panther stayed silent awhile, then asked, “And how is this man and this woman different from the other American agents who come here?”

Nabeel informed The Panther, “These two agents have been specifically placed by name on the assassination list of the Supreme Council.”

“Yes? And why?”

“This man, sir, is the American agent who killed Asad Khalil, The Lion, in New York.”

The Panther nodded. He certainly remembered that. Was it a year ago? Perhaps less.

Nabeel reminded The Panther, “Asad Khalil had traveled to New York to kill this man, Corey, and his wife, Mayfield.”

“Yes, I recall.” But it had not gone well. Khalil was a Libyan, and he had gone to America on an earlier mission to avenge the bombing of his homeland by the Americans. He had exacted a degree of revenge, but not all that he wished. So he returned. And this time, they killed him.

Khalil was not within Al Qaeda, but he worked with Al Qaeda. And thus the Supreme Council had sought to avenge his death by calling for the assassination of this man Corey, who had killed the great jihadist, Asad Khalil, The Lion.

The Panther inquired, “Why do you think this man has come to Yemen again?”

Nabeel replied, “Perhaps, sir, to kill you.”

That came as no surprise to Bulus ibn al-Darwish. The Americans had a special hatred of Muslims who had been born or achieved citizenship in America and then joined the jihad.

The Americans, he understood from his more than twenty years in that country, were so arrogant as to believe that anyone who lived among them would come to love them and love their corrupt and licentious country. And when you did not love them, they hated you for your lack of appreciation of them and their wonderful nation. True arrogance and true vanity. Pride goeth before destruction, as it is written in the Hebrew Book of Proverbs.

And of course, the Americans in Yemen were here to avenge the killing of seventeen seamen on the American warship. And Bulus ibn al-Darwish knew from his parents and other sources that his name had been placed on what was called the CIA kill list. And this list, according to custom, or perhaps law, had to be approved by the President of the United States. That was interesting. Interesting, too, that this man Corey, who was perhaps here to kill him, was himself-along with his wife-on a similar assassination list that was approved by the Supreme Council of Al Qaeda. So the hunter and the hunted were listed for death. The question was, Who is the hunter, and who is the hunted? The answer for now is, Both are both.

Also, he knew, his mother and father had engaged an American attorney to have his name removed from the CIA list. Corey’s name would be removed from the list of the Supreme Council when he, Bulus ibn al-Darwish, killed him.

The Panther thought about all this. To him, it was an honor to have his name placed on that American list. But his mother and father-and probably his sister, who was an American-would rather see him rotting his life away in an American prison. They did not understand him because they had been too long in America. They did not understand martyrdom, and perhaps they had even ceased to believe that martyrdom in jihad earned a man his rapid ascension into Paradise. His parents, he thought, would someday go to hell.

“Sir?”

The Panther returned to the present problem and said, “So if this man and this woman are in Yemen to kill me, then they have made it convenient for me to kill them.”

Nabeel nodded, but said nothing.

It was possible, thought The Panther, that these two Americans were not here specifically to kill him, but in any case the man Corey had killed The Lion, and for that reason the Supreme Council had ordered a death sentence for him. So if he, Bulus ibn al-Darwish, could kill this American agent, he would gain great honor with the Supreme Council.

He said to Nabeel, “Kill them both.”

Nabeel nodded, then asked, “When? Where?”

“Whenever you can, wherever you can.” He added, “In Sana’a. Or in Aden if they should go there.” He thought a moment, then said, “Or in Marib, if they should come here seeking me. Take as many men as you need and kill them at the first opportunity.”

“I will see to it, sir.”

The Panther was about to dismiss Nabeel, but then Nabeel said, “I have actually met this man.”

“Yes? Where? How?”

“In New York, sir. Just last week.” Nabeel had been waiting for this moment to impress his chief with his knowledge of the enemy, and to show his usefulness in America. Nabeel enjoyed his visits to New York, and he wanted those visits to continue. He explained, “After I received this man’s name and office address from our consulate in New York, I telephoned the number on his visa application and asked to speak to John Corey with the claim that I had important information for him about terrorist activity.”

The Panther smiled and said, “Well, that is a true claim.”

Nabeel and the two Iraqis, seeing that The Panther was smiling, laughed.

Nabeel continued, “Corey came to the telephone and I explained that I had gotten his name from a man who did not wish to be identified. We spoke briefly and arranged to meet.”

The Panther asked, “At the government office?”

“No, sir. That is not the procedure for the first meeting.” Nabeel thought this could be amusing, so he had rehearsed his English and replied in that language, “The agent Corey and I arranged to meet at a Jewish delicatessen.”

The Panther smiled again, but the Iraqis spoke no English and they did not understand.

Nabeel, emboldened by his chief’s smile, continued in English, “Ben’s Jewish deli-on West three-eight.” He asked, “Do you know it, sir?”

The Panther said in English, “West Thirty-eighth Street.” He seemed no longer amused and said abruptly, in Arabic, “Tell me of this man.”

Nabeel did not want to say that the meeting was brief, or that his poor English inhibited the talk, but he did say, “The man was arrogant.”

“They are all arrogant.”

“This man more so.” Nabeel thought back to his brief meeting with the American agent and said, “He was abrupt, and his manner was that of a man who had little respect for me or those of our faith who live in America.” Nabeel wasn’t certain if that was completely true or accurate, but this is what his chief wanted to hear.

The Panther nodded and said, “Arrogant.”

Nabeel continued, “He seemed anxious to leave-it was Saturday last, and the agents do not want to work on Saturday or Sunday. So I arranged with him for me to come to this government building for a new meeting-on Monday, in the morning.” Nabeel did not mention the need for an Arabic translator.

The Panther asked, “And did you go to this meeting?”

“No, sir. That would be dangerous.”

The Panther smiled and joked, “So perhaps it is you, Nabeel, who this man is looking for in Yemen, and you who he wishes to kill.”

“No, sir, it is you. But I will kill him first.”

“You will. And his wife.” He asked, “Is that all?”

Nabeel replied, “That is all, sir. But I wish you to have this-” He reached into his fouteh, and the Iraqi officers became alert.