apparently satisfied. The lock on Ahmed’s arms abruptly released, and the voice spoke again. “This way.”
The two men moved ahead and, with his vision adjusting to the dark, Ahmed followed the shapes becoming clear before him. As his racing heartbeat returned to normal, he gave silent thanks that he hadn’t embarrassed himself by acting like a scared little girl before what he presumed was his personal collection of spies.
Ahmed followed the man through another door and into a dimly lit basement storage room. Three more men were waiting. Now, he thought, now it begins. Suddenly, he was no longer tired.
The man who had grabbed him turned and spoke. “Welcome, brother. We are your team. My name is Saif, and we await your orders.” The man had broad shoulders and the look of a bodybuilder. Ahmed guessed Saif was in his mid-to late twenties, which probably made him the oldest of the group of young men.
Ahmed caught his breath, painfully aware that despite the fact that he was the amateur in the room, they were waiting for him to take charge, because he was supposed to be in charge. “Why don’t we start by each of you telling me where you work and how you came to the cause.”
They were all Bahraini Sunni, but not from the wealthiest families. They were from the second tier of Bahraini society, for whom good higher education was hard to come by, for whom good jobs were scarcer yet. Three had gone to religious training in Riyadh four and five years earlier. There they’d been recruited and sent back to Bahrain, where they had brought in two old friends.
“We are a small cell, but we believe there are other cells,” the one who was their leader, Saif bin Razaq, said. Ahmed said nothing. “Our strength is in the nature of our penetrations,” Saif continued, pointing to each man in turn. “We work at the travel office at the American Navy base, the telephone switching center for overseas calls, the Foreign Ministry, the airport, and I work at an Iranian import/export office in Sitra. It is actually a front for the Qods Force.”
“But why do you run these risks for us? What do you hope for?” Ahmed asked, straining to see the faces of the five zealots in the dim light.
“Not for you, Doctor, for Allah,” Fadl, the youngest-looking one, said softly. “We want Bahrain to be part of the new Islamyah. Now Bahrain is run by one family, who are Sunnis, yes, but they are threatened by the Shi’a majority here.”
“Iran is helping the Shi’a,” Saif joined in. “The mullahs have sworn that they will add Bahrain to Iran, just as the Shah wanted to do thirty years ago. Liberate the majority Shi’a from oppression. Tppt. ” He spit on the floor. “From here they will move on the Eastern Province of Islamyah, where they say they will go to liberate the Shi’a majority there, too, but really they just want to seize the oil.”
“If Bahrain can become part of the greater Islamyah, we Sunnis here will be part of the majority of a great new Muslim nation, which can hold back the Persian forces,” Fadl finished the thought.
“The Persians have a very long memory and an equally long time horizon,” Ahmed responded. “They think that if they wait, and keep their hand in, these things will fall to them like ripened figs from the trees.”
“No, Doctor, they do not plan to wait.” Saif was excited. “This is the news we have for you! They are working on something big in the month of first Jamada. This is why they do these bombings now in Manama and blame it on us.” Saif pulled out an American newspaper. “Look at these lies that they spread, look here: ‘The work of Islamyah’s terrorist cells,’ they say!”
“Do you know for certain the bombings were done by the Persians?” Ahmed asked, taking the copy of USA Today.
“As I said, Doctor, I work in the building that is the front company for al Qods, the Iranian special services. I repair their photocopier and the printers.” He smiled for the
The two men moved ahead and, with his vision adjusting to the dark, Ahmed followed the shapes becoming clear before him. As his racing heartbeat returned to normal, he gave silent thanks that he hadn’t embarrassed himself by acting like a scared little girl before what he presumed was his personal collection of spies.
Ahmed followed the man through another door and into a dimly lit basement storage room. Three more men were waiting. Now, he thought, now it begins. Suddenly, he was no longer tired.
The man who had grabbed him turned and spoke. “Welcome, brother. We are your team. My name is Saif, and we await your orders.” The man had broad shoulders and the look of a bodybuilder. Ahmed guessed Saif was in his mid-to late twenties, which probably made him the oldest of the group of young men.
Ahmed caught his breath, painfully aware that despite the fact that he was the amateur in the room, they were waiting for him to take charge, because he was supposed to be in charge. “Why don’t we start by each of you telling me where you work and how you came to the cause.”
They were all Bahraini Sunni, but not from the wealthiest families. They were from the second tier of Bahraini society, for whom good higher education was hard to come by, for whom good jobs were scarcer yet. Three had gone to religious training in Riyadh four and five years earlier. There they’d been recruited and sent back to Bahrain, where they had brought in two old friends.
“We are a small cell, but we believe there are other cells,” the one who was their leader, Saif bin Razaq, said. Ahmed said nothing. “Our strength is in the nature of our penetrations,” Saif continued, pointing to each man in turn. “We work at the travel office at the American Navy base, the telephone switching center for overseas calls, the Foreign Ministry, the airport, and I work at an Iranian import/export office in Sitra. It is actually a front for the Qods Force.”
“But why do you run these risks for us? What do you hope for?” Ahmed asked, straining to see the faces of the five zealots in the dim light.
“Not for you, Doctor, for Allah,” Fadl, the youngest-looking one, said softly. “We want Bahrain to be part of the new Islamyah. Now Bahrain is run by one family, who are Sunnis, yes, but they are threatened by the Shi’a majority here.”
“Iran is helping the Shi’a,” Saif joined in. “The mullahs have sworn that they will add Bahrain to Iran, just as the Shah wanted to do thirty years ago. Liberate the majority Shi’a from oppression. Tppt. ” He spit on the floor. “From here they will move on the Eastern Province of Islamyah, where they say they will go to liberate the Shi’a majority there, too, but really they just want to seize the oil.”
“If Bahrain can become part of the greater Islamyah, we Sunnis here will be part of the majority of a great new Muslim nation, which can hold back the Persian forces,” Fadl finished the thought.
“The Persians have a very long memory and an equally long time horizon,” Ahmed responded. “They think that if they wait, and keep their hand in, these things will fall to them like ripened figs from the trees.”
“No, Doctor, they do not plan to wait.” Saif was excited. “This is the news we have for you! They are working on something big in the month of first Jamada. This is why they do these bombings now in Manama and blame it on us.” Saif pulled out an American newspaper. “Look at these lies that they spread, look here: ‘The work of Islamyah’s terrorist cells,’ they say!”
“Do you know for certain the bombings were done by the Persians?” Ahmed asked, taking the copy of USA Today.
“As I said, Doctor, I work in the building that is the front company for al Qods, the Iranian special services. I repair their photocopier and the printers.” He smiled for the
Similar Books
