"Fight against those who believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, nor hold that forbidden which hath been forbidden by Allah and His Messenger, nor acknowledge the religion of Truth, (even if they are) of the People of the Book, until they pay the Jizya with willing submission, and feel themselves subdued."
Two weeks ago
Muslim District, Lakhm
Lakhm Governorate, Anbat
His submachine gun safely hanging from a sling around his neck, Sergeant Mikheil carefully peered through the door's windows into the pitch-black entry room of their target apartment, as his comrades awaiting behind him on the stairway kept their guns trained upon their surroundings to cover every avenue of attack.
The door to what a rough sketch of the target had told them was the living room was open, and after the doorway he glimpsed what could have been a part of a couch. They had been told to expect five subjects inside, two adults in one of the bedrooms, the main subject and two children in another. No movement in sight, Mikheil noted to himself, and raised the thumb of his right hand towards his team leader behind him as an inaudible signal. The hold of his left hand tightened around his weapon's pistol grip as Mikheil felt the adrenaline in his veins.
* * *
A couple of quarters away in an unmarked Police jeep, Lieutenant Yusef's radio crackled into life as the leader of the entry team gave a "ready to go" report over the encoded radio frequency. Knowing that everything was in place, he gazed at the illuminated board of his wristwatch. It was nearly four in the morning, the time agreed upon beforehand.
Yusef didn't command the whole operation. Major Qaboosh Mashal, head of the Republican Police's Department of Activities Against Terrorism and Subversion for the Lakhm Governorate, exercised overall control from the Lakhm Police Headquarters. Republican and local policemen formed the bulk of the operation, and would be responsible for seizing the fourteen Islamic Brotherhood members picked as targets. Yusef's men and the Intelligence Ministry officers assigned as their support team would be responsible for the main catch.
He hadn't exactly been thrilled when Battalion had seconded his team to Major Mashal for the operation, as Yusef didn't like working with policemen. Still, he had to adapt to their orders, and had resolved to find a positive side in that his unit usually did not get a lot of work in a relatively peaceful locale as Lakhm. This was a breeze compared to their last operation up north in Subay against Islamist militants, even if Yusef knew that the men they were about to target would undoubtedly be as deluded by their faith in their false creed as those hardened killers calling themselves Islamic Formation mujahideen. But what they'd have in faith they'd lack in skill. None of them would know what hit them.
Lieutenant Yusef reviewed the plan in his head: The entry teams that had infiltrated the vicinity of the four target buildings through the dense back alleys of this portion of the Muslim District would storm their targets simultaneously, immobilizing the men each team had been assigned to capture as well as any others in the buildings. After that, the vehicle-borne support teams waiting farther away would move in to evacuate the targets and to conduct a preliminary sweep of the locations for evidence and weapons. Lakhm was fairly secure a city, so there was no indication that his men would be at risk at any phase after taking control of their targets.
Yusef raised his radio phone to his mouth, and pressed the "talk" button.
"All teams, commence."
* * *
The fist raised by his team leader behind him gave Mikheil the cue to break open the door window with his baton end and to reach inside, quickly finding the door handle and opening the front door to the apartment. Reminding himself of the brief period of time an element of surprise tended to last, he holstered the baton, then turning on the tactical flashlight attached to the barrel of his submachine gun and taking hold of the foregrip of his weapon.
Broken glass cracking underneath the pressure of the combat boots of Marwan and his comrades, the six-man team entered the living room of the apartment, scanning with their MP5's in all directions for any possible threats. Noting to himself that he neither heard or saw anything from the right, where the two bedrooms of the apartment were, Mikheil could only conclude that the inhabitants were far too talented at sleeping for their own good. Mikheil shifted right, leading the rest of the team towards their target.
They simultaneously entered the bedrooms of the apartment - Mikheil and three others to the room where the primary subject was with two of his siblings, and the remaining two to the room where the owning couple of the apartment was. Mikheil found their target in his bed, waking up to the sound of movement and to the sight of flashlights and automatic weapons pointing directly at him. Before the target, a young man, could react, Mikheil shouted "Subject visible!" over the screams of his younger siblings who were now waking up to the situation. Two of his comrades swarmed upon the man, forcing him down on the bed.
The present
Al-Hirmil Maximum Security Prison
Phezzan Governorate, Anbat
Besides assorted screams of pain, the shahada was the only thing that the government men had gotten out of Ahmed during the two weeks when he'd been held in custody, and Ahmed prided himself upon that fact. He was just a nineteen year old, and since his elder brother had introduced him to the other members of their group, he had wondered whether or not he would be able to handle the things he'd heard the government men do to their prisoners. Now he knew.
From the stretcher where he was firmly held down by cuffs attached to his wrists and legs, and on which he'd been again taken from his solitary cell to this room of torture, Ahmed glimpsed figures in green guard uniforms - one with a bucket in hand - entering the room. The government men wanted information about their group, and Ahmed did not know if the three of his comrades already in custody had talked. They said that they had, but he did not want to believe these Christians, sure that their words were lies just how Abu Zaid had told him and the others. Still, he did not know how long he could continue this way.
"I am not going to tell you anything", Ahmed said wearily as the uniformed guards surrounded him, as he had done in previous times even if that had not prevented them from torturing him, "This you should know by now."
As a response came a spit from one of the guards, who could not have been no more than three or four years older than him, upon his face and a shout, "Shut up, you Muslim dog!".
Another one threw a blanket over Ahmed's head, and he felt the spit spreading across his left cheek, though the notice of that soon gave way to the knowledge that something else was coming. He saw nothing, but he heard a water tap being turned on, and the laughs of his captors. This wouldn't be the first time they'd waterboarded him, nor would it probably be the last. At least it would be better than the electric batons.
And even if Ahmed would die in this miserable place, he knew that he would be a martyr.
Two weeks ago
Muslim District, Lakhm
Lakhm Governorate, Anbat
His submachine gun safely hanging from a sling around his neck, Sergeant Mikheil carefully peered through the door's windows into the pitch-black entry room of their target apartment, as his comrades awaiting behind him on the stairway kept their guns trained upon their surroundings to cover every avenue of attack.
The door to what a rough sketch of the target had told them was the living room was open, and after the doorway he glimpsed what could have been a part of a couch. They had been told to expect five subjects inside, two adults in one of the bedrooms, the main subject and two children in another. No movement in sight, Mikheil noted to himself, and raised the thumb of his right hand towards his team leader behind him as an inaudible signal. The hold of his left hand tightened around his weapon's pistol grip as Mikheil felt the adrenaline in his veins.
* * *
A couple of quarters away in an unmarked Police jeep, Lieutenant Yusef's radio crackled into life as the leader of the entry team gave a "ready to go" report over the encoded radio frequency. Knowing that everything was in place, he gazed at the illuminated board of his wristwatch. It was nearly four in the morning, the time agreed upon beforehand.
Yusef didn't command the whole operation. Major Qaboosh Mashal, head of the Republican Police's Department of Activities Against Terrorism and Subversion for the Lakhm Governorate, exercised overall control from the Lakhm Police Headquarters. Republican and local policemen formed the bulk of the operation, and would be responsible for seizing the fourteen Islamic Brotherhood members picked as targets. Yusef's men and the Intelligence Ministry officers assigned as their support team would be responsible for the main catch.
He hadn't exactly been thrilled when Battalion had seconded his team to Major Mashal for the operation, as Yusef didn't like working with policemen. Still, he had to adapt to their orders, and had resolved to find a positive side in that his unit usually did not get a lot of work in a relatively peaceful locale as Lakhm. This was a breeze compared to their last operation up north in Subay against Islamist militants, even if Yusef knew that the men they were about to target would undoubtedly be as deluded by their faith in their false creed as those hardened killers calling themselves Islamic Formation mujahideen. But what they'd have in faith they'd lack in skill. None of them would know what hit them.
Lieutenant Yusef reviewed the plan in his head: The entry teams that had infiltrated the vicinity of the four target buildings through the dense back alleys of this portion of the Muslim District would storm their targets simultaneously, immobilizing the men each team had been assigned to capture as well as any others in the buildings. After that, the vehicle-borne support teams waiting farther away would move in to evacuate the targets and to conduct a preliminary sweep of the locations for evidence and weapons. Lakhm was fairly secure a city, so there was no indication that his men would be at risk at any phase after taking control of their targets.
Yusef raised his radio phone to his mouth, and pressed the "talk" button.
"All teams, commence."
* * *
The fist raised by his team leader behind him gave Mikheil the cue to break open the door window with his baton end and to reach inside, quickly finding the door handle and opening the front door to the apartment. Reminding himself of the brief period of time an element of surprise tended to last, he holstered the baton, then turning on the tactical flashlight attached to the barrel of his submachine gun and taking hold of the foregrip of his weapon.
Broken glass cracking underneath the pressure of the combat boots of Marwan and his comrades, the six-man team entered the living room of the apartment, scanning with their MP5's in all directions for any possible threats. Noting to himself that he neither heard or saw anything from the right, where the two bedrooms of the apartment were, Mikheil could only conclude that the inhabitants were far too talented at sleeping for their own good. Mikheil shifted right, leading the rest of the team towards their target.
They simultaneously entered the bedrooms of the apartment - Mikheil and three others to the room where the primary subject was with two of his siblings, and the remaining two to the room where the owning couple of the apartment was. Mikheil found their target in his bed, waking up to the sound of movement and to the sight of flashlights and automatic weapons pointing directly at him. Before the target, a young man, could react, Mikheil shouted "Subject visible!" over the screams of his younger siblings who were now waking up to the situation. Two of his comrades swarmed upon the man, forcing him down on the bed.
The present
Al-Hirmil Maximum Security Prison
Phezzan Governorate, Anbat
Besides assorted screams of pain, the shahada was the only thing that the government men had gotten out of Ahmed during the two weeks when he'd been held in custody, and Ahmed prided himself upon that fact. He was just a nineteen year old, and since his elder brother had introduced him to the other members of their group, he had wondered whether or not he would be able to handle the things he'd heard the government men do to their prisoners. Now he knew.
From the stretcher where he was firmly held down by cuffs attached to his wrists and legs, and on which he'd been again taken from his solitary cell to this room of torture, Ahmed glimpsed figures in green guard uniforms - one with a bucket in hand - entering the room. The government men wanted information about their group, and Ahmed did not know if the three of his comrades already in custody had talked. They said that they had, but he did not want to believe these Christians, sure that their words were lies just how Abu Zaid had told him and the others. Still, he did not know how long he could continue this way.
"I am not going to tell you anything", Ahmed said wearily as the uniformed guards surrounded him, as he had done in previous times even if that had not prevented them from torturing him, "This you should know by now."
As a response came a spit from one of the guards, who could not have been no more than three or four years older than him, upon his face and a shout, "Shut up, you Muslim dog!".
Another one threw a blanket over Ahmed's head, and he felt the spit spreading across his left cheek, though the notice of that soon gave way to the knowledge that something else was coming. He saw nothing, but he heard a water tap being turned on, and the laughs of his captors. This wouldn't be the first time they'd waterboarded him, nor would it probably be the last. At least it would be better than the electric batons.
And even if Ahmed would die in this miserable place, he knew that he would be a martyr.