Abdul Sattar wiped a sweaty palm across his bald head. It was a tic he’d formed at a young age, one that told the others he was pleased with both them and himself.
These Americans are so stupid. How could they truly believe they could occupy our country without suffering heavy casualties, especially at the hands of our holy warriors?
The ambush had been child’s play. Abu Omar’s mortar fire had been precise, and he had ten dead Americans to bring back to Abu Musab al-Zarqawi as trophies. The leader of Al Qaeda in Iraq would be pleased and reward Abdul Sattar and his men with more weapons and ammunition for their righteous cause.
It was al-Zarqawi who had orchestrated the operation. Their spiritual leader had received information on a CIA officer who was a member of an American task force hunting him. He’d lured the CIA agent and his driver out of the Green Zone in Baghdad by ordering one of his men to act as an informant and feed the CIA false information about weapons of mass destruction located near Fallujah.
The meeting had occurred off the military base and south of Camp Liberty. The CIA officer had foolishly believed his safety was “guaranteed,” but in this war, there were no guarantees.
Al-Zarqawi had kidnapped and smuggled the CIA officer to this location, tortured the man himself, and cut off his head when he’d finished with him. He’d then decided to use him for bait—and as an example.
Al-Zarqawi had wanted to actually participate in the ambush, but Abdul Sattar had insisted he remain in Ramadi, safe from the Americans and free to continue planning his attacks.
The genius of al-Zarqawi’s plan had borne fruit and provided more opportunities to exploit the Americans, displaying their weaknesses for all to see. A video of ten dead American “soldiers” would spread fear into the hearts of their enemies.
Abdul Sattar smiled at the thought, watching his men quickly move the bodies to the pickup trucks.
He looked at his watch. It was only 11:08 p.m.
Allah be praised. We are blessed in triumph.
Although he was grateful for the victory, he was still surprised at how easy it’d been. What he couldn’t figure out was why the Americans had fired upon the compound. Had someone inadvertently stumbled upon their safe house and decided to stay the night, forcing the Americans to act hastily? He couldn’t imagine any Iraqi male staying in the killing house once he’d seen what was inside.
He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he retrieved their corpses and left before American reinforcements arrived.
“Ziad!” he shouted to a taller, gaunt man dressed in a black jogging suit.
“We need to go! The Americans will be missed at some point, and we cannot be here! Hurry up!”
Ziad barked orders to the rest of the freedom fighters. The words had the desired effect as they redoubled their efforts to get the bodies and gear loaded on the trucks.
As he watched the retrieval operation, one question continued to nag at his brain. What were the Americans shooting at?
He decided he did care and needed to know. He wasn’t concerned about the bodies inside since he knew they’d ultimately be discovered—were, in fact, intended as a message—but his personal curiosity finally outweighed his sense of urgency.
He turned back to his second in command. “Ziad, take three men and search the compound. I know we left it this morning and no one has been here, but I just want to make sure. These men were shooting at something, but the dead do not reveal their secrets, no? Maybe something spooked them. Who knows?” he said matter-of-factly.
Ziad didn’t question the order. He nodded his head and ordered the three closest men to join him.
They grabbed their AK-47s from the front of their pickup truck. They looked at Ziad expectantly, loyal followers waiting to do their leader’s bidding.
Ziad spoke. “We’re going to quickly search both houses just to be sure no one else has been inside, and then we get back here to finish picking up these dogs. We don’t have time to waste, understand?”
All three men nodded. “Allahu Akbar.”
Each had been with Abdul Sattar for more than a year and had participated in multiple operations against the Americans. It was the only response.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Ziad said to Abdul Sattar, and then added with a smirk, “Don’t leave without us, brother.”
Abdul Sattar smiled and said, “Never, brother. Allah has shined on us this glorious night, and we’ll celebrate our conquest together later. Now go!”