The studios of Al-Qazzaza TV were located in Umm al Qaywayn, United Arab Emirates, built right on the sparkling waters of the lower Persian Gulf.
The upstart of all-Arab TV, indeed the Muslim world’s first superstation, Al-Qazzaza had moved into its new digs just a few months before. The building was impressive. Very modern in appearance, it looked like a flying saucer, with the station’s large transmitting antenna soaring high above resembling the mast of some futuristic man-of-war. Dozens of bright blue satellite dishes surrounded the saucer, with hundreds of smaller, more conventional radio antennae surrounding them.
Al-Qazzaza was he go-to place for Islamic terrorists these days—that is, if they wanted to get free airtime for their videos of beheadings, roadside bombings, and other mayhem being committed in the name of Allah. Like rock musicians trying to get their latest song played on MTV, the terrorists clamored to get on Al-Qazzaza as often as possible. Their couriers could be seen entering and leaving the studios on a regular basis.
No surprise, then, the place was under constant surveillance by many intelligence services, including, today, the Mossad, Israel’s premier spy service. Three of its agents were ensconced in a hotel room across the street from the seaside studios, cameras and eavesdropping equipment in hand. But these men weren’t simply voyeurs. They were also assassins. They had a computer-generated list of terror suspects who, should they appear at the studio, were to be taken out.
This mission was typical duty for the Mossad, as several of their number-one marks were known to be in the area. So far it had been a dry hole, though. The team had been in place for three days and there had been neither hide nor hair of any potential victims.
This all changed early this morning. Just before 7:00 A.M., a well-known Islamic bagman named Ishtar Abdula was spotted climbing out of an unmarked white van in the studio’s parking lot. It was only a fleeting glimpse—but that was OK with the Israeli agents. They were videotaping everything.
Ishtar was on their hit list as he’d been observed previously moving tapes and other communications between Israel’s most hated enemy—Hezbollah—and the various Arab TV outlets. But while he was ducking through the back door of the studios, the Mossad agents noticed something unusual about the man. Because he was a courier for several different Islamic terror groups—Al Qaeda, Hamas, Hezbollah—he would have been expected to arrive at the studio with a suitcase full of videotapes. Yet this morning he was not carrying anything with him, not even a coat.
What’s more, Ishtar was only inside the Al-Qazzaza building for a few minutes before he reemerged carrying a white canvas bag. By this time, two of the Mossad agents were down in the street, huddled inside their disguised taxicab. Ishtar climbed back into the same van that had dropped him off. When it sped away, the Mossad agents followed in silent pursuit.
They weren’t surprised when the van turned back toward the nearby harbor. This fit Ishtar’s pattern. No matter who his clients were, the terrorist delivery boy always moved in and out of Iran, as this was the easiest country in the area for someone like him to transit through. Indeed Iran was the only country willing to give him a passport.
From the nearby port it was just a short trip across the narrowest part of the Persian Gulf to landfall on Persia’s western shore. If Ishtar made it onto his waiting boat, it would be impossible for the Mossad or anyone else to get him until he popped up again, somewhere else.
Ishtar’s van pulled up to a small dock where a French-built yacht was waiting for him. The Mossad agents pulled in right behind him. Moving very calmly and naturally, one agent walked up to the passenger side of the van and pumped three bullets into Ishtar’s head. The van driver, a local terrorist confederate, got three in the hat as well, courtesy of the second agent.
Now the Israelis knew they had mere seconds to search Ishtar before the local police showed up. So, while one agent watched the road leading to the isolated dock, the other frisked Ishtar’s bleeding body. He found nothing.
Then he checked the canvas bag the man had been carrying, this as the second agent joined him. In the bag they found only a six-pack of high-grade, broadcastquality blank videotapes, along with Ishtar’s Iranian passport.
Attached to the passport was a small map of Afghanistan and Iran. In the lower right-hand corner, circled in red pen where the borders of the two countries met, was Ishtar’s apparent destination: the city of Khrash.