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While Zachary waited for the telephone to ring, Parsons and his team continued to plan and rehearse the rescue operation. The plan required surgical execution. Parsons knew the approach and assault phase of the operation were the most volatile parts of the attempt—the team needed to remain undetected up to the time of breach, so they could maintain the element of surprise. Once the assault commenced, neutralization of the threat and control of the hostages would become the priority.
The team also rehearsed multiple contingency plans, including an emergency plan of action in the event anyone became compromised. One such plan included explosives, and team members practiced controlling the flow of force into the target area in such a way to avoid injury or death to team members or hostages.
They also practiced protecting the hostages after the assault commenced. They knew that breach, possible explosives, and rifle fire would shock the female hostages. Hostages are not prepared for this type of firepower. Their reactions are unpredictable. An assault from an unknown force might cause a hostage to turn to her captor for help. A braver or more aggressive hostage might even try to neutralize a guard. Whatever a hostage might or might not do, it was important to rehearse all possible scenarios. Everyone inside the breached crisis site had to be considered armed and dangerous until the rescue attempt identified all participants.
While many of the practiced scenarios were ‘here’s what to do when something goes wrong’ type drills, one practice scenario dealt with a completely successful mission. When everything goes well, the rescue force might react with euphoria and overconfidence. The team practiced discipline in this scenario, focusing on complete self-control and hostage safety. The men studied maps of the compound and practiced securing the target area from outside intervention until the commander sounded an ‘all-clear.’ Comms were vital at this stage. The ‘all-clear’ message had to be delivered to all outer rim snipers to prevent any chance of fratricide.
Parsons delivered recent photographs of Canan and Hana to all team members. It was vital for all hostages to be carefully identified and accounted for in the operation. The men also practiced exfiltration of healthy and wounded hostages or team members who required attention. This included verifying and photographing the remains of anyone killed in the assault.
Securitization of the target area, the final step in the operation was practiced ad infinitum. The site would eventually be handed over to forensics experts and legal personnel—it was imperative to treat it as a crime scene. Keeping busybodies, curious onlookers, or reporters out of the target area would become a priority at this stage.
Success of the mission required unity of command, and no one questioned or doubted that Wayne Parsons was in command of the operation. While he ceded the negotiations phase to Zachary Blake, he supervised, communicated with, and directed Blake at all phases of negotiations. The team was quite familiar with failed hostage rescues in the past, and every failure featured a decentralization of command. In other words, one hand did not know what the other was doing. Thus, Parsons was firmly in control of each element of the plan, with complete control of every sub-element. Every operative would wear the Parsons uniform. Each would receive orders and commands from a centralized tactical operations and command center. This assured a coordination of all elements of the campaign, optimum communications at all phases, contingency planning on the fly, and a non-chaotic atmosphere. Decentralization led to a failed rescue operation. Parsons’ favorite target in emphasizing this was the 1980 failed Iran Hostage Rescue.
Four telephones rang at a table that served as Zachary Blake and the negotiating team’s operations station. Zack, Parsons, and two other commanders studied each other and counted to three on their fingers. They picked up receivers simultaneously—Zack would do the talking while the others listened in.
“Blake,” Zack answered.
“Progress?” The voice demanded.
“A little.” Zack fabricated.
“Define ‘a little’.” The caller insisted.
“Al-Baklavi?” Zack dropped a bombshell.
“So you know of me? Then you know this woman and her child mean nothing to me except as a tool to raise capital. If I do not get what I want, they will soon be with Allah.”
Zack accomplished his goal of confirming that the captor was Al-Baklavi. “I have more money, but not what you asked for.” Zack delivered the phony news.
“How much and when?”
“$3.5 million in thirty-six hours. The time issue is the bank, not us. They need time to convert the cash into fifty dollar bills.”
“$3.5 million will not be enough to save their lives.”
“Then, execute them and leave all that money on the table,” Zack blustered. The three commanders heaved at the comment.
“Not a problem, goodbye.” Zack heard an audible clicking sound. Al-Baklavi had hung up the phone.
“Nice work, Blake. The woman and child are dead, and we came all this way for nothing,” Graham snapped. The others, except for Parsons, nodded in agreement. Parsons rubbed his chin, studying Zachary Blake
“Patience, gentlemen.” Zack countered, with less bravado than normal. He, too, second-guessed his approach. “This man will not leave three and a half mil on the table. He’ll call back.”
“Well, Mr. Blake,” Parsons chimed in. “He’d better because we aren’t among his circle of friends. We don’t have his number, now, do we?” he grumbled.
“He’ll call back,” Zack assured.
The men sat back and waited. No one spoke. The assault team ceased practice maneuvers and joined the others, getting a quick briefing from Parsons and Graham. Everyone in the room focused on the bank of telephones.
The telephones suddenly rang, startling the men, causing all trained operatives to jump.
“Blake.”
“Mr. Blake? I will give you one last chance. I am a reasonable man. You have your thirty-six hours, but I require $5 million. If I do not get what I want, I will execute one of the hostages and the price for the other will rise to $7.5 million. Do you understand and agree?”
Zack glanced over at Parsons, who shook his head in the affirmative.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Zack retorted, ever the negotiator. “What about the child’s medicine? According to her father, she could become quite ill.” He held his breath awaiting a response. Parsons wanted to grab an assault rifle and shoot him.
“The child seems fine to me. She has no symptoms. Her medication must wait until we complete our business. Get me what I need as soon as possible. Act as if the life of the child depends on it because it does. I will call for confirmation at this time tomorrow. When I call, you will have twelve hours to come up with the money and have it ready for delivery. I will provide further instructions at that time.”
“If anything happens to that child, all bets are off. The child is this couple’s number one priority.” Zack poured it on. Parsons scowled.
“How do you say in America? We cross that bridge when it comes upon us,” Al-Baklavi reasoned.
“Her safety is your responsibility. If you want the ransom money, she must remain healthy and safe. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Okay? Hello?” Al-Baklavi was gone. Zack was speaking to a dead line. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“Zack, I know you’re financing this operation, but you cannot go all cowboy on us like that. There is a chain of command, and you breached it. We have tons of experience; we know what we’re doing. Stay with the program. Follow orders or keep your money. Find someone else and we’ll be on our way. This only works if we are all on the same page, understood?” Parsons ranted.
“You’re right, commander. I apologize. It’s the lawyer in me. I can’t resist maximizing a negotiation. It won’t happen again,” Zack pledged.
Silence enveloped the room. The mood became solemn as each man now knew engagement for Operation Mother-Daughter was only hours away.
***
Canan was enjoying precious moments alone with Hana, unaware that only a few miles away a precision covert team would soon execute a rescue operation. Mother and daughter were bonding and reacquainting from their time away. They sang songs and played games to help maintain Hana’s suddenly happy mood. They played ‘Itsy-Bitsy Spider,’ ‘Patty-cake,’ ‘Peek-a-Boo,’ ‘Wheels on the Bus,’ ‘Open Shut Them,’ ‘Funny Face,’ and ‘Simon Says.’
As most parents know, children love to play the same games over and over again. They are wired to practice until they get the game or song right, almost to the point of obsession. Under normal circumstances, the repetition of the same songs and activities, to the point of exhaustion, would have caused Canan to cut Hana off. In captivity, however, a happy, laughing toddler was priceless. Canan was more than happy to endure the repetitive activity.
Canan almost welcomed the interruption when Al-Baklavi and Rima entered the tent.
“We have good news. Your husband has agreed to our terms,” Al-Baklavi boasted.
“So, you will let us go?” Canan brightened.
“I haven’t decided,” the terrorist mocked. “Maybe I will let you go, keep the child, and train her in our ways.”
“I would die before I would let that happen,” Canan blurted with unintended truculence. Al-Baklavi made her pay for it, smacking her across the face, knocking her to the floor.
“Your death can be arranged,” the terrorist snarled.
“Mommy!” Hana screamed, crawling toward her mother.
“Mommy is fine, sweetheart,” Canan whispered, opening her arms to the child.
“He’s a mean man!” Hana scolded, glaring at Al-Baklavi.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Al-Baklavi laughed maniacally. “She has, what do they call it in America? Spunk? She’s got spunk. She will make a great warrior.”
Canan wisely held her tongue.
“I expect we will know more in the next twenty-four hours. Perhaps I should have Rima take the child until you learn some manners,” Al-Baklavi taunted.
“Please, no. Please, sir,” Canan pleaded. Squeezing Hana tightly. Rima bowed her head and shook it from side to side.
Al-Baklavi paused, tugged on his beard, and studied mother and daughter. He purposefully made a game of deciding whether to take or leave the child, taunting Canan. The young mother was terrified. “If you behave until then, the child may remain with you,” he finally determined.
“Thank you!” Canan cried. “Thank you so much.”
“Rima will get you and the child cleaned up and ready. Behave!” he ordered. “Both of you!” He glared at Canan, then at Hana, and back again to Canan. “Have I made myself clear?”
Canan nodded silently. Hana buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. Al-Baklavi turned and stormed out of the tent.
“What did I tell you, pretty one? You mustn’t antagonize this man!” Rima warned.
“I know, but he is an infuriating bast . . .” Canan stopped mid-sentence with a glance toward Hana.
“I understand. This is exactly why I caution you.”
“I’m sorry,” she conceded. After a few moments of silence, Canan considered Rima and wondered aloud, “Do you think this man will release us if the ransom is paid?”
“Only Allah knows for sure.”
“But you know this Al-Baklavi. Does he keep his word?”
“To those he knows, loves, and trusts, yes. But he is capable of raining down terrible evil and terror on any sworn enemy. In his mind, anyone from America is an infidel from the west.”
“So, if he is paid—will he keep his word?”
“Time will tell. Let’s get you two cleaned up.”
***
The woman known as Rima finished her cleaning tasks and returned to her tent. She reclined on the sand floor, alone, silent, reflecting on the past. What could I have done differently?
She was born in Palestine, but her family migrated to Syria for reasons unknown to her. She attended high school and even studied sacred knowledge at the University of Damascus. Rima wanted to be a teacher.
Before the Syrian Civil War began in 2011, woman had more freedom and access to education. Women’s issues in Syria were gaining attention, and Rima intended to be on the front lines of change. As the war dragged on and ISIS rose to prominence, women’s issues were shunted to the side.
Women were relegated to stereotypical female roles of childcare and housework. Husbands could prohibit wives from working outside the home. In two short years, the percentage of women working outside the home decreased by over twenty percent.
Despite being unable to complete her education and find work in her chosen field, Rima saw opportunity where other women saw only despair and degradation. The violent war caused large numbers of men, husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers, to be disabled, killed, or go missing. A shortage of men resulted in a mini rise to power for women, an unusual circumstance that suddenly made women heads of households.
Rima used this temporary situation to self-educate, learn self-defense techniques, and plot her eventual escape from Syria. She founded an underground women’s rights group, mobilizing women to educate themselves, engage in political activism, and learn skills that would make them more productive members of society.
But war eventually causes displacement, and Rima found herself in a camp where women and children needed leadership. The shortage of men meant that strong women like Rima would become the main source of income to feed less accomplished women and children. With community support, Rima set up a soap-making business, founded a factory, employed other women, and found success. Her customers thought her business was run by a man, her brother, who happily accepted credit in exchange for doing nothing.
Rima and some friends became involved in an underground group that reported on the war. She eventually created a small communications company that included an underground radio station where she and her colleagues interviewed freedom fighters. In her reporter role, she interviewed a young idealist named Qassim Al-Baklavi. At the time, Qassim was open to female empowerment, education, non-traditional employment, and even women in the military. Things began to go from bad to worse, however, and police officers and security personnel began to demand sexual favors in return for safety. Women were required to comply and stay silent, threatened with death or public humiliation.
Al-Baklavi was sickened by this behavior, and promised to rescue Rima from such a fate, offering her cheap passage to safety. Rima was responsible for the care of many and determined that a strong man might change the dynamic, protect her and others, and help them escape tyranny, the prospect of domestic violence, and poverty.
For a time, Al-Baklavi was a gentleman, true to his word. He provided protection and safe passage, as promised, and Rima continued her journey of self-improvement, studying the English language and mathematics. But Al-Baklavi began to meet with other men, violent men, and slowly began engaging in disturbing behavior.
He restricted her activities, denied her access to books, and, worse, began to show signs of becoming radicalized. As time passed, Rima rued the day she met Al-Baklavi, who rose to number two status at ISIS. Rima was, once again, relegated to second class citizenship. She longed for freedom, the day she could rejoin the fight for literacy and work skills for women. How can a woman who loses her husband obtain the skills necessary to support her family? Unknown to Rima, she was about to learn this lesson the hard way.
