ONE DAY LATER
OUTSIDE BANDAR LENGEH, IRAN—FEBRUARY 10, 2020—09:15 / 9:15 A.M. IRST
But the wind is catching them. It’s blowing them over,” said Muzahim al-Aiyubi, leader of the first team.
Balling his hands into fists, Abbas stalked toward him. “I don’t want excuses. What about the day of the attack? What if it’s windy then? Should I call it off? I could get General Qaani on the phone and say, ‘We were going to strike a great blow for true Islam, but Muzahim said it was a little too breezy.’”
Al-Aiyubi shook his head. “No, sir, that is not what I am saying. It’s just that I don’t know how we can keep the small drones from flipping.”
Abbas reached the man and slapped him on the head hard enough to make him stumble back two steps. “Figure it out! That is why we’re doing this! We’re practicing so we can determine every potential problem and develop a solution. I don’t know is not a solution. It’s an excuse! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Numerous times Abbas had considered demoting al-Aiyubi and putting someone else in his place. The problem was he was still the best of this second-rate group. The KSS desperately needed new blood. Maybe with the success of this mission they would end up with enough fighters for them to choose who they kept rather than settling for whatever came through the doors.
“I will return in 15 minutes. At that time you and your squad will tell me what you have devised as a solution to the situation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Abbas marched off in the direction of the second drone squad.
The trucks had pulled out of Al Diwaniyah, Iraq, two days after the KSS heard about the abduction of Abu Mustafa. The convoy was only three strong for the first leg of the trip. Each of the first two trucks was carrying a driver, a gunner, and drones. The third truck held the remaining 16 members of Abbas’s team. It took eight and a half hours to drive from their starting point, across the Iranian border, and south to the port city of Bandar Mahshahr. There they picked up one more vehicle—the one that was supposed to have been delivered to them in Iraq.
The captain had been extremely angry after finding out about Abu Mustafa. He’d interrogated Abbas in his emails. He’d threatened him and promised severe retribution if the operation had been compromised. But Abbas had assured him that compromise had not been possible. Abu Mustafa had not known the details of the plan, and the mission was still secure. Nevertheless, he felt it essential that he leave immediately. The captain had delayed Abbas for two days in order to transport the final truck to a new location, before he finally released him for the journey to the Iranian coast.
This new truck expanded Abbas’s three-truck fleet into four. Engine trouble with two of the ancient vehicles turned what should have been a long, one-day drive into a multi-day ordeal. After three more days on the road, they’d completed the final 845-km leg to Bandar Lengeh.
The last week had been all about training. The first drone set-up team he’d just walked away from worked in conjunction with the primary assault team. There was a smuggling route that would hopefully get them to the shore. Once there, they would lay out the 250 Intel Shooting Star drones, then wait for Abbas’s command. In his heart, Abbas knew there was a high probability of this team being caught and likely killed. If that should come about, he was fine with it. After all, they were just the distraction.
After walking up on the second drone team, he watched their activity for a few minutes. They had their ten UAVs laid out and were readying them for launch. “Give me a report,” he said.
Fuad Razzak, the leader of the second squad, said, “It all looks good. Next we’ll rehearse loading the cargo onto the drones. Because we can’t practice with the C4, I’ve created ten, two-and-a-half kilo bags of clay and metal to simulate the load.”
Abbas slapped him on the back. “Now that’s what I call problem-solving. I should send you over to help that group of incompetents in squad one.”
These larger drones would remain at sea. The ten Aurelia X6 UAVs had longer range and would be deployed from the fishing trawler. These were the ones that mattered. When they attacked, it would be devastating. Ideally, the smaller Shooting Star drones would draw the people into the open with their light show. If they didn’t, again, that would be okay. There would still be plenty of targets walking the isle. The infidel world would reel when they heard about the horror of Yas Island.
“Keep up the good work, brother. Only don’t keep them out too long. Between the wind and this godforsaken Iranian landscape, it would be easy to get grit into the machinery.”
“I’ll ensure we give them each a thorough cleaning before we store them away.”
“Very good. Carry on.”
Abbas continued to watch as his men worked. The first squad would figure out their problems. The second squad was already solid. The third squad—Abbas and his inner circle—was a whole different animal. He shivered, although he didn’t know if it was from the cool wind or from thinking about this final chapter of the story Kata’ib Sayyid al-Shuhada was about to tell.
What would take place on the fourteenth would be a whisper in comparison to the scream of the fifteenth. The fourteenth would bring tears and sorrow. The fifteenth would make the world gasp and fall to its knees. People would remember the date February 15 with awe, and its devastation would stand as a testament against Sunni decadence for months if not years. The date 2/15 would rival 9/11 in the fearful impact it would have on the West and wayward Islam.
As Abbas lay on his cot each night, all the possible scenarios played out in his head. What if this attack brought down the corrupt sheikhs of the Emiratis? Maybe it would spark unrest in the other Gulf states as well—possibly even in Saudi Arabia. It was certainly time for the hedonistic Saudi royal family to meet their timely death.
Was it even possible that this one act might finally trigger the Shiite/Sunni war that he and other Shiites had prayed for so many long years now? He prayed to Allah that this would be true. Finally, Iran, Bahrain, and the militias of Iraq would have an excuse to execute judgment on the heretical Sunni dogs. If that happened, he would be a hero of historical proportions. For generations to come, people would tell stories of the great Seif Abdel Abbas with the same honor and reverence they spoke of Osama Bin Laden, Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, and Mohamed Atta today.
But don’t get ahead of yourself, he thought as he made his way back to his first squad. You still have to make this happen. As soon as you start feeling confident, mistakes will happen. Allah, bless me with the wisdom and resolve needed to carry out your will.