24

Marrakesh, Morocco

Zhor Rhazziq was in his study, walls lined with books written in many different languages. Sitting in his Corinthian leather office chair, his back was to the twelve-foot French doors that opened to the Atlantic Ocean. He pressed a button on a standard-sized remote, pointing it at a small television screen with the label Tandberg beneath the thirty-six-inch visual display. He ran a well-manicured hand over his black stubble that made him look more like a playboy than a devout Muslim, which he most certainly considered himself.

He turned away from one satellite feed where he was watching The Leopard secure his prize and now was beginning a video teleconference with the operational commander in Al-Qaim, Iraq, just south of the Syrian border, a full continent away from the action in Tanzania. Rhazziq was also including others in this call. He was conducting a commander’s battlefield update, something he did rarely. Two developments, though, had necessitated this conference, which would be conducted over secure satellite connection using the vast array of technology employed by his media conglomerate. Mostly, his men were wearing the ARM-Sleeves and were able to simply look at the high-tech wearable devices on their forearms and talk.

Looking back at him on the screen were two men dressed in black combat jumpsuits and red-and-white-checkered keffiyehs . The scarves did not completely cover their faces, and the men appeared to Rhazziq to be battle weary.

Rhazziq’s commanders frequently moved nightly. Regularly changing locations of their headquarters by even one building often saved their lives in a tepid U.S. bombing campaign that none of them considered effective. The Islamic State controlled the Iraq-Syria border from Al-Qaim to the Turkish border, where they also paid off the remotely based Turkish customs officials to allow passage of black market gasoline.

Soon other commanders joined the conference, their pictures appearing on the screen, each time making the previous image a smaller rectangle.

The first development was the completion of the caliphate strategy. Rhazziq had drafted the white paper, as he called it, run it by his senior leadership peers in Raqqah, Syria, and then set about getting the logistics into place.

His rationale was that because American forces had withdrawn from Iraq and were about to withdraw from Afghanistan, the American intelligence apparatus was significantly weakened. Because of recent attacks from the Islamic State, the Americans were struggling to reassert their intelligence operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. This part of his plan was essential: Islamic State attacks must continue to keep the Americans and their intelligence apparatus focused on the Middle East, Iraq and Afghanistan in particular.

His strategy was to keep the Americans fixed using an economy of force in Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan while shifting the recruitment of foreign fighters to key nodes in Africa. Let the Islamic State drain U.S. resources from the next fight: Africa. Rhazziq’s strategy would be full spectrum. There would be combat operations, but the gambit would be one of capturing the hearts and minds, classic insurgency doctrine, Maoist even.

The first step, capturing the Ebola and HIV cures that were being developed in Tanzania by the CIA, was happening now. His electronic warfare capabilities had intercepted enough email traffic from the village outside Mwanza to have him send a single operative, his Leopard, to the location and steal the recipe. He had just watched The Leopard pick up a small pack from a trail and head back toward his vehicle. Comfortable that the formula would soon be his, he thought of his dead friend, Quizmahel, whom he believed would approve of how things had progressed since his martyrdom this morning. Coupled with Amanda Garrett’s boneheaded move to burn her own aid center, captured perfectly on ARM-Sleeve high-definition digital image, his information campaign was also off to a great start.

Rhazziq laughed when he thought of the Americans who had attacked the Taliban in Afghanistan and had dethroned Saddam Hussein in Iraq, curing two of Iran’s greatest ills in the region. Like a chess novice, the American government had made two moves that took their own pieces off the board! They’d had Iran pinned at least by Hussein in the west. Now, all of the American focus was on Iraq, Iran, Syria, Turkey, and Afghanistan, opening a corridor for the next move of the Islamic Jihad that was gaining momentum in establishing a caliphate from Morocco to Pakistan.

Rhazziq shook his head and chuckled again. It was almost too easy. The Americans had established their African Command with a headquarters in Europe ! They had such little confidence in their endeavor that they hadn’t dared to place the new outfit’s headquarters on the continent. The Benghazi disaster was just a symptom of this remote, hands-off approach by the Americans. Other than a small base in Africa’s poorest nation, Djibouti, the Americans had little presence in Africa.

The second step was aimed at the American president himself. Jamal Barkum was in his first term. As the second African-American elected president, Barkum had demonstrated an eagerness to settle disputes with the Islamic world. The American media had also characterized Barkum as having a messiah complex.

We shall certainly find out , Rhazziq thought to himself.

“Salaam alaikum ,” he said into the secure videoconference.

A few seconds later, he saw the time-delayed head nods and some utterances of “Alaikum salaam .” Hello and peace.

Rhazziq spoke. “My great warriors, we are set to begin our massive undertaking. Each of you has a task. To our brothers in Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, you must increase the attacks on the infidels using homemade bombs. To my friends in Cairo, Tripoli, Amman, Damascus, Beirut, Riyadh, Algiers, and Addis, complete your organizations and begin your demonstrations, effective immediately. Your goal is to mobilize the people against the Americans because they have killed our friend Quizmahel, who invented the cures for Ebola and HIV. They have destroyed the laboratory where the cures were made. The Americans want the Africans to suffer. You may use violence to attack embassies or Americans, but be careful. We want the people on our side, so only you know best the limitations of each of your populations. Our purpose is to turn all Africans against the United States, incite them to join our ranks, and then quickly train them and move them into martyrdom activities. It will be a classic pincer movement with our brothers in Afghanistan, Syria, and Iraq attacking simultaneously as the Northern Tier of Africa unleashes its hordes on the infidels. Are there any questions?”

Rhazziq saw on the screen that one of the many video boxes showed men looking at their ARM-Sleeves and listening intently.

One man’s voice came through Rhazziq’s speakers. It was Abdullah bin al-Lib from Amman, Jordan. A Jordanian by birth, Abdullah had never accepted his country’s modernization efforts. In Rhazziq’s mind, Jordan was more cosmopolitan than almost all other Muslim countries but had failed the Palestinians. He knew Abdullah felt the same way. As long as that issue remained unsolved, Abdullah should never accept peace as an option, Rhazziq believed.

“What about the Jews?” Abdullah asked.

“The Jews,” Rhazziq said, “will be isolated in their own prison. America will lose what little legitimacy they have in this part of the world. In eastern Jordan, it is your job is to incite chaos amongst the Iraqi refugees and cause the Jordanian military to react. Faqir, your job in the West Bank is to attack every Israeli outpost. Finally, al Dhuri, in Gaza you will lead your thousands of new African recruits into Rafa.”

The Israeli geopolitical position in the world was as tenuous as one could possibly be. Ravenous enemies surrounded them from all sides except the east, where the Mediterranean Sea protected their least assailable flank. The Iraq war had displaced nearly a million refugees into the eastern reaches of Jordan, draining a particularly strong U.S. ally. The idea now was to lock Israel in mortal struggle while simultaneously inciting violence from Morocco to Pakistan. The Americans would be placed on the horns of a dilemma: Do we get into yet another ground war in the Middle East, or do we continue to bomb from the air as the Islamic State takes shape and hardens ?

“This is a bold chess move, my friends. Already you can see the televisions replaying the scene of the American woman destroying the clinic. People are already angry with the Americans. Europe is too weak to do anything, and now we will weaken all takfirs who seek to block our progress.” Takfirs were unbelievers, and Rhazziq had no tolerance for them.

“An indirect approach?” Abdullah asked. It was more of a comment than a question.

“Exactly. Strengthen the Islamic State as we weaken the Americans, isolate the Jews, and then take the next step.”

“What is that next step?”

Rhazziq stared at the camera. He would not reveal the ultimate plan. He had learned the hard way that operations were most successful when information was passed to only those who needed to know.

“I will inform you of future operations as the time comes. It involves the greatest psychological operation of all time. But for now, attack the Americans with the thousands of recruits you will get from this campaign. Attack them everywhere. Iraq, Kuwait, Egypt, Jordan, all across the caliphate,” Rhazziq replied. His passion was obvious. “We have already reached our time limit. Once we have fully destabilized organized governments in the region, we will have millions more martyrs for the jihad and will be closer to establishing the caliphate. Each of you may expect to be formally recognized as commanders of your areas when we destroy the Americans. Then, we take the fight to a weakened American homeland. On their soil, not ours!”

He watched the others touch their ARM-Sleeves, which went blank. When they were all black, he shut off his own device.

Rhazziq stood and looked at his electronic map of Iraq. Not only could he follow every man in his forces who was wearing his ARM-Sleeve, he had also found a way to tap into the Blue Force Tracker information that the U.S. military used to monitor their troop locations. On his digital plasma display, he could see the new U.S. forward operating base in Northwest Iraq that housed the clandestine Special Forces teams that were assisting the bombing campaigns against the Islamic State. The Americans had reoccupied an airfield and base to the west of Al-Qaim on the Syrian border. He had received reports that American commandos would soon be parachuting into the base. That would be his first target.

Rhazziq smiled. His plan was a good one and seemed to be working so far.

He walked to his balcony and leaned against the marble rail. Dark clouds gathered offshore in the night. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled across the sea. Waves crashed beneath the bluff upon which his mansion sat. Rain began to spit down from the sky.

He raised his arms, holding them wide against the sky, and shouted, “You’re next, Barkum!”