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FORTRESS MIKNBAYI
OFFICER'S COMPOUND
AZAM Marbuk aka Kumandan sat in his quarters with the lights out, staring across the compound at the eastern wall as he leisurely smoked some of the Turkish cigarettes that Sheikh Omar Jambarah had given him. He rarely slept more than three hours a night, and knew this excess energy had been the driving force of all his life's successes. A lot of that inner strength came from a devotion to celibacy. The ex-Jordanian Army officer could focus a hundred percent on his life's goals without the distraction of lusting after women. Only an occasional involuntary wet dream distracted him.
Not long after arriving at Fortress Mikhbayi, he had informed the sheikh that he no longer wanted to be known by the nom de guerre of Kumandan. It goaded his large ego that his real name wasn't out there to be recognized. Of course, this temporary setback for al-Mimkhalif was something he didn't want to be linked to, so perhaps he was the beneficiary of timing. That could have been something arranged by Allah to recognize his faith and devotion to Islam.
Marbuk particularly wanted his former fellow officers of the old regiment to hear about him directing a large insurgency that was bringing down the infidels' invasion of the Middle East. After a few smashing victories, the jealous wretches would forget their pettiness and demand that he be brought back into the Royal Army at a high rank. Marbuk saw himself toppling the young King Abdullah IPs monarchy and being crowned to rule in his place. But before that happened, he would have to see that the sheikh was incapacitated somehow so that he could take over the whole show. A field commander could be easily shunted aside by an ungrateful leader, as had happened to him in his old regimental officers' mess. At the present time, however, eliminating the sheikh was completely out of the question since without the money from the sheikhdom and wealthy Saudi supporters, al-Mimkhalif would be as crippled as a Baghdad beggar.
Allah's blessings on his ambitions were something Marbuk truly expected. His bold chastisement of the sheikh for his wanton fornicating must have been noted in the Great Benefactor's Book of Behavior and Deeds, as was his criticism of the late King Hussein and Queen Noor. Marbuk fully expected the sheikh to go back to his evil ways at the first opportunity, and this would ensure that the Jordanian would be the real leader of al-Mimkhalif. After his death and the two angels examined him as he lay freshly buried in his grave, Marbuk would ascend to Paradise to exist for an eternity with seventy beautiful houris. This holy reward would make his time on earth seem less than a snap of one's fingers.
Contented and optimistic, Marbuk enjoyed the cigarette as he contemplated the moon above the desert.
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OPERATIONAL AREA
0315 HOURS
THE west wall of Fortress Mikhbayi loomed just on the horizon, looking shadowy in the dull light of moon and stars. The Odd Couple slowed their pace as Mike Assad contacted Brannigan via the LASH headset. "Objective in sight! Hold up while we check it out. Oven"
"Roger, out," said Brannigan's voice.
Mike and Dave Leibowitz felt safe enough to continue forward in upright positions, but at a slow pace. They carefully scanned the terrain around them through their night-vision goggles. Mike had determined that security was lax on that side of the facility from having spent time there, but it was wise to always expect the unexpected. Especially with Kumandan in the vicinity. Mike recalled the al-Mimdehalif field commander had a penchant for suddenly changing routines and procedures. The guy was as restless as a prowling leopard.
The pair instinctively spread out a bit more as they drew within fifty meters of the fortress. When they reached the base of the wall, they stopped to spend five minutes listening for sounds in the immediate area.
"Silent as the grave" Dave observed.
"You could've used a pleasanter comparison," Mike complained. He turned to let Dave remove the grappling hook and line from his harness. They had already decided that it would be best for Mike to make the first climb for a look-see since he was familiar with the area. He would be able to quickly spot anything unusual.
"Okay," Dave said. "Do it!" He stepped back with his CAR-15 ready as he looked upward for any interlopers who might make a sudden appearance while Mike was hefting himself upward.
Mike swung the hook, then sent it flying upward over the wall. It landed with a clink, and both waited to see if there would be a reaction. When nothing happened, Mike grabbed the line and tugged to make sure it was anchored securely. Then he began going up to the top of the six-meter-high wall. When he climbed over the parapet, he knelt down to observe the interior. The parade ground to his front was empty. His eyes roamed to the spot where Commodore Muhammad Mahamat had gotten his head lopped off. He shuddered involuntarily, remembering the grisly sight. He quickly got back to business, noting that no guards or nightly wanderers were present in the area.
"Skipper, I'm on the wall," he whispered in the LASH. "Looks good."
Back in the column, Brannigan gave the word to resume the march. It took the main group less than five minutes to join Dave Leibowitz. The grappling hooks began flying, then were checked by Mike above to make sure they could support the weight of the climbers.
"C'mon up," he invited them. 'The celebration will begin shortly."
Immediately a half-dozen SEALs began the ascent of the wall.
.
AZAM MARBUK'S QUARTERS
THE field commander formerly known as Kumandan liked sitting in the dark during night hours when he was unable to sleep. There was something restful about the solitude that eased his mind into deep contemplation. Many people with insomnia complained about the condition, but as far as Marbuk was concerned it gave him an advantage over those who required eight hours of slumber a night. That was the time when he mulled over past events and made himself ready for future activities. Thus, when he emerged into the waking world in the morning, the Jordanian knew exactly when, where, and how he would take action on the coming day.
Marbuk stood up and stretched, then ambled toward the window. He glanced out, and suddenly his instincts kicked his psyche into an even higher state of alertness. He grabbed his German light-enhancing binoculars, focusing them on the wall opposite the compound. He could see uniformed, armed men climbing silently and steadily over the parapet, dropping into kneeling positions as each arrived. Marbuk's first instinct was to call out the guard, but he quickly changed his mind. The security force at the fortress wasn't all that sharp. When he took over al-Mimkhalif, there would be no full-time rear-echelon guard duty. Everyone would be a mujahideen, and such soft assignments would be rewards for enduring the dangers and hardships of active combat. Veterans of fighting would be given breaks from the grind by being rotated from operational status to safeguarding facilities when practical.
Marbuk grabbed his AK-47 and a bandolier of ammunition by his bedstead, rushing from the room and across the building to the sheikh's suite. If he could rouse up the bodyguards and catch the raiders in the open, he would receive full credit for saving not only the sheikh's life, but the al-Mimkhalif organization too.
When he reached the bodyguards' quarters, he burst in. "Faiyak--wake up!" he ordered.
Alif and Taa sat up in their bunks, coming instantly awake with their bodyguard instincts in high gear. "What do you require of us, effendiT Alif asked, grabbing his Beretta pistol.
"Where is Baa?" Marbuk asked.
"He is standing watch at Sheikh Omar's suite," Alif explained. He and Taa were already getting dressed.