The target for today’s mission was Walid Sattar al Sayed. Prior to the Syrian civil war, he had worked as a Deputy Minister in the Syrian Oil Ministry so he had numerous contacts in that sector. In the fall of 2010, shortly after protests had broken out in Homs and Damascus, he had suggested to his boss that perhaps President Assad should try to work something out with the Syrian opposition group and end the bloodshed before it got out of control.
Several days went by, and then he was suddenly fired and quietly told he should leave Damascus immediately. Believing he had done nothing wrong, he had chosen to stay in his home in the capital city. Two days later, in the dark of night, government soldiers had busted down the door to his apartment and arrested him for treason.
While in prison, Walid was tortured and interrogated for nearly a week. After several days, he managed to find a way to befriend one of the guards, and he bribed the man into letting him escape. Walid quickly fled to the Turkish border and was taken in as a refugee.
He had a brother who was a chemistry professor at the University of Aleppo. In normal times, he would have sought his brother out for help, but he did not want to entangle his brother into whatever web he had become trapped in. He sent word to his brother of what happened and warned him not to make the same mistake. He told his brother where he was going to be, in case he too, had to flee. His brother had a wife and two kids, who he felt obligated to help, should they need it.
During his time at the refugee camp, someone discovered that Walid had worked in the Syrian oil ministry. A professional-looking man with a Saudi accent approached him.
“Asalaam alaikum.”
“Alaikum asalaam,” he replied, cautiously.
After a minimal amount of chit chat, the man came right to the point. “Walid, I have heard that you used to work in the Syrian oil ministry. Those connections are so valuable. I am wondering if you would be interested in selling oil on the behalf of ISIS. That money would help us to acquire high explosives for our work.”
Walid scratched his beard. “Well, my own government discarded and tortured me; there is no love lost between us. I would not mind the opportunity to get revenge on them for what they have done to me. However, I am not the most religious man in the world, and I can’t say that I agree with your brand of Islam.”
“That doesn’t matter. ISIS is becoming like any other government. We are starting to identify the people who can help run the important political positions, even if we are still operating a shadow government. All we really need is someone who can help us discreetly sell our captured oil.”
Within a couple of months, Walid had become an instrumental part of funding ISIS and acquiring large quantities of explosives for the organization. He knew wholesale brokers who did not have a problem buying oil and natural gas on the black market. These groups also had the skilled engineers who could work the oil and gas fields, and the equipment to transport the oil and natural gas.
Because the transactions had to be done in cash or Bitcoins, all through multiple offshore accounts and front companies, it was easy for Walid to skim off the top without his masters knowing. After several years, Walid had become a very wealthy man, and held some influence within the organization. As ISIS tried to form a more formal government, he became an indispensable figurehead behind the scenes. He started to envision himself as one day potentially being the Finance Minister of this new government.
Walid was smart and cunning; he had used his wealth to buy anonymity within Turkey. He paid off the right Turkish intelligence officers and military officers to keep his identity and location a secret. Through his contacts in Saudi Arabia and Qatar, he was able to secure a steady supply of explosives and other essential tools that his ISIS masters requested.
The Saudis and Qataris all had the same goal as ISIS, the destruction of the Shia government of Syria and Iraq, Iran’s new proxy. The fact that Walid was not a religious zealot also played to his favor, as this put him more on par with these key allies’ way of thinking. Though his ISIS bosses did not condone his worldly behavior, he was too valuable of a resource for them to make an example out of him.
After swiping his access card and entering his six-digit code, the locked door clicked, letting Mike back into the building. A wave of cold air pounded his face as he walked into the hallway. He quickly walked back to a dimly lit room with numerous banks of monitors and two rows of analysts working behind them. This was TF Torch’s nerve center, located in a non-descript looking building at the edge of the flight line on Incirlik Air Base. The CIA ran multiple drones out of this location, continually monitoring the situation with ISIS and from time to time, carrying out a drone strike when the right opportunity presented itself.
An Air Force Major signaled for Stone to come to his station. “Sir, the drone is on station. As you can see, the wedding reception is well underway. We estimate at least a hundred people at the compound.” As he spoke, he was zooming in and out of the compound from a couple of different angles to give Stone a better picture of the area.
After examining the footage for a couple of minutes in silence, Stone looked at the major and asked, “Have you confirmed the target is there?”
“Yes. Here is the image of the target.” The major pulled up a separate video file and clicked on it. It showed a few minutes of footage, following the target and his bride as they were eating at a table. From the angle of the drone, they could clearly identify the target. Facial recognition placed it at a 97 % match to the pictures they had on file.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stone saw a male get into a vehicle and leave the compound. “Who is that exiting the compound?” he asked, wanting to make sure the target was still there.
Scrolling back through the footage on a separate computer, one of the CIA analysts looked to see if they could catch a glimpse of the man’s face. Fortunately, the man had looked up as several birds flew by, and that had given them enough of an angle to grab a good picture. “Unfortunately, this guy is not in our system, so we are not sure who he is. We just know he’s not one of our targets,” explained the CIA analyst confidently.
The major moved the main screen back to the live image of the reception before Stone could say anything else. He then shifted his curser over to another large screen on the side wall and opened another video file. “While you were grabbing a cigarette, we monitored six individuals who arrived about ten-minutes ago. It appears that at least four of the individuals are bodyguards, but as you can see, we got a clear shot of the person they are protecting.”
As Stone scrutinized the still image the major had just opened, he could not believe his eyes. It was Abu Muhammad al-Shimali. The Iraqi-born citizen of Saudi Arabia was a senior leader within ISIS. He was responsible for the facilitation of moving foreign fighters to and from ISIS-held territory. Abu Muhammad was a key facilitator smuggling fighters into Europe, Britain and the US. The US had a $5 million bounty on his head.
“How certain are we that this is Abu Muhammad?” Stone asked with a bit of excitement in his voice.
Another analyst, Jarred Miller, walked over to the major and Stone. Miller was one of the CIA’s top analysts that was part of Stone’s counter-ISIS task force. “I just got the results back from facial recognition. It’s an 83 % match. The guys back at Langley also believe this is him.”
A second later, the secured phone to Langley began to ring. Jarred was closest to it, and he picked it up. Then he handed the phone to Stone. “It’s the Director. He wants to speak to you,” Miller said, a bit surprised.