“Sir?”
The Panther returned to the present problem and said, “So if this man and this woman are in Yemen to kill me, then they have made it convenient for me to kill them.”
Nabeel nodded, but said nothing.
It was possible, thought The Panther, that these two Americans were not here specifically to kill him, but in any case the man Corey had killed The Lion, and for that reason the Supreme Council had ordered a death sentence for him. So if he, Bulus ibn al-Darwish, could kill this American agent, he would gain great honor with the Supreme Council.
He said to Nabeel, “Kill them both.”
Nabeel nodded, then asked, “When? Where?”
“Whenever you can, wherever you can.” He added, “In Sana’a. Or in Aden if they should go there.” He thought a moment, then said, “Or in Marib, if they should come here seeking me. Take as many men as you need and kill them at the first opportunity.”
“I will see to it, sir.”
The Panther was about to dismiss Nabeel, but then Nabeel said, “I have actually met this man.”
“Yes? Where? How?”
“In New York, sir. Just last week.” Nabeel had been waiting for this moment to impress his chief with his knowledge of the enemy, and to show his usefulness in America. Nabeel enjoyed his visits to New York, and he wanted those visits to continue. He explained, “After I received this man’s name and office address from our consulate in New York, I telephoned the number on his visa application and asked to speak to John Corey with the claim that I had important information for him about terrorist activity.”
The Panther smiled and said, “Well, that is a true claim.”
Nabeel and the two Iraqis, seeing that The Panther was smiling, laughed.
Nabeel continued, “Corey came to the telephone and I explained that I had gotten his name from a man who did not wish to be identified. We spoke briefly and arranged to meet.”
The Panther asked, “At the government office?”
“No, sir. That is not the procedure for the first meeting.” Nabeel thought this could be amusing, so he had rehearsed his English and replied in that language, “The agent Corey and I arranged to meet at a Jewish delicatessen.”
The Panther smiled again, but the Iraqis spoke no English and they did not understand.
Nabeel, emboldened by his chief’s smile, continued in English, “Ben’s Jewish deli-on West three-eight.” He asked, “Do you know it, sir?”
The Panther said in English, “West Thirty-eighth Street.” He seemed no longer amused and said abruptly, in Arabic, “Tell me of this man.”
Nabeel did not want to say that the meeting was brief, or that his poor English inhibited the talk, but he did say, “The man was arrogant.”
“They are all arrogant.”
“This man more so.” Nabeel thought back to his brief meeting with the American agent and said, “He was abrupt, and his manner was that of a man who had little respect for me or those of our faith who live in America.” Nabeel wasn’t certain if that was completely true or accurate, but this is what his chief wanted to hear.
The Panther nodded and said, “Arrogant.”
Nabeel continued, “He seemed anxious to leave-it was Saturday last, and the agents do not want to work on Saturday or Sunday. So I arranged with him for me to come to this government building for a new meeting-on Monday, in the morning.” Nabeel did not mention the need for an Arabic translator.
The Panther asked, “And did you go to this meeting?”
“No, sir. That would be dangerous.”
The Panther smiled and joked, “So perhaps it is you, Nabeel, who this man is looking for in Yemen, and you who he wishes to kill.”
“No, sir, it is you. But I will kill him first.”
“You will. And his wife.” He asked, “Is that all?”
Nabeel replied, “That is all, sir. But I wish you to have this-” He reached into his fouteh, and the Iraqi officers became alert.
Nabeel produced a small white card and handed it respectfully to The Panther, saying, “This is the business card of the agent, John Corey. He gave it to me to present at the government building when I called on him.”
The Panther took the card and held it near the flame of the candle. He read:
John Corey, Detective
N.Y.P.D./FBI
Anti-Terrorist Task Force
26 Federal Plaza
New York, N.Y. 10278
There was the office telephone number for contact, but not the man’s cell phone.
Also on the card were two seals-one of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and one of the New York Police Department.
Bulus ibn al-Darwish stared at the card for longer than it took to read it, then he turned it over and read, Nabeel al-Samad to see Det. Corey.
Nabeel was aware that some men who worked for and with Al Qaeda in America at times exaggerated their deeds and accomplishments, so this card was good proof to have of his work-and his truthfulness.
The Panther handed the card back to Nabeel, who said, “It is yours, sir. I have no use for it.”
“Neither do I. And neither will Corey after you kill him, so keep it, Nabeel, to remind yourself of your task.”
Nabeel took the card and said, “Yes, sir.”
Nabeel made to leave, but The Panther said, “Wait.” He thought a moment, then said, “There will be a good reward for you, Nabeel, if you are able to capture this man instead of killing him. Capture him and bring him to me. And also his wife.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But do not allow this reward to blind you to the task of killing them if that is the only way.”
Nabeel vowed, “This man and his wife will be captured and brought to you, or they will be killed.” He further vowed, “They will not return to America.”
“And neither will you if they escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nabeel again made to leave, but The Panther again said, “Wait.” He said to Captain Zuhair and Lieutenant al-Rashid, “Begin the preparations for the march.”
Both officers saluted and left the hut quickly.
Bulus ibn al-Darwish, alone now with Nabeel al-Samad, recently arrived from America, inquired of his aide, “So they looked well to you?”
Nabeel knew who “they” were and replied, “As I said, sir, they looked well, and they send you their greetings and their blessings.” He added, because his chief wanted more, “Your father is prospering in his business and your mother has become closer to her faith.”
The Panther nodded and asked, “And Hana?”
“She, too, has become more devout, and as I have said, she is very content in her work at the office of your father.”
None of this was true, of course-at least about the sister and the mother. The father was prospering, but he had aged badly in the three years since Nabeel had begun visiting them after the Cole attack. The mother, too, looked drawn and sad. Hana, however, was more angry than sad, and she had told Nabeel, “I have no brother,” but Nabeel would never tell that to his chief.
The parents of al-Darwish had given Nabeel photographs and letters for their son, but he could never allow these things to remain on his person, and he had burned everything at the first opportunity after he left these meetings, which were always arranged for a public place in Manhattan or Brooklyn-a park or a museum, or sometimes a department store. The authorities, he was certain, did not know of him, though of course they knew of the al-Darwish family. The authorities sometimes watched their house, and their mosque, and the father’s place of business. But the family was not under constant surveillance, and they traveled often to the city for shopping and entertainment. Also, Nabeel knew, they had a sense, after all these years, of knowing if they were being watched.