A half hour later, we were in the outskirts of Aden. I looked to the southeast, where I knew the Sheraton was located, and I didn’t see any smoke rising into the air, so that was a good sign.
The Sheraton Hotel is located away from the city, on a peninsula that juts into the Gulf of Aden. The landscape was formed by a hopefully extinct volcano, and there are high hills and bluffs overlooking the beaches, which is very scenic, but not good for security.
There was a construction project up ahead, and a big sign in English said: BIN LADEN CONSTRUCTION COMPANY, which reminded me of what Colonel Kent said in Sana’a. I’m sure most of the Yemeni-based bin Laden family were good citizens, but it was sort of jarring to see that—like if I saw in Germany ADOLF HITLER VOLKSWAGEN DEALER. Right? They might want to change that company name.
We passed the airport and began an uphill climb into the high ground above the beaches.
I could now see the Sheraton below, a white six-story contemporary-style building, sitting peacefully in the sunlight. Behind the hotel was a stretch of white sand and palm trees, and the calm blue waters of the Gulf of Aden. Paradise. Not.
Clare said, “Looks nice.”
Looks like a target.
Mike asked me, “Bring back memories?”
“Lots.”
We came down a narrow road on the downside of the high bluffs, and right in front of us was the Sheraton Hotel. Brenner radioed, “Niner, niner. We have arrived. Good job, everyone.”
Mike and the other drivers blasted their horns as we pulled into the hotel driveway.
I have returned.
PART VI
Marib,
Yemen
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Bulus ibn al-Darwish, al-Numair, The Panther, wearing the white robes and shiwal of a Bedouin, sat on the dirt floor of a goat herder’s hut situated in a narrow gorge in the highlands south and west of Marib town. The sun was low over the mountains and the hut was in shadow, though a shaft of sunlight came through the doorway.
Sitting around the walls of the stone hut were ten men—his inner council of advisors, and also his most senior aide, Altair, an older man, from the province of Ta’iz where the al-Darwish family originated. In fact, Altair was a distant kinsman, and the old man had known the father of Bulus’s father, and had also known Bulus’s own father as a young man, before he emigrated to America.
Nearby was the camp of The Panther’s jihadists, but he could not go there for this meeting because of the American Predator drones. The drones may have seen the camp—though from the air it appeared to be a Bedouin village of tents and also stone and mud huts. And in fact it once was a Bedouin village, but not any longer, thanks to Sheik Musa, who had given—for a price—this village to the jihadists of Al Qaeda. The Panther did not know if the Americans had become suspicious of the camp, but in any case he had called for a gathering here, in the narrow gorge, which was also not far from The Panther’s maghara, his cave, where he lived alone—except for a woman—and which was known to only a few of his most trusted aides, including Altair.
The Panther addressed his council of advisors, saying, “God is testing us.”
The men nodded.
The Panther had just recently received the news that the ambush on the American convoy had failed—because of the Predator drones firing Hellfire missiles—and many jihadists had been killed and wounded.
He said to his council, “The Americans are operating freely on the sacred soil of Yemen. And they are doing this with the blessing of the government in Sana’a—the corrupt lackeys of the Americans who sell their souls for the American dollar.”
Some of the men made sounds of agreement. But not all.
The Panther continued, “We will avenge these deaths.”
Again, there were only a few signs of agreement among his ten advisors.
Bulus ibn al-Darwish knew that some of these men had been against the attack on the Hunt Oil installation. And for that reason, he had not consulted with them about mounting an ambush on the American Embassy convoy. This was the first they were hearing of it, and they were not pleased.
He had suffered two defeats at the hands of the Americans within days, and he needed someone to blame for these defeats. He also needed a victory.
He reminded his advisors, “Forty of our jihadists are as of this moment on their way to Aden. They will