Free Gnash by Brian Parker Page A

Even though he sent the message to carry out their missions, he hadn’t known what each of the cells had planned as their targets, let alone that they had a man on the inside of the president’s Secret Service.
    Within the hour, one of his contacts would be emailing him the transcripts of the speech so he could send a paper copy overland to the Brotherhood’s leaders.  His base of operations in the cave was technologically centuries ahead of how the real men of power chose to live deeper in the mountains.  They lived as kings of old, avoiding electronics for fear of detection, but wanting for nothing since the locals provided everything they needed. 
    He would draft a summary of what had transpired so far to accompany the transcript.  Would they believe him or would they accuse him of creating lies in order to please their hatred of the West?  The Brotherhood of Niyyat had cut off the heads of five nations at once and the group’s leadership didn’t even know it yet.  If he hadn’t seen live footage, verified by different television networks and internet news agencies, he might have had a difficult time believing it himself.  He thought about the report he needed to write for a moment.  Maybe he would print some pictures from the internet to include in his account in order to help convince the masters of the truth of his report.
    The computer beeped indicating a received email and he clicked on the link to open it up.  It was the transcript of the swine’s speech.  Even though he’d watched it live, he read the email to refresh his memory.  This president must have used the same speech writer for it was more of the same drivel that his predecessor had spat out.  The infidels vowed to smash the perpetrators of these events, but they had no clue as to the real threat.  They may even root out every individual cell in time, but they would never discover that the Brotherhood was behind this.  There were too many layers of misdirection between them and the cells in the field. 
    He glanced up quickly from the laptop’s computer screen as one of the guards rushed in shouting that there were soldiers coming up the mountain path.  He scurried over to the opening and heard the distant echo of helicopter rotors bouncing off the slopes of the mountains and valleys.  Their little flying machines could not come nearly as high as this cave, but the men on the ground would hike their way up here eventually.
    With practiced proficiency, the men packed everything away and hid the incriminating items in the back of the cave, then a large flat rock was rolled into place and camouflaged to appear as if it were part of the cave wall.  They lit several very strong sticks of incense that would disguise the smell of the generator’s fumes.  The goats were released from their pens and the fencing was disassembled and piled up to look like firewood.  They drug their filthy blankets from the side of the cave and brought them to the center.  The only items in sight that were from the twentieth century were several old and abused AK-47 rifles and the rusted oil lap.  al-Nusurim sent a runner off into the mountains to warn the Brotherhood’s leadership of the incoming soldiers in case they decided to move further up towards their stronghold.
    After several hours of waiting, a familiar American face bobbed up over the ridge as he walked the worn path to the goat herder’s cave.  This company had been operating in the mountain range for almost a year and Malik had grown accustomed to being interrupted at the most inopportune times by this group.  He wanted nothing more than to have them all shot right there on the path into the mountains, but they would only send more men to investigate what happened.  Subtlety was the key to keeping the Brotherhood’s mountain complex a secret.
    “As-salaam aleikum,” the foreigner said, Peace be upon you.
    “Wa aleikumm e-salaam,” he answered back, And peace be with you.
    An