Arms Smuggling via Jordan — Planning Before Execution
Scene One — The Night of Decision
In the midst of a heavy night pressing on the riverbanks as if trying to swallow all within them, the abandoned farm stood like a monument to another age. Its crumbling walls lent the room the smell of old earth, and the sagging roof woke in memory the faded images of people who had gone. Tonight, that farmhouse had been turned into a small operations room; dim swinging lamps cast finger-like shadows of danger across the clay walls and lengthened the anxious lines on the faces gathered inside.
Abu Tarek sat at the head of the wooden table, his face thin, fatigue scored along his cheeks; his dark eyes read everything before he spoke, and a string of prayer beads dangled from his hand like a slow count
