$ Fundamentalist Terror Revolts

There in Bahrain, where the oil story of the Middle East began, the joy of life still flowed free of the pangs of the tormented religion. An island of sanity in a Gulf of depravity, Bahrain was the jewel in the crown of the ruling monarchies. There in that place they had found a way to reconcile religion with the modern state and the freedom of the individual. Here on these shores red had turned to yellow and yellow to black in those minds ripe with anger, filled with fear and black with bloody intentions.

So it came to pass that the five men set about their task, like Guy Fawkes’s conspirators at a Presbyterian party. They had been given the blessing of their God and superior and were activated by their regional network to strike a blow for faith and fortune. Come fellows, it’s a fine thing that we must do in a place, where noble deeds are done!

At the restaurant on Half Moon Bay on the Gulf coast, the five conspirators met. The colour of their miserable godly souls was black too, black as the gowns of hate and robes of hell – black as the oil that fuelled their hate. Across there over the Gulf, leagues beyond Bahrain lay the remnants of another Islamic faith, Iran, fanned and shamed by the smoke of Kuwait’s countless fires. Previously in the North, the Iraqi conquerors had turned black oil into red and yellow flames, which burnt like volcanoes and erupted over the desert of a ransacked Kuwait. Their treachery was short lived, their legacy of pollutant Eco-criminality a lesson to all lovers of planet earth. After their defeat the land and sea became their enemy, was punished, scarred and left to die like some ancient deadly ritual from the legends of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. A love for mother earth was remote from the inners of such men who held one God as theirs, one belief as all-powerful.

Pools of black hatred were floated into the Gulf and the innocents suffered and were no more. Countless sea birds and fish were extinguished and even Noah could not have saved them, such was the peril of their plight. It is written that: A bad man will succeed where a good man fails to act and here was the primordial example for it.

A mono-cellular organism had more love for its environment than these dark, diminutive Homo sapiens. They were of a different species ... a breed blessed by logical thought and damned by hellish bestial thoughts.

Will you go lassie go, and we’ll all go together was the anthem for these creatures of the night, these praying plotting peasants. These shepherds of death had no regard for life, for earth, for fire, neither for water nor for air. Their lungs were filled with the putrid filth and stench of death, which crept round them in grimy Al Khobar like gangrene in a wound. They were happy to die provided all mortals died with them, and then Allah would prevail over the dregs and dirt that was the universe of these ragged sheep shearers.

They arrived in three vehicles, one a lorry that had been specially prepared for their party. Two of the men Abdullili and Mohammel parked near the restaurant and went to the back of the old Mercedes truck. It must have been built in the sixties for the military. It still bore the original dark green livery of that era.

"Abdullili lift the cover we must check!" Mohammel said in Arabic, drawing a puff of his cigarette at the same time and looking around to see if anyone was watching. Cigarettes were cheap here. The civilised world supplied them cheap and there was no tax on them, nearly everyone smoked. Their angers were explosive like their intentions.

Abdullili eventually obliged by lifting the tarpaulin. They both looked in. He stamped out his cigarette rather hurriedly remembering what they were carrying in the lorry.

" That’s a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be Abdullili. So what do we do now?" Mohammel said to Abdullili who pretended to be firmly in control.

"We just carry out the plan set down for us," Abdullili replied irritably knowing that Mohammel had a problem remembering anything when he got excited. That was one reason why he was chosen for the operation, because after a night in Bahrain he was unlikely to remember what he’d done the day before. That way he could be trusted to tell nobody. Nevertheless, Abdullili knew he could be trusted to do one thing ... to commit terror. He loved to do terrible things to people. He’d been indoctrinated by selected propaganda to hate everything non-Islamic.

"You’re doing the fuse, Abdullili aren’t you?" Mohammel asked. Mohammel had been trained in the use of improvised explosive devices in a camp in the Yemen, but had forgotten anything he had learnt. There was never any doubt on who would be setting the mechanism.

Fortunately for some, the Shiites were slightly more adept at working mechanical objects while Mohammel’s tribe all had difficulty reading the signs on the Yemeni border in Arabic saying Beware you are about to leave Saudi, Death! Abdullili the Shiite would be happy to do the honours. He had recently been fully trained by the Hamas group of terrorists in Palestine. His group of assassins was interlinked with others in Saudi and throughout the world. After a couple of minutes quietly checking, Abdullili spoke.

"We’d better get inside the restaurant and wait for the others Mohammel!" Just then two Hyundai cars turned up with two men in each. They drove straight up to the lorry as though they had some evil intention in their minds. The four men all dressed in traditional Saudi garments were practically indistinguishable in the dark. They got out of their cars.

"Let’s go everybody inside now!" Ordered one of them who had the air of a commander. They all obeyed and entered the Arabic restaurant. These terrorists were not used to rushing anything, so they took their time. They all stole into a corner of the coffeehouse and covered their faces as they went.