KHALED MISHAL SPY FOR CIA, MOSSAD AND JORDAN

NOVANEWS
KHALED MISHAL IS A MOLE FOR THE CIA, MOSSAD AND JORDANIAN INTELLIGENCE

I was in Syria on September 25, 1997 visiting Damascus.  I used to be member of the Ba’ath party but quit due to a tiff over some inelegant treatment although I have never received an acceptance of my resignation.  I go to Syria regularly and meet with people of every political level.

On September 25, 1997, we heard about an attempted assassination of a Palestinian figure in Amman.  There were no details provided other than a team of “Israelis” were apprehended.  At that time, President Hafez Al-Assad was still alive, preparing his son, Dr. Bashar Al-Assad, as his heir apparent. Bashar was an apt pupil, I am told.

I met up with Aouni, whose last name I cannot reveal, at the Qahwat Al-Qimma on Jabal Qasioun for dinner and drinks.  Aouni knew me from our days in Amman in 1968 and on.  He had aged considerably with a noticeably arched spine that made him seem almost senescent.  Aouni was still involved with the PFLP, but as expected, in some white collar desk job shuffling papers.

That night, Aouni told me about Khaled Mish’al and his membership in the Muslim Brotherhood.  Like so many of my friends,  the Muslim Brotherhood was anathema.  Friends like Abu Hani in Dearborn who grew up during the rise of the Brotherhood often perfunctorily grimaced at their very mention.  Dr. Richard Mitchell of whom I have written in my articles about the making of an Islamist terrorist always talked about them and their methods of survival.  Amazingly though, Aouni, who despised Zionism as much as this writer, wanted the “Israelis” to succeed.  You see, at the time we were sitting down to Johnny Walker Black cocktails, Mishal was still alive, but supposedly, “in a coma” induced by some poison administered in his left ear.  Aouni didn’t believe a word of the story.  Sadly, my father, Amin Abu Fadel, died in May of 1998 after a long and debilitating battle with lung cancer occasioned by 60 years of heavy smoking.  My father also abhorred the Brotherhood and would have probably seconded Aouni’s verdict.

Dr. Assad always knew this dog would bite the hand of its owner.  Regrettably, the Iranians saw something in this vicious scoundrel.   

I have to admit, I became curious.  I did not travel at that time to Amman since I had lost my relatives there to the dream of America; they moved to the Los Angeles area and settled into a comfortable Californian lifestyle.  But I did pick up literature in Damascus and read about Meshal’s quite suspicious circumstances.  What I learned about the assassination attempt was that the Zionist hit team was made up of 6 agents carrying Canuck travel documents, two of whom were to deliver the poisoned bullet to Meshal’s left ear with the rest being support personnel, one of whom was supposedly a female physician tasked with administering an antidote if the agents stupidly managed to inject themselves with the poison.  Whoever made up that story….well, anyways.

But the proof is in the pudding.  The poison was declared to be levofentanyl, a narcotic analgesic known for a rapid onset with “short duration of action”.  It’s an ordinary, commonly used narcotic in surgical operations.  It puts you to sleep.  It’s more powerful than morphine, to be sure, but it acts the same. Now, people!  It’s one thing to use Polonium to cause the victim an horrific and slow death (read: Alexander Litvinenko); it’s quite another to put that person into a coma without any sense of consciousness.

Alexander Litvinenko died in a London hospital after being injected with Polonium, a radioactive substance that causes a slow, ugly, unstoppable death.  Russian intelligence has been accused of administering the poison through a cup of tea. 

This is Georgi Markov, a Bulgarian dissident, who is believed to have been killed by a Ricin-filled pellet injected into his calf by an umbrella.  He died three days later after suffering horribly.  Don’t mess around with the KGB.  


But the Mossad, supposedly the perpetrator, delivered a shot of a sleep-inducing drug that was meant to put the intended victim into a coma and then kill him in about 48 hours.  Boy, that’s professional.  Well! I think it’s hooey.

The Mossad is no newcomer to the practice of assassination.  Ask any assassin, when you find one willing to regale you with details, about the essence of his profession.  He’s going to tell you that it’s the quick kill and the quick withdrawal and the quick disappearance which are at the heart of a successful murder operation.  Delivering a sleep-inducing medication which narcotizes the victim until a painless death overtakes him 48 hours later defies logic.

But it gets more hilarious.  You see, the two Mossad agents performed this feat in the presence of Meshal’s bodyguard and chauffeur.  They made no attempt to disarm or kill those two individuals.  In fact, if you can believe this, the bodyguard, Muhammad Abu-Saif, chased down the Mossad agents,  and with the help of an unrelated police official who was conveniently available in mufti,  one Sa’id Na’im Khatib, beat the Mossad agents into a pulp and held them long enough for Jordanian officials to arrive to put the cuffs on’em.   Mmmm.

The Canadian Ambassador was informed about his citizens running around Jordan injecting people with analgesics and he quickly attended an interview of the two main assailants.  This ambassador was no wanker.  He demanded they sing the Canadian national anthem which, I understand, came out somewhat grievously.  Like Dudley Doright of the RCMP, he declared them frauds and filed a complaint with the Zionist regime.

According to news reports from the West, the king of Jordan, Hussein Ibn Talal, was furious that his Israeli friends would kill a member of the Muslim Brotherhood (sworn to overthrow him, by the way) and demanded that the “Israelis” produce something the U.S. could easily send them from its embassy in Beirut.  The Jordanian monarch wanted the “antidote” for the poison.  When the Israelis supposedly balked at delivering the life-saving potion,  King Hussein angrily threatened to hang the killers.  Well! Now that’s different.  President Clinton, who knew all along about this public relations ploy, pretended to use his influence to force the “Israeli” P.M., Benjamin Mileikowski (aka Netanyahu) to cough it up, so to speak.  He did, and everyone lived happily ever after.  Well, not quite.

At the time, when Mr. Meshal was delivering the performance of his life, Syria had already outlawed the Muslim Brotherhood because of the eight years of misery that organization visited on the people of Syria, a concatenation of terrorist acts that only ended with their annihilation at Hama.  I was there and I saw the entire event.  It was glorious.

My father used to always say that any Arab’s appearance on a Time cover meant he was being groomed for “acts of treason”

It is SyrPer’s belief that Khaled Meshal was recruited by the CIA sometime in 1971 and was instructed to join the Muslim Brotherhood.  He was to organize Palestinian students and penetrate Islamist groups while he was in Kuwait and Jordan.  He did exactly that.  The CIA informed Jordanian and Israeli intelligence about Meshal with clearly inflated ideas about his potential.   They were encouraged to build up his persona and there’s no better way to do that than to allow him to survive an assassination attempt.  Now he was legitimate.  He was targeted by the enemy for his (non-existent) role in military operations for Hamas (he had zero military experience).  The people respected him.  Unfortunately, so did Iran which saw in him and Hamas a pathway into Palestinian politics.  The Iranians convinced the new Syrian president, Dr. Bashar Al-Assad,  to go along and allow the Muslim Brotherhood into Damascus, just this one time.  What a mistake that was.

I have much more to write about the saga of this traitor.  I could not write this before out of fear that my views would be taken the wrong way.  I kept my mouth shut even after Meshal and his group of cretins left Damascus.   But now, the genie is out of the bottle and I am free to talk to my readers about this ruthless piece of human excrement.

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