The Caliphate André Gallo (list of ebook readers TXT) 📖

     Steve handed Karim the soda on his way out, but before letting him take it, he had him repeat the time of their next meeting.

***

Karim showed up. He had thought about it all week and had concluded he had little to lose. He was confident he could meet Steve and have no one the wiser. Rotting in Taoudenni was not an attractive alternative. And if it didn’t work out in his favor, Karim thought he could kill the American. He would thus get rid of one person who could identify him, and also get credit with al Khalil for eliminating a crusader who was also a spy, like all Americans in Muslim lands.

     In spite of his outward self-confidence, Karim was nervous when he reached the hotel. He rehearsed the story that Steve had given him: If you’re stopped downstairs, say that you’re a guide and that I want to hire you, and don’t give your real name.

     But there was no one at the desk, so he went straight to Steve’s room. Before he knocked, Karim wondered whether the Tuareg who had first brought him to the hotel the week before would be there.

     Steve let him in and they first talked about Karim’s debriefing following the attack on the missionaries. Karim said, “All is good. Al Khalil and Hussein are happy with me.”

     “Well, what do you think you know that would be of interest to me?”

     “I know many things that are of great value—very important things. IMRA is strong because al Khalil knows Islam and Islam, through the Quran, is the word of Allah as told to the Prophet.”

     Karim wanted to make a strong impression on the American. He had no clear plan but felt that this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. In weighing the risk of meeting with Steve again, Karim had concluded that he would not be in this situation if Allah had not first willed it.

     “So, what is special about IMRA?”

     “Al Khalil talks a lot about Hamas in Gaza and about Hizballah in Lebanon. We are just like them. You know, one side helps the poor and the other gives them guns to fight and die for Islam. Like me. One day I will die for Islam and go to paradise.”

     He smiled in that knowledge. Steve’s expression was puzzled.

     “Where do IMRA funds come from?”

    “I don’t know. Only al Khalil knows—and maybe Hussein. I cannot help you. I’m sorry. Wait, maybe I could steal some documents from al Khalil’s office.”

     “No, don’t do that. Don’t take any papers and don’t ask questions that you would not normally ask, for now.”

     After an hour and a half, Karim had given Steve the names of all of the people he knew in IMRA, the names of IMRA supporters and sympathizers in Timbuktu, and that al Khalil was planning a big meeting in Gao.

     “It is time that I go back,” he said. “Or maybe someone will ask where I am.”

     “You’re right. Next time, in a week, let’s talk about the camp up north.”

     Karim left without acknowledging he knew what Steve was talking about. On his way back, Karim thought about Steve not knowing if he was a savior to be embraced or a danger to be eliminated.

***

Steve moved their next meeting to an abandoned Tuareg camp two miles outside of Timbuktu. He had told Karim it was for his protection. Karim preferred the abandoned camp to the hotel. He was confident but also knew he would be summarily executed, personally, by either al Khalil or Hussein if they learned he was meeting with this American. No cover or pretext would be good enough.

     Karim was fifteen-minutes late. To explain his lateness, he told Steve, “You said to come after dark,” a directive he had thought to be gratuitous at the time.

     “It’s important to do things exactly as I tell you. For your safety. It’s been dark for an hour. How did you get here and what is your cover for being on away from IMRA?”

     “I walked. It’s not far. Sometimes, I go see a girl I know.”

     He smiled at Steve who chuckled back.

     They were sitting on the sandy ground of a three-sided corrugated tin shelter when they heard voices and Karim stood up to look toward the source of the sounds. He saw a small fire about thirty yards away. The camp was apparently not totally abandoned.

     Steve stood up and motioned to Karim, “We’re moving. Come on.”

     They walked quietly to Steve’s car, keeping the shack between themselves and the camp fire. In the car Karim said, “So maybe this was not the safest place?”

     Steve did not respond.

     They spent the next forty minutes talking in the car while making their way slowly back toward the town. The night sky was bright and Steve, with directions from Karim, could drive without lights. While they saw no other vehicles, there were a few people walking toward Timbuktu. Karim understood that Steve didn’t want to give them opportunity to read his license plate.

     “Tell me about the camp in the north.”

     “Oh, yes. I go there sometimes. It is for training. We bring new fighters there.”

     “Are there any secret storage sheds or underground warehouses?”

     “There is an underground room. It’s locked. No one except al Khalil and Hussein are allowed there. I think that’s where they keep the gold. You know, from the mines?”

     “And where do the weapons come from?”

     “From many places. Like deserters. A long time ago, several trucks delivered weapons and ammunitions from Libya. But not for a long time. We have many weapons but we always need more