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

and diplomatic. But before she could try her new tack, Roger continued in a calmer tone.

     “I’m not convinced that the signal is coming from his phone. Those techies have it all wrong. I’m opposed to mounting an operation to steal it. It’s a waste of manpower. I could just ask him for it. But the DST boys have their best team on Tariq. They’re going to borrow that satellite phone and examine it. It’s probably going to create a diplomatic incident.”

     He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

    Roger questioned her about her African background, her studies, and her parents. In a few minutes, Kella felt that she had been wrung dry by an expert.

     Finally, he said, “We need to continue this conversation later in a more relaxed atmosphere,” which she took to mean that she was dismissed and that he meant to go further than just leer at her.

     As she walked out, she noticed another photo on the wall: Roger in a black and gold uniform, spurs and a cocked hat holding a horse by its reins. Unlike Jocelin, proud of his former unit and what it stood for, Roger was very much about himself. And from the way he had reacted, she concluded he was not comfortable in his skin.

***

Maurice, the burly DST team leader, waved to Paul farther down the Rue de Courcelles. They were on al Khalil. Their assigned objective was to separate him from his briefcase, where, they knew from the DGSE, he carried his satellite phone. Al Khalil had come out of the Saudi Arabian Embassy on Avenue Hoche and was proceeding north on Rue de Courcelles. Although Roger had briefed the team that al Khalil usually took taxis in Paris, he seemed headed toward the Courcelles Metro entrance, so Maurice sent two of his men ahead into the Metro station.

     The team also knew from tapping his hotel phone that al Khalil was scheduled to make a presentation at the Salle Pleyel that afternoon. The two surveillants preceded al Khalil to the platform that would put him on the Metro heading west toward Charles de Gaulle Etoile.

     By the time the subway pulled in to the Courcelles Station, Maurice had maneuvered three men in front of Tariq. He and Paul were immediately in back of him. As Tariq stepped onto the metro, he was prevented from moving forward by the three men in front of him who, their backs to him, barely gave him room to step onboard. The wagon was fairly crowded and, as the team had hoped, he didn’t push forward. Just before the doors to the metro started closing, the two who stayed on the platform acted in unison.

     A few minutes before, Maurice had summarized the choreography for his team.

     “The first action is to keep him very close to the door. The second action has three movements. That will be you Paul, and me. We don’t get on the metro but we’ll be immediately behind him as he gets on. You’ll be on the left. Movement one, stick him on the left side with this pin to get his attention away from the briefcase; movement two, I tear the briefcase from his hand; movement three, the doors close and the metro takes away us and his briefcase. It’s over and we have his phone.”

     As planned, Paul stuck a needle in al Khalil’s left buttock. Al Khalil yelped in pain, turned to his left and looked behind him. As his shoulders started their rotation, Maurice, on Paul’s right, seized al Khalil’s briefcase with both hands and wrenched it away. The doors of the metro closed within a fraction of a second and the metro pulled away.

    “They took my briefcase,” Al Khalil shouted. “Stop the train, stop the train!”

    People looked at him strangely. The three men in front of him moved away in different directions as if to avoid getting involved with this helpless and indignant foreigner, probably an Arab.

     “Served him right,” one muttered to no one in particular.

32. Timbuktu: IMRA Building

Hussein saw Karim outside sitting on the sand, his legs crossed in front of him, with a small group of militants in the shade of the building.

     “What are you doing?” Hussein asked.

     “I’m waiting for the boss. He wants me to drive him to the northern camp.”

     “Come inside.”

    Karim got up and followed him past several desks busy with welfare recipients into a far corner where there were two empty chairs away from anyone.

     “We don’t have enough people at the camp. You have enough experience now to help out with the training. Also talk to Rashid up there. He’ll tell you where you’re needed most. When you go up there with Tariq, take another driver to bring Tariq back.”

     Karim was pleased with the increased trust being placed on his shoulders since the attack on the missionaries and the NGO workers. He gave some of the credit for the new mindset to Steve. He had taught him to be less passive, to recognize when he had choices and what they were. Being at the camp meant more responsibility, perhaps more independence, and probably more choices. He came to believe that his meeting with Steve had been meant to take place; Allah had clearly willed it. Such a life-changing event didn’t just happen. It had to be part of a greater design.

***

At the desert camp, Karim immediately became aware of the almost uninterrupted whining sound of small engines being operated at high speeds. Karim went toward the noise and found the airstrip. He counted five small planes that were flown remotely. Karim was fascinated by them and began to spend as much time as he could around the camouflage netting, under which the unmanned air vehicles, the UAVs, were hangared.

    Karim