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

a message. I’m beginning to worry. I’m going to call again now. Hopefully, she’ll tell me she’s waiting downstairs. I’ll see you down there in a few minutes.”

42. Brussels: Mossad Safe House

The apartment windows were cloudy from the soft rain that had been intermittent over the previous few days. The city was dark and glistening. David Ben Tov, Salim’s Mossad case officer, his katsa, had arrived a half-hour early to do a little housekeeping. He made a mental note to get operational funding for a maid.

     The doorbell rang, and David let Salim in.

     “We haven’t heard very much from you lately. Is anything wrong, Salim?” David asked after giving him a cup of coffee. “Where is al Khalil?”

     “I told you about our conversation in Gao. He wanted to attack Israel. But I followed your suggestion, and I convinced him to focus on Iran instead.”

     “And what is al Khalil doing now? Where is he?”

     “I haven’t been in touch with him recently—I don’t know. I assume he’s probably in Niger or Mali, back to the Sahelian project. I would know if he was in Europe to give a speech.”

    “Wasn’t Israel his real target?” David asked. “Don’t you think he’s planning something against Israel?”

     He tried to look directly in Salim’s eyes, but Salim looked at a watercolor on the wall with the hint of a grin. He turned to David and felt the knot on his tie as if to make sure it was perfectly centered.

     “I don’t know that.”

     “If he is, tell me. Another conflagration in the Middle East is not going to help anyone, least of all al Khalil and the Ikhwan.”

***

After the meeting, David went his through his surveillance-detection route before returning to his Israeli Embassy office on Avenue de l’Observatoire. There, he sent his report to Mossad headquarters in Tel Aviv.

Salim’s evasive manner is troubling. The Gao meeting probably was a watershed. With a man of al Khalil’s stature and vision, nothing is out of the question. In the absence of other information, it is best to assume the worst. While we have been fortunate to keep him away until now, his focus may have changed. We need to alert our sources within our borders.

43. Jerusalem: El Wad Street

“Marhaba, welcome,” said Mahmoud Salah, the Hamas operations chief, to al Khalil and Hussein as they stepped into the apartment on the curved main thoroughfare in the city’s Muslim Quarter.

     “I have occasion to think of you every time I come here by way of the Jaffa Gate. Did you know that its original name was Bab al Khalil? Some people still prefer to use that name.”

     They were in a well-furnished living room. The man who had opened the door was tall, physically young, but with old eyes that had seen more than their share of violence, injustice, and suffering. Tariq and Hussein, who had changed from monks’ robes to less conspicuous slacks and shirt, sat down on a low and long banquette against the wall at Mahmoud’s invitation.

     “The time to bleed the invader, the occupier of Muslim lands is here, Alhamdu’llah. With your help, and with Allah’s blessing, peace be on Him, we are going to show the world the righteousness of our cause,” al Khalil said.

     “Alhamdu’llah. I trust your journey was pleasant and safe. We were expecting you earlier.”

     “Yes, the border control point took longer than I expected. Are you in touch with Rashid and Karim?”

     “We have received their equipment. Getting it through the tunnels under the Egyptian border took a month. Your men needed more time to assemble the planes and the ground stations. They are ready now. My entire operation has been devoted to this project. We have been able to do nothing else. When you give the green light, we will help your men to deploy them to the takeoff point. Our commitment is total. The risk is high. But I agree that the stakes are worth it.”

    “Yes. We could not do it without you. We are in your debt. But we all work for the same goals.” He paused and then asked, “What about our hostage?”

     “My men captured the American ambassador’s daughter. No problem. We can hand her over as planned.”

     Al Khalil stood up. “His daughter? Did your men know the ambassador would not be in the car? Was the American flag on the car furled or unfurled? If there was no visible flag, then your men should have known that the ambassador was not in the car.”

     Looking pointedly at Hussein, al Khalil continued. “Hussein, did you explain all this when you helped plan the kidnapping?”

     Al Khalil again looked at Hussein and shook his head, deflecting his dissatisfaction toward his own deputy since he needed Mahmoud’s assistance.

     Mahmoud interrupted. “His daughter may be even better. An ambassador is in the government’s service. There is little sympathy for a government employee, a functionary. He is supposed to take his chances. Besides, the American policy is to not negotiate for the safety of its own people. But a young dependent, that’s something else. And a young woman, that is even better.”

     “Are the weapons ready and in place, as you and Hussein planned?” asked al Khalil.

     “Yes, they are hidden in the Christian castle. A good idea. No one ever goes there except the occasional tourist. Using the remains of the Crusader occupation is clever. As is your cover, monks who make beer and cheese,”

     He laughed.

     “It is ironic. It is right. It is an inspiration from Allah, the Most Blessed, the Merciful.”

    He grinned in appreciation.

     “The Jews are not as smart as they think,” replied al Khalil. “Tomorrow night, we will pick up the weapons. We will attack the