either from him or from Oakpark was through a court order, which would dictate in no uncertain terms the number to be monitored. There was no way they could monitor a new phone every time he dialed the company. Well, they could, but nobody would let them.
Call it a business expense
.
A man answered on the third ring. Ellis wasted no time on pleasantries, not wanting to remain on the line any longer than necessary.
“Did you get the cargo?”
“Yeah, we got it. No issues.”
“Is it properly packaged? Like you were instructed?”
“Yes. I told you, no issues. Nobody will be able to tell what it is. We broke all the kits down into separate components, then lumped the like parts together. It looks like a bunch of metal plates and plastic containers. Just like the bill of lading says.”
Ellis relaxed a little bit. He’d facilitated the game many times, but this would be the first time he was a player.
“What about the landing on the far end? For the transfer. Is the coordination complete?”
“Hey, come on, we’re leaving tomorrow. Do you think I’d fly if I didn’t have it squared away?”
Yes, for the money you’re getting, I think you would
. Ellis wished the man on the other end knew he was dealing with a United States congressman, but a little impertinence was worth the security. “Last time we spoke, you had mentioned complications. Have they been resolved?”
“We’re good. It wasn’t a complication. It was just a matter of finding the right guy. We’ve got the airport to ourselves for three hours. Plenty of time. It’s not in Cairo, but it’s close enough.”
Ellis couldn’t believe the man had just said a location. He wanted toscream into the phone, but he knew that would only attract attention to the mistake—should anyone be listening. He let it ride.
“All right. Go ahead and stage. When I contact you, you need to be on the ground in the following forty-eight hours. Don’t get boozed up on European beer with my per diem.”
Rafik left his hotel room and exited onto the crowded streets of Alexandria, Egypt. It was hot here, but the breeze off the ocean made it much more bearable than the heat around Cairo. He walked north along the shore, passing a coffee shop just off El Gaish Road and entering the Roushdy food court. He cared little about eating at one of the Great Satan’s hegemonic restaurants, but the food court allowed him to watch the café unimpeded, looking for threats before his meeting.
Taking a seat in a Kentucky Fried Chicken, he grimaced at all of the Egyptians waiting to scarf down the infidel’s recipes. He turned toward the window facing the café, disgusted.
Already crowded, the coffee shop had several small round tables underneath an awning, all holding men smoking the ubiquitous shisha water pipe. His contact was a member of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood.
Once an underground organization that had been hunted relentlessly by the Mubarak regime, it was now the strongest political party in Egypt, torn between an old core responsive to its radical roots and a new, egalitarian base. Even as the party struggled to decide its vision of the future, the radical elements continued. They cherished their heritage as the umbrella group that had spawned and connected just about every Islamic terrorist organization in the world, including Rafik’s own organization, al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb.
Originally called the Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat—or GSPC—al Qaeda in the Maghreb was formed during the civil war in Algeria, a particularly brutal conflict.
Rafik had decided to join the GSPC at the young age of fourteen, when he and his parents had been ripped off the streets by Algerian authoritiesin a random cordon and search. He was tortured unmercifully for four days, then released. He never saw his parents again. Consumed by rage, all he wanted was revenge. The GSPC provided that outlet.
As he grew older, he proved himself for higher training. In 2001
Call it a business expense
.
A man answered on the third ring. Ellis wasted no time on pleasantries, not wanting to remain on the line any longer than necessary.
“Did you get the cargo?”
“Yeah, we got it. No issues.”
“Is it properly packaged? Like you were instructed?”
“Yes. I told you, no issues. Nobody will be able to tell what it is. We broke all the kits down into separate components, then lumped the like parts together. It looks like a bunch of metal plates and plastic containers. Just like the bill of lading says.”
Ellis relaxed a little bit. He’d facilitated the game many times, but this would be the first time he was a player.
“What about the landing on the far end? For the transfer. Is the coordination complete?”
“Hey, come on, we’re leaving tomorrow. Do you think I’d fly if I didn’t have it squared away?”
Yes, for the money you’re getting, I think you would
. Ellis wished the man on the other end knew he was dealing with a United States congressman, but a little impertinence was worth the security. “Last time we spoke, you had mentioned complications. Have they been resolved?”
“We’re good. It wasn’t a complication. It was just a matter of finding the right guy. We’ve got the airport to ourselves for three hours. Plenty of time. It’s not in Cairo, but it’s close enough.”
Ellis couldn’t believe the man had just said a location. He wanted toscream into the phone, but he knew that would only attract attention to the mistake—should anyone be listening. He let it ride.
“All right. Go ahead and stage. When I contact you, you need to be on the ground in the following forty-eight hours. Don’t get boozed up on European beer with my per diem.”
Rafik left his hotel room and exited onto the crowded streets of Alexandria, Egypt. It was hot here, but the breeze off the ocean made it much more bearable than the heat around Cairo. He walked north along the shore, passing a coffee shop just off El Gaish Road and entering the Roushdy food court. He cared little about eating at one of the Great Satan’s hegemonic restaurants, but the food court allowed him to watch the café unimpeded, looking for threats before his meeting.
Taking a seat in a Kentucky Fried Chicken, he grimaced at all of the Egyptians waiting to scarf down the infidel’s recipes. He turned toward the window facing the café, disgusted.
Already crowded, the coffee shop had several small round tables underneath an awning, all holding men smoking the ubiquitous shisha water pipe. His contact was a member of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood.
Once an underground organization that had been hunted relentlessly by the Mubarak regime, it was now the strongest political party in Egypt, torn between an old core responsive to its radical roots and a new, egalitarian base. Even as the party struggled to decide its vision of the future, the radical elements continued. They cherished their heritage as the umbrella group that had spawned and connected just about every Islamic terrorist organization in the world, including Rafik’s own organization, al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb.
Originally called the Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat—or GSPC—al Qaeda in the Maghreb was formed during the civil war in Algeria, a particularly brutal conflict.
Rafik had decided to join the GSPC at the young age of fourteen, when he and his parents had been ripped off the streets by Algerian authoritiesin a random cordon and search. He was tortured unmercifully for four days, then released. He never saw his parents again. Consumed by rage, all he wanted was revenge. The GSPC provided that outlet.
As he grew older, he proved himself for higher training. In 2001
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