Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [127]
But even more disturbing was the thought that Imam Zuabi would associate with someone like this. If this man worked for one of their benefactors, what did these benefactors want for the money they’d given to Zuabi? Whose agenda was Haddad being asked to carry out? That of Allah or some unseen entity?
The man pulled out a chair, sat, and removed his sunglasses. The eyes behind them were like ice. “Good afternoon, Mr. Haddad. I’ve heard many great things about you.”
“I wish I could say the same of you,” Haddad answered. “Shall I order you tea, Mr…?”
“Swain,” the man said. “Adam Swain.” He showed Haddad a set of credentials. “I’m with MI6.”
Haddad’s eyes widened but the man held up a hand to reassure him. “Take it easy, mate. We’re on the same side.”
It wasn’t for that reason Haddad was aghast. He knew that Imam Zuabi had been working with certain people within the British government to help—which is why Haddad had traveled here on a diplomatic visa—but he had no idea how deeply Zuabi’s network went.
Did the Hand of Allah truly have MI6 in their control? Or was it the other way around?
“I assume you have everything in order,” Swain said. “Your men will all be in place at the proper time?”
“Yes,” Haddad said, still trying to recover. “Yes, of course.”
“All right,” Swain told him. “The big man’s speech is scheduled to begin at twenty-one hundred hours and they’re usually pretty punctual about these things. Someone on the inside will slip away well before then, and the door to the kingdom will be open and waiting for you.”
Haddad considered this and nodded.
“I assume you know your way around those tunnels?” Swain asked.
“I have been through them personally,” Haddad said. “There will be no mistakes.”
“Good. That’s what we like to hear.”
We? Haddad thought. Was he speaking of Zuabi or someone else entirely?
Haddad was becoming uneasy.
A waitress came over, asking Swain if he wanted something to eat, but he waved her away. Rather rudely, Haddad thought, as if she were somehow beneath him.
Not a promising sign, and not a good way to stay unnoticed.
“There’s just one last thing,” he said to Haddad. “A slight change in plans.”
Haddad’s discomfort grew. “Oh?”
“We’re going to need your full commitment on this mission.”
“Of course,” Haddad said. “As always.”
Swain shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. Your full commitment.”
It took Haddad a moment to realize what he was saying. The request was surprising to him, considering what a valuable soldier he had been over the years, but if this was Allah’s will, then he would give himself without question.
He did, however, have to wonder.
Why now?
Was it because of what happened in Sofia? Or what he’d done to Abdal al-Fida in London? Had the imam deduced that the fool’s death wasn’t a suicide and felt he had to punish Haddad for going against orders?
Haddad did not think Zuabi could be so small-minded, but the imam had been showing signs of weakness lately. His willingness to consort with infidel outsiders like Swain was ample proof of this.
But Haddad knew that whatever happened truly was Allah’s will. And if he was to die tonight to help bring about the fall of the infidel, then so be it. He would sacrifice himself a thousand times if he could.
He looked at Swain. “I give whatever Allah requires of me.”
“Good,” Swain said, then checked his watch. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have a plane to catch. But I’ve brought a gift for you.”
One of Haddad’s eyebrows went up. “What sort of gift?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Getting the message, Haddad pushed his plate aside then dropped some bills on the table and stood.
“Show me,” he said.
Swain grinned then got to his feet and gestured for Haddad to follow. A moment later they were outside and walking down the street. They turned together into a narrow alley where a van was parked.
Haddad wondered if he had been too quick to accept this man as an ally, yet he sensed no threat in Swain’s demeanor. He did not think this man was capable of subtlety. If he meant you harm,