Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [113]
“The timetable must be changed,” Marwan said as Rashid brought over tea for their guest.
“We should not speak in front of him,” the guest responded in Arabic, slicing one of his hooks through the air as if physically cutting off the conversation.
His name was Aazim Aleem. He was British by birth and had fought against the Soviets in Afghanistan. It was there that he had both hands blown off allegedly trying to deactivate a landmine close to a school. Only the truly naive believed the story. In truth, he had lost both of his hands when a bomb he was building prematurely detonated.
Rashid had met him once before, in Pakistan while he was travelling with Marwan. Aleem was a respected Islamic scholar who had studied at Egypt’s prestigious Al-Azhar University in Cairo. He was famous for his writings about jihad, as well as his sermons, the audio recordings of which were disseminated throughout the Islamic world and across the Internet. He was known as the “Mufti of Jihad,” but he never made any public appearances. Very few knew his true identity. Not even British or American intelligence agencies knew who he was. Back in the U.K., the man lived on a full disability pension paid for by the same government he plotted against and deeply desired to overthrow.
Rashid had been surprised to see Aleem at the mosque. It was completely unexpected and, happening so close to his cell going operational, he was quite sure that it wasn’t a coincidence.
He set down the tea and said, “I understand Arabic.”
Like an angry sea crab, Aleem leaned forward and snapped his hooks at him. “You are not one of us,” he hissed in English.
Rashid looked at Marwan. “I’m confused. Sheik Aleem grew up in the U.K. He speaks better English than I do and yet he’s got trust issues with me?”
“You were not a mujihadeen who fought against the Soviets.”
“With all due respect,” replied Rashid as he looked at Aleem, “the jihad against the Soviets is over.” He pointed at his chest for emphasis. “I represent the current jihad; the one that is actually being waged right now.”
Aleem smiled and addressed Marwan. “He doesn’t know his place very well, but he is passionate.”
Marwan Jarrah held his hand out to calm his protégé. “You will show our guest the respect he deserves, Shahab.”
Rashid did as he was told. “I apologize.”
“You are able to temper your passion,” noted Aleem. “That is important.”
“Important for what?”
“We’ve had a change of plans,” said Marwan.
Rashid looked at their guest and then back to his boss. “So Sheik Aleem is involved in our struggle?”
Aleem laughed. “I have been involved in this struggle since before you were born, boy.”
“Yes,” said Marwan. “He’s involved. There has been a problem in Europe.”
“What does Europe have to do with us?”
“He has much to learn,” replied Aleem.
Rashid was tempted to give the hook-handed old man a piece of his mind, but held his tongue. “So we are working in concert with the brothers in Europe.”
Marwan nodded.
“You could have told me.”
“The need for compartmentalization has always been greater than your need to know.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Because you are being promoted,” said Aleem as he raised one of his hooks and mimicking Rashid, jabbed himself in the chest for emphasis. “Because while you may represent the current jihad, I am the one who orchestrates it.”
Rashid didn’t respond.
“Smile,” continued Aleem. “Allah has just called you for something very special.”
CHAPTER 55
AMSTERDAM
My name is Anneke van den Heuvel,” said a tall, uniformed woman with curly hair who met the team when they stepped off the plane. “Are you transporting any weapons?”
There was no “Hello” or “Welcome to the Netherlands,” not even a “Thank you for trying to help us head off a major terrorist attack.” Instead, the woman’s only concern was if they were bringing weapons into her country.
“We’re not carrying any weapons,” replied Harvath.
“Not yet at least,” Nikki Rodriguez added quietly from behind him.
Harvath had been informed that bringing in weapons would only slow the team down.