The Shaddad Conspiracy

Chapter 9: The Games begin

Tooryalai, the eldest of the three objectors, interrupted. "We do not understand why we have to negotiate for the land our ancestors walked on? We are not the strangers here, but you are!" The room fell silent as he struggled to his feet using his AK101 assault rifle as a crutch. "I bear the scars of these infidels' weapons. They have destroyed my poppy crops. They have killed one of my sons and his family with their bombs. You know the three main obligations of our code of honour— Melmastia (hospitality), Nyaw aw Badal (Justice and Revenge) and Nanawateh (the obligation to give sanctuary to all those who ask)" He bent forward towards Sangar. "Have you forgotten these things because you lived in their land? Have you forgotten your people's ways because you went to their school?"

Tooryalai turned to face the elders. "They blame us for extending our hospitality to Bin Laden, but he did not consult with us when he bombed their home. Is the host responsible for the sins of his guest? They accuse us—and then they put their puppet government to drain us of life and honor. I will fight! They will leave my land and the lands of my ancestors!" He adjusted his ammunition belt. "And I will fight any man who is their friend."

Haji Sultan held up his hand to silence the hubbub. "It is now Sangar's turn to speak."

**

Sangar slowly stood and faced the elders. "For eleven years we have fought these men, before that we fought the warlords and before that our fathers fought the Soviets. In thirty-two years, there has been no peace. My grandfather speaks of times when we were able to feed our people from the wheat we grew. He tells me of the days when children played under mulberry trees. To him and to me, our tribe is everything and for that reason he sent me to learn ways to improve our people's life in far off lands." He turned to face his accuser in the kerosene lamplight. "Our people barely have enough to eat in winter. Our children face a life of fighting, disease and death. Our babies are not fat and laughing as my grandfather has told me they once were. We have fought and fought and fought, yet we have nothing ...

The debate raged on long into the starless night.

JOINT TERRORISM ANALYSIS CENTRE

THAMES HOUSE

MILLBANK

LONDON

JANUARY 13, 2002

1422 HOURS

Christopher studied the CCTV footage that Alexandra was studying on the conference room's large plasma screen.

"Where does the time stamp come from?" he asked.

"Automatic built-in clock in the camera."

"Can it only be adjusted by someone with the key and codes necessary to reset the camera?"

"Why do you ask?" She turned to peer at him.

Christopher swiveled in his chair while failing to notice the increasing frown on her face. "From everything you've told me so far, someone has been playing with every record. Rahima's ID was faked. Al-Addabi or Captain Al-Mezroui, whichever name you want to use, entered with fake ID documents. Al-Qaeda doesn't have that capability nor do any of the larger terrorist groups, Inspector. The telephone records were sanitized - all that points to a government organization or a very sophisticated group."

Alexandra impatiently swept her long auburn hair behind her right ear. "I may be a pretty face to you, but behind this face is a full-grown brain that functions at incredible speed, Colonel. I already have my best techs examining everything – every scrap of digital evidence. If there's been any manipulation, we will find it."

Now aware of the impending storm, Christopher smiled. "Can I ask you a simple question?"

"What!" She stood up and paced in front of the plasma display.

"Is there something about me that rubs you the wrong way?"

"You conceited ..." With both arms akimbo, Alexandra thrust forward her right hip and prepared to do battle.

"...or is it all men in general?"

"... your megalomania know no bounds! You conceited, pompous ass ..."

Both failed to notice the turning door handle.

On the other side of the door, Sir William quietly closed the door and stepped back. "Ronan, you have just been privileged to hear the beginnings of the mating call of a woman in her prime."

"William, what are you blithering about? She'll kill him if he says another word sideways and I need her to assist me at the pharmaceutical company. We have to trace that batch of vaccines. Move aside, she and I still have work to do."

Sir William placed a hand on his old friend's chest . "You've never had much success with the fairer sex, have you? Let a master in the seductive arts explain. She is training him. She will have him begging for a modicum of affection when she is finished. Because he is somewhat strong-willed as I was, he will have to endure the pain far longer than most men, but like me, he will come to realize the errors of his ways and grovel at the appropriate times for her favours."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Ronan barged past his friend and tapped on the door. "William, your supply of drivel is inexhaustible. You must be a great source of amusement to your lady friends. I think I'll mention this distinguishing capability to Lady Catherine when I see her next. Excuse me." He entered the conference room.

"Ronan, I forbid you to speak to that woman, do you hear me?"

**

The battling combatants in the conference room immediately called a cessation of their hostilities as the two senior officers entered.

"Afternoon, all," Sir William announced. "Inspector, you will be spending an hour or two with me so I can brief you on your new role. Ronan, I'm afraid you'll have to trace that vaccine alone. Christopher, you'll assist me with briefing the Inspector."

Ronan held up a hand for silence as he answered the beeping conference phone. "Hawthorne. Unsecured."

The female voice on the other end responded in the metallic tones of all network controllers. "Flash traffic for Colonel Nobriega. We have been advised that he is being escorted by you in the building, sir."

"He is here. Where's the message from?"

"Beirut, sir."

"What is the message?"

"Need you in Beirut. Meet at usual place. Hud."

"Is that it?" Christopher interrupted. "Method of delivery?"

"Post on a website we monitor in Lebanon. All preamble codes correct. Poster verified identity when responding to our posts, sir. They have been authenticated."

Christopher scrambled to his feet and lunged for the door.

"Nobriega, what is it?" Sir William demanded.

"Someone is after the child. Someone is rolling up our Shaddad network."

**

The three occupants stared at the doors as they closed with a pneumatic hiss which ensured that the conference room was safe from eavesdroppers.

**

"What child?"

"I think he was referring to Miriam's or Rahima's daughter. Inspector, I'd better get you up to snuff quickly on what we're doing. You'll be following him to Beirut ..."

Alexandra stood up. "Shouldn't I just follow him now?"

Ronan shook his head as he sat down. "Christopher does not travel commercial. He doesn't just travel to Heathrow and hop a plane. He'll be using some damned unorthodox method to get there in the next hour. Don't ask me how because I don't want to know. William, we should brief the Inspector before she gets deeper into this mess."