David Ignatius - Agents of Innocence

“What did you tell him?”

“I said that I would. I was very flattered that he asked me. It seemed like a very great honor. It was only in this later training that it became clear to me what the group was doing. That was when I began to understand about occult power. You see this secret organization-Al-Jabha-was really just a cover for another, even more secret group.”

“What was the more secret group called?”

“It was called ‘The Guardians of the Mountain.’ ”

“Can you tell us about this inner group?” asked Fares.

“I don’t think so. They made us swear on the gospels that we would not reveal what we learned.”

“I want you to tell me,” said Rogers firmly.

“I can’t,” said Shartouni. “It is too dangerous.”

Rogers was wise enough to back off before the frightened young man broke completely from the thin tether with which they held him.

“Perhaps another day,” said Fares.

“Perhaps,” said the young Lebanese.

Having begun the process of confession and absolution, Amin wasn’t going to stop. He met again with Rogers two days later. Again, Fares spent time with the young Lebanese before the meeting, stroking his wounded psyche and encouraging him to tell the rest of his story. They gathered at an apartment near Jounie, in a complex overlooking the sea. The session began in the late afternoon, as the sun was beginning to set on the western horizon of the Mediterranean.

“Today, Amin would like to continue his story by telling us about the inner circle of Al-Jabha,” said Fares. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” said Amin Shartouni.

“Amin has promised that today, he will tell us everything about the group,” said Fares.

Shartouni nodded. Rogers settled back in his chair. Fares lit up his pipe. Amin sat on a couch facing the sea.

“The purpose of the inner circle was to do the things that the Lebanese Army could not do,” the young man began. “The leaders told us that because of political problems in the army, especially the friction between Moslem and Christian officers, it was no longer possible for the army to take the measures that might be necessary to defend the republic. That would be our job. They called it ‘special operations.’ ”

“What did they teach you in this second round of training?” asked Rogers.

“They taught us to make bombs,” answered Amin. His lips were crinkled into an odd smile that Rogers hadn’t seen before.

“Please tell us about it,” said Rogers.

“Very well. We had a new instructor in the inner group, who knew everything about making bombs. He had travelled around the Arab world and knew the secret tricks of warfare.”

“What was his name?” asked Rogers.

“He didn’t have a name,” said Amin. “We just called him ‘the Bombmaker.’ ”

“And what did he teach you?”

“First he taught us how to make homemade explosives.”

“Tell me,” said Rogers.

“They were the simplest kind at first, which you could make by mixing a pesticide with a fertilizer. The Bombmaker said that the nitrogenous compound in the fertilizer, combined with the acid of the pesticide, would produce a powerful explosive. But he recommended against using this mixture.”

“Why?”

“Because it was unstable. It would explode if you shook it, or dropped it.”

“I see,” said Rogers.

“The Bombmaker recommended what he called ‘nitrocotton.’ He had me mix it in the bathtub. We took pure cotton and mixed it very slowly, very gently, with nitric acid. The Bombmaker warned us that if we mixed nitrocotton too fast, it would explode right there in the tub!”

“And you made nitrocotton?”

“Yes,” said Amin. “It was difficult for me at first, because my hand was shaking so much that it was churning up the acid. But I learned how.”

“What came next?” asked Rogers.

“Detonators. The Bombmaker taught us how to make a simple detonator. You start with gunpowder. You can get it from any bullet. Then you take a flashlight bulb, break the glass, put the gunpowder around the resistance wire, and recap the bulb with wax. When you run electricity to the bulb, Boom! You have a detonator!”

Amin smiled that peculiar smile again. Rogers wondered if he was a lunatic after all.

“But those were just the basics,” continued Amin. “We moved on to real explosives: gelignite and melignite and plastique. The Bombmaker said the simplest way to get these fancy explosives was to steal them from the military. He said that tons of explosives disappear from NATO stocks every year, and if we wanted some, we should bribe an American soldier in Europe who would steal what we wanted. If we didn’t need the high-quality military explosive, the Bombmaker said we should just buy dynamite from the people who sell it to construction companies. All we would need to make it legal was a construction license! The Bombmaker also told us about another way, but he said it was very dangerous.”

“What was that?”

“To buy explosives from the Palestinians.”

“What?” asked Rogers, unsure that he had heard correctly. “Why would the Palestinians sell explosives to the Christians?”

“I don’t know,” said Amin. “That’s just what the Bombmaker told us.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“He taught us how to make remote-control detonators. That was really the most interesting part.”

“How do you make a remote-control detonator?” asked Rogers. He felt his stomach beginning to tighten.

“You start by buying a simple radio-control kit, like the kind that children use for model airplanes or boats. You can buy them in any big toy store. The Bombmaker warned us that we should buy only one kit in each store. Otherwise, people would get suspicious.”

“How do they work?” asked Rogers.

“In each kit, there is an emitting device and a receiving device. One for the ground controller, if it’s a toy airplane, and one in the plane itself. Mind you, when you use the kits to make detonators, you must change the frequency and select a new one that isn’t used by model builders or amateur radio operators. Otherwise, the bomb might explode in your hands because of a child who is playing with a model airplane nearby and sets it off by mistake!”

Rogers nodded.

“The kits usually have two frequencies, one to regulate the speed of the toy plane and one to control its direction. That’s the kind that you want, because it gives you two keys on the detonator. A simple electronic transmission on the first frequency opens one key; an audio signal-a voice, let’s say-opens the second key.”

“And then?”

“Then, BOOM! Remote-control detonator.”

“Amin,” said Rogers softly. “What were these bombs and detonators to be used for?”

Amin ignored the question. “Would you like me to tell you the most frightening part of the training?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Rogers.

“It was connecting the electric battery to the detonator. And do you know why? Because of static electricity! Sparks can jump from the battery to the detonator, even when the switch is off. Then, BOOM! The Bombmaker taught me a safety trick. Before you get the battery wires near the detonator, touch them together and make them spark. That removes the static electricity.”

Rogers nodded. Who is mad, he wondered, this poor man or his country?

“I hated attaching the battery,” said Amin with a shudder. “The Bombmaker made me do it over and over, and my hands trembled and shook. But he said it was necessary. Everyone had to do it.”

Remembering the experience, Amin trembled once again.

“The rest of the receiving device was easy,” he continued. “You just attach the detonator to the aerial.”