Ted Bell - Warlord

"Good evening," Thorne said with his warm smile. "I was just saying good-bye to our hero here. On my way out, actually."

Hawke shook his hand and said, "Monty. Please stay if you can. We're here to give Lord Malmsey an update on what we found in those laptops at the safe house."

"When did you return, Alex?" Thorne asked.

"About twelve hours ago. I wanted to be present when the army intel group interrogated some of the Arab terrorists as well as the IRA chaps who survived our assault on the safe house."

The smile on Thorne's face froze. "Did you say Arab terrorists? In Northern Ireland?"

"Yes."

"But, my God, that simply does not make any sense."

"Actually, the way these terror groups are forming unlikely international alliances against us, I was surprised not to find a few North Koreans or Venezuelans scattered among their number."

"Yes. At any rate, splendid job up there. No sign of our mysterious Mr. Smith, I don't suppose?"

"Apparently we just missed him."

"Rotten luck."

Sahira had gone to the foot of Malmsey's bed.

"Lord Malmsey, how are you feeling? You must be terribly tired. Shall we come back tomorrow morning?"

Lord Malmsey, whose entire neck was swathed in thick bandages, snorted, "After what Alex just told Monty? I should say not. Everyone please pull up a chair and gather round. Alex, would you mind telling the two distinguished gentlemen outside my room to close that door and let no one enter, no one at all, including doctors or nurses, for the next twenty minutes?"

"Yes, sir," Hawke said and stepped briefly out into the hallway to confer with the two detectives.

"Al Qaeda? In Northern Ireland?" Malmsey said. "The mind boggles."

"Extraordinary," Thorne said as Hawke returned and pulled up the last of the bedside chairs. "This is beginning to assume obscene proportions. In the decrypted analysis, Alex, any mention of this bastard Smith? The one who seems to be behind the threat to my old friend Charles and the two boys?"

"Yes, Monty. I'd hoped to find him inside. We found him all right, but inside the computers we took."

"We've got to stop this man, Alex. I'll do anything in my power to help you do so."

"Thank you, Monty, we can use all the help we can get at this point."

"Alex," Malmsey said, "my last report was you'd the house under surveillance. Trucks were coming and going, making deliveries, presumably weapons. Then what?"

Hawke told him, leaving out no pertinent details, except the run-in with Major Masterman and his subsequent mysterious disappearance. When he finished, Malmsey said, "The weapons cache. Were you able to determine the source?"

"Yes, by pawing through what remained after the explosion. The preponderance of weapons were out of Syria and Iran, sir. We also found old Stinger missiles, given by the Americans to the Taliban in the Soviet era."

Malmsey said, "Good Lord. And these Islamic terrorists you captured? What in hell are they doing in Ireland, for God's sake?"

"They slip in by way of Belfast Harbor, sir. Smuggled aboard merchant ships, tramp steamers, and the like. All young, all fresh and fervent, out of terror camps in northern Pakistan. Come to the aid of England's enemies in the struggle for justice."

"Al Qaeda? Taliban? Which?" Thorne asked.

"Both."

"Fighting side by side with IRA soldiers? It's incomprehensible."

"Indeed. One of the most astounding things we learned from the captured laptops was that, for want of a better phrase, some kind of super worldwide terror alliance has formed around their common enemy. I wouldn't be surprised to find Chavez or the Castro brothers, any enemy of the West, sending fighters to join their growing number. They see us as weak, tired of war, and they believe the time to strike has come. Look at America's southern border. It's not just Mexicans entering illegally. Every month hundreds of Iranians, Syrians, Yemeni, and North Koreans are caught by the Border Patrol."

"They have a name?"

"Sword of Allah. You'll recall we first heard that name from the group that claimed credit for the Terminal Four bombing. After years of infighting, the warlords in Afghanistan and Pakistan have united under one leader, identity currently unknown. But it is quite possible he has usurped the now impotent Osama bin Laden, now believed to be hiding in Tehran."

"To what end? Could you extract that level of intelligence from the enemy computers?" Montague asked, staring at Hawke.

"Yes, Monty, all exchanges have been successfully decrypted by the team at Five. These people are bent on ummah, a worldwide caliphate. The global domination of Islam. And they are ramping up for major attacks both here and in the United States. We're already seeing them here, of course, with the attacks on Heathrow, and now MI5. In the States, they've claimed credit for the hospital attack in Miami, and, more recently, the death of forty innocent schoolchildren in Pennsylvania at the hands of a suicide bomber."

"Despicable," Montague Thorne said.

"We found a video, sir, which has not yet been released. MI5 is currently trying to determine when it was made and where."

"What does it contain?"

"A hooded terrorist. Four more standing behind him with AK-47s. He's got a sword at the neck of one of the two female British tourists who mistakenly entered Iran some time ago. Innocent schoolteachers from Dorset who were tried and convicted as spies."

"What does he say?"

"Nothing, in the beginning. He simply decapitates the poor woman. The corpse is dragged away and replaced by the second woman, who is obviously hysterical and made to kneel. He places the knife at her throat and makes a brief speech in Urdu, which we've just translated. He says, and I'll paraphrase, that this is the fate suffered by all nonbelievers at the hands of Sword of Allah. The killing will continue until every last member of Western military personnel has left every last acre of sacred Arab soil. Then he looks into the camera as he raises his sword above the woman's head and says, 'We're waiting. But our patience is not infinite.'"

"And then he kills her," Sahira said.

"Bloody barbarians," Montague Throne said, shaking his head.

"There's more, sir," Sahira added. "We've identified those responsible for the attack on Thames House."

"Good work. How'd you manage that so quickly?"

"The terrorists themselves aided in our investigation. The mortars and the explosive device aboard the barge were delivered downriver by a hired truck. Whoever was driving the truck returned it to the agency to pick up his security deposit. On the off chance that he might just be stupid enough to do exactly that, the Metropolitan Police were waiting for him when he showed up."

"IRA, I suppose?"

"No, sir. Sword of Allah. All homegrown. Pakistani. And every one of them had a prison record. Petty theft, housebreaking. But they were converted to radical Islam while in prison, sir. It is absolutely epidemic. Both here and in America."

"One more thing and then we'll leave you in peace, sir," Hawke said. "There were two names that kept popping up in the preponderance of the Internet communications. You'll recognize the first from our meeting at Highgrove."

"Tell me."

"Smith, as I mentioned earlier."

Thorne exploded. "Smith? Good God. The man whom Congreve suspects of murdering Mountbatten."

"The same."

"And threatening the Prince of Wales," Thorne added.

Hawke said, "Yes. The 'Pawn' as he styles himself. I hoped to find him inside that safe house. And I did, in a manner of speaking. Encrypted in those salvaged laptops. Whoever he is, he is playing this game at the very highest levels. There was even an extremely angry exchange between this Smith and an IRA lieutenant over his failure in the attempt to murder Chief Inspector Congreve and me en route to Highgrove."