Don Pendleton - Terror Trail

“There is a plan, Hammid. One that will bring much pain and suffering to this place of Satan.”

“Then allow me to become part of it, brother. Let me be one of those who will deliver Allah’s wrath to this godless place.”

“I am in need of believers such as yourself, Ibrahim Hammid. True followers of Allah who need a purpose in life.”

James clutched his Koran. “Where you go I will follow, Shaia Kerim. There is nothing here in this place for me. This desolate land of the infidels is dead to me. I have never been in the military, but if I had a gun I would strike out against the Americans.” He raised the Koran and held it to his chest. “This is my only weapon, but against the American war machine it is powerless.”

“What would you say if I offered you a chance to strike at America? To make a difference?”

“How?”

“By joining a group who are going to visit Allah’s vengeance against the Great Satan. In a way that will bring home the pain of war to Americans at large. Here on their own streets.”

James held himself silent for a heartbeat, studying Kerim’s face. “This can happen?” And when Kerim simply nodded, he asked, “But how?”

“Put your trust in me, Ibrahim Hammid, and I will make this happen.”

James smiled at Kerim. “Allahu akbar,” he said. “Then if He wills it I will follow you.”

“Then go and gather your belongings. Return in the morning and I will take you to a place where you can wait until I make arrangements.” As James stood, still clutching his Koran, Kerim added, “Tell no one. Stay faithful.”

They moved out of the mosque together. James walked away, aware that Kerim had remained at the entrance, taking out a cell and making a call. He did not look back but simply went down the street, maintaining his cover role as Ibrahim Hammid.

* * *

WATCHING FROM his car, Encizo reported in.

“Cal is leaving the mosque. Kerim saw him out and now he’s making a cell call.”

“Check no one is following Cal. T.J. can tail him. Cal should be going back to his room. If it’s safe he’ll call in and update us.”

“You want me to stay on Kerim?”

“If he leaves the mosque.”

Encizo saw Kerim complete his call, then turn and go back inside the mosque.

“Kerim has gone back inside.”

“Stay there. If you see anyone interesting try to get some shots.”

“I’m on it.”

Nothing further happened until Kerim left the mosque a couple of hours later. By then Encizo had been informed about what had happened inside the mosque. He started the car and made his way back to the hotel Phoenix Force was using as a base.

Hawkins had tailed James back to his rooming house. No one else followed James, Hawkins determined. The black Phoenix Force pro went inside and used the cell hidden in his room to update McCarter on what had taken place. He hung around inside his room until it was time for him to start his afternoon shift at the restaurant.

Gary Manning, the lone Canadian on the team, was observing from a distance, watching to see if anyone made contact. No one did, but Manning noticed a lone figure keeping an eye on James, even taking a number of photographs. He called that in.

“Looks like they’re checking up on our mate,” McCarter said. “Probably want a picture for identification.”

“Good thing Aaron had that fake background planted on the internet.”

“Too bloody true,” McCarter said. “Keep a sharp watch, Gary. Let me know if anything happens that shouldn’t.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“He is of African-American descent,” Kerim explained. “His mother was Algerian. She taught him French and instilled in him a respect for the faith. Since he was brought here as a young child he has had nothing but disappointment. He feels nothing but resentment toward America. His life is nothing. I had one of our people check his background on the internet. The man has clashed with the authorities many times because of his disillusionment. Twice he has been arrested for disturbing the peace, so it was possible for his police records to be accessed. He has never been placed on the American watch list because his actions have always been low-key. He is considered a nuisance rather than a threat. But his presence on record shows he is far from content with his life and does not like America.”

“Will his feelings allow him to take that step to becoming an active dissident?” asked the man they called the Prophet.

“I believe so. Only his faith in Allah allows him to survive. He wants to leave this country but even that is denied him because he is penniless. Without papers. His frustration makes him angry. His only crutch is his Koran. He carries it with him at all times. Reads it constantly. It gives him comfort. But he desires to make his mark. To strike out.”

The Prophet considered what Kerim had said. “Why this man?”

“I have listened to him. He is ready. Given training he will fit into our operation. Being African-American he would be able to move around the country less conspicuously than some of our Muslim brothers. He would be able to get into areas without arousing suspicion.”

“Can we trust him? Does he have what we need?”

“I believe so, Prophet.”

“How would you proceed with this?”

“Take him out of the country. Directly to our camp in Yemen. Give him time with our people, as we have done with the others. Instruct him in the use of automatic weapons. Grenades. Return him to America and give him the necessary clothing and finance. Place him in a chosen location and let him wait until it is time. Then unleash him on the American public on the day we choose. Like all the others he will only have knowledge of his individual mission.”

“And if he proves not to be with us?”

“At the camp we will be able to observe him closely. In Yemen he will be under our control, so if he is false we can deal with him easily.”

“Have you spoken of your intentions to him?”

“Only to gauge his reaction. And he has spoken that he wants to join our cause.”

“Then perhaps now is the time. Where is he now?”

“He returned to the mosque as instructed. He was moved directly to the safe house.”

“Talk to him again. If you are sure he is willing then we can make the arrangements to take him to Yemen.”

Kerim nodded, excitement welling as he thought of the interesting time ahead. His protégé would prove to be a vital asset. His indoctrination into Hand of Allah would show how well Kerim had carried out his task. Even the Prophet would not be able to deny his procurer’s skill. It would raise Kerim’s standing within the organization. The plan to infiltrate American cities with his armed martyrs had been mostly Kerim’s, and the Prophet had agreed on the plan.

Drawing Hammid into Hand of Allah would involve some financial outlay. But that was no problem. The group had funding from a number of sources, including al Qaeda. People backed such organizations because it furthered their needs. Encouraged the ongoing war against the infidel West. When the Prophet had once detailed the amounts of money that had been funneled into the Hand of Allah coffers, even Kerim had been surprised. The funds were banked in a number of accounts and were readily available to the Prophet, so any financial outlay was easily deployed. It was a comfort to know the financial needs had been taken care of. Planning an operation was hard enough without having to struggle to gather enough money to fund it.

With the monetary security behind him, Kerim was able to concentrate on gathering his people. The ones who would actually carry out the planned strikes on the streets of American cities. There was no shortage of willing volunteers, but Kerim wanted those who could walk the U.S. streets with confidence, able to restrain themselves until the chosen moment arrived. He did not want trigger-happy martyrs who might easily allow their eagerness to push them into acting too soon, breaking the orchestrated plans of attack. That meant he had to choose carefully, taking his time.