THE SPANISH REVENGE (Craig Page series) (9 page)

She smiled. “Omar tried as well. I rejected him, too. I’m waiting for marriage, which hasn’t happened.” She shrugged. “But who knows.”

Craig asked, “Was Ahmed involved with religious fundamentalists?”

“Not at all. I doubt if he ever set foot in a mosque. He was constantly ranting on about ‘those people.’”

Craig removed from his jacket pocket the CD of the call to CNN and a small battery powered CD player. He played the recording, stopping after the first voice, the man who called CNN and said, “Is this Marie Laval?”

“Do you recognize that voice?”

She shook her head.

He replayed it. Same response.

He played the rest of the tape. She was listening intently to the slightly garbled words of the second man. “This is Musa Ben Abdil. Our group, The Spanish Revenge, is responsible for the Spanish train bombing. Our objective is to resume the war between the Muslims and Christians in Europe.”

At the end, she said, “It’s Ahmed Sadi. The man calling himself Musa Ben Abdil.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Craig was pleased. He now knew the identity of Musa Ben Abdil. The perpetrator of the Spanish train bombing. Finding him was another matter.

He had exhausted his questions. He looked at Elizabeth. She had nothing else.

They thanked Lila for her help. Craig added, “Please call Elizabeth if you hear from your brother again.”

Elizabeth offered to arrange a cab to get home.

Lila said, “No thanks. Where I live, in the Eastern part of town, the North African area, a cab would create trouble for me. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. Just find my brother.”

When she was gone, Craig called Philippe, one of the researchers in his office. He asked her to obtain pictures of Ahmed and Omar from their schools, the Passport Office, or Motor Vehicle Administration and post them with Interpol. “Distribute them widely among Spanish and French law enforcement agencies. ‘Wanted for questioning. Armed and dangerous.’ Also put together a dossier on Ahmed.” He gave Philippe what she’d need, including Columbia University.

“I’ll get on it right away.”

He hung up the phone and looked at Elizabeth, who was running her hand through her hair. “Musa Ben Abdil,” she said somberly,
“wouldn’t quit fighting as long as life pulsed through his veins. He would keep going. On and on, inflicting death and destruction on Christians until his last breath. Ahmed will be the same. It’s only a question of time until he does something even more horrible.”

“I’ll talk to Jacques in Paris tomorrow. Also to Carlos. We’ll start a huge manhunt for the two of them in France and Spain. Particularly in Paris. I agree we’re racing against the clock.”

15

ATLAS MOUNTAINS, MOROCCO

General Zhou was awakened by Androshka screaming in Russian on the other side of the bed. Loud, blood curdling screams.

He bolted to an upright position. As he did, he felt a cold wet cloth against his face. And the sickening smell of Chloroform. He reached up and tried to yank it away but a powerful hand was holding it. Another was forcing his head forward.

He thrashed his arms wildly to strike whoever was doing this. In response, he felt a hard chop on his wrist. Androshka’s screams stopped.

He was losing consciousness. All he could think was: Mikail has come for us. “Androshka,” he cried out. She didn’t answer. Then everything went black.

Groggily, General Zhou regained consciousness and tried to get his bearings. In his navy silk pajamas, he was sitting on the
floor of the back of a fast-moving van. One wrist was handcuffed to the side of the van. The metal was cutting into his wrist.

With his other hand, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. Androshka was in a nightgown handcuffed to the van. And Captain Cheng as well. No one else was in the back of the van.

“I told you that you were underestimating Mikail,” she said. “He’s going to kill all of us.”

General Zhou didn’t argue with her.

After they had driven for what seemed like another hour, General Zhou felt the air changing. They were rising into the mountains. Now, he became convinced Mikail hadn’t abducted them. The Russians would have killed them closer to town and dumped the bodies by the side of the road.

He was sure they were Musa’s prisoners, but he didn’t share that with the others.

Without a watch, General Zhou couldn’t keep track of time. They kept driving up and up.

Finally, the van stopped. Two Middle Eastern-looking men opened the back door. They put blindfolds on the three of them, cuffed their wrists together, and yanked them out of the van.

Captain Zhou’s senses confirmed they were high in a mountain area. Breathing was difficult. The air cool.

They were led inside a building. Rough hands forced General Zhou into a chair, then wrapped a rope around his chest, tying him to its back. The blindfold was removed.

He looked around and saw Androshka and Captain Cheng tied to chairs as well. Staring at him was a man in scruffy civilian clothes, dark shirt and jeans, neat beard and mustache, holding a Beretta. In the corner were two other men, similarly dressed, holding AK-47s.

General Zhou decided to seize the initiative. “Musa Ben Abdil.”

“Craig Page sent you to locate me. Didn’t he?”

The idea was so preposterous that General Zhou laughed, which infuriated Musa.

“You think it’s funny. When I kill your assistant first, then the girl, you won’t think it’s funny any longer.”

Musa raised his pistol and pointed it at Captain Cheng. General Zhou was convinced he would pull the trigger unless Zhou dissuaded him from his ridiculous surmise.

“I was laughing because what you said is absurd. I hate Craig Page. He destroyed my whole life. You defeated him with the train bombing. With my assistance, you’ll score many more victories over Craig Page. That’ll give me a measure of revenge.”

“You’re lying.”

Again Musa leveled the gun at Captain Cheng.

General Zhou continued, now speaking rapidly, “A month ago you bought four very powerful Chinese bombs, called Rock Blasters, for 400,000 euros. They were delivered to you on a road twenty kilometers east of Marrakech.”

“So what?”

“I can supply you with as much as you want of the most sophisticated weapons. And for no fee.”

Now Musa lowered his gun. “Who are you?”

“General Zhou, formerly head of the Chinese Armed Forces.”

“And now?”

“An exile living in France. Stripped of my military position, because of Craig Page.”

“But you still call yourself General Zhou.”

“Always. One day I will return to China and be President of that great country. Even now, key members of the Armed Forces are loyal to me. My brother, Zhou Yun, the CEO of Zhou Enterprises, is one of the leading industrialists, the most powerful and wealthy man in all of China. Between my brother and my military friends, we can give you everything you need.”

“What did Craig Page do to you?”

“As Commander of the Chinese Armed Forces, I negotiated a
secret agreement with Iran. As you no doubt are aware, imported oil is the lifeblood of the United States economy.”

Musa nodded.

General Zhou continued, “Working together, China and Iran intended to cut off the supply of imported oil to the United States. I conceived this plan and named it Operation Dragon Oil. We would block shipping routes. Sabotage oil pipelines. Most important, we planned to attack the oil fields of Sunni suppliers in the Gulf, like Saudi Arabia. Also to corner the market from other, smaller oil-supplying nations.”

“Why were you doing this?”

“To leapfrog China over the United States economically. To make China the dominant military and economic power in the world. I had everything in place. I even paid off the CIA Director, Kirby, to help me. He concealed any intelligence the United States received about our agreement. So Washington would be caught totally off guard. They wouldn’t have a clue about what we were doing until it was too late. Their oil spigot would have been turned off. We were set to go. Then Craig Page got into the act.”

“When was this?”

“A year and a half ago.”

“Why didn’t I hear about it in the media?”

“Both Brewster and President Li put a tight lid on any publication.”

“But Craig was no longer with the CIA at the time.”

“Correct. He had been fired by Kirby and was operating a consulting business in Milan.”

“I don’t understand how he could have thwarted you.”

General Zhou scowled. “Bad karma. Craig’s daughter, Francesca, a newspaper reporter working for Elizabeth Crowder at the
New York Tribune,
had gotten wind of our plot. She was snooping around trying to uncover the story. She happened to die. Bad karma.

“After her death, Craig got hold of her notes. He investigated and uncovered my agreement with Iran. Craig then went to US President Brewster. Once Brewster threatened Chinese President Li, that gutless scum refused to support me. He canceled my agreement with Iran. If it weren’t for Craig Page, the agreement would have been implemented. Without imported oil, the US economy would be in shambles. China would be dominant. And I would be a hero for all of China and the rest of the world that hates the United States.”

“Then why were you exiled?”

“Because Brewster demanded that President Li punish me. And Li was terrified of the United States.”

General Zhou took a deep breath and continued. “Now you know why I hate Craig Page more than I’ve ever hated anyone, including Mao, who destroyed my parents. Your success will be his defeat and disgrace. I want to help you achieve that. You have an Arabic expression, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’”

Musa looked dubious. “I don’t believe you came all this way at such great risk merely because I could help you settle your score with Craig Page. You have something else in mind. Don’t you?”

General Zhou was impressed with Musa’s acumen. He resolved never to underestimate the man.

“The answer is yes. But with what I have to offer you, I should not be subjected to this humiliating treatment. We must sit together and talk as equals.”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Musa was nodding. “I’m persuaded.”

General Zhou exhaled with relief, overjoyed when Musa said to his colleagues with the AK-47s, “Untie them. Treat them as honored guests.”

He turned back to General Zhou. “I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

“I understand. You have to be careful.”

“In the custom of my people, we will eat. All of us together. Then you and I will go off and talk.”

Musa led them across a dusty field toward a one-story, stone building that served as a mess hall. Looking around, General Zhou concluded this was a community Musa had created for his group, The Spanish Revenge. He saw about twenty young men and women. No children. All dressed in civilian clothes. All olive-skinned. Arabs and Berbers. Women’s heads weren’t covered. A secular Islamic terrorist group.

Musa was regarded with great deference, General Zhou observed. They ate simple, but good, food. Fruits, vegetables, rice, and lamb.

Afterwards, Androshka and Captain Cheng remained behind in the community dining room while Musa led Captain Zhou to a gazebo on the crest of the mountain. An incredible view stretched out on all sides. It wouldn’t last. Fog was descending from the snow-covered mountain peaks. They sat on wooden chairs with thick cushions.

“Now tell me your other motive for wanting to help me,” Musa said.

General Zhou hesitated for a second choosing his words carefully. He couldn’t give Musa the impression that he wanted to use Musa to help achieve Chinese dominance, though that in fact was what he intended. Musa was a proud man. He’d balk at that. Instead, General Zhou had to approach the matter as if they would be partners.

“As this century unfolds,” General Zhou said, “it is clear there are three great power blocs in the world: China, Islam, and the West, which includes the United States and Europe. If China and Islam cooperate, they will destroy the West. That is my dream.”

“What about Russia?”

“They are nothing. Too corrupt. Crime ridden. Ineffectual army. Unable to control the Muslim nations of the former USSR. The worlds greatest underachiever. But let’s come back to the point. Based upon the Spanish train bombing, I see you having the potential with my assistance of coalescing the forces of Islam in Europe.”

“Specifically, what kind of help can you provide?”

“First, I must understand your objective.”

“Justice and equality for the Muslims in Europe. Part of Western Europe was under the control of Islam for hundreds of years. Southern France and Spain. And we treated Christians fairly. Then the Spanish Catholics, led by Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand, defeated and humiliated us in the fifteenth century. Since then, Christians have ridiculed Islam and treated our people harshly. Like second class citizens. The Spanish train bombing was the prelude to an attack at the heart of the Christian world so daring and devastating that they will have to change how they regard us.”

General Zhou was disappointed in what Musa had said. Terrorist attacks had only limited ability to destabilize Europe. Something more was required. An invasion to capture a portion of the continent. Now that would be something. He became excited thinking about it.

“How much manpower do you have?” General Zhou asked.

“I brought my core of supporters from Clichy, outside of Paris. But here I can recruit from Morocco and Algeria plenty of young Arabs and Berbers who hate Europe. As many as I want. You don’t understand how much they despise the West.”

“Could you create an army, not merely a terrorist cell?”

Musa looked wary. “Why do you ask?”

“I think you should expand your objective beyond terrorist attacks. Do something much larger.”

“Like what?”

“Retake a part of Southern Spain. A moment ago, you said that Islam once controlled it.”

Musa shook his head. “Trying would be suicidal. My men and weapons are no match for the Spanish army.”

“But if you had Chinese military experts to train your men. If I were to supply you with the most sophisticated weapons. And money to pay soldiers.”

Musa shot to his feet. “You could do that?”

“Of course. The Chinese government already trains and supplies
rebel groups in many places. In Africa—Nigeria, Darfur, Somalia, the Congo—and elsewhere in the world.”

“But you’re not with the Chinese government any longer.”

“My friends in the Chinese military could conceal our activities from the civilian leadership.”

General Zhou was confident that Freddy Wu would supply whatever Musa needed.

“You’re a military man, General Zhou. How long do you think it would take until we were ready to attack Southern Spain?”

“Six months.”

“But I’ve been planning a dramatic terrorist operation in Europe on Christmas Day. Two months from now.”

“What’s the target?”

Musa pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Either we’re partners or we’re not.”

After a full minute, he opened his mouth. “The Vatican and the Pope,” he said hesitantly. Then added, boldly, “The spiritual heart of the Christian world. If I succeed with a daring operation there, the whole world will take notice of the Spanish Revenge. Islam will be on the rise.”

“What kind of operation are you planning?”

“I’m still developing that.”

“Do it in the Spring. Easter Sunday. At precisely the same time you launch the attack to retake a portion of Southern Spain.”

Musa’s face lit up. “Perfect. Once we establish a beachhead in Andalusia, I can encourage Muslim communities in major cities throughout Europe to rise up and join us.”

“And when you have control of Southern Spain, you can use your position and prestige to support Islamic terrorists in the United States. You’ll be more of a hero to your people than Osama Bin Laden.”

General Zhou’s mind was racing ahead to operational logistics. “I see only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Will the government of Morocco block you from bringing in military equipment?”

“King Hassan is ill and ineffectual. I have been paying off Prime Minister Farez. We have reached an understanding. As long as I don’t launch any attacks here, he won’t bother me or my supporters. With the expanded activities you’re discussing, he’ll want more money. I don’t have it.”

“I can supply that to you. But I want something in return.”

“What’s that?”

“Also staying at our hotel in Marrakech is a Russian businessman, Mikail Ivanoff, three body guards and a young woman. My blonde friend Androshka is afraid Mikail will try to kill her. He is …”

Musa’s eyes were blazing. “General Ivanoff, formerly in the Russian army.”

General Zhou was alarmed. “You know him?”