The Caliphate, André Gallo [best books to read ever .TXT] 📗

that two years ago I was initiated into the Knights of Malta, an organization created in Jerusalem in A.D. 1099. I think you would make a great addition to the Order and I would be proud to sponsor you. The investiture is scheduled to take place at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. The ceremony itself dates back centuries; a lot of tradition there.”

     Steve had avoided following in his father’s wake, but he was intrigued by the offer.

     “What is the purpose of the Order, exactly? What do you do?”

     “Exactly?” Marshall grinned. “We raise money for wounded veterans from Afghanistan and Iraq. That’s what my chapter does anyway. Each chapter has its favorite cause.”

     “Sounds like a good cause. Let me think about it. You think I qualify to be a member?”

     “Well, there’s no test, if that’s what you mean. It is a Christian organization—it started in the Holy Land during the Crusades. We look for professional people who have attained a high level of accomplishment in their field. And the usual qualities, you know, trustworthiness, integrity, the usual personal values.”

     Steve looked serious.

     “I’m just getting started. I don’t have accomplishments.”

     “You’re wrong about that. But it’s also for people who we think have all of the personal attributes and who we judge will become successful. And that’s you. Am I wrong?”

     He grinned again.

     Steve didn’t want a confrontation with Marshall at this point. In fact, the offer actually sounded interesting. It sounded even better when Marshall added, “While we’re in Israel we can visit some of the Crusader castles—all part of the Order’s history.”

***

The next day, he met his new instructor Juan, dressed in boots and cammies. Juan had black hair and a squat build. Steve learned over the next forty-eight hours that Juan was a former Special Forces master sergeant who had trained counter-narcotics forces in Colombia and Mexico.

     “I’m going to introduce you to weapons and explosives,” Juan told him. “We don’t expect you to use them but you need some knowledge for defensive reasons.”

     That day, Steve fired the Glock and other personal weapons. He was shown the various improvised explosive devices used by international terrorists and how these groups built and used car bombs, a weapon of choice in the Middle East.

     On the way back from the range in the old Ford Fairlane assigned for his training by the Base’s administration, Steve asked, “What about butane bombs?”

     “Yes, I heard about your experience in Morocco. Using the pressure inside the butane cylinder multiplies the force of the blast several fold—more bang for the buck. I understand they used Semtex to set it off. I’m not surprised. Remember Vaclav Havel, who became President of Czechoslovakia? He said that during the Cold War, his country had sold or given enough Semtex for the worlds’ terrorists to have an ample supply for the next one-hundred-fifty years.”

***

When Juan picked up Steve the next day, he told him over coffee at a table in the kitchen, “Today, you make an IED and set it off. Like yesterday, the purpose is defensive. The rule of the range is that the student picks up his own duds—that means that if your device doesn’t explode, it’s your job to go pick it up. Nothing new about that; sort of like packing your own parachute.”

     They drove out to the range and, following Juan’s directions, Steve timed a six-inch piece of fuse, which allowed him to then cut a length that would burn for forty-five seconds. Steve held the cap up to his eyes and crimped the metal around the fuse.

     He pushed the cap into the C-4 and walked it out about fifty feet. Then he lit the fuse, turned around and walked back with a determined but unhurried step. Juan had taught him that, when dealing with explosives, one needed to be calm and measured.

     They both got into the bunker and watched through a quartz bomb-blast window and waited. Juan looked at his watch and said, “It’s been two minutes. Wait another minute and then go get it.” Juan watched him closely, Steve assumed, for any signs of fear or nervousness, but Steve was determined to show none.

     A long minute went by. They were waiting and watching through the window. Juan looked at his watch and said, “Time.” Steve started out of the bunker.

     “Don’t worry,” Juan said, “we’ve only lost a few students. Besides it would look bad on my record. Seriously, I’ll go with you, Steve.”

     “No. I don’t need any special favors. If the SOP is for me to get it, I’ll get it.”

     As he walked out of the bunker, the instructor followed and quickly caught up with him. Having Juan beside him made Steve feel that the danger was acceptable—here was someone whose expertise was explosives; he wouldn’t be with him if he thought the risk was high.

     They walked toward the IED, both watching closely for telltale smoke. Steve and Juan stood for another second by the device before the instructor picked it up and pulled the fuse out of the detonating cap.

     He gave the whole package to Steve and told him, “The problem was that you didn’t push the fuse into the cap firmly enough. Also, we normally use two fuses and two caps for insurance, but I didn’t tell you to do that this time. The problem was in part mine. That’s why I came with you.”

     He had Steve do it again, with two detonator caps, and this time the device exploded, sending a cloud of dirt and rocks up into the sky.

     As they left the range, Juan said, “Now that I gave you instructions on what headquarters thought you should know, tomorrow morning I’ll show you what headquarters should