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

their meals. Rather than have Karim take the risk of moving the tack-microphone, Steve looked on the bright side; the new location might provide interesting conversations among the Salafist guests. He therefore decided to leave well enough alone. Hank agreed.

     During their Wednesday meeting, Karim told Steve, “Tariq and Hussein are here. Tariq used his satellite phone almost right away to call Salim. He doesn’t get here until tomorrow. The only time when Tariq doesn’t carry the phone with him is during prayers. He leaves it in his room, I think.”

     With a hand-drawn sketch in front of them, Steve told Karim, “Show me the room assignments.”

     Acting like a zealous pupil, Karim asked, “Do you need to know about locks? There are no locks.”

     His face brightened as if he was personally responsible for this fact.

     “Most rooms have no windows, except high up, like in the room where I sleep with three others.”

     After trying to understand the sketch for what seemed to Steve like an unusual length of time, Karim pointed to his room triumphantly.

     “Is this the tower? Yes, you go in over here,” he pointed, “and al Khalil sleeps here. He has a window. It opens on this side. It’s a real window.”

     “Does his window open? Or is it one of the high ones you can’t reach?”

     “He has a desk in front of the window and he can see the courtyard from his desk.”

     He smiled and looked very pleased with himself.

     Steve smiled in return and gave him a pat on the back.

     “That’s good Karim.”

     Together they decided the best time to effect the transfer would be during the Friday prayer. Al Khalil, they hoped, would leave the phone in his room, or he would give it to Karim when he served as his bodyguard, as he sometimes did during that midday period. Karim would take the phone to Steve when everyone else was in the mosque, a room in the fort that al Khalil had so designated. Hank would then make the transfer, and Karim would take the gift from the CIA elves back to the fort.

25. Aéroport de Tombouctou

On Thursday, Hussein went with Karim, the driver, to welcome the Salafist leaders. Hussein saw a tired, rumpled and short-tempered group.

     One of the new arrivals looked in the van and, looking toward Hussein and Karim, said with an Egyptian accent, “There was no water on the plane and now you have no water for us. Can things get worse?”

     Neither Hussein nor Karim replied.

     The promising outline of the Hôtel Atlantide prompted the Egyptian to say, “At last, a place to stretch out and have something to drink.”

     But Karim continued past the hotel and about a mile out of town to a high-walled structure.

     Hussein, who sat on Karim’s right up front, turned to the men in back of him and said, “That’s where we’re staying. Not far from town and very secure. We have it to ourselves.”

     “I’m sure we do,” said Talal Kawar, who had identified himself to Hussein as the Jordanian Ikhwan chief. He wore black pants, a blazer and an ascot. His shiny black hair was combed straight back. The scent of his cologne wafted throughout the vehicle.

     “It was built and used by the French Foreign Legion,” Hussein said. “It was ceded to the Malian Army after independence.”

    The fort was the same color as the sand that surrounded it. On one side grew several tall palm trees creating shade for a small group of blue-clad Tuaregs sitting on the ground while their camels looked haughtily down at the world. A solid black flag with no design was waving in the intermittent breeze from the top of a crenellated tower rising from an inside courtyard. The tower and its flag dominated the external walls in the style of medieval castles. A massive front gate and a row of vertical slits about halfway up were the only openings in the fifty-foot-high wall.

     Karim took the new arrivals to their rooms. These had uniformly high ceilings, with one small barred window about fifteen feet above the floor. The furniture consisted of a cot with a burlap-covered straw mattress, a chair, and a small desk, on top of which was a carafe of water and a plastic glass. Down the narrow corridor were a common toilet and a separate washroom with several large jars of water.

     Tariq greeted each of the delegates as they came into the former military fort and, during the rest of the afternoon, visited with them individually. Everyone took note that al Khalil took a brief walk in the courtyard with Ibrahim El Maghrebi, the Algerian AQIM leader, before taking him to his room.

     He asked Hussein, “Have somebody bring us some tea. I want to share some of our financial realities with my brother Ibrahim.”

***

At sunset, they all came together for prayers after which they broke up into informal groups until dinnertime. They prayed again at nightfall. Everyone was awaiting the next day, Friday, when Tariq would give the khutbah, or sermon.

     Steve and Hank also waited for the khutbah that would give Karim his chance to steal the phone. Late in the day, they received a partial transcript from Langley of the take from the tack-mic in the canteen. They were in Hank’s room. He sat in the easy chair and Steve sat on the bed. Although Hank had a portable printer, Steve read the transcript on Hank’s computer.

Voice number one: I don’t understand why we can’t meet in Paris or in Geneva. Next thing we know we’ll be whipping ourselves bloody like Shiites.

Voice number two: [identified as AQIM chief Ibrahim el Maghrebi] Stop whining. In Algeria we’re fighting with bullets not with cocktail shakers.

Voice number