Read Online Jihad by Stephen Coonts - Free Book Online Page B

injured,” Dabir said, gesturing at the bandage on Asad’s head. “I feared our meeting would be delayed.”
    “It’s of no consequence. An unfortunate mishap.”
    Asad offered his guest some of the water he had been drinking, along with a plate of Syrian figs. They sat next to each other on the couch in the Turk’s small room.
    “It has been a long time,” Asad told his visitor. “Quite long.”
    “Not of my own choosing.”
    “The Sheik sends his blessings.”
    Others might honor Asad by calling him “sheik,” but there was only one man in the world Asad would refer to by that name. Dabir knew instantly that he was referring to Osama bin Laden, and bowed his head.
    Such a show, thought Asad. As if the man had no vanity or ambitions. But he wasn’t fooled.
    Three years before, Marid Dabir had been as close to bin Laden as Asad. But Dabir’s ambitions to succeed the great leader had caused so much division among the al-Qaeda followers that finally the Sheik had given him tasks far from the leadership circle in Pakistan. Dabir, stubborn as always, went on his own initiative to Europe, settling in Germany and starting his own organization there. In doing so, he ignored the networks others had already established. It was rumored that he had done this elsewhere as well, though Germany was where he was based.
    And now he was back in the Sheik’s good graces, an important part of the plan for the second offensive against the West. Asad regarded him as a dangerous enemy still, but even a demon could be useful in the campaign against the followers of the devil.
    “You are prepared?” Asad asked.
    Dabir nodded.
    “Good.” Asad excused himself and left the room, walking to the room he had been given as a bedroom. He retrieved a small Koran from his cloth bag and went back to the room.
    In his absence, Dabir had eaten all of the fruit. Asad pretended not to notice. He handed him the holy book.
    “God is powerful,” said Asad. Then, seeing no need to prolong the meeting, added, “I seem to be a little tired.”
    Dabir nodded. “Until we meet.”
    “May it be in paradise.”
    They kissed each others’ cheeks and took their leave so warmly, even a careful observer might have thought they were the greatest of friends.

CHAPTER 25
     
    RUBENS TOOK THE phone with him as he walked across the secure communications center in the White House basement, listening as Telach told him about what had happened at the hospital.
    “The Istanbul police seem to think it was retaliation for the accident,” continued Telach. “There’s a lot of smuggling activity through the port, and with the Russian mob involved, the rumors are already flying. We’ve sent an anonymous e-mail to one of the papers to help the theory along.”
    “Very good,” said Rubens. “And the driver?”
    “On his way to the airport. Asad is meeting with someone right now,” added the Art Room supervisor. “Hold on.”
    Rubens checked his watch; he was due upstairs to talk to Donna Bing, the new national security advisor, in five minutes, which meant that he was already late. But this was worth being late for. They’d been planning the Red Lion operation for just over two years, ever since the bugging device was successfully tested. Picking the right subject, getting the president’s approval—a lot of hard work was about to pay off.
    But not necessarily right away.
    “He’s leaving. He said nothing.”
    “Nothing?”
    Telach turned him over to one of the Arab translators, who said that both men sounded as if they had come from Yemen or Saudi Arabia. Their conversation had consisted entirely of greetings and stock religious phrases.
    “Who was the other man?” Rubens asked Telach.
    “We’re not sure yet.”
    “Have Mr. Karr follow him.”
    “He’s already on it.”
     
    RUBENS HATED LUNCH meetings for any number of reasons, starting with the fact that it was difficult to discuss matters of state with the deserved gravitas while wiping