The Hundred Gram Mission

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Authors: Navin Weeraratne
have ruined our plans. The Chinese had no idea we were in the area. Now, they will clean us out. In Congo they were very thorough, I was lucky to escape."
    A child looked up and saw the man by the window. He waved, suddenly all smiles. The man waved back.
    "I don't think it is us they will come after said," the old man. "Sukarno’s group is ready to follow their own path. It is how these things happen. They are too different, too hotheaded. China will not confuse them with us. All the same, it is a good thing the Indonesians don't know about Black Fire."
    The fat man glared at him. "Has anyone told the Chinese this? Because in the video Sukarno is quite clear that he is part of Jemaat Ansar. You think the Chinese won't seek us? What happens when they trace the money? That's when people will start to find out about Black Fire."
    At the window, the man held his phone up to the sun. The app read his location and facing. A drop down menu appeared, showing him what spy satellites were passing overhead.
    "The money cannot be traced," said the suit. "You do not understand crypto-currencies. Our money is completely anonymous. Pretend it is like our websites."
    "That’s not correct," said the kid. "Our websites are hidden services. Anyone with the right onion address can access them. They just cannot find our computers."
    "Yes, but that is all too much for Faisal," the suit waggled his finger. "He is a dinosaur of Hawala [xiii] banking and message couriers. If he does not understand anonymity networks and crypto currencies, today is not the day for us to try and change that."
    "Hisham, you insult me brother, but you do not have to worry about drone strikes, over in Dubai," the fat man’s eyes were slits. "Look, whether you call it the natural splitting of jihadist movements, or the actions of village idiots, Sukarno has declared his presence to the Chinese and given them our name .  How can you all be so sure they will not find us? Do you think any effort will be spared if they learn what we are working on?"
    The man at the window put away his phone, and cleared his throat. The others turned and looked to him.
    "I feel you are all correct," his bald head gleamed. "Sukarno’s actions are insubordinate in the extreme. Our operation against the Chinese space elevator is now compromised. We have to abandon it, but it was never our main goal. We must get Al-Rawi and his men out, and cut Sukarno’s funding."
    "He will not like that," the older man said.
    "We will do it slowly. If he survives the Chinese, I want to be able to work with him again, someday. And if they are really splitting off, then he will have to find his own funding, anyway. I understand they have stolen a high end, pharmaceuticals printer?  He is already doing the needful. Between narcotics, medicine, and the sex trade, they will do fine."
    "He has named us," said Faisal the fat man, fidgeting.
    "And the Chinese will come looking for us. This cannot be helped. We knew we would be identified and hunted, sooner or later."
    "But not this soon, Father," said the kid. "Black Fire is not ready yet."
    "Indeed Wahlid. But there is very little that can be tied to us.  All jihadists fight to protect Islam against the power of nonbelievers, apostates, or abuse by our own. Their targets are governments, foreign troops, infidels.  They goals are to expel invaders from Moslem lands, or to bring Islamic rule to wayward ones. They fight for land, water, power."
    "We do none of these things," said Hisham, the suit.
    "Exactly. We are an outlier, we will make no more sense to their intelligent computers and analysts, than we do to our own, ignorant, brothers and sisters. We are jihadists against technologies that can weaken the emerging Caliphate [xiv] . With each dry drinking well, each empty plate, the consciousness of the world’s Islamic peoples grows. Those who have subjugated them grow weaker, as will their infidel allies.  This century is like a great fast. When it is

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