Read Online THE SPANISH REVENGE (Craig Page series) by Allan Topol - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allan Topol
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yourself. I want people around the world to know how aggressively we moved to try and stop this attack. And how vigilant we will be in the future. You’re better able to deal with an international audience.”
Giuseppe said, “Perhaps Craig should do the CNN interview back in Paris. Let people know that Spain is not alone in this. That the European Counterterrorism Agency is involved as well. And that the next attack could come anywhere in the EU.”
“Excellent points.” The Prime Minister said. “I’ll have my plane fly Craig back.”
As Craig stood to leave, he picked up his Blackberry. It began vibrating. A message from the Seville forensic people. “French police matched the bomber’s prints with those of Ibrahami Shabelle, arrested in Paris on October 30, 2005. This is a precise match.”
Craig read the message aloud. Carlos immediately grasped its significance. “If we could find out whom Ibrahami was involved with, we could get a lead on Musa.”
“Precisely.
Zahara pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “So we might be able to find and capture these bastards!”
Though Alvarez was sulking while twirling his mustache, the others now seemed hopeful. Craig tried to temper his own enthusiasm. He had seen enough leads like this dry up over the years. He turned to Carlos, “Check with all Spanish agencies. See if they have Ibrahami in any of their databases.”
Then Craig called Jacques in Paris. After explaining what he just learned, Craig said, “I need your help.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’ll get right on it. I’ll let you know as soon as I have a bio on Ibrahami.”
As he flew north, Craig closed his weary eyes and held his head. His was a cruel job, with no margin for error. Failure was measured in numbers of lives lost. That made today a disaster.
Musa was dreadful, contemptible. A monster. What kind of person kills innocent children … women … men … so cruelly? Craig vowed to hunt and to kill the man calling himself Musa Ben Abdil, if it was the last thing he ever did.
10
PARIS
Craig was dismayed. As soon as he entered the CNN studio on the elegant Avenue Montaigne in Paris in the early evening, the petite news director, Marie Laval, clipboard in hand, met him and said, “Jean Claude Moreau will be interviewing you.”
Craig didn’t like doing television interviews. He realized they went with the job, but they were among his least favorable activities. And he detested Jean Claude. The man was abrasive and self aggrandizing. His primary motivation was making a splash and maximizing his ratings. He wasn’t interested in obtaining facts. In his desire to make himself look good, the often bombastic Jean Claude was hypercritical of his interviewees, constantly denigrating them. Craig’s previous two interviews with Jean Claude had ended in shouting matches.
“Why Jean Claude?” Craig asked. “His program finishes at 8:00 p.m. It’s already 8:10.”
“He decided to stay late. Just to do your interview.”
“I guess it’s my lucky day.”
Marie wasn’t amused. “You asked for this interview. We’re accommodating you. We’ll start at 8:30.”
Jean Claude was tall, six-two, and handsome. At forty-nine, he had incredibly thick, wavy, brown hair, which Craig suspected was a toupee. He dressed in expensive suits and ties along with bright-colored, striped shirts. He had a wide smile, and Craig guessed he spent a lot time bleaching his teeth. Craig had never seen teeth so sparkling white.
“It’s an honor to have back the world’s greatest terrorist hunter,” Jean Claude said, while a technician hooked a microphone to Craig’s lapel.
“Very amusing.”
“Sounds like you’re having a bad day.”
Craig realized he had sounded irritable. And no wonder. He hadn’t slept last night. Then so much had happened today. Still, he had to pull together. He’d be talking to millions of people.
Craig and John Claude sat next to each other at a long wooden desk,
Giuseppe said, “Perhaps Craig should do the CNN interview back in Paris. Let people know that Spain is not alone in this. That the European Counterterrorism Agency is involved as well. And that the next attack could come anywhere in the EU.”
“Excellent points.” The Prime Minister said. “I’ll have my plane fly Craig back.”
As Craig stood to leave, he picked up his Blackberry. It began vibrating. A message from the Seville forensic people. “French police matched the bomber’s prints with those of Ibrahami Shabelle, arrested in Paris on October 30, 2005. This is a precise match.”
Craig read the message aloud. Carlos immediately grasped its significance. “If we could find out whom Ibrahami was involved with, we could get a lead on Musa.”
“Precisely.
Zahara pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “So we might be able to find and capture these bastards!”
Though Alvarez was sulking while twirling his mustache, the others now seemed hopeful. Craig tried to temper his own enthusiasm. He had seen enough leads like this dry up over the years. He turned to Carlos, “Check with all Spanish agencies. See if they have Ibrahami in any of their databases.”
Then Craig called Jacques in Paris. After explaining what he just learned, Craig said, “I need your help.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’ll get right on it. I’ll let you know as soon as I have a bio on Ibrahami.”
As he flew north, Craig closed his weary eyes and held his head. His was a cruel job, with no margin for error. Failure was measured in numbers of lives lost. That made today a disaster.
Musa was dreadful, contemptible. A monster. What kind of person kills innocent children … women … men … so cruelly? Craig vowed to hunt and to kill the man calling himself Musa Ben Abdil, if it was the last thing he ever did.
10
PARIS
Craig was dismayed. As soon as he entered the CNN studio on the elegant Avenue Montaigne in Paris in the early evening, the petite news director, Marie Laval, clipboard in hand, met him and said, “Jean Claude Moreau will be interviewing you.”
Craig didn’t like doing television interviews. He realized they went with the job, but they were among his least favorable activities. And he detested Jean Claude. The man was abrasive and self aggrandizing. His primary motivation was making a splash and maximizing his ratings. He wasn’t interested in obtaining facts. In his desire to make himself look good, the often bombastic Jean Claude was hypercritical of his interviewees, constantly denigrating them. Craig’s previous two interviews with Jean Claude had ended in shouting matches.
“Why Jean Claude?” Craig asked. “His program finishes at 8:00 p.m. It’s already 8:10.”
“He decided to stay late. Just to do your interview.”
“I guess it’s my lucky day.”
Marie wasn’t amused. “You asked for this interview. We’re accommodating you. We’ll start at 8:30.”
Jean Claude was tall, six-two, and handsome. At forty-nine, he had incredibly thick, wavy, brown hair, which Craig suspected was a toupee. He dressed in expensive suits and ties along with bright-colored, striped shirts. He had a wide smile, and Craig guessed he spent a lot time bleaching his teeth. Craig had never seen teeth so sparkling white.
“It’s an honor to have back the world’s greatest terrorist hunter,” Jean Claude said, while a technician hooked a microphone to Craig’s lapel.
“Very amusing.”
“Sounds like you’re having a bad day.”
Craig realized he had sounded irritable. And no wonder. He hadn’t slept last night. Then so much had happened today. Still, he had to pull together. He’d be talking to millions of people.
Craig and John Claude sat next to each other at a long wooden desk,
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