Choke Point

“I want nothing less,” Khalidi said. “I deserve nothing less. No?”

“No.” Sahaf took a deep breath in an obvious gesture of collecting his thoughts. “To be plain, Abbas, I do not trust him because he has not made his goals known. I don’t trust men who won’t verbalize their personal or political ambitions. It speaks of a double-minded man who wavers when questioned about his past affiliations. Double-minded men can be very dangerous.”

Khalidi didn’t want to laugh but he couldn’t help himself in the moment.

Sahaf glowered. “Why do you laugh at me?”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Khalidi said. “I’m laughing because I seem to recall times when you first worked for me where you held your own ambitions rather close to the heart. I had to practically beat it out of you when looking for someone to oversee the construction of this facility. And now look!”

Khalidi rose and began to pace the small conference room, waving toward the invisible reinforcement beams high above them. “Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

“With your guidance, Abbas.” Sahaf sat back in the chair and folded his arms. “It was your vision that inspired me. I would have never achieved this on my own.”

“Of course not!” Khalidi said. “But that is exactly my point. Don’t you understand, Ebi? Don’t you see what the completion of this facility means? We are on the precipice of a success for Islam unlike anything ever foretold. Others merely eke out a paltry living while they stand along the side of Allah’s path and observe the trail of history. But we—” he slapped the table for emphasis “—we are making history!”

Khalidi took his seat once more. “When we started this project more than three years ago, I know you couldn’t ever see it coming to completion. And yet here you have attained an historical success. And yet you did not start off being plainly ambitious. Is it now so difficult to believe that success cannot be won by Genseric Biinadaz just because he is not forthright with alternative plans?”

“You are right, of course,” Sahaf said immediately. “I ask your forgiveness for not seeing it.”

“Ha! My friend, there is nothing to forgive,” Khalidi protested. “And you must know that I have not completely discounted your concerns. I’ve found you to be insightful and prodigious, single-minded in your goals and utterly ingenious. You are a superb reader of others and I would be an ignorant fool not to heed your advice. Particularly on a matter as important as our operations in America.”

“I appreciate your understanding, Abbas.”

“So exactly what is it you propose should concern us about Genseric?”

“I have received some disturbing information about our trafficking operations,” Sahaf said. “Information that indicates the Americans have agents now investigating the deaths of their officials, and the disappearance of the boy sired by this Congressman Acres.”

“Are you saying that Genseric claims not to know the boy’s whereabouts?”

“Yes.”

“He’s told you as much?”

“No, but one of my spies...” Sahaf’s voice dropped off and he expressed horror at the slip.

Khalidi studied his friend with a cold, hard expression for a long moment and then slowly he smiled broadly. “Ah, my dear Sahaf. Do not look so morose. Do you think I didn’t know you would have spies among the ranks? I wouldn’t doubt you have one or two even among my closest staff at Abd-el-Aziz. It’s quite okay as long as they are not spying on me.”

“Never, Abbas,” Sahaf said, coming out of his chair. “Never would I allow anyone to spy on you. I would tear them apart. I would—”

“Relax, Sahaf,” Khalidi said in a quiet but firm voice. “Please sit down.”

The scientist took his seat, removed his glasses and mopped his upper lip with a pocket towel.

“Go on,” Khalidi prompted.

“There are some indicators that Ibn Sayed has been slowly amassing a private army.”

“Private army of what?”

“Islamic jihad fighters,” Sahaf said, donning the glasses once more. “Most of them are said to be brothers who fought alongside him during Ibn Sayed’s days in Afghanistan, although a few may have already been in America before he arrived.”

“And what purpose is this army to serve?”

“That is not something I can know with any certainty yet. My spy has not yet been able to penetrate the inner circle. However, there are rumors that he is training this army at a secret camp somewhere in America. My concern is that he may try to overthrow our operations there, loosen our foothold and take over for himself.”

“And why would he do this?” Khalidi replied. “We have been more than generous with him.”

“I would completely agree but who knows what motivates the mind of some men. Ibn Sayed is a young man, trained to fight for the Islamic jihad from practically the day he was born. As a young warrior he will think like one. He’s brash and impetuous, and these are not traits that have proved themselves to make for particularly stable representatives in the past. He may see it as duty to Allah, or perhaps even as the only way to prove his commitment to the fatwas.”

“Bah! The days of Osama bin Laden’s reign are now long dead, buried with the old man and his arcane ideas. Surely an intelligent man like Genseric Biinadaz can see there is a new Muslim order worth fighting for. There are too few left who believe in the old ways, and most of them that do are all but impotent.”

“Maybe the old ways are dead but not necessarily in the minds of men like this one. Ibn Sayed is unpredictable, my friend—of this much I am certain. Whatever he plans to do with this army, if he has an army—”

“And you believe he does.”

“Yes...I believe he does.”

“You’ve given me a lot to consider, Sahaf.” Khalidi paused to think about this new turn of developments.

Khalidi had no doubts that someone like Biinadaz, a man with such experience and talents, could build a private army and use it to steal Khalidi’s operations. What didn’t make sense was the motive. An Islamic jihadist swore an oath as a warrior to promote only Islam and the laws of Allah—there had never been room in that oath for personal gain. If Biinadaz had no intention of taking over the human-trafficking ring Khalidi had established in America, that could only mean he had other plans that would ultimately divert his attention from those operations.

In either case, the amassing of such an army would doubtless prove a distraction and put Khalidi to considerable inconvenience, not to mention the effect on their timetable. They were ready to begin peak transshipment operations to all of their locations in Europe. There had never been a higher demand for the product Khalidi produced, neither in quantity nor in frequency of deliveries. With that increase would come more profit and that could only further the cause of the new Islamic regime Khalidi envisioned for the world.

“I must admit, Sahaf, that you have now solicited my complete attention,” Khalidi said. “I would appreciate you looking further into this matter and keeping me informed. If Biinadaz is building his own fighting force then he has done so without my permission. Such an activity could threaten our plans on a number of levels, in spite of whatever his intentions may be.”

“So I am to assume you’re giving me a free hand in this matter?”

Khalidi raised a hand of caution. “Only insofar as acquiring more proof of these allegations. When you’ve provided it, and only then, shall I decide what course of action may be necessary. Nothing can interfere with our plans. Nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, Abbas.”

“Excellent.” Khalidi rose from his seat and Sahaf followed suit. “And now, if it is convenient, I’d like to accompany you on a tour of the remainder of the complex, to see the areas that were not fully complete on my last visit. And then, perhaps, a few days’ leave on the surface. Allah knows you have earned that much.”

“With pleasure, Abbas,” Ebi Sahaf replied.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Daytona Beach, Florida

Everything is proceeding on schedule, Genseric Biinadaz thought. We grow stronger each day and soon we’ll be ready for phase two.

The thought brought a smile to his lips—the first time he could remember smiling in some time. Managing Abbas el Khalidi’s entire human-trafficking location from this part of the country had been a greater task than Biinadaz anticipated when he’d first agreed to undertake it, but what he now heard was proof that his hard work had paid off.

Not that this was the moment to become overconfident.

Rumblings among the ring’s network indicated that Khalidi could quite well be aware of Biinadaz’s extracurricular activities with regards to the Red Brood. What a farce that was! It sounded more like a Communist organization than a front for one of the largest human-trafficking networks in the world. And right under the Americans’ noses, which was why Biinadaz had opted to exploit it for his own purposes. Maybe Khalidi would have agreed with his idea and maybe not, but that didn’t really matter now. Biinadaz had sunk too much time and was too deep into it to give it all up now.

He would not give up his efforts without a fight and whether the great Abbas el Khalidi thought so or not, Biinadaz had now procured an army large enough and well equipped enough to hold that position indefinitely. There were many additional supporters who were not Islamic jihad fighters or trained combatants, but they had thrown other resources into the mix that only strengthened Biinadaz’s hold in America. This pooling of resources had proved beyond any doubt that Biinadaz’s war against the Great Satan could and would be won—it was only a matter of time.