Jihad

CHAPTER 66

Karr’s take on the German mission could be summed up in one word: bust.

They’d been consistently one step behind the terrorists, hampered by German laws restricting investigations. Al-Qaeda had succeeded in disrupting operations at Europe’s largest refinery, which sent a chill through the commodities market, raising the price of oil twenty dollars a barrel.

The German point of view was considerably more upbeat. The terrorists had detonated their bombs inexpertly, causing far less damage than they intended; the plant kept its vital fuel operations going, and the damage done could be repaired within a few weeks. Meanwhile, a previously unknown al-Qaeda cell had been rolled up. The chemist had been arrested at the bar with the key to the tackle shop gate still in his pocket; he’d gotten it from a girlfriend who’d worked there some weeks before, probably at his urging. The chemist had not manufactured the bomb material — it was a plastic explosive traced to pilfered Czech military stores — but he had raw materials needed to create other explosives, a serious crime under German law. The authorities were confident he would implicate other members of the network in exchange for “consideration” at sentencing.

Six terrorists who had taken part in the operation had died, either by killing themselves or failing to surrender when ordered to. Only two of the men had been identified so far.

Marid Dabir was missing. Fingerprints and hairs matching those in the house the al-Qaeda organizer had rented were found in an abandoned car near the plant. German intelligence was convinced that he had died in the operation and was planning DNA tests to confirm this.

“Except that it’s extremely out of character for an important al-Qaeda lieutenant to kill himself,” Karr told Hess. “They get other suckers to do the dirty work for them. I’d be searching under every rock and in every sewer for him if I were you.”

Hess answered by asking if she could get him a ride to the airport.

His mission in Germany over, Karr was due a good hunk of R&R time, and he knew just where and how to spend it — in Paris with his girlfriend, who was going to school there. But the Art Room had other plans.

“Tommy, we need you in Paris,” Marie Telach told him when he checked in from the Munich airport. “We’re looking for a flight now.”

“What a coincidence,” he said. “That’s why I’m calling.”

“Asad is going to de Gaulle Airport. We need you to trail him from there.”

“In Paris. Cool.”

“No, probably not. He has a connecting flight to the U.S. We’re going to get you a seat. In fact, we’ll get you a seat on every plane coming out of that airport, just to be sure.”

Anyone else would have groused. Karr, being Karr, laughed, then asked if he had time for lunch before making the flight to France.

“Better eat on the plane,” Telach told him.