The Beijing conspiracy

CHAPTER 38

A mon al-Falid walked unhurriedly down the Street of the Storytellers and through the teeming Kissa Khawani Bazaar. He was in good spirits but he remained alert and watchful; where there was one CIA agent there were likely to be more. Another infidel had been dealt with and the Americans still had no idea who he really was. Like the London bombers, he was one of their own, and he said a silent prayer of thanks for Kadeer’s foresight in persuading him to stay the course and endure the campus taunts against Islam, something for which the infidel would now pay and pay dearly. al-Falid was very confident that Kadeer’s plans could be executed successfully, and at last, Allah be praised, the one true religion of Islam could be spread the length and breadth of the earth.

He paused at a leather goods stall in the crowded bazaar and casually looked around to make sure he wasn’t being followed. The Urdu-speaking al-Falid mingled effortlessly among the teeming humanity of the Old City. He moved on, glancing at a sign outside what passed for the lobby of a hotel. It read ‘Guns cannot be brought into the hotel. Gunmen must check their arms at reception’. al-Falid smiled to himself. The wild west of Pakistan was one that the US would come to fear, and unlike the Dodge Cities of US history, Peshawar and the North-West Frontier Province would never be tamed. A little further down the Street of the Storytellers, he passed a barber’s shop. The first customer was already seated in the old wooden chair out the front, his head resting on a tattered leather headrest that had been tied to a stick poking up from the chair’s back, and the barber was sharpening a fearsome-looking blade on a black leather strop. Next to the barber’s, above a grubby corrugated iron awning, an alarming 2-metre high painting of gleaming white teeth and garish pink gums announced that a dentist was open to those who might be brave enough to enter. al-Falid shook his head good-naturedly to yet another offer of ‘tuk-tuk?’, and he stopped briefly in front of a brazier stall, feigning interest in the kebabs that were sizzling on the grate. Again he mentally photographed the narrow thoroughfare with its brightly coloured tuk-tuks competing with the donkeys pulling tongas that were overloaded with sacks of spices, seeds and potatoes. Satisfied, al-Falid turned off into a twisting side alley, pausing for a final check before he reached the entrance to the al-Qaeda safe house. The doors were solid teak and the understated but delicate carving was an exquisite example of the very architecture he claimed to be studying.

After the pre-arranged knock, the heavy doors opened and one of Kadeer’s bodyguards beckoned him inside with a wave of his Kalashnikov. al-Falid followed the man down some worn wooden steps into a cellar that was nearly 12 metres below the ground. It was similar to those of many of the houses in the Old City, designed to keep food and other stores cool during the scorching summers. This one served the same purpose, but it also provided protection against eavesdropping.

As al-Falid entered the cellar, the unmistakable figure of Dr Khalid Kadeer rose from the big cushions scattered on the matting covering the dirt floor. He greeted al-Falid with a traditional hug and kisses to both cheeks.

‘Welcome Amon. Your trip was without incident?’

‘Not entirely,’ al-Falid said.

‘They are very arrogant and stupid, these Americans,’ Kadeer observed when al-Falid had finished filling in his spiritual leader on the events of the past 48 hours. ‘That is one of the reasons they will probably not heed the warnings I am about to send them,’ he said, a touch of sadness in his voice.

‘I hope they don’t,’ al-Falid replied angrily. ‘Their religious leaders are now describing Islam as an evil religion. One of them referred to the great Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, as a “demon obsessed paedophile”!’ al-Falid almost choked on the words, determined that his leader should understand what was happening in the land of the great Satan.

‘I heard those remarks,’ Kadeer said quietly. ‘al-Jazeera, Allah be praised, is now providing us all with a great service.’

‘Then you have seen the cartoons Khalid!’

Kadeer nodded. ‘We should not be so concerned about those, Amon,’ he said, cautioning his lieutenant against emotion. ‘Islam is bigger than that. As Muslims we should not forget ahl al-kitab, the Jews and the Christians, the People of the Book. The great Prophet, peace be upon him, was always mindful of the earlier revelations of Abraham, and he always instructed us to treat the people of the earlier revelations, the Jews and the Christians, with respect. It is not the People of the Book with whom we quarrel, Amon. Our quarrel is with the corrupt and lying western and Chinese leaders who persecute our people in the Middle East and in Xinjiang. Our quarrel is with the western Imams who denounce the Angel Gabriel’s revelations to the Prophet, peace be upon him, and who ridicule Islam and the way we dress, encouraging the Jews and the Christians to rise up against us.’ The great Muslim philosopher still hoped for a peaceful solution, but not at the expense of his people and his faith.

‘The plans for the attacks are on schedule?’ he asked al-Falid.