They shook their heads.

"Okay, then, support. Radios?" I pointed at Hubba-Hubba.

"Yes, I have laid everything out for you to check, and I now have more batteries. More batteries than I'm shaking a stick at."

Lotfi laughed. "More batteries than you can shake a stick at..." He turned to me, his eyebrow raised. "You see, Nick? This boy needs help."

I gestured at Hubba-Hubba. "Thanks, mate. I'll go down and do a final check of the gear after this. In the meantime, do you both remember the phone number? I'll start-zero four."

Hubba-Hubba went, "Ninety-three, forty-five." Lotfi picked it up for the four numbers after that.

"Great. Phone cards?" I reached into my f.a.n.n.y pack and pulled out my wallet and phone card, and they produced theirs. The phone booths here worked on cards that you could buy anywhere, and ours were all worth a hundred francs.

"Okay, last thing, insulin pens?"

Hubba-Hubba nodded. "Downstairs."

"Good. After we've finished here, I want you two to go and do your recces of BSM. Hubba-Hubba, make sure you finish by ten tomorrow morning. Lotfi, you go between eleven-thirty and one-thirty, because I want us all clear of the area before the boat comes in. We will meet back here tomorrow at nineteen hundred unless you hear from me online before sixteen, telling you otherwise. Can you make e-mail at that time of day?"

They nodded. Lotfi piped up. "I will pray before leaving. It could be the last time for a few days, or forever. Who knows these things but G.o.d?"

I watched him shove the coffee table to the side of the couch while Hubba-Hubba went into the kitchen to start on the cleanup.

I leaned against the wall while he prepared himself, watching as he took off his sneakers. "Ramadan started on the sixteenth of November, right? So how come you're working, eating, and drinking-I thought someone like you would have stopped by now."

He placed his sneakers neatly beside him. "To a Muslim, saving life is mandatory. If he or she does not have strength to do so without food, then it is mandatory to break the fast. Saving life, that is what we are doing, no? Do you think Muslim doctors stop work?"

It made sense to me. "If they did, most of the hospitals across Europe would close down."

He started to adjust his shower cap.

"By the way, I read that article in the Tribune Tribune you told me about. I didn't realize the Virgin Mary gets more mentions in the Qur'an than she does in the Bible." you told me about. I didn't realize the Virgin Mary gets more mentions in the Qur'an than she does in the Bible."

He tucked in two rogue strands of hair. "Jesus is also revered in the Qur'an."

"I've never really had much time for him. I could never be bothered to get out of bed on Sundays."

He rewarded my glibness with a quiet smile. "So what gives you conviction, morals, fulfills your life?"

I hated being asked questions by people who were so squared away. "I guess I just get by day to day, you know how it is."

"No, I don't know. That's a sad thing, Nick. I feel sorry for you. There is so much you have missed." He gave me a stare so penetrating that I found myself looking away, checking on Hubba-Hubba behind me. "It must be painful being so empty inside..."

"I like to keep things simple, just seems better that way." I was starting to wish I hadn't opened my mouth.

"Simplicity is good, Nick. Emptiness is not." His expression softened again. "But there is always time to learn, time to fill yourself. You know, both the Bible and the Qur'an trace a common lineage back to Abraham and Adam. There really is a lot we all can learn from them. Maybe you should read them one day, they have made many people whole."

I smiled. He smiled back, knowing there was more chance of me being struck by lightning.

He turned his back to me so that he was facing east, in the direction of the TV. As he went down on his knees, I couldn't resist asking, "Is that why the world's so full of justice, mercy, and compa.s.sion?"

"I see you took your time reading that article, didn't you?"

He didn't look back, but I could see the fuzzy reflection of his face in the TV screen. "Justice, mercy, and compa.s.sion, that would be perfect, don't you think? But when I think of people like the ASUs in America, who use my religion as a vehicle for their own selfish anger, I see no justice, and find it difficult to feel mercy and compa.s.sion. But G.o.d has helped me overcome these things. You see, these people, these ASUs, they call themselves Muslims. But they are not truly so. In a.s.sociating their acts with the will of G.o.d, they are guilty of shirk shirk. This is the most unforgivable sin. So it is my duty as a true Muslim, someone who really has submitted himself to G.o.d, to send those who are sinning in his name before his angels, for their book of destiny to be weighed."

I thought he and George should get together one day over coffee. They'd have plenty to talk about.

"At this time, G.o.d will decide what becomes of them. He decides everything, all our destinies."

"That's Kismet, right?"

He turned back toward me as a car with a iffy exhaust rattled past the window. "What do you know of Kismet, Nick?"

"Not much." I grinned. "I saw the film when I was a kid. Loads of your mates flying around on magic carpets, that sort of stuff."

"You make jokes to cover up so many things, don't you?"

I shrugged, fighting back another stupid remark.

"Kismet, justice, mercy, and compa.s.sion. You have been studying a little bit more than that article since we last spoke, haven't you? Here is something else for you to think about." He turned back to the TV, sat on his heels, and rocked slightly from side to side to adjust himself. He looked completely ridiculous in his shower cap, but spoke with such dignity I found myself hanging on his every word. "In Sura 28:88, the Qur'an says: 'And cry not unto any other G.o.d along with Allah. There is no G.o.d save Him.'

"Now where have we heard these words before? We sound the same, and we are the same, in so many ways, except that the Bible has stories about our G.o.d written by many people, sometimes hundreds of years after the event, while the Qur'an holds G.o.d's very words, spoken directly to the Prophet.

"That's why one in five people on the planet is a Muslim, Nick. We feel closer to G.o.d."

I shifted myself away from the wall. "Well, ask him to keep an eye on us over the weekend, will you? We might need a hand."

"Of course. But you know true believers are always triumphant over nonbelievers, in the end. Maybe you will be able to put a good word in yourself, one day."

18.

I went into the kitchen. Hubba-Hubba was rubber-glove deep in dishwashing suds as he cleaned the coffee things. went into the kitchen. Hubba-Hubba was rubber-glove deep in dishwashing suds as he cleaned the coffee things.

"See you down there."

He nodded as he tackled a stubborn coffee stain. His aunt would have been proud of him. The sounds of Lotfi at prayer floated in from the living room as I lifted the trapdoor and went down the wooden ladder into the musty coolness of the cellar. It wasn't that big, maybe three yards by three, but high enough to stand up in. In the far corner was a coa.r.s.e green blanket laid out with all our equipment in very straight lines.

Hubba-Hubba really did like order. Squared up with the edge of the blanket were our radios, binoculars, and the drug packs we'd need to subdue the hawallada hawallada.

I knelt in the dust of the stone floor and checked the radios first. They were small yellow Sony walkie-talkies, the sort of things designed for parents to keep track of their kids on ski trips or in the mall. We had two each, one on our bodies, one as a backup in the trunk of each car. If there was a drama with anyone's radio, they could either get their own spare or go to another vehicle, take the key hidden behind the rear license plate, and help themselves to a replacement.

The Sonys only had a communications distance of about a mile and a half, virtually line of sight. It would have been better to have a longer-distance set in case we got split up during the follow, but at least it meant we couldn't be listened to out of that range. Taped to the bottom of each were eight AA batteries: two batches of standby power. Attached to a plug was a cell phone, hands-free with a plastic earclip. The jack was taped firmly in place so it didn't fall out when someone was sending, because Murphy's Law dictated that that was exactly when it would get pulled out, and we'd be in loud time, treating the world to a running commentary on what we were up to.

The row of three rectangular gray plastic cases, each about seven inches long and three wide, contained enough anesthetic to send an elephant to sleep. They were disguised as diabetics' insulin kits. I opened one to check the thin green autopen, sunk into its hard plastic recess. It was already loaded with a needle and cartridge. Also embedded into the plastic were another three needles that simply clicked onto the bottom of the pen, and another three cartridges. Once you had it against the target's skin, you pressed the trigger, and the spring inside would shoot the needle forward and inject the drug, which in this case wasn't insulin but ketamine. Alongside them was a card holding six diaper pins, with big pink plastic caps. The hawallada hawallada wouldn't be too worried about the color: the pins were to prevent their tongues falling down their throats and choking them. Depressed ventilation was a side effect of this stuff, so their airway had to be kept clear at all times. wouldn't be too worried about the color: the pins were to prevent their tongues falling down their throats and choking them. Depressed ventilation was a side effect of this stuff, so their airway had to be kept clear at all times.

I started to check the other two insulin kits, making sure that each also contained a scratched and worn steel Medic Alert bracelet as cover, warning anyone who was interested enough to check that we were, strangely, all diabetic.

Ketamine hydrochloride-street name "Special K" or "K"-is still used as a general anesthetic for children, persons of poor health, and small furry animals. It is also a "dissociative anesthetic," separating perception from sensation. Higher doses, the sort we were going to give, produce a hallucinogenic effect. It can cause the user to feel very far away from his or her body. They enter what some people call a "K-hole"; it has been compared to a near-death experience, with the sensation of rising above one's body and finding it difficult to move. I had that feeling most mornings, but the amount these hawallada hawallada would be getting, they'd be waving through the s.p.a.ce shuttle window. would be getting, they'd be waving through the s.p.a.ce shuttle window.

In powder form, ketamine looks a little like cocaine; street users snort it, mix it in drinks, or smoke it with marijuana. Our hawallada hawallada were going to be getting it in liquid form, jabbed into the muscle ma.s.s of their a.s.s where there was little risk of us. .h.i.tting a blood vessel and causing permanent damage. were going to be getting it in liquid form, jabbed into the muscle ma.s.s of their a.s.s where there was little risk of us. .h.i.tting a blood vessel and causing permanent damage.

The three sets of green binos were small x8, the sort that fits into a coat pocket. We needed them in case we couldn't close in on the boat for the trigger and had to get eyes on the target from a distance.

All these items were important, but none more so than the dark blue plastic cylinder that lay at the center of the blanket. About eighteen inches long and three in diameter, it came apart if you twisted it in the middle. A length of fishing line had been fed through a small hole that we'd burnt with a hot skewer just by the join, and was held in position by a strip of insulation tape on the outside of the casing, which had been folded back on itself to make a tab for easy removal.

The cylinder looked like it had come from a stationery shop, and was normally used for storing rolled-up drawings. Now it was full of some very exotic HE (high explosive) taken from a consignment made in Iran and sent to GIA in Algeria, but intercepted by the Egyptians on the way. I'd collected it at the same time as the insulin kits from the DOP, when I first got in-country.

Like everything else on this job, the components from which the pipe bomb was constructed were normal everyday items that could be bought cheaply and without raising eyebrows. Hubba-Hubba had bought all the supplies he needed from hardware stores: wooden clothespins, emery paper, thumbtacks, a small soldering set, wire, superglue, insulation tape. The last item on the shopping list had come from a phone shop.

I felt a little guilty about giving Hubba-Hubba this task instead of doing it myself. I got on well with these people, yet here I was, jeopardizing his security by making him buy all the supplies and build the device. But that was just how it was; as team commander I wasn't going to compromise myself if I didn't have to, and he knew the score.

I heard footsteps behind me as the praying continued above, and saw Hubba-Hubba's sneakers coming down the ladder. He still had his gloves on, and the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves were wet. He came and knelt down beside me.

"No offense, mate," I tapped one of the radios with my right index finger, "but you understand that I have to check everything."

He nodded. He was a professional; he understood the mantra-check and test, check and test. "You had better take a look at this, then. One of my best, I think."

He carefully untwisted the cylinder and pulled it apart at the center. The inside was packed with eight pounds of the mustard-colored high explosive, with just enough s.p.a.ce in the center for the pager and initiation circuit, which were glued onto a rectangle torn from a cornflakes box. The pager was glued facedown, so that with the back cover removed, the two AA batteries and the rest of the workings were exposed. He laid the opened device back on the blanket.

The sweet, almost sickly candy a.s.sortment smell of the HE hit my nostrils. "Where did you make it?"

Hubba-Hubba moved his head back to try to avoid the smell. "In a motel, just off the autoroute. People only stay for the night and move on, so it was a good choice. It only took me two hours to make, but the rest of the night to get the smell out of the room!"

His smile didn't last long. "Nick...the source, Greaseball. I don't like it, why are we using such a man? Afterward maybe we should-"

"Time to stop thinking about that, mate. I feel the same way, but the sad fact is, he's worth more alive than dead. Just think of the int he's given us so far. He's the one who's getting us to the hawallada hawallada. And that's what we're here for, aren't we?"

He looked down at the equipment, his eyes scanning each item on the blanket as he nodded in grudging agreement.

"Listen-a.s.sholes like that? It's not worth getting worked up about. I'm sure when he's no longer any use he'll be history. There'll be quite a line."

Hubba-Hubba's brow creased. "Do you have children, Nick?"

I dodged the question. "I understand, believe me. His day will come." I pointed at the pager with a plastic-covered finger. "Come on, take me through this thing."

He explained that the power to initiate the device would be generated when the bleeper notified the owner he had a message, hopefully from us. "This pager either bleeps or vibrates, depending on the user's choice. I have diverted the notification power by rewiring it, so that when it receives our call the power is sent to the detonator instead of making the thing beep or vibrate."

It didn't have to be a pager; anything that generated enough power to initiate the detonator could have been used. Psions or Palm Pilots do the job, especially if you know the exact date and time you want the device to initiate-someone making a speech next month, say, or even next year. All you have to do is set the alarm on the schedule program for the time and day, place the device, leave it, and when the notification sparks up, boooom, boooom, as Lotfi would say. as Lotfi would say.

I could see the two thin wires coming out of the end of the pager, one disappearing into the PE where the det was buried. The other was glued along the top jaw of the wooden clothespin, which was, in turn, glued down next to the pager. I knew what it was doing there but waited for Hubba-Hubba to explain. It was his fireworks party.

"Four kilos is a lot of high explosive, Nick, but it is not going to turn the boat into a Hollywood fireball-unless you can locate it to ignite the fuel, of course."

He was right. It would all depend on where I could place the thing.

"The clothespin, Nick, that's the circuit breaker, your safety catch. To stop you going bang."

I couldn't help but smile at his understatement as I checked the two AA batteries. Between the nipple of the top battery and its connection in the pager was a sliver of clear plastic cut from the pager's packaging, in case someone called a wrong number while I had this thing stuck under my sweatshirt. It would stay there until just before I went to place the device. I wouldn't want to waste time opening the cylinder and messing about with pieces of plastic when I got on the boat: I'd want to just get on board and get this thing hidden and armed as quickly as possible.

Hubba-Hubba picked up a splinter of wood and used it to trace the circuit, following the det wire glued along the top of the clothespin and tucked under the top jaw.

"I wrapped the wires around the thumbtacks and soldered them. It is an excellent connection."

The wire leading from the thumbtack in the lower jaw disappeared into the PE.

For the time being, these two tacks were separated by another piece of plastic, to which Hubba-Hubba had fastened the other end of the fishing line. He let me admire the circuit for a few more seconds. "It is good, yes?"

I nodded. "Did you sand the tack-heads?"

He raised his hands in a gesture of disbelief. "But of course! As I said, it is an excellent connection. Before moving to the boat, you take out the battery breaker and close the device, okay? After checking this safety catch is in place, of course."

"Of course."

"Then, once you have placed the device, gently pull on the fishing line. Once the tack-heads make contact, the circuit will be complete and it is time for you to leave the boat with quick feet!"

Any one of us three could shove our phone card into a call box, call the pager number, then tap in ten digits. Once contact had been made, we'd get "Message bien recu," "Message bien recu," which I supposed was the French for "Bang." And that would be that; the boat, the people, the money, gone. I only hoped I'd be the one in the phone booth outside the marina by the bus stop, watching the boat leave. I'd detonate as soon as the which I supposed was the French for "Bang." And that would be that; the boat, the people, the money, gone. I only hoped I'd be the one in the phone booth outside the marina by the bus stop, watching the boat leave. I'd detonate as soon as the Ninth of May Ninth of May was safely in open water and, with any luck, some of the millions would be washed ash.o.r.e at my feet. was safely in open water and, with any luck, some of the millions would be washed ash.o.r.e at my feet.

There was one question we didn't yet know the answer to: how far out to sea would the pager initiate?

Hubba-Hubba gave his handiwork one more check. "It is all yours now."

I twisted the cylinder back together as carefully as he'd undone it, and left it on the blanket. Upstairs, Lotfi was still praying at warp speed. Hubba-Hubba leaned down to put the device back in line and I checked the rest of the equipment.

"Still warding off that evil eye thing?" I nodded at the pendant, which was swinging by his chin: the small, beaded hand with an unblinking blue eye in its palm.

"Of course. I've had it since I was a baby. In Egypt, many children have charms pinned to their coats as protection. You see, Westerners think nothing of saying about a child, 'Hasn't he grown?' or 'Isn't he looking so healthy?' But these things are taboo where we come from. That is because the evil eye could make the child sick. That is why we only give compliments related to character, things you cannot easily measure, and even then only in a way that shows there is no malice or envy intended."

"So the evil eye can't hear, right?"

"Something like that. For instance, someone might see me driving later tonight and feel envious, and if they had the evil eye they could cause me to crash, maybe even die. But this," he tapped his chest, "this has stopped such things happening to me for over thirty years. You should get one. In this world, they are more practical, perhaps, than that...." He looked upward as the sound of Lotfi's prayers drilled their way through the floor.

I stood up. "On this job," I said, dusting myself off, "I reckon we can use all the help we can get."

Lotfi was just dotting the i' i' s and crossing the s and crossing the t' t' s with G.o.d as I got my duffel bag and Hubba-Hubba went to the door to check the spyhole. I heard a bolt being drawn back as I pulled off my gloves and stuffed them into my bag. "Right, I'll see you later." s with G.o.d as I got my duffel bag and Hubba-Hubba went to the door to check the spyhole. I heard a bolt being drawn back as I pulled off my gloves and stuffed them into my bag. "Right, I'll see you later."

Hubba-Hubba nodded "Au revoir" "Au revoir" before checking the spyhole once more. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I walked out into the darkness. I heard a dog barking off a balcony somewhere. before checking the spyhole once more. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I walked out into the darkness. I heard a dog barking off a balcony somewhere.

I retraced my earlier route, with the bag back over my left shoulder and my right free for the Browning. There were no streetlamps, and the only light came from the windows above me. Behind them, adults and kids hollered at each other, music blared, more dogs barked.

I got to the door of the last block of apartments, but made no attempt to stop and look out. I didn't want to draw attention to myself. I walked straight out, keeping my head down and my eyes up as I hit the key fob and the Megane's indicators flickered. I locked myself in and drove off immediately, as you would in this part of town.

Two consecutive right turns got me back onto the main road. I wasn't worried about antisurveillance yet as they wouldn't be following me around here. They'd wait at the exits from the project.