Joe had been trained to pose as a Muslim worshipper — a skill he had used before on two or three missions. If anyone enquired where he was from, his story was that he was from Albania, and therefore he only knew to recite the prayers in Arabic. He hoped that there were no Albanians at the mosque or else his cover wouldn't last for more than a minute. In the middle of the day, the mosque was almost empty, but a couple of young men, dressed in traditional clothes, looked at the stranger. They immediately recognized that he was not one of the regular worshippers but suspected that he was an agent of the FSB. They thought that he was in the mosque because of the TV broadcast about the wanted Uzbek man who was obviously Muslim, so they kept their distance from him. Joe looked around, but saw nothing unusual — no extra guards, no activity and no one trying to hide. He prayed, or at least went through the motions, and left the mosque.
Joe watched his back to ascertain that he wasn't being followed, and after he was sure that he was clear he joined David and Mata. They agreed to separately roam the streets that surrounded the Great Mosque and to meet back at their hotel two hours later. David asked Mata if she wasn't afraid to wander alone through the area in which there were many Muslims, and, as he had expected, she said she could take care of herself. Nevertheless, he decided to cover her back from a distance and followed her.
The Mossad agents returned to their hotel empty-handed. There were no signs that anything unusual was taking place in the area and no trace of the culprit. David contacted Colonel Alexandrova and she said she had some news and invited him to Bolshoy Dom. When David arrived at the FSB headquarters, he was escorted to the colonel's office. She was obviously pleased with something. "We have identified the man posing as Bogdan Borisovitch Basov. He is not from Uzbekistan but from Chechnya, and his name is Yuri Bakavlev." David waited for her to continue, and after a dramatic pause she added, "He is a nuclear scientist who had worked in one of the atomic research institutes of the Soviet Union. We have discovered that his family was accidentally killed in one of the skirmishes between Chechen terrorists and Russian troops who were trying to restore order in a mutinous village. Since then he has disappeared from our radar. It is believed that he had joined anti-Russian terrorists."
David stuttered, "Do you mean that a nuclear scientist, a known terrorist, is running around St. Petersburg with what could be an improvised nuclear device? And that very same person was seen on the cruise ship with Le Docteur, the arch-terrorist who has already tried to detonate an atom bomb in the heart of London, and was possibly also involved with an attempt to send a nuke to the Eastern Board of the United States?"
Colonel Alexandrova's face took on a crimson hue, "We only just found out his identity. My next step will be to enforce a citywide curfew, but to do that I need permission from the Central Committee. They'll never agree because it will be interpreted as a show of weakness right before President Putin's visit." She stopped talking and placed her hand over her mouth. "The visit is a state-secret and if word gets out that I have disclosed it to a foreign agent, particularly to a Mossad agent, it will be the end of my career, perhaps even of my life."
David said, "Colonel Alexandrova, I am sure that Le Docteur is trying to pull off the same stunt he tried in London. Murder the most important politician and cause immeasurable damage to the economy and the prestige of his enemies. I strongly recommend that you persuade President Putin to postpone his visit until the terrorist is arrested and the nuke is disarmed."
"I cannot do this — it would be suicidal. If nothing happens I'll be prosecuted for spreading false rumors and causing panic. If the nuke is detonated, and I somehow survive, then I'll be forever held responsible for negligence that enabled the worst terrorist attack in history to take place in my city. David, I implore you to help my people find the man and stop him."
"Colonel, we should work on both ends. Your people will search for this Dr. Bakavlev in the city, leaving no stone unturned, while my agents will try to catch up with Le Docteur and interrogate him as soon as he disembarks from the cruise ship and sets his foot on the ground. Meanwhile, find a way to postpone Putin's visit. Perhaps you can say that there is a dangerous epidemic of plague or something in the city. This will also give you an excuse to impose a curfew."
Colonel Alexandrova considered the suggestion, "I'll think about it. Stay in touch."
Chapter 14
Le Docteur, Lara, Fatima and Karim returned to their cabin on the cruise ship. Each packed a small bag with the items that were irreplaceable and placed 'Do not disturb' signs on the doors of their cabins so that their absence wouldn't be noticed before all passengers had to disembark in Kiel. In the evening, they queued with the rest of the passengers to get off the cruise ship for a night on the town. Le Docteur led them to the Stockholm Frihamnen port's main gate, where a minivan was waiting. The van's driver was a little surprised to see Karim — he was told to expect Le Docteur and two women — but didn't say anything. Le Docteur got into the front seat beside the driver and the other three passengers squeezed into the back seat. The driver said, "I am Abu Amar — my nom-de-guerre in honor of the Palestinian leader, Yasser Arafat. My real name isn't important, but here in Sweden the infidels call me Bjorn — probably because I don't look anything like Bjorn Borg, the tennis-player." When no one made a comment, he added, "I don't understand the Swedish sense of humor although I have lived here most of my life. Anyway, we have a long drive ahead of us. I'll stop on the way for fuel and you can relieve yourselves and have some coffee. Please, don't get impatient as I've been instructed to obey the traffic rules to avoid being pulled over by the highway police. They like to randomly stop cars and have the drivers take a breathalyzer test for alcohol, especially at night. If that happens, don't speak and don't look worried. It's quite a routine thing here."
Le Docteur was surprised by this speech. He turned to his colleagues, "We are going to Malmo which has a large Muslim population. We'll be staying in a part of the city where the Swedish police don't dare to enter, unless they are accompanied by special units and have army back-up. It should take us about seven hours, mostly on the highway. Please, follow the instructions of the driver. He is one of our best operatives in Scandinavia."
The driver laughed, "The very best, not one of the best." He was good at his word and drove very carefully through the streets of Stockholm. Once they cleared the evening traffic of the city, the drive along the E4 highway was quite pleasant. There weren't many cars travelling south — it was well past the evening rush-hour. They did see a few highway patrol cars, but none took an interest in the minivan that was obeying all traffic laws. Close to midnight they stopped to stretch their legs, visit the restrooms and have coffee at a rest-area near Likoping, that was about halfway between Stockholm and Malmo.
By the time they arrived in Malmo, the city was beginning to wake up for another busy day. The driver parked the van near one of the large apartment buildings, that were obviously built using the cheapest materials available and must have been designed by the most unimaginative architect in Sweden. The long building had six sets of dirty entrance doors, each leading to a small lobby — if the small space between the door and stairway could be called that, and a narrow elevator that was barely large enough to accommodate four people or two adults and a baby's stroller.