Nick stepped back into a doorway, just before another sharp turn in the alleyway. He needed to lose or deal with his admirers, whoever they were. His meeting was far too important to be put at risk.
He heard them at the base of the staircase, wondering where he had gone. Their cockiness was diminished a little at the ease with which the cripple, their easy prey, had eluded them. Nick pushed himself further back into the shadows and their footsteps raced to catch up and find him. Nick let the first three run past, reaching out and grabbing the fourth by pulling him towards him. The youth attempted to cry out, so Nick clamped his hand over his mouth, then slammed the youth into the stone wall. The sickening crunch made far less noise than the wooden door would have. It would also mean that the youth was far less likely to die from his injuries. Nick opened the door and was rewarded with a magnificent arched courtyard that led off to various apartments. Fortunately, the courtyard was empty. He dumped the youth’s unconscious body on the floor and moved back to his original position, closing the door behind him. He took up position on the opposite side of the doorway. When the youths came back, they would not see him unless they looked behind them.
A clatter of steps suggested they had discovered the loss of one of their own. They charged back down the steps and once again, as they passed, Nick repeated his previous actions. Unfortunately this time, the youth screamed the moment he was touched. The loss of their compatriot had obviously spooked them. Nick powered the screamer into the wall, and his two friends ground to a halt. The screamer’s lifeless body slumped to the ground. Nick, without his cane, limp or stoop cut a far more imposing figure and not the easy target the muggers thought he would be. The two hesitated, looking at one another for support. Nick had a meeting to get to. He stepped towards them. They turned and ran.
Nicked carried the second unconscious youth into the courtyard and checked their pulses. Weak but there. He emptied their pockets, removed the battery from their cells and pocketed the lot. They’d live but they’d certainly think twice about chasing cripples in the future. He placed them in the recovery position to ensure they didn’t choke on their own vomit and hurried off to make his meeting on time. He cut across a number of alleyways as he worked his way to the far side of the Casbah. He had led the youths in an opposite direction. Ten minutes later, he approached a nondescript wooden door in a nondescript alleyway, just as it had been described to him. He thanked Allah that his directional skills were as good as they were and he knocked on the door three times, once, then twice. It opened and a gun was forced into his face and the trigger pulled.
Chapter 33
“Did you see that? Did you see his face?!” shouted the gunman to his followers behind him.
Nick pushed the gun away from his face and walked into the room.
“He didn’t even flinch! Not even a flicker of his eyelid!” said the gunman excitedly. Handing the unloaded pistol to another man, he hugged Nick.
“I’ve warned you before, Shaheed,” said Nick. “One of these days your practical jokes will get you killed!”
“Brother,” said Shaheed whispering in his ear, “I needed to show these men how special you are. You are a gift from Allah. Truly, you are.”
Nick hugged him back. It wasn’t the first time Shaheed had played the unloaded gun trick in his face. The first time had been back in the hills of Afghanistan. Although that time, Nick had not known he was joking.
“Come eat,” called a voice from the back of the room. The voice belonged to an older man who was instantly obeyed. The room silenced and the thirty men that had been gathered for the meeting moved to a table at the far end of the room. Shaheed led Nick to the top of the table and introduced him to the head of the Maghreb wing of Al Qaeda, Mustafa Ghazi. The welcome was warm but cautious, a normal response on meeting a new member of the leadership for the first time. Nick was everything they despised, at least, on the outside. Nick joked that if he were a sweet in a wrapper, he’d be the last one chosen but whoever chose him would be in for the most delicious treat of their life. The message was loud and clear: Don’t judge him on his looks. Mustafa accepted his words and introduced him to the hierarchy of the jihadist fighters from across Northern Africa. Leaders from Mali, Niger, Sudan, Morocco and many more were introduced to the man that had brought a plan to unite them in a common goal.
“Shaheed,” said Nick as the lunch was coming to an end, “do you have the laptop I asked for?”
Shaheed reached behind him, produced a laptop and handed it across to Nick.
Nick opened the Tor browser, the browser of choice for the world’s criminals, untraceable and hidden behind thousands of anonymous relays. Although not perfect, it certainly was better than the commercial options.
The website opened to reveal the man Nick had injected with a lethal virus just over thirty-six hours ago. It was not a pleasant sight. The man had been suffering from a high fever, vomiting and diarrhea and due to his contagious status, had not been tended to. Large sores had appeared across his body to add to the horror of the image.
Nick turned the screen around to his audience. “Friends,” he said, “this is the disease that will rid us of the infidels! In less than eight hours, this man will literally bleed out on live TV. His writhing in pain right now is nothing compared to what it will be just a few hours from now.”
A cheer erupted. the group began to understand just how grand the plan before them was.
“But how do we protect our lands?”
“We don’t need to. All travel to and from North America will cease after we introduce the virus. No country on earth will accept a plane or boat from America or Canada once we release this. Mexico will close its borders. A military buffer zone will keep the virus in. They will be isolated as the virus eats through the fabric of their corrupt society.”
Another cheer erupted.
“What do you need from us?” they asked, almost as one.
“I need your men. I need your warriors. I need the men who want to fight and more importantly, are not afraid to die for Allah.”
“Then you want every man in this room!” shouted Mustafa proudly.
“I want an army. I want to strike fear into them like they have never known. The virus is just part of the plan. I want to take the battle to their streets. I want them to see the army of Allah running down the streets killing their policemen and soldiers without fear. I want to destroy their hospitals before the virus takes hold. I want their hearts and souls to die before they do.”
The resultant cheer almost lifted the roof.
“The Caliph set the groundwork. He wanted a one true Islam to rule over us, for us all to unite together against the infidels. Together we can defeat them. That is what the Caliph died for and has asked me to help you deliver.”
Another cheer erupted.
Before Nick left, he laid out the detailed instructions of what each man needed to deliver. He was clear and precise. He wanted the true believers, only those who, if caught on film, would smile as they pressed a detonator that would send them to paradise. He warned that many would be tested and if one man failed, all of those leaders’ men would be sent home in disgrace. It was a threat that ensured only the true would be delivered to Nick’s army. Once selected, the jihadists’ names would be added to his army and their instructions sent to them thereafter. Each jihadist would receive his own instructions. Again, Nick emphasized the importance of compartmentalizing the plan. The fewer people who knew the final details, the less chance the infidels had of stopping them.