closer to the city center.
Getting directions from the front desk, he found an Internet cafe four blocks away. Logging on to the account known only to him and Sayyidd, he was relieved to see the reference to Fallujah, then excited when he saw that Walid had sent the instructions for the next meet. It would occur at one o’clock today at a coffee shop in Oslo. Sayyidd ended by saying he would relay what had occurred later on, as soon as he was done.
Bakr leaned back in his chair, satisfied that their planning was still on track. His shift to Bosnia might have been unwarranted, but it was still the prudent thing to have done. It might also have removed one burden from Walid’s back, as he thought he could get explosives and detonating material from a contact inside this country. He wasn’t convinced that Sayyidd had the expertise to ensure the correct materials were taken from Walid, and there was no way they would return to Norway to remedy any mistakes. Better for him to see if he could gather the materials here.
While still a fighter in Iraq, he had been given the name of a person who was very active helping out Chechen rebels in their fight against the Russian infidels. All he knew was his name, Juka Merdanovic, and that he lived somewhere around Tuzla. He had never met the man but had been told he wouldn’t turn away a Muslim in need.
81
As I was pulling into my fourth parking spot, my phone rang.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Pike, he’s waiting at a bus stop. I think he’s going to get on. What should I do?”
“All right, board the bus with him. When you see him get up to leave, give me a call. You stay on the bus. Getting on with him can be a coincidence. Getting off is asking to get burned. You exit at the next stop and head back to the one where he got off. I’ll call you when I either find out where he’s going, or I lose him.”
“Okay. I can do that. Sorry I didn’t see this coming and call earlier.”
I smiled at her taking the blame. “
We had landed in Oslo a couple of hours ago and had immediately checked Jennifer’s e-mail account for a message from the Taskforce. Sure enough, the terrorists had received another message directing a meeting at a coffee shop at one o’clock in the city center, which didn’t give us a lot of time to set up. We located the shop with only thirty minutes to spare. I’d put Jennifer inside, with me outside as a spotter, since I was the only one who knew what they looked like. Of course, that meant I couldn’t conduct the actual surveillance because they would spot me.
When Jennifer found out she’d be in the coffee shop alone, she seemed to realize for the first time this was for real. I had reassured her, reminding her of the surveillance classes I’d given on the flight over, stressing again that it wasn’t some arcane skill reserved for spies, but just common sense. She didn’t seem to buy it, but she’d exited the car. At precisely one o’clock I’d recognized the shorter of the two guys who’d mugged me in Guatemala. I’d almost missed him, because I was looking for a pair. His friend was nowhere in sight, which could mean he was conducting countersurveillance like I had in the mall. No way to tell and nothing I could do about it anyway. I called Jennifer and triggered the surveillance.
After the meeting broke up, Jennifer had managed to track him for five blocks to the bus station, but she was now out of play. That was going to leave me doing the dismounted work, which would be hard to do without getting burned. I pulled out, driving slowly until I saw the bus ahead of me. Picking up the pace, I trailed the bus to the next stop, seeing both Jennifer and the terrorist waiting to board. Four stops later, she called.
“He’s standing up. He’s getting off.”
“Got it. You go to the next stop and head back here.”
I immediately scanned for a parking spot, whipping the car around and cramming it into a space barely large enough to hold a moped. I waited for the terrorist to commit to a direction before falling in behind him. The sidewalks in this area were much less congested than in the city center, with only a few couples using them. I knew that if he turned around there was no way he would miss me, but there was nothing I could do about it. I stayed as far back as I dared, praying the terrorist had no reason to feel he was being followed and would walk straight to his destination.
Luckily, that’s exactly what he did. Striding with a purpose and ignoring his immediate surroundings, he entered a five-story building. I gave him a few minutes, then approached.
It was a youth hostel, a cheap hotel catering to college students and wandering backpackers. It was clean and neat, although a little threadbare, with a throng of young men and women coming and going.
I went across the street to a small restaurant/bar, took a table in the corner that had a view of the entrance to the hostel, and gave Jennifer a call, telling her where to find me.
Sayyidd flew up the stairs of the youth hostel at a rapid clip, anxious to e-mail Bakr the good news. Walid had not only told him he could get “proof” of Iranian complicity for the WMD attack, along with the necessary explosive material, but he could get them into Israel proper with little trouble at all. In fact, he wanted Sayyidd to come with him tomorrow to the hinterlands of Norway to meet the man who would facilitate their travel. Unfortunately, the location of the facilitator was outside the footprint of the satellites for the Thrane M4 phone. While they covered a broad swath of the world, it wasn’t 100 percent coverage. It meant he would be out of e-mail contact with Bakr for forty-eight hours, but he felt that was of little consequence.
Booting up the M4, he typed a jubilant message, giving Bakr the details of the meeting, including the fact that he might not get any further message in the next twenty-four hours. He reassured Bakr that he would attempt to locate an Internet cafe, but that the M4 would probably not link up with the satellite.
As he leaned back with a sense of satisfaction, Sayyidd’s reflections on his meeting with Walid were interrupted by a growling in his stomach. He didn’t bother to shut down the computer, since he would be gone less than forty-five minutes and wanted to see Bakr’s reply as soon as he returned.
Absently looking at the menu on the table, I was running through our next potential steps when Jennifer found me and sat down with a big grin on her face.
“Told you — you’re a natural,” I said.
“It was really sort of fun. I could get into doing that stuff.”
“Well, that’s good to hear, because I’m pretty sure you’re going to get another chance at it.”
I gave her a rundown of what I knew, telling her that we needed to figure out, before we did anything else, whether the other terrorist was with his partner. In the end, we had to have positive proof these idiots had a weapon of mass destruction, or, equally, that they did not, which might mean breaking into their room. I couldn’t risk that unless I knew the room was empty, and knocking on the door wasn’t a preferred technique.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Any idea how the two of us can maintain 24/7 surveillance on this place?”
“You’re asking me? Why? You’re the expert.”
“Hey, I told you this wasn’t rocket science.” I glanced out the window. “I have some ideas, but I don’t have a monopoly on smarts. If you—”
I saw the terrorist leave the hostel across the street.
Jennifer said, “What? What is it?”
“The guy you followed is on the move.”
“Already?” Jennifer leaned over trying to see out the window.
“Shit, he’s headed this way,” I said.
I looked around for another exit, but we were out of luck. Short of running through the kitchen, the front door
