The Toyota came to a halt at the border to North-West Frontier, the Pakistani province that bordered Afghanistan, where the law of the gun was paramount, and where not even the Pakistani military held any control. The dirty sign read ‘Attention: Entry Of Foreigners Is Prohibited Beyond This Point’. Despite the Pakistan Office of Home Security permit produced by the driver, the guard appeared agitated, but when al-Falid produced his Egyptian passport the guard relaxed and the gates were opened with a fisted salute.
‘ Allahu Akbar! God is Great!’ Even among the Urdu and Pashto speaking tribes the Muslim war cry in Arabic bridged a multitude of languages.
An hour and a half later, they reached the outskirts of Darra Adam Khel and they were challenged again, this time by Kalashnikov-wielding Pashtun tribesmen. After another brief exchange of words between them and al- Falid’s driver, and another cry of ‘ Allahu Akbar! God is great!’ the Toyota was allowed into the dusty main street of the town. al-Falid’s driver headed for the crowded and noisy market at the far end. Had the Pakistani government been serious about hunting down the Taliban who had fled from the US forces in Afghanistan, they would not have had any trouble finding a sizeable number of them on the streets of Darra Adam Khel, all easily recognisable in their robes and turbans. The air was hot and heavy, and the smoke from charcoal-burning braziers on which the store holders were cooking spiced meats hung thickly alongside the hashish and exhausts of the tuk-tuks. Eventually they came to a dirty canvas bazaar in the centre of the market. Pictures of Osama bin Laden and Mullah Omar were fixed to either side of the entrance to the tent, and two Pashtun tribesmen stood in front, their ubiquitous Kalashnikovs at the ready. After a word from one of Kadeer’s bodyguards al-Falid was quickly ushered inside. al-Falid nodded with approval as he was shown four long, green metal boxes, one of which was open. Nestling on the grey moulded foam inside was an olive-green tube about 1.5 metres long and 14 centimetres wide. Smaller boxes holding the grip stocks for each missile were stacked separately. The stingers were going to be used in the first of Khalid Kadeer’s warning attacks. This batch of missiles would facilitate just one small but essential part of the overall plan, and al- Falid already knew that the infidel’s forces had been training for just the sort of assault Kadeer had ordered him to mount against one of the world’s most beautiful cities. The infidel’s training exercises had been faithfully reported and well publicised in the target city’s media. al-Falid smiled grimly at the infidel’s foolishness. The media coverage was undoubtedly a political ploy to convince the city’s population that everything was under control, but the infidel’s political arrogance had provided al-Falid with a very good idea of what his men might face. Although the infidel’s soldiers were among the best in the world, they were only lightly armed. He now knew that the more heavily armed tugboats would be absolutely critical in neutralising the city’s police and the military.
The arms dealer offered al-Falid a battered armchair and then excused himself to count the cash from the two trunks that had been unloaded from the back of the truck. Out here in the wilds of the border area nothing was taken for granted.
The arms bazaar at Darra Adam Khel had become one of the CIA’s and the Pentagon’s worst nightmares, but it was a nightmare of their own making. The sale of sophisticated arms had its genesis in the United States’ support for Osama bin Laden and the Mujahadeen, the Islamic holy warriors in Afghanistan, many of whom held to very austere forms of Islam. Afghanistan was one of the poorest countries on the planet, and in the nineteenth century the British and the Russian empires had competed for control of a geography that was dominated by some of the highest and most inhospitable mountain ranges in the world. In December 1979, with the British out of the picture, the Soviets were fearful that Islamic Mujahadeen factions hostile to the USSR would gain power. The Soviets invaded Afghanistan and installed a puppet government in Kabul. The United States immediately threw its massive firepower behind the freedom fighters, as Ronald Reagan preferred to call Osama bin Laden and the Mujahadeen, arming them with large numbers of some of the most sophisticated small arms available, including the stinger missiles that could down any aircraft that was flying below 10,000 feet. When the Soviets withdrew in 1989, yet another army defeated by the mountainous Hindu Kush, Afghanistan had been once again bombed back into the Stone Age. Over a million of its citizens were killed and millions more fled to Pakistan and neighbouring Iran. The United States withdrew, leaving the opium fields and the rest of the country to disintegrate as the warlords turned on each other in fierce inter-tribal fighting, paving the way for the appearance of the Pakistani-supported Taliban who emerged from their madrassas, the austere Islamic schools that operated in the no-go border areas of Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province. More importantly for Khalid Kadeer and al-Falid, in the vacuum left by the United States over 500 of the feared stinger missiles that had been supplied to the Mujahadeen had gone missing, and now, for a price, they were available in Darra Adam Khel.
A young boy brought a tin mug of green tea and while the arms dealers counted the stacks of US$100 bills, al-Falid sank back into the armchair, grateful for a small respite in what would be a very long and complex campaign. His mind went back to the time he had been in the very same tent, eighteen months before, at the time the Churchill, the Montgomery and the Wavell were leaving Rotterdam, each bound for Karachi. Back then, al-Falid’s first visit to Darra Adam Khel had gone surprisingly smoothly and fifteen of the stinger missiles had been purchased. The purchase of the tugs had also been a masterstroke. al-Falid’s assessment that tugs were only subjected to cursory customs inspections, if at all, had turned out to be correct. The weapons al-Falid had just purchased for the first warning attack beneath Eternity would be now moved to Karachi where they would be collected by the Montgomery and the Wavell. The third tug, the Winston Churchill had been assigned to putting resources in place for a later warning. Slowly but surely the entire plan was coming together.
Khalid Kadeer had chosen the target cities with great care, betting that none of the huge spy satellites belonging to the United States would be focused on any of them. The Great Satan, Allah be praised, had played into his hands.
CHAPTER 25
T he secret service agent outside the entrance to the Oval Office in the West Wing nodded politely to Jerry Buffett, one of the President’s most trusted advisors on domestic and foreign policy. The Reverend Buffett was a frequent but unpublicised visitor to a White House where regular prayer sessions and the word of the Lord held sway.
‘Jerry, come on in,’ President Harrison said, getting up from behind his desk and taking the evangelist warmly by the hand. ‘Dan Esposito, you know,’ he said, as his advisor also proffered a hand in welcome.
‘Thank you, Mr President, thank you.’ Despite the relaxed rapport and an absolute trust between them, Jerry Buffett always stuck with protocol. Unless they were alone or in prayer and he was asking God to bless the Presidency, he never addressed the President by his first name. ‘These are difficult times, Mr President, but a lot of folk are praying for you and we all think you’re doing a first class job,’ he added encouragingly.
‘Well I appreciate that, Jerry. Sometimes it’s not easy but I get a lot of strength from the Lord.’
‘Amen to that, Mr President, Amen to that.’
‘Take the weight off your feet,’ the President said, sitting down on one of the two lounges and gesturing towards the other.
‘What do you make of this latest threat from Khalid Kadeer and al-Qaeda, Jerry?’ the President asked after the secret service agent had left the room.
Jerry Buffett nodded gravely and leaned forward, lowering his deep southern drawl, which seemed an entirely unnecessary precaution in what was arguably the most secure office in the world.
‘We should be doing something about this threat before it overwhelms us, Mr President. It isn’t the false prophecies of the Qu’ran that we should be concerned about here but the real prophecies in the Bible. We face one of the most serious times in the history of mankind and that’s why God has put you in this office. Yours is a mission from God,’ he said, making sure he emphasised his point, ‘and there are two separate threats, Mr President. The greatest threat will come from the Chinese and the massive armies of Gog, as Ezekiel makes clear, but that will come later. The more immediate threat will come from the false religion of Islam. The Muslims are demanding that the Palestinians be given their own State, Mr President, but that will only be a small start. They want nothing more than for Israel to be pushed into the sea. But the Bible tells us, Mr President, that before Christ can return, all of the biblical lands must be returned to the Israelites, all of them,’ the Reverend Buffett said determinedly. ‘The Palestinians must be relocated to Jordan and any other country that will take these pagans. In Ezekiel, God says to
