military tribunals. That, for the first time in four years, gave the detainees the chance of a defense attorney. Gu- mienny intended that Izmat Khan’s defense would be that he had never been in Al Qaeda, but a serving Afghan Army officer, albeit under the Taliban, and had nothing whatever to do with 9/11 or Islamist terrorism. And he intended that the court should accept that. It would require John Negroponte, as director of National Intelligence, to request his colleague Donald Rumsfeld, as secretary of defense, to “have a word” with the military judges of the case.
Mike Martin’s leg was healing nicely. He had noted when he read Izmat Khan’s slim file after the concordat in the orchard that the man had never described how he had acquired the scar on the right thigh. Martin saw no reason to mention it either. But when Michael McDonald arrived back from Langley with the more copious notes over Izmat Khan’s numerous interrogations, he had been concerned that the questioners had pressed the Afghan for an explanation of the scar and never received one. If the existence of the scar was by any chance known to anyone inside Al Qaeda and Mike Martin bore no such scar, his cover would be “blown.”
Martin had no objection, for he had something in mind. A surgeon was flown from London to Edzell, and then by the newly acquired Bell JetRanger helicopter to the lawn of Forbes Castle. He was the Harley Street surgeon with full security clearance who could be relied on to remove the occasional bullet and say nothing more about it.
It was all done with a local anesthetic. The incision was easy, for there was no bullet or fragment to be extracted. The problem was, make it heal in a few weeks but look much older than that.
The surgeon, James Newton, excised a quantity of tissue beneath and around the incision to make it deeper, as if something had come out, and created a concavity in the flesh. His sutures were large, clumsy, unstraight stitches, drawing the edges of the wound together so that they would pucker as they healed. He sought to make it look like the work done in a field hospital in a cave, and there were six stitches.
“You must understand,” he said as he left, “if a surgeon looks at that, he will probably spot that it cannot be fifteen years old. A nonmedical man should accept it. But it needs twelve weeks to settle down.” That was in early November. By Christmas, nature and the body of a very fit forty-four-year-old had done an excellent job. The puffiness and redness were gone.
CHAPTER 9
“IF YOU ARE GOING where I think you are going, young Mike,” said Tamian Godfrey on one of their daily hikes, “you will have to master the various levels of aggressiveness and fanaticism that you will be likely to encounter. At the core is self-arrogated jihad, or holy war, but various factions arrive at this via various routes and behave in various ways. They are not all the same by a long chalk.”
“It seems to start with Wahhabism,” said Martin. “In a way, but let us not forget that Wahhabism is the state religion of Saudi Arabia, and Osama bin Laden has declared war on the Saudi establishment for being heretics. There are many groups way out on the extremist wing beyond the teachings of Muhammad al-Wahhab.
“He was an eighteenth-century preacher who came out of the Nejd, the bleakest and harshest part of the interior of the Saudi peninsula. He left behind him the harshest and most intolerant of all the many, many interpretations of the Koran. That was then; this is now. He has been superseded. Saudi Wahhabism has not declared war on the West, or on Christianity; nor does it propose indiscriminate mass murder of anyone, let alone women and children. What Wahhab did was leave behind the seedbed of total intolerance in which today’s terror masters could plant the young seedlings before turning them into killers.” “Then how come they are not still confined to the Arabian peninsula?” asked Martin.
“Because,” cut in Najib Qureshi, “for thirty years Saudi Arabia has used its petrodollars to fund the internationalization of its state creed, and that includes every Muslim country in the world, including the place of my birth. There is no reason to think any of them realized what a monster was being set free or how it would be diverted to mass murder. Indeed, there is ample reason to believe now, a bit late in the day, that Saudi Arabia is terrified of the creature it has funded for three decades.”
“Then why has Al Qaeda declared war on the source of its creed and its funding?”
“Because other prophets have arisen, even more intolerant, even more extreme. These have preached the creed not simply of intolerance of anything not Islamic, but of the duty of attack and destruction. The Saudi government is denounced for dealing with the West, permitting U.S. troops on its holy soil. And that applies to every secular Muslim government as well. For the fanatics they are all as guilty as Christians and Jews.”
“So who do you think I shall be meeting in my travels, Tamian?” asked Martin.
The scholar found a stone the size of a chair and sat down to rest her legs. “There are numerous groups, but two are at the core. Do you know the word salafi?”
“I have heard of it,” admitted Martin.
“These are the back-to-the-beginning brigade. They really want to restore the great golden age of Islam. Back to the first four caliphates, over a thousand years ago. Wild beards, sandals, robes, rigorous Sharia’ah legal code, rejection of modernity and the West that brought it. There is no such earthly paradise, of course, but fanatics were never deterred by unreality. In pursuit of their manic dream Nazis, communists, Maoists, followers of Pol Pot, have slaughtered hundreds of millions, half of them their own kith and kin, for not being extreme enough. Think of Stalin’s and Mao’s purges-all fellow communists, but butchered for being backsliders.”
“When you described the salafis, you were describing the Taliban,” said Martin. “Among others. These are the suicide bombers, the simple believers; trusting their masters, following their spiritual guides; not very bright but completely obedient, and believing that all their deranged hatred is going to please the mighty Allah.”
“There are worse?” asked Martin.
“Oh, yes,” said Tamian Godfrey, resuming her walk but directing the party firmly back toward the castle, whose tower could just be seen two short valleys away. “The ultras-the real ultras-I would designate with one word: takfir. Whatever it meant in Wahhab’s day, it has changed. The true salafi will not smoke, gamble, dance, accept music in his presence, drink alcohol or consort with Western women. With his dress, appearance and religious devotion, he is immediately identifiable for what he is. From an internal security point of view, identifiability is half the battle.
“But some will adopt every single custom of the West, however much they may loathe them, in order to pass as fully Westernized and therefore harmless. All nineteen of the 9/11 bombers slipped through because they looked and acted the part. The same with the four London bombers; apparently normal young men, going to the gym, playing cricket, polite, helpful, one of them a special needs teacher, smiling constantly and planning mass murder. These are the ones to watch.
“Many are clean-shaven, barbered, groomed, dressed in suits, educated, with a good degree. These are the ultimate; prepared to become chameleons against their faith to achieve mass murder for their faith. Thank heavens, here we are; my old legs are giving out. Time for the midday prayers. Mike, you will utter the call and then lead us in prayer. You may be asked to later. It is a great privilege.”
Just after the New Year, an e-mail was sent from the office of Siebart and Abercrombie to Jakarta. The Countess of Richmond, with a full cargo of crated Jaguar sedans for Singapore, would sail from Liverpool on the first of March. After unloading at Singapore, she would proceed in ballast to North Borneo to take aboard the hold cargo of timber before turning for Surabaya for the deck cargo of crated silks.
THE CONSTRUCTION crew working inside the Pasayten Wilderness was finally and deeply grateful when the job was done by the end of January. To keep up the work rate, the men had chosen to overnight right on the site, and until the central heating came on stream they had been extremely cold. But the bonus was large and tempting. They took the discomfort and completed on schedule. To the naked eye, the cabin looked much the same but larger. In fact, it had been transformed. To cope with a staff of two officers, the bedrooms would suffice; for the
