*****
Khalid al-Shahrani left the young woman alone in the bed, pulled on his trousers and walked out onto the covered porch at the back of his new home. After nearly two months of slow, quiet, careful effort through very distant intermediaries, he was ready to make a phone call. He took a seat on the long chaise with his back to a wall so that he could watch the door through which he'd just exited the house. It would not do for the woman to wake up and interrupt this conversation. His hosts here in Khartoum were indulgent, but even they feared what the Americans might do if their "guests'" activities became detectable, let alone obvious. And women always talked to other women.
He looked at the new mobile phone in his hand, so new this would be the first call he'd made with it. The thought of its "virginity" made him smile after his long night with the young woman. Then he cursed what his enemies could do...no, HAD done to him, with just a sniff of a few calls from a mobile phone. Entire networks of the Brothers were utterly destroyed in France, the UK, and Jordan. Much of the long two months since he'd fled here from Taif in Saudi Arabia had been spent carefully crafting new operational rules. Numbers could no longer be stored in phones, but had to be committed to the Brothers' memories instead. Phones and their numbers had to change monthly. Even the names they used on their calls had to change with each phone purchased. All this took time to coordinate via careful and obscure work on the Internet and sometimes by personal messengers who undertook dangerous cross-border travel. But finally, they were ready to return to operational status, and Khalid was ready to call his top operative in Europe.
He reclined on the chaise and dialed the number, using a country code of "49", which as far as he could remember he had never used before. He did not really know where it was, but somewhere in Europe he was sure. He waited.
The phone rang, and he let it ring. Another precaution. The receiving Brother would only pick up after a pre-arranged number of rings, which also changed, but weekly instead of monthly. More things to remember, but it would help to ensure that the person receiving the call at least was more likely not to be an enemy. Khalid waited, counting.
Thirteen rings, and someone answered. "Hello" in English.
Khalid did not speak English, but he'd had to memorize a few words to start off the call in that language. He replied, "Hi, this is Max. Is that Gunter?"
And the response came as expected. "Yes, hello Max, this is Gunter. How are you my friend?"
Khalid smiled to himself. He recognized his old friend Ibrahim al-Otaibi by his voice, but it was strange to hear him speaking in English. However, the Brothers' hope was that a few lines in English would make it less likely for listening ears to focus in on their calls, and now he switched to Arabic but retained the strange name.
"Ah, Gunter. It is good to hear your voice. I have been worried for you, I know that times are hard there. I hope that you are well and, err, returning to something like a normal schedule?"
"Max, it is good to hear from you also," Ibrahim said. He avoided the usual "by the Grace of God" he would normally add, another decision to limit the exposure of Muslim influence. "What news do you have?"
"I have good news, mostly," Khalid said. "As you know, market conditions have been very difficult for everyone, but the Board of Directors has been working hard to limit our losses and to position us for a solid recovery." Khalid had been forced to study Business for two months as well. "You know, I believe, that our losses from some of our most important profit centers reached as high as fifty percent. This was regrettable. On the other hand, I am pleased to report that the remaining fifty percent of my assets have been re-positioned to more fertile markets. We expect to be ready to begin explosive growth in our operations as soon as the Board decides it is it time to execute."
Ibrahim paused to take this in. His own network in Paris was destroyed: even the assets he had left there had to be considered lost, since all of them would now be known to French authorities, and likely under constant watch. Those assets had to be retired, never contacted nor used again. In London, from what he had been able to learn, it was the same, and in Jordan. But Khalid was saying that almost half of his original force, that force designed to carry out his grand plan in the heart of America, had arrived safely and could be operational at any time. This was extraordinarily good news.
"Max, that is wonderful news. My small team here will be heartened to hear it. We have all been concerned that these difficult times would put us completely out of business. Tell me, what does the Board say they wish me to do here? We are eager to start and move ahead toward greater prosperity."
Khalid was prepared for this. "Gunter, the Board wishes you to continue building your stock of suitable resumes. Their hope is that the deep and unused body of talent in your location will be useful elsewhere as we return to rapid growth and prosperity. They wish you to be able to provide the high-quality manpower we will need to sustain this growth. Since times are so hard there, they believe that your recruiting efforts will be very successful. They are prepared to compensate a large number of employees on a retainer basis for an extended period of time, such is their confidence in our near-term prospects for growth. Do you understand this objective?"
Ibrahim had expected this. "Max, yes I do, and I have already made a modest beginning. I anticipated that this would be the new task as we recovered from our setbacks. We will begin in earnest this week. Shall I report in the usual way as we make progress?"
"Indeed, yes Gunter," Khalid replied. Now the call was becoming long, so it was time to finish. "Please do, I will contact you again soon and expect a full report. The market is still difficult though, Gunter, so you are to proceed carefully. It is a question of balance and patience my friend, and prudent risk-taking. Now I will leave you for now. Good luck, and praise..." he caught himself, just barely. He recovered, "Please convey our encouragement to your team and our thanks for their ability to persevere through our adversity. We will do better for them, and we are grateful for their loyalty. Goodbye now until next time." He hung up without waiting for a reply.
In Cologne, Ibrahim stabbed the "End" button on his own phone. He had hoped for more information on the Americans who'd nearly killed him and who'd ruined him in Paris, so he was disappointed. Still, he knew people were working on it. He'd located an excellent prospective source of his own, close to the local Police department here, and was optimistic that this would bear fruit some day in the future. He would be patient, but he would hunt these men and kill them. Someday.
In Khartoum Khalid relaxed into thought. The battle in al-Ha'il had cost him his local commander, Mohammed, and 30 Brothers who should now be in the US. It might be a very long time before he went back to Saudi Arabia, maybe he would never go back. On the brighter side, he thought fully 30 of his original contingent were safe in the heart of the Great Enemy. He wanted them to stay quiet for now, for the trail to grow cooler and finally to grow cold. They would blend in, they would be quiet, and his enemy would grow tired of vigilance and become complacent. In time, perhaps a year or a little more, he would unleash them, and then his Great Enemy would bleed.
This thought pleased him so much that he found himself thinking of the woman again. He got up and went back inside. There was time to enjoy life before he again brought death to his enemies.