Several others were arrested over the ensuing weeks. Four of his men who’d set off bombs near a church in Amsterdam lasted nearly a month before they were apprehended in Geneva.
One by one, they’d all fallen. Had Qafar underestimated the resolve or ability of the Western dogs to track them down? Maybe. But the mission was an absolute success. All told, more than 140 infidels had been killed.
His eternal reward would be assured.
The knocking on the door resumed, longer and more fervent this time. Qafar looked over at one of his men. The underling, a skinny Iranian named Afi, returned the questioning expression.
“Go answer it,” Qafar said.
The guy nodded and started for the stairs.
“Wait,” Qafar stopped him. He pointed at a pistol on the end table. “Take that with you just in case.”
Afi gave another curt bob of the head and picked up the weapon. There was another man standing guard at the door but didn’t dare open it without permission. He had an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and was leaning against the wall. Afi stopped halfway down the stairs and extended his weapon, aiming it at the doorway. He nodded to the other guard.
“Open it.”
The man did as told, unlocking the two deadbolts and the doorknob lock. He glanced back up the stairs to make sure. Afi confirmed with a flick of his head.
The guard swallowed and pulled the door open.
A man with a dark tan, black eyebrows and hair, and an olive green military uniform stepped into the foyer.
“What is the meaning of this?” He looked at the door guard with disdain. “What took you so long?”
Then he saw Afi on the stairs with the pistol.
The man in the uniform shot him an irritated glare. “Put that thing down, Afi. You might accidentally fire it. Wouldn’t do you any good to kill the hand that’s kept you and your friend safe.”
Afi lowered the weapon. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t know it was you.”
“Who else knows you’re here? You haven’t been talking to the delivery boy who brings your supplies, have you?”
Afi shook his head. “No. Of course not. He leaves them just inside the gate, and we don’t go out to get them until he’s gone.”
The uniformed man was named Nasir. He’d risen through the ranks of the Pakistani army and become a powerful officer. What the general public didn’t know about was his sympathy for Qafar and his mission. Nasir had worked hard to keep the terrorist’s location secret. Qafar and his men often wondered if Nasir was really committed to what they were doing or if he was just taking orders from someone higher up.
“Is he still awake? We need to talk.” Nasir had a sense of urgency in his tone.
Afi nodded.
“Good. Tell him I’m coming up.”
Nasir was halfway up the stairs when Qafar appeared on the landing. He put his hands on the rail and smiled at the military man as he reached the top. Qafar opened his arms and embraced Nasir, who accepted the gesture reluctantly. He’d never cared much for hugging but went along with it.
Qafar smiled. “Please, come in, my friend. What brings you here at such a late hour? Would you like some tea?”
Nasir followed him into the makeshift living room. A flatscreen television hung in the corner. It was connected to a video game system and a Blu-ray player. The room smelled of tea and flavored tobacco. The latter came from a hookah sitting in the corner nearest the door.
“Some tea would be appreciated.” Nasir did his best to sound gracious.
Being sociable wasn’t one of his best attributes. He was a guy who specialized in getting things done. It was why he’d risen so quickly in the Pakistani military. There were, however, occasions such as this that required him to put on a friendly face and pretend to enjoy customary social interaction.
Qafar walked over to the teapot he’d left on a tray atop a coffee table in the middle of the room. He picked it up and poured a steaming cup for his guest. Then he looked up, still leaning over the table. “You like yours without sugar, yes?”
Nasir nodded.
Qafar acknowledged the response and picked up the cup. “Good. That’s how I like mine as well, though occasionally I will sweeten it a little just to change things up.”
Nasir accepted the cup and took a sip. He sighed with satisfaction and raised the porcelain. “Thank you. Delicious as always.” As hard as he tried to sound honest, his voice smacked of insincerity.
Qafar either didn’t recognize his guest’s tone or he simply ignored it. “I’m glad you like it.” He eased back in the deep leather couch and put his arms out across the back. “So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Nasir took another sip and then set the cup down on the glossy wooden end table close to his chair. “We have a problem.”
Qafar’s smile disappeared. “What do you mean, a problem?”
“We have word from our sources that you may have been compromised. From what we know, it sounds like the Americans are putting together an operation to come after you.”
“What? How could this be?” Qafar didn’t believe it. He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees, staring hard at Nasir.
“You’ve been in this place almost a year. You have a dozen men here. Over that amount of time, with that many people, you start to leave a footprint. Not sure if you’ve noticed. But there are a lot of people looking for your footprints right now.”
Qafar’s eyes narrowed. “My men haven’t spoken to anyone. We keep to ourselves here. Honestly, it’s like a prison. The only place we get out is in the backyard.”
Nasir looked around the room with mocking eyes. He put his hands out wide. “If this palace is a prison, I’d hate to see what you think of a real one.” Before Qafar could react, he went on. “I know it is difficult staying in hiding, especially when you’re trapped in one place for so long. But we have worked out a solution for you that will help alleviate both problems.”
“We?” It wasn’t the first time Nasir had referred to multiple people being involved with his safe asylum.
“Yes. We. And we are going to get you safely out of this country and into a place where you’ll be able to resume your normal life, whatever that is.”
Qafar bit his lower lip, still wary about whatever plan his guest was going to relay. At this point, what options did he have other than to listen? “Fine, let’s hear your plan.”
“We have someone on the inside with the American military.” It was a powerful opening line and immediately got Qafar’s attention. “They told us that there has been a lot of attention on Pakistan lately in regards to harboring known terrorists. Specifically, they are zeroing in on this city. We might have a few days, possibly a week or two. But it’s always best to err on the side of caution. If we wait too long, the enemy could be on your doorstep and you’d be trapped.”
“So you want me to run? Like a coward?”
“You’ve run before. And you survived.”
“That was different.”
“And look at all you’ve accomplished. Think of all you will accomplish if you escape again.”
Nasir was saying all the right things. Whether he was full of lies or not was yet to be proven. Qafar had no reason to discount the man. Nasir had kept him safe from the infidels for almost a year. Now he was offering further assistance.
“Where will I go?” Qafar asked. “How will I get there? If the Americans are watching this place, getting out could be difficult.”
Nasir acknowledged the statement with a nod. “You will leave in an escorted convoy to the outskirts of the city. There you and your men will be transferred to different vehicles. Some of the cars won’t be pretty. They’ll be old, rusted, beat up. Some will be new. We want to make it look natural. Getting you across the border in similar vehicles might draw attention.”