within the building across from Franz Heffner’s apartment. Over the course of the next two weeks, they photographed every face and recorded every word. By then, the object Franz had discovered was identified as an Iranian-made detonator, and the men using the vacant building were marked as Egyptian nationals belonging to a terrorist group al ied with Al Qaeda.
The men were quickly rounded up. Intense interrogation eventual y revealed a rather insidious plot to detonate any number of powerful explosives at a holiday performance of a children’s circus.
“Martyrs” dressed as clowns were to carry the explosives beneath their costumes, simultaneously detonating them at a prearranged moment during the middle of the performance.
The conspirators were taken to detention facilities where they were given the opportunity of meeting with the CIA, MI-6, DGSE, KGB, and Mossad. While their story sent shock waves through the intel igence community, the lack of remorse or guilt demonstrated by the conspirators was perhaps most tel ing of al .
AIRBORNE ABOARD AIR FRANCE
THE FLIGHT HAD been aloft for a half hour when the in-flight movie began. Dan had been thinking of al the things he needed to consider in Riyadh when he happened to glance up at the screen. The actress in the scene at that moment reminded him so much of his darling Betty, that he turned his attention from the business at hand and al owed his imagination to paint a perfect picture of their future together. He saw the girls growing into womanhood, marrying, and raising families. He saw himself becoming a grandparent, retirement, the house on the beach in Newport Beach, growing old with the woman of his dreams. He closed his eyes. Yeah, he thought, a satisfied smile fil ing out his face. I can handle that. A MUSLIM WOMAN seated next to a window in coach class was nursing an infant. To the observant eye, the baby may have seemed a bit large for a nursing infant, and it’s wrapping bulky and overly cumbersome. Who could have anticipated the explosives wrapped in its blankets? When the woman finished her task, she rose, placed the infant in her seat, and stepped into the aisle. From beneath her abaya she produced a cel phone. The phone triggered the explosives a moment after the woman cried:
Al ah Akbar
The wreckage of the aircraft, the remains of its cargo, and the body parts of its passengers were later found strewn over a hundred miles of the Alps.
3 - AN IDEA – ADALA
EDEN, GLEN COVE, N. Y.
BREAKFAST WITH ALY was a treat, even if it happened at the crack of dawn with a light rain feeding the landscape as it was doing this morning. Al too often one of them would be traveling––Alan had projects in the works al over the globe, and Aly often had to attend seminars or simply prepare for an early class. It was the calm before the tempests of the day. It was the time when they could explore and discuss their plans and desires.
Henry, dressed and smiling after having said his dawn prayers, served the regular Davis breakfast of fresh fruit, poached eggs, and Lebanese coffee, though only the coffee seemed of interest to Alan this morning. Aly was busy penning notes into her day planner. Alan was scanning the headlines, but not with much enthusiasm. He put the paper aside and expel ed a weary sigh.
“More good news?” Aly said, knowing how involved her husband al owed himself to get in the events of the day.
“I honestly don’t get it. Why are we having so much trouble with Muslim elements al over the world?” Alan thumped the newspaper with his knuckles. “In England, suicide bombers kil ed over fifty innocent people on the underground, and the BBC shows Muslim demonstrators taking to the streets, creating massive traffic jams while carrying signs cal ing for the beheading of anyone who might look at the world a little differently than they do. Is this Muslim tolerance?”
He drank coffee and set his cup down with an exuberant clang. “In France, Muslims are rioting in the streets by the thousands. They’re setting cars on fire, looting storefronts, and trashing businesses al over the city. Why? Because they disagree with the government over some planned regulation or other. Is that Muslim civility and citizenship?”
“Pretty depressing, I grant you,” Aly agreed.
“Theo Van Gogh was murdered in broad daylight on a public street in Hol and by a Muslim extremist for producing a documentary about how a Muslim woman legislator, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, had been, and other Muslim women stil are, abused by Muslim men. The Muslims found the kil ing to be acceptable since a ‘fatwa’
had been issued by some cleric cal ing for the deaths of Van Gogh and Ali. They haven’t gotten to Ms. Ali yet since the Dutch government assigned police protection for her twenty-four/seven; but when the expenses for her security became unbearable, she was forced to leave and now lives in America.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Alan. I share your sentiments.”
“And you know that in Spain Muslim terrorists planted high explosives on rush hour commuter trains that kil ed how many hundreds of innocent people?”
“And the worst of it is that, much to the satisfaction of world-wide terrorists, their actions had exactly the effect they were hoping for on the Spanish elections,” Aly added.
“In Denmark, they weren’t happy with a couple of published cartoons portraying the Prophet Mohammed. They were offensive, as if nothing offensive to Muslims should ever be published. Within days fanatics had orchestrated demonstrations and flag burnings al over the Middle East and were urging a boycott of Danish goods.”
“Sorry to tel , my love, but I have to take exception. I was offended by those cartoons myself, and I’m pretty hard to offend,” Aly said, closing her day planner and gazing expectantly across the table.
“I think the cartoons were in bad taste too; don’t get me wrong. But I would never deny the Danes or anyone else the right to publish them,” Alan said.“But my main point was that the organization of the demonstrations a day after the cartoons appeared was remarkable. Coincidence? Maybe so. Overkil to the point of fanaticism? Absolutely.”
AN IDEA – ADALA
“But it’s just as important to remember that the fanatical Muslims you’re talking about, the ones causing the very events you just cited, are in the minority,” Aly said calmly but without reservation. “Most Muslims, including your wife, are peace loving, law abiding people.”
“I’ve never had a doubt about you, darling, but I can’t agree that most Muslims are peace loving. I’m real y bothered, and I hope you are as wel , by the paradox that if the majority of Muslims, including American Muslims, are peace loving and law abiding, then why are they so conspicuously silent about al of this?”
“Many of them are frightened. They fear retaliation. If not to them-selves, then to their families back in their native countries. The greatest weapon these terrorists have is fear, Alan,” she said pointedly, “and they wield it most skil ful y.”
The telephone rang just then. They looked at each other with quizzical expressions. “Kind of early,don’t you think?”Aly said and picked up the receiver.
“Hel o.”
“Good morning, Aly. It’s Herb Bentz,” a voice said softly. “I’m sorry to cal so early, but I have to speak with Alan. It’s important.”
Aly heard something in Herb’s voice that sent a chil along her spine, something purely instinctive. “What is it?” she heard herself ask.
“Dan Mil ar was in an accident.”
“What? What kind of accident? Is he al right?”
“Please, Aly; I have to speak with Alan. The battery on my cel phone is about to quit.”
Aly turned to Alan with an apprehensive look. She handed him the phone. “It’s Herb Bentz. Dan’s been in an accident.”
“Herb! What’s going on? What’s this about Dan?” Alan said into the phone.
“Alan. I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of such terrible news,” Herb said, his voice cracking, “but Dan is dead.”
“Dead?” Alan looked into Aly’s eyes. He reached out for her hand, taking it and squeezing it as if that might reverse what he had just been told. “What are you talking about, Herb? Dan’s on his way to Riyadh.”
“He didn’t make it, I’m afraid. A couple of hours ago the Agency learned that an Air France flight to Saudi Arabia, to Riyadh went down over the Alps with no possible survivors. A terrorist group cal ing itself Martyrs of Islam claimed responsibility an hour ago. The minute I heard, I obtained a copy of the manifest. Dan was on that flight.”
“Oh, my god! Those dirty cowards!”
“Alan, Alan, what happened? What happened to Dan?”
Alan dropped the receiver on the floor. Tears wel ed up in his eyes. He took Aly in his arms, and together they wept like children.
“There wil never be another like him,” cried Alan, “They kil ed him, Aly. They kil ed Dan.”
DAVIS INTERNATIONAL BUILDING
MARIE CHAVEZ, ALAN’S private secretary, greeted his late arrival with tearful y genuine condolences, knowing in her heart that the loss was hers too.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Davis,” she said. “Dan was such a warm and dear friend. A kinder man would be hard to find.”
“Thank you, Marie. I know how close you two were.” Dan had once described Marie as down to earth, attractive, trustworthy, and intel igent but not necessarily in that order. Coming from Dan, that was a high compliment.
“He never forgot a birthday or a holiday,” she heard herself saying. “Every Christmas, I’d give him something practical like a new tie, and he would give me something whimsical and expensive like a kaleidoscope.”
“That sounds like Dan, doesn’t it?” Alan said. He let her cry for a moment and then said. “Marie, I need you to set up a meeting for this afternoon with Herb Bentz and Brian Hal . I know it won’t be easy, but I’d like you there as wel .”
Marie wiped her eyes. “Anything special you’l need?”
AN IDEA – ADALA
THE MEETING BEGAN at 1:00 that afternoon in Alan’s executive conference room. His dad had decorated it with alternating planks of American birch and Lebanese cedar. The aromatic cedar always reminded Alan of his dad as he wondered what his father would think of what he was about to say. Alan opened the meeting by saying, “I’ve been thinking seriously over the last few hours about the consequences of losing Dan Mil ar, not only the loss to his wife and kids and to the rest of his family, including my wife, Aly; not only to me as a close, personal friend, to you three and al his other friends as wel …I don’t have words for that at the moment” Alan admitted, “but I’m also thinking about what it means to Davis International. Dan was as close to an irreplaceable asset as they come. His death constitutes a very substantial loss to the corporation. It may seem a bit cold to view Dan as an asset, but I want it clearly understood that whatever actions we may decide to take regarding his death wil be motivated exclusively by the need for corporate personnel protection. With that in mind, I’d like al of you to agree that this meeting wil be held in the strictest of confidence. Al agreed?”
Marie and Herb nodded, and Brian said, “Here, here.”
“Thank you,” Alan said. “Here’s the thing; I’m convinced that some-thing must be done to protect the personnel of this corporation against harm from the kind of terrorists who kil ed Dan and 200 other innocent people last night.” He looked at Herb and went on. “You probably know as much about terrorism as anyone in this country, Herb. You spent most of your career with the CIA thinking about it, planning for it, and plotting against it. And if anyone knows as much as you do, it’s probably Brian. Toss together the best of MI-6 and the Agency, and we’ve got a pretty good team.”
Herb sat silently; Brian nodded modestly.
“Here’s the bottom line,” Alan continued. “As sole owner of this business, I pledge to personal y finance any undertaking designed to lessen our exposure to terrorists, no matter where they are. As I see it, the perfect undertaking would be one that eliminated every terrorist in every radical organization on the planet. But let’s say that might be a bit too ambitious at this time and give some thought as to what we can do independently.”
“I don’t quite understand. Are you thinking about special security forces for our own people? Something like that?” Herb said, nosing around the subject.
“Something a little more proactive than that, I think, Herb. Something a little more aggressive,” Alan suggested.
“How much more aggressive?” Brian asked. “Like some type of independent military action?”
“More covert, I think,” Alan replied. “My thought is that if we cut off the head, the body dies too.”
Herb and Brian shared a quick look. The ex-CIA man said very careful y, “A covert type of action meant to do what, eliminate as many top terrorists as we can?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“And when you say eliminate, I assume you mean kil ,” Brian chimed in with considerably more bluntness.
“That’s exactly what I mean, Brian. Consider this. I would suspect, for example, that the elimination of Osama bin Laden would earn the assassin not only considerable praise but probably a $25,000,000 reward, as well. Maybe even a ticker tape parade. I can’t imagine any government or any international governing body bringing charges against the assassin, much less prosecuting him. And I see no difference between bin Laden and any lesser-known terrorist leader. Al are murderers. Al are cowards. Al are evil to the core.”
“Straight out assassination is not new. Every foreign intel igence agency in every government in the West has been trying to figure out the best way to do that for years, and with very limited success,” Brian noted. “Unfortunately, these agencies work at cross-purposes for political reasons. Nation A and Nation B
each profit from a mutual arrangement. One needs the other.”
“What are you saying?” Alan asked.
“Would either Nation A or Nation B embarrass or humiliate the other AN IDEA – ADALA
by uncovering terrorists in the territory of the other if that would jeopardize a mutual y profitable undertaking. I think not. Would either take any action against a terrorist within the other’s border? Not likely. Or would they ever take action against a necessary third party to their mutual agreement? They would not.”
“You’re right about politics, Brian, and we have to respect that to a degree. Any action we take on an independent level wil stil cal for as much inside intel igence from government agencies as we can get. It’s a key element to be sure,” added Herb.
“Okay, if we need their assistance, then that’s how we proceed,” Alan said. “The question is how.”
“Wel , for one thing, France has cal ed for an intel igence conference next week in Paris thanks to the Air France disaster. I can’t think of a better place to start.”
“Think they’l let an old CIA guy like you attend?” asked Alan.
“After what we’ve been discussing today? Wild horses couldn’t stop me,” Herb replied.
“Good. Let’s plan on it then, Herb.”
“Al right. Let’s talk about specifics,” said Brian. “If we’re talking about covertly targeting individual terrorists around the world––an idea I think is long overdue––let’s begin by asking the most basic question. Who? Who pul s the trigger?”
“We hire assassins,” Herb said.
“Logical, I suppose. But where do we get them?” asked Alan.
“Fair question. There are enough mercenaries and soldiers of fortune around these days that finding them isn’t a problem. We could advertise in a dozen different publications and get a hundred résumés tomorrow. Are they trustworthy? Discreet? Reliable? In most cases they can be convinced to be. Are they committed? That’s the real question.” Replied Brian.
“Mercenaries are one idea,for sure,”Alan said.“But I have another one I think we should try first.”
“I’m real y looking forward to this one,” said a smiling Herb.
“Look,” said Alan. “This is a Muslim thing. There are probably a couple of mil ion American Muslims, an unknown number of whom might be as angry at these terrorists as we are. Yet he or she takes it on the chin every time a terrorist event occurs. People shun them. People hate them. Mostly, people fear them. They have a tough time just walking down the street and going into a shop. They suffer extreme humiliation at air-ports. They jump on a bus or a train and have to endure looks that would put a hole through most of us. Their religion is made to look ridiculous. The Qur’an suddenly becomes a lot of contradictory nonsense.”
“So what are you saying?” Herb wanted it spel ed out.
“I’m saying that if anyone should be motivated to take action against terrorism, it is the American Muslim.”
“Take a look at the most recent Pew Research Center study. You might be right,”Brian chimed in. “According to their findings, American Muslims feel just like the rest of us do when it comes to terrorists, and they don’t see a societal division when living in the more modern Western world.”
“If that’s true,” they heard Marie say, “then why aren’t they more proactive and more vocal when it comes to condemning terrorists? I don’t get it.”
“I asked Aly that same question, Marie,” Alan said. “According to her, they’re scared to death…scared about retribution to them, to their families.”
“Yeah, but there’s another point worth mentioning,” Brian said. “The same study found that twenty-five percent of younger Muslim adults think Al Qaeda is performing a necessary function and doing a pretty good job of it. What about that?”
“Obviously we scratch that particular twenty-five percent off our list. But that leaves us with a pretty good-sized pool of potential y eligible candidates.”
“Ninety-nine point nine percent of whom have absolutely no skil s or experience in the art of good, old-fashioned assassination.”
“So we teach them the good old-fashioned art of assassination,” Alan replied with a shrug. “We build a training facility. We provide training in everything from weaponry and methodology to espionage and camouflage.
AN IDEA – ADALA
We provide visas and passports and whatever else they need, and we offer the kind of compensation package that makes it hard to say no.”
“Alan, I know you’re upset about what happened to Dan. We al are. But what you’re proposing could cost a fortune,” Herb said. “I don’t want to mislead you.”
“That’s my worry. I need you and Brian to help me set up the project from beginning to end––al the nuts and bolts. We cover al the bases. And when word gets out that it’s Muslims risking their lives to rid the world of terrorists, their reputations wil reverse dramatical y. They won’t be shunned or mistrusted or hated anymore. Just the opposite. Their clerics wil become proactive in defense of their brave congregations, air travel wil become a pleasant experience again, and the Qur’an will be accepted as the sacred book that it is.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Herb agreed.
“There is something else to consider,” Brian said. “As we go forward with the project, you can believe that many people––Davis International personnel, our own families, even our friends in foreign intel igence around the world are sure as hel going to wonder what we’re doing.”
“You’re right,” Alan said, “And the safest way to conceal the actual nature of the project is to tel the truth, or at least as much of it as we can. If we have to, we say we’re training Muslims to supplement agents already working undercover in Islamic countries. If that’s not enough, we say any-thing our people learn is to be turned over to the appropriate government agencies. The one thing we never reveal is that we intend to take further direct action against the targets we specify. Best case, we don’t tel anyone anything, and I mean anything, unless we have to.”
“On that we agree,” Herb said.
“So what do you think?” Alan asked.
“I think you’ve dropped a bomb on us, Alan,” Brian said without equivocation.
“And I think Herb and I have some serious ethical and moral thinking to do. Shal we schedule another meeting?”
“If you’re both available, I’d like to make it for two days from now.”
EDEN, GLEN COVE, N. Y.
WHEN ALAN ARRIVED at EDEN that evening, he was greeted by a wan, anxious Aly. She had just spent the day with Dan’s wife, Betty, and a house-ful of disbelieving, grief-stricken family members.
“How is everyone?” he asked as they walked into the living room arm in arm.
“It’s just the most heartbreaking thing in the world. Betty is a wreck. And I look at the girls and realize they wil never see their dad again. Oh, Alan, it’s so unfair.”
Alan made cocktails and joined Aly. Seated close together on one of the silken Oriental couches surrounding the great fireplace above which hung a portrait of Alan and Aly’s wedding party, they spoke softly and solemnly about Dan. The image of the best man, standing next to Alan reminded them of the joy of that day along with the sadness and bitterness they were feeling today. Final y, near exhaustion from emotion, Aly changed the subject and asked,
“What kind of a reaction did you get today darling?”
“We had a good preliminary meeting. Not much was decided other than the fact that DII wil bear the costs of whatever we do. Herb and Brian are going to brainstorm the idea. We’ve scheduled the next meeting for the day after tomorrow and hopeful y we’l come up with something solid.”
“What is it that you, Alan Davis, friend, confidante, and the brains behind DII think is a good plan?”
“Probably to set up a camp to train agents in the art of gathering covert information about anyone who might represent a threat to our personnel here or abroad. We’d want to look into the circumstances of the Air France flight and try to identify the kil ers. In short, we’d look into who the terrorists are and what their plans might be. Our best protection is timely, accurate intel igence.”
“And what would you do with this information once you got your hands on it?”
“Turn it over to the proper authorities,” he lied––lied and hated him-self for doing it.
AN IDEA – ADALA
“Haven’t the U.S. and their al ies enough spies of their own?” Aly wondered.
“Evidently not. Herb and Brian told me the West is woeful y short of undercover agents.” Alan drank.
He felt the heat of the alcohol and wondered what Dan’s last thought was before the end.
“One idea we kicked around was to recruit Arabic speaking Muslims living in the States and insert them in places where we suspect terrorist activity.”
“And then what? Just wait? Can you afford to underwrite the expenses on something so open-ended?”
“The cost isn’t the problem,” Alan assured her. “But there are two things you can help me out with.”
“Fire away.”
“I want to give our project an Arabic name…I was thinking about the Arabic word for “justice.”
“That’s easy. Adala. Here, I’l write it down for you.” Aly retrieved a pad and pencil and wrote: A-d-a-l-a. Then she said it. “Adala.”
“Adala is perfect,” Alan said. “It’s perfect.”
“And the other thing?”
“I’d like you to cal Imam Mohammed Aziz and ask if it’s possible for him to come to my office tomorrow afternoon.”
“Consider it done.” She kissed him gently. He held her.
DAVIS INTERNATIONAL BUILDING
THE DIRECTOR OF human resources for DII was a brisk, compact man named Harry Neuman. Harry was forty-seven years old and could well have passed for a man ten years older. He sported a neatly trimmed gray beard, silver hair, and a face straight off a scarecrow. His claim to fame was a penchant for being ten minutes early for even the earliest meeting, and he was waiting in Alan’s outer office when the boss arrived at 5:45.
“Don’t you ever sleep, Harry?” Alan asked as he glanced at the coffee carafe.
“Not if it interferes with a good sunrise,” Harry admitted.
“And you probably don’t drink coffee either.”
“You’d be wrong there, Mr. Davis.”
“Good.” The coffee had just finished dripping, and Alan poured two cups. He handed one to Harry as he waved him toward a chair and carried his own to his desk.
“As you know, we al grieve the loss of Dan Mil ar, Harry.” Enough smal talk.
“And I want DII to do something about the way he died. We have to try to protect our people. Some of them travel to the most problematic areas in the world. That’s just the nature of their jobs.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied.
“What I want to do is hire and train Arabic speaking Muslims for espionage activities in appropriate countries to assist existing authorities in the identification and monitoring of terrorists.”
Alan could see Harry trying to control his face muscles. “Okay. And the profile?”
“Muslim, Arabic fluency, American citizen or green card. They have to be in good health and between the ages of twenty-five and forty. I need you to find out how to reach this profile quickly. There wil also be an excel ent compensation package.”
“How soon would you like the info, sir?”
“Yesterday.” Alan walked him to the door. “Please drop by tomorrow morning with an update.”
THAT AFTERNOON, IMAM Mohammed Aziz, the Muslim cleric from the Shah Alam mosque that Aly sometimes attended, appeared at Alan’s office. The imam was a cheerful, somewhat rotund man with a white-trimmed beard and Ben Franklin glasses.
Over the years, Imam Aziz and Aly had spent many hours discussing Islam, and although he was a Shi te and she a Sunni, they had become close friends. The imam had been a guest at EDEN on many occasions and knew Alan wel . AN IDEA – ADALA
“Hel o, my friend,” said the imam. “I’m so terribly sorry to learn about Dan. My prayers are with his family and friends.”
“Thank you, Mohammed. And thanks a mil ion for coming. We don’t see enough of each other. May I offer you some tea?”
“Ah, thank you, but no. I’m feeling a bit bloated after lunch. I know we would see much more of each other if you converted to Islam and joined my Mosque,” said the imam with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“Aly’s working on that,” said Alan as he motioned for Mohammed Aziz to take a seat. “I wanted to talk with you briefly about the American Muslim and perhaps become a bit more educated.”
“We both know how bad it is for American Muslims when terrorists murder people anywhere in the world; the suspicion that befal s them, the mistrust, and the disdain. Terrible. How do they feel inside?”
“They are unhappy certainly,” said Aziz, “and they would like for terrorist activities to cease.”
“Would they, themselves want to do something about it?”
“I suppose some would, but this is a very difficult matter for them.”
“What do you mean Mohammed?”
“Simply this; they have families both here in America and in the countries from which they emigrated. These people are extremely vulnerable to reprisals.”
“Are you saying they are too frightened to express their opposition? That they actual y believe the terrorists have arms long enough to reach them even here in America?”
“Yes, the truth is they are afraid or at least apprehensive