by Gavin Reese
When Michael reached the next intersection, he glanced back, saw none of his pursuers, and returned to his intended stroll. Walking north again, he planned tomorrow’s efforts. The brief success of his flight gave way to the dangerous reality of this assignment. How am I going to pull this off if I can’t even walk the goddamned street without attracting hate and violence?
May 8, 06:02am
Basilica Cathédrale de Saint-Denis. Saint-Denis, France.
Gerard drove his fake taxi to a handicapped parking area, which was the closest lot to the Saint Denis Cathedral. He emerged from the sedan and joined the few early morning parishioners who struggled to practice their faith amidst the tourists and gawkers their cathedral hosted six days a week. This place is rarely quiet and solemn.
Gerard hurried inside, and just as the other regulars walking around him, he didn’t pause to gawk at the cathedral’s immense beauty and grandeur. He’d seen it far too many times to be impressed today. The whole appeal of Saint Denis this morning lies within one man, not its structure. As Gerard pressed on toward the confessional booths, he and Father Luc Devoux made eye contact. The priest's concern at the unexpected visit clearly registered on his face.
“I’d bid you a good morning,” Luc offered when Gerard reached him, “but I fear it’s pointless. What’s wrong?”
“Do you have a few minutes for an old friend?” Gerard gestured toward the closest booth. Luc nodded and stepped toward his appointed side.
Gerard entered the confessional booth, closed the flimsy door behind him, and apprehensively sat on a thin, threadbare cushion atop its flat wood seat. I can pretend that none of this is real until I say it aloud, but that’s not accurate. It’s happening with or without my involvement. From his side, Luc slid open a narrow blind so that only a thin wood screen separated them. Intended to obscure the priest’s vision and assure parishioners of their anonymity, its symmetric and repeated fleur de lis pattern had more effectively immortalized the anonymous carpenter’s 18th-century craftsmanship.
“What’s troubling you, brother?” Even ignoring their lifelong friendship, Luc had listened to Gerard’s confessions long enough that neither pretended any potential anonymity existed between them.
Gerard crossed himself and bowed his head. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been one day since my last confession, and I’m carrying fear and anger in my heart.” He paused to catch his breath and stymie the emotions threatening to swell beyond his control.
“I’m here to help. God loves you. Go on.”
“So much has happened in the last day, and none of it for the better. I’m desperate, Luc, it’s spinning so far out of control. It’s all I can do to carry on. If I stop to think, everything overwhelms me. My marriage is over, and my daughter barely speaks to me because she thinks it’s my fault.” Closing his eyes, Gerard hung his head and inhaled a deep, calming breath. Have to get it out...
“The investigation I discussed with you,” he continued, “the one here in Seine-Saint-Denis? It has been, canceled, by my superior, the esteemed and all-knowing Lieutenant Algeri.”
“What? Why?”
Although surprised by Luc’s reaction, his friend’s harsh whisper conveyed the incredulousness Gerard still felt. “I know, I’m still asking those same questions. He claimed that we had no criminal basis for the investigation, not even reasonable suspicion of a crime. Without making an official accusation, he accused my team with acting from our own racial bias.” Gerard inhaled and shook his head. “The worst part is, of course, that he’s wrong. About everything, well almost everything. He actually could be right that the man’s committed no crime, but Algeri’s absolutely wrong about the basis of our investigation! The suspect might have no ill will to the people or the nation of France, but, if Algeri gets his way, we’ll never know for sure unless his bombs detonate!”
“What does that mean for you, for your case, and the work you and the team--”
“Up in smoke,” Gerard scoffed. “At least, it should be.”
“Should be? Gerard, what are you withholding?”
He leaned against the uncomfortable, straight seat back and looked up at the booth’s familiar ceiling above him. “I’m afraid that I’m risking everything right now, Luc. Everything. My job, my career. Claudette, although I fear she won’t come back. Even Marie's safety hangs in the balance.”
“What’s happened that your wife and daughter are at risk? There’s nothing so great that God and His angels cannot overcome it.”
Gerard stayed focused on the ceiling. Somehow, it soothed him and eased his general discomfort with the whole confessional process. “I disobeyed Algeri’s orders. As the agent in charge, it was my responsibility to dismantle the operation, return its equipment to the quartermasters, and move on to my next assignment. I did that, of course, because I needed Algeri to believe I had complied. Instead of following through, I used my official credentials to rent another safehouse and ordered the technology workers to move everything over there. Only a few hours passed between Algeri’s order to shutter the investigation and the moment my surveillance equipment came back online. Even if he hasn't yet learned of it, I can’t dispute the debt when it’s billed to my expense account at the end of the month.”
“Oh, Gerard. No.”
“Oh, yes. Then, I got a phone call from Algeri just yesterday afternoon. He knew I never reported to my new bullshit assignment to find unlicensed cabs in the tourist areas.” Gerard moved his gaze to the screen, even though Luc sat back beyond his sight. “I mean, really, what the fuck is that? He forces me to close a terrorism investigation to go write tickets to taxi drivers who can’t afford the government permits and fees? I didn’t go to the police academy to do chickenshit work, Luc, and I didn’t come home from the Middle East to let my enemies there attack my people and my family on our own soil.”
“How much do you think Algeri knows?”
“He knows I’m up to something, but he has nothing but suspicion for the moment. If he knew, I’d already be terminated. Algeri’s not stupid, he’s just misguided.”
“So, how do you proceed from here?”
Gerard exhaled, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s the most important question, isn't it? I don’t know. No one else has come forward to help, I mean, not really. The tech supervisor knows what I’m doing, and he won’t stop or report me, but he’s not sending his men out to help, either. It’s just me. Well, me, and about a dozen cameras that I’m getting to know well.
“I even got his apartment identified, Luc, just yesterday! Now that I know that, we can tighten the noose around him, but I need access to our databases for records checks. Algeri can see my database access and searches, though, so he’ll uncover my betrayal as soon as I press ‘enter’ for the first search. I can't ask anyone else to look into it, because I’m certain he flagged the address, just to see if he can persecute me. If a French cop searches for anyone living at 8 Rue de Corbillon, Algeri will question if I asked them to do it. My hands are tied until I can get around this.”
Gerard paused and breathed deep again. Keep yourself together. He spoke to himself as much as he did the priest. “Perhaps this is untenable. I’m risking every thing and every one I care about, and I might not be right, in the end. Won’t that be a bitch. Throw it all away to prove the accusation's false.”
“What if you had help? I mean, maybe, if one more person who understood the importance of being thorough and discreet in the face of adversity?”
Gerard shook his head. “That’s sweet, Luc, it is. I appreciate where your heart is, but you don't have the experience that I need--”
“Not me, stupid, someone else with the expertise to help. You don’t need to berate me, I’m well aware of the limitations to my effectiveness.”
He blushed at his mistake, but still found the image darkly humorous and took the opportunity to rib his friend. “Forgive me, I thought you were finally emerging from the safety of your stone
fortress to immerse yourself in God’s real work.”
“Eat shit, the arrogance of you and your army and police colleagues--”
“Yeah, yeah, Luc, I know the long history of your precious French Navy, but your skill with running an 18-century sail does no good for anyone today.” Silence enveloped the booth and Gerard sensed his friend’s impatience. “Truly, I meant no offense.”
“Still, I wonder what the addition of one more person could do for your potential success?”
“What’s the point, Luc? I’ve been ordered to report to the taxi sergeant this morning, so to keep my position and continue to feed my daughter, I’m forced to walk away from this at the very moment we’ve had a major break in the case! It’s over, and I have to hide my efforts so Algeri doesn’t ever discover them.”
“Humor me. Please.”
Gerard looked back at the ceiling and pondered the possibilities. “One more body, just one. It depends on what they could do. Another trigger puller is almost no use to me. I don’t need more gunfighters, I need someone skilled in deception, intelligence, countersurveillance. Someone who can help me get around the current problems I have with getting the intel and database access I need to keep putting together this puzzle. If that were possible, if that could be done? Then, having one more man might make the difference I need.”
“What are your plans, then, having the mandate from Algeri and still needing this one missing, specialized asset?”
Gerard sighed, still unsure himself. I know what I want to do and what’s demanded of me, but I don’t know how to live with either decision. “I could not be more torn. I have a duty, from my oath and my own need to protect my people from monsters, like no one protected us when we were growing up, you remember?”
“You know I do. Evil comes to every man at some point, Gerard. I hope that it's done with me in this life.”
“I fear it is not yet done with me, friend. I want to do what’s right for the public, but that means I have to risk whatever remains of my marriage, along with the health and security of my daughter. This is an important job, and it’s the best one I’ve had since I left the army.”
“Do you think your former work as a sniper in the Middle East has clouded your objectivity with this investigation?”
The unexpected question forced Gerard to pause and consider its possibility. “No. No, I do not. In the army, I got a target that others had identified. Sometimes, I developed targets on my own from their actions and behavior. I don’t care that the subject here is Muslim, or Middle Eastern, if the allegations were against a fellow Frenchman, I’d have done nothing different up to now. That job was easier, even though I spent so much time hiding in adult diapers. From a place they could not see came a shot they would not hear. Simple. Effective.”
“Are you confident that this one man, with the right skillset and capabilities, could make the substantial difference you need right now? Could you know for certain, one way or the other, in only another few days, and then walk away with a clear conscience, if you had the help you need?”
“It doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t matter! I don’t have such a man who’s stood up and volunteered to put himself in harm’s way to join my fool’s errand! None of my coworkers have the spine, or they’d have so by now. My efforts are no longer a well-kept secret, so Algeri will soon know everything I’ve done. He’ll send me off as soon as he does, might even hold a press conference to take credit for culling Islamophobia from the S-DAT.”
Gerard paused and both men let the silence stew around them. “I have to make the responsible decision to keep Marie from living in the basement of the goddamned Picasso museum when I lose my job and Claudette can no longer pay her bills.”
With his priest uncharacteristically silent, Gerard leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “This is an impossible task, Luc, I have no way to succeed on my own, and I fear the only way to do so, if I’m wrong, is tantamount to murder. I can’t risk that. I have to try convincing Algeri or his boss to allow me more time and resources, or, I guess... nothing. Just walk away and see if anything explodes later. There is no other option.
“We can clean up the mess and Algeri can assign blame afterwards, that’s something we’re very good at. It’s even possible he’ll help me collect the dead, as long as they’re his fellow Muslims. Bastard won’t even shake hands with a Christian.” He looked through the screen. “Are you even listening to me anymore?”
Luc cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed tone that barely passed through the screen. “Maybe you’re giving up, too soon. It is possible that another like-minded man, such as yourself, with similar skills and mindset may be afoot.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
Through the screen, Gerard saw Luc gazing down toward the floor. “The trouble, I fear, will be finding him in time.”
“Luc!” Gerard waited until his friend snapped out of his thoughts and made eye contact with him. “Who?!”
“I’m, uhh, not exactly sure, but you have to understand the risk I’m taking is the same as you’ve incurred in recent days. I can be severely reprimanded, and I might even risk excomm--”
“Luc, if you don’t explain yourself, right now, I’m going to beat you like the day we met!”
“Andrew! That’s his name, Gerard, at least, I think it is. Father Andrew.”
May 8, 06:36am
The Oremus Hotel. Paris, France.
Michael stepped from The Oremus Hotel into a perfect spring morning in Paris. After checking the area for any obvious op-for, he strolled toward his first objective and allowed himself a few moments to breathe in the cool morning air, to let the low sunlight warm his face, and to enjoy the Champs Élysées without its typical hordes.
As he approached the first intersection, Michael brought his focus back to his dangerous reality. He nudged the back of the suppressed .22-caliber assassin’s pistol concealed in the front of his waistline, scanned for threats, and reminded himself of this operation’s potential dangers. Too many players on the field, so I might attract attention from the French police, military, or intel services if they’re watching Abrini, or any other target in the same area. That kind of op-for has enough time and resources to dedicate a team to finding out if I’m friend or foe. He inhaled a deep breath and nonchalantly assessed the other pedestrians while waiting for a traffic light to change. I don’t have time to sit in lock-up for a few days until someone decides they have to release me.
As he strode toward the second-closest Metro station, Michael considered his operational objectives and resources. Jacques delivered the triggerfish and two covert Wi-Fi cameras, but I’m not ready to penetrate Abrini’s building yet. The N-G-O docs Jacques produced will only get me in and out once, maybe, so I can’t risk burning them on a walk-about. Out of anxious habit, he rechecked his watch and used the movement to nudge his concealed pistol. Jacques should drop off the haz-mat sniffer later today. I could get used to having this guy around.
Michael perused the magazines and daily publications at a newspaper stand to cover his surveillance detection efforts. Once satisfied he hadn’t yet grown a tail, he purchased a British paper and strode down the Metro station stairs. A Spanish language paper would be more useful, but there’s no point in pretending I’m French. He waited to open the paper until he descended a long escalator. Standing to the right, he turned his body slightly left so that no one could approach without his notice. A below-the-fold headline caught his attention.
ISIS VIDEO DECRIES INVASION OF S. ARABIA
Michael skimmed the article and its summary of a recent YouTube post condemning the longstanding NATO military presence in Saudi Arabia. That’s upset literal Islamists for decades. The Qur’an forbids the practice of other religions in that nation, so the presence of foreign nonbelievers violates that sura. Michael scoffed in frustration and risked another casual scan of the platform. If that’s so upsetting, why isn’t ISIS protesting the Saudi government,
or taking out their aggression on the monarchy that signed the treaties? Wouldn’t that be more effective than bombing soft targets around the rest of the world? He scoffed when the thought reminded him of an expression one of his former shift partners from Silver City offered in every such discussion: Don’t apply Western logic to Middle Eastern problems, son. That mistake’s kept a dozen generations of the world’s ancestors in a goddamned pickle barrel.
brrtbrrt brrtbrrt
Michael folded the paper in half again, tucked it under his left arm, and retrieved his work cell. Its notifications alerted him to an encrypted message marked Urgent. Opening that app, he saw it had come from John.
Desk nerds are still working to confirm--ABRINI’s imam might be on the US Terror Watchlist.
Michael typed a hurried response: The mosque in ABRINI’s building? Does ABRINI follow the imam’s teachings?
The blue cursor blinked patiently on Michael’s screen while John typed.
Yes, same mosque. Cops have footage of ABRINI attending several Friday prayers over the past four months. Who else gives the sermons and guidance, if not the imam?
May 8, 06:45am
8 Rue du Corbillon #415. Saint-Denis, France.
Abdel Abrini finished his sunrise prayer recitations, rose to his feet, and rolled his prayer rug. Placing it next to five large backpacks, he realized his behavior would soon change. I must become even more cautious once they're loaded and prepared. He walked to the apartment’s open windows and inhaled the cool spring morning. Two more days until I secure the apartment. I am at least six hours ahead of schedule, but I can further improve that. Abdel held his breath for a long moment, exhaled, relaxed his shoulders, and physically expelled his stress. This perfects our scheduled delivery and will lead other believers to the strict obedience that God demands of his servants.
