traceable or decipherable and all of the crap in Hollywood movies about secure lines was just a smoke screen to keep the world believing that it could actually communicate incognito, making it easier for security forces around the world to learn what they wanted. Now his office routed all communications through a complex system that relied upon genuine local telephone lines or websites. Digital encryption was rarely used. It only drew attention, and attention was one thing they did not want. Transparent communications were tedious, but surprisingly effective.
The phone began to ring, and he clicked on the attached jpg file as he waited for the operative to pick up. What he saw almost took his breath away. A voice answered on the other end with the traditional Muslim greeting of peace.
“ As-salamu alaykum .”
“ Wa Alaykum As-salam .”
“Are you looking at the digital copy I sent?”
“I am,” answered Ahmet. “I cannot read it, but it bears the Seal, which would suggest it was prepared by the Ottoman Bureau. Are you sure of its authenticity?”
“As the infidel says, ‘Seeing is believing’ and I have seen and touched it.”
“What is the significance?”
“Let me just say that our connection with one of our largest disinformation and cultural subterfuge projects of all time is on the verge of discovery, and they have one of the original termination orders.”
“Original?”
“Yes. From a man that has been under low-level surveillance for years.”
“Which project is it?”
“Son of prophet.”
“ Amanin! You’re sure?!”
“Sir, as you will see from a perusal of my file, this is my area of expertise.”
“But, how can this be?! That was centuries ago?”
“That I do not know.”
“Have you secured it?”
“It was impossible without arousing suspicion.”
“Does the owner know what he is holding?”
“At present, he does not know enough to pose a threat, but he is an intelligent researcher. What’s more, he has connections that could make this headline news. He is by nature slow and cautious, but it is essential that we move quickly. What are my instructions?”
“You will be contacted through one of the usual channels. We must recover the document and destroy any copies. Do you know if any have been made?”
“He only found it last week and his secretary took a digital photograph today. He is quite unaware of the document’s importance, so I doubt he has made any other copies.”
“Nevertheless, all of his storage devices, including his secretary’s, must be wiped. No trace of this may remain. I will be back in touch with you in six hours. Begin your preparations.”
“It will be done, inshallah .”
“Inshallah.”
Ahmet turned off the phone and set it on his desk. He sat in quiet, but intense meditation for several minutes. The success of the son of prophet project was undeniable even if it had happened almost entirely by accident. Then again, he didn’t believe in accidents. He knew that Allah had turned failure on its head and achieved a spectacular success with the fumbling efforts of his servants. They could not let it be exposed now.
He had been part of the brotherhood for nineteen years, much of it here, as a security analyst working under the auspices of the Islamic Bank of Egypt among the Arabs, but never had such an opportunity presented itself. If he could supervise a flawless execution, he felt certain this would win him the promotion that would return him to his beloved Istanbul.
The self-imposed exile, the difficulties of living and working in a foreign land were beginning to wear on him. He longed for the familiar, though the brotherhood strongly discouraged such bonds. Still, he missed the Bosphorus, the refreshing taste of ayran , and the redbuds in the spring.
The brotherhood rewarded cunning and shrewdness. Ahmet’s rapid advance to Chief of Operations for Africa was proof of that. However, he had stagnated here in Cairo for almost ten
The phone began to ring, and he clicked on the attached jpg file as he waited for the operative to pick up. What he saw almost took his breath away. A voice answered on the other end with the traditional Muslim greeting of peace.
“ As-salamu alaykum .”
“ Wa Alaykum As-salam .”
“Are you looking at the digital copy I sent?”
“I am,” answered Ahmet. “I cannot read it, but it bears the Seal, which would suggest it was prepared by the Ottoman Bureau. Are you sure of its authenticity?”
“As the infidel says, ‘Seeing is believing’ and I have seen and touched it.”
“What is the significance?”
“Let me just say that our connection with one of our largest disinformation and cultural subterfuge projects of all time is on the verge of discovery, and they have one of the original termination orders.”
“Original?”
“Yes. From a man that has been under low-level surveillance for years.”
“Which project is it?”
“Son of prophet.”
“ Amanin! You’re sure?!”
“Sir, as you will see from a perusal of my file, this is my area of expertise.”
“But, how can this be?! That was centuries ago?”
“That I do not know.”
“Have you secured it?”
“It was impossible without arousing suspicion.”
“Does the owner know what he is holding?”
“At present, he does not know enough to pose a threat, but he is an intelligent researcher. What’s more, he has connections that could make this headline news. He is by nature slow and cautious, but it is essential that we move quickly. What are my instructions?”
“You will be contacted through one of the usual channels. We must recover the document and destroy any copies. Do you know if any have been made?”
“He only found it last week and his secretary took a digital photograph today. He is quite unaware of the document’s importance, so I doubt he has made any other copies.”
“Nevertheless, all of his storage devices, including his secretary’s, must be wiped. No trace of this may remain. I will be back in touch with you in six hours. Begin your preparations.”
“It will be done, inshallah .”
“Inshallah.”
Ahmet turned off the phone and set it on his desk. He sat in quiet, but intense meditation for several minutes. The success of the son of prophet project was undeniable even if it had happened almost entirely by accident. Then again, he didn’t believe in accidents. He knew that Allah had turned failure on its head and achieved a spectacular success with the fumbling efforts of his servants. They could not let it be exposed now.
He had been part of the brotherhood for nineteen years, much of it here, as a security analyst working under the auspices of the Islamic Bank of Egypt among the Arabs, but never had such an opportunity presented itself. If he could supervise a flawless execution, he felt certain this would win him the promotion that would return him to his beloved Istanbul.
The self-imposed exile, the difficulties of living and working in a foreign land were beginning to wear on him. He longed for the familiar, though the brotherhood strongly discouraged such bonds. Still, he missed the Bosphorus, the refreshing taste of ayran , and the redbuds in the spring.
The brotherhood rewarded cunning and shrewdness. Ahmet’s rapid advance to Chief of Operations for Africa was proof of that. However, he had stagnated here in Cairo for almost ten
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