One week prior, Abdul Masri, Yassin’s second-in-command, a tall, bearded man in his early forties, had joined Yassin for a cup of coffee. Yassin didn’t particularly like the man. But Masri had proven himself to be defiant yet loyal. And loyalty went a long way with him.
When Masri asked if the years of planning were worth it, Yassin hesitated before replying. He was tempted to tell his second-in-command it was none of his business. “Why do you ask?” he said instead.
“Because, if it was me, I wouldn’t have the patience.”
“Even if you knew the good you were doing?”
“Even then. So I admire you.”
“There is nothing to admire. This plot was initiated a few years ago. Paid informants did the research. Arranging the funding was the most complicated part.”
“But still worth it?” Abdul persisted.
He nodded. “Absolutely. Look at the impact we will have. The number of casualties. You will go down in history, my friend, along with the rest of us.”
When Yassin asked about the final arrangements, Masri acted as if it were an imposition to have to review it with him.
“First,” he began, making a show of counting on his fingers, “your airline ticket has been bought and paid for, in cash, in the name you provided. A few of us will be leaving the country by other means. The rest will disperse. Some will return to their private lives, at least for the time being.
“Second, the videotaping of the girl will be completed this afternoon. We will get her to say all the right things, so her father will believe they are to be reunited.
“Third, our group has already been divided into teams as you had instructed. One team will handle luggage and transportation and the like. The other will assure that every piece of furniture, as well as utensils, walls, windows, and lavatories are wiped clean and sterilized.
“Fourth, on the day the retailers put the product on sale, at midnight on September 7th, I will leave New York and drive to Montreal, then fly to Cairo. I will make my way by land back to Palestine. A few others, especially Bishara and Munir, will take circuitous routes but use similar itineraries. They will catch up with us later. Did I cover it all?”
Yassin caught the tone of the question but let it pass. He had either been locked up with Masri too long, or the man simply grated on his nerves. “Seems like you covered it fine,” he said. “Thank you.”
Yassin now took a digitized electronic receiver out of his pocket and turned it on. Feedback caused it to shriek. He changed positions in the chair and the sound stopped. Sometimes, when he got too close to the transmitting wire, he’d get the same result. “I guess it’s working,” he said. “Why don’t you step into the hallway and say a few words?”
Masri did as he was told.
Yassin found that the signal was clear enough for him to hear the other man’s breathing.
“Testing,” Masri’s voice soon came through. “Testing, one, two, three.”
“One week from Friday,” Yassin said when the other man returned, “you will take Mr. Mulligan with you to his distribution center. There, you will park opposite the loading dock on the side of the building. Mulligan will be wired. You will listen in as he approves the shipping of Cyber-tech to the retailer’s warehouses across the country. If he doesn’t do this, if anything he says raises suspicion, you will immediately abort your position.
“If he does as he is told, however, as soon as you see him returning to the car, you will call me on your cell phone. Once he gets in the car, you are to kill him, dump his body in the trunk, and call me back.
“Without that second phone call we will assume that something has gone wrong.” He paused. “Do you have the cyanide tablet?”
Masri told him that he did, motioning toward his shirt pocket.
“Good. Under no circumstances are you to allow the authorities to capture you. We are too close now to have anything go wrong. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Masri muttered disdainfully.
Yassin looked at him long and hard, but held his silence.