InterCityHotel, Frankfurt, Germany
A knock at the door silenced the room, everyone turning as Nazari peered through the peephole then waved them off, opening the door. A man stepped inside, the door closed, hugs exchanged.
Everyone rose, including Kane. Almost his entire cell had made it, including several he had only heard of and never met.
It was disturbing.
They had done nothing special, had no help from anyone beyond the prearranged boat from Turkey, any additional help not provided until they had made it to Germany, which begged the question: how many other cells had also arrived with such ease?
He silently prayed his cell had received special treatment in Turkey due to their specific mission, but arranging a boat was easy with money, and ISIL was extremely well financed. It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility that the rhetoric preached to them by Nazari of thousands sent may actually be fact. He didn’t for a moment believe the half million number he had heard bandied about, it a ridiculous notion, but hundreds? Absolutely. Thousands? Possible if not probable.
And this new arrival was holding up a bag as if he were Santa Claus, perhaps the worst possible comparison his mind could have come up with.
“I come bearing gifts, my friends!”
Or not.
He opened the cloth bag, reached inside then pulled out his hand with a flourish. “New passports and IDs for everyone!”
Nazari quickly ended a round of cheers and Allahu Akbars.
“Silence you fools! Do you want people to know we are here?”
Sheepish looks were exchanged, Kane disappointed that Nazari continued to prove his intelligence. Though the Germans were fools on the refugee front, they were not when it came to terrorism, and would take seriously any report of a bunch of Middle Eastern men shouting Allahu Akbar in a hotel room only miles from the busiest airport in the country.
He had yet to have a moment to himself though had managed to get his face on a few cameras, especially since they had arrived in Germany, there so many traffic cameras, ATM cameras and such, that surely some had picked him up.
He just hoped Langley was looking for him.
Protocol would suggest he had already been designated MIA, but until they had some sort of proof, a star wouldn’t be going up on the wall at Headquarters, and people like his buddy Chris would keep searching.
I wonder if Fang is worrying about me.
The thought of her filled his stomach with butterflies as he watched the passports being handed out, and his reaction to the memory of her was so strange for him, he realized that for once in his life he actually had genuine feelings for a woman.
It felt kind of good.
The new arrival stared at him. “I don’t have one for him.”
Kane pretended not to understand.
“He’s American. He already has a passport.” Nazari turned to him, switching to English. “Show him your passport.”
Kane nodded, producing the artificially aged document produced by Langley. “All set,” he said, smiling.
The man nodded, eying him with suspicion.
Christ, does no one here trust me?
The passports handed out, the man reached into his bag, pulling out a sheaf of papers. “Boarding passes!”
One person yelled out Allahu before cutting himself off, several snickers escaping from the others.
“When do we leave?” asked one of the men.
The man held up the passes, waving them in the air. “Tomorrow you arrive in New York City, Allah willing.”
Smiles and murmured exclamations of excitement spread through the room.
Nazari smiled. “And then Armageddon begins.”