Paris

Craig Page, Director of the EU Counterterrorism Agency, leaned back in the chair in his Paris office and closed his eyes. It had only been ten days since his successful defense of the Vatican and the battle for Southern Spain, and he was still emotionally strung out.

He realized that he had plenty to be pleased about. He had thwarted the daring plan of Musa Ben Abdil to launch a rocket attack on the Pope and the Vatican on Easter morning, while at the same time creating a Muslim enclave in Southern Spain. Many had perished in that lunatic’s march across Southern Spain to the Alhambra, but Musa Ben Abdil and his lieutenant Omar had died rather than surrender, which the remains of his ragtag army were all too happy to do to save their lives. The Alhambra had been spared damage. And Craig had managed to rescue Elizabeth from her captivity unharmed.

Despite all of that, for Craig, it was a bittersweet victory. The ruthless General Zhou, whom Craig was convinced was the brains behind Mohammad Ben Abdil’s plans, had managed to escape, along with his mistress, Androshka. A year and a half before these attacks, General Zhou had planned the murder of Craig’s daughter, Francesca, his only child. All Craig could think about was gaining revenge over Zhou. After these separate encounters, Craig’s animosity toward General Zhou had reached gargantuan proportions. No matter what he did, he kept thinking about it.

Last night, in bed in their apartment in Montmarte, Elizabeth had held him and said, “General Zhou is becoming an obsession with you. Believe me, I want to get him as much as you do. I was his prisoner, but we don’t even know where he is. He’s probably back in China where we can’t reach him. We can’t let him destroy us.”

“I know that, but…”

She had pulled away and sat up, wrapping a sheet around her naked body. “I feel so bad. It’s all my fault that Zhou got away. If I hadn’t been so stupid and let myself get caught…”

“That’s not fair. You can’t blame yourself.”

But he knew she did. And he did as well. She should have been suspicious that they were trying to trap her in Paris.

He wouldn’t tell her that. He didn’t want to hurt her. So instead he said, “I’ll try to move on.”

But he knew it was futile. As time passed, it would be more difficult to get at General Zhou. He needed something damn soon.

Finally, this morning, he caught a break. When Craig had ridden in the back of the car with Androshka, taking her to the exchange for Elizabeth in Gibraltar, he had secretly slipped a tiny, but powerful tracking device into her bag. He had enlisted the aid of his friend Betty Richards at the CIA in Langley to use American satellites to pinpoint Androshka’s location. No doubt she was with General Zhou. But that had taken time because Norris, the CIA Director, despised Craig. So Betty had to work surreptitiously. For several days, General Zhou and Androshka had been on the move, undoubtedly to give the slip to anyone trying to pursue. This morning Betty called on an encrypted phone with precise coordinates. General Zhou was in Bali. Craig now had his exact location.

That left Craig with a dilemma: how to get at General Zhou in Bali? While Craig’s title was impressive: Director of the EU Counterterrorism Agency, the reality was he had no legal authority to seek extradition. Nor did he have any military or security personnel at his disposal. Quite the opposite, the EU resolution creating his office specifically provided that he was dependent upon member nations for legal and military support. That wasn’t surprising. The EU member nations, particularly Germany and France, had a strong prejudice against relinquishing any of their sovereignty.

Now that he had General Zhou’s location, if Craig built an ironclad case against the Chinese General, he could take his evidence to Spanish President Zahara. Craig was confident that Zahara would authorize the Spanish Justice Minister to seek General Zhou’s extradition from the Indonesian government. Then the Spanish government could try him for the murder of the Spanish people who died on the Easter morning attack in Southern Spain. The prosecutor’s theory would be simple: General Zhou wasn’t there with a gun. But he was the mastermind. In legal terms, a co-conspirator.

The idea was a good one, Craig was convinced. But how to build the case?

The Spanish government had directed and was holding in prison the remnants of Musa Ben Abdil’s army, which had surrendered at the Alhambra. Craig could interrogate them to determine whether any of them had seen or heard General Zhou involved in planning the attack. Craig was convinced that would be futile. At the time of the Alhambra surrender, Craig had spoken informally to a number of Musa’s troops. He was convinced that other than Omar, who was dead, none of them had knowledge of the planning of the operation.

A better possibility, Craig decided, was Elizabeth. When she had been captured and taken to Musa Ben Abdil’s house in Marbella, she had heard conversations between General Zhou and Musa. Her testimony might be enough to persuade the Spanish Justice Minister to seek extradition. Even to obtain a conviction of General Zhou.

Buzzing on the intercom brought Craig back to reality. His secretary said, “Time for you to leave for lunch with Elizabeth.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. He had totally forgotten that she had called an hour ago and said, “I have good news. I’m buying lunch.”

Craig stood up and headed toward the door. It was a gorgeous spring day in Paris. He would have preferred to walk, but he’d never make it in time from his office in La Defense to the excellent little restaurant, Arome, off the Rue St. Honore, close to Avenue Franklin Roosevelt. They both liked it and the restaurant was equidistant between his office and hers at the International Herald, where she worked as a reporter. So he took a couple of gulps of outdoor air and climbed into the back of his waiting car. When he entered the restaurant, he saw Elizabeth seated at a corner table, looking radiant, dressed in a simple Chloe sheath. Though they never drank at lunch, she was sipping champagne. After he kissed her, she signaled the waiter who brought a glass for him.

“Guess what happened?”

“I’ll bet it has to do with your book.”

“Correct.”

“The publisher has no more revisions to the first part?”

“We’re not there yet. However,” she was dropping the words like pearls, “I received an email from Harold, my agent in New York. He sold French rights for 200,000 euros and they love my title: ‘Heads in the Sand: Europe Ignores Islamic Threat.’”

He whistled. “Wow. What great news. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re definitely paying for lunch. Even though you know where I think their heads are.”

“Very funny.”

They had a wonderful lunch with Elizabeth talking about some of the things she’d do with the money. She wanted to finance a long overdue vacation for them. Renovate the apartment. Send money to her father in New York. As she talked, sounding excited, Craig tried to be fully engaged with her. But he was only half there. Despite his best efforts, he could never block General Zhou from his mind.

He didn’t want to spoil her celebration, but he had to tell her about what he had learned from Betty this morning.

He waited until they were sipping espresso. Then he decided to wade in, “I was thinking,” he said.

“Here you go again about General Zhou.”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Your face gets a certain expression and your voice has an edge.”

She was frowning. She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If only…”

Craig interrupted. “You can forget about all that. We now have a way of catching Zhou and making him pay for what he did in Spain. And to Francesca.” Craig sounded excited.

“What happened?”

“Betty came through. I have a precise location in Bali for Zhou and Androshka. All we have to do is build the case against him, take it to the Spanish Prime Minister, and have him seek extradition from the Indonesia government. In Spain, General Zhou will stand trial for conspiracy and murder for the death of all the Spaniards who died in Musa Ben Abdil’s war in Southern Spain.”

Elizabeth wrinkled up her nose. He recognized that as a good sign. It meant she was willing to help him, rather than telling him to forget Zhou. She, too, must believe they now had a chance.

“How do you intend to build your case?” she asked.

“By using you as a witness to implicate Zhou in planning the attack on Southern Spain.”

“But what can I testify?”

“You overheard conversations between Zhou and Musa Ben Abdil. Didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “It won’t fly. Nothing I heard directly involves Zhou in the attack.”

“You were with me in Morocco when we saw Chinese instructors training Musa Ben Abdil’s troops.”

“Correct. But we don’t have evidence General Zhou sent them.”

Craig’s spirits sagged. “You know how to deflate a boy’s balloon.”

“Look, I’m happy to give it a try. Just the fact that Zhou was in the house with Musa Ben Abdil and that he held me as a captive until you worked out the exchange for Androshka may be enough to build a case that he was co-conspirator.”

“Good. Let’s do it.”

She held up her hand. “Whoa boy, there might be another way.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the status of General Alvarez, the former Spanish Defense Minister?”

“Carlos called yesterday from Madrid. Carlos was formally appointed Defense Minister. He’s no longer Acting Minister. I asked him about Alvarez. He said the Argentine government approved Spain’s extradition request. Spanish agents were in Buenos Aires to fly him back to Madrid. He should be arriving later today.”

“What are they charging him with?”

“That he gave the order to move Spanish troops from the south to the north right before the attack. And he received a large amount of money for doing it. That makes him a co-conspirator. He could be charged with the murder of all the people who died.” Craig was warming to her suggestion. “We don’t know how directly Alvarez was involved with General Zhou. If he was, then Alvarez’s testimony could give us what we need to build the case against General Zhou.”

“Alvarez hates you. Persuading him to tell you about General Zhou’s involvement won’t be easy.”

Craig finished his espresso while thinking about what she had said. “I’m sure Carlos will give me the freedom I need to interrogate Alvarez. With that I’ll make him cough up enough of the story.”

“I’m glad I’m not Alvarez.”

Craig barely heard what she had said. He was planning logistics in his mind. “I’ll call Carlos and set it up. You want to fly to Madrid with me this afternoon?”

“You’re damn right. I have my own score to settle with those bastards who locked me up in the dungeon in Marbella, planning to rape and kill me.”