by David Archer
“Allah be praised, Chidi, I would love to be there, but this is a time for the political minds to be wary. You don’t need an old revolutionary, even a quiet one like me, to cast the hint of treachery over this day. Make your announcement, and let the world see men of words acting to make this a peaceful transition, rather than a violent one. We have accomplished this marvel without resorting to the tactics of the jihadists, without resorting to any kind of violence. Bask in the glory, old friend.”
Chidi bowed his head respectfully. “As you wish, then,” he said. “We must be going. It is a long walk back to the car, and then another hour to my office.” He got to his feet and clasped his hands around one of the old man’s. “Thank you, Mourad, for all that you have done to help us bring this to be.”
He turned and walked out, as Oni made his own respects to the old man. Once Chidi was out of the room and far enough away, Benyamina looked him in the eye. “Does he suspect anything?”
“No, Sahib. I have taken great care to be sure, and always show him only how concerned I am for his safety. He will take us to independence, and then our new nation will mourn his loss. As a martyr, he will live forever in the hearts and minds of our people and keep them from ever bowing the knee to Algiers again.”
“Yes, but without his sacrifice, they may not last through the troubles to come. Men will fight for freedom until their children begin to cry from hunger, and then they will begin to wonder whether they were better off under the old regime.” He smiled, but there was a sadness in it. “Everything is arranged?”
“Yes. It will happen on the eighth day from today. Belkacem will make his strongest move against us at that time, and we will need a martyr. Chidi is so beloved by the people that his death will rally them when we will need the momentum the most.”
“Go, then,” Benyamina said. “Don’t let him wonder what we are talking about. And remember, Oni, you must take your place to lead us once he is gone. Do not shirk the duty that has fallen to you.”
“I will do as I must, Sahib,” Oni said, and then he left the room quickly to catch up with his oldest friend.
“Was Mourad berating you again over his daughter?” Chidi asked with a smile, as Oni took his place beside him. “You know, she isn’t all that ugly. Perhaps a wife would be good for you.”
Oni made a face. “She looks like a camel,” he said, “and she spits like one. Besides, I have never considered marriage for political gain to be worth the sacrifices it entails. If I ever marry, it will be to a woman who only wants a man to keep her comfortable, and doesn’t expect romance. So much simpler that way.”
Chidi laughed. They talked of simpler things through the rest of the long walk back to where they had left the car, and then Oni drove them back into Tindouf.
The office of the provincial governor was nothing special. It was housed in the only government building in the entire city, on the third floor overlooking the market area. Chidi spoke with his secretary when they arrived, taking the slips of paper that told him who had called while he was gone. None of them were relevant to the events that were about to unfold, so he set them aside when he got back to his desk.
Oni went to the cabinet near the side wall and began setting up the video camera. Arrangements had been made for the broadcast of the announcement of secession, and all they had to do was connect the camera to the computer that would transmit the video signal to all the major news organizations in the world. BBC, CNN, Pravda, EuroNews, Al Jazeera and more would receive it live, and it was expected that most of them would turn it into a major story. After all, it wasn’t every day that a large nation split.
It took him only a few moments to get everything set up, and then he called to confirm that the connection was working. The local TV station would be the intermediary, and would broadcast a short warning to all of the agencies that a major announcement was coming. It was possible that many of them would simply stream it live to all of their affiliates.
At ten minutes to four, the warning went out. At exactly four o’clock, Oni activated the camera, which was focused on Chidi Abimbola.
“Greetings to the world,” Chidi said. “I am Chidi Abimbola, governor of Tindouf province in Algeria. I come before the world today to announce the secession of West Algeria from its mother country.”
On the video screen Oni was monitoring, a map appeared that showed the newly proposed border between Algeria and West Algeria.
“The map you are seeing shows the border between our two countries. The people of West Algeria have been forced to take this unprecedented action because of the excesses and neglect of the government of Algeria. Our resources have been plundered to enrich the rest of the country while we struggle in poverty, and our pleas for aid and assistance to help us care for our people have fallen on deaf ears in the capital of Algiers. This is why, after careful consideration that has gone on for many years, we have approached some of our neighbor countries for recognition and alliance, and we hereby declare our independence from Algeria. We expect the next few weeks to be full of challenge and surprise, but we are prepared to stand firm in this decision. We welcome opportunities for cooperation with all nations, and will pledge ourselves to successfully integrating our new nation into the councils of the world. Thank you.”
Oni cut off the camera and smiled. “The press releases are already going out,” he said. “They include the minutes of the meeting of the West Algeria Formation Council, naming you as interim president. I would imagine that your phone is about to…”
He was cut off, as the phone on Chidi’s desk rang suddenly, with all of its lines lit up.
Chapter ONE
“I thought we might get the boat out,” Noah said. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, we could invite Neil and Jenny, and Marco and Renée. Just spend the day out on the lake. What would you think?”
Sarah sat down at the table across from him and smiled. “After this last winter? I am ready for some sun, trust me. Will it be warm enough for sunbathing?”
“It’s supposed to get up to eighty by eleven,” Noah replied. “You girls could soak up the rays while us guys do some fishing. Sound all right?”
“It sounds wonderful. Give me a few minutes to finish my coffee and I’ll call them all. We can pack up some sandwiches and stuff, for lunch out on the lake.”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” Noah said. He took a sip of his own coffee and was about to add something else when his phone rang. He glanced at it and saw that it was Allison calling, then answered.
“Hello,” he said.
“Briefing,” she said, “conference room, ten a.m. I’ll notify everyone else.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Noah said. The line was dead before he finished, and he looked up at Sarah. “Looks like we have to postpone,” he said. “Mission briefing at ten.”
Sarah made a face that expressed her opinion of mission briefings that interfere with sunbathing. “And it was gonna be such a good day,” she said. “That sucks.”
“I agree,” Noah said, “but work has to come first. Besides, the weather might be even better by the time we get back. I want to get a shower before we go.” He got up and headed toward the bedroom, and Sarah followed a moment later.
Sarah had showered as soon as she got up, so she got dressed and put on her makeup while Noah finished up. They had actually slept in a bit, and it was already past nine. They left the house at nine thirty, which would give them plenty of time to make it to the briefing.
Neil hadn’t come home to his trailer the night before, but his Hummer was parked in the garage under the headquarters building, along with Marco’s latest hot rod, a 1970 Chevelle he had found a few weeks before on eBay. The car was covered in primer, a sure sign that it was on its way to being completely restored.
They rode the elevator up and stepped out to go to the conference room, and ran into Donald Jefferson, who served as second in command of the organization, helping to coordinate all of the intelligence and
data necessary for each mission. He was just coming out of his own office and smiled when he saw them.
“Noah,” he said. “Good to see you. Everything going okay?”
Noah nodded. “It’s been nice to have a few weeks off,” he said. “I gather that’s coming to an end, today.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I’ll let Allison brief you, of course, but you’re going to be headed for Africa in a couple of days. Hope you’re ready for the desert.”
“Can’t be worse than Afghanistan,” Noah said. The three of them walked together into the conference room, and Noah and Sarah helped themselves to the ever present donuts and coffee before they took their seats.
Marco and Neil were already there, but they were surprised to see Jenny. After a moment of passing greetings back and forth, they all turned their attention to Allison.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news this morning,” she began, “but there has been a major rift in Algeria. The entire province of Tindouf, along with portions of several other provinces, two hours ago declared themselves in secession from the rest of the country. They have formed a new country called West Algeria, and that they’ve already garnered some pretty powerful support from a number of other nations. Mauritania, Morocco, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Israel, and the EU have all recognized them as a sovereign nation, and Algeria and its own allies are in an uproar. President Belkacem is threatening military action, with Libya and Niger both offering support. The potential for war in that region is staggering at the moment, and with Algeria’s ties to Russia, this could become a major conflict within a matter of days.”
“I’d heard about it,” Noah said. “Their secession, I mean. I take it the U.S. wants to avoid the war?”
“Actually, the war is probably inevitable but we don’t think it will last that long. The problem for us is that West Algeria has some powerful strategic potential, and we need to establish diplomatic relations with the new interim government as quickly as possible. Our intelligence sources in the area, however, have uncovered a potential problem.” She pressed a button on the remote in her hand and a photograph appeared on the big, wall-mounted display screen. “This is Chidi Abimbola, the interim president of West Algeria. He was appointed by the West Algerian Formation Council to serve as president until they can hold public elections. He’s probably the best possible man for the job, because he was the provincial governor for the last fifteen years, and the people absolutely love him. He stood up to the Algerian government on numerous occasions, and managed to prevent a lot of problems. He even accomplished a lot for the Sahrawi refugees that have been living in their own communities around his province since the nineteen seventies, getting them medical care and making it possible for them to work more freely in the country. Those refugees now make up a large part of his population, and may well decide to become citizens. It’s the perfect time, from their perspective. They would come in as equals with everyone else, something they haven’t known in a long time.”
“Okay,” Noah said. “So far, this doesn’t sound all that bad. Where do we fit in?”
“American intelligence agents working in Algeria have uncovered a plot by the Formation Council to turn President Abimbola into a martyr. They’re planning to assassinate him, quite publicly, and blame it on the Algerian government. Their reasoning is actually fairly sound, since they believe the people will cave in to pressure and reunite with Algeria if the conflict actually breaks out. The Algerian military would do everything it could to cut off supply lines to the region, and the Council fears that the potential for famine would undermine everything they have accomplished. This could be true, and in fact, almost certainly will be. Right now, we are predicting a ninety-seven percent chance that West Algeria will fold within ninety days. They will return to provincial status within Algeria, but will get some very important concessions from the government there in exchange. By establishing diplomatic relations with them while they are temporarily separate, we can make inroads that will last after the reunification and give us the ability to counter a lot of Russian influence within the country.”
“So,” Marco said, “we don’t want the temporary president to get assassinated, right?”
Allison looked at Donald Jefferson. “That’s correct,” Jefferson said. “His martyrdom would make it almost impossible for the people to accept reunification on peaceful terms, no matter what concessions the Algerian government might offer. The conflict would last much longer than it needs to, and would lead to the possibility of involvement by major world powers, such as Russia, China, and the United States. What we need to do is stop the assassination from taking place, but that means that we have to remove some of the people involved in setting it up. That’s your mission.”
Allison leaned forward. “This mission is of major importance, because it will lead to the possibility of an even more significant alliance for the United States in northwestern Africa. Algeria is one of our allies in the war against terror, and was the first country to stand up for us after the attacks of 9/11. We maintain an air base in southern Algeria for drone flights, mostly surveillance flights to keep track of what Al Qaeda and ISIS operatives are doing. This opportunity to expand our relationship with Algeria could be critical as we work to bring an end to international terrorism that tends to originate from that region.”
She pressed another button on the remote and another face appeared on the screen. “This is Oni Zidane, Abimbola’s personal aide and best friend. Unfortunately, he is also a member of a very secret organization known as West Algeria Defense Initiative Revolution, or WADIR. This organization is the one behind the plot to assassinate Abimbola, and intelligence indicates that Oni is the prime actor. He has reportedly abducted an Algerian soldier who is loyal to the current government, and will allow him to be captured immediately after the assassination. That will make it appear that the Algerian president ordered the assassination, and will without doubt inflame the people against any possibility of reunification. It will also propel Oni Zidane into the interim presidency, a calculated move that WADIR considers the most emotional appeal they can make to the people. Chidi Abimbola and Oni Zidane have been close for so many years that many people believe there is a clandestine romantic relationship between the two of them. Because this would be considered an abomination from an Islamic point of view, the vast majority of the population considers it to be something of a joke and pretends not to have such thoughts about them.”
“What does our intelligence say?” Noah asked. “Are they actually lovers?”
“Not as far as we could tell,” Jefferson said. “Our intelligence sources have found no indication that the rumors have any substance, but it’s essentially immaterial to our purposes. Regardless of Chidi’s relationship with Oni, allowing him to be assassinated would be a disaster from an American political point of view. Your mission, therefore, is to eliminate Oni Zidane and other members of WADIR who might be able to complete his plans. To do so, you will go into West Algeria posing as part of a delegation the president is sending in to discuss the possibility of American diplomatic and military support for their independence. It is absolutely critical that there be no connection between your cover identities and the mission, however. If you are discovered or captured, the Secretary of State will have no choice but to disavow all knowledge and declare you impostors. There will be absolutely no possibility of rescue if that were to happen, not even from within our organization.”
“Noah?” Allison asked. “Are we clear on that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “If any of us are captured, it’s up to us to do whatever we can to affect a rescue, but without any support from the government or from E & E.”
The corners of Allison’s mouth twisted upward slightly. “That’s not exactly what we said,” she said.
“No, ma’am,” Noah said. “It’s the way I interpret it, however. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize American interests, but I do not leave anyone behind.”
Both Alliso
n and Donald Jefferson laughed. “As if we don’t know that about you,” Allison said. “This is what brings up Jenny’s presence. She will be accompanying you on this mission, because there may simply be more than you can handle alone, or even with Marco. Jenny’s own specialties in securing and eliminating her targets are likely to come in handy with some of these men, anyway.” She turned and looked at Jenny. “Cinderella, you are temporarily assigned to Team Camelot. You will be under Noah’s orders for the duration of this mission, and you are expected to obey them instantly and implicitly.”
Jenny was grinning from ear to ear as she clung to Neil’s hand. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “You won’t have any problems out of me.”
Jefferson turned to Noah. “Unfortunately, you don’t have a lot of time. The assassination is scheduled for just over a week from today, but we do not have any specific details as to where and how it will take place. That means you have to get in and eliminate your targets in plenty of time to keep that from happening at all.”
Noah nodded his head. “I understand. Will we have any kind of support in country?”
“We don’t have a station of our own there,” Allison said, “but there is a CIA station, and they’ll be ready to lend what support they can. Weapons, logistics, vehicles—you know the drill. What they do not have is any kind of support staff, unfortunately. There is no embassy there at this time, so the station is a clandestine one. You’ll have their contact information before you leave.”
“What about targets?” Noel asked. “Other than Oni, do we have other names?”
Jefferson nodded. “There are several,” he said. “Unfortunately, it’s very difficult to confirm which of them might be on the committee behind the assassination. We don’t have time to turn this into an investigatory mission, so you will have to eliminate all of them to be certain of getting the key players. Most of them are part of the Sahrawi Polisario Front, an organization of refugees from Western Sahara who opposed the occupation of part of its lands by Moroccan forces. The United States recognizes them as a legitimate rebel faction, so we don’t want to alienate them. The problem is that it’s highly doubtful that the leadership of the Polisario is even aware of the actions of the Formation Council and the secret committee planning the assassination of Abimbola. That makes it doubly imperative that you not be caught or discovered, because we could lose allies on many sides of the equation.”