HEADQUARTERS
1ER REGIMENT DE PARACHUTISTES D'INFANTERIE DE MARINE
(FRENCH ARMY'S 1ST MARINE INFANTRY PARACHUTE REGIMENT)
BAYONNE,
FRANCE
JANUARY 13, 2002
1822 HOURS
"Get me Sergent-Chef Didier. Don't call him. Bring him here! Vite!" Major Le Mesieur held his hand over the phone as he turned to his guest. "Continue, my friend. We are launching in three hours. Does anyone know of you making this journey or do I ensure we don't log an extra passenger on the flight?"
"No logs. No records, Cyrano. I am just deadheading to ensure that a certain package of ours is safe." Christopher stood up and gestured to the door. "When you're finished, we should grab some fresh air."
"Of course. Didier will be here in a few minutes." He reached for his beret emblazoned with the badge of the élite French Special Forces regiment. "Then we can go to my quarters. You will need one of my uniforms to ensure you blend in with our UNFIL reinforcements. Your French is passable enough so no one should bother you."
**
A discreet knock on the door announced the pilot's arrival.
"Come in, Didier. You know Colonel Nobriega from Opération Héracles. He will be accompanying you on your relief flight to Lebanon. There are to be no records and you are to forget the Colonel existed, unless he requests your help. Understood?"
The short, wiry pilot smiled as he shook Christopher's hand. "You look cleaner since the last time I saw you with your friends of the sand colored berets." He used the oblique reference to Britain's Special Air Service, the grandfather of all Special Forces. "Any preference on the location where I drop you off, mon colonel? I assume you do not want to be on the plane when I land since you will have to be registered with UNFIL and they do not look kindly on unregistered guests." His face broke into a grin.
"South of Beirut would be fine. Anytime before dawn. Low opening, Didier."
"It will be done. Is there anything else I need to know otherwise I will begin our preparations with your permission, gentlemen." The Sergent-Chef executed a perfect salute and about-turned.
**
Outside the administrative buildings, both men strolled over to the small garden facing the Pyrenees. "What is the problem, Christopher? What has happened?"
"The message was signed Hud, Cyrano." Christopher placed a boot on a stone bench and stretched his quads as he answered.
"Isn't that an American movie with Paul Newman?"
"Yes. But it's also the name or a Quranic Prophet of Doom. I think the Old Testament calls him Eber. He warned of God's vengeance. It was the code word I gave Rahimi's parents in case of an emergency. Has Didier recovered from that incident in Afghanistan?"
Cyrano nodded. "The doctors have declared him both physically and mentally, but his soul?" He gave a Gallic shrug. "Only a soldier would understand that some nightmares never disappear. His wife has left him. He's in too many unstable relationships – how do you say? One night stands. Let's get you that uniform." He gestured to a footpath. "We'll take the scenic route. That will ensure no one overhears us."
"Why is this child so important, Christopher? Her mother is dead and the child is too young to know anything."
"The child isn't Rahima's. She is the child of an operative that we have in country on a mission. We made up the 'legend' that she was Rahima's to protect the child and her parents. Rahima went along with it. Even her parents don't know the true identity of the girl."
YOU ARE READING
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Adventure“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
