Gray Resurrection by Alan McDermott Read Free Book Online Page B

provide everything you need,”
Farrar promised.
    “Okay, see you tomorrow.”
    That's how it should be done, Farrar
thought:  No quibbling, no arguments, just get the instructions and be
ready to move.  If only Grant could be like that.  He ended the call
and gave the same instructions to Sonny Baines, who also readily agreed. 
It was a shame they had to die, but when you dance with the devil...
    His next call was to the office.
    “It's me.  I need you to track a
mobile phone,” he said and read out the number.  “It should be somewhere in
Mindanao.  I want an exact fix and constant updates on its movement.”
    With the wheels in motion he cranked the
air conditioning up a notch and jumped into the shower to prepare for what he
knew was going to be a long day.

 
    Chapter 4
     
    Monday 16th April
2012
     
     
    “What do you know about our brothers in
the Philippines?”
    That had been the simple question, and
Abdul Mansour had answered honestly: very little.
    It had been asked at a meeting just over
the Afghan border from his home in Pakistan and he had told them what he knew,
which was that Abu Sayyaf had had some notable successes in the past, including
the kidnapping for ransom of several foreign nationals, and of course the ferry
bombing in 2004 which had killed over a hundred people.  There had been other
minor incidents in recent years but nothing that had made international
headlines. Beyond that he knew little of their current strength or future
strategy, and said as much.
    “They are more concerned with internal
and regional feuds than striking out against their oppressors,” Azhar Al-Asiri
had told him. “They need some proper leadership in order to focus their
attention.”
    Al-Asiri had long been both Osama Bin
Laden’s deputy and the brains behind Al-Qaeda but had nowhere near the charisma
of the man he called the Sheikh.  He had been happy to let the Amir front
the organisation while secretly pulling the strings from behind the
scenes.  In fact, it was Al-Asiri who had suggested taking things to a
global level.  Bin Laden’s initial fight had been against the presence of
American soldiers on Saudi soil, but it was Al-Asiri who had planted the idea
of aiding fellow Muslims in their grievances, wherever they may be.  There
had been financial support for Abu Sayyaf in the early days but that had dried up
as their hierarchy had fragmented, splintering into separate groups.
    “Our aim is to unify these pockets of
resistance once more and turn them into a formidable ally, but we cannot do
that with money and weapons alone.  I would like you to go there and do
for them what you have done for me here.
    “You will take them the weapons they
need and show them how to use them.  More importantly, you must get them
to launch attacks against our enemies as soon as possible.”
    Mansour hadn’t questioned the need for
an immediate strike.  He’d simply accepted the mission without hesitation,
honoured to have been chosen for such a task.
    “You will not have long,” Al-Asiri told
him.  “You will leave in seven days and I need you to return before the
middle of May.  I have a major offensive in mind and I want you to take
part in the planning.”
    Following Bin Laden’s death the previous
year Al-Asiri, in his early fifties, had taken over the reins, as had been
widely anticipated by the western world.  However, they were quick to
dismiss him as a lamb to Bin Laden’s lion, a sparrow to his eagle, and it
pleased him that they had written him off so readily.  So far he had done
what his detractors had expected, which had been nothing whatsoever. 
    At least, so they thought.
    His focus had been on building up an
army of generals, men who would go into the world and train others so that one
day they could launch a co-ordinated attack that would leave the infidels
trembling at the mention of his name.
    One such general was Abdul Mansour,
whose rise through the ranks had been meteoric.