and the natural balance remains. How many sites did this video go up on?”
“Six that we found.” This from Dominic.
“Well, there’re plenty of Internet service outfits around, but the groups that run those sites usually do the hosting themselves, with a dedicated server so they can pick up and move—physically and electronically. If the URC farmed out the killing, then you’re probably out of luck; if they did it themselves, it means the message came from high up the ladder. The kind of job you don’t leave to chance. If that’s the case, then there’s going to be some overlap—some local URC captain in touch with one of the mobile hosts.”
“I take it this ain’t something you look up in the yellow pages,” Brian said.
“You take it correctly. I may know a man. Let me make some calls. Where are you staying?”
“The Al Mehari.”
Archie checked his watch. “I’ll meet you there by five; we’ll have a drink.”
He was an hour early and came with his own car, a mid-’80s forest-green Opel; as was almost everything else in Tripoli, the car was covered in a fine layer of red-brown dust.
“You have a rental car?” Archie asked as they pulled west onto Al Fat’h Street amid a cacophony of horns and squealing of brakes.
“Whoa!” Brian shouted from the backseat.
“Traffic laws here are nonexistent. Call it Darwinism at its most basic. Driver survival of the fittest. So: the rental car?”
“No, we don’t have one.”
“Once we’re done, you can drop me back at the embassy and use this. Mind that second gear, though. It’s wonky.”
“Just as long as you don’t expect it back in one piece.”
“This is rush hour. It’ll quiet down in another couple hours.”
Tripoli’s modern-day walled and labyrinthian Medina was born during Ottoman occupation and had served for centuries as much as a deterrent to invaders as it did a center of commerce. Situated beside the harbor and bordered on four sides by Al Kurnish Road, Al Fat’h Street, Sidi Omran Street, and Al Ma’arri Street, the Medina was a warren of narrow streets, blind, winding alleys, arched walkways, and small courtyards.
Archie found a parking spot near the Bab Hawara gate, along the southeastern wall, and they got out and walked two blocks south to a café. A man in black slacks and a tan short-sleeved shirt stood up from his table as Archie approached. They shook hands, embraced, and Archie introduced Brian and Dominic as “old friends.”
“This is Ghazi,” Archie said. “You can trust him.”
“Sit, please,” Ghazi said, and they settled at the table beneath the umbrella. A waiter appeared, and Ghazi fired off something in Arabic. The waiter left and reappeared a minute later with a pot, four small glasses, and a bowl of mints. Once tea was poured, Ghazi said, “Archie tells me you have an interest in websites.”
“Among other things,” Dominic said.
“There are many men who provide the services Archie mentioned, but one in particular might be worth your time. His name is Rafiq Bari. The day after that Web video went up and a day before that man’s body was discovered, he moved his business—quite suddenly and during the night.”
“Is that all?” Brian said.
“No. There are rumors that he’s done work for certain people. Websites that appear and disappear—proxy servers, redirects, rotating domain names, all of that. That’s Bari’s specialty.”
“How about ISPs?” Dominic said, referring to Internet service providers. “Any chance these people are creating their own rather than using commercial companies?”
Archie answered this one. “Too much hassle, I expect. There’s not a lot of oversight with that sort of thing here. A name and a credit card number is all it takes. Domain names can be registered in bulk and changed at the drop of a hat. No, the way this Bari fella does it is the way to go, at least here.”
Dominic said to Ghazi, “Who’s he living with? Any family?”
“Not here. A wife and daughter in Benghazi.”
“What’re the chances he’s going to be armed?”
“Bari himself? Very unlikely, I would think. When he moves about, he sometimes has protection.”
“URC?”
“No, no, not directly, I do not believe. Perhaps hired by them, perhaps, but these are just Medina people. Thugs.”
“How many?” This from Brian.
“The times I have seen him . . . Two or three.”
“Where do we find him?” said Brian.
By the time they dropped Archie back at the consulate, the sun’s lower rim was nearly touching the sea’s surface to the west. All across the city, streetlamps, car headlights, and neon signs were flickering to life.