The Black Widow (Gabriel Allon #16) - Daniel Silva Page 0,79
want the man who sent her there to be arrested by the British.”
Gabriel did not disagree with the minister, largely because he had been thinking the same thing for some time. And so late the following morning he journeyed across the channel to inform Graham Seymour, the chief of Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6, that the Office had been covertly watching a high-ranking ISIS operative living in the Bethnal Green section of East London. Seymour was predictably appalled, as was Amanda Wallace, the chief of MI5, who heard the same confession an hour later across the river at Thames House. For his penance, Gabriel was forced to make the British services nonvoting partners in his operations. All he needed now was the Americans, he thought, and the disaster would be complete.
The woman now known as Dr. Leila Hadawi was unaware of the interservice warfare raging around her. She tended to her patients at the clinic, she idled away her spare time at the café across the street from her apartment, she ventured occasionally into the center of Paris to shop or stroll. She no longer viewed extremist material on the Internet because she had been instructed not to. Nor did she ever discuss her political beliefs with friends or colleagues. Mainly, she spoke of her summer holiday, which she planned to spend in Greece with a friend from her university days. A packet containing her airline tickets and hotel accommodations arrived three days before she was due to depart. A travel agent in London named Farouk Ghazi handled the booking. Dr. Hadawi paid for nothing.
With the arrival of the packet, Gabriel and the rest of the team went on a war footing. They made travel accommodations of their own—in point of fact, King Saul Boulevard handled the arrangements for them—and by early the next morning the first operatives were moving quietly toward their failsafe points. Only Eli Lavon remained behind at Seraincourt with Gabriel, a decision he later came to regret because his old friend was distraught with worry. He watched over Natalie as a parent watches over an ailing child, looking for signs of distress, changes in mood and demeanor. If she was frightened, she gave no sign of it, even on the last night, when Gabriel spirited her into Paul Rousseau’s lair on the rue de Grenelle for a final briefing. When he gave her a last chance to change her mind, she only smiled. Then she composed a letter to her parents, to be delivered in the event of her death. Tellingly, Gabriel did not refuse to accept it. He placed it in a sealed envelope and placed the envelope in the breast pocket of his jacket. And there it would remain until the day she came out of Syria again.
ISIS supplied most of its European recruits with a detailed list of items to pack for their trip. Dr. Leila Hadawi was no ordinary recruit, however, and so she packed with deception in mind—summer dresses of the kind worn by promiscuous Europeans, revealing swimwear, erotic undergarments. In the morning she dressed piously, pinned her hijab carefully into place, and wheeled her suitcase through the quiet streets of the banlieue to the Aubervilliers RER station. The ride to Charles de Gaulle Airport was ten minutes in length. She glided through unusually heavy security and onto an Air France jet bound for Athens. On the other side of the aisle, dressed for the boardroom of a Fortune 500 company, was the small man with an elusive face. Smiling, Natalie peered out her window as France disappeared beneath her. She was not alone. Not yet.
As it happened, the day of Natalie’s departure was a particularly violent one in the Middle East, even by the region’s bloody standards. There were beheadings and burnings in Syria, a string of simultaneous suicide bombings in Baghdad, a Taliban raid in Kabul, a new round of fighting in Yemen, several stabbings in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and a gun-and-grenade attack on Western tourists at a beach hotel in Tunisia. So it was understandable that a relatively minor skirmish between Islamic militants and Jordanian police went largely unnoticed. The incident occurred at ten fifteen in the morning outside the village of Ramtha, located just a few yards from the Syrian border. The militants were four in number; all perished during the brief firefight. One of the militants was later identified as Nabil Awad, a twenty-four-year-old Jordanian citizen who resided in the Molenbeek district of Brussels.