The Secret Servant

could a citizen of a secular Islamic state or a Muslim residing in a Western democracy. To the takfiri , democracy was a heresy, for it supplanted the laws of God with the laws of man; therefore, Muslim citizens of a democracy were apostates and could be put to the sword. It was the concept of takfir that gave Osama bin Laden the right to fly airplanes into buildings or blow up embassies in Africa, even if many of his victims were Muslims. It gave the Sunni terrorists of Iraq the right to kill anyone they wanted in order to prevent democracy from taking root in Baghdad. And it gave Muslim boys born in Britain the right to blow themselves up on London subways and buses, even if some of the people they were taking to Paradise with them happened to be other Muslims who wished to remain on earth a little longer.
    “There is a leader of these young men,” Ibrahim resumed. “He has not been in Amsterdam long—eighteen months, maybe a bit more. He is an Egyptian. He works in an Internet shop and phone center in the Oud West, but he likes to think of himself as an Islamist theoretician and a journalist. He claims to be a writer for Islamist magazines and websites.”
    “His name?”
    “Samir al-Masri—at least that’s what he calls himself. He claims to have connections to the mujahideen in Iraq. He tells our boys it is their sacred duty to go there and kill the infidels who have defiled Muslim lands. He lectures them about takfir and jihad. At night they gather in his apartment and read Sayyid Qutb and Ibn Taymiyyah. They download videos from the Internet and watch infidels being beheaded. They have taken trips together. A few of them went to Egypt with him. There is talk about Samir in the al-Hijrah. There usually is talk in the mosque, but this is different. Samir al-Masri is a dangerous man. If he is not al-Qaeda, then he is a close relative.”
    “Where does he live?”
    “On the Hudsonstraat. Number thirty-seven. Apartment D.”
    “Alone?”
    Ibrahim tugged thoughtfully at his beard and nodded his head.
    “You told Solomon about Samir?”
    “Yes, many months ago.”
    “So why follow me tonight?”
    “Because two days ago Samir and four other young men from the al-Hijrah Mosque disappeared.”
    Gabriel stopped walking and looked at the Egyptian. “Where did they go?”
    “I’ve been asking around, but no one seems to know.”
    “Do you have the names of the other four men?”
    The Egyptian handed Gabriel a slip of paper. “Find them,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m afraid buildings are going to fall.”

6
     
    O UD W EST, A MSTERDAM
     
    I was really looking forward to that Thai food,” said Eli Lavon.
    “I’ll get you Thai food after we break into Samir’s apartment.”
    “Please tell me where you’re going to get me Thai food at three in the morning.”
    “I’m very resourceful.”
    Gabriel rubbed a porthole in the fogged windshield and peered out toward the entrance of the Hudsonstraat. Lavon looked down and tugged at the buttons of his overcoat.
    “We’re not supposed to use rental cars in operational situations unless they’re procured from clean sources.”
    “I know, Eli.”
    “We’re also not supposed to conduct break-ins and crash searches without proper backup or approval from King Saul Boulevard.”
    “Yes, I’ve heard that.”
    “You’re bending too many rules. That’s how mistakes happen. I was looking forward to spending the night at the Hotel Europa, not a Dutch holding cell.”
    “Please tell me where I’m supposed to get a clean car and proper backup at three o’clock in the morning in Amsterdam.”
    “So much for your resourcefulness.” Lavon stared gloomily out the window. “Look around, Gabriel. Have you ever seen so many satellite dishes?” He shook his head slowly. “They’re monuments to European naïveté. The Europeans thought they could take in millions of immigrants from the poorest regions of the Muslim world and turn them into good little social democrats in a single generation. And look at the results. For the most part the Muslims of Europe are ghettoized and seething with anger.”
    Trapped between two worlds, thought Gabriel. Not fully Arab. Not quite Dutch. Lost in the land of strangers.
    “This place has always been an incubator for violent ideologies,” Gabriel said. “Islamic extremism is just the latest virus to thrive in Europe’s nurturing environment.”
    Lavon nodded thoughtfully and blew into his hands. “You know, for a