Chapter 7: Coming up for Agadir

“In a week’s time Leilah and Dihya will be summoned before a religious court to face charges of blasphemy and immoral behaviour. If found guilty they will be publically flogged and then handed over to the Gendarmerie who will charge them with running a brothel and living off immoral earnings. I, as the landlord of the Hotel Mon Repos where these crimes are supposed to have occurred, will probably lose my Moroccan citizenship and will then be forced to sell the building, no doubt at a bargain basement price.” Maurice scowled into his glass of Rhone red. “I am not prepared to let any of that happen, which is why you and Bear are here...”

“But not Pierre Dubois, the other member of our reassignment team,” I said.

“He’s serving six months confinement in Baumettes. The husband of Dubois’s latest woman came home unexpectedly and took exception when seeing the pair in a coital love knot on the floor of his lounge. It seems the man had just paid a fortune for new carpeting. Unfortunately he tried to extract the cost of cleaning the carpet from Pierre, who naturally refused, and in the subsequent altercation the husband suffered a broken nose, jaw, femur, and several badly bruised ribs. Actually it’s just as well Pierre is not with us as his favoured method of reassignment will not do in this case.”

Maurice, Bear, and I were sitting in the opulent surroundings of the lounge bar of the Royal Maroc Hotel in Agadir. My journey from London to Agadir was something I don’t wish to remember, especially the passage from Tangier to Agadir along a road used as a race track by fatalistic drivers. The flight from London to Cadiz was OK but the ferry from Cadiz to Tangier belied any belief that the Mediterranean Sea is a calm and placid stretch of water.

Bear and I were staying in separate single rooms at the hotel. I had expected, and hoped, to be staying at the Hotel Mon Repos and enjoying the personal welcome Leilah and Dihya extended to the friends of ‘M’sieu Maurice’. When I asked Maurice why Bear and I were not slaying with him at the hotel he explained that he was under surveillance and didn’t want his watchers to know of Bear and my arrival or our connection to him.

“The Gendarmerie are watching you?” I asked.

“No, people working for Mullah Mohamed El Mahidi Medina, the man behind the plot to discredit Leilah and Dihya and have them punished for crimes they have not committed. His chief witness in this farrago of lies, the one who will swear on the Holy Quran that girls are being prostituted at Mon Repos, is a regular customer and at first I thought i could come to some arrangement with him, but it seems he is hell bent on perjuring himself and convicting the girls, which is why he must be reassigned.”

“I think you should start from the beginning, Maurice, so that Bear can be brought up to speed as to what is happening here.”

“Good idea, Philippe,” he said, and launched into the tale.

Morocco is an Islamic country and like other Islamic countries the religion has a much greater influence and impact on all aspects of the lives of its inhabitants than religious movements have in Europe or USA. The predominant branch of Islam in Morocco is Sunni but within this general label are those who support the idea of having an Islamic Republics like Iran, although that state is predominantly Shia. As Morocco is a Kingdom these radicals are looked on with some concern by the governing elite but as Iran becomes more bellicose and belligerent towards the so called Shayāṭīn (devils) of the USA and the West the radicals are gaining support. A year ago a new Mullah was appointed to the Bir Anzarane mosque, an important site in Moroccan Islam as Sidi Ibn Mustapha, a famous teacher and preacher, had been the Imam there for many years. The new Mullah was Mohamed El Mahidi Medina, a young, ambitious, radical whose goal is to sit on the Grand Council of Morocco, the body of clerics who ‘advise’ the King. The Council is not part of the democratically elected government but more of a ‘Think Tank’ that can, and does, shape the policies, economic and diplomatic, of the country. The power and influence of the Grand Council is slowly but inexorably being amassed by the radicals on the Council and Mullah Medina plans to be part of the takeover. He needs to make a name as a zealous Muslim before being elevated to the Council and the best way for that is to bring to justice those who do not obey Islamic Law. Mullah Medina is partnered in this ‘crusade’ or, as Medina is a Muslim this ‘Jihad’, by the Commandant of the Agadir Gendarmerie and they have targeted Hotel Mon Repos. The building is owned by a man who is a not only a non Moslem but is also French, the former colonial rulers, and the hotel is successfully run by two females. Women in Moroccan society, though not so constrained and restricted as in Saudi Arabia, Iran, or Afghanistan, are not encouraged to have a life or a living outside of marriage, or a kitchen.

The prime witness for the prosecution is Aziz Ben Mahmood. His evidence, false evidence, will be given under Islamic law and sworn on the Quran when kissing the holy book. However, Maurice discovered the reason why Aziz Ben Mahmood, who he considered a friend, is prepared to commit perjury. Aziz Ben Mahmood has pancreatic cancer and has only six months to live. He also has a son who was discovered in flagrante delicto with another male. Maurice learned from reliable sources that Aziz Ben Mahmood has been promised his son’s offence, which merits the death penalty, will be dismissed and that he, Aziz, will have, according to Mullah Mohamed El Mahidi Medina, direct passage to Paradise if he swears that the two females who run the hotel have been operating a brothel. There are other witnesses who will give testimony that throws a bad light on the girls but Aziz Ben Mahmood’s testimony is paramount.

“Obviously he cannot be allowed to give his evidence and I have wracked my brains as to how we can reassign him before he appears before the court.” Maurice said after giving the background as to why Bear and I were in Agadir.

“‘How we can kill him’, Maurice, this is not legion business so we can dispense with political syntax,” I said, rather pompously I will admit.

“Point taken, Philippe, but whatever we call the action it is going to take some figuring out how to achieve our aim. Because I am known to be a former legionnaire, and knowing how the legion deals with problems, Mahmood is under the protection of the Gendarmerie. His house is guarded and when going about he has a police escort. Although there are people in high places who are aghast at what is being planned by the Mullah they will not countenance deaths or injuries to Moroccans in any attack on Aziz Ben Mahmood, which is one reason I’m glad that Pierre Dubois is not with us. He would have gone in with guns blazing and to hell with the consequences. I need you two to think of how we are to accomplish reassigning – I mean assassinating – Aziz Ben Mahmood without causing what our American friends call collateral damage.”

“Where will the trial be held?” Asked Bear.

“It is not a trial per se but an examination of persons suspected of blasphemous and immoral behaviour, and will be conducted by a panel made up of Imams and Mullahs in the Meeting Hall of the mosque.”

“What’s the difference between an Imam and a Mullah?” asked Bear. It was a question I had wanted to ask but didn’t like to show my ignorance.

“In practise very little,” replied Maurice. “Both are titles given to a leader of a mosque and/ or have an intimate and far reaching knowledge of Islamic Law and the Holy Quran. Generally speaking in Morocco the leader of a mosque is known as a Imam but Mullah Mohamed El Mahidi Medina obviously wants his name to stand out above his peers and the use of alliteration gives him some notoriety, which will be greatly enhanced if he succeeds in getting the two girls convicted of blasphemy and immoral behaviour.

“Will we get a chance to we look around the Meeting Hall and see where things are?” said Bear.

“I will get a floor plan of the place. There is no permanent seating in the hall and I would imagine temporary seating, probably benches, will be erected to take the numbers of spectators expected. The Examination Panel will be located on a raised dais at one end of the hall and the witness stand will face them.”

“What about the accused. Where will Leilah and Dihya sit?” I asked.

“They will not be in the hall when witnesses are giving evidence They are brought in after all the evidence is given and will then be questioned, or rather interrogated, by Mullah Mohamed El Mahidi Medina.”

“Do they have anyone speaking on their behalf? “ I asked.

“Those called before an Examination Panel can ask an Imam or someone with some knowledge of Islamic law if they would be prepared to speak in their defence otherwise a ‘defence’ Imam is supplied by the panel...”

“And have Leilah and Dihya an Imam to...?”

Maurice interrupted me as I had him. “No, but I have friends who are supplying a young man, Tariq El Sharif, who graduated top of his year from the University of al-Qarawiyyin in Fez. He has been given the honorific title Imam as he is a teacher of Islamic law.”

“If we assassinate the witness before he gives his evidence then there will be no need of Tariq El Sharif,” Bear announced.

“That’s true Bear. Aziz Ben Mahmood will perjure himself, and how ever good Tariq El Sharif is at defending Leilah and Dihya evidence sworn on the Quran will be the clincher. We have to kill him...”

“But the only chance we have will be in the Meeting Hall. Is there any possibility of a killing sniper shot when Aziz Ben Mahmood is at the witness stand?” I said.

“The problem is the windows in the building are small and set high up in the walls,” Maurice said. “I have surveyed the area around the hall but there is no suitable position to give a shooter sight of the witness stand through the windows.”

“Well, in that case we need to get inside the hall and look for somewhere to plant a bomb; it is going to be the only way...”

“But with no collateral damage.” Maurice reminded and interrupted me.

“Yes, it will need to be a small device; up close and per...” I paused, and then the solution hit me. “Kissing the Quran ... of course!”

Bear and Maurice stared at me in surprise. “What’s ‘kissing the Quran’?” asked Maurice.

I laughed out loud. “It has to be a Bomb in a Book job!”

Maurice gave a wide smile of approval. “Of course. When Aziz Ben Mahmood swears his evidence is true he bends to kiss the Quran and boom! Good. We have the means now all we have to do is devise a method. How do we detonate the charge? We can’t use a timer for several reasons; one being is the Quran to be used at the Examination large enough to conceal an explosive charge and a timer?”

“Yes, it is imperative we find out the size of the Quran to be used and then obtain a replica and remove some of the centre pages. This will create a small space for the explosive so we need something with plenty of bang for our buck.” I thought for a moment or two. “Semtex. Can you get some, Maurice?”

“I know someone who can,” he said.

“Try and get genuine Czechoslovakian made Semtex. Any forensic investigation will have the authorities looking east even if they may suspect the perpetrators are nearer home.”

“Good thinking, Philippe, but we have to find out other details concerning the Quran that’s to be used in the Examination. Who owns it, when is it placed on the witness stand and by whom, but most importantly how do we substitute an exploding Quran for an inert one?”

I had another thought. “And how do we detonate the Semtex?”

Bear, who had been silent while Maurice and I had been busily talking and interrupting each other, now joined the conversation.

“We use an electrical blasting cap. I reckon a number eight would be the best and I have a car door locking/unlocking device that will remotely supply the vital electrical charge.”

“You are able to fire the charge remotely and don’t need a dynamo exploder or...?”

“That equipment went out with the Ark, Professor. Remote controllers are the new thing and Renault’s remote car door locking/unlocking device for their Fuego model is perfect for the job, providing there’s no more than ten metres between the explosive and the remote controller.”

I looked at Maurice. “We definitely need a floor plan of the Meeting Hall so we can work out distances –.” Another thought then struck me. “Who of us is going to be there in the hall to press the remote? And will there be anyone other than the Panel, the accused, and the witnesses?”

“I will be there as an interested party as, according to the Mullah, I am the owner of the building being used as a brothel. There will be about two hundred spectators including the Moroccan press, TV, and radio. I would I think there will be some students of Islamic law and the like. Any European wishing to view the proceedings would probably be permitted but probably not encouraged.”

“We also need to know how far from the witness stand is the nearest spectator, and when we do one of us will need to be that spectator.” I said.

Maurice nodded. “Yes, there are lot of moving parts to have working in unison to achieve success, but first and foremost is to ascertain the Quran that will be used at the Examination.” He thought for a moment. “I know someone who might be able to answer that question. Anyway we have the beginnings of a plan and I’m feeling better about the outcome but remember I am under surveillance and the Royal Maroc is probably the only place where we can meet without being under observation. I can always lose my shadows as they are not professionals, but the Mullah can call on anyone and ask them if they have seen me.” He nodded towards the barman. “I know that Ali worships at Mullah Mohamed El Mahdi Medina’s mosque and could well pass on titbits of information he hears over the bar...”

“I thought Moslems were forbidden alcohol,” Bear said.

“Forbidden to drink it but not to sell it and many a good Muslim takes a dram or two. I don’t know if confessing sins is part of Islam; perhaps they salve their guilty consciences by giving alms to the poor or funding something mosque related.”

It was only now, after we had been huddled together working out our plans, that I sat back and gazed about me. I saw many of the people in the lounge bar were wearing some sort of identifying badge hanging on a lanyard around their neck.

“What’s all that?” I asked Maurice and pointed to the people.

“They must be delegates to the symposium taking place at the University of Agadir concerning Morocco’s interest in joining OTAN/NATO, aka the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation...”

“But Morocco is in Africa!”

“Agreed, and Turkey is in Asia and nowhere near the North Atlantic but is a member of OTAN/NATO. At least Morocco has the Atlantic washing its shores rather than the Black Sea and the Mediterranean! As you probably know there are two Spanish enclaves in Morocco, Ceuta and Melilla, which are considered part of Spain by the Spanish and occupied territory by Moroccans.” Maurice gave a wry smile. “The Spanish rail at Britain for their possession of Gibraltar but ignore their own occupation of parts of Morocco. Is it a case of the pot calling the kettle black or just plain hypocrisy? But getting back to Morocco’s intention of becoming a member of NATO. They know that if they took the two enclaves by force it would be viewed by Spain as an attack on their sovereignty and would call on their NATO allies to come to their aid. Of course when Britain’s territory of the Falklands Islands were invaded by Argentina, NATO did not assist the UK, and in fact France supplied aircraft and missiles to the Argentinians...”

“That’s all very interesting, Maurice, but does the fact there is a symposium taking place in Agadir help our plan?”

“It could well do so, Philippe. Delegates to the symposium are being given the full welcome treatment, with tours of Moroccan military and manufacturing facilities, plus visits to cultural and historical sites and centre of learning, etc. Delegates would certainly be allowed access to the Meeting Hall...”

The centime dropped. “And we three, or at least Bear and I, could be those delegates?” I said.

“Precisely. I will ask my friends in high places to have you and Mathieu accredited as delegates to the symposium and request a visit the Meeting Hall.”

“It’s extremely helpful that you have friends in high places, Maurice.”

“Sometimes it is even more helpful to have friends in low places, Philippe.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Low places?”

“The kitchen of Mullah Mohamed El Mahidi Medina to be more precise. Young Omar Slaoui is a trainee chef in the kitchen of the Mullah but before that he was learning the trade at Mon Repos. Leilah’s husband Hassan, who is a highly rated chef, saw that the boy had talent and was supervising Omar’s training. However a year ago Mullah Mohamed El Mahidi Medina arrived on the scene. Omar’s father is a minor functionary at the mosque and an adherent of the Mullah, he ordered Omar to leave the place of infidels and blasphemy and work instead for the Mullah. Omar being a dutiful son obeyed but with a heavy heart as he had formed a relationship with Ingrid, one of the young girls rescued from the streets and now working at Mon Repos.” Maurice saw my questioning look and grinned. “No, Ingrid does not provide intimate room service or at least not since she and Omar made a connection, not a sexual connection as yet as they are both young and innocent, well, Ingrid may not be as innocent as Omar but now rather than providing intimate room service she cleans and cooks and waits at table and helps Leilah in managing the hotel. In fact Leilah thinks given time and training Ingrid would be the right person to take over the management and Omar to take over the catering of the hotel when Leilah and Hassan decide to retire.”