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Authors: Andreas Norman,Ian Giles

Tags: #FICTION / Thrillers / General

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BOOK: Into a Raging Blaze
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New slide: a schematic picture of a figure split in half. One half was shaded in dark green.

“What we now know is that individuals connected to the Ahwa group live a kind of double life. On the one hand, they are members of the Brotherhood. On the other hand, they have another, secret loyalty to the network. There are even members of the circle who talk outwardly of democracy, of understanding between religions, and other things that liberal members want to hear, but who we know are part of the network, where they are open about their values. Several of those that can be said to belong to the Ahwa group work within the Brotherhood's missionary activities, which also gives them the opportunity to come into contact with young people and influence them. We have also identified individuals from the network who are active abroad—in Houston, London, Hamburg, and Leeds.”

“How many people are we actually talking about?” interrupted Hamrén.

“We're currently looking at around ten individuals in Egypt. Our people in London have also identified around a hundred people in the EU who are of interest. It's estimated that around the same number again are part of the group in North America, according to reports. But of course the network may have even more members, possibly as many as five or six hundred people, all with connections to the Ahwa group itself in Cairo. And in Sweden. We have, among other things, started from Akim Badawi. He's part of the periphery of the Ahwa group, but has a clear connection to some of its leaders. Presumably, he is important to their jihadist goals; we have discovered instances of transactions from foundations controlled by him to individuals in these circles.”

“These people are difficult to map,” Wilson filled in, “but we're seeing an increase in secret activity. They hold regular meetings.
We see them diverting money from the foundations in a way that worries us. There are similarities between what they're up to and the kind of attack planning that we saw before the bombing of the American embassy in Dar es Salaam, for example.”

The analyst waited for him to continue, but Wilson just leaned back. Hamrén, Bente saw, was taking notes feverishly.

“There are grounds to believe that this network is undergoing rapid radicalization.”

“Don't be shy. Don't say, ‘there are grounds to believe.' We
know
that's how it is,” Wilson growled. “It's just a matter of time. They want to destroy us.”

The analyst gave a strained smile and seemed to want to object to this, but kept his teeth gritted. “Yes. It's not unlikely.” He cleared his throat.

“But why now?” said Hamrén. “Jihadists have always hated the West.”

“Exactly. Good question. I was going to get to it.”

The analyst clicked to bring up a new slide. Enraged, screaming faces; a city by night: Tahrir Square, in the middle of the Egyptian revolution in February.

“We think that the revolution and the Western and EU responses to it have been triggers for a rapid radicalization of the Ahwa group. The revolution in Egypt in February was a turning point for everyone. The regime imploded, the old tyrant, Mubarak, disappeared and everyone, even the Brotherhood, saw their chance to form a new Egypt. We followed their activities closely during the spring and could see how the entire organization began an intensive effort to take pole position and regain the political power they had lost during the Mubarak years. The movement's leaders began to build political alliances with other, new politicians—liberal, pro-Western people. The more radical brothers were furious. They had also welcomed the revolution, but thought it would pave the way for an Islamic state, an Egyptian caliphate free of all Western influences. Many were also angry at the way in which the EU and the West quickly approached Egypt with requirements for democracy and
changes according to the Western model. The radical wing perceived this as a new form of Western imperialism and an attempt to colonize Egypt with non-Muslim values. We've followed conversations between some of these people. They speak about how their values as Muslims have been violated, that it's time to respond more forcefully.”

“Respond how?”

“We don't know. We have, however, seen clear indications that the network is playing host to activities, as of two years ago, that pose a threat to countries in the EU. Western countries—particularly northern Europe. We know that several of the individuals we are interested in gathered for a secret meeting in Cairo nine months ago. Akim Badawi was at that meeting. What we have found out is that they talked about trying to recruit followers at the Brotherhood's centers around Europe.”

He brought up an organizational chart.

“Here is a bit more detail about the methods used by the Ahwa group. Basically, they utilize the Brotherhood's resources. The Brotherhood's organization is simple but very effective. They have established offices in over one hundred locations around the world and have a presence in most Western capitals. Their most common branches are so-called Dawah centers—a combination of library, mosque, and classroom—entirely legitimate enterprises. Overall, it is an efficient system of logistics and communication on a global level. Several of these centers are used by the jihadist network to recruit novices. The Ahwa group also makes use of the Brotherhood's financial resources, foundations, and funds to finance its activities and, so we believe, to finance acts of terror carried out by other, more visible, groups. As I said, we're talking about a network living in secrecy within a parent organization. A parasitic growth.” The analyst looked at them, then said, “I think I'll stop there. Any questions?”

Everyone around the table sat in silence.

Wilson stood up. He lumbered to the screen and brought up a new slide—photographs of three Arab men. Two had large, uncut beards; one had a more groomed Newgate fringe.

“This man,” he said with voice that filled the room, and pointed at the man with the groomed beard, “is Akim Badawi. He is our primary target. He is the one we believe is instructing Jamal Badawi, your civil servant. He's the one who gave the order to Jamal to recruit a Swedish diplomat and gain access to a particular report.”

He stopped.

“These people are smart. They understand how to undermine their enemies. How to undermine us. By exposing our intelligence contacts, they can cause far more damage to us than by using a bomb. We believe that this is only the beginning; we can expect more violent forms of behavior to come. This business with the report is just preparation—for what, we don't know. That's what we want to find out, and we think the answer may be here, in Stockholm.”

He turned to the screen. Bente looked at the picture. The man was about seventy. He had heavy eyelids; a round, pleasant face. His eyes bore a distant resemblance to the thin, beautiful Jamal.

“Akim Badawi is Jamal Badawi's uncle. Seventy-two years old; lives in Cairo; retired lecturer at the Al-Azhar University. He's a veteran in the Brotherhood—a member since the fifties. He started out as a young activist, went underground after the purge against the organization in the mid-fifties. At the end of the eighties, he spent four years in prison. He was, for a long time, part of the militant wing of the Brotherhood, propagating political Islam and revolutionary methods. But he's old now. He's no longer on the barricades—he finances them instead. Akim Badawi is the manager of a string of Brotherhood foundations. He's part of the group of trusted individuals who have access to the organization's economic resources. The majority of the foundations finance literary courses, Qur'an schools. But some funding goes to entirely different activities. We know that significant sums used to go to Hamas, and now they are being directed to European groups.”

Wilson looked around with a smile, as if he was enjoying holding the attention of the entire room. “I can tell you one thing: it was pure chance that we found these Ahwa people. Our colleagues were investigating the cargo-plane bomb in the autumn of 2010,
which was when we discovered a connection to the Muslim Brotherhood. That surprised us. We hadn't expected anything like that. It all started when we managed to identify a guy in Qatar who was acting as a middleman for al-Qaida. His job was to map out DHL's cargo flights from Yemen to American destinations and act as a courier, flying into Yemen with small sums of money. Some of this money financed the printer bomb we discovered on DHL's cargo plane in October of last year. Advanced bomb technology, let me tell you. Pretty damn good. It would have blown the plane to kingdom come when it landed in Chicago. But the Saudis found the guy. That was how we traced the bomb and brought the plane down at East Midlands airport. Then we started to unravel it all; we discovered that the money coming into Yemen was from the Muslim Brotherhood. Isn't that right, George?”

The analyst nodded slowly. “The money came from one of the Brotherhood's foundations. Akim Badawi was one of the people with access to that foundation. When we followed that trail further, we discovered that money was also going to British accounts.”

Wilson interrupted him with a broad smile. “Exactly. We can see that the foundation is financing a range of different activities that we deem to be threats, such as several radical websites like Islam4UK and IslamicAwakening. The common denominator of the people looking after the foundation is that they are all part of the most radical element of the Brotherhood.”

New slide: five photographs of younger men of Arab appearance. One of them was Jamal Badawi.

“These are some of the latest recruits to the Brotherhood. All of them have come into contact with members of the Ahwa group and its network in various ways. The man on the far right is Jamal Badawi, Akim's nephew.”

Kempell, who had been sitting quietly throughout, muttered loudly in Swedish, “That can't be right.”

Several of the Swedish participants at the table turned toward him in surprise. But he said nothing further, just shook his head slowly with a worried expression.

Wilson, who, without understanding what Kempell had said, still understood the critical tone, looked across the table at his Swedish colleague with a smile. “Sorry, was there something you wanted to say?”

Kempell cleared his throat uncomfortably and shook his head.

Wilson continued, turning to face Kempell at the other end of the table, as if calmly explaining something to just him. “Consider the following: Akim Badawi has had no contact with his nephew since Jamal moved to Sweden. For several years, they didn't speak at all. But then, just a few months ago, he sent his nephew an e-mail. It was the first time in two years he had been in touch. It's interesting: two years, then he turns up again. Here's the message. George?”

Someone made sure the light in the room was turned down a little.

British signals intelligence had clearly been listening in to Swedish networks. Bente looked at Hamrén, who was waiting expressionlessly for the Brits to find the right slide. She noticed that the British analyst was tense and fumbled as he brought the document up on the screen. It was an Egyptian e-mail to a Swedish computer. She, Kempell and most of the people from Counterterrorism in the room were aware that London carried out surveillance on Swedish territory, but it was still embarrassing to be proven right, on a huge projector screen. The room was silent; only the analyst clearing his dry throat was audible.

“Right. As you can see, it's dated April 20th of this year.”

She looked, together with the others in the room, at the message that appeared on the screen. The original had been written in Arabic and scanned on to the computer. Only the Salafist expert and the British analyst seemed to be able to read it. The analyst, George, brought up a new slide: an English translation.

My dear Jamal
, the message began. Akim Badawi apologized profusely for not writing for so long; he had been ill, he said, the days were getting shorter; he didn't know where all the time went. She read on quickly, past the bit about how Enna was, how Gamal was getting along, that Seif had graduated from high school last
summer. Enna was mentioned repeatedly; she had hip problems. Amr had moved to Alexandria and got a job at a bank. Relatives, presumably. Then he asked how Jamal was, how his mother was—was she still unwell?
You should know
, he then wrote,
that we think of you and pray for you and her every day. We are so happy that you have a good job. It's just like Enna says: you're smarter than the rest of us put together, and patient
. Then he wanted to know how things were in Sweden. He imagined it would be cold at this time of year. He had received the photos that Jamal had sent, by the way. It looked desolate, but clean. Sweden seemed to be good, he wrote; a country that handed out the Nobel Prize for Literature couldn't be all bad, although he did wonder why Adonis had never won it. Did Jamal have a companion?
A man
, he wrote,
should never live alone for too long
. He hoped that Jamal would meet someone—a woman who could look after him. He was bored; since retiring from the faculty, he had too much time on his hands. But a lot had happened recently; he had almost forgotten that he was old.
Perhaps I can look forward to living for a few years in a free Egypt, despite everything
. Egypt! Everything was different now. There was hope. If God's will were done, the country would regain its dignity.
If only we can get rid of the damned military then this God-fearing, beautiful country has a future
. But the armchairs of power were comfortable, he wrote. The opposition to change, real change, was still large. Then:

We still have to organize ourselves to fight the old oppressors. The old generals are playing charades with the populace. They claim that they are the revolution, but they'll feel a new revolution if they aren't careful. I wish I was twenty and could be out there with the young people. I meet a few people from the movement occasionally, by the way. They are happy but worried. We thank God for giving us the power to pull free from the oppressors. We have all walked through the desert, but for the first time I think things are genuinely changing. We all need power to build a new Egypt that can awaken. You're still young, Jamal; perhaps this will be your home one day. You're Egyptian, Jamal, and this is also your revolution. No one would be happier than I to have you
here, but I also know that you have a life in Sweden. Perhaps I'm just an old man that misses you, Jami (do you remember that Enna always called you that?). Desire is a remarkable fire, is it not?

BOOK: Into a Raging Blaze
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