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rest of our meal to go.”

5
    MADRID
    Craig wasn’t surprised that the two a.m. meeting took place in the ornate residence of Prime Minister Zahara or that the Prime Minster was not only attending, but was seated at the head of the polished wooden table in the library. From their prior meetings, Craig concluded that the handsome sixty-year-old politician with coal black hair, slicked down and parted in the center, was very much of a hands-on leader, and the stakes were now high.
    For the Spanish government, the Prime Minster was joined by General Alvarez and Carlos Sanchez, Alvarez’s Deputy Defense Minister, whom Craig knew from his resume to be forty-two, but who had a young man’s face, making him look like twenty-five.
    When Craig, Elizabeth, and Giuseppe entered the room, Alvarez and Carlos were seated at one side of the table. Two walls with floor to ceiling shelves were filled with books, so neatly arranged that Craig doubted anyone ever took one off its shelf.
    Craig made the introductions. “Giuseppe Maltoni, the Assistant Director of the EU Counterterrorism Agency based in Rome, and Elizabeth Crowder, a personal friend who has expertise which I believe will be valuable.”
    Alvarez was twirling his mustache and glaring at Craig. “You omitted to say that Elizabeth is a reporter with the
International Herald.
We’re having a confidential meeting on a critical issue. Not a press conference.” He was raising his voice. “It’s outrageous of you to bring her.”
    Craig refused to let Alvarez intimidate him. “As I said, she’s a personal friend.” Craig was speaking calmly. “She has something to contribute and her confidentiality is assured.”
    Now Alvarez turned to the Prime Minster. “We can’t let her stay.”
    Zahara looked at Elizabeth. “I know who you are. I read your articles and usually like them.”
    “Usually,” she said.
    “I didn’t appreciate the one a month ago about the weakness of some of our banks.”
    “Actually, I thought I was being kind.”
    “Perhaps. Back to this. I understand Jose Alvarez’s concern. On the other hand, Craig says you have something to contribute. Will you promise not to report anything about this situation unless I give you approval?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “That’s good enough for me.”
    Alvarez was fuming. “This entire meeting is ridiculous. All for a prank. The note was prepared by some kids or a nut. I can’t tell you how many threats I get every day that turn out to be nothing.”
    “I don’t think so,” Craig said with confidence. “Not this time.”
    “Why?” the Prime Minster asked.
    “The name typed at the bottom of the note was Musa Ben Abdil.”
    Craig’s words were met with blank stares by the three Spaniards.
    “Tell them who Musa Bin Abdil was,” Craig said to Elizabeth.
    Everyone was looking at her.
    “In 1491, when the Muslims were surrounded in the Alhambra, the Islamic leadership wanted to surrender to Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand. Musa Ben Abdil, a famous Muslim general, insisted on fighting the Christians to the bitter end. On horseback, he stormed out of the Alhambra with his sword and killed as many Christians as he could, until they killed him.”
    “That doesn’t prove a thing,” Alvarez said. “The prankster could have read a history book and picked up the name.”
    Craig turned to Zahara, “My gut tells me we’re dealing with a viable threat made by an Islamic fanatic intent on declaring war on Christians in Spain.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” Alvarez said.
    “And this train bombing may be only his opening salvo. He has to be stopped early.”
    Alvarez scoffed. “We’re dealing with kids playing a game.”
    With his eyes, Alvarez was shooting poison darts at Carlos.
    “How do you propose to stop this bombing?” Zahara asked Craig.
    “That won’t be easy. A huge number of trains leave Madrid every morning.”
    As if on cue, Carlos reached into his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers.