The Absolution (2015)
“He had planned tonight’s demonstration down to the last detail. It was now two in the morning in Misrata, Libya’s third-largest city, and the streets were deserted, but even so the café had been closed all day as a precaution. No one would see the commander or the cleric arrive.
He was waiting for the sound of a car, but when they came it was on foot, opening the back door and silently slipping inside. The hacker, whose name was Tareq, saw the commander glance uneasily over to where Hassan, the café owner, was standing.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Hassan will make tea, then leave us.”
The commander nodded. He was wearing an old camouflage jacket and a turban that had been washed so many times its colour was indeterminate – the same one he had been wearing ever since 2011 and the War of Liberation. The cleric, by contrast, was wearing a black woollen chechia, a Tunisian imam’s hat, although, so far as the hacker knew, he wasn’t from that country. He spoke Arabic with a strong Egyptian accent.
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