The Nuclear Jihadist
Chapter One
THE SMILING MAN
IT WAS A WARM MORNING in late spring, with sunlight glinting off
Amsterdam's famed canals. The man standing in the doorway of the
laboratory's office seemed confident. He was Pakistani, thirty-six
years old, just over six feet tall, with a broad forehead, fleshy
face, and thick, close-cropped black hair. He wore a Western-style
suit but tucked his tie behind his belt in a way that made the
ensemble seem like an uncomfortable costume. He spoke adequate Dutch
and very good German, but both were accented by the lilt of his
native tongue. Arriving at the Physics Dynamic Research Laboratory
on May 1, 1972, to begin his new job as a metallurgist, he had been
escorted immediately to this office in the mechanical-science
department, where he was to spend the next three years.
The man was smiling at no one in particular because, after a decade
in Europe, he had learned that a simple smile was disarming. When
his new colleague looked up from a large desk that dominated the
room, he smiled even more broadly.
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