Sword of God(30)
She knew not to question him. So far he had proven his worth at every turn. Not only did he finance the project with his deep pockets, money his family had earned in the oil business, but he’d done a remarkable job of getting work permits from the Saudi government, a minor miracle since they were digging right down the street from the Great Mosque, and keeping the police away. Several times she wanted to ask him how that was possible, but she realized it was one of those questions better left unasked.
“Have you touched the body?”
“No! We checked to see if he was dead, but other than that we haven’t touched anything.”
“Good. This is good. You must not touch the body. Leave it as it is.”
She grimaced. “For how long?”
“It will be removed today.”
“But—”
His voice grew stern. “Please allow me to finish.”
She nodded, regretting her mistake.
“I will send a new team of guards, men more equipped to handle this crisis. They will remain at the site, night and day. You shall brief them when they arrive. They’ll need to see everything.”
“Of course.”
“Activity around the mosque will only increase as pilgrims arrive. The old city will be crowded, filled with millions of witnesses.” Abdul-Khaliq paused, thinking things through. “Until the hajj is over, all work should be stopped at the site. No workers, no digging, no attention. No one but the guards to protect our work.... Do you not agree?”
She answered carefully, realizing it was a loaded question. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Besides, you and your team deserve some time off—a reward for all your efforts. It will help you forget this tragedy.... Mecca is a historic city, one you’ve barely seen. Use your time wisely. Roam the streets, observe the celebration. It is one to behold.”
Shari was quite familiar with the hajj and its customs. While preparing for her dig, she read several firsthand accounts, tales of tragedy and triumph, loss and salvation, written by men and women whose lives were changed by their journey. Deep inside she knew she would never participate as a pilgrim—she was a nonpracticing half-Muslim— but as an academic, she realized her observations would be invaluable.
Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the best thing to do.
Considering the circumstances, it was certainly the safest.
“Before we conclude,” he said, “there is one more item to be discussed.”
“Which is?”
“The delivery of my package. Did it arrive safely?”
She held the sealed envelope in her hand. “Yes. I have it right here.”
“Good. That is good.” He paused briefly. “Is it unopened?”
“It seems to be.”
“Excellent!”
She was dying to find out what was inside, especially since the man who’d delivered it was dead in her tunnel. Still, she knew not to ask too much. “What should I do with it?”
“Hold it at all times. One of these days, it will come in handy. You shall see.”
The guards showed up sooner than expected, less man an hour after she’d called Abdul-Khaliq.
They were highly trained and highly unsociable. Only one of them spoke to Shari, and even then it was to tell her to stay out of their way.
Their first order of business was the body. One of the men went through Nasir’s pockets, finding the keys to the Toyota Camry, while another man backed a van as close to the tunnel entrance as possible, until his rear bumper nearly hit the chain-link fence that protected it. They unloaded an Arabic rug that had been purchased at a nearby bazaar and unrolled it next to Nasir. Two of the men moved him to the edge of the rug, then rolled him up inside like a burrito.
Seconds later, the body was in the back of the van.
The bloodstain was even less of a challenge. Since most of the blood had dried on the wooden planks that lined the floor, they simply lifted the boards and replaced them with fresh ones from the building supplies that filled the vacant lot outside. Two men tossed the stained wood onto the rolled-up rug, closed the van door, and sped away.
The whole process took less than five minutes.
“Anything else I should know?” asked the lead guard.
Shari shook her head, stunned at their efficiency.
“In that case, please take me below.”
She led him underground, giving him a brief tour along the way. “Most of this digging was done before I even arrived at the site. They were laying water pipes for the Abraj Al Bait Towers up the street when the discovery was made. That complex is so humongous they had to build their own pumping station just to handle the demand.”
She pointed out where the tunnel branched. “The water pipes go that way toward the towers, but our site is back here. We only had to dig this small stretch. It was rather simple.”