Payne and Jones sat in the back of one of these trucks, hidden behind a fake panel and several cardboard boxes that were filled with perishable food items and large bags of ice. It wasn’t the best camouflage in the world, but it was the best that Colonel Harrington could come up with on short notice.
Two bulbs lit their secret compartment, giving them time to study maps, memorize the dossiers of Schmidt’s crew, and formulate a plan of attack. Four other soldiers were joining them—two in the back of another truck and the two drivers, both Arab Americans with perfectly forged paperwork. Without it, none of them would be getting into Mecca.
Wrapped in a blanket, Jones tried to stay warm in the frigid climate. Thankfully, the ihram stage of the hajj was over, meaning they didn’t have to wear the traditional garments, consisting of two white unhemmed sheets and sandals, to blend in. Not only would it have been tough to conceal a weapon, but he blanched at the thought of going into a battle without underwear.
“You know,” he said, “we might be the first people in history to get frostbite in the desert.”
As a Pittsburgh native, Payne shrugged off the cold. “Pussy.”
“Wait! I’m sneaking into a forbidden city to save two million people and I’m a pussy!”
He nodded. “Bet it feels good to finally admit it, huh?”
Jones laughed. “Asshole.”
“Okay. Now that we have both sides covered, let’s get down to business.”
Payne held up an aerial view of the Great Mosque that was taken from a spy satellite less than two weeks before. He pointed to a stretch of land west of one of the main gates. “This is Omar Abdul-Khaliq’s property. From the air, it looks like a large construction site. However, upon closer inspection, it appears to be missing something important.”
“What’s that?”
“Construction.”
Jones grabbed the picture and took a closer look. He spotted giant piles of dirt and rock and several pieces of heavy equipment, but there was no foundation being laid.
No building going up. “Could be something, could be nothing. We won’t know until we get there.”
“Obviously, the connection between Schmidt and Omar is pretty thin. We can link Omar to Salaam through a money trail, and Salaam to Schmidt through his advisers at the cave. To be honest, I’m not sure if one has anything to do with the other. Actually, I’m more interested in the official from the Ministry of the Interior. What was he doing in Kuwait with Salaam’s men? And why would Schmidt torture him?”
Jones took a guess. “Could be any number of things. Everything from security at the mosque to police response times. Not to mention parts of the city’s infrastructure that could be useful: roads, water, power, telecommunications. If Schmidt grabbed the right guy, he’d have access to everything we don’t, including security codes and building schematics.”
Payne swore under his breath. They were already facing long odds—a battle against the clock and a highly trained unit that had worked together for years. Now it was even worse. Not only did his opponents have months to organize their mission, but they also had access to inside information. Somehow it didn’t seem fair.
Of course, despite all that, despite all the things that were stacked against them, Payne and Jones had one crucial thing that Schmidt and his crew didn’t.
The element of surprise.
Her nose had been shattered, filling her mouth with the taste of blood. The room was spinning.
Shari tried to stand but couldn’t get her legs to work. Everything was wobbly. Her body. Her brain. Her memory. Like waking up in an early-morning fog without actually falling asleep. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision. Trying to focus on something that would allow her to remember what had happened. The ground. The ceiling. The throbbing in her head. But nothing worked. There was a giant void.
Squinting in the darkness, she could barely make out shapes except for a series of vertical lines in the murky distance. They were thick and sturdy, a mixture of shadow and light, black and white, alternating one after another. She stared at them, trying to understand their purpose. Trying to figure out what they were. None of it made any sense.
How long had she been unconscious?
How had she gotten there?
Why couldn’t she breathe through her nose?
Confusion reigned for ten minutes before details started to emerge.
The first thing Shari noticed was the cord. She felt it wrapped around her ankles, bound so tightly that she couldn’t separate her legs. Her hands were tied as well, pulled behind her back and attached to a metal loop that had been driven into the hard ground. No matter how hard she pulled or twisted, she couldn’t get it to budge.