Sword of God

by Chris Kuzneski

  All the fuel trucks as they rolled through the front gate.

  Everything he needed.

  More importantly, everything his boss required.

  Shari Shasmeen was obedient for one entire day. For her, it was a personal record.

  She knew she had promised Omar Abdul-Khaliq that she would stay away from the tunnel for the rest of the hajj, but the longer she sat in her hotel room, the more antsy she got. In her mind, her seclusion didn’t make any sense. Why did it matter that two million people were going to be filling the streets of the old city? Her work was underground, far from prying eyes. If anything, she felt safer being in the tunnel than walking around Mecca, always worried that she was going to do or say something that would reveal her identity as a nonpracticing Muslim.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t looking forward to being back in the tunnel with the lead guard. He had creeped her out from the very beginning. Something about the way he looked at her. The way he touched her hand when he tried to take her keys.

  It made her uneasy.

  Of course, she had handled guys like him before. Mostly in bars, right after last call, when dozens of stray men roamed around looking for something to hump. She figured if she could handle them, she could handle him. Just to be safe, she carried a small vial of pepper spray that one of her colleagues had purchased at a Meccan bazaar and given to her in case more violence occurred. The irony was that she was more afraid of the guard than anyone he was supposed to be protecting the site from.

  Her hotel was a few miles from the tunnel, way too far for her to walk by herself, since the mutaween were out in full force, looking for Muslims who were celebrating the hajj in an inappropriate fashion. Thankfully, the same colleague who bought her the pepper spray was willing to drive her to the site and stay with her while she worked. Shari took him up on the former but refused the latter, realizing that his car would be trapped there all day once the pilgrims descended on the mosque. Her decision was made easier when she realized that the new guards, the men she wanted to avoid, were nowhere to be found.

  Normally, Shari would have been pissed. These guards were supposed to be there twenty-four hours a day, making sure everything was safe. Protecting her invaluable site.

  But on this night, she took their absence as a blessing.

  It meant she got to work alone.

  She said good-bye to her friend, then descended to the bottom of the tunnel, boards creaking as she walked. Her shadow danced on the floor every time she passed one of the bulbs that hung from above. They stayed lit around the clock, so she didn’t have to flip any switches or turn on any generators. In fact, the site looked the same both night and day. Same lights. Same temperature. Same everything. That was one of the advantages of working underground. A constant she took comfort in. Outside, she always worried about the wind and the weather, which threatened her discoveries and wreaked havoc on her schedule.

  But inside, the environment was controlled. Perfect for the precision of her work.

  Unfortunately, all of that was about to disappear.

  In a few hours, she would be surrounded by chaos.

  37

  Taif Air Base

  Taif, Saudi Arabia

  The flight was a long one, crossing China, India, and several other countries before touching down at Taif Air Base, only forty-one miles east of Mecca. Time zones worked in their favor, so they arrived in Saudi Arabia only a few hours on the clock after they left South Korea.

  It was still January 1. It was still before noon.

  In their minds, they still had time to make a difference.

  While in the air, Payne and Jones called Colonel Harrington and briefed him on Trevor Schmidt, the bloody cave, and a possible terrorist attack at the Great Mosque. They had kept him out of the loop long enough and realized Harrington’s involvement was necessary if they had any chance of stopping Schmidt.

  At first, Harrington was skeptical. His top people had assured him that Schmidt was dead, proven by DNA results and the large amount of blood, but as he listened to the details of Yong-Su’s testimony, he realized he was wrong. That Schmidt had deceived them all.

  Everyone except Payne and Jones.

  The revelation changed Harrington’s perspective on their involvement. Until then, he had given them minimal information, forcing them to figure things out on their own, his way of testing them under fire while protecting the integrity of his original black op. He had given them access to the cave but refused to reveal its true purpose or whom Schmidt had taken there to torture. He allowed Payne and Jones to talk to Dr. Sheldon but had instructed him to keep his mouth shut about his real agenda. In Harrington’s mind, he wanted to force Payne and Jones to use their own contacts, their own unique style, to uncover a nugget or two about Schmidt. Maybe color in some of the gray areas of Schmidt’s operation that had bothered Harrington from the very beginning. But he never expected them to contribute like this.

  A jeep met the plane on the runway, picking up Payne, Jones, and Kia. They were taken to the same meeting room that Trevor Schmidt was sitting in when a bomb ripped through Al-Hada Hospital and killed most of his men. It was the incident that set things in motion, the event that had fueled his rage. Now they were there to stop him.

  Wearing desert camouflage and a stern expression, Colonel Harrington greeted them at the door and showed them to a conference table that was filled with other personnel from Taif. He offered no words of apology—colonels don’t apologize to subordinates—but his gratitude told Payne everything he needed to know. They had earned the colonel’s respect.

  “Gentlemen,” said Harrington as he started the meeting, “we’re currently waiting on word from Washington, but time is of the essence, so we need to begin.”

  As he spoke, he glanced around the room, making eye contact with each person, letting them know the gravity of the situation and how vital their role was in stopping it. “In the past, we’ve received hundreds of reports of possible terrorist attacks, but to my recollection we’ve never received one like this. According to our sources, a team of American soldiers is planning an assault on Meccan soil. These men are highly trained and highly motivated to carry out such a mission. As of now, we don’t have a definitive time frame. However, if their goal is maximum devastation, our best guess is it’s going to be carried out today.”

  That was news to Payne. “Based on what?”

  Harrington pointed to an older man, who wore a civilian shirt and tie, not a military uniform, like the other Taif personnel in the room. The man had white hair and dark skin, possibly indicative of Middle Eastern descent, although he spoke with no accent except when he used Arabic terms that rolled off his tongue with the fluidity of a native speaker.

  “Right now, we are in the middle of Dhul al-Hijjah, the most sacred month of the Islamic calendar. Translated into English it means Lord of the Pilgrimage. It is the time when Muslims converge on Mecca to complete the hajj, one of the five pillars of Islamic faith. It is a journey that all Muslims are expected to make during their lifetime.”

  He tapped a few keys on the laptop in front of him, and a graphic listing the Islamic months was transmitted to a large video screen on the far wall. Everyone turned to get a better view.

  “Unlike the Gregorian calendar, the one we use in America, the Islamic calendar is lunar. It is roughly eleven days shorter than our calendar, meaning Islamic holidays are celebrated eleven days earlier than the previous year—at least according to our calendar. This year Dhul al-Hijjah started on December 23.”

  Payne instantly recognized the date. It was the day that Schmidt faked his own death.

  It corresponded with the beginning of the hajj season.

  “You might be wondering, why is this date important? The answer is quite simple. The hajj is very structured. Pilgrims must perform specific tasks on specific days, or else they do not meet their sacred obligation. That means on any given day, at any given time, we know exactly where the majority of pilgri
ms would be.”

  “How many are we talking about?” Jones asked.

  “According to the Ministry of Hajj, which just released official data, there are nearly two point four million pilgrims in Mecca this year, nearly one point seven million from countries other than Saudi Arabia.”

  Click. A new graphic explained the pilgrimage, day by day.

  “The hajj itself doesn’t begin until the eighth day of the month, when all pilgrims walk from Mecca to the village of Mina, a journey of five kilometers, where they spend the night in forty-four thousand fire-resistant tents that the Saudi government assembled. All of the tents are white, but signs are color-coded by nationality so pilgrims can stay with their own. For prayer and safety.”

  “Define safety,” Payne said.

  “The Saudis would love you to believe that the hajj is a safe journey, but that’s misinformation. The truth is, several people die in Tent City every hajj. In the past, the biggest concern was always fire. Blazes swept through every year until they put up fire-resistant tents. Now the biggest issue is disease. All those people coming from all those countries and assembling in one spot? The numbers are mind-boggling. On average, there are more than fifty people sleeping in each tent.”

  Click. A picture of Tent City filled the screen. White tents in straight rows stretched as far as the eye could see. Like snow-covered peaks in the desert sand.

  “From here, the hajj continues forward. But pilgrims will return to Tent City on their return trip to Mecca.”

  Click. The next photo showed a massive plain that surrounded a granite hill.

  “Day two begins before dawn. They journey to the Plain of Arafat, where they ask Allah for forgiveness for all their sins. In the background you can see Mount Arafat. It is where Muhammad delivered his farewell sermon in 632 ad. Muslims also believe that Adam and Eve were reunited on this hill two hundred years after their separation, punishment for their disobedience.”

  “You mean the Adam and Eve?” Payne asked.

  “One and the same. Most people find this surprising, but Muslims and Christians have many of the same core beliefs—including the same god. The confusing part is each group calls their figures a different name. Christians say God. Muslims say Allah. But it’s the same deity. In fact, if you go through the Old Testament, you’ll see several of the same names, albeit with different spellings, in the Qur’an. Adam, Eve, Abraham, Ishmael, Hagar, and so on.”

  Harrington cleared his throat. “Professor, please get back on point.”

  “Yes, sir.” He clicked on the next photo. It showed a long stone wall that was surrounded by pilgrims, all of them dressed in white. “Today is the third day of the hajj. Pilgrims will perform ramy al-jamarat, or the stoning of the devil, after the noontime prayer. They are required to throw pebbles, which they collected last night at Muzdalifah, at three stone walls that represent the temptations of Satan. Until recently, they threw pebbles at large pillars called ja-marat, but the crowds have grown so large in recent years that they decided to build long walls to spread the people out instead of having them crowd around pillars. In the past, hundreds have been trampled and killed.”

  Next photo. It showed a slaughterhouse in Mina, filled with lambs, cows, camels, and goats.

  “After the stoning, pilgrims are expected to slaughter their best animal, called udhiya. This represents the sacrifice that Abraham was willing to make when God commanded him to sacrifice his son Ishmael. In the past, pilgrims did the slaying themselves or directly oversaw the process. But now they are able to buy a sacrifice voucher that ensures an animal will be killed in their name. Today more than four hundred thousand animals will be slain.”

  Click. A map of the hajj path filled the screen. It pointed out all the locations he had described. An arrow showed the traffic flow as it left Mecca and went to Mina, the Plain of Arafat, and returned to Mina. The final arrow pointed back toward Mecca.

  “The ritualistic slaughter marks the beginning of Eid ul-Adha, the Festival of the Sacrifice. It is celebrated throughout the Islamic world, even by Muslims not in Mecca. Male pilgrims mark this occasion by shaving their heads, which represents the cleansing of their sins through the hajj.”

  Click. A photo of the Kaaba and the Black Stone.

  “Later today, pilgrims will start their journey back to the Masjid al-Haram, or the sacred mosque, to complete a ritual called the Tawaf az-Ziyarah. Using the Black Stone as a marker, they must walk around the Kaaba seven times in a counterclockwise motion, which signifies the unity of all Muslims to worship one god. With each rotation they will try to get closer and closer to the stone itself. The truly blessed will get to touch it or even kiss it.”

  Click. An overheard view of the Great Mosque.

  “From there, Pilgrims will honor Hagar’s search for water by walking back and forth between the two hills of Safa and Marwah. These hills are actually contained inside the mosque, a building so large it can hold nearly one million people.”

  “Did you say million?” an officer asked.

  The speaker nodded. “Not to mention the other million or so who will be standing outside the mosque, waiting to get inside.”

  “And this is happening today?”

  He nodded again. “More than two million Muslims in one city block, all of them with the same goal. To get as close to the Black Stone as possible.”

  38

  The Pentagon

  Arlington, Virginia

  The White House was notified of the situation, but they passed the buck to the Pentagon, claiming they were more equipped to handle this type of crisis. Whether or not that was the case, they were given an hour to sort through the political hotbed and reach a decision.

  On the surface, it seemed like an easy choice. Rogue U.S. soldiers were planning an assault in Saudi Arabia, where fifteen thousand Americans were participating in the hajj. What was there to even think about? They knew that a small explosion, if positioned in the right place in the Great Mosque, would kill far more people than 9/11, and the resulting panic would create a human stampede, the likes of which mankind had never seen. Injuries and fatalities would be so substantial that military experts couldn’t even agree on a projection.

  And that was with a small explosive.

  If Schmidt had access to a larger device, the devastation would easily exceed Hiroshima, where an estimated forty-five thousand people died from the initial blast.

  This should have been a no-brainer. Something needed to be done.

  However, the longer their discussion continued, the cloudier the issues became.

  Mecca was a restricted city, one where the United States wouldn’t be granted access no matter how compelling their argument was. That meant the only way to get troops inside the city was by force—something they wouldn’t risk, since Saudi Arabia, the world’s biggest oil exporter, was one country they couldn’t afford to piss off—or through stealth, which might have been possible if they were given enough time. But in their opinion, it wasn’t the type of operation that could be arranged in a few hours.

  From a political standpoint, a failed mission would have been far worse than no mission at all.

  Religion complicated things even further. If word ever leaked that they had violated Islam’s most sacred city on one of its holiest holidays, the United States would feel the wrath of every Islamic nation for years to come. Homeland Security would have to come up with a threat level that was more severe than red, because every terrorist in the world would be gunning for revenge.

  Sure, the Pentagon realized they might—and the key word was might—save thousands of lives in Saudi Arabia, but how many Americans would be killed in the future because the United States had invaded Mecca? How many cities would be bombed? How many schools?

  It was a compelling argument.

  However, in the end, their decision hinged on one main factor. If the Pentagon knew with absolute certainty that Trevor Schmidt was planning an attack that day, they would have given their stamp of
approval for a preemptive assault. But based on their current intel and all the negative ramifications if they were wrong, they simply weren’t willing to risk involvement.

  The verdict did not surprise Colonel Harrington. From the moment Trevor Schmidt disappeared, Harrington sensed (he potential for a world-class shitstorm. Of course, he never imagined it would elevate so quickly. If so, he would have been more forthright with Payne and Jones from the beginning. Who knows? Maybe that would have made a difference. Maybe they would have figured things out sooner. Maybe this whole situation would have been averted.

  Unfortunately, men in his position were often placed in no-win situations, asked to keep secrets for the good of the country, secrets that sometimes conflicted with other promises that were just as important. At some point they are forced to choose between the two, and when they do, it’s rarely a simple choice. They must ponder all the consequences before they make their decision, always weighing the good and the bad, the long term and the short term.

  But today, with millions of lives on the line, none of that was necessary.

  Harrington knew he had to come clean ASAP if they wanted to stop Schmidt.

  The conference room was cleared of everyone except Harrington, Payne, and Jones. They sat at the far end of the long table. They talked softly so no one in the hall could hear.

  “I just got word from Washington,” Harrington said. “We’ve been told to do nothing.”

  Payne didn’t flinch. “No shock there. That’s what we expected.”

  “Do you agree with it?”

  “We wouldn’t have flown in from Korea if we did.”

  “So, you were willing to go to Mecca?”

  Payne nodded. “I’m still willing to go to Mecca.”

  Jones agreed. “I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

  “In that case,” Harrington said, “there are some things you need to know about Schmidt. Things I should’ve told you long ago but wasn’t allowed. Hell, I’m still not allowed. But if we’re going to prevent this tragedy, you need to know everything.”