Jones nodded toward Omar Abdul-Khaliq’s property. It looked virtually unchanged from the satellite photo they had studied in the truck, a picture taken two weeks ago. Piles of stone and dirt filled one corner of the lot. Construction materials, protected by a chain-link fence, were stacked in the back near a small shed made of plywood. Payne stepped off the sidewalk and studied the terrain. Tread marks could be seen in the arid ground. They were recent.
“What do you think?” Payne asked.
“I think you were right. They’re not building anything.”
“Then what’s with the rocks?” They were fractured and covered in dirt, like they had just been pulled from the ground. “They had to come from somewhere.”
Jones agreed. Property this close to the mosque wouldn’t be used as a dumping ground. It was too valuable as commercial space. However, as far as he could see, there was no excavation on the lot. Curious, he walked toward the chain link and spotted dozens of footsteps heading into and out of the shack. “I might have something.”
Payne scanned the street for witnesses. No one was paying attention. “You’re clear.”
Jones pulled a gun from his ankle holster and slipped through the unlocked gate, cautiously approaching the shed, which looked more like a long outhouse than a construction office. Yet for some reason, thick power cables ran through the right wall, the type of cords that were used for large industrial projects, not small shacks. The door was made of plywood and rested on iron hinges. Nudging it open with his free hand, Jones peeked inside.
As he stared at the interior, his eyes widened, stunned by what he saw.
“What is it?” Payne demanded.
“It’s a tunnel. A big-ass tunnel. We’re going to need more men.”
Payne hustled across the lot, not pulling his gun until he reached the door. He glanced inside before he spoke. “We have a possible location. All eyes required. Team two, follow us in. Team three, guard the yard. Prepare to join us on my command.”
Jones waited, anxious. “Ready?”
He nodded. “I’ll take the lead.”
The duo stepped inside, weapons raised, steadily moving forward as their eyes adjusted to the gloom. More than fifty feet in, they hit a branch in the tunnel. Lights were strung in both directions. Boards lined the floors. They waited there until team two arrived. Payne signaled for them to go to the right while he and Jones went to the left.
No words were spoken as they parted ways.
Payne led the way down the corridor. It looked similar to the main shaft, yet somehow newer. Like the ground had been burrowed in recent weeks. Possibly the source of all the dirt and stones in the vacant lot. If so, someone had gone through a lot of trouble to dig with such precision.
But why? What the hell was this place?
The mystery deepened when they reached the iron gate. Not only was it locked, but the bulbs that had lit their path suddenly stopped. Darkness filled the chamber in front of them. Intrigued, Jones reached under his thobe and pulled out a small flashlight. With a flick of the switch, he was staring at broken glass. And chunks of rubble. And something that looked like ...
“Is that a body?” he asked, trying to get a better view. “Jon, I think that’s a body.”
Payne nodded as he stared through the bars. The beam barely reached the rear wall, but he could make out the shape of a woman, lying in the fetal position, her hands tied to her legs. He took the light from Jones and shined it along the gate’s frame. No alarms or sensors. No booby traps. Nothing prevented them from getting inside. “Pick it.”
Jones grinned. “With pleasure.”
He removed a small toolkit and went to work. This was one of his biggest talents—in the past, he’d picked locks underwater and blindfolded—and he loved showing off his skills. Thirty seconds later, he pushed open the gate with a soft screech.
Payne went first, flashlight in one hand, weapon in the other. Glass crunched under every step. Moving closer, he shined the light on the woman’s face and noticed two things.
One, she was covered in blood.
Two, she was still alive.
43
When Payne first approached, Shari started thrashing and flailing, worried that he was one of the guards who had assaulted her or the men who wanted to kill her. But once they explained they were American soldiers who were there to help, she started to relax.
No tears. No messy, emotional scene. This woman was a fighter.
Payne cut the cords off her hands and legs and eased her to her feet. She was unsteady for several seconds, leaning against him as she filled them in on everything. The tunnel. The robbery of her site. And her boss: Omar Abdul-Khaliq.
“Is he in Mecca?” Jones wondered.
“I don’t know where he is. I’ve never met the man. We do everything by phone. The last time we talked was two days ago, when he hired new guards to protect this place. There was a murder and—”
Payne interrupted her. “A murder?”
She nodded. “A delivery guy dropped off a package and was killed on his way out.”
“What kind of package?”
“An envelope for Omar. He asked me to keep it on me at all times. He seemed pretty worried about it.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I should.” She reached through the flap of her abaya and pulled out a hajj belt (an oversized pouch for pilgrims) filled with money, keys, and her travel papers. She handed the envelope to Payne. “It’s still sealed. He told me not to open it.”
“And when did—” Payne stopped in midsentence as a voice chirped in his ear. Team two was sending him a message. He raised his index finger and told her to wait.
“Team one, we found another tunnel. Repeat, another tunnel. Permission to access?”
He glanced at Jones, who heard the same transmission. “Go check it out.”
Jones nodded and ran off.
Payne responded. “Team two, permission denied. Repeat, denied. Team one will be joining you for entry. Talk us to a rendezvous.”
Voices chattered in his earpiece as he returned his attention to Shari. She was bloodied and battered but quite resilient. “How long have you been working down here?”
“Probably a few days too long.”
Payne smiled, impressed by her toughness. “Considering what’s happened, I’m sure you’d like to get out of here. However, before you leave, I’d like to ask you a small favor. Would you mind giving me a tour?”
“A tour?”
He nodded as they walked toward the gate. “I’m searching for an old friend who might’ve passed through here. The more I know about this place, the better.”
“One friend or several?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I heard people working in the tunnel. One of them spotted me and wanted to make sure I was dead, but the other said I’d be dead soon enough.”
Payne nodded. It sure sounded like them. “How long ago?”
Shari thought for a moment. “Less than an hour. They were doing something on the other end of the tunnel. Near the maintenance shaft.”
“Maintenance for what?”
“That complex up the road. They had to build their own water facility in the middle of the desert just to handle the water demand. Their pipes ran past here, and our tunnel connects with theirs.”
“You mean the mosque?”
She shook her head. “Abraj Al Bait Towers. They’re being built next to the mosque. When they’re done, it’s going to be the biggest building in the world.”
“And it’s across from the mosque?”
She nodded. “Which seems sacrilegious to some people. Especially considering the owner.”
“Who’s the owner?”
“The Bin Laden Group.”
Payne winced. It wasn’t a name he was expecting. “As in Osama bin Laden?”
“It’s his family’s business. His father, Mohammed, started the company himself.”
Despite their infamous sur
name, the bin Ladens share a close relationship with the Saudi royal family, thanks to the construction work they did at the royal palace in Jeddah. King Abdul Aziz was so impressed with their craftsmanship that he gave them exclusive rights to all religious construction in Mecca and Medina, Saudi Arabia’s two holiest cities, and even asked them to renovate the Great Mosque itself. Since that time, the bin Ladens have expanded their empire, building tunnels, dams, and thousands of miles of Saudi roads while branching into several diverse areas.
They include power, chemicals, manufacturing, telecom, and real estate.
However, their latest development will be their most significant yet.
Once completed, the Abraj Al Bait Towers will be the largest building in the world. Not the tallest—its main tower will reach 1,591 feet, which will be 80 feet shorter than the Taipei Financial Center in Taiwan—yet the biggest in overall mass, a combined floor space of 16 million square feet. The complex will consist of 7 interconnected buildings, including a 5-star hotel, a business conference center, a prayer hall for 3,800 people, a 4-story mall built to resemble an outdoor Arab market, 2 heliports, a 1,000-car parking garage, a self-contained transportation system, and several residential towers. More than 65,000 people will be able to stay there at one time.
The estimated cost is $1.5 billion.
Nevertheless, economic analysts expect the project to be a financial bonanza, capitalizing on the millions of Muslims who visit the Great Mosque throughout the year. Visitors from around the world will be able to look out their hotel windows and stare down at the Kaaba, the holiest shrine in Islam. They will be able to hear the muezzin’s call to prayer while in the air-conditioned comfort of their rooms. They will be able to walk across the street, day or night, and kiss the Black Stone. It will be a pilgrim’s dream come true.
Unless, of course, Trevor Schmidt got to it first.
Payne met Jones near the entrance to the maintenance shaft. A large sealed door, which looked like it belonged in a submarine, had been wedged open before their arrival. Shari guessed it was the noise she’d heard in the tunnel, because the hatch was normally locked.
“Where’s it go?” Jones asked.
“To the perfect target,” Payne answered. He explained what was being built, and more importantly, who was building it. “Osama was shunned by his family a long time ago, but that won’t make a difference to Schmidt. He’ll remember all the family members who were killed in the hospital bombing and focus on the bin Laden name. In one attack, he can avenge his unit’s death and nine-eleven, kill thousands of Muslims, and destroy their most sacred site.”
“Makes sense to me.”
“The only question is how.”
Jones glanced at Shari. “Have you been inside the complex?”
“No one has. It’s nowhere near done. They won’t be finished for two more years.”
“So it’ll be empty except for the builders?”
“Actually, it should be empty, period. Today’s a religious holiday. No one will be working.”
“Any security? Cameras? Alarms?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I’ve spent all my time down here, not outside. Other than the maintenance tunnel, my knowledge about the towers is strictly based on rumors. The bin Ladens are notorious for keeping their designs under wraps. Other than the architects and a few government officials, no one has access to their plans.”
Back in 1979, the bin Ladens were working on a number of religious projects throughout Mecca, exercising the exclusive rights that had been granted to them by the royal family. Because of this special relationship, bin Laden trucks were able to come and go without being inspected, a fact that was taken advantage of by Islamic rebels, who used the trucks—without the bin Ladens’ knowledge—to smuggle hundreds of weapons into the city, including those that were used during ,the insurrection that ended with the seizure of the Great Mosque.
Ironically, since the bin Ladens were in charge of citywide renovations, including those at the mosque, they were the only ones who possessed maps of Mecca’s underground tunnel system. That meant even though bin Laden trucks were used in the insurrection, the Saudi police had to turn to the bin Ladens for their assistance.
Jones asked, “Which government officials would be notified about their plans?”
“The Ministry of the Interior.”
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered. “It figures.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
Payne explained. “The guy we’re after tortured one of their officials. We weren’t sure why, but now it makes sense. He wanted to know about the towers.”
44
The entry route was exactly as they had been told. Follow the pipes directly into the subbasement. Take the stairs to access ground level. From there, all seven towers were accessible via ramps and exterior construction elevators. Security would be virtually nonexistent, since most of the guards would be outside, patrolling the plaza, stopping people from entering the work zone. They wouldn’t be inside, worried about terrorists.
During the past six months, Schmidt had studied the building plans and surveyed Mecca on three different trips. However, until he was standing inside, staring at the tons of concrete and steel that surrounded him, he never fully grasped how big the complex was.
To build the Abraj Al Bait Towers, a large hole was dug until they hit bedrock, which was less than 100 feet deep in Mecca because its layer was close to the surface. In some projects, such as the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur, workers had to dig 394 feet underground to lay the foundation, a massive undertaking that cost millions of dollars.
Next, footings were anchored in the hole to distribute the weight, much like a pyramid, before concrete was poured over the top, creating the bottom floor. Large cranes inserted vertical support beams and horizontal steel girders, which held the building together, forming a giant frame. Finally, a curtain wall, made of concrete and glass, was attached to the outside, providing water and wind resistance while improving the overall aesthetics of the project.
From there, work was done on the interior. Three thousand miles of electrical wires. Twenty-eight thousand miles of plumbing. Heating and cooling systems. Wood, marble, stone, glass. All of it laid in stages over several years, pieces slowly coming together until the complex was finally done.
Construction began in 2004 and wouldn’t be finished until 2009.
But as far as Schmidt was concerned, everything he needed was already in place.
The tunnel was narrow, lined in concrete and filled with massive pipes that seemed to go on forever. With nowhere to hide and no way to spread out, they jogged single file, their footsteps multiplying with every echo. Fluorescent lights, covered in metal screens and bolted to the ceiling, lit their path, but the truth was they were heading into darkness.
No advance recon. No knowledge of the building. Like a black hole of information.
Payne led the way, followed by Jones, then the other two teams. Their pace never slowed from the moment they entered the hatch until they approached the tunnel’s end. It opened into a wide expanse, cluttered with equipment, raw materials, and the skeletal foundation of the buildings. The men scattered quickly, searching for architectural plans, schematics, or maps—anything to help them navigate the maze that surrounded them.
Three minutes passed before something was found. It was a simple pamphlet, written in Arabic and English, detailing the future amenities of the towers, including a full-color illustration of the complex upon completion. There were seven buildings in total, all of them facing the Great Mosque. Five were laid out in a giant horseshoe, while the space between was filled with a multistoried mall. The remaining two towers jutted away from the curve in the U— one tower on each side, yet still connected through a series of walkways and bridges.
The showcased building was the one in the center. Simply called the Hotel Tower, it was nearly sixteen hundred feet tall, trimmed in gold, and topped with a crescent moon, an important sy
mbol in the Islamic faith. It was nearly twice the height of the others, whose names and sizes were listed.
1. Hotel Tower 485 m, 1,591 ft.
2. Hajar 260 m, 853 ft.
3. Zamzam 260 m, 853 ft.
4. Qiblah240m,787ft.
5. Sarah 240 m, 787 ft.
6. Marwah 240 m, 787 ft.
7. Safa240m,787ft.
With the exception of the hotel, each of the names had its roots in Islam. Sarah and Hajar were women in the Qur’an. Zamzam was the famous well inside the Great Mosque. Marwah and Safa were the hills that pilgrims travel between seven times. Qiblah was the direction of prayer in Mecca.
According to the pamphlet, each of the buildings was being treated as a separate project. All of them were interconnected, but they would be finished at different intervals. Two of the residential towers would be completed this year; the hotel would take until the end of the decade.
Payne considered this while he planned their next move.
Meanwhile, his men gathered around as if he were a quarterback in the huddle, waiting for him to call the play.
“There are six of us and six exterior buildings,” he said. “We don’t know where they’ll be or what they’re doing. For all we know, they’re spread throughout the complex. The best way to cover that much ground is by splitting up. Radio frequently. Keep me posted. Concentrate on the structural areas, places where an explosive will do the most damage. We don’t have time to go room to room. Just follow your gut and we may get lucky.”
He pointed to a man then pointed to a building, each assigned the number in the pamphlet. “You, four. You, five. You, six. You, seven. D.J. and I will take the two towers closest to the hotel. If you see anything, let us know. We’ll reassign manpower as needed.”
The soldiers dispersed, moving in pairs. Even-numbered buildings were on the left; odd numbers were on the right. The men would travel together until they were forced to split up.
Payne and Jones were the last to leave. They lingered in (he subbasement for an extra minute, looking for something to improve their odds, hoping to find a better map, one with floor plans or mechanical drawings. Anything to point out the weaknesses that Schmidt might have spotted when he did his research.
Sword of God Page 21
