by Reed Sprague
“We don’t care one way or the other what the official policy is toward terrorists, and we don’t care who or how Muslims in Saudi Arabia or anywhere else in the world worship. We care only that terror attacks are being planned, possibly against the U.S. We must stop those plans and we must stop them soon.”
“But aren’t we supposed to be working through WWCA now?” River asked.
“You take your orders from me. That’s all you need to know,” Albert said.
“But Peterson now—”
“You take your orders from me and from those I assign to give you orders,” Albert said, interrupting River before he could finish his statement.
“You will present yourself as a U.S. citizen who converted to Islam six years ago. You will present yourself as a person who is completely disgusted with the West, and as one who wants to bring about change through radical actions.
“Where should I begin?” River asked, exasperated.
“You will first fly to Istanbul, to train for thirty days.
“Among other things, you will study the Koran and study it thoroughly. During the next thirty days, seven days a week — literally until you step onto your plane bound for Saudi Arabia — you will be indoctrinated twelve hours a day on the details of the Islamic faith. It will be as if you’re being brainwashed. When you get home each night you will read the Koran, memorizing key verses. You will also be drilled on the reasons given by radical Muslims for their hatred and their plots of terror. You will learn to believe like them, and you will learn fast.
“You can go now. Go directly to the conference room, the small one, Room 351–A. Your more detailed briefing will begin in fifteen minutes. And, finally — and most important of all — you need to know that this time we really are going to be responsible for a Russian nuclear suitcase bomb. I’m not sure exactly when you’ll come across it after you get to Medina, but whenever that time comes, make absolutely certain you keep that bomb from exploding. Find that bomb. Make sure that you find that bomb.”
“Thanks for your faith in me to take on such an important mission… I think.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
14 NOVEMBER 2024
Medina, Saudi Arabia, was orderly and clean. The people were free to walk the streets, but they were forbidden from taking to the streets. Societal order was of paramount importance to the royal family. The people were to be taken care of, and they were to live a life of discipline. If they found themselves in need of discipline, the royal family had plenty of state discipline to lend them. The going interest rate was low, the loans were easy to secure, the late charges were steep. The periodic payments — in the form of absolute allegiance to the state and to Islam — were due daily, hourly even, and had to be paid on time.
Jews and Christians didn’t officially exist in Medina. Nor did any other non–Muslim. Women were unrecognizable as such. Children were silent. Playgrounds lacked loud, or even lower–pitched irritating noises of any kind. Even the swings and teeter–totters didn’t squeak. All things, including the Saudis themselves, worked as they were supposed to in Medina, and all produced little noise while doing so. The work was not hard, but it was orderly.
Medina reminded River of a finely tuned watch with a twist—quiet, except for orderly noise, noise that was necessary. Ticking was acceptable. Watches operated with precision, according to certain laws, as did Medina, and all of Saudi Arabia.
The authority that enforced the laws under which a watch operated was difficult to see. It existed — it must have, as evidenced by the results that were plain to see — but it kept a low profile as the watch ticked away. Removing the back of the watch exposed the power of the wound spring or the battery. Doing so also risked damage to the watch; it increased the possibility that the watch would not operate again with absolute efficiency.
The people of Medina were efficient. They respected authority. It was not necessary for them to know what happened behind the scenes to keep the system finely tuned. Was it the oil? Money? Strict laws? Religious requirements for obedience? The authority of the royal family? No matter. The people of Saudi Arabia were not allowed to remove the cover to observe the sources of the system’s power. They were to operate out of duty and respect for the system.
Whatever it was that made things so orderly, River picked up on the tidiness of Saudi society as soon as he stepped onto the streets of Medina. “Disorder will not be tolerated here. You have to keep your mouth under control, and I mean fully under control,” instructed River’s USFIA Medina contact.
River met his contact at a small restaurant, similar to an American or French café. It was located in the heart of downtown Medina. His name was Shane Rawls, and he was the Saudi senior USFIA officer. He was in charge of all USFIA operations throughout the middle and far east. Rawls was tough, no–nonsense and efficient. He could keep his mouth shut. And when he spoke, he said the right thing. He had no time and no use for loose talk. Loose talk gets people into trouble, he always said. Better to shut up in the first place than to be forced to explain details for something you didn’t shut up about when you should have.
Like most USFIA senior officers, Rawls was young, only thirty–seven, five years older than River. Still, Rawls possessed a reserve that was usually found only in a person twice his age. He handled himself, always, with discretion and confidence.
“You will contact me directly, regularly. The people of Saudi Arabia are wonderful. Their leaders are not. They are extremely dangerous. The people will follow their leaders, they will look to them for truth. If you’re exposed, the leaders will slam you, and the people will turn on you.
“You will be best off if you get to know the people and if you gain their trust. Remember, though, that if you let them down — if they find out who you really are — it’ll be over for you faster than you would be able to get to the airport to get out of here. You simply can’t screw up.
“This is a dangerous place. Remember that. Behind the order and efficient hum of the country, there’s a brutal governmental system that rules with an iron claw. The royal family’s power provides the certainty of societal order. Their power is absolute, and it is self–serving. The leaders trust no one. The old joke here is that the leaders’ grandmothers are not allowed to visit them at work unless they pass through a metal detector and pass a background check.” River laughed. Rawls didn’t.
“You will not be able to infiltrate this group at the mosque unless you have been in this country for years or unless you know a respected member of the mosque. You haven’t been here for years, and there’s no way around that. So, here it is: You have known a member of the mosque for twenty years; he is fully aware of your conversion six years ago, and he is fully aware of and can testify to your radical beliefs. Your friend will give you instant credibility.
“Who’s my friend?”
“His name is Amaad al Qatari. There’s a problem, though. We had no choice except to call him to service from the CIA as an agent for us. Our organization is too young to produce a planted long–time, and therefore trusted, member of a radical Islamic sect. You work for him. He’s the boss. You do whatever he says, and I mean that. Trust him completely.
“Get used to working for a CIA agent. I’m as concerned that one of you will kill the other arguing about USFIA/CIA politics as I am that one of you will be discovered for who you are and killed by our Saudi friends.
“Anyway, your friend has been laying the groundwork for your arrival and your participation with the group. Even given that, you have got to remember to move slowly. Remember the grandmother joke.” River didn’t laugh. Neither did Rawls.
“Go to the mosque and ask to meet al Qatari. He will immediately begin the process of acclimating you into the group. He will introduce you. Now listen carefully. Your name will not be River Warwick. It will be Dane Wyson Ward. Here are all of your papers—every form of I.D. you can imagine. Don’t ever slip and use River. And don’t even think of using an Arab– or Muslim–sounding nam
e. You are an American working in Medina, nothing more and nothing less. Don’t complicate matters. Keep it all simple.
“Al Qatari will not speak to you agent–to–agent. He’s good. You will not be able to tell the difference between him and an everyday radical. He never takes chances. So when you meet him, take on the identity you have been assigned and don’t ever expect him to step out of character. Never. He won’t do it. Do you have any questions?”
“Where will I live?”
“You will share a group home at the terror camp with al Qatari and his friends. They will all treat you like a brother… unless they suspect you of anything. If so, they will treat you differently, much differently.”
“How will they treat me if they suspect that I’m a fake.”
“Like a dead relative.” River didn’t laugh. Rawls smiled slightly.
“I’m here to meet a very dear friend of mine,” River sputtered out in the best Arabic he was able to piece together, which was not very good. “His name is al Qatari.”
“Please speak to me in English. I am better able to understand you if you do,” replied the worshiper in clear, fully understandable English. “Most of us here speak English.”
“Al Qatari is a good person, a good person. He loves Allah. He worships many times each day, and he hates Israel. There he is, over there,” the worshiper said.
River froze. Looking “over there,” Dane should have been able to pick his “very dear friend” out of the group and proceed over to him. The worshiper watched him, looking for his reaction. He didn’t suspect Dane of anything outrageous, but it was interesting to observe that he didn’t simply proceed in the direction of al Qatari.
Al Qatari had been expecting River, so when he happened to look over and see an American staring in his general direction, eyes glazed over, he gambled that his old friend was in trouble. He also gambled that River was, in fact, his old friend, Dane, from America.
“Dane, Dane,” al Qatari called out from the group.
River was stunned. Who was Dane? He forgot long enough to create an awkward, but not fully suspicious, stalled moment in time. It was only a second or two, but River hesitated and didn’t answer. Finally he realized who Dane was. The worshiper made a mental note of this initial awkward greeting.
“Amaad, how are you?” River called out with gusto.
“It is so good to see you again. I have missed you. You are a friend brought to me by Allah. Praise Allah for you. Praise Allah for you,” al Qatari said loudly and with great pride.
The two embraced, kissed each other on the cheeks, and traded robust compliments and various other physical gestures of greeting before al Qatari loudly and with fulness of heart proclaimed to all present that his friend had arrived. Allah had brought him to Medina to live and to participate in the cause.
“Come, come. We must talk. Come with me to the street. Come with me for a walk so I can get caught up on all you have been doing for Allah,” al Qatari said.
The worshiper who had greeted River interjected, stepping up to shake his hand and introduce himself. “I prefer to meet you formally, Mr. Dane,” the worshiper said calmly and inquisitively—still interested in what was behind the initial awkward greeting that took place a few moments before.
“My name is Dane Wyson Ward, River responded smoothly, as the two shook hands. “And you are?”
“Mohammad Aswaheri, and I am pleased to meet a brother of a brother. You and I should get to know one another. I would need to know you well.”
“Thank you, brother,” al Qatari said to Aswaheri.
“My brother, Dane, and I will go to the street now, find a restaurant and get something to eat and catch up on all that we’ve been blessed with since we last saw each other. We will return in time for the afternoon prayers.”
Though it was not considered to be upscale, the restaurant they went to was clean; no, not just clean. It was completely free from any smudges on the stainless steel, no dirt on the handles of the entrance doors. No grease buildup anywhere, on any surface. The floor glared at you with its shine. It was as if the walls were erected temporarily, for a promotional commercial to demonstrate in an exaggerated way the cleaning power of a commercial cleaning product.
Everything about this city and this nation spelled order and compliance, loud and clear, and this restaurant was a microcosm of its society. The waiters and waitresses worked in tandem. He would receive the larger portion of the tip. She would be awarded based on her demonstrated submission to the authority of the all–male management staff. Both of them risked their jobs literally each minute. Their supervisor watched their every move. They were retained based upon whether or not they worked with complete efficiency, not with the highest level of productivity, though. Productivity was considered to be an over–emphasized concept from the West.
Efficiency, order and respect—those were the attributes that kept the people of Medina employed. And their supervisors watched closely. Because the supervisors’ supervisors watched closely. And the royal family’s agents watched the supervisors’ supervisors closely. The royal family watched their agents closely. Things were orderly and tight in Saudi Arabia. Information about disruptions to order reached the top quickly, and they were dealt with efficiently and in short order.
“So, Dane, it is with the most excitement and love that I welcome you, my dear friend, to our country—my native land and your adopted land. It is great to have you here.”
“It’s… a… great to finally be here. I have so looked forward to —” River stammered and stumbled in his conversation with al Qatari. He was inclined to speak agent–to–agent, but that was strictly forbidden, so he caught himself and made a formal determination to adopt his new identity. “Allah is good. I am excited about getting on with the business of the cause and diving into the mission.”
“Yes, yes, my friend. Now, you will pay very close attention to me. We are meeting as a group to plan. Our planning sessions will begin soon, possibly in the next thirty days. I want you there, but the others will be wary of you. So you must gain their trust quickly.”
“Certainly. What would you have me to do to gain their trust?”
“Kill a suspected infiltrator, an apostate.”
River nearly choked on his lunch. “Please, please, take this back and bring me a simple wrap. Make it quickly. Less spice, please,” he said to the waiter.
“I am so sorry, sir, my deepest apologies. Was it not to your liking?” the waiter asked, as his supervisor made a note that this was this particular waiter’s second dissatisfied customer in thirty–four days. The waiters and waitresses were held accountable for all complaints.
“It was too spicy; it caused me to sneeze with a mouth full of food, so I choked.”
“Your wrap will be right out, sir. It will be perfect, I personally assure you of that.” The supervisor punched his stopwatch to begin its timer. The waiter had exactly six minutes to serve River’s wrap. If not, each minute over six would count as one dissatisfied customer to be added to the two on record. Three dissatisfied customers in forty–five days resulted in dismissal.
“So sorry that your food was not to your liking,” al Qatari said.
“There is an apostate that must be disposed of. You must take him out. Get rid of him,” al Qatari said pointedly, with an outward flickering of both of his hands, symbolically brushing away the apostate. “You will receive full instructions, and you will carry out the job within full view of others so there will be no doubt of your loyalty.”
River was pleased with himself. He believed that he was catching on.
“I am somewhat offended, but please, my good friend, don’t be hurt. It’s not that I would mind eliminating a Godless, useless fraud. That’s not what bothers me. What bothers me is that you do not trust me. You are making me prove myself.”
But River was not catching on at all. He believed that he was being clever, but that was the wrong thing to say, and, of course, al Qatari knew that it was a
major blunder.
“Big mouthed, know–it–all USFIA agents,” al Qatari thought to himself.
“Not at all, my friend. When I am asked to show my commitment to the fight, I am honored to do so,” al Qatari said, hinting that River should shut up and allow Dane to go along to demonstrate compliance and even gratitude at being asked to carry out a noble act.
Al Qatari gave River a few days to settle in before getting back to the subject of the murder. “Let’s finalize our plans, Dane,” al Qatari said to River, as they enjoyed a casual walk on the street, just outside the mosque. “You will be in the mosque. The apostate criminal will come into the prayer room — our most sacred place — and he will defile it with his fake prayers.
“You will lunge at him with a gun and escort him from the sacred place to the back of the mosque, along the long back wall. A few will follow the two of you out. A car will be waiting there for you. You will force him to lie on the ground, on a large steel plate you’ll see on the ground next to the wall. A car will be next to him. The car will be loaded with explosives. You will set the timer, exit the car, run as fast as you can away from the wall. The car will explode, killing the apostate instantly,” al Qatari explained.
“Where will I get the gun?”
“It will be handed to you when you enter the mosque for your prayers.”
“The authorities will be called to the scene, but you will be cleared on the spot for the killing because you will have killed an apostate. This is a killing that is justified, so there will be no charges brought against you. In fact, you will be celebrated as a hero,” al Qatari said. “No need to worry anyway. There will exist no traces of his body for anyone to inspect.
“Any questions?”
“Yes. Why the complicated plan with the car? Why not just a straight forward execution?”
“The entire thing will be filmed for terror training and will be broadcast out over the Internet to show others what they will eventually get for their life of apostasy. Tension and terror. We want maximum effect. The world fears our car bombs. They’re terrorized by them. The apostate will seem helpless as he lies on the ground between the wall and the car, blind–folded, waiting for the bomb to explode. It’s the effect that we’re after, the nightmare scenario that the world fears.”