by Brad Thor
“That’s it. I’m just a messenger. Seriously,” he said.
Harvath believed him, but he still frisked him and had him sit tight. Next he turned his attention to the other man. “How do you know Carolyn Leonard?”
“I’m the one who tipped her that Matthew Dodd was hunting you in Paris.”
“You know who we are?”
“Scot Harvath and Anthony Nichols,” replied the man. “But anything else should be discussed away from here,” he added as the sound of sirens grew closer. “I don’t want to spend the day being interrogated by the cops.”
“Where are you parked?” asked Harvath.
“Close,” replied the man.
A few minutes later, Harvath and Nichols climbed into the man’s black SUV. As it started up and pulled away from the curb, Harvath pulled out his BlackBerry. Keeping his weapon trained on the driver, he dialed Carolyn Leonard’s number.
When she answered he said, “Carolyn, it’s Scot Harvath. I have somebody here who says he’s a friend of yours.” Looking at the man he demanded, “What’s your name?”
With his eyes sweeping for any signs that the police were following them, he replied, “Aydin Ozbek. I work for the CIA.”
CHAPTER 67
Harvath didn’t know whether to laugh and admire the man’s audacity, or break his jaw for using them as bait.
“So you knew Marwan Khalifa was dead, that Dodd was most likely the person using his e-mail account, and yet you decided not to give us any heads-up whatsoever?” asked Harvath.
“If I had, you wouldn’t have gone to the meet,” replied Ozbek.
“Of course we wouldn’t!” exclaimed Nichols.
Harvath didn’t need the professor’s help on this. “Just check that thumb drive,” he said.
They were sitting in a small Internet café in Virginia. Leonard had vouched for Ozbek over the phone, but Harvath had insisted on a visual. His cell phone didn’t have a camera, so the final ID was achieved via a webcam at the café. The other reason Harvath had selected the café was because of the content of the envelope the messenger had brought for Nichols—a large-capacity flash drive.
“I’m telling you,” said Ozbek. “You were set up. Right down to the messenger. You think it was a coincidence that he bore such a resemblance to Dodd?”
Harvath looked at him. “Maybe from where you were standing, but from where I stood, he was an average, unremarkable guy. I think you over-reacted.”
“He picked that guy in order to flush us out.”
“Us?” said Harvath. “I was standing out in the open already.”
“He wanted to see if anyone was on to him and if so, how many people they saw fit to send after him. Everything Dodd does has a reason. Trust me.”
“If all of that’s true, then you played right into his hands by jumping that messenger, didn’t you?” said Harvath.
Ozbek ignored the remark. “That flash drive is a trap,” he stated. “You know it is. Why would you want to keep it?”
“There’s no harm in seeing what’s on it. It might have material that was supposed to convince us that he really was Khalifa.”
“To what end? You said yourself that in the e-mails he sent Professor Nichols he was probing, trying to figure out how far along you are with your own assignment. I’m telling you that flash drive is trouble.”
“Listen,” said Harvath, “the drive could very well contain a Trojan horse of some sort. I agree. That’s why we’re using a public computer. If the drive is an attempt to sneak in and snoop around, we don’t have to worry about it.”
Nichols looked up from his terminal and said, “Everything looks like it’s in Arabic. I can’t read any of this.”
“Let me see,” said Ozbek.
While Harvath was a proficient Arabic speaker, his reading ability had never been as strong as he would have liked. “Be my guest.”
Ozbek studied a few of the files for a moment and then asked, “What’s the Great Mosque of Sana’a?”
“It’s a project Marwan was working on in Yemen,” replied Nichols. “It was a trove of documents, scrolls, and pieces of parchment believed to have been from the earliest Korans known to Islam.”
“There are descriptions of digital pictures and other items referenced as having been ‘archived’ or ‘preserved.’ Is this what he was working on in Rome?”
Nichols was still in shock from having learned that his friend and colleague had been killed, and his voice shook when he spoke about him. “He told me that it was one of the most exciting projects he had ever been involved with. He kept saying that the timing had been divinely ordained. I was miles away from anything in my research at the time, but he was confident that our two projects were going to come together at precisely the right moment and that what had been uncovered in Sana’a would lend even more legitimacy to the project I was working on.”
“And what exactly have you been working on?” asked Ozbek. “I understand why a Muslim radical like Dodd would want to kill Marwan Khalifa, but why you? Why go through so much trouble to kill an expert on Thomas Jefferson?”
Nichols looked to Harvath for whether or not he should answer that question.
“Not here,” replied Harvath.
“Where then?” Ozbek asked.
“You’ll see when we get there. In the meantime, I want all those documents printed out before we leave. I’m not letting that flash drive touch any of our computers.”
CHAPTER 68
It was several hours later when Ozbek took a break from the reams of Arabic documents he was studying from the mysterious flash drive and came into the kitchen.
“How’s it going?” asked Harvath. He was sitting at the kitchen table going over some information Nichols had brought in for him to look at. He filled him in that Lawlor had finally smoothed things over at the academy and was on his way back. He had taken a statement from the messenger, but it didn’t look like the man was going to provide any information that could be useful.
Ozbek pulled a beer out of the fridge, and Harvath signaled that he’d take one as well. He knew that having one of the operatives under Ozbek’s command killed and another put in the hospital with a very bad gunshot wound had been extremely hard on him. Green Berets were tough, but they were also human and cared deeply about the people they fought and served alongside.
“Khalifa was definitely on to something,” said Ozbek, referring to the documents that had been printed from the flash drive as he joined Harvath at the table. “The problem is that the information is incomplete. He talks about certain pieces of manuscript, but there’s no backup for it, no source.”
“Are you surprised?” said Harvath as he took a sip.
“Not really. It’s just enough information to whet your thirst, but nowhere near enough to quench it.”
“A hearty fuck-you from Mr. Dodd and his Islamist friends.”
Ozbek nodded and took a pull from his beer. “Considering the Italian State Archives all but burned to the ground, Khalifa’s copies of the Sana’a find are probably all that’s left. So if Dodd does have Khalifa’s computer, we can forget about any of it ever seeing the light of day.”
“Which makes the professor’s work even more important.”
“You know,” said Ozbek as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs, “this whole Jefferson story is amazing. If it’s true, Khalifa’s work really wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I mean it would have been a nice complement, but an actual missing revelation from the Koran that Mohammed’s closest confidants assassinated him over will be earthshaking in and of itself.”
Harvath agreed. “If it’s handled properly, it could tank the fundamentalists and propel the moderates into true control over their religion. The war on terror could be all but won.”
Ozbek nodded knowingly and took a sip of his beer. “Despite how confusing and contradictory I find that religion, I’ve worked with lots of good Muslim people. Frankly, I don’t think it can ever hack off the Islamist
cancer without a huge bombshell being detonated from within. I really hope Professor Nichols finds what he’s looking for.”
“Speaking of which,” replied Harvath as he picked up several of the pages Nichols had decoded and given him to study, “I think he’s getting very close. Have you ever heard of a Muslim inventor named al-Jazari?”
CHAPTER 69
Harvath reached for a box of matches from the study’s mantelpiece. It was going to be a cold night. If he didn’t start a fire now, the room would never get warm. It was both a drawback and part of the charm of living in such a historic structure.
Once the fire was going, Harvath took a seat near the desk where the professor was working, picked up the puzzle box, and asked, “Now that you have decoded some of Jefferson’s notes, how does al-Jazari fit into all of this?”
Nichols scanned several pages on the desk until he found the one he was looking for. “Al-Jazari’s work was well known throughout the Islamic world and his inventions were highly coveted. Like da Vinci, al-Jazari relied on patronage as well as commissions for his livelihood.
“Also like da Vinci, al-Jazari was a dedicated man of science. Even as early as the twelfth century, Muslim scientists and academics were aware of multiple errors throughout the Koran such as Mohammed’s incorrect explanations of the workings of the human body, the earth, the stars, and the planets, which he had communicated as being the true words of God. There were also the satanic verses.”
Harvath knew all too well about the satanic verses. Desperate to make peace with his family’s tribe, the Quraysh, Mohammed claimed that it was legitimate for Muslims to pray before the Quraysh’s three pagan goddesses as intercessors before Allah.
But when Mohammed realized what he had done and how he had compromised his monotheism to get his family’s tribe to join him, he took it all back and claimed the devil had put the words in his mouth. The abrupt about-face acted like gasoline being poured on a smoldering fire with the Quraysh and remained a fascinating retraction, which many throughout history, Salman Rushdie included, have found quite notable.
“There is belief that, like da Vinci,” continued Nichols, “al-Jazari was skeptical of the infallibility of the faith that dominated the society in which he lived.
“Supposedly, when al-Jazari first learned the story of Mohammed’s final revelation and its exclusion from the Koran, he became obsessed with finding it.”
“And did he?” asked Harvath.
Nichols took a breath. “According to what Thomas Jefferson uncovered, yes, he did.”
Harvath waited for the professor to continue.
“Al-Jazari’s notoriety and not insignificant celebrity provided him access to anyone and everyone throughout the Muslim world. He traveled far and wide and met with Muslim heads of state as well as their ministers, scientists, and court officials, as well as merchants, pirates, traders, and numerous scholars.
“By al-Jazari’s time, Mohammed’s final revelation was thought by many who knew the tale to be no more than a myth; more fiction than fact. If such a thing truly existed, why hadn’t it been brought to light?
“Al-Jazari supposed that if Mohammed had indeed had a final revelation that got him assassinated, then there still could have been forces in the Muslim world that would kill to keep it quiet. If these same forces got their hands on it, the revelation would undoubtedly be destroyed.
“So al-Jazari went looking among the people most likely to know about the revelation and where it might be hidden—the scientists and scholars of his day. The more he probed, the more he believed the secret was being kept alive somewhere.
“It took him many years, many journeys, and many intrigues but al-Jazari finally located it—the original copy of Mohammed’s final revelation as dictated to his chief secretary and sealed by the prophet himself shortly before he died.”
“Where did he find it?” asked Harvath.
Nichols shook his head. “I haven’t decoded that part of Jefferson’s notes yet. What I have decoded, however, says that al-Jazari was so impacted by what he read that he was moved to make sure the revelation was preserved and passed on to those who thirsted for the truth.
“The Islamic tradition is pretty well known for the penalty it imposes on those who blaspheme Islam or apostasize themselves from the faith.”
“Death,” replied Harvath.
“Exactly. There are many lay people and scholars alike, both within and without the Muslim community, who feel that the pure, orthodox Islam of the fundamentalists could never survive outside the context of its seventh-century Arabian origins. Apply twenty-first-century science, logic, or humanistic reasoning to it and it falls apart.
“They believe this is why Islam has always relied so heavily on the threat of death. Question Islam, malign Islam, or leave Islam and you will be killed. It is a totalitarian modus operandi that silences all dissent and examination, thereby protecting the faith from ever having to defend itself.
“It’s no wonder that those who knew about Mohammed’s final revelation were so careful not to reveal it.”
“But al-Jazari did,” said Harvath, “right?”
“Yes,” said the professor. “Even if it might not ever be widely disseminated, al-Jazari wanted to make sure that those Muslims who sought the truth about their religion and its patriarch would always be able to find it; even if they had to work hard to do it.”
“I’m guessing that Jefferson had to work hard at it too.”
“According to his journals,” replied Nichols, “the task was extremely difficult. He did, though, have one of the best resources in the world at his disposal: the United States Marine Corps.”
“To the shores of Tripoli,” Harvath said as he remembered their conversation in Paris.
“Precisely,” replied Nichols. “In his diary, Jefferson recounted how in 1805 he sent Army officer William Eaton along with a contingent of Marines under Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon to attack Tripoli and depose the pasha, who had declared war on the United States. It was America’s first battle to take place on foreign soil.
“Eaton recruited the pasha of Tripoli’s brother, Hamet, the rightful heir to the Tripolitanian throne who was in exile in Egypt, to aid in a little eighteenth-century regime change. Their target was the wealthy and highly fortified port city of Derna.
“After an hour of heavy bombardment from the USS Nautilus, Hornet, and Argus, under the command of Captain Isaac Hull, Hamet led his soldiers southwest to cut off the road to Tripoli while the Marines and the rest of their hired mercenaries attacked the harbor fortress.
“Many of Derna’s Muslim soldiers were terrified of the Marines and quickly retreated, leaving their cannons and rifles unfired.
“Through the chaos and pandemonium in the streets, a small unit of Marines split off from their colleagues on a top secret assignment from President Jefferson. Their job was to infiltrate the governor’s palace. There was a small snag, though.
“Over the objection of Lieutenant O’Bannon, Hamet and his Arab mercenaries had identified the governor’s palace as their second objective after securing the road to Tripoli.
“O’Bannon’s contingent of Marines was told they had to get in and get out before Hamet and his men arrived. Their primary objective was to recover a very important item for the president.”
“Let me guess,” said Harvath. “This very important item had something to do with al-Jazari.”
Nichols nodded. “The Marines fought run-and-gun, as well as hand-to-hand, battles all the way to the governor’s palace. Like their fellow Marines fighting at the harbor, their bravery was unparalleled and would set the standard for every Marine action from then on.
“Within an hour and fifteen minutes of the initial ground assault, Lieutenant O’Bannon raised the American flag over the harbor fortress. It was the first time the stars and stripes had ever been flown over battlements outside of the Atlantic. Shortly thereafter, O’Bannon’s covert Marine unit returned, having successfully completed t
heir assignment.
“After holding the city and repelling a counterattack, Eaton wanted to press farther into Tripoli, but Jefferson held him back, preferring instead to conclude a peace treaty and secure the release of all Americans being held in Tripoli, in particular the crew of the USS Philadelphia, which had run aground in Tripoli Harbor eighteen months before.
“Though Eaton, like O’Bannon and his Marines, returned home a hero he always felt that Jefferson had sold him out. He never knew of the Marines’ covert operation and the real reason for attacking Derna.
“An interesting footnote is that after the victory, Prince Hamet presented Lieutenant O’Bannon with a scimitar used by his Mameluke tribesmen in appreciation of his courage and that of his Marines. This is the model for the saber the Marines still carry to this day.”
Harvath stood up, set the puzzle box on the desk, and walked over to place another log on the fire. “Even as a Navy man,” he said, “I’m willing to admit that the Marines have an impressive lineage.
“What’s interesting, though, is that I’ve never heard about the covert operation at Derna.”
“Nobody has,” replied Nichols. “Not even Congress. I just decoded Jefferson’s writings about it. Per his orders, the Marines took the secret with them to their graves.”
“So what about the item they were sent to retrieve from the governor’s palace in Derna? What happened to it?”
The professor swept his hand over his notes and replied, “That’s the mystery we need to unravel.”
CHAPTER 70
“We now know,” said Nichols, “that what lay within the governor’s palace had been created by al-Jazari, had something to do with Mohammed’s final revelation, and had supposedly been there since Cervantes was a prisoner in neighboring Algiers. We also know that O’Bannon’s Marines succeeded in finding it and bringing it back to Thomas Jefferson. What it specifically was and what happened to it from there is what we need to find out.