“They also took the stone.”
“What’s that?”
“A black, square stone that we found in the same hidden space as the Quran.”
“The Kaaba?” I asked.
“The Kaaba stone is broken up into seven pieces and is held together by silver. This stone is intact. There’s only one Kaaba, and that’s in Mecca.”
“Did your captors ever communicate a reason for why they wanted an old Quran and a rock?”
“No, they hardly ever spoke to me. I was told to translate, or they would hurt me, so I translated.”
“You’re safe now,” said Migos, putting his hand on Sara’s arm.
Burnia turned to Jankowski and said, “Can you believe this? Migos is hitting on our precious cargo.”
“I’m not hitting on our PC; I’m just offering comfort. I’m showing empathy,” replied Migos.
“That’s creepy Migos. Seriously, nobody does that,” Jankowski said.
“Migos is being a gentleman. You shouldn’t make fun of him,” Sara said.
“We’ve rescued more than a few people. You’re the first Migos has empathized with. Definitely the first he’s helped out on the stove. He normally avoids work in any form,” Burnia said.
“Don’t forget the touchy-feely arm stroking; he’s definitely hitting on a kidnap victim. Has he told you yet about how he got his nickname, Muey Muey Migos?” asked Jankowski.
“Ignore them Sara; they in live my shadow. Sometimes they get so jealous they act inappropriately. You should see them in social situations. When either of these two tough guys has to talk to a girl, they stammer and they stutter. It’s painful to watch. Picture Urkel at a sorority party. I can’t even be polite to a woman, and they think I’m hitting on her. It’s very sad.”
I saw Sara smiling, something I bet she thought she would never do again. I went back upstairs to spot McDonald on the helm.
Chapter 9
Abu Dhabi, UAE
I waited at Bentley’s at the Galleria Mall in Maryah Island, Abu Dhabi, for Mike to arrive. I was seated by the bar, next to a window overlooking the water. Bentley’s has a bar whose ambience would do justice to aficionados of alcohol-serving sanctuaries in any major city. I nursed a beer while gazing out the window toward a thin strip of beach only two hundred yards away. The beach belonged to the Beach Rotana Hotel. Up until a couple of years ago, the Beach Rotana had a great view of the Arabian Gulf. Property rights aren’t a big thing in Arab monarchies. Maryah Island was constructed directly across from the hotel. The mall, hotel, and office buildings on the island now tower over the narrow strip of sand abutting the hotel. From my vantage point, the sunbathers resembled specimens at a zoo. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, so I couldn’t imagine how they felt. Fortunately, it would be dark soon.
A young Pinoy hostess approached the table with Mike in tow. I stood to greet him.
“What’s good here?”
“Start with the mac and cheese truffle or dynamite shrimp, and then go with the American Ribeye.”
“Mac and cheese, like Kraft Dinner?”
“Nothing like that. And the steak is the best in Abu Dhabi; you can cut it with your fork.”
“OK.”
“Did you come through the hotel or the mall entrance?”
“Mall.”
“What do you think of the place?”
“Definitely not a shopping destination for humble civil servants.”
“It’s crazy. It must be the highest concentration of the most expensive stores in the world.”
“It looks like the only people who shop at this mall are locals.”
“They’re pretty much the only ones who can afford it. When you look at the mall shoppers, it reminds me of dominoes.”
“Why dominoes?”
“The only two colors are black and white; the men are all in white kanduras and the woman are in all black abayas. Think of the irony. Every outrageously expensive designer clothing label in the world is located in this tiny little chichi mall, and the only people who shop here are monochromatic. Not only limited to black and white, but they can only wear two styles of clothing, one for boys and one for girls.”
“Who’s buying all the flashy designs with the fancy labels?”
“They are, but they can’t wear them except when they travel.”
“It’s hard to understand these people sometimes. A mystery wrapped inside a riddle or something like that.”
“Churchill’s line about the Russians. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Speaking of which—did you ever figure out why a Turkish hate group stole an old holy book?”
“We have a theory.”
Mike waited for the wine steward to serve the wine before continuing.
“The Quran and the stone have been delivered to Hamas.”
“How do you know that?”
“Reliable human source.”
“Why?”
“To attack Saudi Arabia.”
“I don’t follow; explain?”
“The average American believes the big conflict in the Middle East is between the Arabs and the Jews.
“People familiar with the Region understand a conflict of almost equal magnitude exists between the Sunni and Shia Muslim Sects.
“There is a third Muslim conflict that gets much less attention in the West, and that’s the fight between the two major Sunni groups, the Wahhabis and the Muslim Brotherhood,” Mike said.
“It gets hard to keep all of the acrimony straight. They say Irish Alzheimer’s is when you forget everything but the grudges. But, compared to the Arabs, the Irish are the most forgiving people in the world.”
“Exactly, which is why the Saudis and Emiratis are on a slow simmer towards war with Turkey and Qatar at the moment.”
“Who’s going to win?” Pat asked.
“The Muslim Brotherhood has a more popular message for the masses. On the other hand, the Wahhabi message is better funded with petro-dollars. The Brotherhood is growing, and they’ve won elections in Turkey, Palestine, and Egypt. It’s a more persuasive message-classic class warfare and wealth redistribution. Of the two Salafist groups, the Brotherhood is much more practical politically than Wahhabism; that’s why the Arab Spring and the democratic elections that followed swept the Brotherhood leaders into office.”
“What’s the story on the Quran and the rock?”
“The conflict between the Saudis, the UAE, and the Brotherhood has been steadily building. They’ve cut off most trade to Turkey. Erdogan, the Turkish President, has been getting into some hot arguments with the both the UAE and Saudis. In the past, the Saudi-UAE coalition used military and financial support to reign in the Brotherhood movement in Egypt and Palestine. Since that hasn’t worked, they’re escalating. They have a complete embargo of Qatar. The latest plan is to build a moat around Qatar; can you believe that?”
“I heard. That’s unreal—a forty-mile canal cutting them off from the Arabian Peninsula.”
“The conflict is not only external. MBS, the new Saudi Crown Prince, is making a lot of enemies with his liberalization of the culture— movie theaters, relaxed dress codes, reigning in the religious police. Many of the Muslim faithful are now openly questioning if the Saudi leadership is worthy of the honor of being the keeper of the faith and protector of the twin Holy Cities of Mecca and Medina.”
“I know many people in the region think Ibn Saud was a British lapdog. They believe King Abdullah, who’s a direct descendant of the Prophet Mohammed, should be the one to reign over what is now called Saudi Arabia.”
“Exactly. They believe the Hashemites are the rightful owners of Arabia, and that the British betrayed them and supported Ibn Saud when he forced them into Jordan. They think the Saudis are weak puppets of the West and are growing weaker. They see the recent liberalization as evidence of this weakness. The improved relations between Saudi and Israel are considered even further proof of this. Many Muslims are furious that the Saudis were
silent when the US moved our embassy to Jerusalem.”
“So how do an old book and a rock fit in?”
“We think there is a move afoot, led by the Brotherhood, to move the Qibla to Al-Masjid Al-Aqsa in Jerusalem. They’ll use the Quran discovered in St. Simeon Cathedral as the religious justification. They’ll also emplace the stone discovered at the Cathedral at the Al-Masjid Mosque. They’ll claim it’s the sister stone to the one in Mecca.”
“Is it?” Pat asked.
“The Kaaba stone has never been analyzed. Supposedly, it came from a meteorite. But nobody knows. Muslims believe the stone was originally white and became black because it absorbs the sins of those who touch it. The claim that it’s the sister stone can’t be proved. However, the provenance of the artifacts from St. Simeon is pretty solid; they definitely originated in Mecca. Most likely, the items were moved from Mecca by the Ottomans. Why and when is still a mystery, but it doesn’t matter. If the imams loyal to the Brotherhood across the Muslim world declare Jerusalem as the new Qibla, it’s very possible much of Islam will follow.”
“Why?”
“The only reason 1.3 billion pray facing Mecca every day is because they believe Allah told Mohammed to in a revelation. If a book that predates the Uthman Quran has a revelation from the Almighty that says otherwise, that might change things. The reason the Qibla was moved to Jerusalem temporarily during Prophet Mohammed’s time was because a hostile invading force was occupying Mecca. Some already argue that the corrupt Saudi regime is a hostile force to the faith, so if shifting to Jerusalem is what was done during a hostile occupation before, why not now?”
“Why do we care if half of the Muslims face Jerusalem and the other half face Mecca?”
“If that’s all that happened, we wouldn’t. We think that might be enough to touch off another Arab-Israeli war.”
“Who is ‘we’?” I asked.
“The State Department, the C.I.A, even some of the allies we’ve consulted.”
“What’s being done?”
“Diplomacy, mostly. We know there’s an information campaign being waged among the religious leaders and there are efforts being made to counter it.”
“Where are the book and the stone now? You said Hamas had them.”
“Hamas is another Brotherhood affiliate, and both are in Jerusalem somewhere.”
“What’s going to happen next?”
“A bunch of Sunni clerics is going to announce Al-Masjid Al-Aqsa as the new Qibla, and then all hell is going to break loose.”
“Do the Saudis know all of this is going on?”
“Yes, we told them.”
“Maybe the Saudis should make nice with the Brotherhood. Bury the hatchet, so to speak.”
“They’re having difficulty keeping their own people under control. A good chunk of their own population doesn’t believe the Saudi leadership is worthy. Possible scenarios of how this plays out include a civil war in Saudi. The Wahhabis aren’t too thrilled about MBS’s liberalization efforts and the Saudi economy is in the pits and will stay there unless oil busts eighty dollars a barrel.”
“Where’s Jordan in all of this?”
“We informed them of the situation and they’ve pledged to support the Saudis.”
“This would be a good time for the UAE and Saudi to spread some money around.”
“That’s exactly what they’re doing.”
“What about me? What do you need from Trident?”
“I need you to start working on a plan to take the artifacts back from the Brotherhood.”
“You said Hamas has them in Israel.”
“Yeah, that’s it. We don’t know much more than that.”
Chapter 10
London
Prince Turki looked out at the green expanse of Hyde Park from the balcony of his Kensington mansion. It was a bright, sunny spring morning with the Park lawn a lush green and the trees and flowers in full bloom. The London commuters were out in force enjoying a respite from what had been a record-setting cold and snowy winter. Despite the warmth of the sun, a cold chill ran down his spine, as he couldn’t shake the memory of lying on the floor of the deep freeze at the Ritz.
Tiffany, his regular London companion, came to him with a cup of black tea. He took the cup and saucer and laid it on the rail. The former runway and magazine model was thirty years his junior. She spoke with a perfect upper-class London accent, despite being a recent immigrant from Estonia. The statuesque blonde was one of his many expensive hobbies, but even she wouldn’t be able to distract him on this day.
“You have a visitor. He’s waiting for you in the den.”
“Tell him I’ll be down in a moment.”
The Prince drank his tea while gazing down at the pedestrians bustling on the sidewalk as they made their way to work. The sun reflecting off the Prince Albert Statue within the Park reminded him of his nemesis who was also a prince. Prince Turki finished his tea and made his way to the elevator to meet his guest on the ground floor.
Dressed casually in pants and a polo shirt, the Prince greeted his guest. A servant entered the room and he quickly dismissed him with a hand wave. He waited until the heavy oak door was closed before beginning the conversation.
“MBS is alive,” Prince Turki said.
“How do you know?” replied the Egyptian.
“I have sources. Prince Mohamed Bin Salem was wounded in the attack. He’s recovering in his Palace in Jedda.”
“We’ll make another attempt.”
“No, you’ll take no further action. Besides yourself, how many other people had knowledge of the attack?”
“Most of the attackers were killed during the fight. None of them can be traced to me, which means they can’t be traced to you. Four of the men who took part in the attack escaped; they’re all in Djibouti in hiding.”
“Kill everyone who participated in the attack or who had any knowledge of the plan. Destroy all documents connecting us. If you do that, I will pay you the second half of your contract.” The Egyptian was stunned. He dropped his head and wiped his brow with his hand.
“I can’t. Those men are loyal, and they fought valiantly. My men were outgunned from the moment they entered the Palace grounds. It was a phenomenal achievement to even get close enough to the Crown Prince to wound him. You should be rewarding my men, not disposing of them like trash.”
“Then I’ll use the ten million from the second half of the contract and pay someone else to do the job and you can be sure your name will be the first on the list.”
The heavy-set Egyptian wiped his brow again, this time with a napkin from the silver coffee service displayed in front of him on the coffee table. He was silent for a full minute.
“I will do as you ask.”
“Forget you ever met me. Understand the stakes are very high. I have three sons, one daughter, and eleven grandchildren living inside the Kingdom. My family is being kept prisoner, denied permission to leave. If MBS even suspects I’m the one responsible for the attempt on his life, he’ll retaliate. You don’t want to be the person responsible for harm coming to my family.”
The bald, sweat-soaked Egyptian trembled as he stood up from his chair. He extended his hand, but Prince Turki did not accept it. Hiring the former Egyptian General to exact his revenge had been a mistake. The plan had been hastily conceived, driven by emotion and rushed into execution. The General lacked creativity, relying on brute force instead of deception and stealth. He regretted ever setting the plan into motion. Now the entire security apparatus of the Saudi government was alert and focused on tracking the people who were behind the assassination attempt. Eventually, if uninterrupted, the truth would be revealed. He hoped the Saudi investigation would take months and provide enough time for his better, more elaborate and less direct plan to reach completion.
Chapter 11
Ankara, Turkey
Omer Aslan was sitting at the desk in his study. It was the third week of the Holy Month of Ramadan and heavy ba
gs had formed under his eyes from a lack of sleep, thirst, and hunger. Observant to all five daily prayers, Omer had not slept more than four hours at any one time during the fasting period. Abstaining from water and food for more than fifteen hours each day had taken a toll, but at the same time, he found the experience spiritually and physically enriching. Unlike many of his gluttonous co-religionists who gain weight during the fast, his meals during Ramadan were meager and his weight loss significant.
His office was decorated with artifacts of the Ottoman Empire. He had two fifteenth-century suits of armor with the distinctive Turkish spiked helmets, chain mail, and curved scimitars of the period. Many of the artifacts were sculptures and earthenware which he displayed on wooden shelves lining two of the walls. The third wall contained a bookshelf filled with historical tomes and the fourth wall was all glass, with a sliding door that led into the courtyard of his estate. The home was made of sandstone and bore a very strong resemblance to a medieval castle, complete with towers and ramparts.
He received Prince Turki’s emissary in the small sitting area next to the entertainment center. He greeted the man with a handshake.
“His Royal Highness requests a status report,” said the man whose name he did not know.
“The artifacts are in Jerusalem. On the holy day of Eid Al Fitr, there will be a groundswell of imams across the Muslim world, both Sunna and Shia, who will proclaim the Qibla as Jerusalem.”
“How many imams?”
“Thousands, including many of the most influential Islamic scholars.”
“How can you be sure?”
“We have brought the message to the people and it has been well received. My sources are reliable. The liberalization actions of the Saudi Crown Prince are an insult to Islam, abhorrent to many. The clarity of the revelation and authenticity of the book cannot be contested. Those three factors have proved to be very convincing. Members of our movement have been involved with lengthy discussions with the faithful. We have received assurances.”
“All Salafists?”
“Not all, but many.”
“What of the Shia?”
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