Sword of God

by Chris Kuzneski

  According to Islamic scholars, Muhammad was born in Mecca in 570 AD. He was orphaned by age six and eventually lived with his uncle, Abu Talib, who was the leader of the Banu Hashim, one of the clans in the Quraish tribe. At the time, Mecca was a thriving economic center, partly because of the Kaaba, the great Islamic shrine that Muslims still worship, which attracted throngs of merchants during the pilgrimage season because violence between the various tribes was outlawed. Muhammad eventually became a merchant himself, traveling to Syria and other parts of the world, opening his eyes to many beliefs and cultures.

  During his middle years, Muhammad often retreated to the peak of Jabal al-Nour near Mecca to fast and meditate. In 610 AD, while inside the Cave of Hira, he received his first revelation from God, delivered to him by the Archangel Gabriel. At first, most people were skeptical— including Muhammad himself—but when the revelations continued, he began to preach and eventually attracted a small band of followers that continued to grow until his death.

  Despite his privileged upbringing, Muhammad never learned how to read or write; therefore it was incumbent on his companions to record his recitations, often on pieces of loose parchment or whatever materials they could find, including leafstalks of date palms and scapula bones.

  Remarkably, during his lifetime, Muhammad’s revelations were never bound into a single book.

  The modern form of the Qur’an is widely attributed to Uthman ibn Affan, the third caliph of Islam, who formed a committee to compile a standard version of the holy book, based on all the teachings they could find. Upon its completion sometime around 650 AD, Uthman sent a copy to every Muslim city and town and ordered all other versions of the Qur’an destroyed, his way of guaranteeing a unified message.

  Unfortunately, despite the claims of some, many modern-day historians doubt that any of Uthman’s original copies have survived. Some feel the oldest existing Qur’an was written in the eighth century, nearly a hundred years after the Uthman version was distributed. Barely a blip on the radar screen in terms of human evolution, but a wide chasm in religious history. Obviously, many Islamic scholars have wondered what changes might have occurred during that century. Even the slightest alteration of syntax could have a profound effect on Muhammad’s original message, thereby affecting an entire religion.

  One of those scholars was Shari Shasmeen, who had spent many years searching for one of Uthman’s Qur’ans, only to have her dream crushed at every turn. That is, until she received a phone call from Abdul-Khaliq, who implied that he might have found something better.

  Something so astounding that it dwarfed what she had been looking for.

  The guard made all of the arrangements on an encrypted cell phone. He spoke with his crew. He ordered equipment. He coordinated times and places. If this was going to work, there could be no mistakes. Nothing could be overlooked. Everything had to be perfect.

  He glanced at his watch and noted the time.

  Right on schedule.

  Now all he had to figure out was what to do with that bitch archaeologist. She was going to be a problem—he could tell that already. The way she fought back when he tried to take her keys. The way she stared at him. Defiant. Unyielding. The exact opposite of what he expected from a Muslim woman. Weren’t they supposed to bend to the authority of men?

  In a perfect World, he would slit her throat and dump her in the same place they took Nasir. That would make things much easier, giving him all the time he needed to accomplish his mission. But her death would bring too many questions. Questions he didn’t have time to answer. At least for now. In the near future that was bound to change, and the moment it did he would teach her a lesson about the power of man.

  Until then, he would simply have to work around her.

  22

  Payne closed his eyes for just a moment. When he woke up, it was two hours later, and Kia was standing in front of him, quietly whispering his name. Her hair was done, her makeup perfect. A light floral scent filled the air. She wore a tight black sweater and even tighter jeans, which showed off her feminine figure, something Payne hadn’t noticed until that very instant. Stylish black boots and simple earrings finished her outfit.

  “Wow,” he said, searching for adjectives. “You look great.”

  She beamed at the compliment. “Thanks.” He stared at her for a few more seconds, temporarily at a loss for words, a combination of grogginess and unexpected thoughts. “How long was I out?”

  “Not as long as D.J. He’s still sleeping in the other room.”

  “That’s because he’s old and creaky. Not a world-class athlete like I am.” Payne held out his hands for Kia to grab. “Now do me a favor and help me up.”

  She grunted as she pulled him to his feet, pretending it took all the strength she could muster. Despite her tall heels, she was still several inches shorter than he was. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving.”

  “In that case, why don’t you get cleaned up and take me out to dinner?”

  He laughed. “Wow, you’re being kind of forward, aren’t you?”

  “Not really. You’re the one taking me to dinner. So you’re the one who’s out of line.”

  Payne smiled. “I guess I am.”

  “But don’t worry, I’m not going to report you. I mean, you did save my life today.”

  Thirty minutes later they were walking into one of the restaurants at the Black Stone, where they were given a window seat that overlooked the Yellow Sea. Compliments of Mr. Lee. Payne was dressed comfortably in jeans and a dress shirt, not as formal as the other diners, but nobody seemed to care. Everyone was too busy eating and drinking, soaking in the atmosphere, to pay much attention to them. The entire dining room was bathed in candlelight and romance.

  “Thank God we’re alone,” Payne joked as he helped her with her chair. “If D.J. was here, he’d probably get liquored up and try to kiss me.”

  “Please don’t remind me. Been there, done that.”

  “That’s right. I almost forgot about the kiss! That was, what? Almost two days ago?”

  She did the math in her head. “Oh, wow. That seems so long ago. Two days doesn’t seem possible. Two weeks, maybe. Not two days.”

  “Well, that’s something you’ll learn. Clocks tick at a different rate of speed in the field.”

  Kia paused while a busboy filled their glasses with water. “Speaking of the field, I’d like to officially apologize for my behavior. I shouldn’t have wandered away from the cave without telling you where I was going. I put you in an awkward position, one where you had to swoop in and rescue me. I never should’ve let that happen.”

  “Don’t worry about it. In fact, I should be thanking you for your efforts. There’s no way we could’ve gotten Kim to talk without your help. He opened up because of you.”

  She smiled, appreciative of his praise.

  “Of course, that being said, you might want to stay a little bit closer in the future.”

  Her smile grew wider. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  It was a rhetorical question but a good question nonetheless. The truth was Payne didn’t know why she was there. There had been some innocent flirting during the past hour, but up until then he had viewed Kia as a member of his squad. Nothing more. Now all of a sudden he was sitting across from her, staring at her in candlelight as waves crashed upon the rocky shore, romantic thoughts dancing through his head. He had never been put in this position before, working so closely with a beautiful woman. He wasn’t sure where to draw the line.

  Hell, he didn’t even know if a line was necessary.

  In reality, he was no longer in the military, meaning he was no longer bound by their strict rules and codes in regard to social interaction. Still, she viewed him as a superior; there was no doubt about that. However, he wasn’t sure if that was even important on such a temporary assignment. For all he knew, their official mission—to rescue Schmidt and his men—was already over. So if something happened between them,
was there really any harm?

  To him, it was a question that needed to be answered before he’d let anything progress.

  “You know,” Kia said, breaking the silence, “this isn’t my first trip to Jeju. When I was a young girl, my father brought me here to see the haenyo, the women divers of the island.” She pointed out the window to the Yellow Sea, where three yachts, their lights twinkling against the horizon, floated on the rolling darkness. “To watch them work was amazing. Most of them were in their forties or fifties, but some were in their sixties or seventies. They’d tie rocks to their belts and jump into the deep water, sometimes sinking more than twenty meters down to the ocean floor, where they’d collect abalone and sea urchins and a variety of other treasures. They’d stay down there for several minutes, longer than I thought was possible to hold one’s breath, before they’d untie the rocks and swim back to the surface with baskets full of goods.”

  She took a sip of water before continuing. “For some reason it’s taboo on the island for men to do any diving. No one’s really sure why. Some say it’s because women have more fat on their bodies, which allows them to endure the cold waters of the deep. Others say it’s because women are more buoyant, allowing them to swim to the surface faster after filling their baskets. But whatever the reason, they’re some of the best divers in the world. Male or female.”

  Payne nodded in agreement. He had heard stories about the women divers of Korea but didn’t know they were based here. Some Navy SEALs even used their breathing techniques.

  “To be honest,” she continued, “that’s one of the reasons I pushed so hard for this assignment. I’ve been a translator for many years, working for military bases around the world, but I’ve always wanted to work in the field. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Sadly, I never had the guts to pursue any openings until this assignment became available. As soon as I heard Jeju, I figured a higher power was telling me something. My father brought me here to learn from these courageous women. Now I have a chance to show some courage of my own.”

  He smiled at her story, glad to know something about her background that wasn’t found in a personnel file. “I have to admit I was skeptical at first. But truthfully, things have worked out well. Of course, I’m still not sure how you convinced Harrington to give you a chance. There had to be dozens of other applicants who spoke Korean.”

  “There probably were. But unlike most of them, I’m also pretty good with Arabic.”

  Payne froze, his warning sensors going off. “Excuse me?”

  “I speak Korean, Arabic, Japanese—”

  “Hold up.” Payne glanced around to make sure no one was listening. He lowered his voice just to be safe. “Arabic was one of your requirements?”

  She nodded. “Korean and Arabic, though I’m not sure why Arabic was so important. It’s not very common in this part of the world.”

  “Sonofabitch!” Payne mumbled. A major piece of the puzzle had just fallen into his lap, and he needed to act on it immediately. “Kia, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for dinner.”

  “We don’t?”

  “No,” he said as he stood from the table. “We have to leave now.”

  23

  Payne hustled back to his suite, where he roused Jones from his nap. Meanwhile, Kia was dispatched to find Mr. Lee, whose local knowledge might come in handy.

  Jones said, “You’re telling me Arabic was a requirement of her job posting?”

  Payne nodded. “Which means Harrington was expecting Arab witnesses.”

  “Or prisoners.”

  “Which supports our terrorist theory. It also explains something Kim said. He mentioned hearing ancient voices, like the Devil speaking in tongues. That’s how Arabic might sound to someone who’s never heard it before.”

  Jones agreed, then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He had showered before falling asleep so he was ready to leave whenever necessary. “Any word from Dial?”

  “Not yet. But it’s only been a few hours. Nick’s good, but not that good.”

  “Unfortunately, Arabic doesn’t do much to limit our candidates.”

  “Sure it does,” Payne joked. “Only three hundred million people speak Arabic as their main language. We’ve just eliminated several billion suspects in the world.”

  Jones gurgled in front of the sink. “G-g-g-g-g-ooood point.” He spit for emphasis.

  “The thing that confuses me the most is Harrington. What’s with all his games? He dragged us here under false pretenses, then gave us only half the intel we needed to succeed. That doesn’t make sense to me. Why bring us in if he wants us to fail?” Payne paused, thinking back to their plane trip with Harrington. “Do you remember what he said when you asked him about Schmidt’s latest missions? He told you it was none of your goddamned business. That should’ve told us something right there. He’s been keeping stuff from us from the very beginning.”

  Jones emerged from the bathroom. “Unless he hasn’t been.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Who knows? Maybe Harrington isn’t messing with us. There might be other possibilities.”

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe he’s a crappy colonel.”

  Payne laughed. “A crappy colonel?”

  “Maybe he’s not keeping us in the dark. Maybe he’s just clueless.”

  “Sorry, but I didn’t get that sense in Pittsburgh. He seemed pretty perceptive.”

  “Fine. Then maybe it’s something else.”

  “Like what?”

  Jones paused, trying to think of an alternative. “Maybe he’s in the dark, too.”

  “In what sense?”

  “Well, we used to run black ops. How often did we report to our superiors?”

  Payne smiled. “Not as often as we were supposed to.”

  “Exactly! So maybe the same thing happened here. Maybe Schmidt followed our example and failed to tell his boss what was going on. Days go by and Harrington finally sends someone to check up on him. And when he got there, he found the cave covered in blood.”

  “You know, that’s not half bad.”

  Jones nodded, impressed with his own theory. “Actually, it would explain a lot. Early on I asked Harrington when Schmidt was last seen, and he said he didn’t know. Then I asked him where, and he didn’t know that either. That sounds like a soldier who didn’t report very often. Just like us back in the day.”

  “Which might explain Harrington’s comment about the MANIACs. He said we were being brought in because we thought differently than normal soldiers. He must’ve figured we’d be able to piece together Schmidt’s final mission, maybe shed some light on what happened here.”

  “If that’s the case,” Jones added, “he probably didn’t know Schmidt was dead until he got the blood results. For all we know, he might’ve thought this was actually a rescue mission. Just like he told us in the very beginning.”

  “Crap!” Payne said. “Maybe I pegged the guy wrong.”

  Suddenly confused, he walked out of the bedroom and went straight to the small kitchen, where a small basket of tangerines sat in the corner, adorned with a sign that said Grown Fresh on Jeju. Payne grabbed two and tossed one to Jones, who caught it like a wide receiver. Whenever Payne got hungry, he found it difficult to think clearly. And right now, he was famished, his stomach grumbling like a bad muffler.

  Payne started peeling his fruit. “So what you’re telling me is that Harrington might not be messing with us?”

  “Maybe not.” Jones took a bite and quickly regretted it, realizing that toothpaste and tangerine didn’t mix. “He still should’ve told us about the Arabic. If he felt it was an important skill for our translator, we should’ve known about it.”

  “Agreed.”

  .lust then the electric lock on the suite started to beep. Someone was entering.

  Most likely Kia and Mr. Lee.

  “Speak of the devil,” Jones said as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you don’t mind,
I’ll let you handle Mr. Lee. He wants to kiss your ass, not mine.”

  Payne walked into the kitchen and rinsed the tangerine pulp from his fingers, realizing that nothing ruined a meeting quicker than a sticky handshake. Kia walked in first, followed by Mr. Lee, who glanced around the suite, making sure everything met his high standards. He said a quick hello to Jones before he spotted Payne in the kitchen. “Good evening, Mr. Lee. Would you like a drink? I make a mean glass of water.”

  The smile on Mr. Lee’s face grew wider than normal, honored that Payne had remembered his name and respected him enough to offer him a beverage. He politely declined, then walked over to the couches where he stood patiently until everyone was ready to be seated. Payne and Kia sat on one couch, he and Jones on the other.

  Payne said, “I know you’re a busy man, so I’d like to thank you for coming here on such short notice. All of us appreciate your time.”

  Mr. Lee bowed slightly, his way of showing respect.

  “The three of us came to Jeju on a personal quest, one that’s left us puzzled. We are searching for a boy who lives in a tiny village near the base of Mount Halla. We found his home with little difficulty, yet he wasn’t there. One of his neighbors heard the young boy speak of the Black Stone on the day that he disappeared with his father. However, the opulence of your resort leads us to believe that he was mistaken. These are poor people with limited means.”

  Jones handed Mr. Lee the photograph of Yong-Su Park and his father, Chung-Ho. He studied their faces but recognized neither.

  “None of us are experts on Jeju or its customs. Therefore, we’re hesitant to take our search public, afraid mat our questions might be perceived as a nuisance. Kia can speak the language—she was actually born in South Korea—but we need some guidance with our journey.”