Some time later, the sound of running water – the shower – stopped. A few minutes after that, I heard the lock slide free on the bathroom door and heard her enter the corridor between the sitting area and the bedroom. I heard her stop. “Goodnight, Michael,” I heard her say.
“Sleep well, Jamila. Do not be afraid.”
I heard her go into the bedroom and the door move. I did not hear it close.
Twenty minutes passed. The Machine left me in peace. I went, as quietly as I could, to the bathroom. I took my camera bag with me. I closed the door and took the knife from the bag, washed it thoroughly of the blood from the two outside guards, then wiped out the non-stick plastic lining of the inside of the bag and put the knife inside it. I then stripped and took off my body armor. The process was slow. I looked at it, appreciating once again the technological achievement it represented. I placed it in my camera bag. I admit that I did walk to the mirror and look at my forehead – just to make certain. Not a mark. But old habits are hard to break. I showered, threw a towel around me and left the bathroom, intending on a few hours of sleep.
I heard a rustle of sheets from the bedroom – a very short distance away. Yes, the sound did make me stop and listen. Then I heard her voice.
“Is this how you live, Michael – saving women in perilous situations and combating evil men? How is it that you knew when to stop and when to continue, when to turn left or right? When not to enter the hotel and then when to enter? I saw these things and I know that you could not see or hear more than I. How do you know that we are safe, Michael?”
I walked that short distance to the bedroom door, stopped short of it, did not move it, and said, “We are safe, Jamila. Sleep. It will help you.”
“Come and speak with me, Michael. Tell me about yourself. I need to know.”
I hesitated – as you might imagine. But I must say this – the image in my mind of her beauty, her raven-black hair, the curves of her body, her smell, the mystery in her eyes drew me toward her.
I entered the bedroom and looked down at her, lying – still clothed – amidst the crumpled sheets on the bed. The light from the sitting room cast a soft blanket of light over her, placing the features of her face in partial shadow, further deepening her allure to me. “I cannot answer your questions, Jamila. You will find your way again. You are strong. Sleep now and rest – regain your strength.”
I could see her looking at me, examining my face, my forehead again. “You are a stranger to me. You have saved me from my own husband with some power that is both brutal and a wonder to see. What kind of man does that? None that I know. Yet here you are.” She reached out her hand to me to come to her. “Yes, you are right. I must regain my strength. Help me to do that, Michael.”
I held her gaze, intently. “Jamila, you are tired and vulnerable. You must understand that my actions are done to serve the objectives of others. You owe me nothing.”
“Do not be so selfish, Michael. I care nothing for the objectives of others. At this moment, I care only to save my spirit – who I am - after what those filthy beasts intended to do to me. Yes, I am a strong woman, and I know what I need and want.” She kept her hand outstretched to me in the semi-darkness. “I need your power, Michael. Will you give it to me?”
I walked to the bed, reached out and took her hand, never looking away from her incredible beauty and the need in her eyes. How could I resist her soft voice calling to me for warmth and intimacy from the edge of despair?
She reached out with her other hand and undid the towel, letting it fall to the floor, and drew me down to her.
CHAPTER 10 – Ghal Tar: Pre-Emption
“In all cases, we would like you to determine if this new radical terrorist group can be destroyed. If you determine it can, we would ask that you be prepared to do so.” These were the Grid’s instructions. I had agreed to them. I sat in shadow on the rooftop of this six story building in a small town in southwestern Pakistan in the chill of the early evening, my local, sand-colored clothing blending into the background of an exterior wall of a rooftop storage room. Four-foot high walls along the roof’s perimeter obstructed anyone below my level from seeing me. There were few buildings higher than the one on which I sat and none nearby. The Machine had checked the roofs and each of the rooms behind windows in those few buildings that provided sight of me, including those some distance away in the building in which I was interested. It had detected nothing of concern. The Machine was monitoring all electronic communications for any evidence of interest in or knowledge of my presence here. It watched all avenues of approach to this building and, within this building, all corridors and staircases that provided access to where I sat. The Machine had found and selected this site for my over-watch of the target, as well as several other operational sites in this small town. Its name was Ghal Tar. I had agreed to them, following a short but detailed brief. The sun was nearly touching the hills that lay beyond the town to the west. I waited for Khan and Omar and the rest of the core group of Khan’s organization to arrive at the building that Jamila had identified to me.
“Status?” I asked.
“Loitering. Two hours, 37 minutes. All green.”
“Tell me, Michael, how can I help you stop him from using his weapon of madness that will surely lead to the deaths of my children – of all that I care for?” She had lain in my arms. Our fierce yet tender lovemaking was already a flame in my memory that knew I would never see her again.
I had looked at her. “Why do you look so sad?” she asked. “Are you not pleased with our lovemaking?”
I looked at her and tried to smile for her beautiful eyes. I brushed my lips over her hand. After a few moments, still looking into her dark gaze, both captivating and vulnerable, I took advantage. “Just think back, Jamila. Is there anything of importance in your mind about his future activities? Some event or timeline, some place?”
She closed her eyes and thought. A few moments later, she replied, “Yes, perhaps. Last month, I overheard him talking to Omar about a meeting – a last coordinating meeting – to take place this month on the twenty-second; a meeting to finalize arrangements before employing the atomic weapon that he had obtained from the Pakistani arsenal. All of his key people are to be there.”
“The 22nd is in four days.”
I continued to watch her. I touched her cheek, left my hand there, feeling her warmth, and waited.
She held my look. “The meeting is to take place in a building in the small town of Ghal Tar, near the port of Gwadar. It was from Gwadar that he had me shipped here like cargo to be violated, murdered and mutilated.” She said these last words with anger in her voice, her eyes locked onto mine. Her right hand then reached out and touched my face and she smiled for me – a most intimate gesture of gratitude. “I am forever grateful, Michael.”
“Your touch and your smile just now are all the gratitude I will ever need.”
She blushed and looked down, understanding the significance of my words – given our physical intimacy just moments before.
I looked at her. “Can you identify the building on a map, Jamila?”
“On a map – I cannot be certain. The building is on the edge of the town, to the north, I think. Still, I might confuse it for another. There is a group of tall trees near the building, away from the town and a pharmacy nearby, but toward the town. This is all I can remember. On a map, I am not certain I could be sure. If I saw it there, I could tell you, point to it.” She looked back up at me, grimacing - a pleading in her eyes, believing that she had failed to help me stop the demons that were coming.
I gently slid away from her, got up from the bed and walked to my camera bag. She watched me. I took out the Tablet, giving it time to recognize me. I brought it back to the bed and set it down flat between us.
“Battery power?” I tapped.
“Sufficient.”
“Jamila, if I show you the town, you think you can identify the building?”
“Yes.” She looked
at me, then at the Tablet, then back to me.
“Watch here,” I said softly, pointing to the Tablet. She gazed down at it, again a look of deep curiosity in her eyes – almost expectation.
Taking its instructions from the Machine, the Tablet lit up and projected a rectangle of light vertically up to the ceiling, where it bounced back toward the apparatus, which projected a stabilizing field two feet above the bed. There, a 3-dimenstional image appeared of the town of Ghal Tar, at an angle of 45 degrees from the horizontal. Jamila stared at it, wonder again on her face.
“You said you thought the building was on the northern edge of the town.” The image rotated and focused closer on the northern portion of the town. “You said that there was a group of large trees to the north of the building, not far away, and a pharmacy nearby in a southerly direction.” The image shifted slightly to the left and telescoped inward toward an area of the town measuring about 400 by 500 meters. The Machine identified a stand of tall trees and the pharmacy within yellow borders and three nearby buildings bordered in red.
Jamila sat there holding the bed sheet to her, shaking her head. “How are you doing this?” she asked.
“Is the building one of the three bordered in red?” I asked.
“Yes, it is that one.” She pointed to the walled building on the right, to the east. “I remember it because it had only two floors and was the only building near the trees surrounded by a wall.” The red borders around the other two buildings disappeared. She reached out, trying to touch the image hovering in front of her, her hand sliding through the light.
“How many people are key to Khan’s plan? How many do you think will attend this meeting?”
“I witnessed the gathering of one other such meeting in the past. I was not allowed to attend the meeting, but I did see the men arriving. There were perhaps twenty or twenty-five of them.”
“Did that earlier meeting take place in this building?” I asked, pointing to the hologram projection.
“Yes.”
“Where in this building did it take place?”
“On the ground floor, in a large room on the side of the building facing the trees. I remember seeing them through the windows.”
The projection rotated so that the north side of the walled building faced her, with the stand of trees in between.
She watched the movement.
“You mean the meeting room is on the side of the building that is now facing you?”
She nodded her head but said nothing, just stared at the image, her eyes moving about it. She then turned her beautiful face up to look at me, the question filling her eyes. “Will this help you against him?” Her voice was small and quiet, fearful of the answer.
“Yes, Jamila.” I reached down and ran my hand gently through her raven-black hair. “You have just helped - a great deal - to save your children.”
She closed her eyes as a tear ran down her face.
A Device sat high on the wall in the northeast corner of the large ground floor room on the side of the building facing the trees. It watched the men enter. The Machine showed me the image on my Tablet. The last to enter the room was Omar, accompanied by another man. The Machine believed his name was Kasim. Omar went about the room speaking to each of the other men in turn, Kasim at his side. Many of the men were also moving about the room, talking with each other, many smiles on many faces. A bit later, I saw Omar and Kasim, physically close, talking together a little away from the other men.
The Machine had yet to identify Khan. It had no images of him. If he was among the men present in the room, he was disguised and adopting a very discreet presence. There had been no person or group of persons yelling his name and excitedly gathering about him to gain the attention of their leader. Omar had acted toward no one in the room in a manner that would reflect that person was his brother.
Earlier, the Machine had shown me the staggered arrival of the men at the outer wall entrance, either individually or in pairs – never larger – the first arriving a little over an hour ago. The last – Omar and Kasim –arrived just minutes ago.
The Machine had seen nothing that looked like the atomic weapon or something that could store it in the room or in any of the other rooms of the building, all of which had been searched by the Devices. I was relieved by this, but concerned by Khan’s apparent absence.
Our plan – the Grid’s plan – was to track the atomic weapon to its destination in order to determine who was involved in its intended use – everyone. A dangerous tactic, admittedly, but the only reasonable one we had.
“Status?” I asked again.
“Loitering in approaching arcs. 1 hour and 18 minutes. All green.”
“Time to target, following commitment?”
“4 minutes, 8 seconds.”
Omar was asking the men for their attention, not the other man. The Machine again provided simultaneous translation for me.
“My brothers, thank you for traveling here – some of you from great distances – to listen to the final instructions of Khan. I know that you expected him to talk to you personally. But he is not with us this day, as previously planned. Events in the Yemen have caused him to accelerate his visionary plan.” Murmurs in the room, hurried exchanges of words and looks between some. “My brothers – do not be concerned. Those events have not exposed you in any way. You are in no danger.” The Device shifted its position along the eastern wall to better capture the images of the men standing in front of Omar. “Please, believe me. Khan has asked me to provide you his last instructions before he carries out actions that will shake the West. Along with eight men he has taken with him, you are his trusted inner council. He has complete confidence that you will fulfill your oaths to him. Let me explain.” Gradually, the room became quiet.
“I last spoke with Khan two days ago. Yesterday, he departed for the West. With him are the eight warriors who protect him and a tool that will give him the means to shake the West to its core. These are his last instructions.”
So he was not here.
“Searching.”
“When Khan takes action, you will know the action is his. He will release a video to the Western media claiming responsibility, so that they know who it is that strikes them. When you see this happen – within the coming few weeks – Khan asks that you do - nothing.” Everyone in the room looked about at the others. Voices rose with questions. Someone yelled out, “Do nothing!? Why do nothing?! We must act as well to build on the fear that the West will certainly feel!”
“My brothers, the time for action here – forceful and decisive action – will come, but not immediately. We must wait for the West to be distracted, looking away from us, its forces committed elsewhere. Then we will act here. And you know that your actions then will bring great rewards and the means to face the West – as equals – and spit at them, to challenge them to stop us when we have the same might as they. Your actions later will empower the next Caliphate, give it the power to stand up to the West. They will not be able ever again to be certain that the Caliphate will not use its new and mighty power – not after the action of Khan!”
Jamila was wrong, I thought. Her children had much more to fear than Khan in the possession of a single nuclear weapon.
“Status of search query?” I asked.
“Working.”
“You see, my brothers, Khan’s plan will lead either to the West’s acceptance of the Caliphate as an equal power or to profound confrontation with it. Should it be confrontation, it will be of such violence that it will cause the clash of civilizations that our great leader has always sought – and through that clash, the rise of the Arab Street everywhere against the crusader oppressors. The West will fall. It has no stomach to confront us in such a fashion that will be necessary. The Caliphate will survive. As our Western oppressors say, my brothers – a win-win situation.”
“There is insufficient information to determine precisely how Khan departed and for what destination.”
“Pl
ease, my brothers. You will have your day and it will give great power to the Caliphate. But we must be patient. Fulfill your oaths to Khan.”
“As you know, while we were able to locate the position of the cell phone from which Khan spoke with his brother two days ago to tell him to start and lead this meeting until he arrived and to expect the arrival of Kasim, who would give him a message and accompany him, we still have been unable to track Khan from that location. We had no assets near him to do so directly or other technical devices from which to extrapolate. Apparently, Khan destroyed the cell phone he had used, immediately following his discussion with his brother. We believe that, for security, Khan did not tell his brother that he would in fact be absent from the meeting. We now believe that Omar was provided a last message from Khan by Kasim just before he began the speech he is now giving. Our Device could not overhear that discussion, given the background noise and its position away from the two men at the time.”
“Do we know from which country he departed, at least – Pakistan or another?” I asked.
There had been commotion in the room. I watched the men look about themselves and begin to speak to each other.
“No.” Even with all of the Grid’s technology, there was no information at this key juncture in the operation to guide me further. They had taught us not to be surprised when this occurred and, when it did, to improvise.
I put the Tablet in my camera bag. “Status?”
“Loitering. 1 hour, 14 minutes. All green. The Controller is withholding commitment, pending your resolution of location and destination of the atomic weapon.”
Always demanding. “Figure it out,” they were fond of saying in their training regimens. “That is why we pay you and give you these fancy toys.” You can see a bit more clearly the addiction – can you not?
I stood and started to move quickly through the dark to the rooftop entrance that led down to the building under my feet.
The Grid Page 9