Sword of God paj-3

by Chris Kuzneski

  "After the stoning, pilgrims are expected to slaughter their best animal, called udhiya. This represents the sacrifice that Abraham was willing to make when God commanded him to sacrifice his son Ishmael. In the past, pilgrims did the slaying themselves or directly oversaw the process. But now they are able to buy a sacrifice voucher that ensures an animal will be killed in their name. Today more than four hundred thousand animals will be slain."

  Click. A map of the hajj path filled the screen. It pointed out all the locations he had described. An arrow showed the traffic flow as it left Mecca and went to Mina, the Plain of Arafat, and returned to Mina. The final arrow pointed back toward Mecca.

  "The ritualistic slaughter marks the beginning of Eid ul-Adha, the Festival of the Sacrifice. It is celebrated throughout the Islamic world, even by Muslims not in Mecca. Male pilgrims mark this occasion by shaving their heads, which represents the cleansing of their sins through the hajj."

  Click. A photo of the Kaaba and the Black Stone.

  "Later today, pilgrims will start their journey back to the Masjid al-Haram, or the sacred mosque, to complete a ritual called the Tawaf az-Ziyarah. Using the Black Stone as a marker, they must walk around the Kaaba seven times in a counterclockwise motion, which signifies the unity of all Muslims to worship one god. With each rotation they will try to get closer and closer to the stone itself. The truly blessed will get to touch it or even kiss it."

  Click. An overheard view of the Great Mosque.

  "From there, Pilgrims will honor Hagar's search for water by walking back and forth between the two hills of Safa and Marwah. These hills are actually contained inside the mosque, a building so large it can hold nearly one million people."

  "Did you say million?" an officer asked.

  The speaker nodded. "Not to mention the other million or so who will be standing outside the mosque, waiting to get inside."

  "And this is happening today?"

  He nodded again. "More than two million Muslims in one city block, all of them with the same goal. To get as close to the Black Stone as possible."

  38

  The Pentagon

  Arlington, Virginia

  The White House was notified of the situation, but they passed the buck to the Pentagon, claiming they were more equipped to handle this type of crisis. Whether or not that was the case, they were given an hour to sort through the political hotbed and reach a decision.

  On the surface, it seemed like an easy choice. Rogue U.S. soldiers were planning an assault in Saudi Arabia, where fifteen thousand Americans were participating in the hajj. What was there to even think about? They knew that a small explosion, if positioned in the right place in the Great Mosque, would kill far more people than 9/11, and the resulting panic would create a human stampede, the likes of which mankind had never seen. Injuries and fatalities would be so substantial that military experts couldn't even agree on a projection.

  And that was with a small explosive.

  If Schmidt had access to a larger device, the devastation would easily exceed Hiroshima, where an estimated forty-five thousand people died from the initial blast.

  This should have been a no-brainer. Something needed to be done.

  However, the longer their discussion continued, the cloudier the issues became.

  Mecca was a restricted city, one where the United States wouldn't be granted access no matter how compelling their argument was. That meant the only way to get troops inside the city was by force-something they wouldn't risk, since Saudi Arabia, the world's biggest oil exporter, was one country they couldn't afford to piss off-or through stealth, which might have been possible if they were given enough time. But in their opinion, it wasn't the type of operation that could be arranged in a few hours.

  From a political standpoint, a failed mission would have been far worse than no mission at all.

  Religion complicated things even further. If word ever leaked that they had violated Islam's most sacred city on one of its holiest holidays, the United States would feel the wrath of every Islamic nation for years to come. Homeland Security would have to come up with a threat level that was more severe than red, because every terrorist in the world would be gunning for revenge.

  Sure, the Pentagon realized they might-and the key word was might-save thousands of lives in Saudi Arabia, but how many Americans would be killed in the future because the United States had invaded Mecca? How many cities would be bombed? How many schools?

  It was a compelling argument.

  However, in the end, their decision hinged on one main factor. If the Pentagon knew with absolute certainty that Trevor Schmidt was planning an attack that day, they would have given their stamp of approval for a preemptive assault. But based on their current intel and all the negative ramifications if they were wrong, they simply weren't willing to risk involvement.

  The verdict did not surprise Colonel Harrington. From the moment Trevor Schmidt disappeared, Harrington sensed (he potential for a world-class shitstorm. Of course, he never imagined it would elevate so quickly. If so, he would have been more forthright with Payne and Jones from the beginning. Who knows? Maybe that would have made a difference. Maybe they would have figured things out sooner. Maybe this whole situation would have been averted.

  Unfortunately, men in his position were often placed in no-win situations, asked to keep secrets for the good of the country, secrets that sometimes conflicted with other promises that were just as important. At some point they are forced to choose between the two, and when they do, it's rarely a simple choice. They must ponder all the consequences before they make their decision, always weighing the good and the bad, the long term and the short term.

  But today, with millions of lives on the line, none of that was necessary.

  Harrington knew he had to come clean ASAP if they wanted to stop Schmidt.

  The conference room was cleared of everyone except Harrington, Payne, and Jones. They sat at the far end of the long table. They talked softly so no one in the hall could hear.

  "I just got word from Washington," Harrington said. "We've been told to do nothing."

  Payne didn't flinch. "No shock there. That's what we expected."

  "Do you agree with it?"

  "We wouldn't have flown in from Korea if we did."

  "So, you were willing to go to Mecca?"

  Payne nodded. "I'm still willing to go to Mecca."

  Jones agreed. "I hear it's lovely this time of year."

  "In that case," Harrington said, "there are some things you need to know about Schmidt. Things I should've told you long ago but wasn't allowed. Hell, I'm still not allowed. But if we're going to prevent this tragedy, you need to know everything."

  He paused, trying to figure out where to begin.

  "In early November, French authorities nailed a terrorist named Abdul Al-Amin, a member of the Soldiers of Allah. They busted him on a weapons charge, nothing too major, but for some reason he started talking. He gave up names, places, exact dates of future attacks. The type of in-tel that can make a difference. Obviously, we were skeptical at first-I mean, this seemed a little too easy-but every time we heard something through the grapevine, we were able to verify it. Small things, big things, everything checked out."

  Payne nodded. He had heard the same story from Nick Dial.

  "We knew every country in the world wanted to get their hands on Abdul's bosses, men who were responsible for hundreds of deaths around the globe, not to mention millions of dollars in damages and manpower. But how could we let that happen? We were the nation they had targeted the most. No way in hell we were going to let some third-rate country snatch these guys before we could."

  He paused, taking a moment to calm down. "We got word that Hakeem Salaam and all of his top advisers were meeting in Kuwait. If true, it was a once-in-a-decade opportunity, because none of us really knew what Salaam looked like, and he was the key to that organization. Thankfully, we had recent pictures of his lieutenants, so we figured i
f we tracked them, they would lead us right to Salaam."

  "Did Schmidt lead the mission?" Jones asked.

  Harrington nodded. "Went off like clockwork. We nabbed Salaam and two of his top men. Picked them clean. Took them out through the Persian Gulf and straight to Jeju."

  "Why there?" Payne wondered.

  "Why not? We figured no one would ever look for three Arabs in Korea, and as far as we were concerned, that was Ihe key. No one could know we grabbed these guys. Not Homeland. Not the CIA. No one. That edict came straight from my bosses. We were the ones who caught these assholes, so we were going to milk them before anyone else got the chance."

  "Is that where Sheldon comes in?"

  Harrington shook his head. "I know you have a problem with Dr. Sheldon. He told me about your outburst in the cave. But believe me, the guy knows his field. That's why I chose him to re-create the crime scene. I figured he could shed some light on certain things."

  "Such as?"

  "What really happened in there," Harrington said bluntly. "At first, the interrogations were going well. Schmidt gave me regular updates, most of which paid off. We busted smaller cells, stopped some arms deals, that kind of thing. But nothing major. No grandiose schemes, like we thought we were going to get."

  "Why not?" Jones wondered.

  "Because Salaam wasn't talking. According to Schmidt, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Salaam to talk about anything important. And as you know, that doesn't happen in the real world. This ain't the fuckin' movies. If we want you to talk, we'll get you to talk. You guys should know that."

  He paused for a moment, trying to decide how much he should tell them.

  "Ultimately, Schmidt got desperate and went way too far. He handcuffed Salaam to one of his advisers-someone who'd been spilling his guts from die very beginning-and shot the bastard in the head. Just killed die guy in cold blood. After that, Schmidt threw them in a cell and left them there for several days. One alive, one dead, but still chained together."

  "Jesus," Payne whispered, stunned that it had gone that far. "Did he tell you this himself?"

  Harrington shook his head. "We found out about it later. Schmidt was required to keep a video log, describing all the techniques he used and the results he achieved. When we arrived in Jeju, we found some of his files, a whole lot of blood, and three dead Arabs in a back cell."

  "Including Salaam?"

  "At first, mat's what we diought," he said cryptically. "Remember, we had no idea what Salaam looked like. We had a rough description-age, nationality, and so on-but we couldn't identify him on site. All we knew is that he was meeting with his top advisers in Kuwait, and we snagged everyone in the room. So we assumed we had him."

  "And?"

  "After we hauled the bodies out of the cave, we ran preliminary tests-ballistics, DNA, et cetera-and came to a disheartening conclusion: the dead guy wasn't Hakeem Salaam."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because we got a positive ID. And let me tell you, we fucked up bad on this one. Not only wasn't the guy a terrorist, he was a Saudi official who worked for the Ministry of the Interior."

  Payne winced, realizing that Schmidt would have known whom tiiey grabbed very early in the interrogation process-if he didn't know from the very beginning. That meant he spent several days torturing a government official, learning inside information about a multitude of topics. In Saudi Arabia, the Ministry of the Interior was responsible for public safety on many different levels, including the police, fire services, passports, and civil defense. In addition, it handled security for all major sites, such as Muhammad's tomb in Medina and, more importantly, the Great Mosque in Mecca.

  "Obviously," Harrington admitted, "there's no way of knowing what Schmidt learned. But according to Dr. Sheldon, we have a pretty good idea of how he's going to use it."

  39

  Dr. Ernie Sheldon appeared on the video screen in the Taif conference room, the same screen that had illustrated the days of the hajj. He was somewhere in a secure facility, no longer hiding behind the mask he wore in the cave. Both literally and figuratively. Harrington had finally given him permission to talk about his work.

  "During the past several years," Sheldon said, "we've been conducting human-based experiments in compounds around the world. Ways to extract information and methods to prevent the same. Some people think our biggest concern is how to get secrets from the enemy. Sometimes it's more important to protect your own."

  He smiled, crinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes.

  "For the sake of clarity, I'll keep the science to a bare minimum. No need to confuse you with a bunch of complex formulas when all you need are the basics. Thirty years ago the Chinese developed a procedure where they isolated a specific emotion in a test subject and elevated it through chemicals and verbal reinforcement."

  Payne spoke into the camera. "You mean brainwashing."

  "Not actual brainwashing. They weren't able to take a peasant girl and turn her into a crazed assassin. However, l hey were able to take most subjects with a predisposed opinion-let's say a hatred of peas-and raise that hatred lo an unhealthy level. If, for instance, the subject ever saw a pea again, she'd be willing to kill someone to get it away from her."

  Jones whispered, "I feel the same way about broccoli."

  "From humble beginnings comes cutting-edge science," Sheldon pronounced. "During the past three decades, the scientific community has built upon these experiments, step by step, finally reaching a point where we can corral I hat undisciplined rage and focus it on a precise task. Different countries have different names for it, but we like to call it induction."

  "Induction?" Payne asked. "Can you give us an example? One that doesn't involve peas."

  Sheldon smiled again. "Of course I can. In fact, why don't we talk specifics? Let's discuss the reason we're all here."

  Payne glanced at Jones, neither of them liking where this was going.

  "If ever there was a candidate for induction, it was Trevor Schmidt. He was filled with so much anger and guilt from ihe terrorist attack that killed his squad, not to mention his missed opportunity to stop it."

  Payne turned toward Harrington. "What opportunity?"

  Harrington answered, "The day of the bombing, Schmidt had gathered his squad's families and driven them to the hospital himself. On their way inside they passed a number of Muslims who were praying. This is Saudi Arabia, after all, so that was pretty damn common. What wasn't common was the time of day. This wasn't one of their normal prayer sessions. These men were praying on their own, asking for courage to complete their mission."

  Jones understood. "He walked right past the bombers."

  "Exactly," Harrington said. "Ninety-nine point nine percent of the population would've missed the significance of the prayer, but Schmidt blamed himself for not being in the point one percent. He felt it was his job to spot things like that. His duty."

  "From that point on," Sheldon said, "he was an emotional wreck. He hit the bottle. He turned to drugs. He got in several fights. He was on the verge of being kicked out of the military."

  Harrington agreed. "Schmidt had just been arrested for another assault, and the MPs were sick of dealing with his shit. So I contacted Dr. Sheldon. I knew he specialized in behavior modification, and in my mind, that was a much better alternative than prison."

  "Better for whom?" Payne asked.

  "Better for Schmidt. You know damn well that he loved the military, and it was pretty obvious to everyone involved that we needed to do something drastic or he was going to piss that all away. I figured this program would give him a fighting chance."

  Payne wasn't sure if Harrington believed that, but this wasn't the time or the place to argue with the man. There were more important things to worry about.

  Sheldon continued. "As I mentioned, Trevor was filled with anger and guilt, yet was missing a productive outlet for either. The same could be said about the rest of his crew. These men we
re elite soldiers, trained to do amazing tilings, but their emotions were getting in the way of their performance. My program, a combination of pharmaceuticals and subliminal suggestions, helped redirect their rage. It gave them a specific focus."

  Payne asked, "Which was?"

  "Islamic terrorists." Sheldon smiled, proud of his work. "Keep in mind, I didn't plant their hatred. It was already in there, imprinted in their brains from the moment the bomb went off at the hospital. I simply focused it. I gave it direction."

  Harrington chimed in. "And the results were amazing, liom the moment they left the program, they were perfect soldiers. I'd give them a mission and they'd get it done. No questions asked. And all that other nonsense-the drinking, fighting, and drugs-stopped immediately."

  Jones cracked, "Maybe that's because they were brainwashed."

  "Not brainwashed," Sheldon argued. "They were-"

  "Doc," Payne interrupted, "it's just semantics. It doesn't matter what you call it. The point is we have to stop it. As far as I can tell, you've created the perfect storm. Men who have elite skills, capable of doing some truly horrific things, ycl no conscience to counteract it. I realize that wasn't your plan in the beginning, but that's the reality of the situation. Therefore, if you don't mind, I need to ask you a simple question: is there an off-button?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Let me rephrase. If I find Schmidt and talk to him, one on one, is there some way for me to get through to him? Some tactic that you'd recommend?"

  "That's a difficult question."

  "But I need an easy answer. Can I convince him to stop?"

  Sheldon frowned, a look of defeat on his face. "Honestly? The odds are pretty slim. If Trevor truly believes that altacking Mecca is the best way to kill terrorists, then that's what he's going to do."

  "Even though Americans might be killed?"

  "But that's the thing. He won't view them as Americans. He'll view them as Muslims. And in his mind, that's more important."

  When the videoconference ended, Payne and Jones focused on the task at hand. They didn't have days or weeks to plan the mission. They had hours. And some of that time had to be spent on the road. Taif was an hour away from Mecca. Throw in the checkpoints and the foot traffic from the hajj, and they had no time to waste. They needed to start their journey immediately.