was suspicious of Sayyidd’s eagerness to abandon all they had worked for up until now. He took a different tack. “Why is your idea, even as fleeting as it is, better than what we’re already doing? The only difference is time, and the fact that the original plan allows multiple blows against our enemy. How will your blow of one time outweigh the ability to strike repeatedly?”
Abu Sayyidd inwardly smiled. He was making headway. He had been thinking about their mission for a long time, and saw the fatal flaw within the jihad as currently waged.
“Tell me, what’s the greatest problem facing the jihad today? Is it truly the far enemy? His transgressions on the land of Mecca and Medina spit in the face of all true Muslims everywhere, yet he is allowed to continue. Why is that? It’s because the true Muslim has been seduced by Satan, choosing Big Macs over the purity of the Quran.
“The average Muslim doesn’t understand the threat of the far enemy. We need the man on the street to take up arms. The grocer, shoe salesman, and barber. If all Muslims would throw one rock, we would succeed. The only way to do this is to show the far enemy’s true colors, to prove that they want to dominate and rule over a Christian empire.”
Al Qaeda’s doctrine, developed by Bin Laden and his leadership, stated that the only way to return to the ways of the Prophet was to destroy the “far enemy” that supported, and in some cases propped up, the godless regimes that had come to power in the nations of the Middle East, the so-called near enemy. The United States was first on the list of the far enemy for its support of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, Israel, Egypt, Jordan, and a host of other countries.
Bakr sighed. “Okay. So what. You sound like any imam in our mosques. What’s that got to do with this mystical weapon? How can a single blow get what you want? It takes multiple blows against the far Satan to get him to do anything. The people of the U.S. have no memory. How will you cause this to change?”
Sayyidd held up his hands. “Please. Let me finish. We need to force the United States to attack all of a Muslim faith, without discrimination. To force the average Muslim to take up arms — either for faith or survival. I think we can cause this to happen if we
Abu Bakr was impressed with the logic of Sayyidd, and actually a little surprised, but still didn’t think simply attacking Israel would be enough, even with a weapon of mass destruction. He was intrigued, though, and mulled the idea over in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he thought it might succeed, with an additional twist.
“I don’t think the weapon alone would be a sufficient catalyst. We need to ensure the Zionists will attack another. A bomb, no matter how great, may simply cause them to slaughter Palestinians, and that is an old story.”
Baker paced back and forth a minute, then said, “Why not kill two birds with one stone? If we were able to bring about the attack you envision and blame it on the Persians, we could use the United States to eliminate those infidels while accomplishing exactly what you want. The United States has already forgotten about Iraq and begun to rattle their sabers toward Iran. With the Persians constantly talking about driving Israel into the sea and their current nuclear ambitions, it wouldn’t take much evidence to convince the Zionists of their culpability. The attack would cause a major conflict, forcing all to choose sides.”
Abu Sayyidd thought the idea was a good one but impossible to execute.
“But how will we implicate the Persians? We have no contacts with the Shia dogs, and I don’t think they’d volunteer.”
Sayyidd had a point. While Iran did indeed provide support to various terrorist groups, most notably Hezbollah, the regime had little affinity for the Sunni-based Al Qaeda. Bakr knew there were ways around this. “One step at a time. We’re assuming such a weapon exists. I’m not averse to seeing if we can find the weapon, provided it doesn’t jeopardize our long-term efforts. For now, let’s focus on simply getting the weapon. If that fails, we can still continue on our original task. That remains the priority.”
Bakr gave Sayyidd a stern look. “You understand that, correct?”
Pleased at the new path, Sayyidd said, “Yes. Of course. I wouldn’t do anything foolish.”
Abu Bakr went to the back of the room and opened a box. They had brought with them a test case — a collection of items that were not illegal individually but, put together, were sure to be confiscated. If the package made it to the contact inside the U.S., then AQ would continue to the next step with Miguel’s network. Inside the box was a Canon Rebel XTi digital camera, four Garmin 6 °CS mapping GPSs, four 3M P100 medical respirators, a box of glass test tubes, and two remote control garage door openers. Fairly innocuous items by themselves, but if the box were searched, the items together would trigger a response, which would allow the terrorists to judge the integrity of the smuggling network.
Abu Bakr was disappointed in the packing list. “Where’s the police scanner? The GPS and respirators will be useful for finding the weapon, but we need the police scanner right now.”
“Ahh… I did some research on the American laws, and the police scanner we obtained had the ability to scan in the American cell phone spectrum. It’s illegal to import those to America, so I took them out. I didn’t think we’d really be using any of this equipment. It was just to see if the network was good.”
Bakr was flabbergasted. “You took something out of the box because it was illegal? Something that we were illegally trying to smuggle in? What in all that’s holy—”
“Don’t begin to attack me!” Sayyidd said. “We were specifically told not to include illegal items so that if the box was found there would not be a legal reason to pursue its owners. It would simply get confiscated. I didn’t know we would use the equipment.”
Bakr waved his hand. “What’s done is done. I won’t mention it again, but if you wish to proceed on this path we need to find a scanner.”
He pointed to the suitcase holding their laptop computer and Thrane M4 satellite phone. “Get on the Internet and find a local store that sells scanners. One that can scan in the nine-hundred-megahertz range that the cell phones here use. We need to hear what’s being said from inside this room. It’s the only way we can stay ahead of Miguel.”
22
The professor woke up bouncing on the backseat of an old Toyota Land Cruiser, having no idea how long he had been unconscious. He was covered in a musty blanket that stank of horse sweat and moldy hay. He heard the Englishman talking on a cell phone.
“He’s not permanently injured, but he’s going to have a headache. I took everything with him and checked him out of the hotel. Outside of some ratty clothes and a few maps of the biosphere, all he had was a laptop, an American cell phone, and a GPS. He had no return plane tickets.”
The professor tried to move and realized that both his legs and hands were shackled like those of a death row inmate, which he was beginning to believe he had become. He was convinced that he was headed to some dank prison deep within Guatemala, to be held on the charge of murder and antiquities theft.
The man on the phone continued. “No, he didn’t have anyone else with him. He looked like he was about to flee. I didn’t want to try to smuggle him past airport security, so I’m driving back. I’ll be there in about seven hours. I’ll see you then.”
Eight and a half hours later, the professor sat in absolute panic. He was tied naked to a chair with a cloth bag over his head. He could make out light, but nothing else. He felt he had been sitting for at least forty-five minutes but in truth had lost all track of time. He heard a door open and felt a breeze on his naked chest. He made one final attempt to raise whatever dignity he could muster.
“I am an American citizen and a famous archaeologist. The embassy knows I am here, and in fact sponsored my expedition. They will come looking for me, and when they find me, they will punish you.”
The only response he received was two alligator clips clamping onto his nipples. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He thought he was going to piss himself or throw up. A voice with a heavy Spanish accent stated, “You
