Sword of God

Shari tried to remember. 'It was a red van. Kind of new-looking. They backed it all the way to the tunnel entrance so they wouldn't have to carry the body very far.'

'That's good. Real good. Try the next picture.'

Shari handed the first photo to Kia, who looked at it closer while Shari took the next one out of the stack. 'This guy searched the body. He frisked him for his wallet and keys.'

'Did he find anything?' Jones asked.

'Keys. He found his keys. After that, he ran off to move the guy's car.'

Shari handed the photo to Kia, then moved on to the next one.

'This guy,' she said as she stared at his face, 'helped move the body. He pulled out a big carpet from the back-'

'Jon,' Kia said, interrupting Shari, 'where were these pictures taken?'

'What?' he asked.

'These photos. Where were they taken? Were they taken in Jeddah?'

Payne glanced at Jones, perplexed. Al-Jahani had mentioned the city during his video testimony, but neither of them had brought it up during this conversation. 'Why do you ask?'

'Because of this photo,' Kia said. She pointed over the shoulder of the second guard and tapped the background. 'All these crates. They say Jeddah.'

Payne leaned forward, hoping to see, but all he saw was a bunch of lines and squiggles.

'You won't be able to read it,' Kia stressed. 'It's written in Arabic. But I'm telling you it says Jeddah.'

Shari took the photo from Kia and held it up to the light. She stared at it for several seconds before her lips curled into a huge grin. 'Actually, it says a lot more than Jeddah. It's stamped with the name of a business.'

'Which business?' Payne demanded.

Her grin grew wider. 'One I know quite well. It's owned byOmarAbdul-Khaliq.'

54

Jeddah Seaport, Saudi Arabia

With a population of more than three million people, Jeddah is the second-largest city in Saudi Arabia. According to legend, it was named after the Arabic word jaddah, which means grandmother, because the mythical tomb of Eve, the matriarch of all civilization, was there until 1928, when the Saudi government, fearing the perversion of Islam, had it destroyed.

Nowadays, Jeddah is the commercial center of Saudi Arabia, anchored by a sprawling seaport that sits on the Red Sea and handles the majority of the country's shipping. Barges, tankers, and ships of all sizes filled the blue water, but on this day the U.S. military was more concerned with the buildings that surrounded the harbor.

While flying to Jeddah, Payne and Jones studied satellite images of the terrain, focusing on four warehouses owned and operated by Omar Abdul-Khaliq. An advance team that was already in the city on another mission had located the suspects from the photographs and secured the immediate area while they waited for Payne and Jones to arrive. Their chopper landed on one of the port's helipads, less than a mile from the site, where a young soldier met them and briefed them en route.

'The suspects are in warehouse twenty-nine,' he said, pointing to a detailed map. 'Multiple points of entry. Minimal security. Right now they're loading cargo into a shipping vault.'

'Cargo?' Payne asked, hoping it was the artifact from Mecca.

'Can't tell what it is, sir. It's boxed up in a large crate. Must be important, though.'

'Why do you say that?'

'The old guy keeps yelling at them.'

'What old guy?'

'Sorry, sir. I should've mentioned him. There are five men in total. Four suspects and some old guy who's bossing them around. We've been calling him the sheik.'

'The sheik?'

'Yes, sir. Because he looks like a sheik.'

'Creative name,' Jones said sarcastically.

'Thank you, sir.'

Payne glanced at Jones. 'Would Omar would be dumb enough to be here himself?'

Jones shrugged. 'According to Shari, the cargo would be invaluable to the Islamic world. So who knows? If Omar wanted to see it or doesn't trust the guards, he might've made the trip.'

'Seems kind of stupid to me. Why would he risk it?'

'Hey,' Jones said, 'the same could be said about us. We're supposed to be retired.'

'Good point.' Payne smiled as he refocused on the soldier. 'Do your men understand the parameters of mis assault?'

'Yes, sir. The suspects are wanted for questioning. Nonlethal force unless necessary.'

'Be extra careful with the sheik. We want him alive.' 'Understood, sir. I'll stress it to my men.' Payne nodded. 'What do you have for transport?' The soldier pointed at the map. 'Our boat is waiting in the harbor. On my signal, he'll make his approach along this channel and stop at this dock. If all goes smoothly, we'll load the boat in five minutes. After that, we're off to international waters.'

'Can you handle some extra weight?' 'Why, sir? Are you thinking of joining us?' Payne shook his head. 'I was referring to the cargo. We want to take that as well.'

The assault started with a flashbang, a nonlethal grenade that was commonly used in hostage retrieval. No shrapnel. No toxic gas. Just a flash of light that was so bright it activated all of the photosensitive cells in the suspects' retinas, blinding them for several seconds. Couple that with a blast that was so deafening it disrupted the fluid in their inner ears, and they had no chance to fight back. One moment they were standing; the next they were falling to the ground in agony.

Temporarily blind and completely disoriented.

Soldiers breached the warehouse from multiple angles, swarming the suspects before they had a chance to recover. Within seconds they were bound and gagged and ready for transport. Payne and Jones studied their faces, making sure they had everyone in their grasp. Four guards in total, including the one who had assaulted Shari.

'Let me break his nose,' said Jones, who was only half joking.

Payne shook his head, realizing that the guards would be roughed up worse than that once Harrington's men started interrogating them. Early in his career, Payne had asked one of his commanders what would happen to a prisoner they had just captured, and his response was one that always stuck with him.

He's going to be beaten until he starts leaking answers.

For some reason, that expression seemed to fit.

Next, Payne turned his attention to the old guy. It was, in fact, Omar Abdul-Khaliq.

He did not look very happy.

Like the soldiers had mentioned, he looked like a stereotypical sheik-though not nearly as dignified, since he was hog-tied on the floor. Payne wanted to ask him why he was there. Why he was dumb enough to give up the sanctuary of his oil business, which made him off-limits to some American politicians, to supervise the shipment of an artifact that had been stolen during a terrorist attack.

It was one thing to send your goons. It was quite another to be there yourself.

Now the door was wide open. They had caught him red-handed and could question him about anything they wanted, for as long as they wanted, and they wouldn't have to worry about lawyers breathing down their necks. And if Payne guessed right, the process would go on indefinitely.

In the vernacular of the U.S. military, it was called a ghost detainee.

Abdul-Khaliq would enter their system and simply disappear.

EPILOGUE

Tuesday, January 9

U.S. Army Base, Kwajalein

Republic of the Marshall Islands