'Probably not.'
'In that case, may I suggest Plan B?'
'Which is?'
'Do something that will make everyone forget about Plan A.'
'Such as?'
The driver glanced into the trees. He knew they were being watched by several snipers, all of them ready to pull their triggers over the slightest indiscretion. Still, he wanted to assist Kia. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, 'There's a village nearby, filled with several people who probably aren't very good with English. As far as I'm concerned, their statements might come in handy as this investigation broadens. Heaven knows what they heard or saw.'
'You mean no one's talked to them?'
'No one's even been over there. We've been waiting for a translator.'
Shame motivated people to commit desperate acts. Some large. Some small. Some completely foolish. As Kia walked toward the village through the camphor trees, she pondered these categories and wondered how she would classify her decision at the end of the day.
The daughter of an American soldier and a Korean mother, she was born on a U.S. Army base near Seoul, 275 miles north of her current location. Foreign marriages rarely worked in the military-they're often based on loneliness and little else-but her parents were the exception. Kia lived in South Korea until she was seven, learning the language, land, and customs from her mom. Then, when her father was transferred to a Stateside base, she learned all about America from him. Ironically, when she was old enough to choose her home, she split the distance between the countries, opting for a job on the Marshall Islands, in the middle of the Pacific.
Near the end of the rocky path, Kia spotted a
Kia touched it as she walked past, her eyes no longer focused on the relic but on the tiny village that lie ahead. She felt foolish for her thoughts but hoped the statue had done its job, protecting these people from the violence of the cave.
Little did she know that the villagers had played a major role in the bloodshed.
Both past and present.
9
Mecca, Saudi Arabia
On the outskirts of the sacred city, there was a massive blue sign. Its message was written in Arabic and English, an equal dose of welcome and warning. For true believers of Islam, it marked the gateway to their holy land, the one place on earth they were supposed to visit before they died. But to others, the sign was more ominous. A threat that shouldn't be ignored.
STOP FOR INSPECTION ENTRY PROHIBITED TO NON-MUSLIMS
Fred Nasir stared at the sign and realized this was the point of no return. There was an exit road to the right of the checkpoint, a final chance to turn around and drive back to Taif. Or Riyadh. Or anywhere else he wanted to go. But if he stayed in this line of traffic, which he'd been sitting in for the longest thirty minutes of his life, there was a chance he was going to be pulled from his Toyota Camry and taught the Hind of lesson he'd rather not learn.
For a culture that preached peace, some Muslims were skilled at violence.
Guards were standing up ahead, armed with rifles. He knew that additional men, carrying more significant firepower, were stationed in the nearby security building. Video cameras recorded everything: faces, cars, license plates. A sophisticated system whose sole purpose was to weed out the unwanted. Nonbelievers, who didn't belong.
'Relax,' he said to himself. 'You'll be fine.'
After taking a deep breath, Nasir eased his car under the blue warning sign and waited for the inevitable. The part he feared the most. Two soldiers came out of the booth, neither of them smiling. The first asked for his travel visa and passport; the other glanced inside the car, searching for things that didn't belong. Mecca was a strict city with strict rules. No exceptions. This wasn't like Tijuana, Mexico, where a tourist could slip a couple of bucks to a guard and smuggle Pepe the Dancing Mule across the border for a bachelor party. This was far more serious. The type of place where bribe attempts were greeted with gunfire.
As requested, Nasir placed his papers in a tiny basket and handed it to the guard, who quickly disappeared into the booth, where he'd inspect everything, putting extra emphasis on the paperwork that granted travelers access to Mecca. To get clearance, Muslims must file the proper certificates (vaccinations, marriage, birth, etc.) weeks in advance, pay the proper entry fees, and include a notarized letter from the director of their mosque that certified their faith. Passports were required as well, but unlike some cities that frowned on visitors from certain nations, Mecca was the ultimate melting pot, a city whose sole existence was to greet visitors from all countries, as long as the visitors believed in Islam.
This time of year-the last month of the Islamic calendar-the city was particularly busy, hosting more than two million guests who were there for the hajj, the pilgrimage that all able-bodied Muslims were required to make at least once in their lifetimes. To accommodate the influx of travelers, the Saudi government built a special airport in Jeddah, the largest in the world in overall area, consisting of a dozen terminals. Traffic flow was so specialized that it was open only for the hajj season. The rest of the year it sat dormant, unable to handle normal operations.
Unfortunately, the airport sat fifty miles west of Mecca, meaning everyone who flew in for the hajj still had to pass through the same security checkpoints as those who drove. This clogged the roadways with cars, vans, and tour buses, plus the occasional hearty soul who walked the entire way through the desert heat. Nasir had heard stories of men passing through security on the hump of a camel, but thus far he hadn't seen any.
Three minutes later, the guard returned with his approved paperwork. Everything had checked out; Nasir was free to enter the city. Lifting the metal gate, the guard welcomed him with a common Islamic greeting.
He replied,
Peace be upon you.
And on you, peace.
Nestled in bleak mountains that were barren from the desert heat, Mecca (spelled Makkah in Saudi Arabia) is a bustling city of more than 1.2 million people. Founded in about 400 AD as a nomadic trading post, it expanded through the centuries, becoming the holy center for one of the world's biggest religions. Five times a day, more than 1 billion Muslims turn toward Mecca and pray. This direction of prayer is known as the
The Kaaba is located at 21°25'21.70'N, 39° 49' 33.64' E.
The city itself has no railroads or airports, and its drinking water has to be pumped in from surrounding areas due to a lack of underground wells, yet it is still a modern metropolis, filled with restaurants, malls, museums, and skyscrapers. Nasir was expecting none of those things as he drove through Mecca for the first time. He was anticipating something more ancient, more hallowed-a collection of mosaics and domes that showcased the beauty of Islamic art and architecture, not a steady flow of tourists looking for clearance items at an outdoor bazaar.
His biggest shock came when he spotted a Kentucky Fried Chicken not far from the Kaaba. He was tempted to stop, just to see if Colonel Sanders was wearing his southern white suit and tie or if they'd dressed him up in a robe and sandals. The possibility made him laugh, a welcomed tension-breaker before he completed the last part of his mission.
Nasir drove to the designated area, not far from the Great Mosque, and parked his car. This part of town, known as the old city, used to be crammed with houses and apartments that had been there for generations. But
