A bonus of ten times their agreed-upon fee awaited the Hindus if they were successful.
They had been paid one million in gold so far—a king’s ransom in their own country. Even split up among twelve men it was enough for each of them to live out the rest of their days in comfort. The additional ten million they had been promised would make them utterly rich.
All they needed to do was make it to Medina and sneak into the underground tunnels where the chilled water pipes ran under the mosque, lay the charges where the diagram directed them, and make their way back to Rabigh, where Hickman had another ship waiting to transport them across the Red Sea to Port Sudan, Egypt.
There a jet would be waiting with the gold and several guards. They would pass the next three days in Port Sudan. Once the Prophet’s Mosque was destroyed on the morning of the tenth, the start of the hajj, the jet would fly them back to India with their gold. Performance before final payment was a lesson Hickman had learned decades before.
IF THERE IS one single key to a successful operation, that key is to never rely on a single system. The Desert One affair during the Iranian hostage crisis in 1980 had proved that doctrine. The president wanted to go in with the minimum number of helicopters, and once the first aircraft began to fail, the entire mission unraveled.
When faced with a question of having one weapon or one thousand, you should always go for the largest possible number. Systems fail, bombs can be duds, and weapons jam.
Both Kasim and Skutter were aware of this fact.
“Sir, the primary threat right now is the shipping containers in Riyadh,” Skutter said. “You have already verified that they were delivered. And as soon as they are opened—which has to be sometime before the start of the hajj, which we believe everything else keys off—this entire operation could fall apart.”
“The first case of viral poisoning and Saudi Arabia will clamp down on everything,” Kasim agreed.
The two men were standing in front of a map tacked to a bulletin board in the hangar. On a table nearby were stacks of Qatari passports and pilgrim documents for Kasim and each of the thirty-seven team members. The emir’s government officials had been working on them all night. Because they were real and not forgeries, they would withstand any inspection by Saudi authorities. Since Saudi visas were usually given to Qatari nationals without question, the men now had a way to gain access to the kingdom.
“Then we send in two teams of four men each,” Kasim continued. “That leaves us with thirty men to enter Mecca.”
Skutter pointed to an aerial map that the NSA had faxed to Kasim in Qatar. The photograph showed the containment pen at the Riyadh Airport Cargo Facility. “Using the tracking numbers your people recovered from the shipment in England, we can place the containers here.”
Skutter circled the three containers with a highlighter.
“Damn good thing,” Kasim said, “they paint stencil identification numbers on the roofs of all the containers so the crane operators can see them. Otherwise we’d waste a lot of time searching through that mass of supplies.”
“Once we have the two teams there,” Skutter asked, “how do you want to handle it?”
“Secure and remove,” Kasim said. “Once we establish that they are still sealed, we need to load them onto trucks and take them out into the desert until we determine what to do with them—either destroy them at that site or move them to a safe location.”
“I read the personnel files,” Skutter said. “We have a U.S. Army warrant officer whose name is Colgan. He’s in Army Intelligence and has done some undercover work.”
“Colgan?” Kasim said. “Sounds Irish.”
“He converted to Islam in college,” Skutter said. “His file shows an exemplary service record and notes that he is level-headed and methodical. I think he can handle this.”
“Go ahead and brief him,” Kasim said, “and handpick the rest of his team. Then get them on the next plane leaving Qatar for Riyadh. According to the emir’s people, there is a shuttle flight that leaves here at six p.m.”
“Very good, sir,” Skutter said.
“That leaves us with the mosques in Mecca and Medina,” Kasim said. “I’ll lead the team into Mecca and you’ll handle Medina. We’ll each have fourteen men at our disposal, and our primary purpose will be to detect and disarm whatever type of destructive devices we believe Hickman has placed. We go in, search and remove, and get out again without being detected.”
“What if Hickman has switched the meteorites?”
“The rest of my people are working on that as we speak,” Kasim said.
THE INDIAN LEADER stared out the window of the house in Rabigh. The sun was set low in the sky and night would soon be upon them. It was about two hundred miles from Rabigh to Medina, or nearly four hours’ drive time. Once there they’d need a few hours to check the lay of the land, find the access panel to the underground tunnel outside the mosque Hickman had marked on the diagram, and then enter.
It would take less than an hour to place the charges and exit the tunnel again.
Then there was the four-hour drive back to Rabigh. If the Hindus wanted to be on the boat to Egypt by sunrise tomorrow, January 6, as scheduled, they’d need to get moving.
After checking the crate of explosives again, the leader motioned for it to be carried outside to the truck. Eight minutes later they were driving down the road to Medina.
HANLEY WAS FINDING that Overholt’s word was gold this time around. He was getting whatever he asked for. And he was getting it fast.
“We’re ready to start beaming,” Overholt said to Hanley over the phone. “Open up the link and check the picture quality.”
Hanley motioned to Stone, who brought the images up on a monitor. Cameras at the entrance and exit to the Suez Canal were showing the passing ships as clear as if you were standing on the shore.
“Beautiful,” Hanley said.
“What else do you need?” Overholt asked.
