“Remember that,” Halpert said, smiling, “at bonus time.”
Halpert walked out of the control room and Hanley reached for a telephone. While the number was ringing, he turned to Stone. “Pull up a satellite shot of Medina for me.”
Stone began to enter commands into the computer just as the phone was answered.
“YES, SIR,” KASIM said.
“What’s the progress?”
Kasim was standing just off to the side of a crowd of people at the Jeddah bus terminal.
“Both teams made it safely here,” Kasim said. “We stashed the motorcycles in a dry wash outside of Jeddah and made our way into the city. Skutter, who’s heading the Medina operation, and his team have already boarded a bus for the city. My team and I are waiting for ours now.”
“And Skutter has a satellite phone with him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long until his bus arrives?” Hanley asked.
“Four to five hours,” Kasim said.
“I’ll wait until he arrives to call him, but we think we know where the charges were placed at the Prophet’s Mosque.”
The bus was just pulling up.
“My bus is here,” Kasim said. “What do you want us to do?”
“You’ll be met by a CIA contact in Mecca and taken to a safe house,” Hanley said. “I’ll call you there.”
“Got it.”
PETE JONES LOOKED over to the emir of Qatar. “Your Excellency,” he said, “how are your relations with the Bahrainis?”
“Great,” the emir said, “they are dear friends.”
“Can you have trucks waived through customs without any problems?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Do you have a cargo ship available that can pick them up at the port in Bahrain?”
The emir stared over at his aide, al-Thani.
“I’ll arrange one here or in Bahrain immediately,” al-Thani said.
“We have about six hours before everything needs to be in place,” Jones said.
“It shall be done, Mr. Jones,” the emir said. “It shall be done.”
INSIDE THE FENCED cargo area alongside Riyadh Airport, U.S. Army Warrant Officer Patrick Colgan and his team were still awaiting instructions. They had spent three nights hiding under the containers, eating from their food supplies and drinking their bottled water. Now supplies were running low on both, and the containers around them that gave them cover were growing thinner and thinner.
Something needed to happen—and happen quickly.
JONES STUDIED THE file taken from Al-Sheik’s PDA, then reached for the telephone.
“Sir,” he said when the phone was answered, “have you received any changes to the shipping time for the cargo containers?”
“No changes,” Hanley said.
“Okay, then,” Jones said, “I’ve got the out.”
Hanley listened while Jones explained.
“I like it,” Hanley said, “simple and sweet.”
“I’m cleared?”
“Do it,” Hanley said.
THE AREA AROUND the three shipping containers where the men were hiding was gradually being cleared. There was still a scattering of containers to the left, but to the right was only bare sand and gravel.
Colgan’s telephone rang quietly, and he pushed the button to answer. “Colgan,” he said.
“This is Jones in Qatar.”
“What have you got for us, Mr. Jones? We are nearly out in the open here. We need to do something quick.”
“In ten minutes three trucks are due to arrive to pick up the containers,” Jones said. “The trucks all have GPS locators attached to the rear of the cabs. The locators are about the size of a pack of cigarettes and are secured by a magnet. Have three of your men act as lot workers helping the trucks hook up. Have the men remove the locators as the trucks back in, otherwise you’ll be tracked.”
“Okay,” Colgan said.
“Tell the three men with the locators to attach them to an uncontaminated container, then have them jump into another truck and catch a ride to Mecca. The people tracking the shipment should just think that the trucks are following close behind each other.”
“What should my men do when they reach Mecca?”
“Jump out of the trucks before they reach the unloading terminal and discard the locators in the first trash cans they see. Then they need to catch a bus down to Jeddah and make their way to the port area. Once there, they will find a shore launch marked
