The Secret Soldier

ABDUL FELL THROUGH THE hatch, dead, and before Bakr could fully register what was happening, another man plunged into the cell, wearing a bloodstained gown, a pistol in his hand. The man landed awkwardly and fell forward, toward the side of the cell, and Bakr looked at him and then at Kurland, and knew what he needed to do —

WELLS TURNED HIMSELF AND raised the pistol, but he was late, too late—

BAKR SCREAMED “ALLAHU AKBAR!” and drove the knife into Kurland’s belly, a killing stroke, Bakr knew, even as the man in the corner finally got his pistol up and the rounds tore at him, two in his arm and two more in his chest and a marvelous black warmth filled him—

WELLS FIRED UNTIL HE had no ammunition left and pushed himself up and hobbled across the cell. The blood splashed out of Kurland and pooled on the concrete. Bakr had torn through the big arteries in his stomach. Wells knew he couldn’t do anything, but he knelt before Kurland and pressed his hands to the wound and tried to stanch the flow. “I’m sorry,” he said. Kurland’s eyes were closing, but he locked on Wells when he heard the English.

“American?”

“Yes.” The blood seeped around the knife blade, around Wells’s hands.

Kurland’s eyes drooped. “Stay with me,” Wells said. He pushed harder. Kurland groaned.

“My ring. My wife. Ring.”

Wells saw the stump, the left hand missing, and understood. “Your wedding ring.”

“Tell her—” Kurland’s breath came fast. His voice was a whisper.

“Tell her—” Wells said.

“Tell her I fought.” His head slumped forward, and he was gone.

WELLS CLOSED HIS OWN eyes and leaned against the wall in a room with two men he’d killed and a third he’d failed to save. He would have world enough and time to consider how he could have saved Kurland. What he should have done differently. What his next move would be. Whether Saeed or someone else needed to pay for this atrocity. For now, he closed his eyes and sat in silence for eternity, or a minute or two. Until he heard someone in the garage above.

“John,” Gaffan yelled. “You in here?”

“Down here.”

“We clear?”

“Clear.”

Gaffan’s footsteps clanked over the plates. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Wells said quietly. “It’s not even close.”

EPILOGUE

THE SAUDIS COULD BE VERY CHARMING WHEN THEY HAD TO BE.

And they had to be to calm the fury after Graham Kurland’s death. After ten years and two frustrating wars, Americans had lost patience with Islamic terror — and with Saudi Arabia, which seemed to be its biggest backer. The fact that the kidnappers had mutilated Kurland became a closely guarded secret; the national security adviser called it “the kind of detail that could start a war.” Plenty of Americans wanted war anyway. The day after Kurland’s death, protestors surrounded the Saudi embassy, and polls showed that forty-six percent of Americans wanted to invade the Kingdom. The president asked for calm, saying that the United States needed to investigate. Blaming the Saudi government would be premature, especially since the government’s forces had nearly rescued Kurland, he said.

Abdullah and Saeed also spoke out. In carefully managed interviews on CNN two days after Kurland’s death, the men expressed sorrow for his killing and vowed to punish the perpetrators.

“Un-Islamic,” Abdullah said. “A tragedy.”

“Terrorists,” Saeed said. “A crime.”

The next day, Abdullah flew to Chicago for Kurland’s funeral. The service and burial were closed to the public, but the reports that the king would be attending sparked promises of protests. Despite pleas from the Kurland family, the president, and the archbishop of Chicago, hundreds of demonstrators tried to reach Holy Name Cathedral, but police in riot gear faced them down.

At the funeral, the president was cool as ever. “Graham could have chosen to serve anywhere. He was that big a donor,” the president said in his eulogy, and the mourners laughed politely, as they were meant to do. “But he wanted to go somewhere difficult. He wanted to make a difference. I hope that the way he died isn’t all we remember about him. That would be the truest tragedy.”

When it was Barbara’s turn to speak, she stood blankly before the mourners, shaking her head until her children came and led her down. Afterward, though, she found her voice. With a dozen Secret Service officers and FBI agents around her, she led Abdullah outside the cathedral to the makeshift pen where reporters and camera crews waited. In her long black dress and mourning gloves, she stood awkwardly next to the king, not quite touching him.

“I know in my heart that this is a good man,” she said. “He’s suffered, too. They killed his granddaughter two weeks ago. Graham liked him. Graham believed in diplomacy. Graham wouldn’t have wanted war.”

Graham wouldn’t have wanted war. The whispered words were played over and over. A week after the funeral, only twenty-seven percent of Americans wanted to invade. The Saudis did their part, too, arresting dozens of men, and making sure that every arrest was reported. “We won’t rest until all these criminals are in prison or dead,” Mansour said. “We’ll do whatever’s necessary to prove we’re a faithful ally.”

* * *

THE ROLE WELLS AND Gaffan had played was never disclosed. Officially, a Saudi task force had tracked down Kurland with the help of tips from Saudis appalled by the kidnapping. Off the record, Duto told his favorite scribblers at the Times and the Post that the CIA and NSA had provided crucial tips. Duto explained that the rescue had failed because the first man into the underground cell in Mecca, a Saudi Special Forces soldier named Jalal, fell as he entered and didn’t get a clean shot at Ahmad Bakr. The agency trusted the Saudi account of the rescue, because CIA operatives had interviewed Jalal and found him credible. His story also matched the physical evidence, Duto said.

Internally, the CIA and White House had a much darker view, of course. Once Bakr was identified, rolling up the remains of his network was easy. Finding his bosses proved more difficult. After four days of tracing bank accounts and wire transfers, the NSA and Treasury Department discovered Bakr’s paymaster: Walid Ibrahim, a previously unknown brigadier general in the Saudi National Guard. The real question was whether Ibrahim had acted on his own or on the orders of someone more senior. The even more real question was what the United States should do if a top royal was involved.

Despite the public’s anger, for once the CIA and Pentagon and State Department and White House were in agreement. A full-scale invasion was impossible. The sight of American soldiers occupying Mecca and Medina would infuriate Muslims everywhere. If the Saudis blew their oil fields, oil would go to at least two hundred dollars a barrel. And the princes had ruled their country so tightly that a viable opposition party didn’t exist. If they fell, Saudi Arabia would fall into the hands of radical Islamists — or into outright anarchy.

But allowing the perpetrators to escape was equally unacceptable. After two days of meetings, the president issued a secret finding that anyone who had supported Bakr’s group would be considered an “unlawful enemy combatant” subject to arrest and extradition. The finding continued: “If judicial remedies are found to be impossible to apply, I hereby authorize extrajudicial measures to penalize any and all conspirators. Such penalties shall apply whether conspirators had prior awareness of all Bakr’s plans.”

In plain English, anyone included would have to give himself up or face assassination, even if he didn’t know