The man raced off.
“You six fan out and start searching for bombs,” Kasim said. “When the sniffers arrive, we’ll send them over to you. For now, just look. If you find anything, leave it alone.”
The six men crept away into the night.
“The rest of you stay here with me. After we dress the replacement guards and they take their stations, we’ll need to deal with those going off shift.”
Three minutes later the replacement guards were dressed.
“Now,” Kasim said, “you watched what the others did, right?”
The men nodded vigorously.
“Just do the exact same thing.”
“Do we all go out together?” one of the men asked.
“No,” Kasim said, “the plan says the switch takes place one at a time. Starting at the northeast corner and moving counterclockwise.”
The clock read 1:57.
“You’re the first,” Kasim said, motioning to one of the men. “We’ll all follow and watch from a distance.”
The first faux guard walked through the courtyard. Kasim and his men hid at the edge of the building closest to the Kaaba and watched. He approached the northeast corner.
SOMETIMES EVEN THE best-thought-out plans are just that—plans. This one, cobbled together in a rush and lacking the Corporation’s usual finesse, was about to unravel like a cheap sweater. The guard Ralmein was due to relieve happened to also be his best friend. When someone else showed up instead, it raised more than concern. The real guard knew something was wrong.
“Who are you?” the guard said loudly in Arabic.
Kasim heard it and knew the problems were starting. The guard reached for a whistle on a chain around his neck. But before he could blow it the fake guard wrestled him to the ground.
“It’s a free-for-all,” Kasim yelled to his men. “Just don’t let anyone escape.”
KASIM, THE REMAINING three fake guards, and the four other men raced from their hiding spot and ran across to the Kaaba. They quickly subdued two more of the real guards but one managed to escape and ran toward the gate.
Kasim raced after him but the guard was fast. He had cleared the courtyard and was almost under the arch leading outside when one of the men looking for explosives stepped out of the shadows and clotheslined him with his arm.
The guard hit the stone flooring and was knocked out. A thin trickle of blood ran from the back of his head.
“Drag him over to the guard shack,” Kasim said as he raced over, “and wrap his head.”
The men grabbed the guard under his armpits and started dragging him away.
KASIM RACED BACK toward the Kaaba, made sure the fake guards were in place, then began to help remove the real ones to the guards’ building. When that was finished he stared at his wristwatch. The time was 2:08 A.M. Kasim raced for the gate to meet the CIA agent. A minute later the agent pulled up in the Suburban. He climbed out and took a box containing the sniffers out and set it down, then removed Abraham’s Stone—still in the box—off the rear seat.
“I’m Kasim, give me the stone.”
The agent hesitated. “I’m a Muslim,” Kasim said quickly. “Give me the stone.”
The agent handed the box to Kasim.
“Take the sniffers inside and hand them to the first man you see,” Kasim said. “Then get the hell out of here. This is not going as smoothly as we’d planned.”
“Okay,” the agent said.
Kasim, clutching the box to his waist, ran toward the entrance with the CIA agent right behind. Once inside the gate, the agent handed the box of sniffers to a man who raced over, then he stood for a second and watched as Kasim ran across the courtyard toward the curtain that hung over the Kaaba. Kasim was just slipping under the curtain when the agent turned and raced back to the Suburban.
A FEELING OF peace, tranquility and history flooded over Kasim as soon as he was under the curtain. For the briefest of moments he was filled with hope. A single spotlight cast a beam toward the silver frame where the Greenland meteorite was now displayed.
Kasim stepped closer, then set the box down and cut the tape on the seam with his knife. He reached up, wrested the Greenland meteorite from the frame and set it on the ground. Then he carefully lifted Abraham’s Stone from the box.
Slowly and reverently he put it back in its rightful place.
Then Kasim stood back, made a quick prayer, and gathered up the Greenland meteorite, which he placed back in the box. Slipping back under the curtain, he carried the box over to the guard’s building. The rest of the men were already searching the mosque with the sniffers when he reached for his phone.
SKUTTER SAT IN the passenger seat of the truck. The rest of his team sat in the rear. Just then the telephone rang.
“We’re watching you from above,” Hanley said. “There has been a slight change in plans—we don’t want you to go to Jeddah. We’re going to pull you out before that.”
“Where do you want us to go?” Skutter asked.
On the Oregon,Hanley was watching the infrared satellite image of the truck racing south. “Go six point two miles farther south,” Hanley said, “then pull over to the side of the road. There is a ship just offshore there now. They are sending in a shore boat to extract you from the cove there. Just get all your men aboard, Captain Skutter, and we’ll take it from there.”
“HOW MANY CHARGES had Kasim and his team found when he called?” Stone asked.
“Five,” Hanley said.
“Well, sir, I’d order him to leave the rest to the Saudis. I just intercepted a call from the wife of one of the guards. She was calling the local police to inquire why her husband was not home yet.”
“It’s two twenty-one!” Hanley thundered.
“Women,” Stone said, “are impossible to live with sometimes.”
Hanley reached for the phone.
Kasim was crouched down disabling a C-6 packet when his phone beeped.
“Get out now!” Hanley said.
“We haven’t covered the—” Kasim started to say.
“I’m ordering an immediate evac,” Hanley said. “This thing is blown. I have a truck in front to take you to your second escape hatch. Do you understand?”
“Got it, boss.”
“Now, go.”
JUST AS KASIM was placing the telephone back in his pocket, a CIA agent pulled up in front of the Great Mosque in a Ford extended-cab four-wheel-drive pickup truck. He nervously clutched the wheel as the seconds passed.
“That’s it,” Kasim shouted across the courtyard, “everyone to the gate.”
The four fake guards started to sprint across the courtyard as the others that were searching the grounds began to appear from behind buildings and pillars. Kasim raced through the gate and approached the truck.
“We’re coming out now,” he said to the driver.
“Load them in back,” the driver said, “and pull the tarp over them.”
Kasim lowered the rear tailgate and the men started climbing inside. Kasim counted them off, ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen. With him there were fourteen—one man was still inside. He raced for the gate and stared across the courtyard. The last man was sprinting across the distance.
“Sorry,” the man said as he ran over, “I was in the middle of a disarm when you shouted.”
Kasim grabbed him by the arm and pushed him along. “Get in the back,” he yelled when they reached the truck.
Then Kasim pulled the tarp over his team and climbed in front with the driver.
“You know where we’re going?” he asked as the driver slid the Ford into gear and hit the gas.
“Oh yeah,” the driver said.
U.S. AIR FORCE Major Hamilton Reeves understood both the need for military decorum as well as having a loose hand with his crew. Hanging the radio microphone back in the holder, he turned to his copilot and flight engineer.