"Your partner, too! Tell him to drop his weapon."
Payne nodded at Jones, who followed Payne's instructions. "We are not here to hurt anyone. We are here to help. Your government should have told you."
"Told us what?"
"We are here to save the Great Mosque."
The officer shook his head. "We know nothing of your tale."
"Then you need to call it in. For your sake and ours. We have permission to be here."
"What does it hurt?" Jones added. "Call it in."
The mutaween whispered to each other in Arabic, discussing what they should do. Currently, they were in a position of power. Both of them were armed and far enough away from the suspects, who willingly surrendered their weapons, that they couldn't be attacked without getting off several deadly shots. Besides, if what the Americans were allying was accurate-that they did have authorization to be-in Mecca-then harming them would result in the mutaween's dismissal. Or even worse. Their bosses did not lake kindly to incompetence.
Finally, the officer spoke.
"You," he said, pointing at Jones, "move closer to your 11 friend."
Jones raised his hands in surrender and took several steps toward Payne.
"Stop right there."
He nodded and stopped about five feet away.
The officer returned his attention to Payne. "Who is your contact?"
"His name and number are programmed into my phone." Payne pointed toward the bag that sat near his right foot. "May I reach inside and get it?"
More whispering in Arabic. Then an answer in English. "Slowly."
"Understood."
Payne bent at his waist and inched his hand inside the bag. He fumbled around for a bit, his hand hidden from sight. An action that spooked the mutaween.
"What are you doing? Let me see your hand."
"Relax," he said. "I already gave you my gun. My partner gave you his gun. I am simply accessing my phone. It is password-protected. I cannot read the screen without the code."
"Let me see the phone. Let me see your hand!"
"Don't worry. I'm almost done. Just a couple more buttons."
"He's almost done," echoed Jones, who appeared borderline serene despite everything that was going on. "He's just getting the name of our contact."
"Let me see your-"
"There!" Payne blurted. "The phone has been accessed. Now you can make the call yourself. He will tell you everything you need to know."
"What is his name?"
"His name is Jabaal. He works for your government. Just talk to him and he will tell you everything. You will see."
The officers whispered again, discussing who should make the call.
"Should I toss you the phone?" Payne asked, reaching toward his bag.
"Stop!" the officer shouted. "Leave it alone. Back up ten steps and leave the bag there."
"Fine," Payne grunted. "We'll both back up. Ten giant steps."
Jones looked at him in understanding. "We're backing up."
"Giant steps," Payne mumbled. "Ten giant steps."
One.
They kept their hands in the air. The perfect prisoners.
Two.
The mutaween moved closer, never taking their eyes off Payne or Jones.
Three.
Each step was huge. Getting as far away as possible.
Four.
More words in Arabic. Discussing their situation.
Five.
Payne scanned the plaza, searching for additional guards.
Six.
The officer reached the bag and tapped it with his foot.
Seven.
Jones glanced at Payne, ready to move.
Eight.
Still aiming his gun, the officer dropped to his knees.
Nine.
Confused, he opened the bag and glanced inside.
Ten.
Payne and Jones grinned, covering their ears.
The timer, which Payne had set a moment before, sent a burst of electricity to the primer, which triggered the main explosive. The C-4 erupted with a vengeance, shredding the mutaween like they'd been struck by the sword of God, spraying chunks of bone and blood across the open courtyard and knocking Payne and Jones backward onto the hard ground.
If they had been any closer, they would have been in the kill zone.
But their giant steps backward had saved their lives.
It took several seconds before Payne was able to shake off the blast. When he did, he crawled over to Jones, who was rubbing his eyes, trying to refocus. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, even though he wasn't sure. "What about you?"
"I'm better than them."
51
Tuesday, January 2
Taif, Saudi Arabia
Payne and Jones were battered and bruised, but they reported to Colonel Harrington's office as soon as the Taif medical staff cleared them for duty. Each had sustained minor injuries, compliments of the bomb blast, but nothing a few days of rest couldn't cure.
Unfortunately, they realized a vacation would have to wait.
Harrington sat behind a large desk, staring at his computer screen, anxiously jotting notes on a legal pad. Every lime he opened a new file, he flipped a page and started again. His concentration was so intense he didn't notice I'ayne standing in the doorway.
"Colonel, you wanted to see us?"
Harrington glanced up. "Gentlemen, please have a seat. I'll be right with you."
Payne walked in first, followed by Jones. Both moved slower than normal, still feeling the effects of the previous day-one that had spanned several time zones and resulted in multiple bruises. Adrenaline had carried them through their mission, but now that they were back on base, the only thing that kept them going was their thirst for answers. And a lot of coffee.
"First of all," Harrington said as he finished writing, "let me thank you again. I know we talked briefly when you arrived last night, yet somehow I feel the need to repeat myself. Thanks to you, a major crisis was averted, and I just wanted to express my appreciation."
Payne and Jones said nothing, realizing that Harrington wasn't finished.
"That being said, there are still a number of loose ends that need to be dealt with, some of them more puzzling than others." He turned the pages of his notebook and focused on the first item. A single name was written: Shari Shasmeen. "What can you tell me about the girl?"
"Not much," Payne admitted. "We found her tied up and beaten pretty badly in a back room. She was in charge of some archaeological dig and gave us a tour of the maintenance tunnel before our assault. Other than that, we didn't have much time to chat."
"Yet you brought her back with you?"
Payne nodded. "After the blast, we slipped past the Saudi guards by going out the same tunnel. When we got back to the entrance, she was still standing there, unable to leave without a chaperone because of all the mutaween running around."
Jones added, "We figured she needed a way out, and we needed more information about Abdul-Khaliq. It seemed like a match made in heaven."
"On the trip home, did she tell you anything about the envelope?"
"Not really," Payne said. "She slept the whole way back. Why? What was inside?"
"Two things," Harrington answered, glancing at his notepad. "One of them is confusing, the other we're still trying to decipher. While you two were getting your beauty rest, my team spent the night trying to connect the dots. In fact, that's what I was working on when you walked in."
"Go on."
Harrington grabbed a manila folder that sat on the corner of his desk. Inside, there was a single document. He took it out and handed it to Payne. "Don't worry. It's not the original. We sent that out for testing."