The sheet was folded in two. It was written in English and had a simple logo on the front, a similar design on the back. Payne opened it and scanned the listings. He saw everything from nachos to hamburgers to chicken fingers. "What the hell is this?"
"It's a take-out menu from the restaurant at Al-Gaim. We found it inside the envelope."
"Someone sent her a menu? That doesn't make sense."
"Like I said, it's confusing."
Payne handed it to Jones, who stared at the menu with great interest. He studied everything, paying particular attention to the interior text.
"Do you see something?" Payne asked.
Jones nodded, smiling. "The club sandwich looks good."
Payne ignored the comment, knowing that he would continue.
"Actually," Jones said, "the menu doesn't bother me. It's what it represents that bothers me."
"Meaning?"
"Whoever sent the envelope knew about Schmidt long before we did."
"How so?" Harrington demanded.
"Two years ago, when Schmidt's unit was killed at the hospital, where were you housing their families?"
"Al-Gaim."
"And when Schmidt attacked the towers, what was his access point?"
"The tunnel," Payne answered.
"Obviously that's not a coincidence. Whoever sent the package knew about Schmidt, knew about his motivation, and knew where he was going to attack several days in advance. Of course, that triggers a floodgate of questions that I'd rather not think about until I know what else was inside the package. That might put things in a proper context."
Nodding in agreement, Harrington grabbed another manila folder. This time he handed it to Jones. "We found this taped inside the menu."
Jones opened the folder and stared at the image. It was a picture of an SD card, a computer storage device that was slightly bigger than a postage stamp yet capable of holding gigabytes of information. Some held more data than a DVD. "What's on it?"
"We're still trying to figure that out," Harrington admitted. "All of the files are encrypted, including one substantial video file that we've been working on all night. Once we crack the code, we should know a whole lot more. I'm expecting to hear something soon."
"In the meantime," Payne suggested, "would you mind if we talked to Shari? Since we bailed her out, I'm sure she'd be willing to open up. Who knows what she might know?"
Harrington smiled. "I think that's a great idea. In fact, I've already set it up. She's waiting for you down the hall."
Shari Shasmeen paced back and forth in the interview room. Her nose was covered in white tape; her eyes were black and swollen. She looked like a prizefighter the morning after a bad loss.
When Payne opened the door, she stopped and broke into a huge grin. The stress that had been evident a moment before was replaced with instant relief. "Thank God, it's you."
Payne smiled at her comment. "God's a little formal. You can call me Jon."
Jones followed him into the room, closing the door. "And I'm D.J."
She gave each of them a hug. "It's great to see you both. It really is."
Payne pulled out the chair that faced the video camera, mounted on the ceiling, and helped her sit down. "Are you okay? You seem upset."
"What can I say? It's been a rough couple of days." She took a deep breath, trying to relax. "I guess I shouldn't complain. Things could've been a lot worse. I mean, I could be dead. But-"
"But what?"
"But I was this close to making a major discovery. This close to a fulfilling a dream. And right before I could grasp it, it was taken away."
"You mean the site?"
She nodded, an aggrieved look in her eyes.
"You know," Payne said, "we still don't know much about your time in Mecca. What you were looking for, how you were recruited, and so on. If you don't mind, we'd love lo ask you some questions about your work."
"Of course. Whatever you need."
"Let's start with the basics. Who hired you for the dig?"
"His name is Omar Abdul-Khaliq, a wealthy Saudi with ii vast network of connections. A few months ago, he con-luclcd me by phone and asked if I'd be interested in running a team in Arabia. He'd heard about my research and lell I'd be the perfect person for the job. Clearly, it was lliitlering-especially when he told me that the dig would he in Mecca. Until then, I never thought I'd have a chance in work there."
Jones asked, "Because of your religion?"
"And my sex. Mecca doesn't look kindly on either."
"But he got you inside?"
"Me and the others. All of us were Americans. None of us were Muslims. He said he was looking for the strongest team possible and felt we would work well together. So he got us the appropriate paperwork and snuck us into the city."
"And you weren't hassled?"
"Not once. I'm not sure how Omar pulled it off, but we were never bothered at the site. At least not until recently. Obviously, things changed drastically over the past few days."
52
Payne was known for his ability to read people. And in this case, he had nothing but positive feelings about Shari Shasmeen. She might have worked for Omar Abdul-Khaliq, but she sure as hell wasn't helping him. At least not knowingly.
"When did things start to go bad?" he asked.
"About a week ago, I called Omar to update him on our progress. When I told him that we were getting ready to verify the site, he was thrilled with the news. At that time he was out of the country but said as soon as he returned he was going to stop by for the big unveiling."
"Did he ever make it?" Jones wondered.
She shook her head. "A few days later he called to let me know that he'd been delayed. However, he was so confident that he'd make it to Mecca in the next day or two that he was going to have a package delivered to the site. He hinted that it was very important but wouldn't tell me what was inside."
Payne asked, "When did it show up?"
"On Saturday afternoon."
Payne nodded. That meant whoever sent it knew about the attack at least two days before it happened. "And what can you tell me about the delivery guy?"
She closed her eyes and tried to remember. "Middle-aged. Tan complexion. Probably Middle Eastern. But no trace of an accent. I'm guessing American."
Jones glanced at Payne. "What's with all the Americans?"
"I was wondering the same thing." He paused for a moment, trying to figure out the significance, before he returned his attention to Shari. "What happened next?"
"He gave me the envelope and left."
"No conversations. No clues about who he was or where he was going."
She shook her head. "We found him about an hour later. Someone had slit his throat and dumped his body by the exit. There was blood everywhere. After that, I did the only thing I could. I called Omar and told him what had happened."
Payne nodded. "How did he react?"
"He was calm. No hint of panic. He said he'd take care of it. Less than an hour later, a team of guards showed up and removed the body."
"Were they Americans?" Jones asked.
"No," she said. "They were Arabs."
She gave them a basic description of the guards and explained how Omar ordered her to leave the tunnel until the hajj was over. He said the Arabs would protect the site while she explored the city or stayed in the safety of her hotel room, which was a few miles away.
"Yet we found you in the tunnel," Payne commented.
"What can I say? I'm stubborn. I stopped by to get some work done late Sunday night, and the place was empty. No guards in sight. They didn't show up until Monday morning. And when they arrived, they were carrying tools."
"And that's when they attacked you?"
She nodded. "After that, everything's fuzzy."