Blowback (38 page)

Driving around the block, Reynolds brought the Land Cruiser to a screeching halt in front of the abandoned building Zafir was using as his lookout. Harvath and Reynolds pounded up the stairs and burst out onto the rooftop. Zafir was slumped over his rifle, the walkie-talkie still propped against the wall next to him. Harvath rolled him over and saw that his throat had been cut from ear to ear.

Reynolds lost it. “Those goddamn animals, “He cursed.

Crossing to an adjacent roof, Harvath found a plastic tarp and brought it back over to wrap around Zafir’s body.

The two men worked in silence, and once they had carried the fallen Pakistani downstairs and loaded him in the back of the Land Cruiser, Reynolds said, “I don’t care what it takes. I want the people who are responsible for this.”

“We both do,” replied Harvath. “Believe me.”

The crowd that had gathered to gawk at the smoldering ruins of the warehouse was growing, and given the recent riots that had been springing up all around Riyadh, Harvath suggested they get back in the truck and get moving to someplace safer.

On the way to Reynolds’s Aramco offices, they were forced to detour around several small but violent civil insurrections, which Saudi Security Forces nevertheless were having trouble putting down. “They won’t shoot their own people. That’s their problem,” said Reynolds coldly as they passed yet another. “The same thing happened in Mecca in the seventies. They finally had to call in French GIGN units to help them recapture the Grand Mosque.”

Yet another reference to Mecca. Everything in Saudi Arabia seemed inexorably linked to the two greatest shrines in Islam, Mecca and Medina. “Do you know about any secret spring there?” asked Harvath.

“I’ve heard some cock-and-bull story our little exporter Prince Hamal was spreading about one, but who knows? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Saudi Arabia has more secrets than it does sand. The key is knowing which secrets to leave buried.”

“Well, this definitely isn’t one of them,” said Harvath.

“Do you think that’s what’s in those bottles?”

“That’s what we intend to find out,” said Jillian.

“Does Aramco have a lab that she can use?” asked Harvath.

Reynolds looked at his watch. “At this hour it should be completely empty.”

“Good. We’ll need to get her set up right away. In the meantime, what else can you tell me about the prince who owned that warehouse and the militants he’s been working with?”

“Quite a bit,” replied Reynolds. “I’ve got backup copies of my dossiers on all of them back at my office.”

“Including photos?”

“Including photos. Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I know what their next move is going to be.”

After setting Jillian up in Aramco’s extensive, state-of-the-art lab with her samples and arranging for one of his men to take care of Zafir’s body, Reynolds led Harvath to the elevator and up to where the corporate security offices were located.

His supply of prayer rugs now depleted, Reynolds had forgone the Remington in favor of the Les Baer 1911 pistol he had secreted under the front seat of his Land Cruiser. Upon seeing his office door standing wide open, he pulled the weapon from his ankle holster and motioned for Harvath to be quiet.

Having ditched the Koran briefcase back at the warehouse, Harvath drew his H amp;K from the plastic trash bag he was now using and covered their six as he and Reynolds crept down the hallway toward his office. Stepping inside, they saw that it had been completely ransacked.

“Goddamn it,” spat Reynolds as he picked up his phone and called the security desk downstairs. After a terse conversation in Arabic, he hung up and said, “I can’t believe it. They let the deputy intelligence minister, Faruq al-Hafez, up here.”

“The one you saw meeting with the militants and the members of the different military branches?”

“He said it was official business.”

“You think he did this?” asked Harvath.

“Oh, yeah. And I’d be willing to bet he was behind what just happened at the warehouse,” said Reynolds as he pulled a bottle of Bushmills from his credenza and poured himself a drink. “When I made my first trip there, I butt-stroked a guy with my Remington. He must have seen enough of my face to describe me to Faruq. You want one?” he added, holding up another glass.

“No thanks,” replied Harvath. “How can you be so sure he’s involved?”

Reynolds took a long swallow of the Irish whiskey and said, “ Saudi Arabia has two militaries. One of them is the Saudi Arabian National Guard, which as you so succinctly put it in the warehouse is loyal to the Saudi Royal Family, the al-Sauds. The other is the Royal Saudi Land Forces, ostensibly established to protect against all external threats to the kingdom, but which in reality was created as a balance against the SANG, should the Royal Family decide to wipe out any of the clans hostile to the al-Sauds.”

“Let me guess,” said Harvath. “Faruq is from a clan hostile to the Royal Family.”

“Bingo.”

“How the hell did he get his job then?”

“Just like marrying two children from warring factions, the Saudi Family has put a lot of their lesser enemies in positions of moderate power in hopes of securing their loyalty.”

Harvath shook his head. “A lot of good it did them in this case.”

“Actually,” said Reynolds, “Faruq was extremely loyal for a very long time. He uncovered numerous plots against the Monarchy, even within his own clan, and brought the perpetrators to justice.”

“So why the change?”

“He found religion.”

“Wahhabism,” said Harvath, the disgust evident in his voice.

“Yup, and there’s nothing worse than a born-again Muslim.”

“But doesn’t the Royal Family know he’s gone the Wahhabi route?”

“I would hope so. Faruq’s boss is one of the Saudi princes-Prince Nawaf bin Abdul Aziz. If Aziz isn’t keeping up on this kind of stuff, he’s got no one but himself to blame if things go south. The problem is that the Royal Family operates under a very clouded delusion that it’s still in control. Until a man like Faruq fucks up, they think everything is okay.”

“In this case, though, once Faruq fucks up, it’s going to be too late for the Saudis to do anything.”

“Exactly,” said Reynolds as he took another sip. “All the rioting we’re seeing? Faruq’s the perfect person to have sowed the rumors among the Wahhabi leadership. He easily could have fabricated enough evidence to support the claims of a U.S.-influenced crackdown by the monarchy and the police. In fact, he is in a perfect position to actually orchestrate police crackdowns, giving the militants prime examples to rally behind.”

“Which brings us to the other reason I’m here. Kalachka said the unrest would escalate to such a point that the Saudi Monarchy would have no choice but to come to the table and meet with the Wahhabi leadership. That’s where he plans to have the leadership killed, making it look like the Royal Family was behind it and setting the wheels of a full-on revolution in motion.”

“And with the country’s fall to the Wahhabis, so begins the resurgence of the Muslim caliphate across the Islamic world. More than one billion strong.”

Harvath nodded his head and said, “Listen, Chip, my first priority is to get to the bottom of whatever this illness is and find a way to stop it. If we can screw Kalachka’s plans up in the process, then all the better.”

Reynolds set down his drink. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need to find out where and when that meeting between the Saudi Monarchy and the Wahhabi hierarchy is going to take place. That’s where Kalachka’s people are going to make their move, and if I’m right, Prince Hamal is going to help them do it. He and Kalachka are the only people who can give us the answers we need.”

“Wait a second. You think Hamal and those militants are going to pull the trigger? They’re all Wahhabis. Why would they be party to killing their own religious leaders?”

“Because,” replied Harvath, an adept student of militant Islam, “with Paradise assured for the Wahhabi leadership, if it takes their deaths to bring about a greater good for the rest of the Islamic people, they won’t hesitate to take them out.”

WESTERN HEJAZI MOUNTAINS

SAUDI ARABIA

With a few well-placed phone calls, Reynolds discovered that just as Kalachka had predicted, the Wahhabi leadership had managed to force the Saudi Royal Family to the table. But because of the rioting, the Royal Family had been afraid to return to Riyadh for the summit. Instead, they had insisted the Wahhabis come to them at their summer capital just north of At’Taif in the Western Hejazi Mountains.

The Royal Family had been relocating to these lush mountains, known as the garden spot of the Saudi Kingdom, for decades in order to avoid the superheated summer temperatures of Riyadh. As a result, all of the most important members of the Royal Family had palaces built in and around At’Taif.

Less than sixty kilometers from the holy city of Mecca, At’Taif was also home to the King Fahad Air Base, which housed both the Royal Saudi Air Force’s 5th Fighter Squadron and the Royal Saudi Air Force’s Western Approach Region Air Defense radar complex, responsible for guarding the kingdom’s airspace against hostile penetration.

With opulent summer palaces lying cheek-by-jowl with modern military complexes, all that was missing from the dysfunctional Saudi dream site was religion, and At’Taif had that too. For almost one hundred years, the area surrounding At’Taif had been the principal stronghold of the ultra-conservative Wahhabi faith. In a sense, for the Wahhabi religious leaders traveling in from Riyadh, it was like coming home.

They arrived by a private jet that had been magnanimously chartered for them, only after they had vociferously complained about the Royal Family’s unwillingness to meet in Riyadh. Everyone knew the relationship between the Monarchy and the Wahhabis was teetering on the edge of disaster and the credibility of both sides hinged on being able to demonstrate that they acted in good faith in everything they did.

Not above subtle power plays, and in fact quite dependant upon them, the Royal Family chose to hold the summit in the most intimidating palace at their disposal, that of Crown Prince Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz, de facto ruler of the Saudi Kingdom. In addition to Prince Abdullah, other family members in attendance were Saudi defense minister, Prince Sultan bin Abdul Aziz, and Prince Nawaf bin Abdul Aziz, minister of state intelligence. There was a good chance the summit was going to get very heated, and Abdullah wanted as few witnesses to the hostilities as possible. His family had made a big mistake paying what amounted to protection money to build mosques and schools and contributing to the other pet projects of the radical Wahhabis, and he was sick of them running roughshod over his country. They, not the Royal Family, had set loose upon the world the specter of modern Islamist terrorism and as a result had not only blackened both of Saudi Arabia ’s eyes, but those of the Muslim religion at large. For once and for all, the Wahhabis would listen to him and not vice versa.

With all of the different soldiers standing guard, landing at the King Fahad Air Base reminded Harvath of arriving with the president aboard Air Force One at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland.

The early morning air was cool and markedly different from Riyadh as they descended the Citation X’s stairs. Jillian had worked through the night, analyzing her samples and conferring with the Whitcombs and other USAMRIID personnel back at Fort Detrick. Concurrent with their discussions, teams of FBI and Hazmat agents, warrants in hand, were busy raiding the warehouse of Kaseem Najjar, as well as the cash-heavy businesses owned by every name on the list Chip Reynolds had discovered in Prince Hamal’s Riyadh warehouse. Anything and everything that was suspect was placed into airtight containers and transported back to Fort Detrick for further analysis.

Based on the brain tissue samples from Hannibal’s elite guard, the Whitcombs had been able to confirm what Alan had suspected-rabies was indeed a prime component of the illness, and the elite guard had been inoculated against it. But inoculation against rabies alone only increased resistance to the illness-it didn’t make people one hundred percent immune. This information explained why one of the victims strapped to the ceiling of the Provincial Ministry of Police building in Asalaam-a former veterinarian-was still alive when the Stryker Brigade Combat Team arrived. Another part was still missing from the puzzle.

Hoping to buy time, USAMRIID and the CDC had ordered all first responders to be treated with hyperimmune antirabies serum. The Herculean effort to collect enough doses and have them shipped around the country as quickly as possible was now under way.

In the meantime, Harvath had held a lengthy phone conversation with Gary Lawlor. In the belief that standard rabies vaccine had just bought them more time, Lawlor officially bifurcated Harvath’s assignment. Not only was he to do everything he could to uncover both the source and any possible cure for the illness, but he had been additionally instructed to do whatever was necessary to prevent the assassination of the Wahhabi leadership, which all the political minds back in DC agreed would plunge Saudi Arabia into an all-out revolution.

For years, American military and intelligence strategists had been preparing for the possibility of a coup in Saudi Arabia. If the Royal Family was overthrown, a full-blown military operation, codenamed Sandstorm, would go into immediate effect. The plan called for mobilizing U.S. armed forces to slice the eastern Saudi province of al-Hasa off from the rest of the country and place it under American control, thereby preventing the Wahhabi extremists from occupying the world’s largest proven oil reserves. At this point, though, there was just one problem. The intense summer heat made it nearly impossible to fight in full chem-bio combat gear. Until they were inoculated, neither the U.S. nor any of its allies could fully field enough troops to put Operation Sandstorm into effect.

There was also one other problem. Though it had never been proven and was much debated after the Iraq WMD intelligence fiasco, Washington was well aware that Saudi Arabia had pumped over a billion dollars into Pakistan ’s nuclear program. Despite repeated denials by the Saudis, there were many who were willing to stake their careers on their belief that in exchange for their generous contributions to Pakistani scientific advancement, the Saudis received one or more nuclear weapons.

Though Gary Lawlor was reluctant to heap more upon Harvath, he had no choice. Equally as important as getting to the bottom of halting the illness was preventing the Royal House of Saud from losing its grip on power.

Not knowing who might be plotting against the kingdom from the inside, Lawlor was afraid to reach out to anyone in the local diplomatic or intelligence food chain on Harvath’s behalf. It was common knowledge that the office of the Saudi Crown Prince leaked worse than a sieve, so a direct call from the president was out of the question. Finding someone they could trust and who would cooperate with them to get Harvath inside would take time, and time was something they were very quickly running out of. Harvath, though, had an idea and knew someone who might be able to make it happen and make it happen fast-Chip Reynolds.

Coached by Harvath on exactly what to say, Reynolds had played the best card at his disposal. Following Harvath’s script word-for-word, Reynolds contacted one of the few honest men he knew in the Crown Prince’s court-a man he hoped wasn’t involved with any attempts at overthrowing the al-Sauds-and told him that he needed an immediate audience. With the seriousness of the summit looming over them, the advisor was reluctant to even broach the subject with the Crown Prince, but with Harvath signaling for him to keep going, Reynolds pressed on.

If there was one thing the Arabs were good about rewarding, it was loyalty. Reynolds had not only saved the life of a member of the Royal Family, but had also been an excellent head of security for Aramco. If the ex-CIA man really had information about a threat against the Crown Prince’s life, then the advisor had no other choice but to make sure he was heard.

Reynolds hated using a lie to gain access to the prince, but he knew it would be the only way they would get a meeting. Eliciting a promise from the advisor not to mention the plot to anyone but the Crown Prince himself, Reynolds hung up the phone and waited with Harvath for what seemed like an eternity for a response from At’Taif. When the call finally came, Reynolds was told that the Crown Prince was willing to see him and the two witnesses he sought to bring along who had “firsthand” knowledge of the plot.

Now, as the trio was bundled into one of Abdullah’s heavily armored Suburbans and driven toward his summer palace, Harvath prayed not only that Abdullah would believe them, but that he would agree to turn over one of the most highly visible and highly volatile members of the Royal Family.