The Devil's Light (45 page)

Khazei stared at her. With a trace of scorn, he said, “You spies have complicated minds. First a truck, now an airfield. Why would al Qaeda make things so difficult?”

Slowly, Anit gazed up at him. “Because of your intelligence network, they won't try to move this bomb through the valley. Nor would they have a truck meet them somewhere, allowing you to follow it. Humor us.”

Brooke noted Nouri watching this exchange, eyes glinting with amusement and, perhaps, antipathy for Anit. In a rough voice, Khazei said, “There are no airstrips there, just fields. When I was a boy, the CIA landed planes on one of them, supplying arms for the Christian butchers to kill Muslims.”

Palms on the table, Brooke leaned over the map. “What area are we talking about?”

Khazei traced a circle in the hills north of Rashaya. “Here, I would say.”

“How many men can you deploy?”

Khazei shrugged. “Enough.” “Then we should go there at once.”

Khazei turned to Anit, his front teeth showing in a cynical smile. “Define ‘we,'” he said to her. “Do you expect visitors from the entity you call ‘Israel'?”

“No.”

“Then you won't need your phones.”

“If we can't call our superiors,” Brooke interjected, “they may get nervous—”

“Let them,” Khazei snapped. “If Jews start falling from the sky, you'll both get bullets in the head.”

Brooke stared at him. “And if they don't, killing us would be stupid. You won't just have visitors falling from the sky, but bombs.”

Khazei flashed the same sardonic smile. “Of course. Dropping bombs is what Zionists do best. Especially on civilians.”

Brooke looked from Khazei to Nouri. “Enough of this,” he said. “You must be taking us with you for a reason.”

“It is as you suggested,” Nouri coolly replied. “You've become witnesses to our good faith.”

Anit glanced at Brooke. Through the brief current of their eye contact, they shared a common thought—whether at the hands of al Qaeda or Hezbollah, they would die. Then Brooke told Nouri softly, “Whatever else, don't keep the bomb. Not even using it would save you.”

Silent, Nouri gave him an enigmatic smile. “Put your cell phones on the table,” Khazei ordered.

Brooke complied, then Anit. “Do whatever you need to,” Brooke told Khazei. “September 11 comes eight hours from now.”

W
ithin minutes, Brooke, Anit, Khazei, and his lieutenant, Mahmoud Nidal, were headed toward Rashaya in a land rover, followed by two trucks filled with fighters who had seemed to materialize from nowhere. In the privacy of the backseat, Brooke pressed Grey's good luck elephant into Anit's hand. When she looked into his face, asking why, he smiled and murmured, “Keep this. I don't want anything happening to it.” Briefly, she touched his hand, then put the elephant in her pocket. There was nothing more to say.

At dusk, they stopped beside a broad, open field at the foot of the mountains, its brown earth dark with shadows cast by the fading sun. Khazei ordered Nidal to turn off the headlights. Glancing over his shoulder, he told Brooke, “This is the place.”

“Are there many others like it?”

“None so close to the mountains.” He pointed toward bare rocky hills on which Brooke could discern a dirt road hacked like a scar into the harsh earth. “On that hill are several caves concealed by ledges, one or two large enough to hold a truck. Partway down the hillside there's the abandoned aqueduct that's open at both ends. This place is our best guess.”

“How will you search it?”

Khazei glanced at Anit, allowing himself a cold smile. “As this ‘archaeologist' well knows, our fighters in the area are equipped with AK-47s, RPGs, night vision goggles, radios, and cell phones. Some are in land cruisers on which machine guns are mounted; others in vans or pickup
trucks. When night falls, we'll scour the aqueduct first, then the caves.” Khazei scanned the hillside with keen eyes. “We'll find either something or nothing. But the small force you envision can't possibly resist us. Nor,” he told Anit curtly, “could a deputation of Jews.”

Anit remained silent and composed. Scanning the empty field, Brooke said in Arabic, “What's paramount is to disarm any plane that lands—shoot up the cockpit and gas tank, sheer off the wings with RPGs. A plane is the only means of getting the bomb to Tel Aviv. Wherever they may be, al Qaeda has to meet it.”

Khazei gave him a sharp look. “I don't need schooling in the obvious. We'll place some men around the field with rifles and RPGs. But if your scenario is right, tonight is one day early.”

“Perhaps not. Killing that Palestinian may have warned them.”

“Too bad,” Khazei said in the same harsh tone. “Suppose al Qaeda succeeds in loading the bomb on this plane, and one of our RPGs hits it. Will it detonate? If so, better over the Zionists than here.”

As Nidal turned to listen, Brooke quickly shook his head. “It's not designed that way. In America, we move these weapons around at will.”

Khazei scowled. “But you can't guarantee its safety.”

“To a degree, yes. This bomb contains uranium, which puts out very little harmful radiation. Also, it's made to detonate only at a certain elevation. If the plane crashes without reaching that height, or gets blown up in the air, this bomb won't go off. Even a direct hit won't cause total detonation.” He paused, looking from Khazei to Nidal. “Still, it's much better not to hit this thing with an RPG. A partial detonation would be more than enough to kill us all.”

Khazei gave him a hard look. “If the bomb is on the plane, we'll let it go to Tel Aviv. The Jews can deal with it.”

Nidal kept watching Brooke, his thin, bearded face radiating suspicion. “Can al Qaeda bypass this system?” he asked.

Brooke considered his answer. Their technician could, he thought. Instead he replied, “That would be stupid. They want no accidents in Lebanon.”

“Nor do we,” Khazei said firmly. “Best to seize this bomb on the ground, with the greatest care.” Again he faced the hillside. “There's only one road from up there, with branches on both sides of this field. Al Qaeda would have to use it. We'll block the road on either side, then start our search.”

Brooke glanced at Anit. Her expression was bleak, as if she were being forced to watch gamblers dicing over the fate of Israel.

“Pray,” Khazei said to her. “If this bomb is ready to detonate, al Qaeda could stage a suicide bombing no martyr could imagine.”

In the cave, Al Zaroor fired his Luger once, its silencer repressing all sounds but the thud of his bullet striking flesh and bone. He put the Luger in his waistband. Sliding down the side of the cave, the Pakistani gaped at him, brains and blood seeping from the bullet hole in his forehead. The others watched, eyes filled with shock and fear.

Al Zaroor put the Luger back in his waistband. “His work was done,” he told them calmly, “the weapon prepared. If captured, he would have betrayed the man who helped us acquire it. I promised him that would never happen.” Ignoring the dead man, he pointed to the crate. “Open the top, then load it in the second van—”

His cell phone buzzed. “My flight is delayed,” Rajah said quickly. “Tell my aunt I'll try tomorrow.”

Al Zaroor smiled in satisfaction. “Pray God she lives.”

He shut off the phone, looking around him. Most of the cave was dark; only where they stood was there enough light to illuminate the two vans. Checking his watch, Al Zaroor told the others, “Soon the roads should be clear—the Shia tend not to drive at night. God willing, no one will see us.”

“Inshallah,”
Asif repeated with the softness of a prayer.

Checking his watch, Al Zaroor faced him. “We can take no chances. At ten o'clock, you will drive the first truck alone, turning off your headlights only after you leave the cave. If anyone is out there, it's you I want them to see.”

“I understand.”

Al Zaroor nodded. “One more time, tell me what you'll do.”

Composing his face as he recited, Asif looked and sounded like a student in a madrassa. “A hundred feet down the hillside I'll reach the dirt path. I'll turn right and take it to the paved road, driving fast without lights to draw the suspicion of anyone who may be watching. Then I'll drive north until someone tries to stop me.”

“And if they do?”

“I'll report this on my radio.” Asif paused, then finished in a determined voice, “Then I'll become a martyr. They'll learn nothing.”

Al Zaroor felt a surge of affection. Quickly, he embraced him, then looked into his face. “I know this, brother. On earth or in paradise, you will witness our success.”

Standing on the hillside, Brooke and Khazei surveyed its slopes, their forearms resting on a rock. Anit watched from behind them. All they saw was thin moonlight and shadows, the outline of jagged rocks and stubby trees. The silence was complete.

Nearby, Nidal and several fighters in two land cruisers were hidden by massive rocks. More fighters were stationed at the field, and where both forks of the dirt path reached the paved road running past it. “Where's the aqueduct?” Brooke asked.

Khazei pointed down the slope. “See those two boulders? The aqueduct is just behind that. Our men in land cruisers are driving through it—it's a good place to hide, and it ends at the airfield. If anyone is there, we'll seal it off.”

“And if not?”

“Then we'll search the cave,” Khazei answered sharply. “With luck, whoever may be there is sleeping, conserving their strength for tomorrow. But I mean to confront them with overwhelming force.” His voice became flat. “Better yet, all this is a mirage, and Bin Laden will keep his promise to America. I prefer the valley as it is tonight.”

There was nothing for Brooke to say. He was standing on a hillside with a general from Hezbollah, perhaps to no purpose, as Shia fighters searched for a bomb. Maybe Anit was wondering if one of them had killed Meir.

He turned to her. She looked back at him in the moonlight, summoning a faint smile, and moved forward to stand near him. Her footsteps crunched the rocks and dirt.

As Khazei reached for a cell phone, Brooke glanced at his other pocket and saw the bulge of his own cell phone and Anit's. Khazei held the phone to his ear, listening, then gave terse orders. “Search the largest cave. Yasir knows the one.” Turning to Brooke, he said, “The aqueduct was empty.”

Putting on night goggles, Khazei surveyed the terrain above them.

“What time is it?” Brooke asked.

Khazei eyed his illuminated watch. “A little after ten.”

From the hillside above them came a sudden streak of light, vanishing abruptly. “What's that?” Brooke asked swiftly.

Khazei snatched off the goggles, handing them to Brooke. He saw a white van careening down the hillside. Khazei spat orders into his phone. “Go after it.”

The van reached the road and turned sharply right. At both ends, land cruisers blocked its path. Accelerating, the van sped toward those in front of it.

“What's he doing?” Anit said tightly.

Brooke heard the crackle of gunfire. From all sides of the van headlights flashed on, a converging circle of attackers. Through the night goggles, Brooke saw Hezbollah fighters jumping out of trucks. In seconds, the van would hit the first land cruiser in its path.

“Suicide,” Anit said.

No,
Brooke thought suddenly.
Another decoy.

The van struck its target. There was a violent explosion, then the thunder of an enormous blast echoing through the hillside. The bright orange flame consumed three land cruisers; they shuddered in its glow, then blew into pieces. A fighter burned like a human bonfire before he crumbled to the earth. “Truck bomb,” Khazei snapped into his radio. “Get away from there.”

Brooke looked toward the cave. The outline of a second truck appeared, its headlights dark. Roughly turning Khazei toward it, Brooke snapped, “This one has the bomb.”

Khazei's head jerked toward Nidal. “Let's go,” he shouted.

Nidal jumped into his land cruiser.

Running toward it with Anit and Khazei, Brooke said, “We need guns.”

“Take them from the back.”

Scrambling into the rear seat, Brooke grabbed an AK-47 for Anit, then took another for himself. As they checked their weapons, the land cruiser shot forward, spitting rock and dirt.

They began skidding down the hillside. Suddenly the cruiser lurched, nearly toppling as it threw Anit across Brooke's body. Whipping the steering wheel, Nidal righted the van. Brooke saw the second van reach
the dirt road, turning toward the burning wreckage. Suddenly it disappeared.

“The aqueduct,” Khazei said tightly.

Reaching the road, Nidal turned on his headlights. He accelerated, then braked abruptly, just past the boulders, veering sharply off the road. Ahead Brooke saw the cement maw of the aqueduct before its black void swallowed them.

Their headlights stabbed the darkness. They had perhaps two feet on either side; Nidal accelerated, his shoulders tense as the concrete walls sped by. Through the windshield Brooke spotted the red taillights of the van. Behind them, the headlights of the second land cruiser appeared. Anit turned to him, naked fear in her eyes. “What if they've mined the tunnel?”

“Speed up,” Khazei urged Nidal.

Nidal stomped the gas pedal, the sudden jolt sending a shot of pain up Brooke's spine. The taillights vanished. A circle of black appeared, the end of the aqueduct. Nidal raced for it.

From behind them came a shudder, then the echo of an explosion reverberating through the tunnel. Turning, Brooke saw the aqueduct collapse on the second land cruiser, sealing off the passage. Glancing in the mirror, Nidal leaned forward, desperate to reach the end. Twenty feet, then ten. As they reached the opening, Brooke heard a second explosion.