One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [113]
Lucas spent the next thirty minutes answering a barrage of queries on everything from the title trace of the cars they would drive to the response time of EMS vehicles at an automobile accident. Holding true to the ethos of the special operations units they had come from, Lucas let the planning evolve from the bottom up. He gave out the guidance and let them sort through the gritty details.
Forty-five minutes later, they had the skeleton of an operational plan, with various straw man scenarios rehearsed on whiteboards and individual assignments dictated. They could now execute a multitude of plans on a moment’s notice, with only the actual location of the operation unknown.
SAYYIDD WATCHED BAKR PACE BACK AND FORTH in their small hotel room, clearly impatient that a message hadn’t arrived. Sayyidd had checked the account every hour on the hour, but they’d received nothing. Bakr stopped pacing and walked to the door.
“I’m going out. I need to get some air. This is driving me crazy.”
“Allah has shown us the way throughout this journey. He’ll continue to do so. There’s no reason to worry or get angry. He’ll speak again when He’s ready.”
When Bakr didn’t respond, Sayyidd thought maybe he was getting through to him. He had convinced Bakr to choose this path, and now wondered if Bakr himself had the courage to believe in their destiny. Maybe he was looking for a reason to fail. Sayyidd had seen it before. Otherwise brave, righteous men cracking under the pressure placed upon them by the word of God. Not wanting to fail, but unable to simply leave, they ended up doing foolish things to ensure their place in heaven. He needed to prevent that with Bakr. He knew his limitations. Sayyidd had proven time and time again that he could accomplish missions against all odds, but always as a member of a team. Never as a leader. Or, in this case, on his own. Without Bakr, he knew he would fail.
He booted up the M4, praying that Walid had answered. He checked the next Yahoo! address and immediately deflated. It was empty. Behind him, he heard Bakr say, “Still nothing?”
Before Bakr could get angry again, Sayyidd said, “Let me check the other addresses. Maybe it went to the wrong one.”
Sayyidd went to the next address on the list, watching anxiously as the new Web page loaded. There were two messages, one spam and the other from The Sheik. A shiver ran through him. Finally, an answer. He opened the message. It was short, and to the point.
Praise Allah, my pilgrims have made it to the land of Walid. I have passed your message, and Walid has replied that he gave you instructions, which you did not follow. He will contact you again, but requests that you send the e-mail address you wish to use to ensure there are no more mistakes. May Allah smile on your mission. All are aware of your journey, and all praise your quest. Wait for his contact, then smite the infidels with his help.
Sayyidd breathed a sigh of relief. It had all been a simple mistake. He felt a huge weight leave his shoulders. Everything was going to be okay. He turned away from the computer, smiling, only to see Bakr, his face drained of blood, staring at the screen as if he had seen his own death. Sayyidd had had enough.
“What is it now, you old woman? Can’t you be happy about anything? Thirty minutes ago you were whining like a dog about not getting a message, now you’re mad about getting one.”
Bakr sat in silence. He finally said, “I’m taking the weapon in the morning. We’ve been discovered.”
Sayyidd was stunned. “Taking the weapon? Have you lost your mind?”
“Walid sent us a message, but we didn’t get it. Now we get the next message on the next e-mail address. Why? Why didn’t The Sheik send the message in the order he dictated us to use? It’s because there was a message, and he thought we had received it, thus that e-mail address was no longer usable. We didn’t get it because someone else retrieved it. Someone has that e-mail address, and might have the others. I have no idea of the technology the Great Satan employs, but it’s not