One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [75]
Sayyidd couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth. He thought Bakr was acting like an old woman, afraid of his own shadow, but didn’t want to cause him to question the mission. He didn’t believe he had the strength or courage to succeed by himself. Years ago, before giving himself to the jihad, he might have been up to the task, but his experiences in Iraq had paradoxically given him an Achilles’ heel—his complete trust in Allah had left him with no faith in himself. He longed to be like men such as Bakr, but in his heart knew he wasn’t. He held a secret shame that tore at the fabric of his being, an individual weakness that corroded the essence of his capability: He didn’t believe he had the courage to be a shahid.
A suicide bomber’s detonator wasn’t pressed by Allah. It was pressed by the man wearing the bomb. A man who executed Allah’s will by his own action. A man like Bakr. Deep inside, Sayyidd questioned whether he had that same strength, afraid of the answer he would find when put to the test. He told Bakr a small white lie to protect the larger one festering in his soul.
“Of course I didn’t keep the addresses with the passwords. I’m not that stupid. They’re just e-mail addresses. They won’t mean anything to anyone at Miguel’s estate. Even if someone goes to them, they’ll get nothing.”
Bakr appeared to be mollified and let it go.
“We need to figure out how we’re going to get to the temple and package the weapon. From Eduardo’s description, it sounded like anthrax or ricin, only it acts instantly. Judging by the way Eduardo described the victim’s distress, I’m almost positive it must be drawn into the respiratory tract and doesn’t act on contact with the skin. Since it’s not made by modern man, it should have particles large enough to be filtered by the 3M masks we brought.”
Sayyidd had some training on WMD, but very little. Bakr had specialized in them at training camps in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon, and thus Sayyidd deferred to him.
“If you say so.”
Bakr smiled at Sayyidd’s trusting ways. “I said I believe it must get into the respiratory tract, but I’m not sure. It could just as easily be some sort of nerve toxin that kills on contact. Are you willing to risk that?”
“If it’s Allah’s will that we die, then we die. I don’t believe He would get us this far only to kill us deep in the jungle. I’m willing to risk it. Are you having second thoughts?”
Bakr internally cringed. Sayyidd’s blind faith left him wondering how Sayyidd had lived for three days in Iraq, much less three years.
“No. This path isn’t any more dangerous than what I’ve done in the past. I believe I’m correct. We should be protected.”
Sayyidd pulled out the GPS.
“It looks like the temple’s only twenty kilometers from here. We should be able to rent a four-wheel drive and get within ten kilometers before traveling on foot. If all goes well, we should have the weapon within a day. The only thing we’re missing is food for the trip.”
“We need more than simply food,” Bakr said. “We need to purchase some equipment that will allow me to decontaminate whatever we find. Start thinking about what we’re trying to do. We aren’t going out to pick flowers. You don’t follow my instructions exactly, we’ll both be killed.”
46
I woke early the next morning, while it was still dark. I was disoriented for a minute before remembering where I was. I snapped completely awake. I hadn’t thought I was in my own bed, at my old house. I hadn’t thought my family was still alive. I had no split second of happiness. I also had no gut-wrenching letdown. I’ve lost my happiness. I wasn’t sure what to make of the trade-off. I didn’t want to lose Heather, and that split second was all I had left.
I lay in bed thinking about the shift that had just occurred. Before I could get too melancholy, the last twenty-four hours of my life came back with a vengeance. I thought about the absolute insanity of what I had