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"I think you should go to Camp David."
"What about Operation Ark?"
Kennedy did not think an evacuation of key people was a good idea, but decided that she would keep that to herself for now. "I think the most important thing right now is to get you and your fellow leaders out of the city. Once you are up at Camp David we can discuss the rest."
* * *
Eighty-Two
POTOMAC RIVER
Saturday morning dawned with heavy gray skies and a steady rain that peppered the calm surface of the bay. The hypnotic effect of the rain falling on the water served as the perfect backdrop for their morning prayer. They'd made their way down the York River and out into the Chesapeake under the cover of darkness, and were now headed north. The thirty-seven-foot cabin cruiser owned by Mr. Hansen was more than up to the task, especially on calm seas. Its GPS navigation system helped them to maneuver through these foreign waters.
Like al-Yamani, Hasan and Khaled had also learned basic seaman-ship on the Caspian. They had been in charge of receiving and preparing the fresh martyrs who were shipped in from around the region. They would house them for a day or two, waiting for al-Yamani to return with the flat-bottom barge, and then they would have nothing to do until the next batch arrived. During those inactive times they were ordered to learn the ways of the water. Money was not an issue, so whenever the opportunity arose, they would rent a boat and practice on the calm waters of Gorgan Bay at the southeast edge of the Caspian.
Despite everything they'd learned, though, there was no way they could have memorized the craggy outline and bays and inlets of the Chesapeake. The GPS and chart that was onboard had been lifesavers, for they had never planned on navigating this body of water at all. The original plan had called for them to put in at Dahlgren on the Potomac River forty miles due south of Washington. The route following the river was a bit longer, but not significant compared to the 200 miles they now had to travel in the rain and with poor visibility.
Al-Yamani was on his knees, but he was not praying. He was in the head, throwing up yet again and it was not a pretty sight. He could no longer keep dow
n even a morsel of food. His thirst was insatiable, but with every cup of water came more vomiting, and the fluid had gone from a pinkish tinge to dark crimson. He placed his hand on the edge of the tiny toilet and locked his elbows as he braced himself for another stomach-tearing hurl.
The wave of nausea passed, and al-Yamani was left hovering over the toilet, a thick dribble of blood and spit hanging from his mouth. His entire body was covered in sweat and he was shaking. This would be his last day on earth, whether they succeeded or not, but he did not believe they would fail. Not after yesterday. Allah was guiding them, showing them a safe passage to their destiny.
They were all going to die. He had been forced to lie to the scientist about that, but he felt no shame in doing so. Certain people were not strong enough to handle the truth. The scientist had spent most of the trip sitting in the bed up under the bow of the ship, as far away from the bomb as possible. Zubair had been adamant that the bomb be lashed to the fiberglass swim platform at the aft of the vessel. Even though they'd gone to great lengths to shield it, the weapon was still giving off significant radiation. Because of that it had to be placed downwind and as far away from them as possible.
The scientist had asked what the plan was once they got to Washington. Al-Yamani told him they would set the timer on the bomb, dock the boat, and then leave.How would they get away? the Pakistani wanted to know. Al-Yamani told him someone would be waiting for them. It was another lie, but one that the Pakistani would never know, because he would be dead before they reached the city.
Khaled came down the stairs into the small cabin and stood over al-Yamani. "We are nearing the river."
Al-Yamani barely had the strength to stand. He held up his arm so Khaled could help him to his feet. "Is it still raining?"
"Yes."
Even with the help of Khaled it was a struggle to stand. Al-Yamani began working his way up the stairs with Khaled both pushing and holding him from behind. When they reached the helm he sat down on the bench seat next to Hasan who was driving.
Al-Yamani peered through the rain-spattered windshield and waited for the wiper blade to come around and give him a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Any sign of trouble?"
"No, but we aren't quite there yet."
"Where is the river?"
"According to the GPS it's up there on the left about another mile."
Al-Yamani couldn't see anything but he trusted his fellow warrior.
"If you see any sign of trouble we will continue past the mouth and then decide whether we should proceed to Baltimore or try again."
"I know. Maybe we should have the scientist arm the weapon."
Al-Yamani had thought of this, but was reluctant. He did not know if the bad weather would end up forcing a postponement of the dedication of the memorial or not, and until he knew for sure he wanted to wait. "Have you learned anything of the weather?"
Hasan kept his eyes on the water, but pointed to the radio controls. "They don't know if it is going to clear or not. They are giving it a fifty percent chance by this afternoon."
Less than a minute later they came up on the channel marker to enter the Potomac. The going had been slower than anticipated during the night, and Hasan had had to compensate by running at a faster speed while they were out in the bay. He pulled back on the throttles taking the boat down from its cruising speed of thirty mph to around five mph. There wasn't a boat in sight.
Both men smiled. "How long until we lay our eyes on the city?" asked al-Yamani.
"We will be there by noon. A full hour before the ceremony is to commence."
