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FEAR, anticipation, boredom, dread, excitement, and now an awe-inspiring elation. As the van crested a slight hill, Karim looked out across the vast expanse of lights, bridges, and monuments and felt his heart quiver. To his left he noted the large, square, white top of the Lincoln Memorial. Almost straight ahead was the dome of the Jefferson Memorial, with the Washington Monument jutting up behind it like the tip of a great sword. Farther to the right the massive Capitol sat atop a slight hill. The sheer scope and size of the building was the perfect example of American excess. Excess that had been obtained through hubris and arrogance and colonial subjugation.
Karim had experienced many emotions on his journey, especially boredom during the months of isolation in South America. It was his middle passage toward his ultimate destiny; the sacrifice great persons must make to steel themselves for the challenge that would make or break them. The boredom was gone. Now, looking out on the lights of his enemies’ capital, he thought it a trivial price. He wondered if this was how the great warriors of Islam felt as they gazed out on the campfires of their enemy the night before a great battle. The swelling of pride in his chest, the joy, and the knowledge that he was about to strike a mortal blow for Allah was all too much.
Karim let loose an emotional sigh. Why was he so fortunate? Why was he the one that Allah had chosen to strike this mighty blow? To take the once great and feared al-Qaeda and return them all to their proper place as the most powerful and influential group in all of Islam. Karim felt it as deeply as he ever had before. He was ready to take his place alongside Islam’s most legendary generals. This would be the beginning, the first of many cities where he would wreak havoc and spread fear and terror among the weak and godless Americans.
Everything that had come before would be a tedious preamble to how he had risen from obscurity, just as Mohammad had done, to motivate millions to fight for Islam. To once and for all banish the infidels and dirty Jews from the cradle of Islam and restore the caliphate. Restore peace and justice to their lands. Not this nonsense called democracy that the Americans were so proud of. This nonsense of government by the people of a godless country filled with nothing more than possessions and desires. They had been spoiled now for several generations and they were ripe for the taking. Karim could see it all before him as if Allah had given him the map. The Americans were in their last days of their little experiment and Karim was here to help accelerate their downfall.
The honor was almost too much to take. It rested on his shoulders to set the cause back on the proper course. Islam would once again take its rightful place on the world stage and they would cleanse their lands of the infidels. Karim’s eyes slowly filled with tears, and he covered his face lest any of the others see him in such a state.
As he was doing so, he heard Hakim ask him, “Are you all right?”
Hakim handed him one of the napkins that were left over from a fast-food stop. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose, while trying to assure Hakim that everything was fine. The two had spoken very little since they had left the park in Georgia. Karim could not understand why his friend was so upset over the death of their driver. Hundreds of thousands had already died in this most recent holy war. No one man was more important than the mission. What was one more martyr?
“It is time to make the call,” Hakim said as he checked his side mirror and changed lanes.
Karim looked at the clock on the dashboard. The green numbers read 10:27. They’d been on the road for nearly seventeen hours, most of it on Interstate 95. Like so much of the rest of the last year, their journey would be marked by another leap of faith into unfamiliar territory. Karim retrieved the phone from the center console and held it in his right hand atop the steering wheel. After finding the red power button on the unfamiliar phone he went to press it and then hesi
tated. Most people looked at a mobile phone and never thought anything beyond the convenience of what it offered them. Not those who had fought against the Americans in Afghanistan and Iraq, though. They looked at the phones as a game of Russian roulette. Every time you turned one on you were tempting the hands of fate. Zawahiri and bin Laden had not used a mobile phone in years and the rest of the al-Qaeda and Taliban leadership used them only sparingly. Dozens had been killed or captured after making calls. One minute they would be standing there talking, and the next thing you knew, a missile would come streaking through the air and blow them to bits.
“Go ahead,” Hakim said as if he didn’t care. “Remember…you’re a needle in a haystack.”
They had talked about this incessantly. In the mountainous border area between Afghanistan and Pakistan there were fewer than a million people spread over thousands of square miles. Very few had mobile phones, and there was extremely limited coverage for digital and analog phones. The only type of phone that worked with any real consistency was a satellite phone and that made things even more dangerous. Satellite phones were extremely expensive and rare, and they worked by using orbiting satellites that were owned almost entirely by Western telecommunications companies, and that was only the half of it. The United States Government was rumored to have one of their billion-dollar KH-12 spy satellites in geosynchronous orbit above the region as well as a myriad of unmanned aerial vehicles and spy planes. They were all understandably gun-shy about using the devices, but here in America nearly everyone had a cell phone and the American government was not allowed to listen in on the calls without permission from the courts.
Karim closed his eyes and pressed the button. Ten seconds later the tiny screen was showing that everything was working as expected. He took a look around, and began punching in the number from memory. His hands were clammy as he held the phone to his ear and listened to the strange-sounding ring.
“Hello,” a voice answered with just a hint of an accent.
“Joe,” Karim said in a voice that cracked, “It’s Chuck. How are you?”
There was an abnormal pause and then the male voice said, “Fine, Chuck. Are you in town?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to stop by and see me?”
“Yes.”
“When will you be here?”
Karim covered the phone and asked, “How long until we are there?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Karim relayed the number and then said good-bye. “He sounded nervous,” he said to Hakim.
“Normal.” Hakim shrugged as if he couldn’t care less.
“How long are you going to stay mad at me?” Karim asked.
“I don’t know. How many more innocent people are you going to butcher?”
The question was not entirely unexpected, but it stung nonetheless. “War is not without casualties.”
“When you are involved, that’s for certain.”
“You would rather I place the outcome of this entire operation in the hands of a twenty-three-year-old boy who owes me no loyalty?”
“Back to your tribal mentality again.”
