Eddy's Current (37 page)

“Yes, brothers, the apostates will not be tolerated. Down with the Christians. Down with the enemies of Allah. The pigs will suffer until they are eradicated,” Dane shouted, feeding his fellow radicals the food they were so hungry to consume.

The group was ecstatic. They now had a proven adherent who was an American convert to their cause. Dane had proven himself to be deeply committed to the cause. River was still sick to his stomach.

18 SEPTEMBER 2025

Dane was now fully enmeshed in the group’s activities. He attended planning sessions, led terrorism indoctrination, and even taught radical extremist theology. The Saudis had welcomed him. The radical Saudis, with one exception, had embraced him. Things were going well. Still, there was Aswaheri to deal with, and he was not at peace about Dane the way his comrades were. There was something out of place and there were those few awkward moments at the beginning of it all, months ago, that nagged at him. He couldn’t think about Dane without questioning himself about how things just didn’t fit. He often greeted Dane with sneaky questions and with statements that showed his mistrust.

“I see that you are well versed in the Koran, Mr. Dane,” Aswaheri said. “Who were your comrades in the U.S.? Perhaps I know their names. It is a small world among those of us who advocate the type of actions against the criminal Christians and Jews that we do. I probably know several of your friends over there.” Questions like this elicited a logical response from al Qatari instead of Dane.

“My friend, my friend, Aswaheri,” al Qatari said. “Dane has many contacts here in Saudi Arabia. America is not a safe place; you know that. Brothers can’t associate over there. How many of our U.S. cells do you know of that have only five, three or even one member? They can’t associate with other of our brothers. You know that to be true. Why do you quiz Dane?”

Aswaheri was always disarmed by al Qatari, not so much because of his answers, but because of the respected leadership position he held in the group. Al Qatari’s answer caused Aswaheri to back off—at least for now.

River, too, had an answer that satisfied a particular query here and there, but couldn’t manage to fully stop Aswaheri’s gnawing suspicions. Aswaheri knew that he would not get satisfactory answers one way or the other each time he asked, but he believed that each question’s answers would slowly build a case against Dane, if indeed there was a case to build.

River realized that Aswaheri’s suspicion of Dane was increasing with each passing day. River decided that Aswaheri had to be brought fully on board. He could not be ignored, and he would not accept quick, vague answers forever. If the sneaky questions continued, sooner or later either River or al Qatari would slip up. River decided that he needed to be proactive. He went to Aswaheri to try to win him over.

“So, my brother, tell me of your life. Tell me of your parents. Your wife? Any children?”

River was pushing it. He really needed to learn to talk less than he did. Among the radicals, discussion of a man’s family, especially his wife and children, was off limits. Dane was raking on Aswaheri’s nerves more than ever.

“Your friend is pushy. I will have to speak to the leadership group about him,” Aswaheri said to al Qatari.

“My brother, please listen to me. You have not accepted our brother Dane, and you know it. You are asking sneaky questions of him, always. This is a demonstration of complete disrespect for a brother. If you wish for him to be a part of what we’re doing, treat him as your equal. You should stop your queries of him and observe him from a distance. Allow him to prove himself. By the way, he has already proven himself,” al Qatari reasoned.

“If only Dane could keep River’s mouth shut. It would be much easier to keep both of them out of trouble,” al Qatari whispered to himself.

“Tomorrow we will work all day to finalize our plan of attack against the Pakistani government. They must never again allow the U.S. government pigs to get away with their raids against innocent brothers and sisters. The most recent U.S. raid was the final action that we will tolerate. The pitiful and cowardly response by the Pakistanis will not be tolerated. We will respond to their cowardly act with a noble act of bravery,” al Qatari said to Dane. “We will meet at dawn, in the meeting room. This will be the most successful terror attack we have ever undertaken—and the most successful in the history of the world.”

River and al Qatari had not spoken agent–to–agent since River arrived in Medina. And River had not kept in touch with Rawls, as required. River couldn’t have known, then, that the Saudi royal family had infiltrated the group, though not at a high enough level to know the details of their terror plans. They did, however, infiltrate to the extent that they regularly recorded conversations between certain individuals. They were unable to plant bugging devices in the meeting rooms of the radical mosques. First of all, if the people found out that bugging devices had been placed in sacred places of worship, the tranquility and stability of Saudi Arabia would be shattered by upheaval. Second, the meeting rooms were scanned for bugging devices on a regular basis. A plant would be discovered.

The royal family was patient. They would wait until their infiltrators ascended to the levels of leadership within the group needed to gather important information. They had gotten a good start, but it was still only a start.

Al Qatari knew of the infiltration. He knew also, of course, that the planned attack on Pakistan had proceeded to the point that he and River would soon have to pull out. A U.S. raid on their group would confirm Aswaheri’s suspicions of Dane, and, in fact would fully expose River as the only logical person who could have led to the exposure of the group’s plans. Besides, the U.S. would act alone to obliterate the group’s headquarters, as was the U.S. policy, even in spite of the authority of the new world government. Unless al Qatari and River left Saudi Arabia, they would be killed by their own government’s bombs.

“Our plans will not be small. Our enemies are planning that we would do something small. They’re watching carefully for car bombs, suicide bombs and roadside traps,” explained Aswaheri.

Aswaheri was ruthless. He was a terror even to terrorists. When he spoke of acts of terror, he spoke of plans to wipe out entire cities. He spoke of plans to destroy villages and hospitals. And when he spoke of plans, they were actual plans that could be carried out for hallowed purposes; they were not the empty rambling of a religious nut. He took great pride in laying out well–organized, detailed and fully workable courses of action to accomplish a mission’s goals.

Aswaheri called the group to order so that he could explain the plan and deliver specific instructions to each participant. He had one piece of business to attend to first, though.

“I am going to make a final sweep for listening devices before I get into the details of the plan. The room is small, and there are only fifteen of us here, so it shouldn’t take long. No one will enter or leave this room after the sweep. I will personally conduct the sweep, so just remain seated as I move about the room. As I approach you, you will stand until I complete the sweep. Then you will be seated.”

Al Qatari and Dane sat opposite each other at the table. As Aswaheri moved past Dane, the third man from the end of the table, Dane stood to be swept for bugs. After he was swept, he sat down, and immediately felt a bare foot poking at his leg from across the table. Then he felt a slight weight hanging from the front of his robe. He ignored it. Fortunately, Dane kept River’s mouth closed.

As Aswaheri proceeded around the end of the table, and toward al Qatari, River tensed up, but managed to keep quiet and not let on that he was nervous.

Aswaheri walked slowly around the table, sweeping each terrorist with the detection monitor, encircling every square inch of each body as the terrorists stood dutifully to be checked. When his sweep was completed, it seemed impossible that he missed any hidden bugs.

“Well, brothers,” Aswaheri said, “this room is clean.”

In one continuous motion, Aswaheri lifted the suitcase off the floor and onto the table. He unlocked it using the combinations for each of the six latches — two in the front and back and one on each side — and lifted the lid, exposing the contents—a Russian suitcase bomb. A nuclear weapon. The bomb was armed, except for the safety leg that Aswaheri held securely in his left hand.

“This will be the mission that will set off the jihad we have wanted for so many centuries. This suitcase will be the beginning of the end of the infidels. Muhammad will descend as soon as we explode this bomb at the steps of the Pakistani national government headquarters. This bomb will lead us to victory.”

“Walk us through it, brother,” requested one man in the group. Another shouted, “Victory will be Allah’s. We will be victorious in His name.” Murmuring went on for several seconds until Aswaheri looked coldly and calmly at a very quiet Dane and asked, “Don’t you have any questions, Mr. Dane? Are you interested in the plan that will finally, once and for all, bring complete victory to you and your comrades here, around this table and throughout the world?”

River thought quickly. Dane began a chant for all to join him in: “Death to the infidels. Death to the Americans. Death to the Christians. Death to the Jews.” The group repeated, chanting all four lines again and again under Dane’s leadership. Each time the chant grew slightly louder than the time before. The group was wild in their celebration of their sure victory, and Dane was their cheerleader.

“Please, please settle down, at once!” shouted Aswaheri.

The room fell silent. Then Aswaheri proceeded. “Here’s the plan…”

The meeting adjourned nine hours later. The plan was set, down to the smallest detail. Nothing was left to chance. Everything would go perfectly, or so they now believed.

Dane rose from his chair before the others. If he had risen from his seat, turned to his right, rounded the table, then exited the room, he would have been okay. But he didn’t rise from his seat and turn to his right. He rose, turned to his left, and walked toward the door. He was facing Aswaheri and was walking directly toward him.

Neither Aswaheri nor any of the other terrorists in the room noticed the tiny microphone dangling from Dane’s robe, having been clipped there by al Qatari, using his toes to do it during the meeting, after Dane had been swept, but before al Qatari was. Dane continued toward the door.

Aswaheri looked Dane up and down and finally noticed the microphone. At that moment, the sweep squealed loudly as Dane walked by it. Aswaheri grabbed Dane and tried to slam him face down onto the table. Al Qatari hammered Aswaheri in the back of his head so hard with both of his fists tightly closed together that he broke his neck, killing him instantly.

Al Qatari pulled River off the table and threw him out the door. River ran for the street. Al Qatari would not be able to join him just yet. The twelve terrorists in the room realized what had happened and immediately stormed after al Qatari. There was little maneuvering space in the room for the terrorists to get to al Qatari. He grabbed the suitcase bomb, bolted out the door, threw a tear gas canister into the room, pulled his gun from his waste and fired repeatedly through the door from a side angle in the hall.

The terrorists were armed as well, but ran to the back of the room to avoid being shot and to get away from the tear gas. They waited several seconds before rushing the door. As al Qatari ran out into the street, a group of second–level terrorists, who had been guarding the building from the outside during the meeting, were waiting. He shouted to them, “The great apostates are trying to kill Aswaheri. I have to save others. Go into the meeting room and help him. Hurry, before the demons kill him.”

The small meeting room was chaotic—one dead body and twelve terrorists, some of whom were shooting at each other before they could figure out what had happened. It was all taking place in a thick cloud of powerful tear gas. And then, another twelve terrorist guards stormed the room. The scene was phrenetic.

The USFIA car was waiting a tenth of a mile east of the meeting room to take the two agents to safety. River and al Qatari ran to the car, jumped into the back and were driven to the Medina airport where they were placed on a plane bound for Frankfurt.

As the car sped away, but was still less than a half mile from the terror camp, bombs from eight U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopters obliterated the terror camp, killing all the terrorists and hundreds more who were being trained to become terrorists. America had saved the world from a major terror attack but would be in trouble for having done so.

Al Qatari had saved River’s life, and he had placed his own life in clear jeopardy doing so. River was grateful beyond words. The two spoke on the way to the airport. “You know something?” al Qatari asked, “You USFIA–trained guys need to learn the basics of our line of work before you’re placed in a situation like this,” he said, motioning his head back toward the camp.

This time River didn’t talk. He listened. Al Qatari had just saved his life. He was well worth listening to.

“If we work together again, I plan to train you much better than you’ve been trained. Still, I’m glad to know you.” The two shook hands.

The two men boarded the airplane and were off to Frankfort. The flight was long and boring. They were able to talk openly rather than incognito.

“Do you have a wife?” al Qatari asked.

“Yes, I do, and we have twins.”

“That’s great. I have no family. I have worked for so long undercover that my real identity is clouded even in my own mind. My assignments are all long–term, so whatever group I’m assigned to infiltrate becomes my family even though I despise them. I’ve been doing this for twenty–five years—twenty with the CIA, and the last five with the USFIA.”

“You are very good at what you do,” River said.

“Thank you. I’ve always believed that when you adopt an identity you had better adopt it completely. By doing that you will be far more convincing to the bad guys.”