Saud Wadi made his presentation, and pictures of his brother were handed out. He discussed what he knew of the plot and answered questions from the team. The ladies were then introduced to Yusuf al-Fihri, who would be taking them inside. He made sure the women were familiar with how to perform Salaat, the Islamic ritual prayer, and gave them tips on how to behave and where to go once they were inside the mosque.

The female operators then asked al-Fihri questions about the layout of the mosque, where certain rooms could be found, how many people would be there, and so forth. Once they were satisfied that they had obtained all of the information they could from him, Rita Marx thanked al-Fihri and had him taken to another room to wait. It was time to talk about the assault itself.

Al-Fihri had insisted that he could take in only three of the women. Casey didn’t like odd numbers and under pressure, al-Fihri had agreed to four. This way the women could break off into two, two-member fire teams. Deciding which of the women would go was another matter.

All of them wanted in and all of them were qualified for the assignment. They each understood Muslim culture, could converse in a handful of languages spoken throughout the Islamic world, and were incredibly well trained in close-quarters battle. In the end, the decision came down to appearance. Megan Rhodes was too tall and too fair. She would be the odd woman out.

That meant that Gretchen Casey, Julie Ericsson, Nikki Rodriguez, and Alex Cooper would be the ones to go in.

The tac team commanders discussed strategy with their American counterparts and a plan was settled upon. It was simple, but simple plans were often the best, especially when violently executed. The only way success could be better assured was to have the plan well rehearsed. With the clock ticking down to morning prayers, rehearsals were not something they had time to carry out.

Detective Marx left the conference room and came back with four shopping bags containing the Islamic garb the women would be wearing.

From an ops standpoint, Casey and her team loved burqas. They allowed them to mix in the Muslim community without drawing undue attention to themselves and a lot of gear could be secreted beneath. The fact that they were employing one of the most preeminent symbols of Islamic oppression against women to get up close and stick it to the bad guys was an added piece of sweet irony.

Opening their Storm cases, the team selected the weapons and equipment they were going to use. One of the items was a device Harvath had heard about, but had yet to deploy with-the new semiautomatic, multishot Taser X3. The new ECD, or Electronic Control Device, provided the opportunity to deploy a second and third cartridge immediately and could even incapacitate three subjects simultaneously.

It was a sexy-looking piece of gear with a cool space-age design. It had dual laser sights, a thirty-five-foot range, and unlike the bright yellow device Taser was so well known for, this was as black as night. It also matched their burqas, an observation Harvath decided to keep to himself.

Casey and Rodriguez walked back into the garage and selected several pieces of equipment from the tac team table and then Marx got them outfitted with radios. Before anyone knew it, it was time to launch.

They gave their weapons and radios one last check before climbing into Yusuf al-Fihri’s car.

As they pulled out of the garage and the vehicle disappeared down the street, Harvath had a bad feeling. But like his burqa observation, he kept it to himself.

When he climbed into one of the backup vans and took his place alongside Rhodes, he could tell by the look on her face that she was feeling exactly the same thing.

CHAPTER 46

Gretchen Casey sat in front and studied Yusuf al-Fihri as they drove toward the mosque. She could tell he was nervous. “Are you a smoker, Mr. al-Fihri?” she asked from beneath her burqa.

“Yes, miss,” he replied.

“Why don’t you have a cigarette? It won’t bother us.”

“I don’t like to smoke before prayers.”

“It will help calm your nerves. I think it’s a good idea.”

“Yes, miss,” said al-Fihri, who then fished out his cigarettes and lit one. He took a deep pull of smoke into his lungs and the soothing effect the nicotine had on him was instantly apparent.

“You’re doing the right thing, Mr. al-Fihri. Remember that.”

“I know, miss.”

They found a parking space and then, as instructed, walked behind al-Fihri the rest of the way to the mosque. Casey reminded him to take his time. They wanted to get there as late as possible. They had no desire to stand around socializing before prayers.

Approaching the front doors, al-Fihri nodded and said hello to several men he knew, but kept moving. He accompanied the women to a side entrance where he spoke a few words to a burqa-clad woman who appeared to be a greeter of some sort. Per the plan, he then berated Casey for making him late, shoved her inside along with the other women, and hurried back to the main entrance, which was for men only.

The greeter further chastised the women, and after they had removed their shoes, rushed them up a narrow set of stairs.

On the second floor, she shooed them into a small bathroom and waited outside while they performed their ritual purification. As they conducted their faux ablutions, Casey radioed a quick update over the bone mic in her left ear.

When they reemerged, the doorkeeper hurried them into the packed women’s prayer room and pointed to where she wanted them to stand in the back row. She then took up a spot right between them and the door.

The team was professional and maintained radio silence. Casey didn’t need to hear anything; she knew exactly what they all were thinking. The doorkeeper had just gone from being a pain in the ass to an actual impediment that would have to be dealt with.

With their heads down, feet shoulder-width apart and their hands at their sides as they faced in the direction of Mecca, the ladies pretended to quietly utter their intentions to perform Salaat, the Islamic ritual prayer. Over her earpiece, Casey could hear Nikki Rodriguez reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Right away, Cooper and Ericsson joined her. Casey did too.

A voice crackled over the loudspeakers at the front of the room in Arabic and the Salaat began.

The Athena Team followed along, voicing the appropriate phrases and adopting the proper postures, until Casey signaled over the radio that she was going to take out the doorkeeper.

Rising from the floor, Casey wrapped her midsection and bent over as if she was in pain. She sat in that position until she could tell that she had gotten the doorkeeper’s attention. Standing up slowly, she then moved toward the exit.

The doorkeeper met her halfway and tried to stop her from leaving.

“I’m going to be sick,” she mumbled in Arabic and then added in heavily accented English, “Need toilet. Sick. Sick.”

The woman stepped out of her way, but followed Casey toward the women’s bathroom.

Approaching the door, she pretended to falter and the woman rushed forward to grab her arm.

She helped steady Casey and steer her into the ladies’ room. As she did, she took the opportunity once more to chastise her. “Shame on you,” she hissed. “You should know better than to come to mosque when you are sick.”

“I’m not sick, darling,” said Casey in her best Texas drawl as the door shut behind them and she reached over to lock it. “But I am getting pretty tired of what a bitch you’re being.”

“I, I, I,” the woman stammered, suddenly aware that something very bad was happening.

“Yup. You, you, you,” replied the Athena Team leader as she pulled her Taser from beneath her burqa and stun-drove it into the woman’s chest.