Farid barked out a quick order and the six men hustled over. They lined up from left to right, the distance from one man to the other a full arm’s length. They’d done it so many times over the last six months, they could simply eyeball the distance.

Karim surveyed his elite squad. Seven of them from left to right. The tallest was a hair over six feet, and the shortest a bit under five eight. They were all in peak physical condition. What little extra weight they may have carried on their agile frames was now gone. They were an impressive group with their broad shoulders, bulging muscles, and narrow waists. Their entire bearing had been changed. They stood straight, with shoulders back and chests out, their eyes front and center, waiting for an order. The posture alone had taken nearly a month. He’d had to transform them, slowly strip all the bad habits they’d learned fighting for al-Qaeda and the Taliban. They had been encouraged to look down on the Americans and their formality of command. The way the Americans marched around like robots. Karim saw it for what it really was; an efficiency that stripped away an individual’s identity. It was one of the many things that made them such daunting opponents, and it was the foundation of their effectiveness. When an order was given they could move with amazing speed and efficiency.

Karim looked over the men and realized for the first time just how proud he was of them. He gave the order for the men to relax and then with a thin smile on his lips he said, “My warriors, Allah has told me you are ready. There is nothing more we can do here.”

“We are leaving?” It was Ahmed, one of the Moroccans.

“Yes. We will leave within the hour.”

One by one the men looked to each other. Some smiled. Others looked nervous. Karim saw this, stepped on his own anger, and told himself it was natural. As horrible as this place had been, it had served its purpose. It had become home to them. “I know some of you are anxious. Some of you are nervous, and one or two of you are probably afraid. All of these feelings are natural. When God asked the prophet Jonah to go to Nineveh and decry the wickedness, he was afraid. So afraid, he ran in the opposite direction, where he ended up in the belly of the beast. Even one of the great prophets was afraid. It is normal to have such feelings. Even to doubt in our cause… our mission. We have each other, though. We have become family. We will keep each other strong, and we will not run. We will go willingly, and with great courage, into the belly of the beast, and we will inflict such harm and pain that the beast will no longer have the stomach to meddle in our affairs.”

A few of the men shouted and pumped their fists in the air. The more solemn ones simply nodded.

“To stay longer is to give the enemy more time to prepare.” Karim began to walk the length of the formation with his hands clasped behind his back. Now came the hard part. “I have not told you this until now because I did not want to distract you during your training.” He stopped at one end and looked back down the line. “The other two units have not been heard from in almost a month. It is feared that they have been intercepted.”

There were murmurs of shock and disappointment. “But there has been nothing in the news,” said Farid.

“That is true.” The men had access to two laptops with Internet links, and Karim encouraged them to read several U.S. newspapers every day. “I would hold out some hope if it had been reported in the papers. That would mean the CIA would have acknowledged their capture, and in turn they would have to document their treatment. The fact that there has been no word means they will drain them of everything they know.”

“Do the other units know of our plans?”

Karim looked at Fazul Alghamdi, whom he had fought alongside in Afghanistan. “Only in vague terms.”

“They know which city we will attack,” Farid said in an agitated tone.

“Yes, they do, but it is a big city. As we have discussed, there are many targets.”

Fazul looked forlorn. “They were good men.”

“Yes, they were. They were brave men, but they put too much faith in their belief that Allah wanted them to succeed.” Karim had spent a great deal of time as of late trying to sort this out. With the thoughtfulness of an imam he said, “Allah wants us to succeed, but he wants to challenge us. He wants to test us. He wants to see how committed we are to defeating our enemy.”

“We are all committed, Amir,” said Farid, speaking for all of them.

“Good. This is why I have preached preparation and vigilance. I have admonished many of you for what I feel is a lack of respect for our enemy. You are weak if you fall prey to this. You are immature and you are afraid… like a schoolboy who is jealous of a pupil who gets a better mark on an exam. The truth is that the Americans are extremely good, and if we are not careful, we will end up like the others… captured and I’m sure tortured.”

“We will not disappoint you, Amir,” said Farid.

“Good.” Karim would always worry about the men. He had poured everything he had into getting them ready for this mission, and he knew he would never be completely satisfied. That was his nature. Those concerns, though, had taken a backseat to something that was weighing very heavily on him. He knew the Americans were good, but he was not naive enough to think the other two units had been intercepted by sheer luck. More and more, Karim was convinced the leadership of al-Qaeda had been compromised.

“I have one other concern,” Karim announced in an extremely dire voice. “I am afraid that Zachariah may have been passing information along to his uncle.”

The two Moroccans, who were closest to the Egyptian, shared a nervous look.

Karim picked up on it and asked, “Am I right?”

Both men nodded.

Karim told himself that he could be angry about it later. His suspicions confirmed, he felt very vulnerable standing in the clearing. He got that feeling he’d had many times in Afghanistan. The one where he could almost sense one of the American drones circling high above. A faint buzz that foretold death from the sky. He was suddenly very glad that he had killed Zachariah and even more glad that he had made other preparations.

“Does anyone have any questions before we leave?”

“Where are we going?”

“The airstrip.” Karim looked to the north. “If we make good time we should be there by nightfall.”

“And then on to Mexico City?” Fazul asked.

“No.”

“But what of the plan?”

“We can no longer trust our own people. Somewhere along the line the Americans have penetrated our leadership. We are on our own.”

“But how will we get into America?”

“I have made other arrangements.”

“What are they?”

“I will tell you when the time is right.” The men accepted this without further question. Karim looked at Farid and said, “Set the buildings on fire. I don’t want any clues left behind in case the Americans learn of this place.”

“Yes, Amir.”

Karim scanned the blue sky above them in search of a sign that they were being watched. The mere act of doing so made all the men nervous. “I think we should leave this place as quickly as possible.”

No one argued. The men moved from one building to the next, using the oil from the lanterns to start the fires. The two laptops, extra radios, maps, and satellite phones were all thrown into the raging fire. Fourteen notebooks filled with research on individuals, buildings, entities, and organizations were all torched. Karim had made them memorize their battle plan. From this point forward nothing was to be put on paper. All communication with the al-Qaeda leadership was to cease.

With the fires raging behind them, the men moved along a narrow foot trail. Karim stood at the edge of the jungle as each man disappeared under the dense canopy. He was happy to finally leave this place, and more than a little content to be cutting all ties with his commanders. There was nothing else they could do for him. He and his men were on their own. They would face Goliath, and they would strike a mighty blow for all of Islam.