The two men embraced, kissing each other once on each cheek. The small man then embraced Hakim, and then the three of them went inside.

“Here, this way,” the small man said as he held open a door that revealed a staircase.

They went down the creaking wood stairs to the basement and entered a big room with a low ceiling and exposed pipes. There were shelves on all the walls, and off to the left was an old delivery elevator that came up through the sidewalk. Hakim glanced at it, because a few weeks earlier he had used the elevator to unload a very important shipment. There were other storage rooms and two offices located down a hallway at the back of the space.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Karim asked the small man.

Hakim thought it a stupid question, since the man always looked nervous about something.

“There has been a development,” the man they called Joe said anxiously.

“What kind of development?” Karim asked, suddenly concerned.

The man’s name was Aabad bin Baaz. He was a fellow Saudi who had met Karim when they were undergraduates at King Faisal University and then had followed him to the Islamic University of Medina. Hakim not so affectionately referred to the man as the ferret, due to the fact that he looked like one. He was short, only five feet six, and he had a large hook nose and floppy ears that he tried to hide by growing out his hair.

Aabad timidly shuffled from one foot to the other and then pointed back toward the hall that led to the storage rooms and offices. Looking at Hakim, he said, “I had the camera installed, as you suggested.”

Hakim could feel Karim’s eyes on him, so he turned and quickly said, “After we received the shipment we put a lock on the door and I told him” – he pointed down the hall – “to install a small surveillance camera so we could keep an eye on things.”

Karim turned back to Aabad. “Continue.”

“I reviewed the tapes every few days,” he said while rubbing his hands together. “We have a man who helps out around here. I saw him on the tape several times and didn’t think much of it, and then earlier tonight… during evening prayer, I noticed he had slipped out, so I grabbed a few men and we went downstairs.”

“The same stairs we just came down?” Karim asked.

“Yes, and we found him back in the hallway.”

Karim and Hakim looked at each other and then Karim said, “He would have heard you coming.”

“I think so,” Aabad said nervously.

“What was he doing?”

“We found him in one of the other storage rooms, moving supplies around. While the other men were talking to him… asking him why he was not at evening prayer… I snuck into the office and reviewed the security tape.”

“And?” Hakim asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.

“He was doing something with the door, so I grabbed my gun and we confronted him. We tied him up and emptied his pockets.”

“Did you find anything?”

“This.” Aabad held out what looked like a miniaturized version of a dental tool and three white pads in a clear Ziploc bag.

Hakim felt his heart sink. “That is a lock pick, and those little pads,” he said as he closed his eyes and his voice trailed off, “are used to test for chemicals…”

“What kind of chemicals?” Aabad asked.

“The kind associated with explosives.” Hakim took a step away and looked back at the stairs, half expecting federal agents to come barreling down with guns drawn. In a hushed voice he asked, “Have you questioned him?”

“I haven’t had time.”

Hakim shot Karim an I told you so look. He had warned him that Aabad wasn’t up to the task. Karim’s response was that the man was simply accident-prone. Hakim had replied that he was accident-prone because he was stupid. He reached out, grabbed Karim by the arm, and said, “We need to get out of here.”

Karim pulled his arm free. “In a minute.” Addressing Aabad, he asked, “Has he said anything?”

“Only that we are overreacting. He says it is his job to keep an eye on things.”

“I don’t like this,” Hakim said.

“I don’t either, but before I throw away this opportunity, I want to make sure. Have you checked for listening devices?”

Before Aabad could answer, Hakim said, “He wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t even trust myself. It is impossible to keep up with their technology.”

Karim thought about that for a second and said, “I want to see him.”

“No,” Hakim said firmly. “He cannot see you. We need to leave.” Pointing at Aabad, he said, “He should have given us the signal. We should have never come here.”

“I am in charge here,” Karim said firmly. “I will not so easily settle for our meager backup plan.”

Hakim let out a sigh of frustration, knowing there would be no changing Karim’s mind. Turning to Aabad, he asked, “Is anyone upstairs keeping an eye out?”

“Yes,” Aabad answered nervously.

Hakim took a step toward the stairs and motioned for Karim to follow him. When the two were alone, Hakim looked at his old friend and said, “You are blind when it comes to him. You killed a man this morning who has three times the brains of that imbecile, a man who had done nothing to endanger your plan. And now you are going to tolerate him yet again.”

It was far more complicated than Hakim was making it, but Karim did not have the time to debate the issue right now. “We will talk later. Go… take the men to the place you have prepared, and I will be in touch.”

“And if I don’t hear from you?”

“If you don’t hear from me by seven a.m., proceed immediately to the secondary target.”

Hakim did not move, so Karim grabbed him by the shoulder and sent him on his way. As soon as he was gone, he motioned for Aabad to lead him down the hallway. He sent Aabad in first and told him to send the other men upstairs to keep a lookout. He then entered the storage room by himself. He made no effort to conceal his face.

He looked down at the black man sitting on the floor. His ankles, knees, and wrists were duct-taped. Karim studied him for a long moment. He noted the man’s fit appearance and stared into his eyes for a long time. He found them to be far too calm, considering the situation. Withdrawing a tactical knife from the back of his waistband, he asked, “What is your name?”

“Mohammad,” the man said with a set jaw and a cautious look, like he was assessing the situation.

“Of course it is,” Karim smiled as he extended the blade. He stepped forward and watched the man flinch, but noted that he did not scream. Karim reversed the grip on his knife, and with one hand, grabbed the neck of the shirt and then, taking the knife, he sliced it open along the shoulder, the cotton fabric giving way easily.

“What are you doing?” the man half shouted.

“When I fought in Afghanistan, I killed my fair share of Americans.”

“Good for you,” the man said. “It is an unjust war.”

“Yes, it is.” Karim nodded. “We would often strip their bodies and allow the local villagers to defile them.”

The man named Mohammad did not answer him this time.

“Every single one of them had a tattoo.” Karim saw fear in the man’s eyes. Karim cut away more of the man’s shirt. There was nothing on the right bicep, but there was some ink on the left. Karim moved the man roughly and smiled as he looked down at the head of an eagle with the words Screaming Eagle underneath.

“Ah… I see you were in the army.”

“A lot of people are in the army.”

“Do a lot of people serve in elite units like the 101st Airborne Division?” Karim waited for an answer but never got one. “What is your name?”

“I told you… Mohammad.”

“No” – he held the knife in front of the man’s face – “I mean your real name. The one you had while you were in the army.”