Hassan was still coming to terms with the fact that he had successfully made contact. Sure, he had always been confident that the plan would work, but to actually be in as-Sirat's headquarters, only a few feet away from Omar Bashir, gave him an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. He shifted around on his straw mattress, wrapped the coarse blanket more tightly around his body, listened to the snoring of the men he shared the room with and tried to give his mind time to catch up with the events of the previous days.
It was obvious that Omar Bashir was delighted to see him. He embraced Hassan repeatedly and insisted that they share the evening meal. Then the as-Sirat leader had personally given him a tour of the “bunker,” which was his name for the cave complex the group called home. Omar Bashir introduced Hassan to many of the as-Sirat members currently living in Andan, including Khalid el-Jeffe and his other top lieutenants. The entire time, the terrorist leader kept saying how happy he was that Hassan made it to Pakistan, lauding him for the Washington attack and predicting that they would achieve “big things together.” He also indicated twice that his group was planning a major attack on the United States in the near future without providing details.
After giving him some time to settle in, the as-Sirat leader invited Hassan back to his quarters so the two of them could talk. Omar Bashir turned out to be an attentive and pleasant host. A couple of times Hassan felt as though he must be dreaming. It was simply too surreal to be sitting in a cave next to the world's most wanted man, sipping on tea and chatting about a variety of subjects.
Hassan told him all about the bombing and his escape and the as-Sirat leader often interrupted him with questions to get additional details, such as whether the reports were true that Hassan had originally targeted the Pentagon Metro Station.
“That was the plan but the power outage made me quickly change objectives,” Hassan explained, rehashing his cover story again. “So I got off the train and selected the bus as a new target. Sadly, Washington's poor infrastructure prevented me from doing more damage.”
He shrugged but the as-Sirat leader assured Hassan that he had done well.
But Omar Bashir didn't just want to talk about the attack and the escape. He seemed just as interested in life in the United States and what caused Hassan to want to join his group. The as-Sirat leader even managed to completely surprise his guest with a question Hassan never expected to hear in this setting.
“I heard you were a very good football player and I want to ask your opinion of something. Can you believe Madrid paid all of this money for a defender? I admit Banjano is a great talent, but 80 million euros?”
The as-Sirat leader laughed when he added: “They are paying more for this young Brazilian than the Americans are offering for you and me together. Of course, he probably plays better.”
“I'm surprised we are talking about soccer … I mean football,” Hassan replied. “Everybody else has been asking only about the attack. For the record, I think Banjano is worth it if they win the Champions League.”
“Don't be surprised,” Omar Bashir said. “We all love football but have no opportunities to play. So wait until I tell everybody that you were one of your country's best. They will have many questions for you.
“Here, we all know what it feels like to kill infidels,” the as-Sirat leader added, almost as an afterthought, “but we can only dream of playing football in front of thousands of fans.”
They continued discussing a series of soccer trades and the start of the European leagues for a little while before Omar Bashir returned to business, sharing with Hassan his vision of finding more young men like him in America.
“Imagine how effective we could be if there were only a few more like you,” he said. “And I think you can help us find and convince other young men to follow your example. You have proven that it is possible to hit the United States from the inside and to get away. Now we just have to let the world know about it. Tomorrow, we will leak to the media a rumor that you made it to Pakistan. Then, we will follow it up with a joint video message that will embarrass America and shake the world. Now go get some rest and think about what you want to say to the infidels.”
Omar Bashir embraced his guest again.
“Trust me, you making it to here will change everything,” he said.
Hassan smiled into the darkness of the room when he recalled those words from the as-Sirat leader.
“I hope you're right,” he thought.
Hassan then willed his mind to tackle the task at hand. Though his main objective of locating the as-Sirat headquarters had been completed, the loss of the transmitters meant that there was more work to be done. He had to figure out a way to make contact and he had to do so quickly and without alerting the people in Andan.
During the tour of the “bunker,” Omar Bashir had told him that, as a security measure, there were no phones in the entire town. The as-Sirat leader did not mention the two satellite phones that he and el-Jeffe kept under lock and key for extreme emergencies. The numbers were only known to a handful of people, including a mole in Pakistan's defense department and Shareef Wahed in the United States.
So Hassan knew that he wouldn't be able to use a phone to get the word out. He would have to think of some other way to make contact.
***
Before calling it a night, Art Kempner e-mailed his former intern again.
“Meghan, can you please get me in touch with Holly Gorsula? I'm working on
a story and I have to talk to her about it.”
Art made a list of the things he wanted to get done the next day. First of all, he planned on speaking to some of the spouses of the victims. Before hearing from them directly, he wanted to find a psychologist to discuss whether people could imagine that a final farewell was especially heartfelt just because they wished it had been.
He felt that the key to whatever it was that caused his alarm bells to ring had something to do with the bus, so he wanted to find out as much as possible about it and its passengers. Art made a note to call the Pentagon in the morning to see if he could talk to the soldiers in the Humvee. They were closest to the bus, so maybe they had noticed something out of the ordinary.
Another item on the list was to talk to Washington Metro to figure out if there was a way that the terrorist could have targeted the bus specifically. He wanted to get a time line of the events that led to the shuttle buses being used.
Art recalled that he had read an Associated Press story in which Stacey Harper had been identified as the last person to have seen Hassan al-Zaid before the bombing. He dug up the story and was pleased to see that there was a line in there about how she had chased the bus unsuccessfully and felt blessed because she had been close to getting on it. Art wanted to talk to her specifically about that.
The last thing he did before turning in was to send out an e-mail to all of the people he knew who used Metro buses in the DC area. He was a little bit nervous about involving so many people because he didn't want anybody to suspect what he was working on, but to have any statistical relevancy, he needed a lot of data. Art agonized over the text of the e-mail for a few minutes before settling on a version that he felt was not an outright lie but obscured what he really wanted to get out of the survey.
“I'm doing research on a story on transportation patterns for different demographic groups. Can you please e-mail me tomorrow and the next day and give me an estimate of
the share of people under the age of 30 who use the buses you ride. Also, please give me a rough estimate of the percentage of white males, African American woman and immigrants on your buses. This doesn't have to be a scientific poll, so you don't need to talk to people and ask them their age or anything, I'm really just looking for some rough figures. Thanks, Art.”
When he hit the “send” button, the Pulitzer Prize winner felt the familiar sensation of nervous excitement that he experienced whenever he thought he was on to a big story.
“I guess I'm gonna fi
nd out if I still have my instinct or if I have turned into a conspiracy theorist myself,” Art thought with a smile on the way to get his water bottle from the fridge.
***
When he woke up, Hassan sought out Nasir and asked whether he could walk around town for a little bit.
“Sure, it's no problem. It's not like we are hiding in the tunnels all day. We just don't all go out at once or carry weapons around. Even then it probably wouldn't be too much of a problem since everybody in Waziristan is armed,” Nasir said. “The beauty of the town is that it provides us with perfect cover and we can do normal things. There are even some places nearby where we can train and that are protected from sight. You'll see them soon enough.”
Hassan followed Nasir to the door that led to the storage room and showed him how to open the secret door.
“Don't ever bolt it during the day time unless you want to annoy the others,” he said. “If you ever come here and you can't open the door, push this button here and it will set off a bell in the cave and somebody will come for you.”
Before he allowed Hassan to walk around Andan, Nasir made him open the door a couple of times.
“Why don't you come with and show me around?” Hassan asked.
“Sure, why not,” Nasir said, and the two made their way outside.
It was a gorgeous day. The air was clear and the sun mixed with the altitude and a breeze made for a perfect temperature.
“It's so beautiful here,” Hassan said as they walked among the buildings. He pointed to the mountains that rose in a steep angle on both sides of the town. “Can we climb these mountains?”
“I wouldn't do it without equipment,” Nasir said. “I don't think I have ever heard of anybody going up there. We're not mountain goats and even they would have a tough time with these cliffs. If you want to climb rocks, we can find another place for you. I think Omar would not be happy if we found that you had fallen.”
The two kept on going and Nasir tried to teach Hassan as much as possible about Andan. He showed him other buildings from which he could gain entrance into the caves and where the doors were hidden.
Nasir then led Hassan to a food storage room that was located next to a well.
“We have our own storage room in the bunker, but there is always some food here to replenish our own supplies,” Nasir said. “With 40 men in the hideout and our stocks at half capacity, we could remain here for a month. Toward the back, on the other side of the mountain, we have air filters. The only real problem would be the diesel for the generators.”
“So are you worried about being attacked?” Hassan asked.
“Of course we have to be vigilant,” Nasir responded, “But I think most of us aren't too worried. The main threat is the Americans and the new Pakistani president has forbidden them to strike here without his approval. We have nothing to fear from the Pakistani military. So you need not be worried.”
“I'm not,” Hassan said. “After all, you've been here for a long time already without anything happening.”
“Even if there was some sort of attack, there are many of us and we are all experienced fighters and well-armed. It would take a large force to defeat us here,” Nasir added. “As you can see, the town is only accessible from two sides. You have the road in the front and then a trail in the back and we have sentries overlooking them both. In a few weeks, once we have trained you, you'll become part of the rotation and do guard duty like everybody else. Unless Omar thinks otherwise, of course.”
“I don't want special treatment,” Hassan said. “I just want to be one of the brothers.”
“Don't worry, we'll all like you. Ready to go back?”
Hassan nodded and they headed back for the bunker. As he had done all morning, he tried to take in every little detail, knowing that it might be useful information down the road.
Monday, 8:15 am ET
The president's glum mood had carried over into the morning. He brooded over breakfast and the first lady knew her husband well enough to keep conversation to a minimum. Jack Sweeney was a news junkie and he began each morning by watching cable news, always rotating between CNN, Fox and MSNBC so he could not be accused of favoritism, and scanning several of the major newspapers.
He was just reading an article on the Sunday “attack” on him from Congressmen Nelson and Hearst, which brightened his mood slightly, when he heard the CNN anchor announce that regular programming would be interrupted for a breaking news update.
“CNN has just learned that al-Jazeera is reporting that Hassan al-Zaid, the man who has claimed responsibility for last week's terrorist attack, is in Pakistan,” the anchor said. “Again, Hassan al-Zaid is believed to be in Pakistan, according to an al-Jazeera report.”
On a normal day, Sweeney might have smiled at the fact that one network was announcing “breaking news” only to then parrot what another network was reporting. But it was not a normal day, and instead the news provided him with a valve to release some of the pressure that had been building up since he began fearing that Pathfinder had failed. The president walked into an adjacent room, picked up a phone and demanded, with barely concealed anger, to speak to the Director of National Intelligence. McClintock was on the line within seconds.
“What the hell, Bob?” Sweeney fumed, finally being able to blow off some steam. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn't leak the Pakistan stuff for another day or so since we're already dominating the news cycle with the Hearst-Nelson thing. How can we salvage this mission if we're not on the same page?”
To Sweeney's surprise, McClintock's voice was cheerful without a hint of contrition.
“Mr. President, it wasn't our leak. Hassan did it! He made contact!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that we didn't leak it. Somebody beat us to the punch,” the DNI said giddily. “And there is only one possible source this could come from and that's as-Sirat. They are the only ones apart from us who know that Hassan is in Pakistan.”
“Couldn't it be somebody who saw him in Islamabad?” Sweeney asked.
“No, anybody who saw him there would not call al-Jazeera, they'd call us and try to get that $25 million that we promised anybody who could give us clues about Hassan's whereabouts,” the DNI said. “Also, al-Jazeera would not run with the information unless it came from one of their reliable as-Sirat sources. Hassan did it, sir. As-Sirat thinks this is a major victory for them and they want to trumpet it to the world and make us look like idiots. He did it! We did it!”
“Are you sure, Bob?”
“Mr. President, look, there are no certainties in this line of work, but this is the only explanation that makes any kind of sense. I'm positive that Hassan is now with as-Sirat.”
Sweeney's mood had brightened significantly but he was not ready yet to be as excited as the DNI.
“Well, there is still the matter of us not knowing where Hassan is,” he said.
“True,” McClintock conceded. “But our men followed him to a town that is not far from the border. It gives us a target to focus on. We will cover the entire area with satellites and drones. It's a big target, but at least it's a target.
“And, Mr. President,” he added. “Don't count out Hassan. I have spoken to him many times and monitored him during the training for the mission. This kid is really smart and, if there is a way to make contact from wherever he is, he'll find it.”
***
Seeing the al-Jazeera report made McClintock's heart leap and gave him a much needed boost. Prior to the news out of Pakistan, he had been just as worried as the president about the status of Pathfinder but he was determined not to show it. The DNI didn't want team members to feel like they had failed and lose confidence in their abilities. He needed them to be sharp and to believe in the mission.
While President Sweeney was understandably concerned about the fallout that would follow a failure of Pathfinder, the DNI was primarily worried about Hassan. McClintock had spent his entire adult
life in the service of his country, and at an age when others started their families, he was spying on the Soviet Union. He never contemplated marriage. There was no way he would want to put anybody he loved through the agony of worrying about his life every day. But, if he had a family, he would want a son just like Hassan.
Over the past four years that McClintock had overlooked Pathfinder, he developed something akin to paternal feelings for him. They spoke frequently. At first, McClintock wanted to find out if the kid was up to the task. Then, he wanted to pass on his own knowledge of being undercover in enemy territory.
Whenever they spoke, they always discussed the mission, but their conversations increasingly covered other areas. They talked about UCLA, politics and sports. In addition, Hassan, who had to sever the ties to his own parents for the sake of the mission, often turned to the DNI for advice and help in situations in which he normally would have asked his dad.
McClintock could not have been more proud of his charge and the way he had grown into the job. Hassan was bright, brave and ambitious. He was willing to sacrifice everything for his country, had a good sense of humor and did what he was told without ever complaining. In short, he was everything McClintock would have wanted in a son.
When the team lost Hassan in Zhob, the DNI was worried about Pathfinder, but he was devastated when he thought about Hassan being on his own among men who would take delight in killing him if they found out who he really was. Worst of all, there was nothing that McClintock could do to help.
The previous night, he had dreamed that Hassan had been beheaded, just like the last guy he had sent to infiltrate as-Sirat. When he woke up, the DNI was as depressed as he had been in a long time. Losing Hassan would be devastating. It would be tough on a professional level but possibly worse on a personal one. The welcome news from Pakistan was just what he needed.
McClintock thought back to the last conversation he and Hassan had before the bombing. He had really wanted to meet in person to see his charge one last time but managed to resist that urge. It would have been bad trade craft. Instead, they had talked on the phone for over an hour.
The DNI dispensed last minute advice and urged Hassan to stay calm, no matter what happened.