Payne smiled at the thought, realizing it was a debt he'd gladly pay if he managed to get out of the city alive. Unfortunately, he wasn't ready yet. Not even close. The
tripwire was one thing; the bomb itself was another. Not only did he have to disarm the timer mechanism, he also had to figure out what to do with the C-4 so it wasn't used by someone else. Whether that be Schmidt. Or the Saudis. Or some terrorist group that operated out of the area.
Which meant he had to do more than disarm the bomb.
He had to take the damn thing with him.
Jones finished his search of building three but came up empty. Literally.
The mechanical penthouse did have a water tank, just like Payne had described in building two, but there was no liquid inside. The massive tank was bone dry, not a drop of water or jet fuel to be found. When he tapped on its side, it sounded like a hollow drum.
"Three is clear," he announced.
Jones hustled back across the roof and into the construction elevator. Due to the death of his soldiers, there were still two more towers to inspect. Building five (Sarah) sat to his west, in the back corner of the complex. Strategically, it would be the least likely target, since it posed the smallest threat. On the other hand, building seven (Safa) was right up front, overlooking the main road that would soon be filled with pilgrims. In his mind, that made it a probable target until he stared down at it from the elevator and saw that the top floor was still being built. There was no water tank or mechanical penthouse. There wasn't even a roof. That meant unless Schmidt found some other weakness on the lower floors, the odds were against its attack.
To Jones, the building that seemed most vulnerable was building six (Marwah). It was closest to the Great Mosque, sitting just north of Payne's tower, and its construction seemed to be the farthest along. He saw windows. And stonework. And painting. All the little details that get takencare of after the big stuff was finished. Including the installation of pipes and water tanks.
"Building six, what's your status?"
There was a slight delay. "The elevator is broke, so I'm hooting it to the penthouse."
"Current location?"
"Floor nine."
"Nine? What's the holdup?"
"There's scaffolding everywhere, and I keep tripping on my goddamn dress."
Payne heard the transmission and nearly burst out laughing; the only thing that prevented it was the severity of the situation. "If Nancy needs my help, I'm available."
Jones smiled, glad that Payne was still alive. "Is two clear?"
"Two is finally clear."
"Glad to hear it."
Payne continued. "I spotted a walkway that connects my building with six. I can get to the penthouse before he can."
"Where do you want him?"
"Send him to one of the remaining towers. Whichever is closest to the mosque."
"Sending him to seven."
"Where are you headed?"
"I'm going to …" Jones stopped, breaking off his response in midthought. Several seconds passed before he spoke again. "I think I see the sniper."
The soldiers known as Matthew and Mark were getting frustrated. According to their watches, they should have hccn heading toward their rendezvous point, not dicking around with the detonator in building six. The explosive had been placed, and fuel was in the tank. Just as it should be. Unfortunately, when Mark tried to set the timer on the device, it wouldn't start. Either it was defective or broken or its battery was lacking juice.
Whatever the case, the damn thing didn't work.
At this point, they didn't have many options. The other device was set to go off in less than twenty minutes, and when it did, they didn't want to be anywhere near the complex.
The clock was ticking and the pressure was building.
They couldn't afford any more delays.
Spotting the sniper was nothing more than a lucky break. Jones was in the construction elevator in building three, studying the layout of the complex. While he spoke to Payne, he saw a flash of movement in building one. The Hotel Tower would eventually be twice as tall as the others; however, right now it was just a partial shell, a third of its eventual height.
Jones slowed the elevator for a better look and confirmed his initial sighting. There was a man with a rifle positioned near the northeastern corner. He was gathering his things, getting ready to leave. Maybe to find a better spot. More likely to evacuate the site. Whichever the case, Jones knew this was his best chance to stop him.
Payne had mentioned a walkway between two and six, and Jones knew the same thing existed between one and three. In fact, all of the buildings were interconnected with a series of bridges and corridors. Two connected with four and six. Three connected with five and seven. And one connected with two and three.
Seven buildings, but no need to walk through the lobby to move between towers.
At least that's how it would be when the complex was done. Right now, the only ming connecting one and three was a series of long steel beams separated by the width of a car. No floor. No ceiling. No windows. Just a lot of open air and five hundred feet to fall if he took a misstep or a strong gust of wind decided to knock him off. If so, he would land in the central plaza, creating a much bigger mess than the two soldiers who were killed by the sniper.
Screw it, he thought. This guy is mine.
Jones exited the elevator and walked to the edge of the steel frame. In his mind, the key to staying calm was getting things over with before he had a chance to get nervous, so he pulled his thobe above his knees-not wanting to trip- took a deep breath, and stepped onto the narrow beam. It felt solid underneath his feet, like walking on a curb.
Step after careful step, he moved at a steady speed. Never looking down. Always focusing on a point five feet in front of him. Make it there, then move to the next. Nothing but small segments. Never large. It was the best way to avoid being overwhelmed.
The entire trip took thirty seconds. By the end, his heart was pounding and his left hand was quivering from all the adrenaline. He flexed the hand a few times, took a deep breath, then continued forward. Refusing to look back at what he had conquered.
More concerned with the perils that waited around the corner.
Payne crept along the outer wall of the mechanical penthouse. Voices could be heard within. Shouting of some kind. He couldn't make out the words-the wind was whistling, and someone was giving him an update on building seven- but it was definitely an argument.
Something to be taken advantage of.
With gun in hand, he opened the metal hatch and slipped inside. Angry words were being exchanged. Two men shouting about their responsibilities. One man said they must finish the job; the other disagreed. The detonator was broken and couldn't be fixed in the next fifteen minutes. They didn't have the tools or the extra parts.
It was music to Payne's ears.
He crouched on the stairs, listening to what was being said, hoping to get as much intel as he could. Neither of the voices belonged to Schmidt-that was too much to hope for-but this was half his squad. Two of the men responsible for the violence in the cave. The murders in the village. The plot to blow up Mecca.
He'd listen for as long as possible before he made his move.
And when he did, they'd pay for their transgressions.
48
When Jones arrived in the northeastern corner, the sniper was no longer there. He had packed his things and abandoned his position less than a minute before.