It was possible, therefore, that somewhere in the NSA’s databanks were previously overlooked conversations had by Abd al-Aziz Quraishi which might be relevant to the current investigation. The only trouble was, finding them would take time. Shaw had informed Dorrell that a special search program would have to be written and inserted into the system, and then they would just have to wait with their fingers crossed.
But to Shaw’s credit, he had initiated the search immediately, and Dorrell knew he would feed any results back as soon as he had them.
‘So we’re waiting to hear about Quraishi,’ Dorrell said. ‘Okay. Now what can you tell me about this other character, the one they call ‘the Hammer’?’
‘The most likely candidate,’ Rawson said, ‘is a man called Amir al-Hazmi, rumored to have the nickname Matraqat al-Kafir, the Hammer of the Infidel, which is a reference to his supposed position within Arabian Islamic Jihad as the Lion’s executioner and enforcer.’
‘Is that confirmed, or just supposition?’
‘Supposition, but we’re fairly confident. Not much is known about him except the fact that he fought with al-Qaida since his early teens, after his family was killed by Saudi security forces. He led an attack on the Ministry of Interior headquarters, but was captured and tortured. Somehow, he managed to escape, and resurfaced years later as a leading lieutenant in the newly formed AIJ.’
Dorrell nodded his head in thought. ‘When did he lead this attack?’
Rawson consulted his notes. ‘The summer of 2010, just over ten years ago.’
Dorrell continued nodding, as he searched his own notes. ‘Quraishi was the head of the Mabahith back then, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ Rawson answered. ‘Do you think there’s a link?’
Dorrell shrugged. ‘It’s a possibility,’ he said as he scratched down some more notes in his pad. ‘I’ll get Bud to check in more detail for anything that might link them. Do we know anything else about this al-Hazmi?’
‘If it is the same guy, he’s one of the most feared guys in the Middle East,’ Rawson said. ‘From what we hear, people are literally terrified of this ‘Hammer’ character. He uses an ancient Arabic dagger known as a janbiya, mutilates people with it. Again, it’s rumor, but word is that he hacks off bits of people’s bodies and collects them as trophies. He does this to ‘enemies of Allah’, which might be western hostages, or — just as likely — Arabs who don’t support the ideological goals of the AIJ. He’s skilled with it too, our sources tell us. It’s probably more myth and legend, you know how these things develop, but he’s supposed to have once killed a dozen men during a fight, just using his janbiya and his bare hands.’
Dorrell smiled. ‘Probably bullshit.’
Rawson smiled back. ‘Probably. But enough people are afraid of this guy to at least lend some credence to it.’
‘Okay. So this ‘Hammer’ — possibly Amir al-Hazmi — is one scary son of a bitch. And he might be connected to Quraishi, who might just be the leader of the AIJ. But we still don’t really know shit, do we?’
It was Rawson’s turn to shrug.
‘Do we at least know where al-Hazmi is?’ Dorrell asked. ‘The source we’re using suggests that he might have been the one to transport the package taken from the Fu Yu Shan.’
‘We’re working on it,’ Rawson said positively. ‘Between us and the NSA, we should nail him.’
‘I hope so,’ Dorrell said uneasily. ‘I hope so.’
Navarone was deep in thought. Should he contact JSOC? He knew what they’d say, and didn’t want to take the risk of being told ‘No’ officially.
The only thing he’d been told for certain before the mission began was that his remit was reconnaissance only; on no account whatsoever — save self-defense under extreme provocation — was he to engage the enemy.
But he’d seen enough in the crematorium to disregard those orders in an instant.
Fuck it.
He wouldn’t contact JSOC; not yet, anyway.
He could come up with a plausible scenario involving self-defense before he made his final report; for now, he was going to take his men in and do what he could to save this latest batch of prisoners from a fate which seemed worse than death.
Navarone knew that it was more sensible to wait until nightfall; and yet by evening it would be too late to do any good. They had to go in now, and that was the order that Navarone gave.
Frank Jaffett remained on the far side of the valley with three other men to carry on recon and make sure that nobody in the main camp noticed what was going on outside the fence; they were to radio in immediately if they thought that anyone was taking any undue interest.
Meanwhile, his two explosives experts had disappeared further into the valley, ready to do their own bit to help.
All the other SEALs, as well as the second liaison officer from the PLA, had now joined him over on the western side, and Navarone set two men up on overwatch duty. With a perfect field of fire, they manned their big M60 machine guns, ready to provide covering fire if necessary.
Two more men settled down behind their massive .50 caliber Barrett sniper rifles, ready to shoot through concrete walls if they had to.
Navarone led the rest of the team down the forested slope, but this time Jimmy Cray — an experienced engineer — disabled one panel of the fence, disconnecting it from its power source. Tony Devine cut through the chain link, and everyone crawled through, careful to keep low to the ground.
The men massed at the rear wall of the crematorium — the only place that couldn’t be seen by the main camp’s guard towers — and Navarone checked his watch.
The timing was perfect — they were in position with a minute to spare.
Sweat trickled down Navarone’s face as he waited, saturating his bodysuit. The weather was poor, but it had no cooling effect on him.
And then it happened — four massive explosions which ripped through the valley, one after the other.
Navarone smiled; they were on, and the adrenalin hit him in an instant with a drug-like euphoria.
The explosives had been placed deep within the wooded valley on the far side of the encampment from the area Navarone was now in; the plan was to draw guards away from the camp, right in the opposite direction.
‘They’re going ape shit,’ Jaffett confirmed over the radio moments later. ‘Soldiers are hauling ass out of the camp, officers screaming orders, the place is one big cluster fuck. Nobody’s watching your side of the camp at all.’
‘Roger that,’ Navarone confirmed. ‘We’re a go.’
The prisoners who had been rounded up that morning were not being held in the crematorium — Navarone’s earlier search of the secondary compound had revealed that they were in what looked like a laboratory, a single story concrete box just a hundred yards further inside the fence line.
Knowing they had to move while everyone was distracted by the explosions, Navarone gave the nod to his men, and they burst into action, tearing away from the crematorium walls and racing for the laboratory building.
Most of the SEALs gathered around the three walls which faced away from the main camp, but Navarone and Captain Liu strolled confidently around the front, as if they had every right to be there. Navarone knew that only furtive movement typically drew the attention of security personnel, not the confident strides of men who belonged.
It was a ballsy move, but Navarone and Liu arrived at the front of the laboratory building seemingly undetected, Navarone pushing his way through the unguarded door.