Sword Of God (6 page)

As requested, Nasir placed his papers in a tiny basket and handed it to the guard, who quickly disappeared into the booth, where he’d inspect everything, putting extra emphasis on the paperwork that granted travelers access to Mecca. To get clearance, Muslims must file the proper certificates (vaccinations, marriage, birth, etc.) weeks in advance, pay the proper entry fees, and include a notarized letter from the director of their mosque that certified their faith. Passports were required as well, but unlike some cities that frowned on visitors from certain nations, Mecca was the ultimate melting pot, a city whose sole existence was to greet visitors from all countries, as long as the visitors believed in Islam.

This time of year—the last month of the Islamic calendar—the city was particularly busy, hosting more than two million guests who were there for the hajj, the pilgrimage that all able-bodied Muslims were required to make at least once in their lifetimes. To accommodate the influx of travelers, the Saudi government built a special airport in Jeddah, the largest in the world in overall area, consisting of a dozen terminals. Traffic flow was so specialized that it was open only for the hajj season. The rest of the year it sat dormant, unable to handle normal operations.

Unfortunately, the airport sat fifty miles west of Mecca, meaning everyone who flew in for the hajj still had to pass through the same security checkpoints as those who drove. This clogged the roadways with cars, vans, and tour buses, plus the occasional hearty soul who walked the entire way through the desert heat. Nasir had heard stories of men passing through security on the hump of a camel, but thus far he hadn’t seen any.

Three minutes later, the guard returned with his approved paperwork. Everything had checked out; Nasir was free to enter the city. Lifting the metal gate, the guard welcomed him with a common Islamic greeting.
“Salaam aleikoum.”

He replied,
“Aleikoum salaam.”

Peace be upon you.

And on you, peace.

Nestled in bleak mountains that were barren from the desert heat, Mecca (spelled Makkah in Saudi Arabia) is a bustling city of more than 1.2 million people. Founded in about 400 AD as a nomadic trading post, it expanded through the centuries, becoming the holy center for one of the world’s biggest religions. Five times a day, more than 1 billion Muslims turn toward Mecca and pray. This direction of prayer is known as the
kiblah.
All mosques around the world are built to face the Kaaba, a holy shrine that stands in the center of the Great Mosque in Mecca.

The Kaaba is located at 21°25‘21.70”N, 39° 49′ 33.64″ E.

The city itself has no railroads or airports, and its drinking water has to be pumped in from surrounding areas due to a lack of underground wells, yet it is still a modern metropolis, filled with restaurants, malls, museums, and skyscrapers. Nasir was expecting none of those things as he drove through Mecca for the first time. He was anticipating something more ancient, more hallowed—a collection of mosaics and domes that showcased the beauty of Islamic art and architecture, not a steady flow of tourists looking for clearance items at an outdoor bazaar.

His biggest shock came when he spotted a Kentucky Fried Chicken not far from the Kaaba. He was tempted to stop, just to see if Colonel Sanders was wearing his southern white suit and tie or if they’d dressed him up in a robe and sandals. The possibility made him laugh, a welcomed tension-breaker before he completed the last part of his mission.

Nasir drove to the designated area, not far from the Great Mosque, and parked his car. This part of town, known as the old city, used to be crammed with houses and apartments that had been there for generations. But most of them were bulldozed to widen the streets for me millions of pilgrims who flooded this area during the hajj and to erect a colossal new building project known as the Abraj Al Bait Towers Complex.

Ironically, it was during the razing process that an important discovery had been made.

While clearing the way for something new, an ancient relic had been found.

If Nasir hadn’t known where to look, he never would have seen the tunnel entrance. Accessed by a wooden shack and protected by a chain-link fence, it was hidden behind several piles of debris and an assortment of construction materials. On the surface, it appeared that another building was going up. But the opposite was true. They were going
down,
excavating deep into the ground underneath Mecca.

Wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, Nasir stepped around the rubble and peeked inside. Lights had been strung along the ceiling, giving him a glimpse of the thin wooden boards that lined the interior. It looked like an abandoned mine shaft, the kind found in an Arizona ghost town. Dusty and unstable. Creaking all the time. Like it was liable to collapse at any moment.

Suddenly, he regretted their meeting place. They wanted him to go in
there?

No wonder they paid him all that money. He had risked his life several times in two days.

And for what? A take-out menu?

None of it made any sense.

But who was he to argue with fortune? If he kept his cool, he’d be done in five minutes. Just make the drop and leave. No sense hanging around. After that, he’d drive to the airport and disappear for a long time. Maybe take a long vacation. Or buy a new house.

With all that cash, he could do whatever he wanted.

Nasir glanced at his watch and smiled.

It was time to get this over with.

A generator purred in the gloom while Jones tried to grasp what he saw. The first image that leaped to mind was the interior of an anaconda. Recognized as the largest snake in the world, it often bit its prey with its sharp teeth before squeezing it to death with its muscular coils. Afterward it swallowed its meal whole, sometimes unhinging its own jaw to engulf the entire carcass. Larger victims, such as sheep or deer, could often be seen through the snake’s flesh, slowly dissolving inside.

In Jones’s mind, he had just walked through the mouth, a gruesome cavity filled with blood and gore. Now he was staring at the belly, the place where the bodies were disposed.

The cave stretched farther than his eyes could see, fading to black somewhere in the depths of the mountain. Thick metal bars were anchored at irregular intervals on each side of the expanse, makeshift cages that were part man-made, part geology. Computer lights blinked in the distance, the glow of technology in an otherwise archaic world.

To him, none of it made any sense.

Like pieces from several jigsaw puzzles all mixed together.

Payne noticed the confusion on Jones’s face and came forward to investigate. Seconds later, he was just as bewildered. “What is this place?”

“I have no idea.”

Dr. Sheldon heard the comment and asked, “Have either of you heard of Roh Tae-woo, the former president of South Korea? In the early nineties, a large cave was discovered on Jeju that housed the remains of several islanders slaughtered just after World War II. Instead of announcing die discovery to the world, Roh sealed the cave, hoping to keep it quiet. Eventually word of his cover-up was unearthed and he was imprisoned for his actions.”

Jones considered the information. “And this is his cave?”

“No.
That
cave is on Mount Halla. This cave is still a secret.”

“Whose
secret?”

“Ahhh, now we’re getting somewhere. Whose secret indeed?!”

Sheldon squeezed past the duo and walked toward the small table that sat in a natural nook along the right-hand wall. He clicked on a desk lamp and rummaged through a large stack of folders. Each of them classified. Each of them critical. Yet in his mind there was no need for a locked safe, since the front door was being guarded by snipers.

“Here you go,” Sheldon said. “Who wants to read it first?”

Jones took the file while Payne held the flashlight. No arguing. No bickering. No ego of any kind. Both men knew mat Jones was better at analyzing information. It was his specialty. He had an innate ability to spot important facts and incongruities faster than anyone Payne had ever met. So Payne did the smart thing and let Jones decipher the data.

According to the folder, they were standing in a lava tube that was discovered by locals in 1824. It measured 1.2 miles in length. Parts of it were narrow, less than 4 feet wide, while other sections were spacious. One gallery soared to more than 22 feet in height and was originally used as storage space for smugglers, who valued the constant cool temperature and natural protection of the black stone. Decades ago smuggling was the main source of income on the island, so the exact location of the cave was a fiercely guarded secret. Villagers protected it with their lives and were rewarded for their efforts.

Unfortunately, their loyalty was used against them in the aftermath of World War II.

In an attempt to establish control on Jeju, the South Korean government labeled everyone who was associated with smuggling as Communists and demanded their capture. This set off a chain of events that led to the bloodiest event in the island’s history: the Jeju Massacre.

On April 3,1948, rebels from Jeju’s “people’s army” attacked police stations and government offices on Jeju, causing the death of an estimated fifty people while freeing many islanders who they felt had been wrongly accused. They kept control of the island until June 25, when the South Korean government invaded from the mainland and overwhelmed Jeju forces. Thousands of islanders were detained and sorted into four groups (labeled A, B, C, and D), based on their supposed security risk. Unfortunately, the South Korean Navy realized they didn’t have the manpower to guard that many people in captivity. So they did the unthinkable. Instead of letting people go, they ordered the local police to execute everyone in groups C and D.

No trials. No appeals. Just bloodshed.

Thousands of innocents were slaughtered. Bodies were stacked in the streets.

Yet this brutality didn’t stop the rebellion. Over the next six years, a reported eighty thousand islanders were killed— nearly a quarter of Jeju’s population.

Jones glanced up from the file. “How accurate are these numbers?”

“Very,” Sheldon answered. “They’re based on firsthand accounts of American troops.”

Payne interrupted. “You mean we watched the executions?”

Sheldon nodded. “We were summoned to South Korea after World War II to help set up a provisional government. Unfortunately, we had no authority to intervene in an internal conflict. All we could do was keep meticulous records and pray the violence stopped on its own.”

Payne scowled because he knew that was bullshit. The U.S. military had a long-standing tradition of butting into battles where they didn’t belong. Not that he had a problem with that. Sometimes the biggest kid on the block needed to flex his muscles to protect the weakest. Yet for some reason mat wasn’t the case on Jeju. The only question was,
why?

Jones wondered the same tiling. “What was our
real
reason for doing nothing?”

Sheldon smiled under his mask. “Take a wild guess.”

“Because we had more to gain by staying out of it.”

“Such as?”

“Damning information against the new government.”

“And why was
that
important?”

Jones gave it some thought. “Because Jeju is an island in the Korea Strait. The perfect place for Americans to spy on Japan, Russia, China, and North Korea.”

Sheldon nodded, then signaled for them to follow him deeper into the cave. “Smugglers used this facility until 1951. That’s three years
after
the revolt started, which goes to show how secret this place actually was. Outside of locals, no one knew about it. Not the police. Not the government. Not even us. At least until much later.”

He stopped in front of the first cell and admired its simplicity. Iron bars were anchored in the volcanic rock, creating a series of jail cells that stretched deep into the darkness. “Local villagers were held here by the South Korean government. Young, old, men, women. It didn’t matter. Everyone was locked in this cave for weeks. Then, one by one, they were tortured for information about the rebel army that most of them knew nothing about. To this day, the unlucky ones are still buried in the deepest sections of this cave. Hidden behind piles of rock.”

Payne hated stories like this—especially ones that happened so long ago—because no matter how good a soldier he was, there was nothing he could do about tragedies from the 1950s. Of course, there
was
something he could do about the present—that is, if he was given all the facts. Yet for some reason he sensed that Sheldon was hiding something important from them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but his patience was wearing thin.

“Not to be rude, but can we fast-forward to recent history?”

Sheldon glanced at Payne. “Of course we can. What would you like to know?”

“Everything you’re keeping from us.”

The smile faded under his mask, the crinkles disappearing from the corners of his eyes. “Nothing like cutting to the chase.”

“Actually, the chase started two days ago, when we first got on a plane. Yet for one reason or another, you’ve been stonewalling ever since. First by proxy, now in person.”

“What do you mean?”

Payne pointed at him. “There you go! A
perfect
example. Most people respond to questions with answers, not other questions.”

“Jon,” Jones whispered, trying to calm him down.

But Payne brushed him aside. “Seriously, Doc, it’s time for some straight facts. No more history lessons. No more bullshit. Why the hell are we here?”

“To find a missing person. Actually, several missing people.”

Payne rolled his hand in front of him, urging Sheldon to go on. “Some names would help.”

“Before I continue, I need to give you some more background info on—”

“Holy hell! Give me a fuckin’ break!”

“Seriously. This is important information.”

Payne shook his head, unwilling to listen further. “D.J., I swear to God, if he starts talking about the Korean War, I’m going to kick him in the balls.”