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he realized that the success of the whole depended upon the expendability of the parts. The members of the ALH could not dwell on their own fate; the Jihad must be advanced. And even though Hujr demanded a price for his actions, he still realized his place.
    Hujr leaned forward and put the pipe stem on a cradle. “So what is it that you require of me?”
    “Your heritage … and your skill. To accomplish perhaps one of the greatest coups in history.”
    “Is that all?” Hujr answered. The hashish made him cocky; Kamil reddened but did not voice disapproval.
    Ghazzali seemed slightly amused. He said, “The information I give you will have to be minimal. If you are discovered, it is best that the entire plan not be revealed.” Ghazzali turned to his left and pulled out a paper.
    “You must make plans to travel to the United States.”
    Hujr’s eyes grew large. “Tonight you will leave Do’brai and travel to Cuba. There you will select the equipment you will need; your equipment will be smuggled to Russia while you fly to Mexico. From Mexico City, it is a simple matter to get across the border to the United States. Once there, you must be extremely careful. Your compatriot, Du’Ali al-Aswad, is waiting for you in Washington, D.C.
    “Later, you will rendezvous with your equipment in Russia. Neither you nor those transporting the equipment will have any knowledge of the exact whereabouts of the other. Until, of course, you arrive in Russia.”
    “Why is the equipment in Russia if I must go to the United States?”
    “That will come later.” He handed over a packet through which Hujr flipped. “We have identified three prospective marks in the United States, one of whose identities you must assume. You will have three weeks once you are in Washington, D.C., to determine which mark will enable you best to accomplish your mission.
    “If you are picked up, you must deny everything. Nothing must cause this plan to fail. Too many people are depending on you. The Jihad will surely suffer if you do not succeed.”
    Hujr absently put his hand into the abiyeh and turned the coins between his fingers. “And my payment?”
    “Ah, yes.” Ghazzali turned and snapped his fingers. A servant appeared from out of the veiled wall. “Zaynab—bring him.” The servant nodded and disappeared. Ghazzali turned back to Hujr. “The usual money, plus an extra to encourage you to make it back to Do’brai.”
    A young boy was shoved into the room. He picked himself up from the ground and stared defiantly at the three. A smile tugged at the corners of Hujr’s lips. “The extra?”
    “Of course. He is quite wild, and I understand, is what you desire.”
    “Where did you get him?”
    “Does it matter? But if you must know, he was picked up in a raid across the border. Spoils of war, and all that.”
    “I must try out the merchandise to see if it’s worth it—”
    “Only if you succeed.”
    Hujr nodded. He placed the coins back in his pouch and relaxed in his chair. “When do I leave?”
    General Kamil shifted his weight and spoke up. “Tonight. We’ll have you out of the country by daybreak.”
    “Good.…there is no time to waste.”
    At the words, Ghazzali clapped his hands. “Remove the boy.”
    As they dragged the young man away he managed to spit; Hujr lurched back and wiped at the spittle that reached him. The general laughed—happy, it seemed for the first time all night. Hujr reached for his pipe and drew on the coarse-smelling hemp. “He will do fine … if he keeps his temperament.”

Chapter 3
    1430 ZULU: MONDAY, 13 AUGUST
    No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne: no gall, no glory: no cross, no crown.
    William Penn
    Mexico City
    Hujr pulled down his sunglasses and ignored the man coming toward him. Behind him passengers were still exiting the gate; to his front, the long customs line split into two: one for returning nationals and the other for foreigners entering the country. As the man approached, Hujr set