asked him to leave the tent. When they were alone, Majid spoke quietly but passionately. “Henry, my dear friend, I’m not asking for you to become a hypocrite. This for us is worse than being an infidel. We have faced such problems before. In 1979, when radicals took over the Grand Mosque and held hundreds hostage, we turned to our French friends for help. They were not Muslims, but they pretended to be. In this case, we required non-Muslims to do the bloody work because violence of any type is forbidden inside the holy areas. Not even a blade of grass can be cut! But these people had to be eliminated, and the French special forces did that for us.
“Now, we have a different situation. Entirely different! We have competent Muslims in our hospitals. They are not creating harm, they are trying to save lives. I recognize that you have a special gift. I can think of no one better than Henry Parsons to oversee this tragedy. But if you wish to go into our holiest city, you must do so with a pure spirit. I don’t know how you became so bitter about religion, but I ask you to honor that Islam is who we are. If you disgrace our religion, it is as if you spit on our soul.”
Henry was moved by his friend’s sincerity, but not by his argument. Religion of any sort aroused intense feelings in him that were difficult to categorize. He felt contempt. He felt fear. He felt curiosity. There were other emotions swirling around, but he considered that the fear and curiosity were similar to his aversion to heights. He didn’t want to get close to the edge, but still he was drawn, and that inner compulsion frightened him. Therefore, he was prone to lash out.
“I have nothing but respect for you, Majid, I am sure you must know that,” Henry said. “Nor do I think less of Islam than any other belief system. They are all the same to me. But tell me, how many people died in 1979, when you let the French soldiers inside?”
“Hundreds, maybe thousands,” Majid said. “We speak about it only in whispers. Perhaps no one alive knows the truth of this even now.”
“You’re a doctor. You have the responsibility for the health of your people,” Henry said. “Tell me, doctor: How many might die if a novel epidemic takes hold inside the hajj?”
Majid was silent.
“I’ve seen what it does to people,” Henry continued in his unsparing indictment. “Extreme fatality. Horrible deaths. They were also Muslims. But they were only a few hundred. Here you have millions. If you truly care about your religion, you must act.”
Majid closed his eyes. Henry realized he was praying. Another emotion that sometimes clouded his thinking where religion was concerned was envy. How pleasant to believe that a force outside of one’s self cared about human events, a force that could influence the outcome of a dilemma such as this one—if only a person prayed hard enough and persuasively enough to capture the divinity’s attention. The concept of holiness meant nothing to Henry, but he recognized that Majid lived partly in the supernatural, where the imaginary had the force of the real, and what felt morally weightless to Henry imposed an awful burden on the conscience of his friend.
Majid’s eyes opened, and he abruptly summoned Colonel al-Shehri, who was standing just outside. They spoke in English, for Henry’s benefit. “I listened to God, and he told me that Henry is a true Muslim,” Majid said. Al-Shehri glanced at Henry with a scornful expression and then quickly turned back to his prince. Whatever doubt or animosity al-Shehri harbored would simply be pushed aside. There were really only two forces in Saudi Arabia—God and the family that owned the country—and one did not question either. The colonel called for a Land Cruiser and the three men drove down the hillside, across the ring road, and through a gate marking the entry into the holy quarter.
“Do me one favor, Henry,” Majid said under his breath. “You are under my protection, so do not provoke anyone. And since I don’t have time to teach you to pray, we must be out of the city before sunset.”
Henry kept his eyes averted as they rode into Mecca, as if not seeing was a way of not actually being there. Still, he had the sense of an ancient place awkwardly retrofitted for the modern age, skyscrapers on narrow streets,