tell me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. He told me not to ask him again. I don’t think he knew. I think he was working for someone else.”
“Who?” said Harvath.
“I don’t know.”
“Who do you think?”
“I don’t know. He is a Uighur. Chinese Muslim. We knew each other from the jihad. I don’t know who he worked for.”
Harvath changed tack. “Where are these six men?”
“It’s too late.”
“Where are they?” he repeated.
“They are already inside the United States.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” Yaqub answered. “I didn’t handle that part.”
“You don’t seem to know very much, do you, Ahmad? You know what? I don’t believe you.”
“Kashgari requested special men,” the terrorist clarified. “Smart men. Engineers.”
Engineers. The word sent a chill down Harvath’s spine. Terrorists recruiting engineers could mean only one thing—bombs.
“Where did these engineers come from?”
“I don’t know.”
He was playing with him and Harvath didn’t like it. He forced his head beneath the water again.
Yaqub was weak and he didn’t fight for very long. Harvath knew he was taking a risk.
Pulling the man’s head back up he yelled at him, “This isn’t a game, Ahmad. You tell me now. Who are they and where did they come from?”
Yaqub, his body suffering from the cold and repeated oxygen deprivation, was trembling wildly. “I don’t know,” he repeated.
“Which of your children, which of your wives do you want me to kill first?”
“Khuram Hanjour,” he muttered. “Khuram Hanjour.”
“Who is Khuram Hanjour?”
“Khuram Hanjour,” the terrorist repeated, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
Harvath slapped Yaqub again. He looked like he was going hypothermic. “Ahmad, who is Khuram Hanjour? Ahmad. Ahmad.”
Harvath slapped him once more, and for a moment, the man’s eyes met his. “Ahmad, tell me who Khuram Hanjour is.”
“The recruiter,” the man said.
“Khuram Hanjour recruited the men?”
Yaqub’s head lolled to the side, the water now up to his chin.
Harvath slapped him again. “Ahmad, where do I find Khuram Hanjour?”
Nothing.
“Who was Kashgari working for? Tell me.”
It was no use. Yaqub had lost consciousness.
CHAPTER 7
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* * *
PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY GENERAL STAFF HEADQUARTERS, BEIJING, CHINA
Colonel Jiang Shi hated politicians. Few possessed analytic minds. Fewer still understood the tenets of warfare. It was why he had wanted the politicians kept out of it.
But the nine-member Politburo Standing Committee was the supreme decision-making body of the Chinese Communist Party. Nothing in China was done without their permission. Shi had been left with little choice, especially when his superiors secured an invitation from the General Secretary for him to make the presentation himself.
Depending on whom you asked, the meeting had either been a success or an utter disaster. Shi believed it fell in the latter camp.
A thirty-five-year veteran of the Chinese military, Colonel Jiang Shi worked for the PLA’s intelligence division, known simply as “Second Department.” Second Department was home to some of China’s greatest strategic thinkers, including Shi, who headed the PLA’s unrestricted warfare program. Snow Dragon had been his idea.
With good reason, the Politburo Standing Committee was highly resistant to any talk of attacking the United States—even if carried out by third-party nationals. If China’s involvement were ever exposed, the repercussions would be devastating. It would mean nuclear war. No matter how many times Colonel Shi repeated his deepest held belief that the United States would be made to bow to China, the answer from the PSC was an unequivocal and emphatic no.
Shi had been disappointed, but far from surprised. Politicians lacked not only vision, but courage. He had returned to his office, opened his walk-in safe, and relegated Snow Dragon to the stack of other rejected plans he and his people had developed over the years. At some point, China would wake up and realize that war with the United States was inevitable. When that happened, his phone would ring. Two weeks later, it did.
The General Secretary, who was a supporter of Second Department and its unrestricted warfare program, had lobbied continually in favor of a strike against the United States. He presented them with fact, after fact, after fact. China was running out of time, and options. Either China would dictate the terms of war or the terms of war would be dictated to it. War, though, was inevitable. Eventually, the PSC agreed. Permission was granted, but with one caveat. The Politburo Standing Committee wanted essential Chinese personnel evacuated from America beforehand.
There was absolutely no way such a thing could be done without risking exposure. The plan’s success depended upon the United States and the rest of the world believing that the attack had been committed by Al Qaeda terrorists. If anything