have saved himself a lot of pain, and saved us a lot of time. Not to mention saving all of us some discomfort. Well, the PSO guys didn’t care—they did this stuff on their coffee breaks. Maybe, though, the pain was part of the process on the road to salvation.
Hakim interrupted my thoughts and said to me and Brenner, “There is also an issue of the money. Altair rejects it, but he will want this for his family.” He explained, “It is a thing which worries the martyrs for Islam. Their families. So, Altair will give me his family name and I will promise that his family receives the money—in exchange, of course, for the information you need.”
Hakim thought a lot about money, but he might be on to something.
“Okay,” I said, “so how do we make all this work?”
Colonel Hakim replied thoughtfully, “First, we must offer Altair two kinds of death. The one will be a bullet in the head, right here, and he will die a defeated man, a prisoner, and not a martyr who has died in jihad and who would ascend directly to Paradise. And also there is no promise of money to his family.”
Got it.
Hakim continued, “The other death, to die in jihad, a martyr to his faith, that is more difficult to arrange.”
Maybe I should challenge Altair to a knife fight, but the old guy could get lucky and I’d be the one heading for Paradise.
Zamo, who was standing near the vehicles and who had spent some time in Islam, said, “Let the old guy go into the camp.”
Yeah?
Hakim thought that might be a good idea and said, “Yes, he can be with the dead martyrs, his jihadists. He will pray among them, and find peace.”
Great. But first he has to do the open sesame thing with the cave.
Hakim continued, “When I spoke to him earlier, he believed two things—that God spared him for a purpose, but also that he had not achieved martyrdom as his jihadists had.”
Right. A little survivor’s guilt. We can help him with that.
Brenner said to Hakim, “Speak to him. But don’t forget what we need from him.”
Hakim said he certainly understood, and he reminded us, “Do not forget what I need from you.”
How could we forget?
So Brenner, Kate, and I joined Zamo near the Land Cruiser to get out of Altair’s sight.
Hakim’s goons sat the old man up, gave him some water, and Hakim began talking to him.
About ten minutes later, Hakim came over to us and said, “Altair has told me that he believes Bulus ibn al-Darwish was in this camp, and that he died here.”
That was not what I wanted to hear.
Hakim continued, “But he has also told me that because he believes his chief is dead, he can now reveal the place where al-Darwish once lived.”
That’s more like it. I think we all understood that Altair was bullshitting himself, but sometimes you gotta do that to save your soul, like me eating hamburgers on Good Friday and calling them veggie burgers. I mean, you can’t bullshit God, but you can bullshit yourself.
We walked back to the edge of the basin and there was Altair, stumbling down the slope toward the Al Qaeda camp, going home.
Colonel Hakim told us, “He will die here. And that is good.”
Very good.
“Or, perhaps, God will again spare him, and we may hear from him someday.”
“I hope not.” But a deal is a deal, and on that subject, I asked Colonel Hakim, “Where is The Panther’s hideout?”
Hakim looked off at the distant hills beyond the basin and pointed. “There.”
“Can you be a bit more specific?”
He got specific and asked, “Do you see that peak? The one that resembles the sail of a ship?”
Were we getting directions to Noah’s Ark?
It was hard to see much in the moonlight, but I thought I saw what Hakim was pointing to. Zamo, however, had his nightscope on it and he said, “I see it. It’s about three klicks, across some rough terrain.”
Kate and Brenner were also looking at it through the lower-powered daylight scopes on their rifles, and they said they could see it clearly in the moonlight. Great.
Colonel Hakim informed us, “Altair says there is a trail which begins on the far side of the camp. If you can locate that trail, it will take you to the other side of that mountain where the trail will ascend to the cave of Bulus ibn al-Darwish.”
Piece of cake. Or a sack of bullshit. I asked Hakim,