Prologue
After thirty years, Addi Birol was free. He was a broken shadow of a man, but he was free. The United States would never have let him go, but during a prisoner transfer, the bus was hijacked, and all of the prisoners turned loose except Addi himself. Birol was taken, and a bag pulled over his head.
At first, he thought he was going to be killed, but when the bag came off, he was surrounded by a group of his countrymen. Young men, all of them fellow Saudis like himself, stood around him smiling.
"Addi Birol," one of them said in Arabic, "It is an honor to finally meet you. I am Majid Boutros, the leader of Karbalah."
Addi's eyes widened at this. That the leader of Karbalah was no more than a child was unthinkable. "How … old are you, Majid?"
"Twenty two," the young man replied. "We are … all that is left. My father was the last senior member, but he died fighting the Americans in Afghanistan after our brothers destroyed the Trade Towers. We were hoping that you, esteemed fighter in the cause, might help us rebuild, that we may take the fight against the Great Satan to America's shores, and strike against them on their own soil."
It warmed Addi's heart to know that the young had not given up on Karbalah, but if this was all that was left …
"Majid, how many of us are there?"
"We are all that remain of Karbalah."
Addi was afraid of that. But, he was free. And he had just the plan to put Karbalah back on the map … and to make the architects of his imprisonment pay dearly. He would start with those most directly responsible for his fall: Lee Stetson and Mara Petrak. And he knew just who to use as bait …