The Third Target (33 page)

To my surprise, the king agreed.

I looked at Prince Marwan and Kamal Jeddeh. They, of course, deferred to their monarch. So I fished my digital recorder out of my briefcase, turned it on, and set it on the table. Then I pulled out a pad of paper and pen, and we began.

“Your Majesty, thank you for agreeing to sit down to talk with the readers of the
New York Times
,” I began.

“Always a pleasure,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee for the first time since entering the room.

“To begin with, how would you characterize this moment in the broad sweep of Middle Eastern history?”

“I would restate the central case I made in my 2011 book,
Our Last Best Chance: The Pursuit of Peace in a Time of Peril
,” he replied. “I believe we still have one last chance to achieve peace. But the window is rapidly closing. If we do not seize the opportunity presented by the now almost-unanimous international consensus of the solution, I am certain we will see another war in our region
 
—most likely worse than those that have gone before and with more disastrous consequences.”

“You don’t consider the carnage inside Syria and Iraq to be regional wars?”

“The situation in Syria is a civil war, and it is very serious indeed,” the king said. “Our brothers and sisters in Iraq are fighting a terrorist movement. This too is quite serious. But what I was referring to in my book, and what I am warning of now, is the danger of another full-scale war between Arabs and Israelis. This would be catastrophic, which is why we are working so hard to help the Palestinians and Israelis make peace.”

“Is peace at hand?”

“Inshallah,” he said.
God willing.

“You have been deeply involved in behind-the-scenes negotiations between the Israelis and Palestinians, correct?”

“The Palestinians and the Israelis have done all the work,” he said modestly. “I have been particularly impressed with President Mansour. He has worked tirelessly to secure a fair and just result for his people. We have played a minor role, tried to encourage him and Prime Minister Lavi as best we could, based on lessons King Hussein learned while making peace with the Israelis back in the 1990s.”

“What tangible benefits do you see from the Israelis and Palestinians signing a comprehensive peace agreement?”

“As you know, Jordan has been the region’s strongest and most consistent supporter of the creation of a sovereign Palestinian State with its capital in Jerusalem,” the king replied. “If this could truly be achieved
 
—and I do say
if
, though we are closer than ever before
 
—then it would be the most important geopolitical development of the millennium. This would be the fulfillment of a dream that eluded my father, Yasser Arafat, Mahmoud Abbas, and one Israeli prime minister after another. It would be a tremendous blessing for the Palestinian people, who have suffered too much for too long.”

“And for Jordan?”

“My dream, as I have stated on countless occasions, is to link the economies of Israel, Palestine, and Jordan in a common market
 
—similar to Benelux in Western Europe. Imagine if we could combine
the technical know-how and entrepreneurial drive of all three nations to create an economic and business hub in the Levant? The potential for joint tourism is massive, as is the potential for foreign investment.”

I was about to shift the conversation to Abu Khalif, but the king was not finished.

“And let me say another word about tourism,” he added. “Jordan is a leader in encouraging Islamic tourism not only throughout our own nation but to Mecca and Medina and Jerusalem. But we also know that there are some two billion Christians in the world. Imagine if there was truly peace between Jordan, Palestine, and Israel. Imagine if Christian pilgrims could come and visit the Holy Land
 
—on
both
sides of the Jordan River. What a blessing that would be for Christians, as well as for all the people of the region. It is not widely known in the West, but we have in Jordan a small but thriving Christian community that is perhaps the oldest in the world. The place where Jesus was baptized is Jordan’s most important Christian site. It is here on the east bank of the Jordan River. This is where Jesus’ mission started. This is where Christianity began. Jordan is also where Moses lived and died. This is where Elijah the prophet was taken up to heaven in a chariot of fire. There is so much rich history here, and pilgrims could not only come to see it all, but then cross the Jordan River and visit Jericho and Bethlehem and Jerusalem. They could behold the wonders of ancient and modern Jordan, Palestine, and Israel in ways never before possible.

“On my trips abroad I have met with priests, preachers, rabbis, and imams,” he continued. “We have been working hard to build relationships with Christians, the Jewish community, and of course Muslims. We want everyone who shares our heart for peace to come and walk where Jesus and the prophets walked. We are not just
talking
about peace. We are not just
dreaming
about it. We are working very hard each and every day to make peace a reality.”

It was time to pivot.

“Have you read the interview Abu Khalif gave to the
Times
the other day?”

“I have.”

“How would you respond to the ISIS leader’s threats not only to annihilate Israel but to take out any Arab leader who makes peace with the Israelis, yourself and President Salim Mansour included, all to establish a true Islamic caliphate?”

“I am pained by the twisting of my religion by a small band of misguided fanatics,” the king replied. “Such people embrace a deviant form of Islam. While claiming to act in its name, they are in reality just murderers and thugs. They constitute an unrepresentative minority of the 1.57 billion Muslims in the world, but they have had a disproportionate impact on how the faith is perceived. These people are
takfiris
, which in Arabic means ‘those who accuse others of being heretics.’ They rely on ignorance, resentment, and a distorted promise of achieving martyrdom to spread their ideology, turning their backs on over a thousand years of Qur’anic scholarship in the name of what they presume to be the authentic ways of seventh-century Arabia. But the actions of the
takfiris
have nothing to do with Islam and its message. True Islam stands for justice, equality, fairness, and the opportunity to live a meaningful and good life. They seek to destroy these things. In doing so they have turned their backs on the ancient traditions of clemency and compassion.

“My advisors and I have been working for several years to build a broad-based consensus among Islamic scholars and clerics of all stripes regarding the true nature of Islam and the many reasons the
takfiris
are both theologically and historically wrong in their interpretations of the Qur’an. The scholars have produced a document called the Amman Message, which sets out what Islam is, what it is not, and what types of actions are and are not Islamic.”

From memory, he then recited for me a brief passage from the document.

“Today the magnanimous message of Islam faces a vicious attack from some who claim affiliation with Islam and commit irresponsible acts in its name. We denounce and condemn extremism, radicalism, and fanaticism today, just as our forefathers tirelessly denounced and opposed them throughout Islamic history. On religious and moral grounds, we denounce the contemporary concept of terrorism that is associated with wrongful practices. Such acts are represented by aggression against human life in an oppressive form that transgresses the rulings of God.”

I was writing as fast as I could. I glanced up to make sure my digital recorder was still working. Fortunately it was.

“One more question, if I may?”

“Please.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I read your book when it was released in 2011, and I have also read your father’s memoir published in 1962,
Uneasy Lies the Head
,” I said. “One of the common threads of both books is how often the extremists have tried to assassinate you and overthrow your kingdom. As you know, my grandfather, A. B. Collins, witnessed the tragic assassination of King Abdullah I. Now Abu Khalif, the commander of ISIS, is personally threatening to behead you and destroy the peace process into which you and your family have invested so much. My question is, how can you assure the American people, the Jordanian people, the Palestinians, and the Israelis
 
—along with all those in the region and throughout the world who care about peace
 
—that Jordan will remain a strong and stable cornerstone of regional security, especially in light of the ISIS threat?”

“I would simply say this,” the king replied. “The Hashemite Kingdom is the longest-reigning regime in all the Middle East and North Africa. I am not going anywhere. Jordan is not going anywhere. We
are here to stay, and we will remain a beacon of peace and moderation in troubled times.”

I wrote down his words verbatim. They certainly sounded good. And the king was nothing if not sincere. This wasn’t spin. He was saying this from his heart.

I just feared he was dead wrong.

Just before three in the morning, I sat bolt upright in bed.

Shaking and so covered in perspiration that my pillow and sheets felt damp, I got out of bed, turned on the bedside lamp, and made my way across my hotel room to the bathroom to get a glass of water. When I glanced in the mirror, I saw my eyes were bloodshot, but I didn’t have a fever. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t really sick. I was terrified.

ISIS had threatened to wipe out my entire family. I’d just learned that four of the world leaders Abu Khalif most wanted to kill
 
—the president of the United States, the Israeli prime minister, the Palestinian president, and the king of Jordan
 
—were all gathering under one roof, here in Amman, in a few short hours. The question wasn’t “Why had I woken up so early?” but “How had I actually slept at all?”

Death surrounded me.

Matt was right. Everywhere I went, people I cared about wound up dead. I kept telling myself I was strong and able to keep going in spite of it all. But I was no longer sure that was true. I’d just had the most vivid dream of Matt and his family being killed with sarin gas. I’d seen them writhing and gasping for breath and couldn’t
do anything to save them. It was all I could do to convince myself it wasn’t real. It was a nightmare; that’s all. Yet who was to say it wouldn’t soon come true?

If there really were five stages of grief
 
—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance
 
—I couldn’t honestly say I’d even begun. I hadn’t even started into denial. I was somewhere between shock and primordial fear. For most of my life, I hadn’t been afraid of death because I’d never really taken it seriously. I’d never even thought about it in any depth. I hadn’t believed in an afterlife. But now everything had changed.

I was now certain there was an afterlife. I was now certain that heaven and hell were real places that real people went. I couldn’t explain how. I just knew. What I didn’t know was how to get to heaven. Matt said Jesus was the only way. I wasn’t so sure. Which meant he was right about another thing
 
—I was in danger. If I didn’t have a route to heaven, didn’t that mean I was on the road to hell?

I turned off the lamp, unplugged my mobile phone from its charger, and used the glow of its screen to find my way to the darkened window. I turned on the air-conditioning and then lay down on top of the comforter. I checked the
Times
home page. My interview with the king had just been posted. Allen and I were still communicating only through e-mails and text messages. But he was no longer telling me to come home. I was in the epicenter of the story, and he wanted me to stay put and send him everything I could. That suited me just fine. I had no intention to run from Abu Khalif, even if I had told my brother to.

I checked my e-mails. There were nine, all from various U.S., European, and Israeli reporters. They were all asking for interviews describing my personal take on Abu Khalif. I didn’t have time for that. But I did take the next ten minutes or so sending a few quotes to each of them, giving them some tidbits. Most important, I verified that I’d seen ISIS use chemical weapons in Mosul. After all, the
only reason Khalif hadn’t killed me yet was so I could keep telling the world he had weapons of mass destruction. And that was a story I was determined to tell anyway.

I checked my text messages. There were three from my mom, telling me she was praying for me, asking me to come home, and asking me to read the Twenty-third Psalm. There was a smattering of others from various sources and colleagues, checking on me and asking me to call them. There were no new messages from Yael. I’d called her twice the previous evening
 
—once immediately after my interview with the king, on the drive back to Le Méridien; the other right before I went to bed. I’d texted her too. I was eager to talk to her, to hear her voice, to learn more about the “dangerous developments” she had referred to. But so far, nothing.

There was, however, a text from Matt.

Just touched down in a faraway city,
it read simply.
Won’t say where for now, but wanted you to know we’re safe. Don’t worry about us. Kids don’t understand what’s happening. Think it’s an adventure. Annie’s fine. Sends her love.

Two minutes later, another came in.

Annie says read Psalm 3. Thought you might be encouraged by it too. Praying for you. Love you.
 
—Matt

A moment later, another SMS message arrived, this one with a link to Psalm 3 on some online Bible. With nothing else to do at the moment, I clicked on the link and read it aloud in my room.

“O Lord, so many are against me. So many seek to harm me. I have so many enemies. So many say that God will never help me. But Lord, you are my shield, my glory, and my only hope. You alone can lift my head, now bowed in shame. I cried out to the Lord, and he heard me from his Temple in Jerusalem. Then I lay down and slept in peace and woke up safely, for the Lord was watching over me. And
now, although ten thousand enemies surround me on every side, I am not afraid. I will cry to him, ‘Arise, O Lord! Save me, O my God!’ And he will slap them in the face, insulting them and breaking off their teeth. For salvation comes from God. What joys he gives to all his people.”

The heading above the psalm noted that its author was the ancient King David. I wondered how David could lie down and sleep peacefully when ten thousand enemies were hunting him down to kill him the first chance they got. I didn’t get it and wasn’t sure I ever would.

I got up again and opened my laptop. While I was waiting for the computer to boot up, I thought about the king’s upcoming trip to Baghdad and whether I really wanted to go along after all. Professionally, it was probably the right thing to do. But I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. How much more of this could I really take? I was emotionally and physically exhausted. My nerves were shot, and truth be told, I had no idea if I could make it through the day. Maybe I should follow my own advice, I thought. Maybe it was time to get out of Jordan
 
—get off the grid and lie low until this whole thing blew over.

It was tempting, but I couldn’t just ditch my job now. People were counting on me, and I had to deliver. I had a huge day ahead of me
 
—interviews with the leaders of Palestine, Israel, and Jordan, and perhaps one with the president of the United States as well. I had to ask them about the ISIS threat, but how could I engage them and get them to really make news, not just spit out prepackaged talking points?

My thoughts shifted back to Abu Khalif. How had he known the peace treaty was a done deal? How had he known King Abdullah had been its broker? How had he known Ismail Tikriti was going to be at the Abu Ghraib prison that night, or that I would be there as well? There wasn’t a reporter on the planet who had known any of these facts in advance, except me. But clearly someone was feeding
Khalif insider information. And if it wasn’t coming from the media, it could only be coming from a mole inside one of the four governments involved. Which meant I had to consider the possibility that Abu Khalif not only knew about the king’s upcoming trip to Baghdad but might know exactly what was happening later today. If there was ever a time for ISIS to strike and strike hard, it was now. It was here.

I shifted my attention again, this time to scanning more of the latest headlines.

Daily Mail
 
—
Another Day, Another ISIS Crucifixion: Man Accused of Joining Syrian Regime Found Hanging from a Cross in Busy Market Town with Cryptic Note Pinned to His Chest

CNN
 
—
Death and Desecration in Syria: Jihadist Group Crucifies Bodies to Send Message

The
Washington Post
 
—
ISIS, Beheadings, and the Success of Horrifying Violence

The
Wall Street Journal
 
—
Militants Claim Photos Show Mass Execution in Iraq

The
Daily Express
 
—
The New Dark Ages: The Chilling Medieval Society ISIS Extremists Seek to Impose in Iraq

The
Guardian
 
—
British PM Warns ISIS Is Planning to Attack UK

On top of all this were stories about the continuing spike in oil prices that was sending new shock waves through an already-battered and fragile global economy.

I shut down the computer and collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

All the lights in the room were off. Only the red numbers on the digital clock were visible. It was 3:46 in the morning. And that’s the last thing I remembered until my alarm went off two hours later.