Day 6, 1455HRS
Approx. 100miles inland of Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

I bluff the guards. Here for the deal, I say. They don't like my accent, but I give them the ol' "Don't worry, sirs, I'm not American, I'm Canadian" routine which, I believe, is official State Department policy. I offer to sing the first verse of O Canada to seal the deal. The easily confused terrorist moves towards his radio set to call his boss for verification, and gets a tranquilizer dart to the base of his skull along with his friend, and their bodies slump to the ground in unison. I’m in.

As I walk through the bright sandy alleys I hear a remote alarm sound: looks like someone found my handiwork. I press against the yellow-bricked walls and move forward cautiously. There’s a whole squad of armed sentries blocking the route. I don’t have to confront them, it could be messy. I noticed a locked door just around the last corner.

A little jimmying of the lock and I’m in. I climb to the next level up, take a run and leap across the gap between buildings. I’m not careful enough, a guard sees me and starts firing as I’m in mid-flight.

I hit the floor, roll, and swiftly pad down the stairs, coming up behind a bad guy in a doorway.

Everyone’s looking above them, or to the fore, or the left, everywhere I’m not. A bit of luck. I fly at the first silhouette and my foot makes contact, spreading him against a wall, the back of his head smacking against the mortar before he slides down to the tiles in a heap. The flat of my palm connects with the second terrorist’s neck and he keels backwards, groaning. As the third one just outside turns at the noise I unholster my pistol and fire a dart at his forehead. Where’s the last guard? He’s trying to circle around me, going through the door I unlocked. I race up behind him as he mounts the ladder, grab a shoulder and slinging my fist in an upward arc as he spins.

Blood pumping in my ears, I walk back, stepping over the first sleeping sentry and deactivate the alarm. Four down. I snap a full clip into the pistol and continue forward.

I stop short of a large square, with one, two, three, four guards patrolling complex patterns. I’m not sure I can get past them unscathed.

Weighing up my options, I notice another locked door opposite me. This one, however, is in plain sight of the square. I won’t be able to pick it without being discovered and the alarm being raised. I would be a sitting duck as these guys are spread out over multiple levels. Then I remember my ace in the hole.

A little trick they taught me in the academy. An EMP grenade, when applied in the correct fashion to a wooden door with a rusty metal latch, can work wonders. Badabing, I’m in. Don’t ask me how. I’d have to kill you. I circle around, giving the square a wide berth, pass it and climb the crumbling tower at the far side until I can scramble across to the other end, one step closer to my target.

These guys are big time. See those minarets? They’re not minarets. What are they? ICBMs.

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