Infidels (23 page)

If
only we had our comms!

He
growled in frustration.

“Any
luck?”

He
looked up at Red, silhouetted by the sun, the man prone to sunburn, the bane of
redheads the world over. He shook his head. “Negative. This thing is zipped up
tighter than Kirk’s cummerbund.”

“Season
one, two or three?”

“Forget
that, we’re talking Generations tight.”

“That
tight, huh?”

“Yeah, I
don’t think we’re getting into this any time soon, but I’ll keep at it.”

“I think
you just enjoy being on your ass in the shade.”

“Damn
skippy. I have sensitive skin. Look.” He held out a dark brown arm. “You don’t
want to see me sunburnt. I get cranky.”

Red
stared at him for a moment. “I think maybe it’s time for Jimmy to have a go.”

Atlas
was about to try and save the shade when his comm beeped, Red’s as well. Both
quickly checked the display. “What the hell is this?”

“Looks
like coordinates.”

Atlas
quickly brought up the GPS. “Yup, north of here on the coast. Looks like about
sixty miles.”

Jimmy
rounded the outcropping. “Are we back online?”

Atlas
shook his head as he tried to establish a link. “Negative.”

Jimmy
looked at his display. “BD again?”

“DK,”
said Red, reading the last two characters of the short transmission. “That’s
got to be Dylan Kane.”

Jimmy
smiled. “Remind me to tell BD how wonderfully intelligent he is.”

“Don’t
forget handsome, he likes handsome,” added Atlas.

“I’ll
leave that to Niner,” laughed Jimmy. “I never would have thought of reaching
out to Dylan, but he’s perfect. Those CIA boys have a few more options than we
do.”

“Yeah,
like not following the rules.”

“True
dat,” said Jimmy, channeling his inner Niner.

“This
says eight pm local,” said Red, “so I’m guessing it’s some sort of extraction
he’s arranged.”

Something
rumbled in the distance.

“What
the hell was that?” asked Jimmy, spinning toward the sound, another rumble
reaching them, the ground vibrating slightly.

“Sounds
like artillery, maybe a tank?”

The
three of them, joined by the others, climbed to the top of the depression,
lying on their stomachs for a look.

“Jesus,”
muttered Atlas as he took in the scene through his binoculars. Several dozen M–1A2
Abrams tanks were exchanging fire on the desert floor only a couple of miles from
their current position. At least half a dozen were already smoking hulks,
infantry scurrying about to find new cover or rescue those inside. He focused
on the flags hanging from the back of the tanks, one set showing the
distinctive green and white flag of Saudi Arabia, the other showing nothing.

“Who do
you think are fighting the Saudi’s?” asked Jimmy.

“Probably
other Saudi’s,” replied Red. “Nobody else in this area has that type of tank.”

Atlas
felt his chest tighten. “Civil war?”

“It
looks that way.”

Atlas
looked over his shoulder and back at the truck containing the relic. “All
because
we
have that damned thing.”

“How
about we just ride up into the middle of that little skirmish and hand it
over?” asked Jimmy with a tone that suggested he was only half joking.

“We
wouldn’t know what side to give it to. Besides, if that were an option, I’m
sure we would have been informed, not cut-off. No, there’s something bigger
going on here.” He punched the sand. “We need intel!” He looked at Atlas.
“Where were those coordinates again?”

Atlas
nodded toward the tank battle raging below.

“Right
through that shit.”

Embassy of the United States, Paris, France

Dawson sat in a chair while the nurse rubbed some sort of salve on
his burns, reconfirmed as nothing more than a mild sunburn. Niner sat on the
floor, back and head resting against the wall, eyes closed, as the only two
other occupants of the room, Acton and his wife Laura, recovered from what had
been an insane couple of hours.

With a
death toll of over two hundred in the embassy alone and hundreds more injured.

And with
the exception of the brave Marine who had died of his wounds received at the
gate, and one wounded Marine, everyone within the embassy had escaped unscathed
if not terrified.

The
nurse stood, snapping off her gloves. “You’re good to go. Monitor the burns
just in case there’s any blistering, but I don’t think there’ll be any.”

“I hosed
him down pretty quick, doc,” said Niner, his eyes still closed. “In fact, I
think he’s just doing all this for the attention.” Niner opened his eyes and
grinned at the nurse. “Now me, on the other hand, I actually do have a burnt
back from the beach in Spain.”

The
nurse gave him a look. “I’m married, and he’s a hell of a lot better looking
than you.”

Niner
grabbed at his chest, mocking a broken heart.

“Burned!”
laughed Dawson as he stood up, Acton and Laura grinning. “You just made my day,
nurse.”

Niner
looked up at Dawson. “You’ll be hearing about my broken heart for the rest of
it, so don’t be so sure.”

The
nurse turned to Laura. “We’ll be arranging transport for you shortly. We’re
evacuating the embassy as soon as it’s safe to do so.”

Laura
nodded and the nurse left.

“CIA
says Maggie is probably being held at the Saudi embassy. I’m heading there now
to see what I can do.” Dawson looked at Niner, still on the floor, his eyes
closed again, a hand still clasped over his heart. “You coming?”

“Yes.
But only if you hold me.”

“I’ll
have Atlas give you a big hug when we get back to The Unit.”

Niner
pushed himself to his feet. “No thanks, that bastard will crack a few ribs.”

“I’m
coming with you,” said Acton as he rose from his perch on the edge of Laura’s
bed. “You’ll need all the help you can get.”

Dawson
shook his head. “Negative. They were after you two. You showing up will just
give them what they want.” Acton opened his mouth to protest but Dawson cut him
off, nodding toward Laura. “You stay with your wife and get her to safety.
Niner and I will take care of Maggie.”

“You’re
sure?”

“Absolutely.
We’re going to head for the hotel if we can. A delivery was supposed to have
been made with some equipment we’re going to need, then we’ll try to get to the
Saudi embassy, retrieve Maggie, then get the hell out of Dodge. You two get
your asses on a plane and stateside as fast as you can. From the briefing we
just had, what happened here tonight is being broadcast across the world and
has just made things worse. There are reports they’re going building-to-building,
house-to-house and massacring people in revenge all across Europe. I want you
two safe back home. I’m going to have you met at the airport though, because we
don’t know if whoever was after you will make another attempt.”

“Do you
really think they might?” asked Laura, concern on her face as she reached out
for her husband’s hand.

“I have
no idea, but we can’t take the chance. You’ll be met by friendly faces. They’ll
take you to a safe house until this is all settled.”

Acton
frowned. “However long that might be.”

Dawson
sighed. “Let’s just hope Red and the guys can get that thing back into the
right hands. That should hopefully settle things down.”

“Any
word?”

Dawson
shook his head. “No, but Dylan’s on it. I haven’t heard from him yet, but I’m
going to assume he’s got something in the works.”

“He’s a
good kid,” said Acton. “He’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Of
course he will,” said Niner, slapping Dawson on the ass. “He was trained by the
best.”

Dawson
rolled his eyes. “We better get out of here, seeing that bed is giving him
ideas.” He extended his hand, shaking Laura’s then Acton’s. “Good luck,
professors.”

“And to
you, BD. Give Maggie my best
when
you get her,” replied Laura.

“I
will.”

Dawson
opened the door and navigated his way through the carnage, the area swarming
with French police, their assault team already gone to deal with the next
crisis.

“This is
insane,” muttered Niner as they passed through the fallen metal doors, the
first set of body bags arriving, tossed in a pile as the grim task of hauling
away the dead began.

“Such a
waste, all over some perceived injustice.”

“All
over religion. I was raised that religion was supposed to bring out the best in
people, not the worst.”

Dawson
stood aside as a group of police exited the stairwell. “Not all of them, I
guess.” They took the stairs, two at a time, quickly arriving at the ground
floor, the stairwell already cleared of bodies though the bloodstains remained.

The
hallway where they had made their stand was another matter.

Bodies
had been piled to the side so there was a clear path to the main entrance,
dozens of civilian staff members lined up for evacuation, the grim task of
removing the bodies not yet begun. Through the broken windows the grounds
appeared cleared of rioters, a heavy police presence still evident as a chopper
set down to continue the evacuation interrupted earlier.

Dawson
stepped outside into the crisp night air, the stench of thousands of fires
burning across the city filling his nostrils, the calm of the night spoiled by
the sounds of sirens and megaphones still too close for comfort filling the
air.

A group
of ten civilians were led quickly to the helicopter, one woman stopping and
gasping as she pointed to what was left of her car. “Oh my God! They torched my
Jag!”

Dawson
looked. “Sorry to hear that.”

The
woman turned to him and grinned. “No, that’s fantastic! Now I can use the
insurance to buy a car that doesn’t spend half its time in the garage!” She
rushed off toward the helicopter, a bounce in her step that seemed out of place
among the carnage.

Niner
laughed as the chopper lifted off.

“I guess
a little bit of good can come out of anything.”

Unknown Location, Saudi Arabia

“Where are the Americans now?” asked Abu Tahir al-Qarmati of his
underling on the satellite phone, a man he had known for years and trusted with
his life. But a man who had failed him, he responsible for the security of the
operation, having insisted a smaller force was preferred as it would be less
noticeable.

He had
been wrong.

And now
the Prince was dead, and the Black Stone in the hands of the infidels.

An
unfortunate outcome that had proven in the end to be a wonderful blunder, the
chaos worldwide more than he could have ever hoped for. His intentions had been
clear and pure—the destruction of the false idol, and it was still his ultimate
goal. It was more important to put Islam back on the right track than to punish
the infidels for their crimes against the one true religion, though he took
delight in every news report that streamed across his computer screen.

It was a
good day.

But to
make it a perfect day, he needed the Black Stone so it could be destroyed.

“We
don’t know where they are, sir. They had left the Houthi camp before we got
there and they took the false idol with them by the looks of it.”

“Were
they evacuated by helicopter?”

“I don’t
think so. We know the Houthi’s had vehicles and they’re gone now, so most
likely the Americans left in them. I think it’s like you said, sir, they’ve
been abandoned by their government.”

“Good.
That will make them easier to find.”

“It’s a
big desert, sir.”

Al-Qarmati
nodded as he looked at a map of the area, his man’s current location
highlighted with a red arrow. “If I were them I’d be heading for the coast for
possible extraction, or to steal a boat and extract themselves. Try to find
them, Rahim.”

“Sir, I
fear we may be looking for a grain of sand in the desert.”

“True,
but it is a grain of sand that must be found at all costs.”

And
there may be another way.

Avenue Hoche, Paris, France

Across from the Embassy of Saudi Arabia

Dawson peered through his binoculars, the night vision mode giving
the entire area a hazy green glow. The front of the embassy was surrounded by
French police along with half a dozen camera crews though there weren’t any
protesters here, the Saudi’s not a prime target for the hatred displayed by the
Muslim population now that they were no longer blamed for the loss of their
relic—America was, and by proxy, Westerners.

“How the
hell are we getting in there?” asked Niner, lying beside him with his own
binoculars trained on the area.

Dawson
focused on the main entrance, a rather plain looking affair, the embassy
actually housed in a row of buildings, it small compared to the American
Embassy they had just been in. The CIA analyst Leroux had suggested there were
tunnels underneath the very building they were now atop, however they had to
assume any entrance to the embassy building would be monitored and most likely
heavily guarded with the current situation.

There
was no way they were getting in.

Which
meant only one thing.

“We need
to get them to come out.”

“How the
hell do we do that? Fire alarm?”

Dawson
shook his head. “No, they’d just check and confirm there was no fire. If
they’re holding someone illegally, they know damned well they have to be
careful.” He rolled to his side, fishing out his cellphone. “No, I’ve got a
better idea.” He dialed Colonel Clancy’s number.