Monster (60 page)

“You’re right, Jed.” Dominguez peered closer at McDaniels. “He looks even worse than last time though. See, this is why fraternization is frowned on in the military, especially at your level, Sir.”

“If you two turds don’t shut up,” McDaniels growled warningly as the Marines shared a laugh at his expense, “the next time you get to use my satellite setup to call home will be when your kids are out of college.”

“We’re just trying to look out for you, Sir,” Dominguez protested, still reigning in laughter. “It’s a wonder you don’t get killed stumbling around out there like a lovesick puppy dog.”

“Yeah, Colonel,” Bocelli chimed in. “You already look like Osama or that scarred up Mullah he used to hang out with. You’re lucky we don’t shoot you by mistake.”

“It sounds like some Marines I know need another lesson in surprise,” McDaniels pondered out loud, rubbing his bearded chin.

“C’mon now, Colonel.” Dominguez tone turned suddenly serious. “Jed was just kiddin’ around. Right, Jed?”

“You bet.” Bocelli held up a hand in a placating manner to McDaniels. “You promised you wouldn’t pull that Apache shit on us no more. Someone’s going to get hurt if you keep ghosting in on us like that.”

“I might be willing to trade.” McDaniels continued to pose thoughtfully.

“Okay, okay,” Dominguez replied, getting a nod from Bocelli, “no more needling you about AD Reskova.”

“Very well then, young Jedi, let’s get the squad back somewhere warm and go over what I managed to film tonight.”

Inside the small compound, only miles from the Syrian border, McDaniels finished showing Lieutenant Dominguez and Sergeant Bocelli the terrain nearly five miles within the Syrian side of the border. McDaniels then went over the route again on his field laptop he planned using to extract Hasib Nakuda’s family if he found them.

“You guys will have the laptop. I can’t take it with me this trip in. Anybody sees me hiking around out there with anything more high tech than the AK47 and I’ll be screwed. I can ditch the small digital stuff pretty easy.”

“How far in is the camp this guy has set up, Colonel? You haven’t told us anything except where you might pop up,” Dominguez said. “What if…”

“Reskova has all the data back home,” McDaniels cut in. “If they don’t hear from me after a month, there’s going to be an accidental Stealth bombing. As you can see on the map, the site is almost in a direct line between Mosul and Al Hassakah. You guys only have to worry about covering the border at the spot I showed you tonight. I’ll turn on the locator when I’m within range of the border. Until then I’ll be out of contact.”

“A month though, Colonel?” Bocelli stared at McDaniels doubtfully. “Why not do the Stealth accident and then tell Nakuda you couldn’t find his family? This sounds more like a suicide mission every second.”

McDaniels grinned at the young Sergeant. “You’re getting pretty callous, Jed. If I can get to this guy al Zoubi, he might have a hard drive I can latch onto with his whole network on it. I need intel when I get close. Nakuda’s wife could provide me with what I need.”

“Or she might write off her husband and turn you in,” Dominguez pointed out. “I know what you can do, Colonel, but you ain’t some super hero. Big as you are, they’ll pick you out in that place before you can contact anybody.”

“I don’t plan on singing campfire songs with them, Abe. I’ve already outfitted a few spots near the training site with everything I’ll need. What do you think I’ve been doing these past weeks? I have my eye on one of the young guards. This weather is hell to stand guard duty in. For me, it’s a Godsend. I’ve come within five hundred yards of the place. They’re hunkering down at night like they think they’re at a boy-scout camp.”

“I get that, Sir,” Dominguez acknowledged before going on. “You still have to find Nakuda’s wife, make contact, and then locate al Zoubi. I…”

“What is it with you two?” McDaniels broke in. “We’ve been over the plans for this a hundred times. You guys have been traipsing around this barren toilet for weeks. It’s sweet you’re worried about me, girls, but this is what we do. Now, are there any questions about the mission?”

“No Sir!” The two Marines said in chorus.

“Good, now who has a small portable DVD player I can take with me?”

* * *

“Have you heard from Cold?” Rutledge asked. Reskova had finished briefing them concerning on-going surveillance of the Mero cell.

Reskova shook her head negatively as she gathered her PDA and briefcase up.

Barrington, Rutledge, Donaldson, and Rasheed exchanged worried glances, with Rasheed giving Rutledge head nods to keep asking.

“I know this is like root canal surgery to talk about, but…”

“It’s not that, Jen,” Reskova interrupted, pausing to look around at the group. “I know how much you all care about him. I flat out don’t know. Cold’s on mission. He can’t communicate again until he’s on his way out or he needs to call in an air strike. Believe me, I trust you all implicitly. If I knew more, you’d know more.”

“On a different matter, no one has contacted Nancy yet,” Donaldson said. “I was wondering if…”

“No, she can’t take off on pregnancy leave, Pete.” Reskova smiled as Donaldson’s co-workers started laughing.

“I…I meant,” Donaldson stammered uncomfortably, “do you want the round the clock surveillance called off for the time being?”

“Yes, Boss, it is getting extremely uncomfortable for the newbie to make babies in the bathroom out of earshot,” Rasheed said, evoking renewed laughter and a one finger salute from Donaldson.

“You’re right, Pete. We could use those resources elsewhere. Good point.”

“What about the Russians, Diane?” Barrington asked.

“The Director told me to hand that one over to the police. We believe the Arab connection was severed after the warehouse roundup. This Romanko character appears to be just another gangster. Aginson thinks it would be best to let the police department’s organized crime unit handle him. Romando’s second in command, Mikhail Kojovich, is the one we suspect killed that Alexi guy. It has all the markings of a mob power struggle.”

  “Why do we not just exterminate these…” Rasheed began, only to shut up when he saw Reskova’s irritated look.

“We’ve been over… never mind. We don’t do that, Kay, and you know it. This is not a police state. Romanko’s a naturalized citizen. It’s time for you to stop thinking in those terms unless you can think of a way to get Cold back here. Then we can copy our last Fort Marcy Park black op.”

Reskova’s sudden callous statement concerning the deaths of four Russian gang members after meeting with Tomashevsky in Fort Marcy Park caused another outburst of appreciative laughter. Rasheed nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Now that is what I’m talking about. Pete and I can handle this bunch, Boss. Get the devil dog and set up the meeting.”

“Dino’s retired. I have to bribe him to go on walks since Cold left.”

“You should be more careful with the walking out in the open business, Diane,” Barrington warned. “We still aren’t sure you’re not a target.”

“If someone wants me dead bad enough, I’ll be dead. You all know that. I take all the precautions I can but I’m not going into hiding. Even Cold couldn’t protect me against a sniper.”

* * *

The bearded soldier looked bleary-eyed into the gusting wind. He scanned the bleak, icy landscape beyond the encampment with anger. His hands gripped the AK47 rifle in almost a choking manner for a moment, the tips of his gloved fingers already numb from the cold after only an hour and a half on watch. The constant howling of the wind droned on in his brain monotonously. It added to the rage he felt over forced hours of guard duty in a place where the soldier believed no creature on earth would venture anyway.

The soldier shouldered his rifle. He turned toward the small guard dwelling as a huge apparition rose up out of the landscape behind him. The soldier felt a stabbing sensation at his neck. A split second later his mouth was engulfed by a gloved hand and his rifle clamped to his side as he struggled. In seconds, the soldier lay unconscious at McDaniels’ feet. McDaniels crouched again, using his night vision scope to go over the dwellings nearby for anyone out in the open. Confident he had not been seen McDaniels shouldered the fallen soldier’s body and retreated into the relentless storm.

Groaning loudly and shivering violently, the soldier opened his eyes to small slits. He lay within some form of tent where at least he could not feel the wind. Trying to move, the man felt the restraints holding his arms tied behind him to his bound feet, making it impossible to do anything but roll slightly to either side.

“Lie still,” McDaniels ordered gruffly in Arabic. “What is your name?”

It was then the startled soldier noticed a darkened outline of someone huge sitting cross-legged just above his head.

“Meh…Mehmed Ahmadi. My friends will…”

“Your friends will find you have disappeared,” McDaniels cut him off. “You are two miles from your camp. I have a drawing of your encampment. You will point out where the Nakhuda family is and where I can find Hafez al Zoubi.”

“I will tell you nothing,” Mehmed stated.

A split second later Mehmed screamed in pain. McDaniels clamped the man’s whole groin area in one hand. McDaniels shook the man unmercifully as the soldier shrieked. McDaniels finally paused.

“You will tell me or I will cut your dick off one inch at a time,” McDaniels whispered in Mehmed’s ear, “and cauterize the remainder each time with a torch.”

“You…you will kill me anyway,” Mehmed protested. “What can…”

“We might be able to work something out if you are useful,” McDaniels offered. “If you lie to me or refuse to talk, you will pray to Allah for death before I get through with you.”

McDaniels took a map-sized paper out of his inside coat pocket, spreading it so Mehmed could see it. With his small Maglite, McDaniels illuminated the detailed drawing of the buildings within the compound.

“I have seen a woman with two young sons in three different places. This looks like her dwelling here. Is it?”

“How… how did you get this drawing?”

“I’ve been drawing it little by little while I checked out your camp. Here are the pictures I’ve taken.”

McDaniels put a digital camera memory chip into his small portable viewer. He showed the pictures to Mehmed. McDaniels pointed to a woman carrying a bundle into one of the buildings.

“Is that the Nakhuda woman?”

“You would have had to be inside the camp to take this.” Mehmed glanced up at McDaniels doubtfully.

“Is that the woman?”

“Yes, it is Shomari.”

McDaniels pointed out a structure. “Is this where she and her sons sleep?”

“Yes.”

McDaniels took out a silvery emergency blanket and spread it over Mehmed, tucking it in around him. Moments later the young soldier was able to quit shivering. In addition to the blurry satellite photo of al Zoubi, McDaniels showed Mehmed drawings of a man fitting Hasib Nakhuda’s description of al Zoubi and the place McDaniels figured al Zoubi stayed.

Mehmed’s startled look was almost enough for McDaniels. When the young soldier stayed silent McDaniels nudged him with his hand.

“Do not stop now, my young friend,” McDaniels urged gently. “Confirm what I have, and then I will confirm what you have told me.”

“I am dead either way,” Mehmed said dejectedly. “This is too big for you to let me live. No one has been able to get so near al Zoubi before, at least not a stranger. He will kill me and every friend I have ever known if I betray him.”

“I will make you a deal. There will be no more talk of torture. When I get the Nakhuda family safely to the Iraqi border, I will set you free there. If we are all alive, you may choose which way you wish to go, back to Syria or into American custody. Al Zoubi will be dead or a captive. That you can be sure of.”

Hope surged into Mehmed’s features.

“You…you are an American? You would take me to America?” Mehmed asked with such uplifted spirits McDaniels laughed.

“I thought you were a hard core Jihadist, young Mehmed. You would give up your way of life so easily?”

“It is a living death,” Mehmed stated in a whisper. “We are sent to die at a whim. Our families, like the Nakhuda’s, are held hostage against betrayal. I am alone now. My family is dead. All I have left are a few friends who have survived these past few years.”

“How old are you?”

“I am twenty years old,” Mehmed lied.

McDaniels guessed the youth’s age to be five years older in spite of the actual truth.

“I cannot free you. I will take you with me when we go,” McDaniels promised. “You remind me of another young one I knew in Iraq. For that reason if you speak the truth and help me take the woman and her sons out of here I will send you to America.”

“You…you would not joke with me about something like that?” Mehmed asked, unable to believe such a thing could happen. “It is not easy to think of escaping this living hell.”

“You have my word. That is all I can give you.”

“Then trust me to help you. Let me return to my post before they find me gone,” Mehmed urged, twisting to look up at McDaniels from a closer position. “I would die to achieve what you have promised. If I can increase my chances by helping you I do not care if I die trying. At least I will have given my life for something.”