Monster (61 page)

McDaniels looked at Mehmed silently. He had made many such decisions before in the field. His own life was already at risk, but the lives of the Nakhuda family and the lives of countless others depended on the information he could gather from al Zoubi. He knew if Reskova did not hear from him in short order this encampment would be obliterated. McDaniels released the young soldier. Mehmed rubbed circulation back into his limbs, smiling hopefully at McDaniels.

“You will trust me to help you?”

“Will they have missed you by now?”

“How long has it been since you took me?”

McDaniels looked at his watch.

“Nearly two hours.”

“I still have time.” Mehmed let McDaniels help him to his feet. “No one checks the guard in this weather.”

“When are you on duty again?” McDaniels released the clip from Mehmed’s rifle. He checked the chamber before handing it to the young soldier.

“Tomorrow at the same time - I am the low dog who must watch every night at this hellish time.” Mehmed shouldered his rifle and followed McDaniels out of the small tent. “Shall I approach the woman for you?”

Out in the howling wind, McDaniels leaned close to the young man. “Is it usual for you to talk with her?”

“No,” Mehmed admitted, hiking next to McDaniels toward the encampment.

“Then I will approach her tomorrow after you are on duty. Once I have her ready to go I will bring her to the guardhouse. You will watch over the family until I conclude my meeting with al Zoubi.”

“You will need help. Al Zoubi has three hand-picked guards with him in his compound at all times.”

“Let me worry about him. Think only of helping the woman and her sons.”

“I do not mean to offend you, Sir,” Mehmed said cautiously, “but what if you are killed?”

McDaniels chuckled. “I will write a note and give you a GPS unit. Take the family to the Iraq border following the coordinates on the GPS. You will be met there. Start out immediately after I bring them to you. I will catch up if I am able.”

“They will not kill me?”

“No. Once you activate the locator I give you, they will know right where you are. When you meet them do as they say until you can hand them the note. Tell them to wipe out the encampment. Are any of your friends in there now?”

“No, they are stationed further into my country at one of the checkpoints al Zoubi uses to filter men and supplies for the insurgency in Iraq. It is hard to believe you will trust me in so important a matter.”

“The chances of completing my mission and getting the Nakhuda family out unharmed are very small. With your help their chances are much higher. As to trust, even if you go back and betray me I will be watching your encampment. No one will get me but I will call in an air strike to get all of you. I only gave my word I would try to get Hasib’s family out.”

“You know Hasib?” Mehmed asked incredulously. “How… oh… he is in American custody. We wondered where he had been sent. Hasib is a very good soldier and has been in combat many times. Now I see how you could know about al Zoubi. Was it you who captured him?”

“I made Hasib the same deal I am making you: help me and live, betray me and die.” He took out the letter Hasib had written him and handed it to Mehmed. “Read this.”

McDaniels stopped and held his light on the plastic encased note for Mehmed to read.

“Hasib is also tired of the senseless killing,” McDaniels commented as Mehmed finished reading the letter and handed it back to McDaniels. “If we both get out of this, I will send you to an Iraqi friend of mine. A young man of your experience could be just what we need.”

“I do not wish to stay in Iraq. I would rather take my chances here.”

“My friend is already in America,” McDaniels explained. “I meant he will help you adapt. Do you speak any English?”

“Yes, I am… ah… unused to speaking it,” Mehmed said in English. “I will learn very fast.”

“You could be very helpful to me in America. There is a Syrian connection to al Qaeda we are investigating. Have you heard of anything related to that?”

“I know of the Syrians killed or captured on one of your air flights,” Mehmed offered. “Al Jazeera claimed they were innocent victims of an American secret agent the American newspapers called Cold someone… ah… yes… Cold Mountain. He viciously killed and maimed…”

McDaniels laughed when he heard the Arab network’s spin on the Syrian terrorists’ capture during the flight he and Reskova had been on. Mehmed paused, looking over at McDaniels curiously.

“Why is it that you laugh?”

“The Syrians were Terrorists, searching for weaknesses in our security. I didn’t torture anyone and only a couple died.”

“You…you are the one they call Cold Mountain?” Mehmed stared at McDaniels in disbelief.

McDaniels shrugged. “Just call me Cold. If we get back to America you will find everyone else does. Do not believe even a quarter of what my Iraqi friend tells you about me. Everything else he says you must listen carefully to, just not anything about me.”

Mehmed smiled for the first time.

“You and this Iraqi are very good friends.”

“More like brothers.” McDaniels stopped walking. “This is as far as I go. I will return tomorrow evening at exactly the same time I took you outside the guard shack. Do not bring a lot of personal items. Try and gather some water and dry food for the trip - that would be good. My supplies are dwindling so anything to make the hike out of here better for Shomari and her sons will help.”

McDaniels handed Mehmed the clip for the soldier’s AK47. He shook hands with him. “I will see you tomorrow night.”

“Yes, Cold Mountain. I will be ready.”

McDaniels watched the young man hike toward the encampment, his hand at the trigger of his own AK47. Once Mehmed was near the compound, McDaniels returned to his camp. He gathered everything together, leaving no sign anyone had been there. After hiking to the backup spot nearly three miles on the other side of the encampment, McDaniels brushed away the trail the wind did not obscure. McDaniels moved to a position where he could watch the remainder of Mehmed’s stint on guard duty. Mehmed was relieved moments before dawn. After McDaniels saw the young soldier retire within one of the barracks buildings, he returned to his own rough camp.

Chapter 43

Escape

Two hours before Mehmed was due to go on guard duty, McDaniels began the arduous approach to the encampment. McDaniels had watched Mehmed for many days, having chosen him the most likely guard to be receptive to a deal. Leading the young man into volunteering his help with subtle hints, McDaniels had been satisfied Mehmed would do as he promised. When Mehmed had not immediately betrayed him, McDaniels felt the chances of a successful mission quadrupled.

Nearly an hour passed during Mehmed’s guard duty. He walked out of the guard shack. A huge white clad figure approached him from the desert. McDaniels gestured for Mehmed to retreat back into the guard shack where the wind was not a factor. Inside the small shack, McDaniels pushed back his hood and took off his gloves. Mehmed was startled at McDaniels’ scarred, bearded visage.

“What troubles you, Mehmed?”

“You.” Mehmed took a deep breath. “I did not see you very well last night. I wish I could not see you so well now in this lamplight.”

McDaniels laughed. “Sorry for how I look. Nearly a month out in this lovely terrain and I… you know, Mehmed, I think you may have a point. If I approach Shomari and her sons looking like I do she might scream before I can say anything. Perhaps you could give her my note from Hasib and bring his family here.”

“I think that would be best, Cold Mountain. I can then prepare her more for your appearance.”

McDaniels took out the sealed Mylar enclosed note and handed it to Mehmed.

“I will watch your back the whole way. Act and move normally in case you have a few casual watchers.”

“Believe me,” Mehmed assured McDaniels, “no one is up at this hour. Better for you to worry about al Zoubi’s guards.”

“One step at a time, my young friend.” McDaniels pulled his hood back into place. “Take as much time as you like. Remind Shomari she and her sons will be trekking a long way to the border. They can only take the necessities. Can you direct her in that?”

“Yes. I will make sure they do not burden us with foolish things.”

* * *

McDaniels followed Mehmed, keeping close to the roughly hewn housings while scanning for any movement with his infrared goggles in place. Mehmed reached the door of the dwelling McDaniels had guessed was the Nakhuda family’s quarters. Mehmed knocked lightly on the door without pause. Minutes passed before a veiled figure opened the door. Mehmed was beckoned inside. Nearly half an hour later, Mehmed emerged from the building with Shomari, and her two sons in tow. They were heavily cloaked against the frigid weather. Each one carried a small bag slung over their shoulder. The woman looked around fearfully. McDaniels returned to the guard shack and waited.

Mehmed led the family inside. McDaniels smiled at the young faces looking up in awe at him.

“You…you are the one my husband wrote about… the Cold Mountain?” Shomari asked.

“Yes and soon you will be with him. Mehmed will guide you and your sons to where my men wait at the border area. I will have to remain here for a time. I will follow you all as soon as I can.”

“Mehmed says you will seek out Hafez al Zoubi. Please, leave with us. He will torture and kill you as he has done all the others.”

“If anything happens to me, Mehmed will have this note.” McDaniels handed Mehmed a hand written note with some things only Lieutenant Dominguez would know. “You will all be cared for. Hurry on now. I will give Mehmed a GPS unit to find my men on the border.”

McDaniels went over the operation of the GPS unit with Mehmed until the young man was certain he could work it. He also gave the young soldier a pair of night vision goggles and explained how to operate them.

“I’ve activated the locator chip. My men are already preparing for your arrival. Now get going.”

“Allah bless you, Cold Mountain,” Shomari whispered.

Mehmed gave McDaniels a small salute before hurrying the family out the door.

* * *

Hafez al Zoubi awoke suddenly, his breath coming in short gasps. He tried wildly to move. McDaniels lay atop the man as he had Bashar Mero not so long ago. McDaniels waited until al Zoubi stopped struggling before speaking.

“Quit moving around and I will allow you to breathe easier.”

Al Zoubi immediately ceased moving. McDaniels eased the pressure on al Zoubi’s solar plexus.

“I need you to gather some things together for me. If I like the way you do it I will take you with me alive.”

“Who… are you?” al Zoubi croaked out painfully, turning his head toward the door to his room.

“Your men will not be joining us. I am going to get off so you can begin showing me all of your files, computer drives, and everything else related to your operation. We will put them in my pack. The two of us will then leave camp.”

“Will I live if I do as you ask?”

“Yes.”

“And if I do not?”

“I will drag you out into the desert and begin breaking every bone in your body. After I have broken and smashed each bone, I will begin cutting pieces off. I can find the things I asked for by myself but it will take longer. I have time. Choose.”

The grisly calmness of McDaniels’ promised torture made al Zoubi’s hair stand up on end at the back of his neck. Al Zoubi recognized for the first time in his life he was at the mercy of a man capable of things he had himself ordered done.

“I will do as you say,” al Zoubi replied sullenly.

“You have chosen wisely.” McDaniels spread a piece of duct tape over al Zoubi’s mouth.

Flipping the Arab over as if he were a child, McDaniels lifted him from the bed. Al Zoubi turned the small lamp on near the bed. In the light, he looked around fearfully at the bearded giant standing over him for direction. McDaniels easy handling of Al Zoubi’s nearly two hundred pound bulk registered on his features.

“Get dressed,” McDaniels ordered.

By the time al Zoubi finished getting into his clothes, McDaniels had taken out a waterproof rucksack with shoulder straps from his own pack near the end of the bed. McDaniels turned the Syrian around and plastic tied his hands behind his back.

“Okay, ‘Fez.” McDaniels removed a powerful flashlight from his coat. “Lead me around to your stuff. Remember, I will go over the room quickly after you guide me. If I find you have been holding out on me our deal will be off. You will then join your men out in the desert.”

Al Zoubi nodded his understanding. Nearly forty-five minutes later, McDaniels had filled up the rucksack with papers, discs, and the notebook computer al Zoubi showed him. McDaniels grabbed the Arab by the neck while quickly checking the room again. When he was satisfied, McDaniels released al Zoubi’s hands.

“Put your coat on.” McDaniels handed him one of the parkas from al Zoubi’s room.

McDaniels slipped the rucksack onto the Arab’s shoulders after al Zoubi did as he was told. With the Arab shouldering the rucksack, McDaniels guided him outside. McDaniels saw his captive looking for sign of his men.