“I don’t know…”
“Come on. What’s he gonna do, fire you?”
“Well…”
“It will be fun. We’re supposed to be training outside all day anyway, right?”
“Yeah, got the whole day.”
“Consider this training.”
Ken came back from the tunnel with two helmets and went to his car.
“Come on you two. Nyangumi’s waiting for us.”
“Who’s Nyangumi?” Rachel asked.
“That’s the plane,” Casey said.
“Cute name for a plane.”
“It means whale.”
“Why name a plane that?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
An hour later and fifteen thousand feet higher, Rachel and Casey stood in the back of the plane putting on the wing suits and jet boots. Ken was helping them while Elijah flew the plane.
“So, this is why you named your plane whale, because it lands on water?” Rachel asked.
“She swims like a whale, and she’s shaped like one,” Ken said, “Put these helmets on.”
Casey put the helmet on and noticed it was not an ordinary helmet. There were numbers superimposed on the inside of the visor.
“This has a HUD?”
“Yes. When you’re flying, you’ll see your airspeed in the upper left. In the lower left you will see the amount of fuel left in the boots and the estimated amount of flight time based on your current speed. Change the throttle on the boots and that number will change. On your upper right is your altitude. You can change the setting for feet or meters, whatever your preference.”
“The helmets are connected to the boots?”
“Yes, something similar to Bluetooth. Avi explained it to me and it went right over my head.”
“Avi explained the whole system to you?”
“Of course. He made suits for Elijah and me. It’s quite exhilarating.”
“So, you’ve tried it?”
“Oh yes. Back home. Flew a little low and scared the hell out of some elephants. You don’t want to do that. Now attach these throttle controls to whichever wrist you prefer. Pretty simple. Up and down, on and off. Don’t turn on the boots until you’re a good hundred meters from the plane. You can get a good twenty minutes of fast flight, but just to be safe, you might want to give it ten and start making your way back to the plane.”
“We’re going to land in the plane?”
“Sure, we’ll keep the cargo ramp open. You line up and when you’re over the ramp, just stand up to check your speed and kill the throttle. It’s not that hard once you try it a couple times. Beats having to land and pick you up. The helmets have comms, just in case you need to have a chat. Remember, legs and arms apart and glide 100 meters from the plane before you throttle up.”
Ken pushed a button and opened the cargo ramp. Rachel wasted no time and was out of the plane in an instant. Casey, unwilling to show his nerves in front of a woman, was right on her heels. He spread his legs and arms out and glided for a moment before stealing a glance behind. In no time at all they had gone more than 100 meters from the plane. Rachel’s voice came in his ear.
“I’m about to throttle up. Make sure you’re not behind me.”
Casey angled his body and got a hang of how to steer, banking left and then right a couple times before positioning himself to her left. Rachel tried a couple turns before stealing a glance his way and rocketing ahead. Casey throttled up and felt a sudden rush as he accelerated to 100 mph in no time. Rachel was still pulling ahead of him and he increased his throttle to keep up. By the time he made any noticeable gain he was nearing 200 mph.
“Come on girl, let me catch up.”
“Woo, this is fun. How fast do you think we can go?”
“I don’t know. I’m hitting 200 right now and I don’t even think we’re at full throttle.”
“Only one way to find out.”
She shot ahead and Casey throttled up to catch her, hitting 225 at full throttle.
“Take a look at your flight time at this speed. Think we should slow it down a bit?”
“Whoa, you’re right.”
They showed down to 180 mph and the remaining flight time increased appreciably.
“That seems to be the sweet spot,” Casey said.
“It’s quite beautiful up here. Are those all farms?” she asked, looking down at the patchwork quilt fifteen thousand feet below them.
“That’s all you have this far from the city.”
“But we’re not that far from the city.”
“That’s what I like about this area. You don’t have to get that far out to get out.”
“I wish we had more fuel. I’d like to stay out here longer.”
“We still have a few minutes, but maybe we’d best stay close to the plane.”
They banked around and spotted the plane, a small speck quite far away.
“Wow, I guess we covered some ground.”
“You guys gonna start heading back soon?” Ken said in their ears.
“Headed your way. You got the door open?”
“Ready when you get here.”
When they got close to the plane, Casey came in too low on his first attempt and had to peel away and circle around for another attempt. Rachel came in too high and had to do the same.
“I think the best angle is just above the plane, kill the throttle, and glide down a bit,” Casey said.
He did just that, coming in slightly above the plane, killing the throttle, and angling his body slightly downward so he glided right onto the ramp, pulling up and walking right into the plane, followed a few seconds later by Rachel.
Rachel removed her helmet and shook her shoulder- length hair loose.
“That was the most fun I have had in…longer than I can remember. Thank you.”
“How fast did you get up to?” Ken asked.
“225 at level flight,” Casey said.
“Avi told me it could hit 180. I never went above 150.”
“You chicken?”
“No, older. You get cautious when you get to be my age.”
“I’ve seen you in action. You’re not that cautious for an old dude.”
“I don’t take any chances I don’t have to.”
26
Tariq Ansari had comfortable enough quarters. He was fed well enough and allowed supervised exercise in the gym when he wanted it, which was not that often. He had little reason to complain. He could hardly blame the Americans for holding him, and that much he was sure of, that he was being held in America. He knew little else, nothing of where he was being kept or who was keeping him. He didn’t think it was CIA. These people seemed…what was it…more amateurish? He couldn’t put a finger on it. They seemed competent, especially the Jew, but they had something of the air of outsiders.
The young Muslims were agreeable enough. At least he could converse with them well enough and they claimed to share his faith, even though they worked with the Americans. One of them was approaching his room at the moment.
“Hello Mr. Ansari. I brought you something,” Ahmed said in Arabic as he entered the room.
Ahmed handed Tariq a Quran and a rolled- up prayer rug.
“East is that way,” he said, pointing toward the wall his cot was against.
“Thank you, young man.”
“I wanted to apologize for being so harsh with you the other day, but you must understand where we are coming from.”
“I understand that you work with infidels.”
“Yes, I forgot, you still view America as a Christian nation. You should stick around here longer.”
“It is not a Muslim nation either.”
“No, it isn’t, and that’s the beauty of it. I am free to be a Muslim here and my co-workers are free to be Christians, or whatever they choose to be. America doesn’t force people to be one or the other. Just in this building we have Christians, Muslims, and a Jew, but we all work toward a common goal.”
&n
bsp; “A common goal to serve a godless country?”
“No, to serve a country that allows her people to worship as they please. That is liberty, and I will do whatever I can to protect that liberty.”
“You would put that country ahead of Allah.”
“No, I serve Allah by protecting the rights of the people of this country to worship Allah if they wish, or to follow another path if it suits them. If I were you, I would take a hard look at what God I serve. Is it Allah, or yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“You call yourself a good Muslim and say you serve Allah, but you really serve yourself. You sold out. You were willing to let a madman murder thousands, maybe millions, for what end? So, you could live large for however many years you have left? Are you sure you serve Allah?”
“I have always been a good Muslim.”
“If you are the measure of a good Muslim, then I am ashamed to call myself one.”
“Maybe you are the one who is not a good Muslim, you and that girl you work with who flaunts her uncovered self around here for all to see.”
“If your version of Islam is the standard, then maybe we fall short, but that’s not a religion I want to follow. I can’t believe that the God I serve would delight in killing the innocent, even those who don’t follow him. I suggest you read that Quran and tell me what you do with all the verses that condemn murdering innocent people. Then come back to me and try to justify what you did.”
“I don’t have to justify anything to someone who…”
“You’re right. You don’t have to justify anything to me. I’m not Allah. You might want to talk to him about that.”
Ahmed sat down at his desk as Miriam was approaching with two cups.
“Care for some tea?” she asked.
“I would love some, especially after talking with our friend in there.”
“Why do you even try?”
“I don’t know. He’s a fellow Muslim.”
“He’s a terrorist.”
“Well, not quite.”
“He sold them a bomb. That’s close enough.”
“All I did was take him a Quran and a rug.”
“How did that go?”
“I don’t know. He still thinks we’re not true Muslims. Maybe he’ll read the Quran and see where he’s wrong.”
“You are too hopeful. His kind have been reading it for centuries and what good has it done them? We each see what we want to see there.”
“Surely the Quran condemns murdering innocent people.”
“Sure, there are verses that say that, and verses that incite violence as well.”
“Now you sound like some of the Christians.”
“I have a lot of Christian friends. You must have known a few at college.”
“I knew more atheists than Christians, but one guy told me he thought the Quran was all about killing infidels. That’s what he had been taught.”
“What do you think?”
“Many of my family think like that. That’s what I grew up with, but I never really bought into it. I kept my mouth shut at home. It wasn’t until I came here that I met other Muslims like me. How about you?”
“I grew up here. We don't have any radicals in my family.”
“Ansari told me that his type are the real Muslims and you and I are not much better than infidels.”
“What do you think of that?”
“I’m not sure. Why are you a Muslim?”
“Never really given it much thought. I was born one, I guess.”
“Exactly. Same with me. The more I think about it, I’ve never been anything else. You hear Christians talk about a time they decided to follow that path, but how many of our people say things like that? It’s part of the culture. You’re born a Muslim and you have no choice. I’ve never heard anyone say he came to believe in Allah or that it was even important to make a personal decision. You’re a Muslim because you just are, because your parents were. I feel like I’m just going through the motions.”
“I’ve felt the same way sometimes. I won’t admit it to anyone. I envy the Christians who say they chose to believe and have reasons for it other than being born into it.”
“A lot of the Christians believe it because they were raised that way.”
“I guess, but to them it’s important to decide for yourself. That’s what their preachers say.”
“I’ve heard that from some, but there are still many who are Christians the same way we’re Muslims, by birth. I want to follow Allah because I believe him and trust him, not just because I was born that way and I’m supposed to. Say, what’s that on your screen?”
“Oh, I had an audio file decrypting. Looks like it’s done.”
“What’s on it?”
“Not sure yet. The computer flagged it, highly encrypted phone conversation, one party in Langley. I thought it would be worth a listen.”
“Well, let’s hear it.”
Miriam played the decrypted file and they listened carefully. Even though the file was decrypted, the voices were still highly masked so it was difficult to tell if the speakers were male or female.
“Wow, did I hear that correctly?” Ahmed asked.
“Sounds like the mole. I wish the voices were clearer.”
“You think we can clean them up and see if they can be identified?”
“I don’t know. The encryption was good. What about that part about a diversion? Now that we know it’s coming, do you think it will be a legit attack?”
“Sounds like it, so if we don’t act on it, people could die, but if we go after that lead and miss the bomb, more people could die. Jenny needs to hear this.”
He called Jenny and when she came over, Miriam replayed the audio.
“Wow, sounds like a mole alright. I wonder who the other party is.”
“No idea. We don’t even know where the call originated from,” Miriam said.
“But you’re sure it was answered in Langley?”
“Pretty sure. The computer flagged it and alerted me, and the encryption was very good. Took all morning to decrypt it, and the voices are still distorted.”
“You think you can clean up the voices?”
“I really don’t know. We can try.”
“So, they suspect we have someone in the field.”
“And from the sound of it, they know we only have one person.”
“But do we only have one?”
“Just Casey, right?”
“Officially, yes, but we still have Avi’s African friends around until they decide to go home, and I doubt that I’ll be able to keep Rachel at a desk for long. In fact, that decision might have been forced on us. We’re going to need Casey to intercept the bomb and we’re going to need to answer whatever threat comes up at that time. Rachel will get her wish sooner than later it seems. Good job with that file. If you find anything else, or if you get the voices cleaned up, let me know.”
Jenny went through the tunnel and emerged at the tactical range to find Casey and Rachel being dressed down by Avi.
“All you had to do was ask. How did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“But Ken said…” Casey started to say.
“I’ve already spoken to Ken. He’s always been a sucker for a pretty face.”
The pretty face was staring at the ground.
“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” Avi asked.
“I…don’t know…sorry?”
“How about you, Casey?”
“Sorry. Rachel…”
“Don’t go there, son. That excuse didn’t work for Adam and it won’t work for you.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Listen up, you two. I’m not so upset that you took the suits out. I was planning on doing that anyway. What I don’t like is the sneaky way you went about it. We have to run a tight ship around here. The work we’re doing is serious, so we have to do things properly. Jenny is in charge here and she’s left me in charge of certain thi
ngs. As field agents, you report to me. I am responsible for your training…”
“Agents? Did you say agents…as in more than one?” Rachel said.
“That’s what I was wanting to talk to you about,” Jenny said to Avi.
“I figured as much. I knew you weren’t going to keep this one behind a desk.”
“Now that we have that out of the way, I’ll leave you to carry on.”
“Is there a reason you came out here to tell me that?”
“Yes. We may well be in need of more agents sooner than later. I trust you to get them both as ready as possible as fast as possible.”
Jenny turned and went back inside.
“Well, you heard the boss,” Avi said.
Hasan Khalid stood on the deck of the Qadira and looked over the stern rail at the wake trailing behind. For one raised far from the water, the ocean was still a new experience and despite the numerous times he had been to sea, he never tired of it. This journey would be different than the others. If all went as planned, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t, there would be glory at the end of it. The United States would pay dearly and he would have his revenge. It wouldn’t bring his family back, but at least the score would be settled. He had spent the last decade trying to settle the score, but it was never enough. Now it would be different.
He started small. It didn’t take much to plant an IED and take out a few soldiers at a time, and there was no shortage of volunteers willing to do the dirty work. He made a name for himself in Iraq and soon his services were in demand in other areas, and with some of these jobs came lucrative payments. He never questioned anything, as long as the target was Western, and he used the money to fund bigger attacks and to set aside a comfortable nest egg for when the time came to disappear.
He suspected that his benefactors were well- organized and well- funded, and were no friends of America. The contracts were better paying and he was given detailed intel on the targets. Sometimes information would fall into his lap or he would have access to a good deal of hardware at extremely low prices and he wondered if there wasn’t a larger organization, perhaps a government, that shared his goals. It was the same way with the people he used to carry out attacks. He gave them enough intel and adequate equipment and in turn they carried out his wishes. If he was enjoying the benefits of a similar relationship, it was fine with him. It allowed him to do what he was good at and his bank account grew accordingly.
Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1) Page 20
