Flags of The Forgoten

by Stallcup, Heath

  “How will I contact you?”

  “Trust me, I’ll contact you when the time comes. It won’t be by phone.” Bobby thought for a moment then added, “There’s plenty of food, weapons and ammo there. Don’t be afraid of the white whale. Everything you need to know is there.”

  Roger listened carefully and nodded to himself. “I think I follow.”

  “You’d better. It can save your life if it comes down to it.”

  “I’m turning around now. Stay safe, Bridger.”

  “You, too. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Roger closed the phone and wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. He considered ignoring his friend’s offer and continuing toward Omaha. He sighed as he pulled his phone back out and called the office. He would leave a message and pray that he’d still have a job when all of this was over.

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  RYAN TAPPED THE steering wheel while the pair waited. “If we had the drone we could switch to microwave and see what he was doing.”

  “Will you please shut the hell up about the goddam drone?” Marcus pushed back in his seat and tried to glare out the tinted window toward the opulent house that al-Abadi had entered. He clenched his jaw and waited for the next piece of opinionated drivel that Ryan could think of to complain about.

  “I was just saying.” Ryan leaned back in his seat and continued to watch the car that had delivered their subject. He suddenly sat up and pointed with his chin. “They’re getting ready to go.”

  Marcus glanced at the Rover and noted the taillights glow. The reverse lights flashed as the driver engaged the transmission and held the car with the brake. The passenger door opened and a large man in a dark grey suit stepped out and opened the rear door of the vehicle. Muhammed al-Abadi appeared and stepped into the car. The large man quickly shut his door, glanced about the area then slid back into his own seat. The Rover pulled forward and Ryan waited to see if they would turn around and head back the way they had come. His patience paid off. He put on the turn signal and pulled slowly into traffic, allowing al-Abadi’s driver to pass him.

  “Wanna bet they’re headed back to town?”

  Ryan shook his head. “Nope. I’m a sucker for a good bet, but I want a chance at winning.” He bumped Marcus with his elbow. “Let Jay know the target is returning.”

  Marcus tapped the recall button and waited. He informed Jay that the target was on the move again. He nodded at the man’s reply then snapped his phone shut. “If we get the opportunity, we pick him up.” Marcus waved a finger under Ryan’s nose. “No extra chances. He says we can snag him off the street at the demonstration if we have to.”

  “Yes mom.” Ryan slumped in his seat and watched as the Rover continually changed lanes, inching farther ahead of them with each mile. “I could maybe ‘kiss’ his bumper. When they stop, we just—”

  “Negative.” Marcus continued to stare at the ass end of the black Range Rover. “He’s got at least two armed guards with him. Something tells me they’re the type to come out shooting.”

  Ryan gave him a look that Marcus missed. “You still got a trigger finger, dontcha?”

  Marcus sighed and shook his head. “We’re not going to snag him off the highway. Watch the road.”

  The pair followed the black SUV back into town and watched as they pulled into a parking structure. “The eagle has landed.” Marcus groaned as Ryan pulled their vehicle farther up the block and put it into park.

  “You don’t reckon they made us and are escaping through a back exit?”

  Marcus shook his head. “His driver is an idiot. He would have tried to make a run for it if he really thought they were being followed.” He sighed and slumped in his seat. “No, they have no clue we’re out here.”

  Ryan sighed and followed suit. He settled in and locked his eyes on the side mirror, watching the front of the building. “Too bad we don’t have a drone. We could—”

  He barely was able to duck the swing that Marcus launched from the passenger seat.

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  BRIDGER WANTED TO throw the phone against the wall but reached for the liquor cabinet instead. He poured a stiff double and tossed it back neat.

  “Problem?” Steve Gibbons asked as he slid in behind his desk. He began rifling through a drawer and glanced to Bobby for an answer.

  “It’s like everything is coming apart at the seams.” He reached for the bottle again and poured another whiskey.

  “How so?”

  “Roger is feeling the heat. I’m guessing that there’s a wetwork team in play and he’s scared.” Bobby tossed the drink back then forced the lid onto the bottle. “I sent him to my place.”

  Steve stiffened and glanced at Jim. “Don’t you keep your place booby-trapped?”

  Bobby nodded at Jim. “Yeah, but they’re disarmed. I gave him a…reference…on where to look for instructions on that.”

  “A reference?” Jim’s curiosity was piqued. “How so?”

  “I keep a small bookshelf of classics. Moby Dick is blank. Just a cover. Inside is the layout to my traps, the alarms, where I squirreled away weapons and ammo. That sort of crap. As long as Roger can get there alive, the stuff I left behind can help him stay that way.”

  Deric sat his coffee down and nodded to Jay. “We could charter him out of there, couldn’t we?”

  “And what? Bring him here? Do you really think it would be any safer for him? Hell, then we’d all be compromised,” Jay said quietly.

  “He’s a field agent,” Bobby added matter of factly, “not an operator.”

  “So keep him safe at your place. At least until they try to act.” Jay added, “Then we can bring him here if we need to and squirrel him away some place safe until this has blown over.”

  Bobby exhaled hard, his eyes pinched shut. “Not the best of plans, but the only one we have at the moment.” He reached for his phone and punched in the number for Sheriff Evans. It was time to call in a favor.

  Langley, VA

  * * *

  DARREN CHESTERFIELD FELT the smile creep across his thin features and he hit the button to print what was painted across his screen. “Gotcha. You sons of bitches can run, but you can’t hide.”

  He snatched up the printed sheets and picked up his phone.

  “Nelson.”

  “Colonel, I have the mercs that Bridger is running with.”

  “Don’t make me ask, son. Spill it.”

  “Jay Wolf, Deric Bundy, James McDougall, Gregg Soares, Steve Gibbons and Viktor Teplov.”

  “Why do those names sound familiar?”

  “Contractors, sir. They’re contractors for us. We’ve used them, along with Bridger, on a host of different operations.” Agent Chesterfield felt like giggling. It had been harder than usual to use facial recognition on the people in the video because most of their data had been scrubbed from the systems. The Company couldn’t risk having their contractors tracked using their own means.

  Colonel Nelson was quiet on the other end and Darren had to increase the volume on his phone to hear him breathing on the line. “Sir? Isn’t this good news?”

  He could almost hear Colonel Nelson shaking his head. “No, Agent Chesterfield, it isn’t.”

  Darren glanced at the printouts then back to his phone. “But, sir…we have them. They’re all culpable and—”

  “Come to my office now,” Nelson barked. “And destroy any hard copies you may have made.”

  Darren nodded as he reached for the phone. “Yes, sir. On my way now.” He punched the end call button and glanced at the shredder beside his desk. He stared at the dossiers he had printed out and hesitated. So much information to feed to a shredder…reluctantly, he placed them into a file and dropped it into his desk.

  He grabbed his coat from the hook on the wall and flipped the lock as he pulled the door shut behind him.

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  MAMOON SMILED AT the stack
of newly minted flags. Sameer said nothing as his hand caressed the larger than normal wad of bills in his pocket.

  “So many just to burn.” Balil almost sounded sad as he stared at the stack of Western nation flags waiting to be torched by an ugly mob. He shook his head as he imagined the protesters, the majority of which were paid to act angry in their demonstrations.

  “They are beautiful.” Mamoon lifted the top flag and held it up. “They could hang from the White House itself.”

  Sameer rolled his eyes. “They are screened!” he spat. “No beauty to that.”

  Mamoon placed the flag back atop the stack and patted his friend and employee on the shoulder. “And as I have told you, we will only screen the larger orders. We still need your skills.”

  Sameer grunted as he reached for a box to package the flags. “They will be here shortly to pick these up. We should have them ready.”

  Tariq stepped forward and began pulling the flags three and four at a time and folding them neatly in the middle before stacking them in the cardboard box. “Perhaps we can sell the smaller flags to the crowd?”

  “That is the idea, Tariq.” Mamoon picked up the smaller, twelve inch flags and waved them about. “These are perfect for children and maybe even the women to destroy.”

  Tariq smiled as he imagined the number of happy customers they would have, effectively putting Mamoon-ur-Rasheed and his shop on the map with the locals once more. “Perhaps we can expand our services? T-shirts, possibly?”

  Sameer groaned at the idea and turned away from the young boy. The action was not missed by Mamoon. “Perhaps one day, but for now, we stick with what we know.”

  11

  Bridger’s Residence, Wood County, TX

  * * *

  ROGER RAN HIS finger along the hand drawn plans he discovered in the copy of Moby Dick. He saw where the different traps were located on the property and he assumed that he was supposed to activate them to keep himself safe. He pulled open the door, the book nestled under his arm, when he heard the telltale crunch of gravel under a car tire. He jumped back inside and shut the door. Crouching low, he duck-walked to the closest window and pulled the sheer curtain back a bit. He saw the familiar green and white markings of the local Sheriff’s office.

  Roger slid to the ground, his back to the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth. If I were going to assassinate somebody and wanted to get away clean, I’d disguise myself as a cop, too.

  He heard the light knock at the door and reluctantly pulled his weapon from its holster. He got to his feet and focused on the front sight of the weapon.

  “Hello?” Another knock. “This is Sheriff Evans of the Wood County Sheriff’s Office.” Roger watched as the knob turned slowly and the door pushed open. “Is there an agent Wallace here? Bobby Bridger sent me to give you a message.”

  Roger stepped into view, his weapon pointed at the man standing in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry Sheriff, but I need to see your ID.”

  Sheriff Evans held his hands up and nodded slowly. “Easy there, son. Let’s not do anything hasty.”

  Roger exhaled and forced his shoulders to relax, but kept the weapon trained on the lawman before him. “Sorry, sir. But there are bad people after me and—”

  “Bobby mentioned that.” He stepped into the earthen dwelling that Bridger called home. He reached up slowly and removed his sunglasses. “He wants you to make a run to the airport. They have a plane waiting for you.”

  Roger hiked a brow and gave him a questioning look. “And just where the hell am I supposed to be going?”

  Sheriff Evans cleared his throat and gave him a weak smile. “I’m pretty sure he said that they’re in Pakistan. But it wasn’t the best connection so maybe not.”

  Roger lowered his weapon slightly and stared at the man, his mouth hanging. “Did you say Pakistan?”

  The large man nodded. “I’d suggest you pack for warm weather.” He motioned toward the window. “Bobby asked me to drive you to the airport.”

  Roger lowered his weapon and nodded. “What the hell. I’m sure in Bridger’s mind, it’s right on the way to Omaha.”

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  “SCOTT HAS HIM.” Bridger lowered the phone to the receiver and seemed to visibly relax. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”

  “Until he gets here,” Jay mumbled absently. “We’ve verified al-Abadi has returned to the city.”

  Steve looked up from the stack of paperwork scattered across his desk. “Where did he go? One of his suppliers?”

  Jay turned to Gregg who held a finger up. “The address returns to…Kashif Abu Faqir. Deceased.”

  “Why would he visit a dead man?” Deric asked.

  “Any relatives still kicking?” Bobby asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

  “No sons. No daughters. One widow, Asma Abu Faqir.” Gregg shook his head. “There’s little to nothing about her.”

  Jay stood and stretched. “So, maybe he’s courting this widow for her money or he’s just visiting a sick friend. I don’t care either way. al-Abadi is the target here. We need to stay focused.”

  “Agreed.” Deric stood and pulled down the map for the city. “From what we can tell, the demonstration is supposed to start in or near Baloch Park.” He tapped the page to indicate the location. “The protestors are then supposed to march up M.A. Jinnah towards the Rambagh Quarter. The whole road will be shut down and they’re expecting a ton of people. They’ve been advertising and hiring people to make this one of the largest Western protests ever.”

  “Fuck me,” Jay spat. “We’re going to have to grab him before he gets into the crowd.”

  “We should grab him when he leaves his house,” Bobby stated flatly. “There will be too many people around to just grab and run once he hits the Bazaar.”

  Gregg nodded. “Those streets will be packed. Our best bet is what Bobby said. Otherwise we’ll never get through the crowds.”

  Deric chewed at his inner cheek then turned and gave Jay a grin. “We can pull a Dixie shuffle on them.”

  Bobby raised a brow. “Too risky.”

  “If we can find out what he plans to wear, it would be easy.” Deric grinned wider. “Can you imagine their faces when they grab him and realize it’s the wrong guy?”

  “We take out the guards,” Jay stated flatly. “Too many variables not to.” He lowered his eyes and sighed. “I really hoped to do this without casualties, but if we’re going to grab him in broad daylight, we’re going to have to remove all threats.”

  “This has to be clean.” Bobby stood and marched to the map. “He’s got fourteen blocks from his house to the park. If we try to disable the car and take him, innocents are likely to get hurt.”

  “Then we take him from his home,” Jay answered softly. “We don’t wait for him to get to his little protest.”

  Jim had sat and listened to the back and forth without saying much. He finally stood and shook his head. “You boys are making this too complicated. It’s a simple snatch and grab.” He pointed to Gregg. “Dig up one of your disablers for his car. Deric and I can install it once the sun is down and we can choose the least crowded spot once he leaves.”

  “Can you be in and out unseen?” Bobby asked.

  Jim gave him a smirk. “Please. We’ve been playing this game full time since you retired. I could be in and out of your bedroom while you were servicing your lady friend and you’d never miss a stroke.”

  “Let’s hope his guards are servicing their lady friends, then.” Bobby nodded to Jay. “Sounds as good as anything else I’ve heard.”

  Jay stared at Jim for a moment then turned to Gregg. “Get them an engine cutout.” He pointed to Deric. “Be sure you are in and out. No witnesses.”

  Deric stood and reached for his jacket. “We’ll wait until it’s dark. No worries, boss.”

  Langley, VA

  * * *

  “I DON’T THINK you fully comprehend who we’
re messing with here.” Colonel Nelson pulled a thick dossier from his personal files and handed it to Agent Chesterfield. “These are the ‘mercs’ you listed on the phone.”

  Darren lifted the thick file and browsed through it. “Okay. So we’ve used them a time or two.” He gave the colonel a shrug. “It’s not like there aren’t more contractors we can use. We burn these guys along with Bridger and call it a night.”

  Colonel Nelson snatched the file back from the man and slammed it on his desk. “I don’t think you’re getting the seriousness of this fuck up.” His teeth were clenched and Darren took a half step back.

  “Enlighten me, please.” His eyes probed the colonel and he watched as the man pinched at the bridge of his nose, his mind racing to find the right words.

  “These aren’t just field operatives that we use on a regular basis. These are the guys we call in when we want to know that a job is done to the letter.” He pointed to the dossier. “These men could topple most Third World nations over a weekend and never risk a night’s sleep over it. These are our go-to operatives. And now you’re telling me that they’re wrapped up with your patsy?”

  Chesterfield shrugged again. “Yeah. So? We burn them all and—”

  “Again, I think what we have here is a failure to communicate.” Colonel Nelson stood and squared his shoulders. “These are not men you want to fuck with.”

  Chesterfield smiled. “They can never tie this back to us. All of the evidence points to Bridger being—”

  Nelson held his hand up, stopping the man midsentence. “If Bridger is friends with these men, no amount of manufactured evidence will sway them. If they have his trust, they will burn the world to the ground to prove him innocent.”