“I’M TELLING YOU, all of the frequencies that tier one usually uses have been quiet.” Jeff scanned the computer screen in front of him. “To be honest, it’s spooky. There’s not even normal chatter. It’s like everyone is holding their breath to see who talks first. Then it will be assumed that they had their finger in this pie.”
Jay paced as his gears started smoking. “I don’t get it. Why would the agency alert the ISI to us?”
“You have al-Abadi, yeah? My guess is they want him for some reason.”
Jay shook his head. “How do they know that we have him?”
“Who else would have snatched him from the world?” Jeff practically laughed. “It doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure this one out.”
Jay huffed in the phone. “Fine. So they know that we know. I still don’t get their end game.”
Jeff shook his head as he continued staring at the screen. “My guess is that somebody dropped the ball. The timing is off on this.” He leaned forward, his eyes turning to the boards and the active actions in place. “It’s almost like…nah.”
“Finish your thought, brother.”
Jay sighed. “It’s almost like the left hand doesn’t know what the right one is doing. Like the players are working off of different time tables.” Jeff snorted a laugh. “I can’t see the agency signing off on this. It’s like amateur hour.”
“Amateur hour or not, it’s our tit caught in the wringer.” Jay glanced into the room where his crew was still sharing the bottle. “We’re screwed no matter what we do. We can’t leave with everybody looking for us. We’d never get across town, tinted windows or not.”
“You’re right there. They already have check points set up throughout the city.” Jeff switched screens and looked at the barricades on a map. “They’re searching everybody…except…”
“Except who?” Jay’s voice couldn’t hide his hopefulness.
“Military.” Jeff smiled. “US troops are just waved through.”
Jay sighed. “I’m sure you could get the uniforms, but I didn’t see any military transports parked behind that coffeeshop.”
“Let me make some calls.” Jeff paused then came to his feet. “Hold on.” He turned and rifled through his file cabinet. He pulled a file and perused it quickly. He nearly laughed as he picked up the phone again. “Your boy Abadi…he deals in arms.”
“We know that.”
“He also deals in military vehicles.” Jeff waited for the dots to connect.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. Hit him up for a couple of armored Humvees and I’ll get the uniforms to you. Contact me when you have transport.” Jeff was smiling as he hung up the phone.
Jay walked back into the back room and pulled the bottle from Steve’s hand. “Time to sober up boys.” He turned to al-Abadi. “If you want to save your own skin, you need to cough up a couple of US Humvees.”
Muhammed’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “I don’t—”
Jay stepped closer, totally invading the man’s personal space, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear that you can’t…I want to hear you say, ‘yes, sir, I have two armored military Humvees at your disposal.’”
Muhammed swallowed hard and forced a smile. “I may know where a military Humvee could be found.”
“You mean, ‘two military Humvees’, correct?”
Muhammed nodded nervously. “Yes, of course. Two.”
“Excellent. We just might make it out of here, after all.”
“Except…” Muhammed trailed off.
Jay sighed. “Except what?”
“We’ll have to steal them.”
Karachi, Pakistan
* * *
ASMA ABU FAQIR threw open the door of her closet and pushed aside her expensive wardrobe. She dropped to her knees and began working the dial on the safe that was embedded in the wall. She pulled the door open and began sweeping stacks of money into her duffle.
“The gold is loaded.” She nearly jumped at the voice and turned to glare at the handmaid. “I am sorry, mistress.” The girl bowed deeply and backed away.
Asma turned her attention back to the task at hand. She knew that she had to get as far away from Karachi and some place where she could disappear or her life wouldn’t be worth a bucket of warm camel piss.
Asma slid the duffle back and forced the zipper closed. She stood and smoothed her shalwar kameez. “Get this loaded.” She swept past the women standing idly by in her bedroom. “I will be leaving shortly.”
She continued into the adjacent room and nodded to the large body guards. “I am ready. Ensure that everything is loaded and the plane is made ready.”
As she marched toward her office, she heard her telephone ring. She froze midstep and felt a cold chill run up her spine. She knew who it was before she picked up the receiver. Her hand hovered over the phone for just a moment as a plan formulated in her mind.
“Yes?”
The husky voice on the other end of the phone didn’t sound patient. “Tell me that was not your facility that was destroyed today.”
She forced a curt laugh. “It was one of mine. But you needn’t worry. It is not the one creating your weapon.” She was lying but she prayed that she had honed her skill at deception well enough when she was married.
“Then our shipment is ready?”
“First thing in the morning. I have already spoken to my people and they are preparing it for transport as we speak.”
“Good.” The husky voice didn’t sound convinced. “I’m sure you won’t mind my people waiting with you until morning, then.”
Her eyes widened and she fought the panic surging through her limbs. “Your people?”
“They are outside your gates.” She felt her blood run cold and she stepped to the window, peering toward the gates. She could see a white van parked on the street just outside her drive. “They tell me that it looks like you are preparing to leave?”
Asma laughed again. “I was about to go shopping, that is all.” She swallowed hard and continued to stare out the window. “Your people are welcome to wait for my return. I can have refreshments prepared for them in my absence.”
The voice on the phone either choked or laughed. “I think they will stay with you.” Asma felt her breath catch in her throat. “Your shopping can wait until we have received our shipment.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I do not like being treated as though—”
“I do not care what you like, woman!” the voice barked and she actually jumped. “You are fortunate that we have given you this much time. Now we will receive what we paid for or you will find that we are not forgiving to lying women. You will discover new definitions of pain.”
Asma swallowed hard and nodded. “Of course. My plans can wait until you have received your goods.” She glanced at the mirror and realized she was as pale as she felt. “I will contact you tomorrow when your shipment is ready.”
The line went silent in her hand and she all but fell into her office chair. Her hand shook as she hung up the phone.
“I’m already dead.”
19
Karachi, Pakistan
* * *
STEVE SPOKE IN hushed tones with Bobby. The two caught Jay’s attention and waved him over. “I’m thinking we’re going about this wrong.”
“How’s that?” Jay glanced back at Muhammed as he spoke hurriedly on the phone.
“As it stands, the NSA has ratted us out to the ISI and anybody else capable of looking for us, right?”
“That’s the way it looks.” Jay crossed his arms and eyed the pair.
Bobby nodded toward al-Abadi. “And they’re probably looking for him too, yeah?” Jay nodded. “So how about…instead of risking them finding us, we give ‘em what they want?”
Jay’s eyes widened and he stared at the two. “You’re shitting me.”
Steve held a hand up. “Hold on. Listen a moment.” He glanced toward the others then l
owered his voice. “And this is just an idea, but…if we turn over everything we have on this case…”
“This is Pakistan. Do you really think the ISI is going to believe us when we show them doctored photos?”
Bobby smiled. “He didn’t say turn it in to the authorities.”
Jay’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Come again?”
Steve smiled and continued. “We find the widow. She’s the big shot underworld around these parts, isn’t she? So, we give her everything and explain just who was really behind the attacks. We get the word out and—”
“I’m sorry, but no. That’s like a rogue DEA agent turning himself in to the cartel. He wouldn’t live long enough to explain what was going on.”
Steve shook his head. “I said turn over our evidence. Not mosey up to the front door and knock.” He pointed to Gregg and his computer. “He’s got enough evidence there that the Haji Mafia could put a real hurt on the agencies.”
Jay rubbed at his goatee and chewed at his lower lip. “My gut says that we’d be playing with fire. Not to mention it could be construed as treason.”
“Agreed,” Bobby added. “But it could redirect some of the heat from us and get the fingers pointed in the right direction.”
“Let me bounce this around.” Jay glanced at Muhammed, who was smiling as he hung up his phone. “If I had my way, we’d turn it all over, but not until we were either safely in flight or standing on American soil.”
Steve raised a brow. “Like we’d be safer at home than here?”
“At least there it’s only our government wanting to take us down.” Jay hooked his chin toward the door. “Every swinging dick out there wants our heads on a platter. They think we’re responsible for the whole shit sandwich.”
Bobby nodded. “Stick with Plan A?”
“That’s the idea. But I’m good with dropping the whole shebang in their laps once we’re safely away.”
Steve patted his shoulder as he walked by. “I’ll get with Gregg and see if he can’t create a data bomb that goes off once we’re out of their air space.”
Bobby glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’m wondering where Roger is about now?”
“Probably over a lot of water.” Jay squeezed his shoulder. “It was the right call to get him away from this mess.”
“Maybe. But he’s still a marked man.”
Langley, VA
* * *
AGENT CHESTERFIELD BROKE into a dead run and nearly took the heavy door off of its hinges at his office. He reached for the phone and began dialing before his butt hit the chair.
“Get me the State Department.” He bit the end of the pen in his mouth then pulled it out. “Of course I know what time it is! Get me somebody, NOW!”
He sat back in his chair and stared at his reflection in the computer screen. Either the screen distorted his appearance or he really and truly looked like shit.
“Yes, this is Chesterfield. I need to amend the international BOLO for the Baba Yaga group.” He listened intently before his call was forwarded to the group that could assist.
“This is State. ID number please.”
Darren scrambled to find the operation ID and read it over the phone slowly. Once the ID was verified, he amended the notification. “Let it be known that the Baba Yaga group are not wanted as suspects for the explosion in Karachi this afternoon. However, it is believed by intelligence agencies that they may be harboring Muhammed al-Abadi. Abadi is the suspected mastermind behind the attack in Karachi that led to the deaths of…yes.” He listened as the State Department envoy read back the changes. He nodded, a smile forming across his features. “That’s right. Baba Yaga and Bridger may be hired muscle for Abadi.”
Darren made a few notes then hung up the phone. He sat back in his chair and rocked side to side. “Check and mate, Deputy Director Ingram…you prick.”
“I’ve been called many things, but never a prick to my face.”
Darren spun in his chair, his eyes wide. “Deputy Director, I was…I just…uh…”
“Relax Chesterfield.” Ingram pulled the door shut and leaned against the wall. “If I hammered everybody who expressed their dislike for me, half of my agency would be nails in the wall.”
Darren swallowed hard and slowly came to his feet. “W-what can I do for you, sir?”
Ingram pushed off of the wall and slowly approached the man’s desk. He peered past him and tried to read the notes he had jotted. “I’m curious what your ‘check and mate’ might be.”
“Oh.” Darren slowly smiled and took his seat again. “I dug my way out of the hole. You said that this whole operation was my fuck up…well, I just unfucked it.”
“How did you do that?” Ingram paused at the corner of his desk and eyed him cautiously.
“At first I panicked, I’ll admit it. I screwed the pooch. But I corrected that mistake.”
Ingram sat on the corner of the desk and continued to stare at him. “And how did you do that?”
“I initially put out an International BOLO for Bridger and his thug buddies.” Chesterfield smiled to himself for his creativity. “But considering that the media over there are already blaming the flag burning casualties to the factory explosion, and everybody over there knows that Abadi is an arms dealer; it only makes sense that he was behind the creation of the factory and is, therefore, responsible.”
“I’m not seeing how you fixed anything.”
Darren smiled and came to his feet, stretching out the knots in his shoulders. “I amended the BOLO to clarify that Baba Yaga is not wanted in relation to the events of today, but that we believe they are harboring Abadi…and that’s the fellow we want. Because obviously he’s the one responsible for what happened today.”
Ingram smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He shook his head slowly and stood from the corner of the desk. “And you think that is your check and mate?” He shook his head more firmly. “Until you have Bridger, the BYI guys, and Abadi in custody, you’ve got nothing.” He stepped toward the door and reached for the handle. “I hate to burst your bubble Chesterfield, but it’s still a royal fuck fest and you’re still the one on the line for it.”
He pulled the door open and stepped out of the office. “I hope you have a spare set of balls laying around. You’re going to need them.”
Karachi, Pakistan
* * *
MAMOON UL-RASHEED waded through the stream of bodies lining the hallways of the Emergency Room. He stood on his tip toes and could just see the top of Sameer’s head. He pushed and prodded his way past the wailing families and shocked faces of those who survived the attack.
“Sameer!” Mamoon yelled, waving at the man. “Where is he?”
A strong hand gripped Mamoon’s arm and pulled him aside. He jerked at the grip and turned to stare at Balil’s stern face. He pulled the man into a room and glanced about at the faces staring at them. “He is downstairs.”
Mamoon stared at him, curiously. “There are no rooms downstairs…” The realization dawned on him and he felt his legs go weak. Sameer appeared in the doorway and quickly grabbed at him, holding him up.
“He is in the morgue, Mamoon.” Sameer’s voice sounded almost devoid of emotion. His throat was hoarse from screaming and he sounded like he had gargled with broken glass.
Mamoon turned haunted eyes to his two employees and shook his head. “This cannot be.”
Sameer planted a hand on either side of his head and turned Mamoon to face him. “He is gone. I saw him myself.”
Mamoon felt his legs go out from under him and Balil pulled him deeper into the room. “We must go. There are too many here. We have things to discuss.”
The pair half pulled, half dragged their boss out and into the parking lot. “I have heard the news. They are blaming Muhammed al-Abadi for all of this.”
“al-Abadi?” Mamoon stared at Sameer. “This cannot be.”
“Yes, Mamoon, it can be.” Balil barked. “Think about it. He arranged the protest. He offe
red to pay the people to attend. He purchased the flags from us and he must have been the one to poison them.” Balil pointed to the horizon. “It was his weapon’s plant that burned. The smoke from it was laced with the gas he created and intended to sell. It killed thousands, Mamoon. Including Tariq!”
Mamoon shook his head. “I’ve known Muhammed for years. He could never…”
“He did!” Sameer barked. He pulled Mamoon around and glared at him. “I want his head!”
“But…but, Muhammed? He sells arms. He does not create them.” Mamoon argued to deaf ears.
“He is responsible. Everyone is looking for him. They even say that he hired mercenaries to protect him.” Balil spat at the ground.
“Why would he not show up to his own protest?” Sameer asked, his eyes red with unshed tears. “He always shows up so that he can get his face on the cameras. But not this time?”
Mamoon shook his head rapidly. “I do not see how the two are—”
“It was HIM!” Balil screamed. “He killed Tariq and all of the others.” He punched the pole next to them and ignored the pain radiating up his arm. “He poisoned the very flags we created for him and he used his own chemical weapon plant to kill off thousands more.”
“But why?” Mamoon asked. “That makes no sense. Why would he risk everything to kill his own people?”
“Money, Mamoon! He kills his own and blames somebody else. That brings more to his cause!” Sameer barked. “With more fighters come more weapons. He is a greedy bastard and has stooped to new levels to make money.”
Mamoon blew his breath out hard and shook his head. “This is too complex to be Muhammed. He would never risk his people, even to make a rupie.”
“You are a fool, Mamoon.” Balil sneered at him. “Even al Jazeera is proclaiming al-Abadi as the one responsible.”
“What does Muhammed say?” Mamoon asked. “Surely, if he is responsible, he would lay claim to this…cowardly act.”
Flags of The Forgoten Page 17
