Doc heard the heavily-accented female voice even as he felt warm blood ooze down the side of his face. She’d gotten him good.
“United States Green Beret, ma’am. I’m here to get you out.”
Arms reached up over his helmet, wrapping around his neck as the woman sobbed into his vest. “I prayed to Jesus to save me and here you are. Praise be.”
“You’re Christian?” Doc asked, looking down. There was no light inside the hut save for the glow from the fire outside in the cluster.
She sniffed, looking up. “Yes. I know. It’s not usual for Syrians to be Christian, but I am.”
“Syrian?” Doc asked, surprised. “Ma’am, who are you?”
“You don’t know? But…you said you were here to rescue me.”
He shook his head. “We’re here looking for the chemist. We saw the terrorists drag you out of the SUV earlier in shackles. We couldn’t leave you behind. Speaking of which,” he reached back finding her hands still cuffed together around his neck. Ducking out of the loop of her arms, he pulled away. “Let’s see if we can get those off.” He unzipped a vest pocket pulling out a kit. Inside the folded leather were several lock picks, one made especially for handcuffs. The cuffs were removed in no time.
She rubbed her wrists. “Thank you…?”
“Just call me Doc.” He turned, glancing outside. The gunfire ceased. He needed to see what was going on. “Get behind me and stay low.”
The woman moved in close at his back. Doc peeked out, rifle first, eyes second. Huts two and nine were ablaze lighting up the circle. Embers from the flames would ignite the surrounding huts and the whole place would go up in flames. He looked right towards hut one. Skyscraper and Ghost were dragging two bearded men out. Both were bleeding and cursing up a storm. Behind them, Outlaw and Hollywood dragged two more. They appeared unconscious. That left a fifth still inside the hut.
He ran out, the woman on his heels.
“Where’s the last one,” he asked.
“Dead,” said Outlaw. “Couldn’t be helped. He wouldn’t stay down. Launched himself at Hollywood.”
“It was him or me, and I always choose me,” said Hollywood. He dropped the unconscious man he’d been dragging free of the hut. Embers landed on the roof and flames spread. Hollywood looked back with a wry half-smile. “One barbecued terrorist coming up.”
“I just hope he wasn’t the goddamned chemist,” said Outlaw, “or all of our asses will be toast.”
“He wasn’t.”
The men turned, looking at the woman stepping out from behind Doc. In the light of the fire, Doc could see she was small in stature with long, black hair hanging down around her shoulders. It was streaked gray. Her dark eyes held both a maturity and calm wisdom. She was attractive in the way of librarians or hot professors. She just had that air about her. The tone of her voice reminded him of Eartha Kitt which had him recalling a childhood spent watching Batman episodes featuring a purring Catwoman. It struck him that he’d just been mauled by what he thought at the time was a wild, pissed-off cat. In fact, she’d clawed him but good. He reached up, touching his bloody cheek.
Outlaw stepped forward. “So you know which one of these men is the chemist? Thank God. Which one?”
She looked at the men on the ground. The two still conscious cursed her, calling her every kind of derogatory name in Arabic. “None of them.”
“Dammit!” Outlaw turned, pacing.
Doc blew out a breath. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes, I am sure.”
“Great. Just great,” Hollywood said, shaking his head.
“Had to be a decoy. We got played and Wolf’s team is gonna grab all the glory. Dammit.” Skyscraper kicked the dirt.
“As long as the chemist is found, does it really matter?” asked Ghost. “The mission isn’t a loss. We saved someone.” He looked at the woman. “What’s your name, ma’am? What happened to you? Why did these men have you?”
She stood, calmly clasping her hands behind her back, looking every inch the professor Doc likened her to and said, “I am Sulima Ali. I was kidnapped approximately sixteen months ago from Damascus.”
“Dear God,” Outlaw began. “That long? But why?”
She held up a hand. “Because,” she said, “I am the chemist you seek.”
Doc coughed. “Say again?”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, lady?” Outlaw asked, stalking closer.
She nodded. “You came here for the chemist. The one who makes bombs for ISIS. I am her. But not a willing participant as you’ve probably figured out.”
Outlaw’s expression grew dark. “I don’t give a rat’s ass. Your bombs have killed a lot of innocent people, Sulima Ali!”
She swallowed. Sadness filled her eyes. “I know. And I can only hope God forgives me. I’ve prayed to Jesus every day to deliver me from these evil men. When they found me in Damascus, my family was already on the run. The war in Syria has torn us all apart. Assad’s regime will not stop, between their purging of Syrian Christians and crushing anyone not on his side, and the opposition being infiltrated by ISIS, there was no safe haven. My family and I had only returned there briefly from Dubai where I worked for SynCorp as a chemical engineer. My husband’s mother and brother were still in Damascus and needed our help. Tariq’s mother passed while we were there and then men came for his brother, Farid, demanding he join them. He refused to go and they killed him, then killed my husband. They took me and my daughter, Fatima, but I haven’t seen her since that day. Somehow, they knew I worked for SynCorp, saw the badge in my purse, and they separated us. They have my daughter. Said if I don’t do what they ask, they’ll kill her.” Tears streaked her cheeks. Sulima shook her head. “I am so happy you’ve found me, but now, they will surely kill her.”
Doc went to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. “We won’t let that happen.”
“How can you stop them? I don’t even know where she is? And they’re expecting me in Saudi Arabia tomorrow. That man,” she pointed at the man bleeding at Skyscraper’s feet, “he made the call from the hut. Transport is coming in the morning.”
Skyscraper looked down. “This one?” he asked. “Looks like we have some information to extract after all.” He looked at Sulima. “Don’t worry, mama. We’ll find out where they’re holding your daughter.” The man in question began to protest. Skyscraper kicked him in the ribs. “That’s only the beginning, flea-bag. One thing I don’t like is dudes who hurt little girls.”
“She’s not—” Sulima began.
“This day might just offer far more than you after all, Ms. Ali. If we can locate your daughter and also find out where exactly they were taking you, who they were taking you to, we could put a stop to their plans, cripple their operation severely.” Outlaw looked at the scene before him, his mind going over all the possibilities.
“What are you thinking, Outlaw?” Ghost eyed his captain. Experience told him Nate’s mind was going 90 mph down the information highway.
“We need to get these shit-bags back to the nearest base camp.”
“That would be Medical Base Camp 10,” said Doc. “There isn’t anywhere closer.”
“Colonel Jackson’s going to have to lend us a private room,” said Nate. “Get these prisoners tied up and let’s appropriate their vehicles. The quicker we get back, the quicker the interrogations start. Also,” he glanced at Sulima, “we should get you checked out by the doctor. I’m sure COM-SAD will want to speak with you along with someone from the State Department. You said you were in Dubai working. Are you a UAE citizen?”
“I am. So was my husband,” she said.
“They’re going to want you back. That complicates things.”
“They haven’t wanted me back for sixteen months. Surely the Emirates would have had more leverage to obtain my freedom that anyone else. They did not. They left me to these animals, left my daughter unprotected. I cannot forgive that.” She straightened her spine. “I am formally
requesting asylum with the United States. I will tell you everything I know, everything I’ve learned, but you must do one thing for me. You must find and save my daughter.”
Outlaw looked at Ghost. Finally, “It’s not up to me to grant you asylum. That will be up to the State Department in coordination with the Pentagon. Honestly, it’s going to depend on what information you have to offer.”
“I know who ordered me detained,” she said, eyes flashing, “and I know their plan. Believe me, your government is going to want to know. Without me in their hands there will only be a delay to the chaos and carnage by ISIS. I’m not the only chemical engineer in the Middle East.”
“How much of a delay?” Skyscraper asked.
She glanced up at the tall man. “After they discover they’ve lost me? A day. Two.”
“She’s right,” Ghost said. “If a plan is already underway, they have a B-team. Probably don’t even need to take time out to kidnap another bomb-maker. They’ve had her for sixteen months. There’s no way they weren’t paying attention to what she does and how she does it, taking notes.”
“Captives don’t get the privilege of privacy. I have been under constant supervision. Those two have been my guards for the past year,” she added, eyes narrowed as she glared at the two men on the ground.
“Then we have very little time,” Outlaw concluded. “Hollywood, Skyscraper, Doc, tie these sacks of shit up tight and toss them into the back of the SUVs. Two to each vehicle.”
The men set about securing the terrorists. Their arms were bound behind their backs, ankles shackled, and then tied by rope to the wrist shackles. They were gagged and hoods were placed over their heads.
The two conscious ones went into the back of the first SUV and the two unconscious were placed into the second. Outlaw and Doc took Sulima with them sitting her in the front seat while Doc drove. Outlaw sat in the back, his M4 trained on the hog-tied terrorists. Skyscraper, Ghost, and Hollywood commandeered the second SUV. In record time, they were on the road heading out into the darkness back toward medical base camp with a quick stop to pick up their hidden Jeep. Behind them, the remaining huts in the cluster went up in flames, all except the one set apart from the circle. The hut with one red stone. The door opened slowly and a man peeked out. Seeing the inferno and the retreating taillights, he went back inside, lifting the cellar door in the floor and descended the stairs into a large basement.
Three tables of computers, monitors, and an old Russian radio unit filled the space. The man, in his mid-twenties, with a clean-shaved face sat at the center table and flipped a switch. Speaking in Arabic, he stated, “We have lost the chemist. I repeat, we have lost the chemist. She has been taken…by the Americans. Awaiting orders.”
Chapter 10
Leisl woke to find Angie peeking into her room. Startled, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up.
“What is it?”
Angie smirked. “Your boyfriend’s back.”
Leisl blinked. “My what?”
“The medic. He’s back. They arrived some time last night. Shit’s hush-hush and no one is allowed near the guest quarters. Colonel’s orders. Something’s up. I’m on shift in ten minutes. Got to take care of their teammate and change his dressing, tickle his testes,” she said, chuckling. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“About that, Ang—”
“No time now. Just letting you know what’s up. We’ll talk at shift change. Later, girl!” She sprinted down the hall leaving Leisl to mull over the information.
So Jason was back and now no one could go near the guest quarters. She had no idea what that meant. But Sergeant Tyler’s words were still fresh in her mind and the anger hadn’t faded. She had a few choice words for Doc and she was sure he wouldn’t like any of them. Rising, she headed for the shower. A loud keening pierced her hearing and she stopped. Raising a trembling hand, she covered her left ear.
“Breathe, Leisl, breathe,” she muttered. Concentrating on her breaths, she managed to regain control of her hand. She needed her medication. With her ear still ringing, she turned to the bedside table reaching for the pill bottle. She swallowed it down without water and made her way, once again toward the staff showers.
Pooch met her outside and trotted beside her to the shower tent. He waited while she cleaned up, lying patiently by the door, tongue lolling to the side as the chilled air of the night quickly heated with the rising sun. Leisl took a little more time than usual. After drying off and putting on her fatigues, she pulled out her makeup bag. A little concealer, powder, mascara, and lip gloss went a long way. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to pretty herself up when she didn’t bother any other day, but there she was, eyeing herself in the compact mirror.
“You’re mad at him, Leisl,” she reminded herself. “And you’re being foolish. Why are you even bothering? He didn’t come back because of you. He was just passing time.” She snapped the compact closed and threw it back into the bag. Winding her still-wet hair up in a tight chignon, she pinned it in place. Rising, she gathered her things.
Pooch sat up when she walked out. He cocked his head sideways, eyeing her.
“Yeah, I know. I’m an idiot.” He whined, ducking his head. She made her way back to her room where she stowed her shower items and then returned to the dog. “Let’s go eat,” she said. At the word ‘eat’, he thumped his tail and trotted ahead of her toward the mess tent.
Breakfast was a quick and quiet event. Leisl managed some scrambled eggs and toast and the cook gave pooch leftover hamburger and carrots from the night before and some bacon from the chow line.
The dog’s belly had grown, poking out a bit at his sides while he sat with his head leaning against her leg. “You’re getting fat, Pooch,” she said. “Maybe we should play fetch the stick a bit so you can burn a few calories. Can’t have you walking around here with a pot-belly. Army regulations and all. You need to maintain a certain level of fitness or else they…” she paused, clearing her throat. “Well, if you’re not fit, they send you away, boy. So you need to prove your worth. What do you say? Want to go play?”
Pooch made a sound as if trying to answer her question, his eyes, conveying that he clearly did not feel the need to burn off his food. His comical expression made Leisl laugh.
“You’re lazy and spoiled, you know that?” She rubbed his ears. “It’ll be fun. Consider it exercise for me then. I need the fresh air.”
They left the tent and headed for an open green space on the edge of the camp. Guest quarters sat to the left side of the small field and the supply tents to the right. Leisl found the pile of sticks she’d hoarded near the supply tent and picked one up, waving it for the dog to see. As expected, once he saw it, he was ready to play. She threw it sending the stick flying. Pooch ran, grabbing it up and running back to her where he dropped it at her feet, a silly doggy grin on his fuzzy beige face.
“Here we go. Go get it!” She hauled her arm back and sent the stick spinning end over end. Padded paws scrambled in the patchy grass kicking up dirt as he ran to retrieve it again. Pooch ran back with the stick gripped in his chops but he didn’t stop in front of her. Instead, he faked right, running around her. “Hey!” she said, twisting around.
“Hey yourself,” said a familiar voice.
Leisl sucked in a breath. Jason stood behind her, grinning, dimples flashing. Pooch sat at his feet looking up at the man, stick still in his mouth. He whined, lifting a paw to touch Doc’s leg.
“Got your message. What’d you want to talk to me about?” He reached down, absently petting the dog and taking the stick, throwing it across the field. Pooch took off running.
“You’re okay?” Her eyes checked him from head to toe. Everything was in place. Too in place for her comfort.
His grin grew wider under her gaze. He returned the favor. Doc took his time, taking in the curve of her hips, the shape of her legs—even in fatigues—and the perkiness of her breasts before rising again to her face. Her eyes had a
cat-like quality and her full lips glistened in the sun. A light breeze carried the scent of her hair tickling his senses. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sergeant Craig.”
A flush swept her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he smiled, unrepentant. “Yes, I’m okay. And you?”
“Fine.”
Her answer was a bit too quick. Being raised around women, he knew better and wondered if she would ever tell him the truth of what was going on with her.
“Your face?” she said, stepping closer and reaching up to touch the scratches on his cheek. In her shock at finding him behind her, she hadn’t noticed right away.
Doc accepted her touch, enjoying the warmth of her fingers on his skin before taking her hand. “That’s nothing. It’ll heal.”
“But you said you were okay. That’s not okay, Jason.” Concern filled her and she forgot to be angry. “What happened or can’t you tell me?”
“I can’t tell you any more than I got scratched. But it’s nice that you care. That makes it all better,” he said, kissing her fingers. “Did you miss me while I was gone, Leisl?” His voice dropped low.
“What? No,” she said, trying to pull her hand from his. He wouldn’t let go. Then she remembered she was angry with him. “And what’s with telling your buddy I’m your girl? He won’t even let me take care of him or change his bandage. I can’t do my job properly if you’re spreading stories about us. You’ll get me in trouble!”
The easy smile on Doc’s lips slipped. “I never said any such thing.” Silently, he cursed Eastwood. “All I said was for him not to be hitting on you.”
“Then why did he call me your girl? What’s that all about? Did he just make that up out of thin air?”
Doc watched the petite spitfire before him grow angrier by the minute. He should’ve been mad too, but her ire didn’t put him off. It was, in fact, having the opposite effect. The more worked up she got over being labeled his girl, the more endearing he found her to be. “Sounds like he came to his own conclusion, but I have to admit, I like the idea.” The smile returned, but the twinkle in his brown eyes was replaced with a burning intensity.
Loving Leisl (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Green Beret Book 2) Page 6
