by Mandy Harbin
She glanced at Lorenzo, and he had a blank look in his eyes. The camera he held to do split screen live footage drooped slightly as he stared at Karzai, waiting for the translation. She turned her focus back to him.
“Yes. The American known to them only as War had been scheduled to meet with Aarif Yasin the day of the air strike. The tunnel was supposed to be inspected as a possible means for moving the merchandise undetected.”
Lorenzo cussed, dropping his camera completely before walking away. “Hey,” she called after him. Where was he going? This was important information. It clearly backed up Shelby’s notes from last night, informing her Americans had sold weapons to the Taliban. There hadn’t been a name mentioned on the footage Shelby had translated for her.
What if the military had dropped the MOAB to take out one man specifically? She’d already started to believe the bombing might not have only been about the tunnels before she’d arrived here. She’d been tasked to find the story, and she had.
A big one.
Who was this man the military cared so much about? And who was the War man? Had he been taken out, too, or maybe even the target? Her mind was racing through all these questions, her journalistic instincts screaming she needed that name. Had the military learned one of their own was trafficking arms and tried to cover this up? Running guns was bad enough, but if a ranked officer was behind it, that was crimes-against-country serious and could potentially implicate a lot of people.
Or he could’ve been a Russian, which opened up another can of worms.
Either way, this story could be huge.
The story of her career.
It didn’t even register at that moment if she’d tapped into something major, she’d be here a lot longer, digging into it, but she was too excited to think beyond this minute. She needed to record this source for her producer.
“Lorenzo!”
He turned around and yelled, “Going to record the roadblock.” He walked faster across the dusty street.
“I need you here!”
Her earpiece crackled.
“Caitlin, can you hear me?” Jack, her producer, asked.
“Yeah, I got you, Jack.”
“Good. We’re rolling. I’ll count you in in approximately sixty seconds.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Axle had been standing across the small street off camera, but jogged the few paces in her direction when she’d yelled after her retreating cameraman. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure. I wanted him to record this interview, but my producer just told me we’re recording now. I’ll just keep asking this guy questions, and it should be captured by the main camera. It’s fine.”
“Okay,” Axle said, and, by his tone, he didn’t completely believe her. He stepped to the side, but staying closer than he’d been a few seconds ago.
She turned to her source, glancing briefly at Karzai to make sure he was ready. The man she’d been questioning looked suddenly nervous, but she didn’t have time to reassure him Axle wouldn’t hurt him. “Why do you call him “war”? Is it because he’s funding it?”
Karzai translated her question. She couldn’t read the man’s reply by his expressions this time. He seemed more guarded, so she waited for the answer in English.
“It is his name.”
“His name? Is he Russian?”
The man glanced at Axle again. She looked at him then, and he’d inched even closer, practically staring down the man she’d been talking to.
“What are you doing?” she whispered heatedly at him. “Back off.” She turned to the villager. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Karzai replied. “WAR represents his name. He is an American soldier.” He nodded in Axle’s direction. “Dressed like him.”
“Shit,” Axle breathed.
Jack butted in then. “Caitlin, you’re live in ten, nine, eight...”
She quickly thanked the man. “Ask if he can wait here until I’m finished,” she said to Karzai before turning to the camera, not able to wait for a confirmation.
“…three…two…one…”
She smiled into the camera as the news anchor read the lead in and tossed it over to her.
“Thank you, Maxwell. I’m in the Achin District in the Nangarhar Province, near the border of Pakistan. On April thirteenth, the United States conducted an air strike utilizing the largest, non-nuclear bomb in its arsenal to take out tunnels used by militant forces, including various factions of the Taliban and ISIS. Just a few miles to the east is where it had been detonated, leveling its target, and branded a success by American and Allied Forces. I have continued to visit area villages and talk with locals to get their take on the covert operation, and the consensus is the same,” she said, slowing down her speech with the last few words for a smoother segue into the clip she’d uploaded last night of various interviews, which Jack had edited to fit the timeslot.
She looked to the side, and saw Axle watching her intently. She nodded briefly at him, not wanting to show any emotion while she was in the middle of reporting. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t glad he was the one protecting her. No matter what had happened between the two of them, she knew he was a very skilled warrior and would be safe with him around. She focused on the camera and waited for Jack to count her into the live screen again.
“As you can see behind me,” she continued, “the devastation continues even with few people near and military presence practically gone.”
“Caitlin, we’ve received breaking news that there is more to the bombing than first released in the hours after the strike. Can you tell us more about what the townspeople have revealed to you?” Maxwell asked the prepared question.
“Yes. Multiple sources have confirmed that a member of the Shinwari tribe, who has since been identified as Aarif Yasin, was recruited into ISIS and linked to someone selling U.S. military weapons. According to other members of the tribe, Yasin’s source was a man going by the name War, who is believed to be a member of the United States military. We have yet to identify War, but he was scheduled to meet Yasin the day of the air strike. I am told Aarif Yasin was killed when the bomb detonated, but the fate of the man he was to meet is unknown.
“In a startling turn of events, we have also learned these tunnels used to move weapons had been a terrorist secret highway, funneling much more than illegally acquired firepower. These underground pathways also provided means to move money that funded rewards for the Taliban. These rewards were offered to them for killing U.S. military personnel. Sources say these contracts were strategically utilized to halt The United States progress…and that they were financially backed by the Russians.
“Were they? If so, how long has this administration been aware of contracts on American lives by a country already accused of manipulation tactics? And if our military knew one of its own had defected, why haven’t they released War’s identity? Is it because they never wanted the air strike questioned?
“One thing is for certain. There seems to be many parties involved who assumed destroying the extensive tunneling system under these very grounds would bury all the secrets it harbored. This is Caitlin Cooper reporting.”
“Fantastic job!” Jack said over her earpiece once she was clear. “We’re going to question the president’s press secretary at today’s briefing. We’ll discuss what we find out, and you can report it when we cut to you for the next segment.”
“Sounds great.” She couldn’t stop smiling.
“In the meantime, see what you can find out about War.”
“I’m on it,” she said, and pulled out her earpiece. She turned toward Karzai and was ecstatic to see the man she’d been questioning was still there. She began walking toward them and said, “We need to ask him about—”
Several loud cracks sounded, startling her. She didn’t have time to register what it was because Axle grabbed her and tossed her down behind a half-wall lining the small road. The noise continued, followed by a loud explosion.
Axle did something with his earpiece, but the sounds around them drowned out his words.
Oh God, the cracks. It was gunfire.
Gunfire.
Followed by an explosion, and more shots.
Endless cracks rent the air, going off all around them.
The village was under attack, and they were right in the middle of it! She screamed, grabbing her ears and ducking, acting on self-preservation instinct, but Axle had her covered. He blanketed her so completely, but fear also enveloped her.
“Taking fire!” he shouted, and she rolled her head to the side to look at him. He had his hand to his ear, and she realized he wasn’t talking to her. He spoke to his men on the communication device. “Coming from the west… Copy.” He rolled off and tugged her arm. “Stay low, follow me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. Another explosion rocked the center of the village right as they rounded a corner of a building, and both of them ducked lower as they ran.
This was bad. This was very freaking bad! She shook like a leaf, her heart pounding, but she ignored her body’s physical reaction to the terror as best she could. “Are we headed to the helicopter?” How close were they to it? She had no sense of direction. Her brain had gone haywire, as chaotic as the scene around them.
“Negative. It’s been hit.”
She gasped, her head craning instinctively, searching for proof of what happened, as if she needed to confirm they had no way out. Where were Karzai and Lorenzo? The rest of Axle’s team? Had they all made it to some kind of shelter, or were they out in the open still? Axle grabbed her hijab and a handful of hair, forcing her back down. She winced and reached for his hand, but dipped back down as he’d instructed.
“Sorry. Stay the fuck down.” He pushed the comm, and said, “I see seven tangos to the east. Need to get inside the building. Cover us. Radio in for another helo.” So much was happening. She was acutely aware of every sound, probably amplifying them even more. He manacled her wrist and pulled her with him as they ran hunched over to the back of the building beside them. Shots fired in their direction but ricocheted behind them. They found a door, and Axle busted in, taking her with him, his rifle on the ready.
They scanned the barren room with tables and chairs scattered about, looking for signs of threats. When Axle seemed satisfied they were alone, he turned to her.
“We’re in,” he said through his communication device, and then said to her, “Are you okay?”
Her mouth fell open, but then she jumped when an explosion outside rocked her. “We’re being shot at,” she said, her voice rising.
“People tend to do that when you engage in military combat.”
“Or maybe they’re angry you destroyed their land to eliminate the threat of one of your own people.”
Shots continued to fire in the distance. “We don’t have time for that right now.”
“You wouldn’t tell me anyway.”
He growled and stormed to a door to check it. When he saw it was only a closet, he turned back to her. “Everybody is on a need-to-know basis. We all have a job to do, and we’re not always told every detail or the fucking reasoning behind the decisions being made.”
“Did you know? Before your sister translated the video, did you know?”
A sound came from inside the building they were in. Axle put his finger up to his lips in a be quiet gesture. He slowly headed in that direction and motioned for her to stay right where she was. He opened the door and went in with warrior stealth.
“Schoolhouse isn’t empty.”
Schoolhouse? But she could tell from his tone, he wasn’t talking to her. She peeked into the room and froze. “Oh no,” she breathed, staring down at a dozen or so pair of eyes. She slowly walked all the way in.
He stepped toward the children and motioned with his hand, instructing them to stay down under their tables. These babies were in this building.
In the middle of a warzone.
Defenseless.
Unfazed.
He glanced around the room, finding a stairwell. “Follow me.”
“But the kids,” Caitlin said, though she never hesitated to follow him. When they’d first met, she’d bucked his authority at times, but even then she wouldn’t have ignored him at a time like this.
That was back when she hadn’t had feelings for him.
Trusted him with everything…even something she hadn’t planned on giving him.
“Best way to save them is to push back the attack. I need to get higher up and into position. Take out any threat to the kids and us.”
She looked back at the kids, not wanting to leave them alone.
“C’mon, Caitlin,” he said with gentle authority.
They ran up the stairs, not stopping until he found his way onto the roof of the building. It was one of the tallest in the village, but still short enough they could jump from the top. They might break some bones, but they’d survive.
From up here, she could see the devastation. Smoke billowed from four different areas as gunfire continued in a barrage. At this position, the sound reminded her of firecrackers on the Fourth of July, those pesky fireworks that did nothing but pop and crack. It was surreal that sounds of war in a repressed country reminded her of the traditional sounds of celebration on Independence Day. Her brain had a hard time reconciling it with the images of the ruin below.
“Baby, get down,” Axle said, pushing on her shoulders until they were on all fours. The term of endearment caused her already pounding heart to nearly beat out of her chest. She watched him as he crawled to the side, lay on his belly, and propped up his gun, thinking he was too focused on this task of keeping them alive to realize he’d called her anything other than her name.
She followed him, crawling as low to the ground as she could, scraping her elbows and knees through her clothes along the rough and bumpy surface. “What are you going to do from up here? Shouldn’t we find the other guys and fight in a group?” She really had no idea how this worked, but there was better luck in numbers, right?
He looked to the side, his eyes cold, fierce. “Too dangerous to run. New transport should be on the way. Air support might have to come if we can’t take them out or make ’em retreat. Up here I can keep people from storming the school and using the kids.”
“Use the kids? What the hell does that mean?”
His eyes looked troubled for a split second, but whatever the emotion was quickly disappeared before he turned his focus back to the streets. “Our best chance is to stay right here. The team knows where we are. They’ll help protect us,” he said as he flicked something on his rifle. “Cover your ears,” he murmured, the command gentle, which felt all the more foreign. How could he be calm at a time like this?
She quickly slapped her hands over her ears, and Axle pulled the trigger once, the sound blasting through her meekly protected eardrums. Her hands clamped down harder and she ducked her head just as Axle fired another shot. A few seconds later, she looked up at him as he activated his communication device. “Two down. I have four tangos on the move. One running your way, Dozer.” He glanced at Caitlin. “Ears.”
She covered her ears and flinched when he took another shot, immediately followed by another. About five seconds later, he took two more shots and spoke to his team. “Tangos eliminated… Negative, schoolhouse not breached.”
As he continued scanning the area with his scope, he said, “Lorenzo and Karzai entered on the southside of this building and should be covered from fire. AA and Haverty are making their way toward us. When they reach the building, we will head down and rendezvous with them.”
“What about the kids?”
“We’ll make sure they’re safe. Do our best to make sure they live to hate us and try to kill us later.”
“Why are you so cynical? Those kids didn’t choose this life. Don’t you think they should be given a chance to make a change in this world?”
“Don’t be so naïve. Children are impressionable.
There are now generations of men born and bred to fight in the name of jihad. They are taught from birth Western culture is a threat, and they are to eliminate it.” He glanced at her briefly and said, “Those kids don’t know any different.”
She knew he was right, but she also believed that children could learn from the mistakes of their parents and break the cycle. They were helping make that happen for them. She had to believe they were creating hope for a better life. That in the end, humanity would prevail.
“They will,” she said firmly.
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink,” he said, reciting the old saying as he scanned the area. He fired then, and she covered her ears too late. They rang for several seconds.
When the buzzing stopped, she pulled them back down and said, “They don’t even know water is out there. We just have to show them, and they’ll figure it out.”
His gaze flickered to her for a split second, obviously not wanting to keep his gaze off any incoming threats. “I knew,” he said, and she immediately understood he was answering her question from before.
“About killing contracts being funded by the Russians?”
“No. I was aware the tunneling system had been funded by al-Qaeda. That they were used to travel and move anything and everything to assist in their jihad, so money to fund rewards for prices on U.S. military heads could have absolutely funneled through them. I didn’t know Russia was involved.” He spied her briefly. “Neither do you. That hasn’t been confirmed.”
“That you know about. You just said we’re all on a need-to-know basis.”
He shook his head at that. “Cover your ears,” he said softly. She did right before he took another shot. Pushing his communication device, he said, “Pathway clear.” When he let go, he said, “I can see them. When they reach the building, we gotta bug out. Be ready to move when I say so.”
“Okay.” He was quiet for several seconds as he viewed the landscape through his scope. “So what did you know?”
His jaw clenched. “I was ordered not to help you with your news story.”
