“Pancho, wake up, buddy,” John said. “Come on, Pancho, wake up!”
Omar’s men better be at the rendezvous site, or there’ll be hell to pay. Alex raced into the city of Laboue and slammed on the brakes before turning left toward the Assi River. Soon he was off-road, blazing a trail through the woods. Major Khan couldn’t catch Alex, but Alex couldn’t lose him, either. Alex wanted to drive faster, but if he wrecked, they’d be in worse shape. Smooth is fast. His frustration level threatened to max out, but he couldn’t let it. He pushed the Hummer as hard as he dared, dodging in and out of trees until he slid to a halt next to the water’s edge. Fortunately, Omar’s men stood by ready with rubber boats.
“We need to hurry,” Alex said. “Bad guys coming.” Alex wasn’t sure if they understood him, but Omar’s men helped unload Leila, Pancho, Hassan, Dalal, and Youssef from the car and into their rubber boats.
“John, drop smoke,” Alex said.
“Dropped smoke and a Bouncing Betty,” John said. John often carried U.S. military smoke and explosives, but on this mission, he went sterile, carrying Iranian goodies to hide the Outcasts’ country of origin.
Good.
Omar’s men and the SEALs pushed off the rubber boats and paddled into the river until a swift current carried them away. Behind them, white smoke expanded up and outward from the ground.
26
* * *
With a blown-out front tire, the Range Rover skidded to a stop in front of a wall of white smoke. One side-view mirror dangled and the other was missing. Most of the front windshield was blown out, and the vehicle looked as if a flock of giant steel-beaked woodpeckers had attacked it. Lieutenant Saeedi’s shirt was torn where a bullet had ripped it. Flying glass had cut into the side of Major Khan’s face, bloodying it. Pistachio had taken a round in the left shoulder, which he had already bandaged.
The three jumped out of their vehicle and Lieutenant Saeedi sprinted ahead into the smoke. Major Khan and Pistachio followed close behind. They lost sight of Lieutenant Saeedi, but they could hear him. Major Khan heard a dreaded sound: click. Lieutenant Saeedi had triggered a booby trap. As Major Khan’s adrenaline sped up, time seemed to slow down. This is the end. Instead of the boom of an explosion, there was a distinctive delay of a Bouncing Betty. I still have time. “Hit the dirt!” He dropped and heard a whoosh of air as the body of the mine hopped about three feet high into the air. The resulting explosion was deafening. With his face in the dirt, Major Khan couldn’t see the explosion, but he knew its shrapnel would shred everything in a thirty-meter radius from about the waist up. Consistent with its design, everything on the ground was safe.
Major Khan stood and carefully walked out of the smoke. Lieutenant Saeedi was in the water. “What happened to you?” Major Khan asked.
“I slipped and fell in the freezing water! What the hell does it look like?!”
Major Khan had been so focused on getting under the Bouncing Betty’s explosion, he hadn’t heard the splash. Major Khan gave Lieutenant Saeedi a hand out of the water. “Did you see Alex and his men?”
“No, they got away. That explosion wasn’t what I thought it was, was it?” Lieutenant Saeedi asked.
“You’re lucky you fell in the water.”
“Where’s Pistachio?”
They walked through the smoke toward their vehicle. When they exited the smoke, they spotted Pistachio on the ground. The explosion had left his legs intact, but his upper body from his groin to his face was a bloody, mangled mess. “I can’t move my body,” Pistachio said almost unintelligibly.
“Aww, shit,” Lieutenant Saeedi swore.
Part of Pistachio’s jaw seemed broken. “Hospital,” he pleaded.
“Hang on, Pistachio,” Lieutenant Saeedi said. “We’re going to fix you up and get the bastards who did this to you!”
“Hospital,” Pistachio said weakly.
Major Khan brought his rifle up to his shoulder.
“Aww, no,” Lieutenant Saeedi said. “We have to get him to a hospital.”
Pistachio groaned.
Major Khan pulled the trigger.
“No!” Lieutenant Saeedi cried. Tears ran down his face. “You killed Pistachio!”
“That’s what friends are for.” Major Khan walked to the Range Rover.
“You coldhearted bastard! You’re just going to walk away from Pistachio?!”
Major Khan stopped and turned around. “You think I’m happy about losing him?”
“Say his name: Pistachio.”
“Get in the car.”
“Say Pistachio!”
“Let it go.”
“You can’t say Pistachio’s name because you just killed him!”
“There’s nothing we can do about it here.”
“There’s something we can do about it!”
Major Khan stared hard through Lieutenant Saeedi, waiting for a suggestion.
“We can say something in honor of him,” Lieutenant Saeedi reasoned.
“You do that.” Major Khan returned to the truck, sat inside, and slammed the door.
Lieutenant Saeedi stood alone shivering, wet and bawling like a baby over Pistachio’s corpse.
PART THREE
I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country.
—GEORGE S. PATTON, ARMY GENERAL
27
* * *
If Alex and his crew didn’t get Pancho and Leila to the operating room on the USS Kearsarge soon, they’d both be dead. Alex, John, Hassan, Dalal, and three of Omar’s men paddled in a large, civilian, blue and white inflatable raft carrying Pancho, Leila, and Youssef. Omar’s men in the boat weren’t militia types, but they were experienced white-water rafters. Everyone wore red life jackets except for the SEALs, who already wore gray life vests that they could inflate if needed. John inflated Pancho’s life vest—just in case.
The river flowed so swiftly that they didn’t need to paddle for forward movement. They paddled only to keep the boat from turning sideways or backward. Rocks poked up out of the water and the paddlers maneuvered the boat around them like they were moving through an obstacle course. Farther downstream, more and more rocks appeared, creating white water and small waves. The raft rode over a ledge that dropped two feet—no problem. As they proceeded, the river became deadlier with more white water and larger waves. Alex and the others worked harder to avoid the larger rocks. At the next ledge they dropped five feet at a 45-degree angle and hit the water below hard enough to make Alex worry that they might lose someone over the side.
As the number of rocks increased, it became more difficult to avoid them, so they ran over them, picking up speed on the downstream side. The water rolled back on itself, creating a white, foaming hole. Alex, John, and Omar’s men paddled hard through the white water so they wouldn’t get stuck in the hole. Hassan and Dalal worked hard, paddling as fast as they could, but their strokes were short and shallow, having less effect. Alex and the others muscled their way through the water. The Assi River was tougher than he’d anticipated. Now Alex wished they had Pancho’s brawn to help them.
The Assi calmed down, and although Alex wanted to catch his breath, they still had to get Pancho and Leila to a surgeon as quickly as possible. Alex and John continued to dig their paddles into the water and pull long strokes. The others followed their example.
After their boat rounded a bend, the river was all white water for as far as Alex could see. Then he saw a drop ahead—it looked like a big one. John stowed his paddle and grabbed hold of Pancho and Leila. Hassan and Dalal held on to John. Omar’s two men on the starboard and port sides paddled diligently to keep them straight while the man in the back steered.
Youssef stood up screaming and waving his hands. Alex tried to pull him down so he wouldn’t fall out of the boat. Alex didn’t want to lose a hostage, and he didn’t want to perform a rescue swim in icy water. Hypothermia worried him more than
drowning. Youssef broke out of Alex’s grip. The ledge appeared up ahead. The other side angled down at 45 degrees—a ten-foot waterfall. Alex grabbed a handful of Youssef’s shirt and jerked him down to the deck just as they edged over the top of the waterfall and began to drop. When they hit bottom, the front of the boat folded upward. Still holding Youssef by the shirt with one hand, Alex landed with such force that his other hand lost its grip on the boat, but he clung to the boat with his legs. When the water calmed, Alex was happy that he and Youssef hadn’t taken a swim.
They reached their rendezvous point and paddled out of the river’s main current and landed onshore. After exiting the boat, Alex and the others pulled it farther inland, where Cat and Brutus were there to greet them. Brutus’s two drivers each sat behind the wheel of an idling vehicle.
“Youssef!” Brutus hugged Youssef and kissed him on the left cheek, right cheek, then left—a common Lebanese greeting between friends and family.
Youssef cried tears of joy.
Brutus kissed Alex: left cheek, right, left.
Alex didn’t think he’d be happy to be kissed by a man, but he was. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, but we’ve got a medical emergency.”
Alex needed Cat to translate for him, but she stood staring at Pancho and Leila.
“Cat, I need you to translate for me.”
She remained in a daze.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Tell Brutus that we have a medical emergency and need to go.”
Cat translated, her voice trembling.
Brutus helped the Outcasts load Pancho and Leila into their van. Alex gave a hurried wave before sitting in the passenger seat. Cat peeled out, then sped along small roads before she reached the main road.
As she barreled along the highway, Alex radioed JSOC and told them about Pancho’s and Leila’s critical conditions. Alex requested a helo medevac but was told to follow the original extraction plan and that two surgeons on the Kearsarge would be standing by with their staff and operating rooms prepped.
Cat raced through Tripoli. Alex noticed a tear in her eye. Even though Pancho and Leila meant more to Alex than most people, his eyes were dry. Maybe I do need to learn how to love. Maybe I do live in a lonely little dysfunctional world. But in situations where most people would’ve shit themselves, I kept my cool. I made the impossible become possible. And because of that, Pancho and Leila are going to survive.
The average time to drive from Tripoli south forty-four klicks to Byblos was about fifty minutes, but Cat reached Byblos in twenty-five. Near the end of the trip, they passed through the town of Amsheet, where Alex, Pancho, John, and Cat had cheated death before. We’ll cheat death again.
On the Lebanese amphibious base, Alex linked up with the Lebanese marine commandos. Even though the commandos knew it was a training exercise, they treated the situation as if it were real. They loaded up their boats with the Outcasts and Hassan and took them to the USS Kearsarge.
Both Pancho’s and Leila’s eyes were closed. Alex tried to wake them up, but neither responded.
“We need to go faster!” Alex told the coxswain. Cat translated.
“Yes, sir,” the coxswain replied.
But the boat didn’t go any faster—it was going as fast as it could. The five-minute ride to the ship felt like five hours. On board the Kearsarge, only a select number of people knew that the medical emergency was real and were told to keep it a secret.
Pancho and Leila were immediately whisked off to the operating room, and Hassan was ushered off for a medical check. Alex, John, and Cat waited outside the operating room. “This will probably take a while,” a Navy commander said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Some water would be nice,” Alex replied.
“Will do.”
An hour later, the first surgeon came out. “Pancho is a tough one. He’s still in rough condition, but he’s better off than he was, and now his situation is stable.”
Alex, John, and Cat smiled.
“He needs some rest now. I recommend you three get cleaned up, grab some chow, and then get some rest, too,” the surgeon said.
“We’re waiting for Leila,” Alex said.
“Sure,” the surgeon said with a poker face that left Alex with less hope than the little he’d had before.
Minutes later, the second surgeon came out. “We did everything we could. I’m sorry. Leila is brain-dead. I don’t know how she survived as long as she did.”
Pain strained John’s face, and tears filled Cat’s eyes.
Alex remembered being in the hospital with his sister Sarah. Now the world’s colors faded and everything was turning white again. Even though his strength faded, he knew what he needed to do. “I need to see her,” Alex said.
The surgeon nodded. He escorted Alex to her room, then left him alone with her.
“I’ll always remember you, Leila. Mamnoon.” He put his hand on hers and kissed her on the lips. He knew what he needed to say, and he didn’t hesitate. “Goodbye, Leila. It’s okay to say goodbye.”
Minutes later, her EKG went flat. Alex walked out of her room and returned to John and Cat. “She’s gone,” Alex said.
Cat cried.
John pulled Alex aside.
Alex didn’t want to talk to him. Alex didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be alone.
“In the Hummer, Leila told you something,” John said. “What did she say?”
Alex looked into John’s eyes and saw so much hurt. Maybe it was just a reflection of Alex’s hurt. He wanted John to feel better, so Alex said what he thought John wanted to hear. “John.”
“The last thing she said was my name?”
Alex nodded, then walked away. He walked down the narrow passages, not knowing where he was headed until he found himself at the forward hold. The steel door was unlocked, so Alex opened it and walked in. Rope, shrouds, turnbuckles, and other gear for deck operations and cargo transfers were stored inside. He closed the door and sat on a pile of rope in the dark. Alex felt lightheaded, as if he were going to pass out. He tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but his lips quivered. Tears ran down his face and they wouldn’t stop. He tried to stop them, but he couldn’t. His body shook and his throat ached like it was going to sob, but no sound came out. The tears continued to pour.
THE USS KEARSARGE SAILED a little over two days, until it arrived at the Naval Air Station Sigonella in Sicily. Alex, Pancho, John, Cat, and Hassan rode a helo to the air station. “I wish I was going with you all,” Pancho said.
“I do, too,” Alex said.
They exited the helo to find two pretty female hospital corpsmen with a stretcher. Pancho lay down on the stretcher. “Aah, Sicily,” he said with a peaceful smile.
Alex and Cat smiled, too. John just shook his head.
A gray van was parked nearby with the words U.S. NAVY written on the side. The doors opened and a commander stepped out with Dr. Sheema Khamenei. Hassan rushed toward his wife, tripped on his own feet, and fell. Dr. Khamenei ran to assist him. Hassan picked himself up before his wife reached him. Between hugs and kisses, they babbled in Farsi, but Alex didn’t need to understand Farsi to know they were happy. Alex was glad that Leila’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. He walked over to greet Dr. Khamenei, but she was still busy with her husband, so he waited patiently. As Alex watched, he felt a calmness come over him, and he wanted what they had. He looked at Cat, but she was too focused on them to notice Alex looking at her. Maybe Cat is thinking the same thing.
Dr. Khamenei turned and spoke to Alex in English. “Thank you so much. The MBD21 lab is in the jungle ten kilometers west of La Paragua, Venezuela. . . .”
28
* * *
“What is General Tehrani waiting for?” Lieutenant Saeedi asked while driving their bullet-riddled Range Rover south through Monday morning traffic toward Beirut. He wore a suit and tie, assuming the cover of an Iranian diplomat. Next to him in a diplomatic bag on the seat rested his pistol and ammunition.
>
General Khan was also dressed as a diplomat and hid his weapon and ammo in a dip bag on his lap. “He says he needs five more days before he has enough rat fleas and MBD21 for the attack.” Three groups were scheduled to infiltrate the United States via ship. They would proceed to the domestic airport terminals in Dallas, Los Angeles, and New York, where they would unleash the fleas on passengers and the terminals. By the time airport officials figured out what had happened, the fleas would already have traveled throughout the country, spreading Black Death and reproducing while Americans helped spread the disease with their coughing and sneezing. Because MBD21 was resistant to antibiotics, no one infected could be saved. The general’s goal was to wipe out half the U.S. population before a cure could be found.
“Dr. Khamenei must’ve already told this Alex bastard about the lab in Venezuela. General Tehrani should stop being so greedy and just launch what he has before we lose another lab.”
“It’s our job to see that he doesn’t succeed in destroying the lab.”
“Let’s just get one thing straight. I don’t give a damn about the lab. I don’t give a damn about General Tehrani. The only thing I give a damn about is slaughtering the pigs who killed Pistachio.”
“This green-face killed my mentor, and my protégé.”
“You never told me that,” Saeedi said.
“I just did.”
“Damn.”
“You lost a friend. I lost more. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate Alex Brandenburg.”
Lieutenant Saeedi parked in the lot at Beirut International Airport, and the two strolled inside and boarded an Alitalia flight to Rome. In Rome, they transferred planes and flew Alitalia to Simon Bolivar International Airport, near Caracas, Venezuela. Next, they flew thirty-nine minutes to Ciudad Bolivar. From there it was a three-hour charter flight to La Paragua. In La Paragua, Lieutenant Saeedi hired a driver who drove them in his jeep ten kilometers west through a maze of dirt roads until they reached the outer gate of the MBD21 lab. No outsiders were allowed past the gate, so Major Khan paid the driver and stepped out of the jeep. Major Khan and Lieutenant Saeedi walked sluggishly from the gate to the main building. Although they’d slept and eaten as often as they could during their trip from Beirut to La Paragua, both of them were exhausted.
Easy Day for the Dead Page 18
