by Camden Mays
They leveled their AK-47 rifles toward Cole and fired. Bullets flew indiscriminately through the air, hitting whatever stood in their way—plaster, tables, rugs, and people. Cole flipped a merchant’s table over for cover and returned fire, putting both men down swiftly while Capps and Robinson eliminated the threats in the rear.
Cole leaped into an all-out sprint, exchanging the clip in his Glock 22 and firing two shots on the run, catching al-Samarrai and his guard with Pearl at the car. The guard was down before he could get the door open. Positioned on the other side of the car, al-Samarrai had pulled Pearl to him to use her as additional protection.
“Two and Three, work your way around to flank the target,” Wang directed.
“Copy that,” Capps responded.
Cole caught his breath and kept his Glock aimed at al-Samarrai. “It’s over. Release the girl now.” Cole tried to buy a minute for Capps.
“It will never be over for you. You American dog,” al-Samarrai smirked. “I know who you are. The great AIJB hunter himself. Hasni’s wishes will be carried out someday. If not by me, then by someone else. As for this whore, she is dead already. I’ve sent her picture to everyone.”
“Base, did you pick that up?” Cole whispered in his comm.
“We did, I’m running it through the den.” Wang was referring to their DC-based team back in the basement at the CIA’s Counterterrorism Center (CTC). As Cole kept al-Samarrai boasting about his group, he knew Amy Wiggins and a team of analysts were sifting through intercepted communication threads to verify al-Samarrai’s claim. A few seconds later, Wang confirmed that Pearl was now marked for death by the jihadist movement.
Cole spoke to al-Samarrai. “I didn’t know I had such a reputation with your group. But I think your days as the Lion of Aden are over.”
“In position,” Capps called out over the comm. Cole held his left hand at waist level with two fingers.
“You think too highly of yourself, Mr. CIA man. You are not a lion killer,” al-Samarrai scoffed.
“If you want to live, put your gun down and surrender. It’s your choice.”
“You Americans are so arrogant.”
Cole held out one finger for Capps to see.
“I will kill you first, then the girl.” He raised his gun. Cole closed his fist.
A shot from Capps’s gun rang out, and al-Samarrai collapsed to the ground.
Pearl screamed and then kicked and spat on al-Samarrai’s body that lay lifeless on the road.
Chapter 2
Al Mukalla, Yemen
Sinha and Wang slapped Cole and the team high fives as they entered the nest in the warehouse near the port. Sasha Liski stood back, aloof and unengaged with the team.
“You guys had us worried for a while,” Wang said.
The happy feeling was palatable and warranted as far as Cole was concerned. It appeared his team had systematically destroyed the AIJB structure, eliminating the most influential voices within the group. Surely Salim al-Samarrai had been the Lion of Aden character, like the man behind the curtain in The Wizard of Oz. Other leaders would rise, but the remaining Hasni influence was muted, and along with it, Cole prayed the bloodthirst against him and his family would fade.
Pearl stood in her niqab apart from the group as they hugged and slapped hands. Cole reasoned that her emotions ran a different direction as he remembered the details of the asset’s file. Her future was uncertain. Her small, scanty home would soon be ransacked, and her only possible consolation was that she had no remaining kin to worry about. They had all been taken long before by al-Qaeda, ISIS, and then the AIJB.
The last to go was her older sister, who had studied abroad and returned to work at a women’s hospital. She had been outspoken about the cruelty of the Houthis and the AIJB toward Muslim women. Threatened on many occasions, her sister remained steadfast in raising awareness about the perils the women in Yemen faced daily. Just two days before the government had regained control of Al Mukalla, the AIJB dragged Pearl’s sister out of the hospital and stoned her to death in public.
It was then that the CIA recruited Pearl and showed her a different way. Rather than publicly decrying the injustice of the radical groups, the agency taught her stealth tactics that allowed the Americans to deliver one deadly blow after another. Her contributions to bringing the AIJB to its knees could not be understated. Perhaps no one had given more or accomplished as much. But now at age twenty-three, she had no future, no family, and no home.
Cole nodded to Robinson, and she took Pearl to the private quarters to help her clean up and rest for a while in their makeshift barracks. The others settled in. Cole saw a large bucket of ice-cold beer on the table.
“Where the hell did you get ice?” Capps asked.
“This guy can scrounge up anything,” Sara Wang said of Steve Sinha. Then she turned to Cole. “You’ve got a call with McCune in about thirty.”
“Thanks, Sara. Let’s be ready to break down after the call. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to go home.” He looked at his watch. In DC, Hannah was probably heading out the door soon for work.
“Amen to that, brother,” Capps said. “I’m ready for some good ole American food. I’m talking roast beef, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and cornbread. Whew wee. And with Thanksgiving coming up, I’m getting turkey and dressing, some pecan pie . . .”
“Enough already,” Sinha said, “you’re making me hungry.”
Cole grabbed the secure laptop and moved to the “guys’ room” and washed his hands and face in the water bowl. He sat on his cot and logged into a secure video feed and dialed Hannah’s tablet. He had given her the device just for these calls. He knew it was a long shot. She was probably already out the door. Over the last few missions, attempts to connect were a struggle. Between the time zone difference and the demands of their work, they were just out of sync.
To make matters worse, he could tell something was gnawing at her. On the fourth ring he was ready to hang up, but Hannah’s face popped on the screen. He lit up as he always did when he saw her.
“Hannah,” he said with a smile. “Oh babe, I miss you so much.”
“Oh Cole, I’m heading out to work. I miss you too, but I’ve got like thirty seconds. Are you OK?”
“I know, I know, yeah, yeah, I’m OK,” Cole sighed. “Just can’t wait to see you.”
“Please tell me you’ll be back for Thanksgiving. I promised Mom and Dad,” Hannah pleaded.
“Maybe much sooner. I’ll know more a little later.”
“I’m so sorry, Cole, but I really have to get going. I hope you get home soon.”
“Yeah sure, I understand. I love you,” Cole said.
“Love you too! Be safe.” Hannah blew him a kiss as the call ended.
Cole sat on the cot and glared at the blank screen, longing to be back with Hannah. His sentimental thoughts were barbarously interrupted by the croaky voice of his friend.
“Y’all done sex chatting? Is it safe to come in?”
Cole chuckled. “Man, you really know how to ruin a moment.”
“Uh-huh, that’s why I stay unattached,” Capps said as he handed Cole a cold beer. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my friend, it is. The time apart and . . .”
“No, I was talking about your body part there.”
“Dude, what is wrong with you?”
“I can’t help but mess with you now that you and Ms. FBI are a thing. I don’t know how you got so lucky. She is so out of your league.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“No, I mean she is smarter, better looking, nicer, more thoughtful . . .”
“Alright, alright. I get it. Thanks, man. You really know how to cheer a guy up.”
“Seriously, Cole. A woman like that deserves a full-time man. I’d hate to see you screw it up.”
Cole just nodded in agreement.
Wang popped into the room. “McCune’s on the horn.”
Cole left his half-drun
k beer bottle and headed to the monitors.
Capps picked up the bottle and saw it was still half full. “He can’t even finish one damn bottle,” he said as he chugged the rest of it down.
McCune was on the screen with Amy Wiggins and a few other analysts at the den in the background. “With Salim al-Samarrai neutralized, you all have effectively disrupted the AIJB organization. But this one was a little messy. Officer Wiggins played the field video from your bird, and it looks like there were civilian casualties from the exchange. I think we may see some blowback from that.”
“Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately, they nabbed Pearl at the stakeout and escaped to a red zone. Before we knew it, we had multiple combatants, but I assure you all of the civilian casualties were from the enemies’ AK-47s.”
“And everyone is OK?”
“Bridgette has a bruised throat from the assault, but Pearl is fine. She’s with us here.”
“Officer Cameron, switch this to private mode please,” McCune ordered.
He donned the headset and nodded for Wang to switch the feed. The video screen went blank, and now he and McCune were on one-on-one audio only. He listened and paced the floor and saw the team watching him for nonverbal clues.
“Ma’am,” Cole repeated three times, attempting to interrupt her. “With all due respect, I believe we have to find a way. This woman put her ass on the line repeatedly. Hell, they should be giving her medals for what she’s done.” He listened and paced some more.
“I can’t in good conscience do that, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. Cole knew it was obvious to everyone what was going down. They might as well have left the call on video. “I respectfully disagree, ma’am. What about the message it sends to all of our other assets?”
Cole’s frustration grew. “Permission to speak freely, ma’am.” After a pause, he continued and walked into the “guys’ room” for more privacy. “Ma’am, you once warned me about this job. You said ‘You could lose your soul.’ If you force us to leave her here, it will destroy whatever little bit of soul I and anyone on this team have left. I implore you, for God’s sake, don’t do this. Give this woman a chance at a decent life.” He listened for a while again as McCune berated him about the hurdles and cost involved in bringing Pearl to the States, giving her a new identity, and protecting her.
“She has saved us ten times that with her intel. How many of the AIJB have we eliminated in the past five months? Two hundred? Two hundred fifty? I’ve lost count. Most of those were here in Yemen and because of intel from Pearl. Ma’am, she is not expendable, and I refuse to leave her. I’m ready to accept the consequences of that decision.”
McCune had enough and demanded to be put back on video for the team.
“I’m sure you all are aware that Officer Cameron and I are in disagreement about your extra cargo. He is unwilling to return home without the asset. I want to know where you all stand.”
The team stood unified in demanding that Pearl Fahimi return with them to the States. Cole breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if McCune had not acquiesced.
“I see,” said McCune. “Well, in that case, bring her in. I’ve got calls to make and a lot of red tape to get through. I’m sure you all are ready to come home for a while.”
“Thank you, ma’am. And yes, we’re anxious to get back.”
“Pack it up, then. Catch your flight tomorrow. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Be safe,” McCune said as she signed out.
“I’m going to America?” Pearl was standing by the door with her hood and veil off, revealing her dark hair and fair features for the first time to the team. They complemented her almond-shaped eyes. It was clear to Cole that her youth and beauty surprised everyone in the room. She had caught the last of the exchange, and a tear slid down her cheek.
Robinson walked over to her and took her hand. Her voice was hoarse from the attack. “Yes, Ms. Pearl, you are coming to America.”
“Thank you! Thank you all,” she said as she wept. “Oh, I need to go home first!”
Pearl explained that her only possession of any value lay in a small ornament box in her small two-room living quarters. It wasn’t the monetary value of the yellow gold pendant, it was its sentimental value as Pearl’s only remaining vestige of her family. Her mother had given it to Pearl’s sister before she and her father were killed, and Pearl had removed it from her dead sister’s body after the stoning.
“Pearl, it’s not safe,” Robinson said.
“Please, please. Just to grab my mother’s necklace. It’s the only thing I have left of my family,” Pearl pleaded and pulled at Robinson’s arm. Robinson turned to Cole, tilting her head to show her vote of empathy.
“What do you think, Darryl?” Cole asked his friend.
“I say, yes. The girly needs something to remember ’em by.” The seasoned field officer bit into his MRE.
“Alright then. Let’s keep it simple. Darryl and I will get in, grab it, and get back. The rest of you stay here and pack up,” Cole said.
Pearl put her hands together over her chest and bowed her head. “Thank you. Thank you!”
✽✽✽
The sun crept below the neighboring buildings, and Darryl Capps struggled to get his bear-sized body out of the small, raggedy car, grunting as he pried himself out from behind the driver’s side. They parked just a few buildings down from Pearl’s home near the Banaamh Mosque, a known hot spot of the AIJB. Between the fading sunlight, the prying eyes, and proximity to the mosque, Cole was second-guessing the altruistic gesture.
“Let’s make this quick. I don’t like this.”
“Copy that,” Capps said, swiveling his head around to look for danger. The two still had comms set up, but no video feeds or aerial support. They came to the bottom of the stairs of Pearl’s building, and Capps stood guard while Cole hustled up to the third floor.
“I’m at the door, going in,” he announced over the radio.
“Hurry up, man. I’m getting that uneasy feelin’ out here,” Capps said. Cole looked over the rail and could see Capps had his hand on the grip of his sidearm as he kept his eyes focused across the street.
Cole drew his Glock, opened the door, and entered the small living quarters with its rug and kitchenette. Curtains separated that area from Pearl’s bedroom where she had indicated they would find the box. Slipping past them, he grabbed the object on top of the small chest of drawers.
“Got it,” he announced over the comm.
Pulling back the curtain, he was greeted with a hard smack across the forehead with a large galvanized pipe. He fell backward, tearing the curtain and blacking out for a second. Before he could gain his senses, the two attackers were on him. One removed his gun, and the other ripped out his comm set. He struggled to fight back, but another whack of the pipe came from the attacker to his right, crushing his ribs and sending him back to the floor on his hands and knees. The one to his left stomped his hand and kicked his face as the one on his right laid the pipe into his back. Now flat on the floor, dazed and desperately trying to draw his breath with blood pouring from his mouth, Cole instinctively pushed himself up with his arms. As his head slowly raised, it became an easy target for one last savage blow from the pipe.
The two attackers were joined by two additional men as they cinched a black hood over Cole’s head and carried his leaden body down the hall and out of the back of the building, dumping him into a dust-covered minivan and driving away.
✽✽✽
Capps looked at his watch. “What’s taking so long up there?” he asked over the radio. There was no reply.
“Base, how do you copy?”
“Five by five, Two,” Wang replied, verifying she received his transmission loud and clear.
“Shit!” he shouted as he raced up the steps.
“What’s happening, Two?” Wang asked as the others at the nest stopped their packing and sensed there was trouble.
Capps saw the open door to the apartment an
d jumped in ready to fire, but it was empty. The curtain and box lay on the floor. The blood on the rug told Capps all he needed to know.
“Two, what’s the status?” Wang asked again.
“Get that bird in the air quick. One is gone. I repeat: One has been taken.” Capps ran to the back of the building and looked down the narrow, twisting road, hoping to see some sign of his friend.
“I’ve got the Yemeni authorities on their way to your location. We’re going to head over.”
“No, stay there. It’s not safe. Keep the asset safe. I’ll work—ugh—ugh!” As Capps was finishing his transmission, the team at the nest heard the familiar sound of shots being fired in the background.
“Two! Come in, Two,” Wang frantically called out. “Steve, get the bird out now! Bridgette, get Langley on the line, quick!”
✽✽✽
Cole’s head rolled to the right as he slowly regained consciousness. His sensory recovery also introduced excruciating pain. His head felt as if someone had split it at the base with an ax. His fractured or broken ribs stabbed at his insides, his back was in pain, and as he tried to make a fist, his left pinky finger would not bend. Each breath he pulled in caused agony in his ribs. The taste of dried blood filled his parched mouth as he opened his eyes under the black cloth for the first time in hours or days—he wasn’t sure. As the synapses in his brain began to function, he realized he was strapped to the hard surface of a wooden chair and unable to move.
He let out a moan and cried as he thought of how his daughter had already suffered and how this would affect her life. Then he wailed again, lamenting at the thought of losing what he had dreamed of with Hannah. It was ending before it ever really began.
I’m a dead man, he thought and succumbed to an unconscious state again.
Once more he awoke, dehydrated, his mouth dry, the pain still unbearable. Breathing remained strenuous, and there was nothing to see under the black hood, but he was more alert and aware of his situation.
Can’t give up, he told himself. Be strong, have hope, think . . . think about what you have to live for. He coached his mind to cooperate with his will to survive. Jess. Hannah. His mind drifted back as if he was in a dream.
