by Camden Mays
“Did you enjoy the waterfall?” Mrs. Jacobs asked.
“Yes, ma’am. It was really nice,” Cole said.
“I see Dad has got on his adult onesie,” Hannah said, referring to her dad’s Dickies coveralls that were his garment of choice as she joined her mom in the other rocker on the porch. Cole had started walking toward the tractor shed to offer assistance.
“Yep. He couldn’t take it any longer. Between yesterday afternoon with the barbecue and church, he was getting grumpy,” Helen said. She smiled. “Hannah, you and Cole look perfect together. I think your daddy likes him.”
Hannah rolled the rocker back and forth and watched the two men in her life from a distance.
“Do you need any help, Mr. Jacobs?” Cole asked as Patches came up to get head pat.
“You know anything about tractors?” the old man replied.
“No, sir.”
“Then best you stay out of the way. I’m just nursing her some. Hoping she’ll last as long as I do, ’cause I plan on being around a while.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t guess you proposed yet, did you, son?”
“No, sir,” Cole said, looking back at the porch and waving to the women.
“You having second thoughts?”
“No, sir. Just worried about the timing. Want to finish this mission,” Cole said.
“Uh-huh.” The old man stopped working for a second and leaned against the tractor and looked Cole in the eye. “Son, do you want my advice?”
At that point, Cole realized how much he missed his parents, who had passed. He stepped toward Hannah’s father and nodded.
“Don’t make my girl wait any longer. She deserves to know your intentions. Her mama deserves to know, too.” Mr. Jacobs said, pointing to the porch with the wrench in his hand.
Cole turned back for another look at the porch. Hannah was watching their exchange with curiosity, seeing the gestures and body movement but too far away to hear their voices.
“I appreciate that advice, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go take care of something.” Cole reached out his hand for Mr. Jacobs to shake and the old man hugged him instead.
Seeing the exchange, Hannah stopped moving her rocking chair, and her mother said, “I told you your daddy likes that boy.”
When Cole got back to the porch, he asked Hannah if she would take a walk with him. She instinctively touched the black pearl pendant.
“Sure.”
“Actually, maybe you could sit out under the tree? I need to grab something.” Out in the backyard, there was a large oak tree with an iron bistro table and chairs underneath it where the Jacobses would sit in the shade and enjoy evening sunsets.
“I’ll grab a couple glasses and some wine,” Hannah suggested. “The Cab?”
“Yes, that would be awesome. See you out there in a couple of minutes.”
Cole went to the bedroom and pulled an eight-by-ten box out of his suitcase. It was a puzzle box. He sifted through the twenty-four pieces looking for four or five specific ones that he shoved in his pants pocket.
Darn it, the only thing missing is music, Cole thought.
He walked out to the tree and joined Hannah at the small table with the bottle of wine. She had also grabbed a small wireless speaker and was playing soft music from her phone.
“What is that?” she asked, seeing the box.
“I thought it would be fun for us to put a puzzle together,” Cole said.
“What?” Hannah really wanted to say, What the hell? She began to question how badly she may have misread the situation. Shit. “A puzzle?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun. Come on.”
“What is this?” Hannah asked, making out some of the pieces.
“It is a photo of us when we were all dressed up for the Gala. I had a puzzle made up from the picture and thought you would like it.” Cole shuffled the pieces around as Hannah sipped her glass and feigned interest while fighting back her disappointment.
“Oh, that’s cute,” she said, finding a corner piece to start. Then she added another. Cole took his glass and leaned back in the chair, watching her work the pieces.
“Aren’t you going to help?” Hannah looked up, seeing her mom at the kitchen sink window and her dad conveniently seated at the kitchen table with a view to the backyard.
“No, I got this for you. I want to watch you do it.”
Hannah placed a couple of more pieces. “Ah, you look handsome,” she said, putting the top pieces together. After a few more, seeing her part of the photo fill out, she added, “I looked quite pretty myself that evening.” She worked a couple of more minutes between sips.
“This would go a lot quicker if you helped out. It’s going to get dark soon,” she said, growing slightly impatient. “Why don’t I just finish later inside? Let’s enjoy the sunset.”
Cole’s plan was not working. “Uhh, I need you to finish the puzzle.”
“What?”
“It’s important to me that you finish the puzzle.”
“OK.” Hannah blew out her cheeks and worked a couple of more minutes. “Looks like we’re missing some pieces at the bottom.”
Cole handed her the pieces individually, and she placed them to make out the caption at the bottom of the photo that read, ‘Hannah, will you marry me?’
Pressing the pieces into place, Hannah gasped. “Cole!”
Cole got down on his knee in front of her chair and pulled out the ring from his pocket. “Hannah, I love you. Will you marry me?”
“You big goofy man, I thought you would never ask. Yes!” He placed the engagement ring on her finger and raised her up from the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed and hugged under the oak tree.
Chapter 31
AIJB Camp North of Al Hazm, Yemen – Present Day
The water splashed over Cole Cameron’s beaten, naked body, awakening him from his deep dream of Hannah and the peaceful east Tennessee mountains where he proposed to her just weeks earlier. The underground cell he lay in reeked with the stench of urine and feces. Flies and mosquitos swarmed around him while other insects crawled along the concrete floor. He saw the two men coming for him and knew he would need to endure another round of torture.
They dragged his body to a separate room, his bare legs and feet scraping over the rough concrete surface. The men attached the chain to his bound hands and hoisted him up so that his toes barely touched the ground. He moaned in pain as his bruised and battered body was stretched. It looked like it was going to be the same routine that he had experienced over the last few days as he saw the picana stick being waved around like a baton in the hand of a drum major in a marching band. His torturers had used the prodding device repeatedly to deliver high-voltage but low-current shocks, enabling them to use it many times in a single torture session. Dragging out the painful ordeal, but less likely to kill him.
Cole recognized the Arabic phrase the tormentor used, and the second man in the room obeyed, throwing another bucket of water over Cole’s torso. The water would increase the wand’s effectiveness, reducing the electrical resistance of the skin. Cole thought of the pastor’s story of Samson. He fought to break free from the chains that held him suspended, but to no avail. He thought perhaps he deserved the suffering and death for all of his sins and for the lives he had taken in the name of his country.
The abuser began the session, this time without even asking a question first. He just pushed the stick onto Cole’s chest, slid it over to find the sensitive area of his nipple, and then pushed the button. The electrical current ripped through Cole’s body, and he convulsed and jerked violently. When the current broke, Cole wailed. His attacker waited a few minutes, then signaled for his associate to adjust the rheostat to increase the voltage. He held the prod out in his right hand and circled around to Cole’s backside. Small burn marks stung up and down his body from where the instrument had been applied too long on the skin. His torturer found an unmarked spot on his lower back and laid t
he prong in position. Cole braced himself for the shock. It came stronger and longer than the last one, causing him to pass out.
Several minutes later, he came to his senses, still suspended by the hoist. He heard the two men speaking. One of them came over and put a black hood over his head. He heard more Arabic, and then a familiar voice he had not heard here before. It sounded as if the other two had left the room, leaving the new person alone with Cole.
“Mr. Cole Cameron, it appears you have suffered considerably. A just reward for your sins against Allah’s people, don’t you think?”
“I know who you are,” Cole mumbled in a groggy voice through his parched lips. “I recognize your voice.” He had listened to thousands of recordings in his study of the AIJB, specifically the ones that spoke English.
“Then let’s dispense with the theatrics.” Jamil Rasul removed the black hood and stood before Cole.
“The Lion admires your courage, Mr. Cameron, but unfortunately you have killed too many of the chosen and must suffer the penalty of death yourself.”
Cole forced his head up to look at Rasul’s eyes. “Then get on with it. I’m ready to die.”
“The Lion is giving that honor to a young Somalian boy from Mogadishu. It will be his chance to show his manhood and prove himself to the AIJB, all while sending a message to the world that the ‘feared’ Cole Cameron and CIA can be defeated by the least of the AIJB.”
“Boy . . . ?” It was all that the beaten Cole could mutter.
“Yes. Why did you leave the boy and his father alive that night after you killed Jawahir?”
Cole shook his head. “Just a boy . . . he’s just a boy. Don’t make him do that. Please, don’t make him do that.”
“The Lion wishes for you to rest before your execution tomorrow. You will read a confession, and then the boy will serve the will of Allah and end your life.” Rasul turned and left. The two other men returned and removed Cole from the hoist. He collapsed to the floor. They dragged his limp body back to his cell. His clothes, a bowl of water, and a square piece of khobz al tawa were waiting for Cole in the grimy cell. He recognized the favorite Aden bread lying on the dirty floor and reached for it but was too exhausted to eat.
After a while, Cole mustered the strength to drink some water, clothe himself, and eat the fly- and gnat-infested bread. He leaned his sore back against the wall. He was thankful, as it seemed he would be clothed for his execution. He thought of the disgrace and shame on the video that was bound to go viral. He closed his eyes and thought of Jess and Hannah. He wept.
✽✽✽
Washington, DC – Wharf District
Hannah held her hair back with one hand and braced herself over the toilet with the other while dispensing another wave of fluids from her stomach.
Shit! she screamed at herself. Just a few days ago, the early pregnancy test revealed two pink lines, confirming her fears and joy at the same time. She didn’t want to deal with this alone.
“Where the hell is Cole?” she said, frustrated with the morning sickness of the last two days and the fact that they never discussed having children. There were a lot of decisions that needed to be made soon. I can’t do this by myself.
Five days earlier, they had their brief exchange over the tablet, and it sounded like he would be home soon, but she had heard nothing since then, and no one at the CTC was responding to her calls, not even Amy. Something didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t just the little alien growing inside her body. Her instincts told her differently, but she forced herself to remain calm. She had been dealing with multiple sources of stress over the last several weeks. In addition to the pregnancy and Cole’s mission, she had career opportunities to navigate and her own caseload.
She touched the black pearl pendant hanging from her neck. It was her way of telling Cole she was thinking of him. She liked to think that when she did that, somehow, through some spiritual or mystical connection, he could sense her thoughts. Just as she often did, finding herself thinking of him for no reason.
“Alright, get it together, girl,” she encouraged herself as she pushed up off of the floor.
✽✽✽
Los Angeles, California – UCLA
Jess completed her early morning workout routine. Since her epiphany, she transformed herself into a morning person, getting shit done before the rest of the world even gets moving, as she put it to her friends who couldn’t comprehend her change in behavior. She called Hannah’s cell.
“Hi, Hannah. I saw that you called last night. Sorry I missed it. Did you hear from my dad?”
Hannah was getting in her car for the drive to the NCTC. “Hi Jess, no, not yet, but I wanted to confirm that you still plan on joining us at my folks for Thanksgiving?”
Jess knew that Thanksgiving was her dad’s favorite holiday. It was more than the turkey and feast or the football games. It was the spirit of the holiday that he seemed to value the most. In her dad’s mind, most holidays were overly commercialized and saturated with media hype designed to take money from your wallet. But at the heart of Thanksgiving, he had told her, was an opportunity to reflect and have gratitude. Something that a typically selfish and ungrateful culture could use some more of. She had informed her mother that any other holidays were fair game, but Thanksgiving would be with her dad.
“Oh yes, I’m really looking forward to it. And are you sure it’s OK for Brittany to come?” Jess asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Great, thanks. Hey, did you and Dad set the date for the wedding yet?”
“No, not yet. Unfortunately, he had to go back out before we could make any solid plans.” Hannah held her hand over her stomach as she sat in her car.
“Well, I guess we’ll know more at Thanksgiving when we’re all together.”
“Alright, Jess. Be careful out there.”
“You too, Hannah. Bye.”
✽✽✽
Virginia – West of Highway 15, Near Highway 733
The white tail of the cream-colored horse flapped as it grazed in the pasture, enclosed by the dark brown picket fence on the Bear’s secluded thirty-four-acre farm. Like most of Gavriil Medvedm’s possessions, the American Cream Draft horse was a rare breed indeed, and his was one of only five hundred that still existed in North America. Katrina Nikolin stood at the fence, watching the horse and thinking of how they had both been bought by the Bear and had served as his proud possessions.
She had learned of Cole Cameron’s capture and impending execution. He had been her best chance to escape the cruelties of the gluttonous bastard. The Bear had forgotten how she had faithfully served him. She was ready to risk everything to be free, and she needed to work fast.
The large black car drove along the long gravel drive against the backdrop of the picturesque equestrian setting, past Katrina to the circle at the entrance of the old farmhouse. Katrina walked over to properly greet the Bear as he exited the vehicle, grunting from the exertion required to maneuver his huge body, giving her the usual hug and kiss and hand across her ass.
“Are you tired, love? Shall I draw your bath before dinner?” Katrina needed him in a good mood.
“That won’t be necessary, but you and I should meet before dinner. I would enjoy very much that special trick of yours that you know I like.” The Bear squeezed her arm tight to send the message.
“Of course. Whatever you desire. I’ll just freshen up and wait for you to join me.”
After the Bear had his way, he was vulnerable, and Katrina began reasoning with him to leverage his power with the Lion and the AIJB to release Cole Cameron. She had the CIA agent in her palm, she told the SVR deputy director, and if she was capable of getting him released, valuable intel would flow from the CTC. Cameron was McCune’s most trusted officer, and with her next career move being the Director of Operations, the possibilities were endless. Surely she would bring Cameron along for the ride, placing him in proximity to the most critical information their country needed to ensure their intere
sts.
The Bear stoked his cigar and considered the possibilities. It would take some effort to convince the Lion to release Cameron. “Bring me my secure phone, dear.”
Chapter 32
Counterterrorism Center – Langley
Nancy McCune received updates and kept the team focused on critical tasks in the den as Cole Cameron’s team frantically worked the intel to ascertain where he was being held. They had moved the field team into Sana’a since the best intel suggested his position was somewhere outside the Yemen capital city. Amy Wiggins indicated McCune had a call on the internal line.
“I’ll take it in Cole’s office,” McCune said, adjusting her suit jacket as she walked around his desk.
“McCune here.” She listened for a minute as her admin assistant, Charlie, gave her some information. As she listened to Charlie on the other end, she picked up the picture frame on Cole’s desk with a photo of him, Hannah, Jess, and Brittany dressed in their formal attire for the Gala. McCune remembered that night and her own trauma and how Cole had rushed and risked his life to save her. She hoped desperately to be able to repay the debt.
Hang in there, Cole, McCune thought, and then asked Charlie to repeat himself. He informed her that she had an encrypted message of the highest priority that she needed to accept.
“Sorry, Charlie. Yes, I’ve got it. I’m on my way up.”
Daphne had requested an urgent meeting, and McCune was torn between the urgency of the requests and the desire to help find Cole. She soon discovered the two were related as she and Katrina met at their assigned spot.
Katrina told her that Medvedm had offered a deal to the AIJB to release Cole to her, but the group was furious at the presumptuous request and they could not guarantee that the Lion would comply. Katrina was leaving soon but wanted assurance from McCune that if she secured Cole, she would be allowed into the CIA’s defector program, given a new identity, and protected from the reach of Medvedm.
