by Camden Mays
McCune turned to the room. “The president ordered an Avenger drone strike on the compound. It’s five minutes out. They’re dropping Hellfire missiles to wipe the place out.”
“What about the asset on location?” Amy asked.
“Expendable collateral damage. No one’s convinced she is really playing for our side,” McCune answered.
“Ma’am, you need to see this!” Walsh yelled from the front, zooming in on the image.
✽✽✽
AIJB Camp North of Al Hazm, Yemen
“Base, this is Rebel One. I have visual on the asset and escort leaving the building.” Capps stared through the rifle scope.
“Copy, Rebel One. We see it as well,” Wang relayed.
“Whoa, whoa! Base, are you seeing this? I have a hostage being escorted by two men. That’s him! There’s a black hood over his head, hands bound in front, but those are the clothes he was wearing that day.”
“Stand by!” Wang quickly connected to the CTC. “Ma’am, we have a visual on Cameron. He’s alive,” she reported.
“We’ve got the same feed here, Rebel Base. We’re working on it.”
Capps squinted, looking through the sniper scope. “Base, I believe that’s Rasul with Daphne, and it’s Cole with two tangos. Gotta call off the strike.”
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center – Langley
McCune turned to Amy. “Get the director on the line. Now!” She looked at the clock. The Avenger drone was two minutes out. Amy handed the receiver to McCune. The entire place was silent, and everyone stood, alternating their attention from the screen to the back of the room where McCune stood.
“Sir, we have a visual on Cole Cameron . . . No sir, he is under a hood. I understand that could be anyone. Sir, they’re getting in the car now. I suggest we delay the strike until they are free from the area. We can have the Predator drone follow the car. Sir, we’re out of time. I beg you. Please!” McCune looked at the receiver. Director Kingman had just hung up on her. She shrugged to indicate to the room that she did not know his intentions. They watched the seconds count down. As the timer hit zero, there were no explosions. The car pulled out of the compound and everyone cheered.
Amy sat back in her chair and exhaled the breath she had held in. “Thank you, ma’am! Thank you.”
McCune nodded. “Now let’s get our man back.”
✽✽✽
Sana’a, Yemen
Wang and Sinha bumped fists and scrambled to keep up with the moving target. Wang ordered a helicopter to Capps and Liski’s location from the nearby oil fields where it had been positioned, waiting once the camp had been observed. The MQ-1 Predator drone followed high in the sky above the moving vehicle as it traveled west from the AIJB camp.
“Rebel One, the helicopter is inbound. Should be at your twenty in five minutes. Pull your gear out and leave the car. We’re looking for a squeeze spot where we can stop the vehicle.”
“Base, we gotta do this right so that we don’t get them killed,” Capps said with unusual excitement in his gravelly voice.
“Calm down. You’re too anxious,” Liski tartly injected.
“Shut up, Matilda!” Capps was anxious. His body was in pain, but he knew his friend was alive and he was determined to take him home that way.
“Who is this Matilda?” the tall, cold-hearted woman asked as the helicopter touched down near their location.
They climbed on board and the machine lifted them in the air. Then the rotors tilted left as they banked off the hillside to keep their flight path low.
The Avenger completed another circle in its holding pattern and then descended for the attack flight path. The unmanned combat air vehicle built by General Atomics Aeronautical Systems released a steady flow of its ordinance payload on the unsuspecting compound. Hellfire missiles and Paveway II bombs began hitting their targets with laser-guided precision, annihilating every structure and sign of life in the terrorist camp.
Capps and Liski witnessed the destruction from the helicopter, three miles east of the camp. The car with Cole and Katrina was about five miles west of the exploding site.
Wang saw the car stop in the middle of the road and feared the worse. “Dammit,” she said, seeing the camera feed of the bombing from the Avenger at the camp. “Couldn’t they have waited until they were out of range?”
✽✽✽
West of AIJB Camp, North of Al Hazm, Yemen
“Stop the car!” Rasul ordered from the passenger seat as the concussing sound of the explosions rattled the car and the billowing smoke rose in the distance. The driver placed the vehicle in park and turned to see the relentless unfolding attack on their secret location. Cole and Katrina were in the back seat with a guard between them. Cole sensed the man next to him turning to look behind them and prepared himself.
“You!” Rasul screamed, triggering Cole and Katrina’s attack.
Cole pulled the hood off with bound hands and reached over the seat back and pulled, choking Rasul from behind. Katrina grabbed the ivory handle of the jambiya from the guard next to her and ran the dagger across the man’s neck, slicing his jugular.
Katrina reached up and attempted to stab the driver at the base of his neck while Cole continued to strangle Rasul. The blade sliced the driver’s face from his chin to his ear. Blood was spewing all over the car from the man’s open jugular in the back seat. In seconds, everyone was covered in red. Cole pulled on Rasul’s neck with all his strength, positioning his legs against seat back for leverage.
The driver stumbled out of the car and reached for his weapon, but the deadly SVR agent scrambled out and kicked the side of his knee, sending him to the ground screaming in pain. In the car, the small-framed Rasul was able to squirm over the seat back, falling on top of the blood-soaked dead man. Cole continued wrestling, but Rasul punched his fractured and bruised ribs, causing Cole to temporarily release his grip.
Katrina took advantage of the temporarily incapacitated driver and positioned herself swiftly behind him. She grabbed his forehead with one hand, circled the blade across his neck with the other, and then kicked his limp body forward.
Rasul crawled along the dirt road, coughing, trying force air through his damaged trachea. Cole fell out of the car covered in blood. Katrina cut the rope between his hands and gave him the jambiya to finish off Rasul. He shook his head and tossed the dagger. No. He wanted to use his bare hands to kill the Lion of Aden, as if fulfilling some prophetic vision.
He staggered toward Rasul, who was on his hands and knees, as the helicopter approached. Cole leaned over the Lion and put his head in a chokehold. Everyone watched as Cole applied pressure with all of the strength he could muster. Liski moved to get out of the helicopter to stop him once Rasul fell limp and unconscious, but Capps held her back.
Cole continued to squeeze Rasul’s trachea, thinking of the torture he had endured, the ridiculous videos the man had released, and the innocent Somalian boy that was now undoubtedly dead because of the bombing. Cole fought off the weakness and lightheadedness of his exertion. He summoned every ounce of strength remaining, driven by a sense of calling.
Another minute passed. Then the world grew silent as he took the life of the Lion of Aden with his bare hands. The silence became darkness as he collapsed on top of the terrorist leader’s body.
Cole regained consciousness as they laid him on the floor of the helicopter. Darryl Capps’s huge head was just a few inches away. Cole tried not to laugh at the man’s grin, knowing it would hurt too much. Capps tried to give him water, but Cole pushed it away and tried to say something as the chopper began to lift off the ground.
“What is it, Cole? What is it?”
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see your ugly face!” Cole said, laughing, then coughing and wincing and moaning in pain.
“Cole, we thought you were dead! We’re going to have to call your little girly and let her know. And Hannah, too.” Capps was laughing and crying at the same time.
“What about Pearl?” Cole managed to mutter.
“We got her out. She’s safe, Cole.”
Cole nodded and gave a thumbs-up.
“I bet your boney ass gets another damn award, and for what? Almost dying,” Capps grunted.
Cole laughed again, creating another stab of pain in his head.
Capps patted his friend’s leg. “I told you we’d get him when we used the Rebel call sign! Cole, we’re going home. We’ll be back in time for some good ole American food. Turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, cornbread . . .”
Chapter 34
Morgan County, Tennessee – Thanksgiving
Sure enough, the Jacobses’ table was spread for the Thanksgiving feast. The table leaf had been extended and chairs brought up from the basement to accommodate the extra guests on this special holiday. The guests all joined hands as Mr. Jacobs offered a blessing from his place at the end of the table. Cole squeezed Hannah’s hand and looked across the table at his daughter, Jess, and her friend Brittany. At the other end of the table, Mrs. Jacobs watched Cole and offered him a smile and a sly nod.
Mr. Jacobs concluded his prayer and everyone began shoveling servings onto their plates. “Dad, who’s playing the Cowboys today?” Hannah asked, trying to ease into a conversation that she was nervous about having.
“I’ll need to check, sweetie,” Mr. Jacobs replied.
“Wait, Mr. Jacobs, are you a Cowboys fan?” Jess asked, passing the bowl of green beans around.
“Yes, young lady, I am.”
“Oh, this ought to be interesting. My dad and I are Washington Redskins fans and—Dad, who is our second favorite team?” Jess raised her eyebrows toward her father.
“Anyone playing against the Cowboys,” Cole said, already biting into his food.
“Well, it will be an interesting afternoon, won’t it?” Mr. Jacobs chuckled.
“Football game or not, we are so glad all of you are here for this holiday with William and me,” Mrs. Jacobs said, smiling. “And Cole, we are so grateful you made it back to us. Like a miracle, I’m telling you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Cole said, trying to slow down his pace of eating.
“Mom, Dad—everyone really—Cole and I have something we want to tell you . . .” Hannah took Cole’s hand.
Everyone stopped eating, and before she could say anything else, Jess shouted, “You’re pregnant!”
Hannah widened her eyes, blew out her cheeks, and nodded. The table erupted. The women screamed that high-pitched noise and Mr. Jacobs had the biggest smile. He grabbed and patted Hannah’s hand as her mother got up from the table to hug her daughter. “I knew it. I knew it. I told your dad I thought there was something different about you! How far along are you?”
“About eight weeks.”
“Oh my God, I’ll have a baby brother or sister!” Jess said. She knew that her dad and mom had lost their second child, and she had always hoped for a brother or sister to grow up with, but it never happened. She was happy for her dad and Hannah, but curious about how it might affect their relationship. But she also understood that she was a woman now and soon would be making her own mark on the world.
Cole looked across the table at his daughter and mouthed, Thank you while the rest of the table continued chatting. Cole didn’t know if it would be possible to love a child any more than he loved Jess, but he had heard that somehow love like that came in abundance and was self-generating. He hoped it was true.
“I’ll help babysit,” Brittany said.
“Thanks, Brittany. I’m sure we’ll need all the help we can get,” Hannah said.
“Now two months ago you two were visiting, and Cole, you proposed right out there under that oak tree.” Mr. Jacobs pointed with his fork. “Helen, I told you I saw some lights out through the trees in our old cornfield that night.”
“William, hush!” Mrs. Jacobs scolded.
“Well, I knew there was somebody parked out there, and you wouldn’t let me go check it out.”
“I knew it was them out there, that’s why I didn’t let you drag your shotgun out or make a fuss,” Mrs. Jacobs said.
Brittany roared in laughter, nearly choking. “So your baby was conceived in a cornfield?”
Everyone was caught off guard. Cole attempted to reply. “Well, we weren’t like rolling around in the field. We were in a rental car and parked it in the field . . .”
“Dad! Oh my God!” Jess said with a disgusted look.
“But it was . . . I mean . . . she told me . . .” He pointed toward Hannah but stopped, knowing he was in deep waters as Jess’s eyes grew large and Brittany covered her mouth to contain her laughter. Hannah held her hand up to her forehead in embarrassment and shook her head. Cole turned red and tried a diversionary tactic. “Mrs. Jacobs, this turkey is so good. May I have more, please?”
Everyone was laughing, and once everyone settled down, Hannah said, “Well, there’s one more thing. Cole and I decided not to wait on the wedding. We thought that since everyone is here, we could do the wedding on Saturday. We have a couple more friends that will come, and I know Aunt Becky was planning on visiting, so we talked to the pastor at your church, Dad, and he’s willing to let us have the ceremony there. We just want to keep it small and simple. We went to the county clerk yesterday to get the license.”
“This turned out to be one hell of a Thanksgiving!” Mr. Jacobs said.
“William, language!” Mrs. Jacobs corrected.
✽✽✽
Washington, DC
Katrina Nikolin waited at the designated, secluded spot to meet with Nancy McCune. She had received her message for the secret meeting and thought that perhaps they were finally ready to begin the process of securing her new identity and moving her to a new location. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep Gavriil Medvedm at bay. While he was a disgusting man, he was also very intelligent and experienced. She needed the CIA to come through on their part of the bargain.
A lone silhouette approached in the darkness with her hands in coat pockets and a purse hanging from her arm. Soon, Katrina recognized the woman as Sasha Liski from the operation in Yemen. “Where’s McCune?”
“She got called to an urgent meeting. The woman never rests. She asked me to come in her place. I’ve got some documents for your new identity. You’ll need to memorize the details in the folder and destroy all nonessential documents,” Liski instructed.
“Understood.”
Liski handed her the manila packet and Katrina opened it to view its contents. She placed her hand in it, shuffling around and pulling out a ziplock bag of solution with the eyeball souvenir that Gravrill Medvedm kept. Before Katrina could react, Sasha Liski was plunging the contents of a syringe into Katrina’s thigh.
Katrina started to scream, but Liski’s gloved hand covered her mouth. “Shh. It will be over soon, my dear Daphne. The Bear says goodbye.”
Her body jerked and convulsed as she looked at her killer, understanding now how it must have felt for Grant Ramsey when he was poisoned. The young, enrapturing Katrina Nikolin joined her lover in the afterlife as her body flopped over on the bench seat. Sasha Liski picked up the ziplock bag and the packet, placing them back in her purse, and made her call.
“It is done,” Liski reported.
The Bear sat near the fireplace and stoked his cigar. “Thank you, dear. Please make sure Dmitry gets the souvenir. Ciao.”
The heavy man thumbed through a photo album of a chronology of Katrina’s life. Pictures from her childhood at the orphanage, her training as a young adult for the SVR, her early assignment to him in North America. He stopped, seeing a picture of her by one of the horses. He would miss the woman’s spirit. Like the horse whose mane she stroked in the photo, she was a rare breed. Then, at the back of the album, he relived one final fantasy that her images conjured up. He touched the erotic and lewd photos and immersed himself in the memories she provided. Finally, he tore the pages out and began tossing them into the fire.
/> ✽✽✽
Washington, DC
The television’s volume was loud so that Congressman Scott Shepherd could keep up with the stories reported on the news station while he dressed. He pranced back and forth in front of the full-length mirror, wanting to ensure his ensemble would impress. Shepherd alternated his choice of ties in front of the mirror, ultimately settling on the red to cast a stronger, more assertive look. He paused his exercise in vanity as he heard the new report.
“. . . the investigation into the death of Darcy Regis, the young Washington Post reporter who fell to her death in August, continues, and police have not ruled out foul play but continue to be very tight-lipped. Rumors have circulated that the FBI has been involved, but we have not been able to confirm those reports. Regis garnered some notoriety on her stories related to Congressman Scott Shepherd and some of the questionable behavior of former staff members, including the now deceased Allen Beecham. We’ll continue to bring you updates as the story develops.
“Finally, in other news tonight, we’ll send you out on your holiday weekend with a feel-good update on a story we’ve been following for the last couple weeks about the decorated CIA officer Cole Cameron, who was presumed to be tortured and killed. His mock execution was released in a horrific video that went viral. Officer Cameron arrived home to the DC area last Friday after a brief recovery in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. He is home safe, and his return certainly made for a happy Thanksgiving holiday for his family and friends. From all of us, Happy Thanksgiving.”
Shepherd threw the remote control at the wall, sending a couple plastic pieces flying across the hardwood floor. His blood boiled as a phone began to ring in his bedroom. He looked at his cell, seeing that it was not his, then followed the sound, finding an unfamiliar phone under his bed. He looked at it once again before answering.
