"Hot Dog, you still there?" said the Director. "How much of that did you catch?"
"There's a seventh guy coming off the porch. I'm pretty sure they're leaving."
"They sure as hell are. Hold your position. We're on our way." The Director gave a pep-pat on the tech's back. "Did you get all our frequencies straight?"
"Yes, Ma'am," the tech said.
As she whirled suddenly, the Director almost knocked Ari down. "Sorry. And sorry we couldn't take you up on your suggestion. I'd like to wait for more help, but if these people are as dangerous as you make them out to be, we can't have them running loose in Cumberland."
"I understand," said Ari, hiding his elation.
The next moment, he was alone in the large room with the tech and the sound of voices from the portable speakers. Nazal, the prisoner, and his ninja guard were off in a closed room.
"Oh, hey," said the tech.
"Yes?"
"If you want to watch the game, there's a TV over there. You're the only lucky one here, tonight."
"I'll bear that in mind," said Ari, going to the window, out of sight of the tech. He took out the cell phone Ahmad had programmed for him and pressed the Send button twice.
Against his inclination, he had warned the authorities against going in under-strength and under-armed. They had gone, anyway. Ari was free to run with his plan.
Which was already compromised by the guards in the woods.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Is Ahmad all right?" Ari asked Abu Jasim as he hauled himself painfully into the Sprinter.
"He was five minutes ago. Are you going to pay for the damage to my new van? These rocks are playing hell on my undercarriage and paint. And I bet at some point you're going to want me to go racing all over these awful roads and I'll probably hit trees and—"
"Have I ever lied to you?"
"I don't know," Abu Jasim said. "You're very good at it usually, except when your head is banged up. And you have a habit of leaving out vital facts. Like the time you asked me to take an important message to General al-Hiti. Remember that?"
"Hmmmm?"
"When he opened the letter, it said something about you shitting on his grave."
"I never. Anyway, believe me now. By this time tomorrow morning, you might be very wealthy."
"One of your famous convolutions. 'I will be wealthy if I survive until morning.' Is that more like it? And where will this wealth come from?"
"You'll find out soon enough." He cringed as Abu Jasim swerved sharply onto a back road. "You have great faith in the balance of this vehicle. Now can we get back to Ahmad?"
"I don't know what we can do," Abu Jasim sighed. "He reports that there are two men guarding the road to that beautiful Lexus."
"No one at the van and GT?"
"They've been towed away."
"I need to talk to him."
Abu Jasim took one hand off the wheel and reached into his coat pocket. "Uh, the green one. Just open it and press. His is the only number programmed in it."
Ari pressed.
"I'm still here!" Ahmed answered from his forest lookout. "Are you coming to get me? I think my batteries are dying. I'm getting frostbite."
"Your courage is to be commended. I'll buy you new toes. Can you still see the two guards? Are they changing position?"
"They've come back up the second road. I think they're locking the barrier. They're talking a lot on their radio. They weren't talking so much before."
"What are they armed with?"
"How should I know? They've got guns, all right?"
"Long guns or short guns?"
"You mean rifles? Yeah, they've got rifles. They probably—shit, they're looking this way..."
Ari did not answer. "What do you know about American football?" he asked Abu Jasim.
"The girls run around naked."
"The girls play?"
"No, they just run around naked."
"I'll have to watch a game. The two teams playing tonight are the Indianapolis Bears and Chicago Colts. Remember that, it might be important."
"I think Ahmad said the Bears come from Chicago."
"It's cold up there. It must be very hard on the naked girls."
"Ahmad said they're playing in Miami."
"Ah." Ari lifted the phone to his mouth and spoke in a low voice. "Ahmad?"
"They're looking away now. Jesus, I thought I was fried."
"Since when did you start praying to Jesus?"
"It's just an expression."
"You are obviously familiar with American football?"
"Sure, I watch it all season. Chicago is supreme."
"You shouldn't be watching naked women."
"What naked women? Is my uncle with you? Tell him to get me the f—"
"Ahmad, what do American footballer fans say when the team they favor scores a point. I understand there is much yelling and screaming. Wait one moment..." He pointed at the fire road that connected with Sugar Loaf Road. "Here."
"I know, Colonel," Abu Jasim said. "Did Ahmad say those two guards are still there? What do you plan to do about them? If we get in a gunfight we might lose. And it won't help if we kill them. We'll end up in Fort Knox."
"I'm working on it," said Ari as rocks and gravel banged against the Sprinter. "Ahmad?"
"Yeah, the people yell 'touchdown!' and some other stupid stuff. Why?"
"Stay where you are. We'll be there in a minute." Ari closed the phone. "Stop here a moment. Put on your balaclava."
It had been Ahmad's inspiration to buy NFL ski masks, asserting that it would help them blend in. "And it takes a lot for you two to blend," he said smugly. Ari had grave doubts about the little teddy bear knitted into the crown, but removing them would probably cause the masks to unravel.
They drove on. About a quarter mile down the fire road he told Abu Jasim to roll down his window. "I want you to start yelling 'touchdown!' as loud as you can."
"Say that again."
"Touchdown. Come on, you can say it."
"Hutchdon."
"That will have to do. Oh...get your pistol ready. Now!"
With a wind chill factor of about zero blowing in their faces, Ari and Abu Jasim bellowed out of their windows. As they came up on the secondary fire road, the two guards stepped out, waving their arms. Abu Jasim braked. One guard ran up to each window.
"Who scored?" one of them demanded breathlessly.
"We did," said Ari, pointing his gun out the window. The guard was wearing an unmarked vest. He reached reflexively for his M4. "Don't try testing your armor. I'm aiming at your face."
"Fuck," the guard said.
"Indeed. Now, throw your rifle in the bushes."
"Colonel! That's good money!"
"Yes...all right, place the rifle in front of the van. And that pistol. Is that a dagger I see? That, too. What other ridiculous things are you carrying?"
"I like those helmets and goggles," said Abu Jasim.
"You heard the man," Ari said.
"We heard gibberish," said one of the guards through gritted teeth. It had slipped Ari's mind that Abu Jasim had spoken in Arabic. He translated.
"Those black ninja outfits—"
"Enough! I'll watch them while you...you did bring the zip ties."
"Yes, but I couldn't figure out what you wanted them for," Abu Jasim said, going to the back of the van.
"Contingency, Abu Jasim. I was always trying to beat it into your head." He lifted his head. "Ahmad! You can come out of your shithole, now!"
There was no response from the woods.
Abu Jasim came out with the zip ties and soon the guards were leaning bound against a tree trunk, shivering.
"Didn't I see a blanket in the back? Please, cover these men. I don't want to murder them with pneumonia."
"All that work we did to hide the Lexus," Abu Jasim groused and he went back inside the van. "They found it in two seconds. You oppress me with busywork."
When Abu Jasim came back, Ari to
ok the blanket from him. "Now go see to your idiot nephew."
Ari tucked in the two guards, wrapping the blanket around their shoulders and pulling it down over their legs.
"You're fucked," one of them said.
"So I am frequently advised." Ari said. He gathered up the men's weapons, radios and accessories and put them in the back of the Sprinter. He peered into the woods for a moment, waiting for Abu Jasim and Ahmad, then took out another cell phone.
"Do you know what this son of a mule was doing?" Abu Jasim barged out of the underbrush, dragging Ahmad by his ear, with Ahmad lugging his nightscope and thermos. "He was wearing earplugs...listening to that blasphemous game!"
"My ears are frozen!" Ahmad howled. "Do you know how much that hurts?" Abu Jasim let go. Ahmad shot him a scowl of resentment, then saw the two guards against the tree. "Oh shit."
"Quiet!" Ari raised the cell phone and entered the number Fatimah had given him.
"You are so fucked," said the second guard.
"Shut up, Yankee putrid-ness. " Abu Jasim kicked mud in the second’s guard’s face while Ari walked down the road a bit. He was about to give up when the ringing was replaced by a voice.
"ISAF," said a man.
Ari was so startled that for a moment he was speechless.
"Who is this?" the deep voice said.
Ari tried to collect his wits. Part of him said he should have expected this. The other part said he was in deep trouble.
"Hey, you heavy-breathing son of a bitch, you got something to say? Who gave you this number?"
"Tell Abu Sarhan we are wolf hunting," Ari said, and hung up.
Almost immediately, it began to ring. Ari impulsively threw the phone in the bushes.
"Colonel?" said Ahmad. "Is that someone you know? Or is it someone you don't want to know? Because that phone's got a GPS tracker—"
"Smash it!"
The continued ringing made the phone easy to locate. Ahmad placed it on a rock and came down hard with his heel. The ringing continued. Abu Jasim, in heavy surplus Army boots, came over and put all his weight and strength into a smashing blow. The ringing stopped.
"Are you sure it's dead?" Ari asked.
Abu Jasim brought his heel down a few more times. "I think so."
Ari wondered if he was having some form of seizure. His heart was bouncing from one side of his rib cage to the other. His carefully laid plan had fallen apart at critical junctures, yet he was still at the spot he had hoped to be when he woke up this morning. How was that possible? Was an unseen hand assisting him? Or was good luck forcing itself down his throat? Amazing, how unpalatable and nerve-wracking it could be. He calmed himself by scrolling down his mental outline and ticking off what had been done, and what he needed to accomplished next.
"Get the shotguns out."
Ahmad had been prepared in advance for this moment, which did nothing to lessen his dread. Abu Jasim brought two 12-guage shotguns from the back of the van, handing one each to Ari and his nephew. He started to go back for a third.
"No," said Ari. "I want you to go in after we shoot. If you get into trouble, just pull out your Magnum."
The two bound guards heard this and exchanged worried glances.
"Ah," said Ari. "I noticed you looking at our license plate. Burn that number into your memory."
"He's got spares in the back," one of them said, kicking in frustration.
"Who are you planning to shoot?" the other one asked.
Ari was helping Ahmad with his night goggles and did not answer.
"Colonel," Abu Jasim called from the barrier. That was something he’d missed. He should have told him not to call him ‘Colonel’ in front of strangers.
"Yes?" he barked.
"They’ve replaced the padlock with some combination gizmo."
"Get the bolt cutters."
They had spoken in Arabic, but when the guards saw him bring the cutters from back of the van, one of them sniggered.
"Hah! That’s titanium. Good luck!"
"Hah!" said Ari. "Tell us the combination or we’ll break your necks."
Abu Jasim grasped the English and cracked his knuckles in anticipation. The guards did not have to study his wolfish grin very long before giving up the combination.
"Colonel, these two are going start yelling their heads off the moment we go down the lane."
Ari cursed. Where was his mind?
"Yes, by all means, get out the duct tape."
"Already have."
The guards protested something about being as quiet as church mice.
"I'd be careful what you say," said Abu Jasim as he wrapped the tape around their heads. "We're hunting vermin tonight."
Abu Jasim switched off the van headlights and they lowered their goggles. Ahmad protested that his were too tight. He was roundly ignored. They moved past the barrier and began walking down the lane
"You'll have to get close, Colonel," Abu Jasim instructed. "Your targets will probably be wearing heavy coats. The range on these things is ninety feet, but you'd better cut that in half. Once they're down, we've got twenty seconds to get to them. How many of them do you expect?"
"No less than two."
"You're still thinking of Uday, aren't you? Yes, that old cripple would need help getting around in the dark. But what if it's more? What if he brings all of his men with him?"
"That Lexus isn't made to hold a crowd."
Abu Jasim chuckled. "Always thinking ahead..."
Ari took hold of Ahmad’s shoulder as they walked. "If there are two of them, don’t fire. I’ll take care of the man who needs to be brought down. If there are three, fire when I fire. Take out the man nearest you. If there are more than three, take out whoever you can and let your uncle take care of the rest. We won’t have time to reload."
When they reached the Lexus Abu Jasim released a sigh of regret, as if he had been fully intending to hotwire the car and take off.
Ari signaled with his left hand. There was to be no talking. This had been emphasized to Ahmad earlier. Ari chose a spot for him in the bushes near the front of the car, where anyone who approached would funnel out of the narrow foot path from the house. Abu Jasim crouched next to his nephew. Ari took up a position across the road from them.
He looked at his watch. It was a bit past seven. The Super Bowl had been on for over half an hour. Ari used this as a baseline: it had been a half hour since the Director left the command post; a half hour since Sid Overstreet and others announced their intention to take off for Farmville; a half hour since Abu Jasim had picked him up on Route 60, not thirty yards from where the lone tech sat at his console, the Director having decided everybody available needed to be in the field. By now, Ari thought, gunfire should be rocking the woods, unless the agents were deftly netting suspects as they drove out to watch the game in Farmville.
There was another alternative he had not even considered, because it was inconceivable that the Boss would ever back down. But then he heard cheering within the house. The Boss was allowing the gringos to watch the game, after all. A door slammed and a loud series of thumps echoed over the field, as if someone was dancing on the porch.
Dancing?
"Manning! Manning! Manning!" The joyous chant skittered across the stubby corn stalks frozen in muddy ice. ‘Manning’? Was it a war cry? Were they warning their comrades that the authorities were manning their weapons? Catching movement from the side of his goggles, he faced Ahmad, who was grimacing stupidly and making a throwing motion with his arm. Ari had no idea what he was trying to mime. Did he want a hand grenade? Ari noted the muzzle of his shotgun drifting his way and prayed he would not be shot accidentally. Abu Jasim jabbed his nephew in the shoulder.
Quit fooling around!
Otherwise, the young man appeared to have settled down. The very fact that he did not yelp when his uncle poked him indicated a measure of self-control. It was possible he was beginning to enjoy himself—which was not exactly something Ari desired. The only importa
nt thing he knew about the young man was that Abu Jasim vouched for him. Yet for all his griping, he was adapting remarkably quickly to the life of polymorphic morality. Ari’s world view had been shaped in a land of giant, meaningless symbols: the Imperial Palace, the gigantic Swords of Qādisīyah, the erstwhile statue of Saddam Hussein famously toppled in Firdos Square. That so much misery could be rooted in the vacuous minds of the al-Tikritis and their ilk tweaked and perverted the conscience. The ignorant were cruel, the clever were cruel. And yet it was during the invasion of Kuwait that Ari had encountered a group of Christian missionaries who—for reasons that he could not comprehend—traveled north into the criminal country of Iraq. They told Ari that no matter where they went, Iraqis had treated them with generosity and kindness, and were more than willing to share their meager dinners with them. It was an eye-opening statement. Ari began to notice that in the souks, in the streets, and in homes all round him there were good, decent people. The question then became not how had cruelty triumphed, but how common pleasantness (which might be called the ultimate good) burgeoned upwards and, in its own way, prevailed. By bringing Ahmad into his scheme, was he diverting him from his natural course? Watching Abu Jasim's nephew, his head distorted by evil-looking night vision goggles and the ridiculous ski mask, a sense of guilt swept through him. Once this was all over, he would have to immediately pack him off home to a hopefully better life. And Abu Jasim? He was too wickedly realistic to miss the good in anything. He was fine as he was.
There he went, again. Losing himself in thoughts unsuited to the moment. The same kind of distraction that had almost gotten him killed at Manchester Docks. Of course, he told himself, the only reason he had lost that fight was because he had slipped at a critical moment....
Abu Jasim was signaling him. The field. Shit. Someone was coming. The slushy crunch of boots on fragmented ice could be heard distinctly. Ari leaned forward, peering up the corridor of the foot path to the field at the other end. Faint light from the house clearly marked the opening. Suddenly, the light was obstructed. Someone was on the path. Ari pulled back and raised his shotgun.
"It sounds like a joke," came a familiar voice.
"Why would someone call the major with a joke like that?" someone answered. "But who else knows about Abu Sarhan?"
The Godless One Page 26
