Chapter 78
Margo, Jane, and I had just finished breakfast. We heard a loud pounding on the door. Holy shit, I thought, could this be the raid?
The door swung open and in walked Smitty.
“This is absolutely unacceptable,” shouted Smitty, pointing to our uncovered heads. “Your infidel morality, or rather lack of morality, will no longer be tolerated. You must be covered at all times, including your heads, even when you are in this room. I or one of my brothers may walk in at any time, and we refuse to be confronted with your heathen ways.”
Obviously, Smitty was doing a command performance for the listening devices, but he seemed like he needed to deliver a strong message. Hell, I thought, better from Smitty than from one of the scumbags.
Without saying anything, the three of us immediately covered our heads.
The raid can’t come soon enough, I thought.
Chapter 79
“Rick, it’s me, Smitty.”
“It’s Smitty on the secure line,” I yelled.
Everyone froze because Smitty’s orders were to use the secure line (we hoped it was secure) only in an emergency.
“Things are starting to get dicey here,” said Smitty in a hushed voice. “I get the impression that the boss, Bashara, is itching to start beating the women. He’s only looking for a pretext. He has a reputation for getting carried away. He’s a fucking sadist and he’s looking for an opening. I recommend that you guys be prepared to launch the raid on a moment’s notice.”
Smitty’s messages to us were usually quick and to the point. His editorial comments put us all on edge.
“Okay, guys, lock and load,” shouted Lieutenant Leo. “Be ready to go on my command.”
Thank God it was dark, I thought. At 7 p.m., it was inky black because the moon was obscured by a low cloud cover. It was Thursday, and the raid wasn’t supposed to happen until the following Tuesday, but sometimes you don’t get to pick your own schedule. There was no snow on the ground and that was a good thing. The only real difference was that the SEALs would be attacking a houseful of people who were awake. Awake and armed.
Both Bennie and Buster walked over to me.
“I can only imagine what you’re going through, Rick.” Bennie said. “Just remember, pal, you’re not involved in this operation. Let the SEALs handle it. They’re better at it than you. They’ll keep Ellen safe.”
Buster handed me a glass of milk.
Chapter 80
The MacPhersons and I had just finished dinner, and we agreed to play Cheater’s Scrabble later. Jane walked over to the cupboard and reached up high to get a new tin of coffee. As she reached, her upper arms squeezed against the hood of her burqa, causing it to fall to her shoulders, exposing her long blonde hair. The scene was picked up by one of the monitors on the wall.
A sudden pounding on the door scared the hell out of us. A guy who Smitty had told me was the boss man, Bashara himself, walked into the room followed by one of our handlers carrying a pistol. I recognized it as a Colt 45 because Rick has one. Smitty had told me bad things about Bashara. If there was such a thing as a face that said “cruelty,” his was that face. He smiled, he actually smiled, while he narrowed his eyes.
“So you have decided to disobey my command and show us your heathen ways,” said Bashara as he held a lead pipe, smacking it against the palm of his left hand. “You women are infidel scum, and you are about to learn the way of righteousness.”
He walked over to Jane MacPherson and smacked the pipe right across her pretty face. Margo screamed and got out of her seat. The assistant held his gun to her head. Bashara then took a full swing with the pipe across Jane’s knees, causing her to fall face down to the floor. He then held the pipe over his head with both hands, and brought it smashing down onto Jane’s shoulder blades. He held the pipe over his head again, positioning himself to deliver another crushing blow.
At first I felt numb, then scared, then petrified with fear. But anger started to muscle out those emotions. I was watching a lovely young woman being savagely beaten by a sadistic prick. My mind was consumed by one thought – I’m going to stop this. If my life ends there, so be it. I’m going to stop this bastard. But how?
“Hold on, please,” I yelled, holding both hands to my mouth, channeling my inner actress. “I have to throw up.”
“Do not delay, infidel bitch, I want you to see this.”
I ran into my room, reached under my bed and picked up the AK-47. I made sure that the gun was in firing mode, placed it into a fold of my burqa, and slipped the extra clip into my bra. I walked back into the room. Rick’s training on assault rifles came back to me – shoot the man with the gun first. I lifted the AK-47 fired a short burst at the gunman, as Rick had trained me. I then fired a burst at Bashara, who held the lead pipe over his head, poised to strike Jane again. He fell to the floor. Margo reached down and took the assistant’s pistol and expertly pulled back on the slide, racking a bullet into the chamber. Holding the gun barrel pointed up like a trained cop, she ran to Jane and stroked her hair.
“Be still, honey. Ellen and I can handle these scumbags.”
Bashara groaned. I knew I hit him with at least four rounds, so it must just have been his lungs expelling his last breath. Margo walked slowly over to him, leveled the gun, and blasted half of his head across the floor. A Colt 45 is like a small cannon, I remembered Rick telling me.
“I didn’t want the poor dear to suffer, Ellen,” she said.
Funny how you remember things at the oddest times. I recalled seeing a photo of Margo MacPherson on the cover of Vanity Fair next to an article titled “The Most Elegant Woman in America.”
***
“Bring it on, bring it on, bring it on!” we heard Smitty yelling into his radio from down the hall.
We heard running footsteps. “Is that you, Smitty?” I screamed.
“Yes, I’m coming into the room.”
Smitty walked in, his rifle held down. He looked at Bashara’s body next to the assistant.
“Holy shit,” said Smitty. “I’m glad you ladies are on my side.”
He held up his finger to his lips and said, “Quiet!”
He looked up at the ceiling. We could hear footsteps.
“I’ve got footsteps above me, section A3,” Smitty said to his radio. Section A3? Wow, these guys had really prepared, I thought.
“They’re friendlies,” shouted Lt. Leo into his radio. “Hold your fire, Smitty.”
Smitty shushed us again. “Our job right now is to listen.”
We heard two bursts of gunfire upstairs, followed by thuds. I prayed that the thuds weren’t SEALs. We then heard footsteps running down the hall. Smitty jumped into the hallway, dropped to a knee and opened fire. We heard a thud.
“Sections A3, A4, A5, and A8 are secure,” we heard somebody yell over the radio. “Smitty, Give me a count from your position.”
“Two down in A3, and another in the hall,” said Smitty with military precision and calmness.
“Okay, I’ve got a total of eight, which means there’s one more to go,” yelled Leo.
We heard a burst of gunfire outside toward the front of the house. Leo [AB37]looked out at the driveway and saw the man lying on the ground with a SEAL standing over him.
“Make that zero, the number we’ve been looking for,” shouted Burton. “All the enemy are dead. Operation Betsy is a success, thanks to Smitty and my SEALs.”
“And thanks to a couple of tough women in section A3,” said Smitty. “I need medical assistance in A3.” he yelled into his radio.
Bennie Weinberg came running into the room. As a psychiatrist, he was also trained in internal medicine. I knew Bennie had an army background, and it was obvious that he was accustomed to trauma scenes as he approached the beaten and broken Jane MacPherson.
He dictated into his recorder as medics entered the room to take Jane to the hospital.
“I see a fractured clavicle and scapula on the left side, two orbital
fractures to the face and a nasal fracture. Knees look bad, possible patellar fractures to both. Edema at all fracture sites. I’m going to poke you a bit, honey. It may hurt. Just tell me what you feel.”
Bennie poked, pressed, and prodded Jane MacPherson and finally announced to us and his dictating machine, “The good news is that there are no apparent internal injuries, just the orthopedic ones I mentioned.”
Bennie stood as the medics lifted Jane onto a hospital gurney.
“What happened to them?” asked Bennie, pointing to the bodies.
“Let’s just say their women beating days are over,” said Margo as she put the gun on a table.
Bennie took out his dictating machine again and said, “This is Dr. Weinberg with an addendum. The scumbag who did this is dead. End of report.”
***
We heard loud footsteps coming quickly down the hallway.
“Oh shit,” said Smitty, “did we miscount?”
He held up his rifle and stepped into the hallway. “Freeze!” we heard him scream.
“My name is Rick Bellamy. You must be Smitty.”
Smitty walked back into the room, smiled and said, “Mrs. Bellamy, there’s a gentleman here to see you.” It was Rick. Oh my God, it was Rick.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Not since your last video.”
“Just hold me,” I said. “I just want to feel you against me. I thought I’d never see you again.”
I nestled my face into his chest and started crying. Hey, I’d held it in long enough – time to let my emotions be honest with themselves. I really thought I was going to die while in captivity. Holding Rick was almost surreal.
We continued to hug, forgetting that we were in a room with about ten other people and a couple of dead bodies.
Margo MacPherson walked over to us. She extended her hand to Rick.
“Hi, I’m Margo MacPherson. You two should get a room.”
I laughed and said, “Soon enough, Margo.”
Angus MacPherson walked in. Rick told me that he alerted Angus as soon as the raid started. He actually broke down crying, something I couldn’t imagine from Angus.
“Margo, it’s been many long months. You look more beautiful than ever, except for that thing,” he said, pointing to her burqa. “I just saw Jane being wheeled to the ambulance. I told her we’d see her at the hospital. My helicopter will take her to Columbia Presbyterian. The chief of orthopedics is a good friend of mine.”
He then turned to me.
“Lassie, you saved the lives of my girls. Jane told me all about it as they were putting her into the helicopter. You’re more than I ever expected from an architect. By the way, are you willing to go forward with the plans for the shopping malls – the plans you’ve wanted all along?”
“I’ve got the rough drafts done, and I can finish the finals in no time.”
“Oh, I should mention to you, lass. I’m giving you a wee bit of a bonus – five years’ worth of the estimated losses you’re saving me with your plans. That comes out to be about $18 million. And I’ll make it clear to your partners that the bonus is for you, not for the firm.”
I gave Angus a hug, then looked at Rick and said, “That should cover a few bills.”
Sometimes I say the lamest things when I’m feeling emotional.
***
The scene of the recent violence was quickly turning into a party, thanks to the booze wheeled in by Colonel Mark Drury, the next-door neighbor and hero who Rick had just introduced to me.
“Your husband is one hell of a guy. I’ve had a first-hand view of the stress he’s been going through, knowing that you were only a couple of hundred feet away. This man loves you deeply.”
I started to feel weepy again, but I just gave Colonel Drury a hug.
“I hope you have an appetite because I just called a terrific caterer,” said Drury.
“If falafel is on the menu, Colonel, I will shoot you.”
“Buster,” I yelled as my favorite spook walked into the room, “you can take the worried look off your face now.”
“Worrying is a spook specialty,” he said as he gave me a hug.
“Hey, Rick,” said Buster, “how about a glass of milk.”
“Actually, I think I’ll have a martini.”
At my suggestion, we all moved into the sunken den, the largest room in the house. Call me old fashioned, but I just don’t like partying around dead bodies.
***
FBI Director Sarah Watson entered the house. She immediately walked over to Rick and me and gave each of us a hug.
“As you know, Rick, our country is facing an ongoing crisis. President Reynolds calls it World War III. But I want you two to take a vacation. With the horror you’ve both been through in the past few weeks, I don’t want you to burn out. We’ll have a quick debriefing at Federal Plaza tomorrow and then I want you guys out of here. So find someplace nice. Relax, read romance novels, and just be with each other. Your country owes you some time off.”
Just before midnight, Rick and I said goodbye to our fellow partiers. We took a cab to our apartment. We had some catching up to do.
Chapter 81
When Ellen and I got back to our apartment, we walked in the door, and Ellen put her arms around my neck.
“Now where were we?” she said.
We each took a shower and met in the living room. Ellen, God bless her, was wearing nothing but one of my men’s white shirts, which always drove me crazy – and that was where we left off before she was kidnapped. She sat on my lap. I blew a breath on her neck, which she loves.
“The thought of never seeing you again almost killed me,” I said. “The past few days tore me up. Lean over, let me smell your skin. The night you were taken from me is a memory I need to get rid of. It was like the life was squeezed out of me. You know how much of a control freak I am. Not knowing where you were and not knowing how to find you was an experience I want to banish from my brain.”
Ellen rested her head on my shoulder.
“Hey, tough lady, you were the real hero tonight.”
“If some jerk hadn’t left that AK-47 out in the open, Jane may be dead. I have no doubt that Bashara, that sadistic bastard, would have started on me and Margo as soon as he was done with Jane. I never shot anyone before. Hell, I never even aimed at someone. But killing those two bastards doesn’t bother me a bit.”
“That’s you, Ellen. You care about people, and you put your life on the line for Jane MacPherson. The guy with the gun could have popped you as soon as you walked into the room.”
Rick, if you saw what Bashara was doing to that poor girl you wouldn’t say that. He made it impossible for me not to do something. I had to help her.”
She nuzzled her nose behind my ear and kissed me on the neck. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted the feeling to linger as long as possible.
Exhaustion overcame us. Although we both expected an evening of love-making, we both nodded off as we sat on the couch. I picked Ellen up, carried her to the bedroom, and rested her on the bed. As I climbed in next to her, she mumbled, “Abuvouoney.” I think she wanted to say, “I love you, honey.” She fell fast asleep, and within moments, so did I.
***
“Stand down, motherfucker!” Ellen screamed as she sat bolt upright.
“Easy, babe,” I said as I pulled her close to me. “It’s just a bad dream, I’m here with you.” She fell back asleep.
“Margo, duck!” Ellen yelled a few minutes later, holding my hand and pointing it at the wall as if it were a gun. She was sitting up again. I held her again as she sobbed. Ellen was sweating like a pitcher of ice water on a hot summer day. I got up to get a towel to dry her off.
We both slept fitfully through the night. I thought Sarah Watson’s idea of our going on vacation was a good one.
Chapter 82
Our debriefing with FBI Director Watson began at 11 a.m. I knew I had to be aler
t because this was an important meeting, but I had little sleep. Okay, time to focus, I thought to myself.
“I’m going to say something that I’m sure Director Carlini of the CIA would say, or President Reynolds himself would say for that matter. Last night was another battle of World War III, a successful battle, thanks to a platoon of brave Navy SEALs, thanks to the careful planning by Rick and Buster here, and also thanks in no small part to Rick’s courageous wife, Ellen. Rick, you married well.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Madam Director.”
“But this was only one battle,” Watson said. “The enemy wants to kill us, and to do it constantly. A new phrase has crept into our vocabulary, ‘TV Fear.’ When we wake up in the morning, most of us click on the television to catch the weather and the morning news. Now we’re afraid to hear about the latest terror incident. Make no doubt about it, folks, al-Qaeda, ISIS, and the legions of lone wolf terrorists are starting to have an impact on American society. People are afraid to commute, afraid to walk into their buildings, afraid to take a cruise. And if it weren’t for the operation last night, al-Qaeda would have pulled off a spectacular event next year, an event that would have made people afraid to go to a shopping mall. It isn’t my purpose today to sprinkle cold water on the well-deserved celebration last night – and it was a hell of a good party. Rather it’s my purpose to keep us thinking about things that we don’t know about, things that haven’t happened yet. With people like Rick from the FBI and Buster from the CIA, we have great leaders in this war effort, and we need more. We need ears to the rails, boots on the ground, eyes open. Both Buster and Rick are working on exactly that.”
She poured herself a glass of water. This lady gives a hell of a speech, I thought. She said all of the right things and said them with authority. I was proud to work for her.
The Shadows of Terror Page 15
