by J. M. LeDuc
“No one even knew who their captors were or where they were holding them,” Alana said. “All of Israel was in a state of mourning, thinking that they would be killed just as the Lords had said they would. How did you. . . ”
Seven sucked in his lower lip and spit. “The hows don’t matter. What does matter is the rest of the story. The Squad was able to figure out their location. A burned out building on the Israeli side of the Gaza Strip.” He paused to examine her reaction. “That’s why no one else could find them. Since they claimed to be Palestinian, everyone assumed that they would be somewhere in Palestine or at least on the Palestinian side of Gaza. They were able to stay hidden because they weren’t really hidden at all. They were still in Israel.
“Anyway, the squad dropped in from an extremely high altitude, just over fifty thousand feet and we didn’t deploy our chutes until we were below the seven hundred foot ceiling. We were falling too fast for radar to pick us up clearly. That’s how we got in undetected.”
Alana sat erect. “That’s a death drop! There is no way your parachutes could have slowed you down enough to survive a fall like that.”
“Well, we did, but we were all pretty busted up. That same night, Brent and I made a rescue attempt, but found that both members of the Prime Minister’s family were wrapped in explosive. If we had tried to move them even an inch, we all would have been blown to bits. While we were in their presence Brent promised Shari that she and her son would be free by the next day. Hearing him say those words made me break out in a cold sweat.”
Again, he stopped talking long enough to spit. It was just long enough for Alana to interject. “Why did his words make you do this?”
“Because, Brent has never broken a promise he has made to anybody and yet I knew that it was impossible to rescue them without killing them. Before we were called into action, the Prime Minister had gotten word to us, through an extensive network of operatives that he would rather see his family killed by friendly fire than to see them tortured by the enemy. I was sure that was what Brent had in mind.”
Seven could practically see her mind working. She was digesting what he had just said and then exclaimed, “But they were let go in exchange for someone else. Someone who. . . no it can’t be, we saw that person executed on live TV!”
Seven smiled. “The next morning while the three of us slept, Brent slipped out and got a message to the Lords of Palestine. He told them that in exchange for the release of the mother and son, he would give up the leader of the Black Militia. That’s what the world called us. He knew that this was a much greater prize to any terrorist group than even the Prime Minister’s family. By the time we woke up, the family had been released and we watched Brent being marched in front of the camera for the entire world to see.”
“The man that was in front of the camera had a hood on, how did you know it was Brent?”
“Hood or not, you know your best friend and leader when you see him. When we woke up, there was a note where Brent should have been sleeping. It told of his plan and said that we were to bug out and meet him at the Wailing Wall at midnight the next day.”
“But I watched this man beaten and tortured like I have never thought possible,” Alana said. “The terrorist leader said that they were making an example of him, so that everyone would know of their supremacy.” A tear fell from her cheek as she continued to speak. “The next morning all of Israel saw him beheaded on live television. The country mourned for a week for what this man had gone through, for his bravery. The Prime Minister came on the television to personally thank this stranger to his land for what he had sacrificed to save his family.
“Are you saying that it wasn’t Brent that I saw on the television?”
“It was Brent that you saw on the day of punishment, but did you notice that not once did the man under the hood utter even one sound? Through all the torture, not a sound came from under the hood. Did you notice that?” Seven said.
Alana’s tears now flowed freely as she sobbed openly. “I did notice, but I figured that he had been gagged.”
“There was no gag. The Lords wanted nothing more than to hear him scream out in pain. They repeatedly ordered him to give his name and to renounce Israel and the United States.”
“I remember, but I thought that they were saying these things just to toy with him, because they knew he could not answer them. It is not possible that anyone could have undergone what he did and not scream out in agony.”
“I think you’re starting to understand,” Seven said. “Brent was able to put himself in that state that I was talking about earlier where he was for all practical purposes. . . dead. He had gone so deep into his own subconscious that he was able to block out all the pain that was being inflicted upon him.”
“How?”
“I don’t know; he just, does.”
“But even if what you say is true, and I do not doubt you, you can’t sit there and tell me that I did not see him decapitated the next morning. I watched, as everyone else in my country watched as he was dragged up to the guillotine and beheaded.”
“I watched the same thing you did, but I also had Brent’s note telling us to meet him that night. I didn’t expect him to ever show up at the Wailing Wall, but we went there because our commanding officer told us to.
“When Brent stumbled, half dead, up to that wall, it was all we could do not to scream out his name.” Alana opened her mouth to speak, but Seven stopped her. “Don’t ask me how he escaped, because I don’t know and till this very day he refuses to speak about what took place while he was held captive. All I know is that somehow, he was able to come back from that place in his head and kill all of his captors. All except for one. The leader, Brent saved him for the guillotine.”
Alana shook her head in disbelief. “How is this possible?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. He is not like any other man I have ever known. He is different than other men!”
CHAPTER 35
Brent was close by and listening to Seven tell the story. His mind flashed back to the day.
Early the second morning, he had left the note and walked into the Lord’s camp demanding to speak to their leader. He was strip searched for weapons, given a robe to wear and led to Fermin, the leader of the Lord’s. When Brent saw the hatred in the man’s eyes, he knew negotiation was over.
He asked if they might break bread together, a sign of truth and honesty. Fermin agreed.
Brent went on and told him that it was he who was the leader of the Black Militia. He told him of the exact location of the Prime Minister’s daughter and grandson and the predicament that they were in. He told Fermin that he was a great man and that the Lords were greater than the Militia.
“So why are we breaking bread?” Fermin asked.
Brent told him that he would give himself up if the Lords released the two unharmed.
The rebel leader laughed saying that he now had both the women and the leader of the Black Militia. What did Brent have to bargain with?
“If I do not wish to stay, your men cannot stop me.”
Fermin laughed and said, “Prove it.”
Brent stood up and started walking out of the tent. Suddenly six armed men surrounded him. “You do not wish to lose good men,” Brent said.
Fermin’s stare grew icy as he waved his arm, “Kill the heathen.”
Brent shook his head. “You do not need to do this.”
The Lords’ leader, crimson in color, again gave the hand signal to attack.
Brent eyed his adversary, searching out the weakest link. That was the easy part. He continued to engage Fermin in conversation as he made his way toward his target. He turned from the ‘hit squad’ and spoke at their leader and said with disgust, “You don’t have what it takes to be a great leader. A great leader knows a coup when it is given to him. You are just like a pigeon. Always
following, never leading.”
Enraged with fury, Fermin screamed, “Infidel. Kill him!”
Brent’s words had the desired effect of diluting the terrorist soldiers’ attention. They were so busy listening to the words being spoken that they momentarily let down their guard. A moment was all he needed.
With speed and agility not seen by Fermin, Brent leg swept his target, elbowing him in the temple as he fell. Rolling to his left, away from the others, he swept up the discarded automatic weapon and plugged each of the men with a solo death shot to the head, before they had time to react.
He stood, gun pointing at Fermin.
His rival looked back in disbelief. “So, it is true what they say about you,” he said.
“What do they say?” Brent asked walking closer, chambering another round.
“That you are like the wind.”
Brent smirked. “Well the wind’s offer still stands—my life for the lives of the Prime Minister’s daughter and grandson.”
Fermin shook his head, not understanding the gesture. “Why, why would you give your life for the lives of these people?”
“Because,” Brent said, “They are innocent. You and I—we deserve to die. And because I gave my word.”
Still not believing what he was hearing, Fermin continued questioning Brent’s logic. “How do I not know, that you have a hundred men waiting to attack once they are released?”
Brent lowered the gun. “All you have is my word. Take it, and you have captured the most wanted man within terrorism, the Leader of the Black Militia. Refuse it and I kill you, and walk out of here.” He shrugged. “Easy decision.”
Fermin took the bait. A smile as wide and long as the Nile River swept across his face. He picked up the phone and ordered the prisoners brought to him.
Two hours later, they were released unharmed and Fermin announced to the world the capture of the Leader of the Black Militia, stating again and again the superiority of the Lords of Palestine.
Brent was bound, hooded, and put into a box no bigger than a coffin. There, he began the process of lowering his blood pressure, dropping his pulse and respiration rate and going as far back into the recesses of his mind as possible.
It was there, deep in his subconscious, he met and spoke to Jesus.
Standing on a mountain top, Brent opened his eyes and saw a hazy dust strewn vision moving closer. As the dust settled, he knew his Lord and dropped to his knees. Christ told him to focus on his eyes and on his faith and not to speak.
The next thing Brent remembered was being dragged into the town square. Still hooded and bound, he was spat on and rocks were thrown on him. He was called infidel and Satan. Tied to a stake, he was whipped over and over while Fermin asked him questions. He wanted to scream out from the pain, but his focus on the Lord kept him silent.
Over the next three hours, he was electrocuted, caned and cut with ceremonial knives.
Back in his mind, he was still kneeling at the feet of the Lord.
Christ prayed with him and encouraged him to hold strong to his faith. He was told to use all he had been taught to help himself. “Don’t forget,” Christ said, “all things are possible through Me.”
When Brent opened his eyes, he was in a cell. His captors must have thought him too weak to try anything, because he was no longer bound. He knew it was now that he had to make his move. He heard his jailors talking amongst themselves about the beheading that would take place in the morning.
Brent used his teeth to bite the skin on his left forearm. He had stuck a three inch piece of metal between the skin and the muscle two nights before. Pulling it out of his forearm, he bided his time waiting for the men to fall asleep. He picked the lock, got the upper hand on the soldiers and bagged and tagged them.
He made his way to Fermin’s quarters with surgical precision. He had no choice but to kill the men he came across.
The next morning, the beheading occurred as Seven had told.
“What may not seem possible for man is very possible if you believe in The Holy Spirit.” The sound of Brent’s voice startled them to the point that Seven swallowed his tobacco and the other two let out a scream. “Now if story time is over, we have some ground to cover before we reach the Holy of Holies.”
CHAPTER 36
That same afternoon, Joan walked into Maddie’s office at SIA headquarters, “Excuse me Madame Director,” she said, “but I just received a message from Cardinal Bullini’s office in the Vatican.”
Cardinal Bullini. The name sent Maddie’s system into overdrive. Her palms started to sweat and the hair on her head seemed to stand at attention. “Is anything wrong? Did he hear from Brent or Seven?”
Joan saw the alarm in her expression and immediately tried to quell her emotions. “No, nothing like that, he just called to say that his assistant, Father Reilly is coming to Miami to see a sick aunt, and he would like to have lunch with you, Brent and Chloe when he drives through the area.”
Maddie settled back in her chair, her blood pressure restored to its norm, “Oh, um yeah, I guess that won’t be a problem. When does he plan on being here?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well I guess he’ll have to settle for just the girls. We haven’t heard from Brent since he entered the cave system, so I doubt that he’ll be back in time.”
“I’ll let the Cardinal know,” Joan said.
Sitting in a chair in front of Maddie’s desk, Joan could see the dark circles under the Madame Director’s eyes. Maddie was more than her boss, she had become like a mother to her in the past year. The woman she admired the most in this world looked worn out. She had not slept much since the team left days ago.
“You know they’re okay,” Joan said.
Maddie didn’t answer; she just stared blankly at some far off place as if Joan wasn’t even sitting there.
Joan sat. “What has you so spooked? Brent and Seven have been on more dangerous missions than this one.”
“Hmm, oh I’m sorry, Joan, what’d you say?”
She reached out and laid her hand on top of Maddie’s. “Why are you so worried?”
“I don’t know,” she said shaking her head. “I’m just a little on edge. We’ve always been in contact with the squad in the past. I’ll be fine as soon as I hear from them.”
“I know you better than that. It’s something else. What is it?”
“I can’t put my finger on it.” Maddie twisted her wedding rings around her finger. “It’s just. . . it’s just that they’re flying by the seat of their pants. In the past, they always followed specific procedures. On every squad mission, no matter how dangerous or how impossible it seemed, there was always a design; always an escape plan, but this time. . . ”
“This time it’s different.” They looked up to see Chloe standing at the door. “I feel the same way. There are too many variables in place, it’s not like Brent not be able to control the outcome. This time it just seems like—I don’t know—it’s just not the same.”
“It’s this whole Brotherhood of Gaza element,” Maddie said. “The more we learn about them and how expansive their organization is, the more I don’t like it. I think we’ll all feel better once we hear from them.”
The girls just looked at each other and nodded in agreement.
“When was the last time you tried to contact them?” Chloe asked.
“This morning, around seven,” Joan answered.
“Then try again,” Maddie said, “and keep trying every hour on the hour until you get a reply.”
“Brent said that he would. . . ”
“I don’t care what he said. I’m his superior and I just gave you an order,” Maddie snapped.
“Yes Madame Director,” Joan said, standing to leave, “I’ll get right on it.”
“Joan,” Maddie said as her assistant was about to walk out,
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Joan said, “besides, I kind of like it.” She smiled and winked at Maddie as she walked out, shutting the door behind her.
“She really does love you with a daughter’s love, you know,” Chloe said, taking the vacant seat.
“I know,” Maddie sighed, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
CHAPTER 37
Brent slugged down the last drop of bitter coffee as the team waited to hear what he had discovered. “The warnings on the wall weren’t just put there to scare us.” He unfolded the map and pointed, “I found at least three places between here and here, where traps have been set.”
“What kind of traps, Colonel?” Seven asked.
“I’ve got to tell you, I’m impressed with the ingenuity used in setting them. They reminded me a lot of the traps we came across in the jungles of South East Asia.”
“South East Asia? You guys aren’t old enough to have been in the Vietnam War.”
“No, Bishop, we’re not. We were ordered to do a recognizance mission right after the formation of the Phantom Squad. It was mostly political in nature. The government had enough of the rumors that there were still POWs there. We were sent to squelch those rumors, but. . . ”
“But that’s not what we found.” Everyone’s attention was now on Seven, who had completed Brent’s sentence. “What we found was camp after camp of American soldiers who were still held captive by the North Vietnamese. These guys had no idea that the war ended more than twenty years ago.”
“What did you do?” asked Alana.
Seven looked at Brent to see if he should continue. He nodded his affirmative. Seven repacked his lip with tobacco and then continued the story. “Finding them was the easy part. Trying to figure a way to get them out wasn’t. We knew that if we were successful in getting the first camp cleared out, the North Vietnamese would be on us like ants at a picnic. There would never be a chance to get the rest of them.”
