Retrieval

by Ethan Jones

  She began to walk in front of him, but Javin held her arm. He said, “First, I ... I need to finish this...”

  “What is ‘this’? You’re going to take pictures, for your report?”

  “I need to make sure those gunmen are no longer a threat to you, me, and all these people you care about.”

  “Do what you need to do.” Liberty shrugged and turned around.

  Javin cursed under his breath. I should have told her the truth. I should have. But ... this ... all this happened so fast... He shook his head and hurried toward the gate.

  He checked on the fighters who had attacked the camp gate. They were all dead. He took pictures of their faces and bodies, taking close-up shots of any identifying marks, scars, or bruises. Flames were still consuming the black truck; however, the white truck, from where the fatal rocket-propelled grenade had come, was nowhere to be seen. Javin frowned. What happened to them? Why did they leave?

  He drew as close as he could before he felt the heat. The air was thick with the stench of burning flesh and plastic. He took a few pictures, but the thick flames and the black smoke made it impossible to detect anything that could be useful in identifying the gunmen. Javin shook his head and sprinted to the camp.

  A couple of police officers and elderly men tried to stop and talk to him, but Javin waved them away, after handing the rifle to one of the officers. He thought about what he was going to say to Liberty, and how he was going to explain what she had witnessed. Just tell her the truth. Well, the advisor part of the truth … as hollow as that might sound…

  He shrugged and made his way to Liberty’s office. He stopped for a moment with his hand in mid-air as he prepared to knock on the trailer’s door. He did not feel prepared, and the sense of guilt about lying to her overpowered him. Let’s just get on with it… He shrugged again and knocked twice.

  “Come in, it’s open,” Liberty called from inside.

  “I thought you were going to lock the door for safety…” he said as he walked in.

  Liberty gave him a fake smile. “We have a new sheriff who keeps us all very, very safe…”

  “Liberty, I … I need to come clean with you…”

  “All right, go ahead.” She stood up with her back against the kitchen counter and her hands folded across her chest.

  “So, I’m not really a reporter—”

  “Yeah, I’ve figured that out already.”

  “I should have told you earlier, and I was going to—”

  “But you were looking for the right moment, that’s what you’re going to say?”

  Javin nodded. “Something along those lines. Look, at first, it didn’t really matter. But then, as things moved forward and … you know … I wanted to tell you as much as I could. And I was going to, but, I’m sure you remember, the shooting happened and that interrupted our conversation.”

  Liberty nodded, but the grimace did not leave her face. “So, what are you?”

  Javin smiled. “Glad you asked. I’m an advisor to the Iraqi govern—”

  “And what do you advise on?”

  “Security matters. We work together with the police and other militia groups.” He paused as if deciding whether he should continue, then said, “I’m sent on various assignments, depending on the type of situation.”

  “What kind of assignments?”

  “Fact-finding missions.” He meant to say “intelligence gathering,” but those terms rang with clear espionage undertones.

  “And what facts were you looking for when you came to my camp?”

  “The Iraqi government is working to bring peace and stability back to the region. They’re trying to find and capture all the murderous ISIS thugs who have escaped. Our task is to help them in this process.”

  “So, that’s why you were interrogating camp residents?”

  “Right. We focused especially on those who had suspected ties to ISIS or their collaborators.”

  “Like Ghanem and other widows or relatives of jihadists?”

  “Right.” Javin smiled and took a couple of steps toward Liberty. “Look, I didn’t mean to lie to you. But I also couldn’t exactly tell you the truth,” he said in a sincere voice.

  Liberty nodded and gestured with her hand. “What I saw out there, that wasn’t ‘advising.’ You were fighting like a true army soldier. Did you ever serve in the army?”

  “No, but I have gone through extensive training. It’s … it’s part of the package, since we come to dangerous war zones or troubled areas, like Iraq…”

  Liberty nodded again but seemed unconvinced. “Anything else you want to tell me? Something I need to know.”

  Javin shook his head. He hated having to lie to her, but it was part of the job, of the “package,” as he had just finished saying. “No, not really.” At least, not at the moment.

  He moved closer to Liberty, but she sidestepped him. “Javin, this is … this is too much. I need time to think, absorb everything you’ve just unloaded on me. You understand that, right?”

  “Yes, yes, I do, Liberty. Look, we … we started something … something good, that I’d like to continue. I’d like to have the chance to make things right, fix what I messed up.”

  Liberty had turned her back to him and was looking out the window. She nodded, but did not turn her head. “Like I said, I need time and space to think and consider … reconsider…” She shrugged and motioned with her hand.

  Javin translated the gesture as his hint to leave. “Okay,” he said. “I’m … I’m sorry things went sideways… I hope to hear from you soon.”

  “Yes, I have your number.”

  Liberty’s voice rang colder than he had expected, but he did not blame her. I would feel the same if someone I was interested in lied to me… Maybe, I’m not ready for a new relationship … at least not one that starts this way…

  “Goodbye, Liberty.”

  She returned a small hand wave.

  Outside the trailer, Javin thought about the crumpled piece of paper Ghanem’s cousin had put in his pocket. He pulled out the note and straightened it. The address in Judaydat al-Mufti neighborhood. I’ve got to talk to Claudia and Tom. Maybe this is the hideout of the ISIS leaders…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mosul, Iraq

  “Tell me again, what was that idiot thinking of doing?” The police commander shouted in his phone.

  At the other end of the line, Suleiman moved the phone away from his ear. He waited until the commander had finished a long string of curses, then said, “No idea of what he was thinking or doing. But it doesn’t matter. He’s dead, burned to a crisp, along with his renegades.”

  “Are you certain they are all finished?”

  “Yes. I fired the RPG myself. It went through the back of the truck like a hot poker through a roasted lamb.”

  “And everyone was killed?”

  “Yes, they’re all dead.”

  “Did you check the bodies?”

  A moment of hesitation, then Suleiman said, “No. That would have been impossi—”

  “There’s nothing impossible.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Wrong choice of words. It would have been possible, but not smart. It would have given us away. Javin, or whatever the Canadian’s name is, would have figured out who we are, and what we were doing.”

  “No, that was a bad move. A very bad move. He would have seen you were the police, and you could have mentioned my name or that of the governor. Javin knows we are working with a wide range of volunteers and other militiamen.”

  “You’re right. I should have done that.”

  “Yes, I sent you to fix things, not make them worse. Now Javin is probably wondering about these ‘ghost’ fighters who came out of nowhere and then simply took off.”

  Suleiman remained silent. Anything he could say at this point would end up infuriating the already angered commander.

  A few tense moments passed. All Suleiman could hear was the commander’s heavy breathing. Finally, he said, “S
o, how can we be certain that we’ve gotten rid of Asif?”

  “Well, I know for certain that he was killed. I mean, flames engulfed the truck, and no one was moving in or around it. We observed it for a couple of minutes. If anyone was still alive, they would have not lain there. Shrapnel and bullets cut through everything. Asif’s dead.”

  “I’m still not convinced, and the governor will need more than your guesses.”

  “So, what is your order?”

  “I have no orders for you, not yet, and nothing related to Asif. However, Javin is still in the picture. We need to find out why he went to the camp, and what his angle is. The governor wants to make sure he knows what they’re doing.”

  “I will increase surveillance on him and his team.”

  “Yes, about his team: What are they doing?”

  “The woman and the Iranian have gone to the Hayy Al Yarmuk neighborhood. We couldn’t follow them past one of the checkpoints. It would have been too obvious.”

  “So we have no idea what they’re doing there?”

  “I have two men looking into that. They should come back with the results.”

  “What’s in the neighborhood?”

  “Nothing of importance. We’ve cleared that area of Daesh members a long time ago.”

  “Why did they go there then?”

  Suleiman hesitated for a second, then said, “We will find out.”

  “Yes, do that and report some results.”

  The commander ended the call, but his fingers were still clenched around the phone. I sent in Suleiman to finish up Asif, and this is where it got me… If you want something done right… He stood up and headed toward the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hayy Al Yarmuk Neighborhood

  East Mosul, Iraq

  Claudia heard the hollow click of an empty pistol chamber.

  The detainee heaved a loud gasp. His entire body shook. He kept his head down and mumbled, “Don’t … don’t kill me.”

  She let out a deep sigh, relieved there had been no bullets in the pistol. But al-Razi stepped in front of the detainee and pointed the pistol at his face. “Look at me, look, look up.”

  He was speaking in Arabic, but the meaning of the gestures was universal. When the detainee kept his head low and his eyes glued to the floor, al-Razi lifted the detainee’s chin with the barrel of the pistol. He showed the detainee a bullet, then loaded it into the pistol. He cocked the weapon, then pressed the muzzle against the detainee’s forehead.

  Claudia shouted. “No, don’t kill him. He’s of no value to us dead.”

  “Dead, or alive, he’s useless.”

  Claudia held his arm holding the pistol. “Please.” She looked at the interpreter. “Tell him to speak or he’ll never see his daughter. She’ll grow up to be an orphan, dishonored and humiliated, and it will be all his fault.”

  The interpreter remained silent.

  “Tell him,” Claudia said.

  “We’re going the guilt route now that nothing else worked?” al-Razi said in English.

  “Whatever it takes to make him talk.”

  Al-Razi nodded at the interpreter, who still had not said a word. He translated the words in a harsh tone, with disgust and disappointment. At least, that’s how Claudia thought they sounded.

  Whatever the correct translation was, it produced the much-expected result. The detainee looked up with his wide, watery eyes. He began to sob and reached for al-Razi’s arm. The militiaman brushed the detainee’s hand away as he pleaded and nodded.

  Claudia asked, “What is he saying?”

  Al-Razi offered her a restrained smile. “I think your guilt tactic worked.”

  “Did he tell you where Rania is?”

  He did not answer, but asked the detainee a couple of questions in a loud, rapid tone.

  Claudia picked up the word “Daesh” and “jihadi.”

  The detainee nodded and kept saying “yes, yes,” along with other begging words.

  Al-Razi’s smile grew broader. He turned to Claudia and said, “There, I finished the good job you started. He doesn’t know about the woman, but he gave us the location of one of the ISIS leaders.”

  “Is it in the city?”

  “Yes. In Judaydat al-Mufti. You know where that is?”

  Claudia nodded. “When are we leaving?”

  “Right away.”

  He turned to the detainee and pointed the pistol at him. Al-Razi cocked his head and said a few quick words in an angry tone. The detainee nodded again and replied almost as quickly as al-Razi.

  “What are they saying?” Claudia asked the interpreter.

  “The Daesh fighters, they’ve been hiding at this house for a week or so.”

  “How old is this intel?”

  Al-Razi pointed at the detainee. “He was captured four days ago, so at least that old.”

  He spoke again to the detainee and nodded. “Five days, but it could still be accurate.”

  “Yes, and it’s our only lead. Now, let’s call Javin and Tom and get everyone on board.”

  “No time for that. We’re already late.”

  “But we need them; we need all the men we can—”

  “We’ll have enough men.” He pointed at the detainee. “He’s saying there are five, maybe six Daesh members at this house. We’ll have eight of us going.”

  Claudia opened her mouth to talk, but al-Razi gave her a quick flick of his wrist. “We can’t delay any more. We’ve lost enough time already. Plus, if we talk to Javin or Tom, then the Iraqi police will find out. You know I don’t trust Issawi...”

  “He doesn’t have to know—”

  “But he will, and we can’t have that. But you can come, that is, if you want...” He grinned.

  “Of course I want. Do you think I came to Iraq for the scenery?”

  “We have some lovely deserts.”

  “Where?”

  “Toward the east. Maybe I’ll show you one day, once we have peace.”

  “If I live to be that old.”

  “We’re wasting time here. Let’s go.”

  He gestured to the gunman to pick up the detainee.

  The man cast a pitiful glance at Claudia and cried out to her.

  All she could do was return a small shrug.

  Out in the front yard, al-Razi began to give orders to a couple of gunmen. They nodded and ran outside the yard. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “We’ll be in a couple of sedans, so we don’t attract attention, and keep some distance between cars. I’m sure they have watchers in place. The two-story hideout house is surrounded by similar houses.” He pulled up a map in his phone. He zoomed in, then tapped the screen. “Here, it’s this one, the fourth from the intersection. We’ll drive up this road, to the front, then split up. Team One launches an attack. RPGs, machine guns. Indiscriminate fire to push them toward the back. As they try to escape, Team Two cuts them down. Team One then moves in for the mop up.”

  Claudia nodded. It was a simple plan that did not take into account any contingencies, like the teams being discovered before they reached the location. “What’s Plan B?”

  “We don’t have a Plan B. No time to plan or people to execute it.”

  “Javin? Tom?”

  Al-Razi waved his hand. “We covered that already. If we’re discovered as we approach the rats’ hideout, we do the best we can to kill them all.”

  “And if they escape?”

  “We found them once; we’ll find them again.”

  Claudia said nothing for a long moment, but studied the map. She did not like going into an operation without a Plan B or backup. If things went sideways, as they usually did, she would hate to lose the target, considering how long and how much effort it had taken to find him.

  “So?” Al-Razi asked.

  “I’ll be in Team One.”

  “No, that’s the most dangerous place. Daesh will return fire. You’ll be with Team Two, in the back.”

  Claudia wanted to ob
ject, but al-Razi shook his head. “It’s decided,” he said in a firm tone.

  Claudia grinned. “That’s why you don’t want Javin or Tom in this op, so that you can be the one in command.”

  “I’m only looking out for you—”

  “Thank you, but I can look out for myself.”

  “I don’t want you to get wounded or worse…”

  “Right.”

  Al-Razi shrugged. “It’s decided. And don’t try to alert Javin or anyone else. We can do this ourselves.”

  “I won’t.” The thought had crossed her mind, and she had already made plans to tell Javin at the first opportunity she had. As soon as I head to the washroom.

  “Good. Now help us load the cars…”

  “Sure, as soon as I come back from the washroom.”

  “All right.”

  Claudia climbed the stairs leading into the porch. As soon as she was out of al-Razi’s sight, she reached for her phone. Right after she closed and locked the bathroom door, she typed a quick message to Javin.

  Chapter Nineteen

  UNHCR Hasan Sham Refugee Camp

  Twenty Miles East of Mosul, Iraq

  The police commander gave the last orders to the forensic team that had just started to work on the crime scene. As Suleiman had reported, the black truck had been burned to a crisp. Some of the camp residents had trampled the area and had moved the four dead bodies a few yards away. That did not matter too much, as the commander was not really interested in who had committed these murders. He wanted reassurances that Asif was among the dead. A close inspection of the bodies had confirmed that two of them had been close associates of Asif. The other two men were burned beyond recognition. Did Asif send them to do this job in his place? Did he suspect I was setting him up? Is he … is he coming for me?

  The commander lifted his aviator sunglasses and cast a sweeping gaze around. He was not expecting Asif to materialize among the crowds of onlookers that were observing the work of the forensic team. But the commander wondered if there was someone who was keeping tabs on him, someone Asif had paid to be his eyes and ears. The commander himself had taught Asif how to survive. The tables had now been turned, and the commander was trying to slay the monster he had created.