by Lisa Pietsch
Gino leaned in and whispered something to Will.
Will nodded. “Sarah is going in tomorrow morning to locate Vince and do a recon of the compound. With any luck, she’ll be back tomorrow night with the intel to plan the attack. Until then, get plenty of rest and stay under cover. If you have any questions, find me, or Brian, the tall guy with the tan.”
Brian gave a brief wave to identify himself.
“You can also find Chris, the guy with the computer, or Jason, the guy over there with the weapons and the crazy look in his eyes.”
Jason looked up from an M16 rifle he was function checking. His cigarette hung from his lip and he smiled a half smile.
“We’ve got MREs and water for everyone over there.” Will pointed to the far corner of the tent stacked with cases of water and military-style meals ready to eat. “Carry on.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Just a sliver of a moon made eerie shadows in the camp as Sarah walked to the Blackhawk and grabbed her small duffel bag packed with abayas and a set of Kunai throwing knives. She slipped one of the abayas over her T-shirt and black battle dress pants and left the SIG 45s on her thighs. Brian and Gino pulled the camouflage netting off one of the trucks. Hamza and Brian’s other two cousins hopped in the back while Sarah sat in the front between Brian and Gino.
After driving about a mile and a half on what could barely pass as a path, Gino broke the silence. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, girl? Those Russians play for keeps.”
Great. Yet another chauvinist pig. I’m so tired of dealing with these macho fuckers.
Sarah would never get used to being underestimated by everyone she met. She knew Gino had helped them out, but his tone was like fingernails on a chalkboard. “I appreciate what you’ve done for us, but this isn’t a game and I’m not playing.”
Brian interrupted before the conversation degraded any further. “Gino, I was on the SEAL teams for fifteen years so I get where you’re coming from, but Sarah’s been trained by some of the best, including Jason, and has some pretty impressive operational experience. I’d trust her to have my back no matter what goes down.”
“That’s cool but can she handle going in undercover like this? From what I hear, this guy isn’t very good to the help.”
Sarah stopped Brian before he continued. “Thanks, Brian, but I don’t need you to defend me to this guy.” Sarah turned to Gino. She was ready to pop and this guy looked like he could take it.
“I am not playing spy here, I am one. I’m not some JEEP just out of training hot-dogging it. This is what I do, and I seem to have done it pretty well up to now because I’m sitting here in this truck with you and not six feet under.”
Gino seemed to inch away from Sarah and closer to the driver’s side door.
She lifted the skirt of her abaya. “In case you’re wondering, these are 45s strapped to my thighs, they’re loaded, and I know full well how to use them.”
Gino shot a confused look at Brian.
Sarah never took her eyes off Gino’s face. “I’ll also carry three kunai knives strapped to each calf when I go in. Nine times out of ten, I hit my mark even with distractions. So, yeah, I know what I’m getting into. Thanks.”
Gino appeared confused and looked across Sarah to Brian as though he couldn’t believe it unless a man said it.
Brian nodded. “I tried to tell you. She’s the real deal, man. Do us both a favor and don’t piss her off again.”
“Good enough.” Gino drove the rest of the way in silence.
They traveled into a small town that was more a collection of small, walled compounds. Dogs barked in the dark and a dust devil would spin up in the headlights every few minutes but there were no people to be seen.
Gino pulled up to one of the concrete walls and everyone exited the truck.
Sarah sighed with relief to be out of the cramped cab, so close to someone she could easily take her frustrations out on.
Abdullah, one of Brian’s cousins who’d ridden in the back of the truck, led them to a door around the side of the small walled compound. He opened the door and bowed slightly to Hamza who walked in first.
Sarah watched as the family politics played out in the small parade. First Hamza, then Brian and Sarah, followed by Gino, Muhammad, and Abdullah.
Sarah took a visual stock of the small dusty yard. Date, olive, and citrus trees, a small henhouse and a large water tank—all things necessary for survival in Saudi Arabia’s Empty Quarter—were laid out around a concrete patio. The chickens were quiet but a Saluki dog trotted out of the shadows and nudged Hamza’s hand with his nose. Hamza rubbed the dog’s chin and continued walking toward the house.
A soft glow of light from the windows shone golden onto the patio.
Sarah’s stomach rumbled and growled. The welcoming scent of saffron, rice and chicken hung heavy in the still air of the courtyard as they stepped up to the patio.
An older woman opened the door for them. She wore a black abaya as was proper for the mixed company of family and foreigners. Abdullah introduced her as his mother, Samara. She welcomed each of the visitors graciously in Arabic as they entered.
Sarah stepped inside to see three teenage boys and a young woman watching her. Their curious looks were amusing after Gino’s line of questioning on the ride in.
The entry room was small and seemed to be the traditional room for entertaining with low, upholstered benches lining every wall. Though it was small, Sarah estimated they could probably fit about twenty people comfortably. They most likely had family meetings or audiences in this room.
Samara led them into a large dining room devoid of furniture where the floor had been dressed with a tablecloth and a small feast had been laid out. A huge platter of saffron rice served as the centerpiece, surrounded by platters of grilled meats, meats in sauces, crusty flatbread, vegetables, and fresh fruit off the tree.
Sarah tried to ignore the sound of her stomach and hoped that nobody else heard it, until Brian eyed her and gave her a playful wink. Apparently, he heard it over the chitchat of the women and teens.
Hamza said something quietly to Brian and then Brian turned to Sarah. “Generally the women and men eat separately when entertaining but because I’ve filled them in on you and we need to discuss the plan with all of them, the women will be eating in here with the men tonight.”
Sarah nodded, aware of the cultural allowances they would be making, and whispered back to Brian. “I don’t care where I eat so long as I do it soon. I’m starving.”
Abdullah, the head of the household, introduced the entourage to his sister, Bashira, and his three much younger brothers.
They all seemed more than a little surprised and somewhat pleased when Sarah addressed them in Arabic. She could see why her language skills had been a big plus in her selection for her job with the C.I.A. Her Russian and Arabic had certainly been coming in handy as of late.
Even in an abaya, Bashira was a beauty with flawless olive skin and unadorned almond eyes. Probably only in her twenties, there was something of the slave about her. The bruise on her cheek was a dead giveaway.
In her years as a cop, Sarah had seen women who had been abused and that was the same look she saw in Bashira’s soft brown eyes. Her heart went out to the poor young woman who had been born into a hard life that was probably made harder by mistreatment.
Sarah respected the traditions of the land and spoke only when spoken to at dinner. When the women rose to clear the empty dishes, she rose to help as well.
Bashira insisted she remain seated.
Coffee was served and the men took out cigarettes as the women returned and sat quietly.
Sarah looked questioningly to Brian. She didn’t want to offend her hosts and knew the Arabs, especially the rural people, took male and female roles very seriously. She knew quitting smoking would be a good thing for her, but not here and not now.
He nodded, indicating it was all right to blaze up if she wanted to
.
With some relief, she pulled her cigarette case from a cargo pocket and took one out. She remembered the custom from her military assignment in Turkey and passed the cigarettes around as a courtesy. They all took one. The younger boys seemed especially impressed.
Hamza took much interest in the gold case engraved with delicate scrollwork. When Sarah offered it as a gift, he protested but she insisted and he seemed quite pleased with the expensive trinket.
As they sipped their coffee and smoked Sarah’s cigarettes, they discussed their plan to destroy Nikolai. Samara and Bashira sat quietly in a corner and listened.
Abdullah spoke first. “I take no pleasure in watching you go to that place after what my sister has suffered at the hands of Nikolai’s man.”
Sarah looked at Bashira. “May I ask what happened?”
Bashira’s eyes glistened with the threat of tears, and she looked down at her knees.
Abdullah spoke for her. “The worst thing a man can do to a respectable girl. She has been soiled. No man will have her now. She cannot marry.”
Sarah took a deep breath and swallowed back the rage building inside over the rape of an innocent. She bent her head and covered her face with her hands for a moment as she composed herself. She gazed at Bashira, who held her head down in what must certainly have been shame. “I am so sorry. Bashira, I promise you will never have to go back there again.”
Bashira looked up at Sarah, eyes wet with uncried tears. A simple nod was all they needed between them.
“But what can you do that she couldn’t?” Samara’s loud and anxious voice surprised Sarah.
Sarah smiled at the older woman and without words she reached under her abaya to produce the SIG forty-fives.
Bashira gasped. “Muharib.” She slapped her hand over her mouth.
Sarah understood the whispered word meaning ‘warrior.’ She smiled at Bashira and nodded.
She laid the handguns on the floor in front of her and reached under the abaya again to retrieve a stainless steel throwing knife from the scabbard tied around her leg.
The men passed the SIGs around, admiring them and speaking the international language of men who respect firearms. Then they passed around the knife. Muhammad, who apparently questioned the ability to do damage with such a small knife, ran his finger over the blade and cut himself. A surprised grunt escaped his lips and his brows furrowed as he stared at Sarah, probably unsure what to make of the bold American woman who knew their language and customs and promised payback for his kinswoman’s rape.
Brian assured the men Sarah knew full well how to use the weapons.
They nodded approvingly.
Once the weapons made their way back to her, Sarah holstered the SIGs, wiped the blade with her abaya and tucked the knife back into the scabbard.
The looks of admiration from Bashira and Samara were unmistakable.
Muhammad yawned and Hamza nodded to Brian. “It is late and the women have work to do in the morning.” The men stood and Sarah followed suit.
Brian gave Sarah a hug. “Watch your ass in there. They’ve probably roughed Vince up. Just remember he’s a tough S.O.B. and don’t let that temper get the best of you.”
Sarah bit her bottom lip and breathed deep. “We can do this.” It had been easier to think about the plan and prepare for battle than to think about what Vince might look like when she got there.
Brian released her from the hug and his eyes sparkled. “We can do this.” He glanced around the room, seemingly making a head count, then turned to Sarah. “Okay, we’ll drop Gino off at his quarters and then Hamza, Abdullah, Muhammad, and I will stay at the Bedouin camp with the rest of the guys. You’ll walk to Nikolai’s with Samara in the morning. Jason will pick you up tomorrow night as planned, as soon as you leave Nikolai’s compound. Got the camera?”
Sarah patted her front pocket through the abaya and nodded.
“And no chatting with Chris while you’re inside the house. Too risky.”
Sarah tapped her ear. “I know. Radio silence. No worries.”
Hamza, Abdulla and Muhammad each gave Sarah a deferential nod before leaving.
After the men drove off, Bashira and Samara showed Sarah to the room they shared. The room was Spartan with a full sized bed being its only furniture. The three of them were crowded in the bed together. Sarah was too exhausted to mind. She had a belly full of good food and would see Vince tomorrow. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A light hand shook Sarah’s arm. Groggy after a night of terrible dreams, she looked to the window. It was still dark outside, but Samara assured her it was morning and time to go to work.
Butterflies burst into action in Sarah’s stomach.
Today I’ll finally see Vince. Today!
Sarah jumped out of bed, ready to finally take action.
Samara left the room, but Bashira sat up in the bed and quietly watched Sarah prepare.
She slipped on her boots, laced them and stuck the Ka-Bar knife in its hidden scabbard. She pulled the two small nylon knife cases from her duffel bag and strapped one onto each calf. She pulled one of the shiny, stainless steel kunai knives out, held it up to the light and smiled at Bashira.
Bashira returned the smile.
Sarah picked up one of the SIGs, ejected the ammunition magazine, locked it in the open position, and eyed the barrel to be sure it was clear. She smiled, pulled the trigger, and slapped the magazine back in before holstering the loaded weapon. She did the same with the second handgun. She plucked two more ammunition magazines from her bag, checked to be sure they were full, and tucked them into a front pocket of the cargo pants under her abaya. She hoped she wouldn’t need the weapons today but felt more secure knowing she had them.
She walked out into the kitchen where Samara had made coffee.
She handed Sarah a small cup of the strong brew and then handed her a plate of bread and fruit left over from the night before.
Sarah thanked her and ate quickly. Her hands were shaking with excitement about finding Vince. She couldn’t get there soon enough.
Samara placed a calming hand over Sarah’s. “He is well. They have him in a bedroom upstairs. He is comfortable.”
Reassured by Samara’s calm voice, Sarah smiled a grateful smile. “Yes, but for how long?”
“They will not kill him yet. They think he will choose to do business with them. What you do need to worry about is the big Australian.” A shadow came over Samara’s face. “He is a terrible and cruel man. He will be rough. Be careful.”
Bashira entered the small kitchen as Samara spoke.
Sarah saw the desperate look on Bashira’s face and anger rose hot and hateful inside her. There were many things that could be forgiven, but rape would never be one. “He’ll pay for what he’s done. I promise you that.”
“It is time to go.” Samara stood and prepared to leave.
Sarah flashed Bashira a smile and gulped down the last of her coffee.
No matter what her mission might be, when Sarah was on the job, she always knew Chris had her back…well at least in a technological sense. Sarah wore a tiny earpiece the size of a pencil eraser that enabled her to communicate with Chris. She never went into an operation without making sure Chris was with her. “Chris, can you hear me?”
Chris cleared his throat. “Loud and clear, sweetheart. Good morning!”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I woke you up again, didn’t I?”
“I consider myself one of the honored few.”
She smiled at the compliment. “Flatterer. Hopefully we find Vince today. Samara said they’re keeping him in a bedroom upstairs.”
“Good luck. Call when you get a fix or if you need the cavalry. We’re standing by.”
“Thanks. I will.”
~~~
They saw Nikolai’s compound long before they came near it. High concrete walls kept the desert from swallowing it up. They walked nearly a mile before they r
eached the large wooden gate Sarah had seen in the satellite photos.
Sarah examined the ten-foot concrete wall of the compound as she walked through the gate. She kept her head down in an attempt to avoid raising any suspicions in the sleepy looking man posted at the gate. The wall was at least two feet thick, and the house was probably twenty yards away from the gate, providing a nice clear zone in case anyone tried to blow the wall or the gate open.
Nikolai may be bad but he’s no dummy.
All was silent within the walls of the compound.
Samara explained their job. “I make breakfast while Bashira cleans the common rooms in the morning. We have one hour before Nikolai and his men wake up.
Sarah took advantage of the time she had to take pictures of everything—walls, windows, gates, doors, hallways. She didn’t go anywhere without taking pictures. It would make things easier if she could just email the pictures directly to Chris, but Sarah wasn’t the least bit surprised when she didn’t get a signal on her cell phone.
They don’t call it the Empty Quarter for nothing.
She systematically mapped the lower level of the house with photos because she knew it would help when they took the compound. After she returned to the Bedouin camp, Chris would download the photos and create a virtual map and 3D image for the guys to plan the attack.
Her feet itched with the need to get upstairs and make contact with Vince, but Samara told her the second floor was off limits until Nikolai came downstairs.
Samara reassured Sarah. “We brought your man breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday. He’ll be fine today.”
A resigned sigh escaped Sarah’s lips.
The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by going upstairs when she shouldn’t be there. It would be easier to locate him while everyone else was downstairs anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It seemed like forever but Nikolai and his men finally came down to the main floor. The first man down the stairs was well over six feet and two hundred fifty pounds. Another followed closely behind him. He stood just a hint over six feet and looked to be about two hundred pounds. The two men busied themselves with a large breakfast laid out in the kitchen by Samara while Sarah took a tray to Nikolai in his office.
