by Bella Juarez
“I thought we were meeting people?”
“We are. I’ll have the meal brought to the suite.”
“What’s the dress?”
“Casual, we’ll be with friends,” James said, taking her hand.
Irene managed to get a nap after they returned to the hotel. She still couldn’t seem to adjust to the time zone. James gently roused her around six.
“Sugar, our guests will be here in a couple of hours. Can you direct the caterers on setting everything up?” James asked.
“Of course, James. Are they here?” Irene asked.
“No, not yet. I wanted to give you a little time,” he said.
Irene rose and refreshed herself before she walked to the living area of the suite. She found a bottle of water in the refrigerator and looked around. She was shaking her head, and apparently her actions drew James’s attention.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” James asked.
“Now I know why rich people whine so badly when they lose everything,” Irene said.
James chuckled slightly. “Why’s that?”
“What a life. Directing caterers, being chauffeured around, dressing up and being seen at swank bars or classy restaurants, private jets…My goodness, I think I’ll whine when I go back home and into reality,” Irene said, taking a long drink.
James was laughing. “This is a cushy assignment, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Irene agreed.
The caterers arrived and Irene directed the setup of the small buffet that James’s guests would enjoy. Irene decided to dress in jeans, a long sleeve T-shirt, and a very comfortable cardigan. Her little ballet slippers were comfortable and it felt good to relax. James had on jeans and his denim work shirt.
Irene snuggled up to James on the couch as they caught up on the news and waited for their guests to arrive. She was just getting comfortable in his arms when there was a slight knock on the door. He went to the door and opened it wide. Irene was catching a segment on science news when she heard a familiar voice. She turned around and looked at the entryway.
“Jack!” Irene exclaimed as she jumped up from the couch.
Captain O’Malley and three other men walked into the room. “Irene! How do you like Istanbul?” he asked, giving her a big hug.
“It’s wonderful!” she said, beaming. “Who else did you bring?” Irene asked. “Alex! Shaq! Dan! Oh my goodness! What’s this?” Irene asked, stroking their scruffy faces.
“We’re about to go deep, and we’ll need to blend in,” Shaq said, gathering Irene in a hug. “I know. I hate it,” he said smiling as he leaned his face into her palm.
“How did you wind up here with him?” Alex asked, nodding his head toward JJ. ”Did he kidnap you?” He snaked his arm around Irene’s shoulder protectively. He looked at JJ and frowned. “We’ll rescue you if you want us to.”
“Does Badass know about this?” Dan asked, slightly concerned.
Irene giggled as she put her arm around Alex’s waist and hugged him.
“I’m serious. Do you need be rescued? Don’t be afraid,” Alex asked, protectively pulling her closer.
“Would you believe me if I told you there’s no place else I’d rather be?” Irene asked.
“Oh my God! He not only kidnapped you! He brainwashed you!” Dan exclaimed.
“Um, this is going to require an intervention! Good thing we got here when we did!” Shaq exclaimed.
“She knows what she’s doing. Don’t you, sugar?” James asked with a dangerous look to his men.
“Yes, I do,” Irene said, hugging Alex and Shaq who came to protectively stand on the other side of her. “I’ll bet you boys are hungry. The food has been waiting for you,” she said.
Irene felt so small standing in between such big men. Alex and Shaq were the two biggest men in the room, both over six feet and very muscular. They reminded Irene of football players. Jack was stocky and muscular. He and James were about the same height, not quite six foot. Dan was the smallest of the bunch. He was a little shorter than James and Jack, but like the elder pair he was also very solid. Irene watched as the men dug into the buffet that was waiting.
There was another knock and James went to answer. This man reminded Irene of some of the locals. He was clearly Middle Eastern. He was a small man, with salt-and-pepper hair. His beard was full and neatly trimmed. He was dressed in Western jeans, a button-down shirt, and a heavy moleskin jacket.
“Kashi!” Jack greeted the man with a hearty handshake.
“Rock! You bloody Paddy! I couldn’t believe it when I heard they made you a Captain!” Kashi said.
Irene stared at the man. His proper British accent wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. JJ came and stood next to her as Kashi noticed her for the first time.
“I’m sorry for my little outburst. It was most crude,” Kashi said to Irene.
“Right! He plays at being proper, but watch that one, Irene. He’s sneaky,” Alex said from the table.
“Shut up, Alex!” Kashi snapped. “I haven’t had the pleasure. Elliot Kashi,” he said, extending his hand.
“Irene Ortiz, Mr. Kashi,” Irene said, taking it.
“Do you work with these…men?” Kashi asked Irene as he looked around the room.
“No, I’m here with James,” Irene said.
Kashi’s jaw dropped as he looked at James.
“Unexpected, huh, Kashi? We’re all still scratching our heads wondering what the hell he did to her,” Shaq quipped from the table.
“I say it’s Stockholm syndrome. We’ll get her back to the States and into therapy,” Dan chimed in.
Kashi shook his head and looked at Irene. “Whatever it is, JJ is one lucky chap. It’s a pleasure, Irene.” Kashi turned to JJ. “Don’t screw this one up, JJ.”
“Go to hell!” James spat, putting his arm around Irene and pulling her close.
“Dinner is waiting. Please dive in,” Irene said with a giggle.
Irene enjoyed her evening. Seeing so many familiar faces was comforting. The SEALs were always entertaining with their bantering back and forth. She enjoyed herself immensely as they teased and poked at each other all night long. It turned out that Kashi had known James and Jack when he was serving with Britain’s Special Air Service, or SAS. After dinner, JJ walked Irene to the bedroom, informing her that the men would be talking for the rest of the evening. Irene shut the bedroom door and relaxed in front of the TV.
* * * *
Nayyaf ended the call and sat back. He contemplated his next move before taking any action. He held the fate of so many in is hands at this moment. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of gratitude and guidance. There would be no turning back with this next call. He opened his eyes. He’d come too far to back down now. So many people trusted and looked to him. This was war, and nothing short of victory would be acceptable. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the number.
“Azad, tell the colonel we have a test site. I will meet you at the Russian embassy in the morning to discuss the details.”
Chapter Eighteen
Pashtun Village
Kush, Afghanistan
78 km from the Khyber Pass, near Pakistan
March 10, 2009/0533 Zulu
Dr. Isabel Vasquez read the papers that had just arrived for her in her weekly dispatch of supplies. She’d just been ordered out of the country by the US State Department. She shook her head because she’d been in rural Afghanistan for six weeks. She was supposed to be assigned here for the next six months. The clinic was operational and had been working for only two weeks. The villagers around the valley were just starting to trust her and come to her for the medical care they so desperately needed. Shit! I can’t leave now. I just got here.
Izzy went to her small desk in the clinic and fired up her laptop. It had a satellite link for Internet access so she could communicate with her home office. Dr. Vasquez was a member of Doctors without Borders. She’d specifically asked to come to Afghanistan in protest of the war
her country was waging. She pulled up Skype on her desktop and called the office responsible for dealing with these sorts of political issues. They quickly informed her that the decision was hers but to be aware of the fact that she was defying a State Department safety order. Her decision was made. She was staying put for now.
As Izzy was closing the lid on her laptop, she stood and looked outside because she’d heard excited shouts outside her window. There was a family working on a small plot of land a few feet outside the window of the clinic. She saw the Jeeps off in the distance and watched as they sped toward her clinic. Probably more people needing medical treatment. The men heading her way looked like some of the local freedom fighters. She decided to prepare herself. Some of these people were probably wounded.
Izzy walked into the clinic’s small patient room that she used to assess patients as they came in and out of the clinic. She opened the cabinet with the bandages and other wound supplies she would need for the people racing toward her at breakneck speed. She needed to call the other staffers inside because she would need some help. They were all having tea with the local chieftain’s son. She was prepping the table when she heard the explosion.
What the hell? Izzy raced to her office and looked out the window. She scanned the area and saw the family that had been working the land. Their bodies lay on the ground, torn by the grenade that had gone off near them. Izzy looked further out and saw another grenade tossed out of the vehicle racing away from the village.
“Get down!” Izzy yelled. She watched in horror as a child started to run but couldn’t get away in time.
Izzy went into automatic emergency mode. She was a trauma surgeon and used to seeing injuries that most people couldn’t imagine. She raced out of the clinic, grabbing her emergency pack as she fled the building to the victims of the attack. She reached the little family that was closest to her building. Off in the distance she could hear the chaos and panicked screams of the villagers. The father was injured by shrapnel fragments. His wife and daughter were dead. They were closest to the blast. His son was also injured but not as badly, having been farthest away from the blast.
Some of the villagers and the MSF staff that had been relaxing came to Izzy’s aid. She directed them to take the injured into the clinic as she raced to the second blast site. Only the child had been seriously injured and one other person had minor shrapnel fragments. They were all taken to the clinic where Izzy started a very long twenty-four hours.
* * * *
Kashi instantly saw the broken-down truck as he turned off of Highway A1 onto the dirt road that led to Kush. It was cold, rainy, and miserable in Afghanistan this time of year because it was the monsoon season. He squinted looking out the windshield. Where in the hell are those bloody gypsies? Three of the men from his grandmother’s village of Kush were supposed to meet him and lead him to the village. He left his Land Rover and walked to the truck parked by the side of the dirt road.
“Bloody hell!” Kashi cursed.
All three men had been shot and were dead. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as it stood up. Someone was watching and close by. He climbed back into his vehicle, checked his weapons, and started down the soupy dirt road. Kush couldn’t be that far. He knew it was near an old quarry. He followed the road, taking it slow and watching for anything unusual.
“Fuck!” he yelled as he swerved his vehicle away from the center of the road.
Kashi almost missed seeing the freshly buried improvised explosive device in the middle of the road. He saw the piles of black stone that were crushed and stayed on course. The road soon turned into a goat trail, and finally he could see the outbuildings of farms and the walls of the small village. He drove inside and immediately saw a new building that hadn’t been here the last time he was here two years ago.
Kashi got out of the vehicle and read the sign on the side of the building. Médecins Sans Frontières…The MSF Trauma Centre will prioritize treatment for war-wounded and other seriously injured persons without regard to their ethnicity or political affiliations and determined solely by their medical needs…No fee charged. The sign had a red circle with the picture of a gun in the middle crossed out.
Kashi took a closer look at the sign. There were fragments where it had taken a blast by some sort of explosive device. Bloody hell! Doctors Without Borders has come to the tribal reaches of Afghanistan. Shit! What blooming country are these blokes from? Bloody France! They were the only country on earth that was crazy enough to do something like that without weapons. He walked to the door of the clinic. He placed his hand on the knob but it opened before he’d a chance to twist it.
“Go get Taszha!” a woman ordered in Pashtun.
Kashi took a good look at the woman. She was stunning. Despite the fact that she looked utterly exhausted she was a very beautiful woman and out of place here.
“Go get Taszha! Now! No more burials. We have to burn these bodies,” the woman said.
Kashi knew Taszha. He was the local chieftain and his grandmother’s nephew. He rushed into the cold, misty drizzle. He found Taszha’s hut within a few yards of the clinic. He knocked on the crude wooden door and was greeted by one of Taszha’s younger sons.
“Cousin Kashi!” the man exclaimed, embracing Kashi heartily.
“Jalaal! Where is your father? The woman at the clinic is asking for him,” Kashi informed.
“This is urgent. I beg your forgiveness,” Jalaal said, turning away. “Father! Father, the woman doctor is asking for you, again,” Jalaal said, entering the splendidly decorated living area where Taszha was sitting on pillows and enjoying a cup of strong tea.
“Kashi, my boy! You have returned. Where are the others I sent to retrieve you?” Taszha asked.
“I bring bad tidings, my dearest uncle. They are dead,” Kashi said, lowering his head.
Taszha let out a sad, frustrated sigh. “Come. Let us go to the clinic.” Taszha stood.
Kashi followed the men to the clinic and they talked about the recent string of attacks on the village. This most recent one had been particularly vicious. Villagers were dying from what seemed like minor wounds. No one could explain it. The newly arrived doctor and her small staff had been working day and night to save them. The attack had taken place yesterday morning. The wounded had died from an unexplainable fever. Kashi’s radar kicked in. He would need to let MI-6 know what had happened. Somehow he also needed to tip off the SEALs waiting for MI-6’s initial report.
* * * *
JJ was sitting at the large table in the suite when the postcard came. He read it and frowned. What the fuck is this? Is this a joke? He reread the postcard and shook his head.
Irene:
Gvoo qq gszg hlnvgsrmt hgizmtv szh szkkvmvw rm Pfhs zmw sv mvvwh gl zovig gsv gvzn gl nb xlliwrmzgvh. Tvg gsvn zh xolhv zh klhhryov zmw R droo yirvu gsvn dsvm gsvb tvg sviv. 34-11-16-61 c 71-40-44-79-0
Pzhsr
Irene had just finished dressing and was pouring herself a cup of coffee. He joined her at the table. He handed Irene the postcard that was addressed to her. She picked it up and scanned it, frowning as she read. Her face suddenly lit up in recognition. She reached for the newspaper lying next to him. She looked for the crossword puzzle and started filling in the squares.
Irene:
Tell JJ that something strange has happened in Kush and he needs to alert the team to my coordinates. Get them as close as possible and I will brief them when they get here. 34-11-16-61 x 71-40-44-79-0
Kashi
JJ watched in astonishment as she wrote, ending with is it safe to talk?
“Yes, sugar, it’s safe,” JJ confirmed.
“This was meant for you,” Irene said
“What the hell did he write that in?”
“It’s a cipher, Mr. Linguist.”
“How did you know how to decode it?”
“Elliot and I talked for a while when he was here. He asked me what kind of experience I had for this line of work. I told him I was a sixth-grade
science teacher and a high school principal. I would catch all kinds of sneaky stuff. A favorite when it came to cheating on tests was ciphering. This one basically turns A to Z and B into Y, and so on,” Irene said.
“You’re scary, sugar.”
JJ tried contacting Rock and Gamez throughout most of the day to give them Kashi’s message. It was almost impossible. By now, Gamez and most of SEAL Team 13 were staging to go into Afghanistan. Later in the afternoon he received a call.
“Jones here,” JJ answered quickly.
“Mr. Jones? Your demonstration is ready. Can you meet me in Paris in five days?” Bakri asked.
“Who am I meeting? Will it be any of the scientists that will be working for the company?” JJ asked.
“One of them. The other is the lead scientist for the project. He is looking forward to meeting you.”
“Very good. You’ll give me specifics once I reach Paris?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Nineteen
Near US Naval Support Activity Bahrain
Juffair, Kingdom of Bahrain
Persian Gulf
March 11, 2009/1200 Zulu
Irene was sipping a latte outside a French café while James was at the Navy Base in Bahrain preparing for his trip to Paris. They’d recently arrived from Istanbul. They’d checked into the Juffair Grand Hotel. As Irene basked in the sunny sixty-eight-degree weather, she'd had never imagined such a place.
The kingdom of Bahrain lay on the western shores of the Persian Gulf between Saudi Arabia and Qatar. Iran was to the north of the small country. Juffair, where they were staying, was built an extension of Bahrain’s coastline east of the city. Juffair had originally been a separate village but was now a vibrant suburban neighborhood.
Irene saw just how much the little hamlet had changed into a very young urban space. It was now home to hotels, restaurants, flats, and villas. There were large supermarkets and shopping malls in the area. It was also very Western in the names that flashed on the buildings, all in English and Arabic.
