“If someone wants me dead bad enough, I’ll be dead. You all know that. I take all the precautions I can but I’m not going into hiding. Even Cold couldn’t protect me against a sniper.”
* * *
The bearded soldier looked bleary-eyed into the gusting wind. He scanned the bleak, icy landscape beyond the encampment with anger. His hands gripped the AK47 rifle in almost a choking manner for a moment, the tips of his gloved fingers already numb from the cold after only an hour and a half on watch. The constant howling of the wind droned on in his brain monotonously. It added to the rage he felt over forced hours of guard duty in a place where the soldier believed no creature on earth would venture anyway.
The soldier shouldered his rifle. He turned toward the small guard dwelling as a huge apparition rose up out of the landscape behind him. The soldier felt a stabbing sensation at his neck. A split second later his mouth was engulfed by a gloved hand and his rifle clamped to his side as he struggled. In seconds, the soldier lay unconscious at McDaniels’ feet. McDaniels crouched again, using his night vision scope to go over the dwellings nearby for anyone out in the open. Confident he had not been seen McDaniels shouldered the fallen soldier’s body and retreated into the relentless storm.
Groaning loudly and shivering violently, the soldier opened his eyes to small slits. He lay within some form of tent where at least he could not feel the wind. Trying to move, the man felt the restraints holding his arms tied behind him to his bound feet, making it impossible to do anything but roll slightly to either side.
“Lie still,” McDaniels ordered gruffly in Arabic. “What is your name?”
It was then the startled soldier noticed a darkened outline of someone huge sitting cross-legged just above his head.
“Meh…Mehmed Ahmadi. My friends will…”
“Your friends will find you have disappeared,” McDaniels cut him off. “You are two miles from your camp. I have a drawing of your encampment. You will point out where the Nakhuda family is and where I can find Hafez al Zoubi.”
“I will tell you nothing,” Mehmed stated.
A split second later Mehmed screamed in pain. McDaniels clamped the man’s whole groin area in one hand. McDaniels shook the man unmercifully as the soldier shrieked. McDaniels finally paused.
“You will tell me or I will cut your dick off one inch at a time,” McDaniels whispered in Mehmed’s ear, “and cauterize the remainder each time with a torch.”
“You…you will kill me anyway,” Mehmed protested. “What can…”
“We might be able to work something out if you are useful,” McDaniels offered. “If you lie to me or refuse to talk, you will pray to Allah for death before I get through with you.”
McDaniels took a map-sized paper out of his inside coat pocket, spreading it so Mehmed could see it. With his small Maglite, McDaniels illuminated the detailed drawing of the buildings within the compound.
“I have seen a woman with two young sons in three different places. This looks like her dwelling here. Is it?”
“How… how did you get this drawing?”
“I’ve been drawing it little by little while I checked out your camp. Here are the pictures I’ve taken.”
McDaniels put a digital camera memory chip into his small portable viewer. He showed the pictures to Mehmed. McDaniels pointed to a woman carrying a bundle into one of the buildings.
“Is that the Nakhuda woman?”
“You would have had to be inside the camp to take this.” Mehmed glanced up at McDaniels doubtfully.
“Is that the woman?”
“Yes, it is Shomari.”
McDaniels pointed out a structure. “Is this where she and her sons sleep?”
“Yes.”
McDaniels took out a silvery emergency blanket and spread it over Mehmed, tucking it in around him. Moments later the young soldier was able to quit shivering. In addition to the blurry satellite photo of al Zoubi, McDaniels showed Mehmed drawings of a man fitting Hasib Nakhuda’s description of al Zoubi and the place McDaniels figured al Zoubi stayed.
Mehmed’s startled look was almost enough for McDaniels. When the young soldier stayed silent McDaniels nudged him with his hand.
“Do not stop now, my young friend,” McDaniels urged gently. “Confirm what I have, and then I will confirm what you have told me.”
“I am dead either way,” Mehmed said dejectedly. “This is too big for you to let me live. No one has been able to get so near al Zoubi before, at least not a stranger. He will kill me and every friend I have ever known if I betray him.”
“I will make you a deal. There will be no more talk of torture. When I get the Nakhuda family safely to the Iraqi border, I will set you free there. If we are all alive, you may choose which way you wish to go, back to Syria or into American custody. Al Zoubi will be dead or a captive. That you can be sure of.”
Hope surged into Mehmed’s features.
“You…you are an American? You would take me to America?” Mehmed asked with such uplifted spirits McDaniels laughed.
“I thought you were a hard core Jihadist, young Mehmed. You would give up your way of life so easily?”
“It is a living death,” Mehmed stated in a whisper. “We are sent to die at a whim. Our families, like the Nakhuda’s, are held hostage against betrayal. I am alone now. My family is dead. All I have left are a few friends who have survived these past few years.”
“How old are you?”
“I am twenty years old,” Mehmed lied.
McDaniels guessed the youth’s age to be five years older in spite of the actual truth.
“I cannot free you. I will take you with me when we go,” McDaniels promised. “You remind me of another young one I knew in Iraq. For that reason if you speak the truth and help me take the woman and her sons out of here I will send you to America.”
“You…you would not joke with me about something like that?” Mehmed asked, unable to believe such a thing could happen. “It is not easy to think of escaping this living hell.”
“You have my word. That is all I can give you.”
“Then trust me to help you. Let me return to my post before they find me gone,” Mehmed urged, twisting to look up at McDaniels from a closer position. “I would die to achieve what you have promised. If I can increase my chances by helping you I do not care if I die trying. At least I will have given my life for something.”
McDaniels looked at Mehmed silently. He had made many such decisions before in the field. His own life was already at risk, but the lives of the Nakhuda family and the lives of countless others depended on the information he could gather from al Zoubi. He knew if Reskova did not hear from him in short order this encampment would be obliterated. McDaniels released the young soldier. Mehmed rubbed circulation back into his limbs, smiling hopefully at McDaniels.
“You will trust me to help you?”
“Will they have missed you by now?”
“How long has it been since you took me?”
McDaniels looked at his watch.
“Nearly two hours.”
“I still have time.” Mehmed let McDaniels help him to his feet. “No one checks the guard in this weather.”
“When are you on duty again?” McDaniels released the clip from Mehmed’s rifle. He checked the chamber before handing it to the young soldier.
“Tomorrow at the same time - I am the low dog who must watch every night at this hellish time.” Mehmed shouldered his rifle and followed McDaniels out of the small tent. “Shall I approach the woman for you?”
Out in the howling wind, McDaniels leaned close to the young man. “Is it usual for you to talk with her?”
“No,” Mehmed admitted, hiking next to McDaniels toward the encampment.
“Then I will approach her tomorrow after you are on duty. Once I have her ready to go I will bring her to the guardhouse. You will watch over the family until I conclude my meeting with al Zoubi.”
“You will need help. Al Zoubi h
as three hand-picked guards with him in his compound at all times.”
“Let me worry about him. Think only of helping the woman and her sons.”
“I do not mean to offend you, Sir,” Mehmed said cautiously, “but what if you are killed?”
McDaniels chuckled. “I will write a note and give you a GPS unit. Take the family to the Iraq border following the coordinates on the GPS. You will be met there. Start out immediately after I bring them to you. I will catch up if I am able.”
“They will not kill me?”
“No. Once you activate the locator I give you, they will know right where you are. When you meet them do as they say until you can hand them the note. Tell them to wipe out the encampment. Are any of your friends in there now?”
“No, they are stationed further into my country at one of the checkpoints al Zoubi uses to filter men and supplies for the insurgency in Iraq. It is hard to believe you will trust me in so important a matter.”
“The chances of completing my mission and getting the Nakhuda family out unharmed are very small. With your help their chances are much higher. As to trust, even if you go back and betray me I will be watching your encampment. No one will get me but I will call in an air strike to get all of you. I only gave my word I would try to get Hasib’s family out.”
“You know Hasib?” Mehmed asked incredulously. “How… oh… he is in American custody. We wondered where he had been sent. Hasib is a very good soldier and has been in combat many times. Now I see how you could know about al Zoubi. Was it you who captured him?”
“I made Hasib the same deal I am making you: help me and live, betray me and die.” He took out the letter Hasib had written him and handed it to Mehmed. “Read this.”
McDaniels stopped and held his light on the plastic encased note for Mehmed to read.
“Hasib is also tired of the senseless killing,” McDaniels commented as Mehmed finished reading the letter and handed it back to McDaniels. “If we both get out of this, I will send you to an Iraqi friend of mine. A young man of your experience could be just what we need.”
“I do not wish to stay in Iraq. I would rather take my chances here.”
“My friend is already in America,” McDaniels explained. “I meant he will help you adapt. Do you speak any English?”
“Yes, I am… ah… unused to speaking it,” Mehmed said in English. “I will learn very fast.”
“You could be very helpful to me in America. There is a Syrian connection to al Qaeda we are investigating. Have you heard of anything related to that?”
“I know of the Syrians killed or captured on one of your air flights,” Mehmed offered. “Al Jazeera claimed they were innocent victims of an American secret agent the American newspapers called Cold someone… ah… yes… Cold Mountain. He viciously killed and maimed…”
McDaniels laughed when he heard the Arab network’s spin on the Syrian terrorists’ capture during the flight he and Reskova had been on. Mehmed paused, looking over at McDaniels curiously.
“Why is it that you laugh?”
“The Syrians were Terrorists, searching for weaknesses in our security. I didn’t torture anyone and only a couple died.”
“You…you are the one they call Cold Mountain?” Mehmed stared at McDaniels in disbelief.
McDaniels shrugged. “Just call me Cold. If we get back to America you will find everyone else does. Do not believe even a quarter of what my Iraqi friend tells you about me. Everything else he says you must listen carefully to, just not anything about me.”
Mehmed smiled for the first time.
“You and this Iraqi are very good friends.”
“More like brothers.” McDaniels stopped walking. “This is as far as I go. I will return tomorrow evening at exactly the same time I took you outside the guard shack. Do not bring a lot of personal items. Try and gather some water and dry food for the trip - that would be good. My supplies are dwindling so anything to make the hike out of here better for Shomari and her sons will help.”
McDaniels handed Mehmed the clip for the soldier’s AK47. He shook hands with him. “I will see you tomorrow night.”
“Yes, Cold Mountain. I will be ready.”
McDaniels watched the young man hike toward the encampment, his hand at the trigger of his own AK47. Once Mehmed was near the compound, McDaniels returned to his camp. He gathered everything together, leaving no sign anyone had been there. After hiking to the backup spot nearly three miles on the other side of the encampment, McDaniels brushed away the trail the wind did not obscure. McDaniels moved to a position where he could watch the remainder of Mehmed’s stint on guard duty. Mehmed was relieved moments before dawn. After McDaniels saw the young soldier retire within one of the barracks buildings, he returned to his own rough camp.
Chapter 43
Escape
Two hours before Mehmed was due to go on guard duty, McDaniels began the arduous approach to the encampment. McDaniels had watched Mehmed for many days, having chosen him the most likely guard to be receptive to a deal. Leading the young man into volunteering his help with subtle hints, McDaniels had been satisfied Mehmed would do as he promised. When Mehmed had not immediately betrayed him, McDaniels felt the chances of a successful mission quadrupled.
Nearly an hour passed during Mehmed’s guard duty. He walked out of the guard shack. A huge white clad figure approached him from the desert. McDaniels gestured for Mehmed to retreat back into the guard shack where the wind was not a factor. Inside the small shack, McDaniels pushed back his hood and took off his gloves. Mehmed was startled at McDaniels’ scarred, bearded visage.
“What troubles you, Mehmed?”
“You.” Mehmed took a deep breath. “I did not see you very well last night. I wish I could not see you so well now in this lamplight.”
McDaniels laughed. “Sorry for how I look. Nearly a month out in this lovely terrain and I… you know, Mehmed, I think you may have a point. If I approach Shomari and her sons looking like I do she might scream before I can say anything. Perhaps you could give her my note from Hasib and bring his family here.”
“I think that would be best, Cold Mountain. I can then prepare her more for your appearance.”
McDaniels took out the sealed Mylar enclosed note and handed it to Mehmed.
“I will watch your back the whole way. Act and move normally in case you have a few casual watchers.”
“Believe me,” Mehmed assured McDaniels, “no one is up at this hour. Better for you to worry about al Zoubi’s guards.”
“One step at a time, my young friend.” McDaniels pulled his hood back into place. “Take as much time as you like. Remind Shomari she and her sons will be trekking a long way to the border. They can only take the necessities. Can you direct her in that?”
“Yes. I will make sure they do not burden us with foolish things.”
* * *
McDaniels followed Mehmed, keeping close to the roughly hewn housings while scanning for any movement with his infrared goggles in place. Mehmed reached the door of the dwelling McDaniels had guessed was the Nakhuda family’s quarters. Mehmed knocked lightly on the door without pause. Minutes passed before a veiled figure opened the door. Mehmed was beckoned inside. Nearly half an hour later, Mehmed emerged from the building with Shomari, and her two sons in tow. They were heavily cloaked against the frigid weather. Each one carried a small bag slung over their shoulder. The woman looked around fearfully. McDaniels returned to the guard shack and waited.
Mehmed led the family inside. McDaniels smiled at the young faces looking up in awe at him.
“You…you are the one my husband wrote about… the Cold Mountain?” Shomari asked.
“Yes and soon you will be with him. Mehmed will guide you and your sons to where my men wait at the border area. I will have to remain here for a time. I will follow you all as soon as I can.”
“Mehmed says you will seek out Hafez al Zoubi. Please, leave with us. He will torture and kill you as he has done al
l the others.”
“If anything happens to me, Mehmed will have this note.” McDaniels handed Mehmed a hand written note with some things only Lieutenant Dominguez would know. “You will all be cared for. Hurry on now. I will give Mehmed a GPS unit to find my men on the border.”
McDaniels went over the operation of the GPS unit with Mehmed until the young man was certain he could work it. He also gave the young soldier a pair of night vision goggles and explained how to operate them.
“I’ve activated the locator chip. My men are already preparing for your arrival. Now get going.”
“Allah bless you, Cold Mountain,” Shomari whispered.
Mehmed gave McDaniels a small salute before hurrying the family out the door.
* * *
Hafez al Zoubi awoke suddenly, his breath coming in short gasps. He tried wildly to move. McDaniels lay atop the man as he had Bashar Mero not so long ago. McDaniels waited until al Zoubi stopped struggling before speaking.
“Quit moving around and I will allow you to breathe easier.”
Al Zoubi immediately ceased moving. McDaniels eased the pressure on al Zoubi’s solar plexus.
“I need you to gather some things together for me. If I like the way you do it I will take you with me alive.”
“Who… are you?” al Zoubi croaked out painfully, turning his head toward the door to his room.
“Your men will not be joining us. I am going to get off so you can begin showing me all of your files, computer drives, and everything else related to your operation. We will put them in my pack. The two of us will then leave camp.”
“Will I live if I do as you ask?”
“Yes.”
“And if I do not?”
“I will drag you out into the desert and begin breaking every bone in your body. After I have broken and smashed each bone, I will begin cutting pieces off. I can find the things I asked for by myself but it will take longer. I have time. Choose.”
The grisly calmness of McDaniels’ promised torture made al Zoubi’s hair stand up on end at the back of his neck. Al Zoubi recognized for the first time in his life he was at the mercy of a man capable of things he had himself ordered done.
Monster Page 45
