Forgotten

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Though if it became necessary, their mission would have failed.

  They were to follow the target, confirm the girl was Alia Monroe, then rescue her when it was safe to do so—out of town.

  The cane slammed with another sale, a roar of celebration mixed with disappointment for those who had lost the bidding war, erupting behind him.

  They should have an A-10 strafe this entire place.

  32 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “Target is on the move. Delta is following.”

  Chris Leroux watched the display, high-altitude UAV footage segmented onto several displays, one tracking their target, Rasheed Hadad, another showing the Delta team, yet another showing the vehicle approaching the city, one they hoped contained Alia Monroe.

  “Primary target is entering the city now. ETA to secondary’s position, five minutes.”

  Leroux sucked in a quick breath and held it for a moment before expelling it rapidly. “Okay, people, let’s not screw this up.” He glanced over his shoulder at Randy Child. “Backup drone in place?”

  “Yes, sir. Good feeds from both.”

  “Good.” Leroux nodded his approval, turning to face his team in the operations center. “Once Delta confirms it’s her, I want both eyes on her the entire time, just in case they aren’t able to effect—”

  “Sir, something’s happening.”

  Leroux’s eyes narrowed, turning to Child. “What?”

  He pointed at the screen. “The vehicle with the primary target is turning around.”

  “What?” Leroux spun toward the displays, his eyes widening as he watched the vehicle accelerating in the opposite direction, a cloud of dust in its wake.

  “I think we’ve been made!”

  Leroux watched in horror as ISIS soldiers rushed down the streets toward Hadad’s position. He spun toward Child. “Warn Delta, now!”

  33 |

  ISIS Held Territory Thawrah, Syria

  “Abort! Abort! Abort!”

  Red muttered a curse, spinning on his heel and heading back toward the anonymity the auction’s crowd would provide. Atlas and Spock were already in the alley with him, doing the same. He glanced over his shoulder to see a burqa-clad woman he assumed was Niner, reenter the alleyway at a run, hand signals indicating they had to book.

  Shit!

  He broke out into a jog, not wanting to draw too much attention, Atlas and Spock merging with the crowd oblivious to the danger they were about to be in.

  “Zero-Six and One-Zero, do you both have eyes on the alley?”

  Jimmy responded. “Affirmative. Hostiles entering now.”

  “Copy that. Do your thing.”

  The distinct sound of an MP5 on single-fire could barely be heard over the crowds, those in attendance occasionally firing off their own weapons in celebration of their depravity. Niner caught up to Red as he merged with the throngs. Red stole a glance over his shoulder to see several of their pursuers already down.

  He pushed into the thick crowd, several protests erupting as Jimmy and Mickey continued to thin the herd that followed them, though if they had been made, every ISIS soldier in this godforsaken place either already knew they were there, or soon would.

  This isn’t going to end well.

  34 |

  The Unit Fort Bragg, North Carolina

  Colonel Clancy’s blood boiled as he watched his men push through the crowd at the slave auction, scores of hostiles converging on the area. “How the hell did they find out?”

  Sweets shook his head. “There’s no way they could know this was where and when.” He stared at Clancy. “Unless…”

  Clancy glowered, marching from the room and down the hall to the interrogation room holding Gina Nassar. He stormed in, startling the MP standing guard inside. “Has she left here?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Where was she when you arrested her?”

  “Bathroom, sir.”

  “Did she touch her cellphone?”

  The MP shook her head emphatically. “No, sir! We confiscated it immediately.”

  Clancy glared at Gina who sat calmly, biting at a hangnail. “So she’s had no opportunity to communicate with anyone.”

  “No, sir.”

  “And she hasn’t been out of your sight since you arrested her.”

  “No, sir.”

  The guard from outside stepped through the door. “She did ask to use the bathroom.”

  The eyes bulged on the MP inside the room. “That’s right, sir. Sorry, sir, I forgot. She peed herself when we arrested her.”

  Clancy cursed, jabbing a finger at the MP. “You, come with me.” He walked swiftly toward the women’s washroom then pointed at the door. “Empty it.”

  The female MP, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, nodded briskly. “Yes, sir.” She entered, reappearing a moment later. “It’s empty, sir.”

  He followed her inside. “Which stall?”

  The MP pointed at the far stall. “This one.”

  “Search it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clancy watched, glaring at her back as she searched the stall, a frown creasing his face when she gasped, reappearing a moment later holding a cellphone in a Ziploc baggie.

  “It was taped underneath the plumbing connection to the wall.”

  He grabbed it from her, swiftly returning to the interrogation room as he removed the phone from the baggie, turning it on. The phone prompted him for a password or thumbprint. He entered the room, holding out the phone. “Code. Now.”

  She glanced up at him, still chewing at the hangnail. “What’s that?”

  “Your phone. Unlock it.”

  She shrugged. “Not my phone.”

  He reached out and seized her hand, grabbing her thumb and pressing it against the sensor as she struggled against his iron grip.

  Nothing.

  “Told you it wasn’t mine.”

  He grabbed her index finger, trying again.

  It unlocked.

  He stepped back, a smile on his face. “Well, well, well. Not yours, huh?” He shook his head. “You do realize that if you had just used a code, we might not have been able to link the phone to you, but the fact you were stupid enough to record your fingerprint so you could save half a second, means we have all the evidence we need to lock you away for the rest of your life.”

  Where’s the smug expression now?

  He brought up the text messages and cursed, one sent minutes ago. He glared at the MP who had failed so miserably in her duties and jabbed a finger at the prisoner. “She doesn’t leave here. I don’t care if she has to crap in that garbage can.”

  “Y-yes, sir!”

  He jogged back to the operations center to get the Arabic text translated, though he already knew what it would say. It would be a warning about the impending attack. The woman was smart. She knew the moment of her arrest that her counterparts in Syria had been compromised.

  And now she may have cost him the lives of his men.

  35 |

  ISIS Held Territory Thawrah, Syria

  “We need a distraction.”

  Red nodded to himself at Niner’s observation over the comm. The crowd was thick and getting thicker as more ISIS fighters streamed in from all directions. He glanced over his shoulder, picking out his team, all close to him, all anonymous in the crowd, Jimmy and Mickey still on the rooftops. He reached under his robe, through a conveniently located opening, and removed a grenade from his belt, popping the pin.

  “Fire in the hole.”

  He tossed the ball of fury behind him, into the center of the crowd of people deserving of the death and suffering he was about to inflict on them. He counted off to himself then hunched over as the blast tore the depraved apart. Screams of terror and agony erupted as he and the others continued out of the square, none looking behind them, focusing instead on anyone who might oppose their successful escape.

  “Zero-Six and One-Zero, meet us at RV Point Cha
rlie.”

  Acknowledgments echoed in his ear as the crowd broke into a panic.

  And surged in every direction.

  Mary Todd ducked, covering her head as an explosion tore through the crowd of horny yet somehow pious men there to bid on her vagina. While terror gripped her, she took some satisfaction in the horrific wails of those unlucky enough to survive the attack.

  Hopefully it blew their dicks off!

  A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, she and the other girls hurried off the platform and back to their waiting truck. She yelped as she was shoved inside, her leg catching on a bolt in the metal floor, a nasty gash opening up on her shin. She struggled to the back, limping as June and the others followed. Within moments, the rear of the truck was slammed shut and the idling vehicle surged forward, jostling them all.

  “What happened?” asked June.

  Someone else, closer to the door, replied. “I think I saw someone throw a grenade.”

  “Who? A soldier?”

  “I don’t think so. It was a woman in a burqa.”

  Mary’s eyes popped wide. “Could it have been a man wearing a burqa?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is, thanks to him, we’re not going to be raped tonight.”

  Mary shuddered at the thought. “Yeah, but what about tomorrow?”

  Red jogged along with the fleeing crowd, heading south as he tried to keep track of his team while appearing as panicked as those around him with frequent shoulder checks and occasionally raised hands. As he put more distance between him and the town square, he put eyes on each of the others, everyone safe.

  For now.

  Now they had to make it out of the city, something that had just become more difficult, if not impossible, it a challenge on the best of days to outrun a radio. The only advantage they had was that no one knew what they looked like, how many they were, or where they were headed. If they could make it out of town with the fleeing crowds, they might be okay, though that was looking questionable.

  The crowds were thinning.

  Too many were breaking off, probably returning to their homes, or those of friends. By the time his team reached the edge of town, they might be the only ones trying to leave.

  And then there was Alia Monroe.

  “Control, Zero-Two. Any eyes on the target, over?”

  “Affirmative, Zero-Two. The target is north of your position, approximately five klicks, over.”

  Red cursed, he and his team evacing in the wrong direction to help her, their SUV left by the Canadians positioned south of the city. “Any way to encourage them to change direction? A drone strike in their path might have them thinking twice about heading north.”

  “Stand by, Zero-Two.”

  Huh, they’re actually considering it.

  He spotted the edge of town, two technicals—Nissan pickups with .50 caliber machine guns mounted in the cargo bed—blocked the road, about a dozen ISIS “soldiers” waving down the few stragglers still fleeing.

  He smiled.

  “That’s our way out, boys. Let’s take out the hostiles. Try to watch for civilians, but remember, these guys were all here to buy sex slaves, so if you happen to hit one—”

  Niner cut him off. “I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight, either way.”

  Red reached under the burqa and pulled his Glock, letting the long sleeves keep it hidden from view as he closed the distance to the hostiles. Atlas was on his left, hunched over, a few paces behind, Niner and Spock on the other side of the street as Jimmy and Mickey watched their sixes.

  One of the fighters who mistakenly thought he was in charge raised his hand, yelling in Arabic for them to turn around. Red raised his weapon and double-tapped the man’s chest as the others opened up on the unsuspecting enemy.

  It took seconds.

  “Check for keys.”

  Niner hauled open the door of the first technical, the engine roaring to life, Spock doing the same with the second. He gave a thumbs up. “We’ve got joy!”

  Red motioned to the rest of his team. “Let’s move!”

  He leaped into the back of Niner’s vehicle as more ISIS fighters poured toward them, the gunshots having drawn their attention. He actioned the .50 cal as Niner raised a cloud of dust with the spinning tires, Atlas’ iron grip holding Red in position as he opened fire on the enemy, Jimmy doing the same from the second vehicle, taking great pleasure in slicing apart the vermin responsible for one of the more disgusting displays of human depravity he had seen.

  36 |

  The Unit Fort Bragg, North Carolina

  Colonel Clancy’s heart pounded faster than normal as he watched his team clear the city limits, another image tracking Alia Monroe. This entire mission was a Charlie-Foxtrot, hundreds of hostiles closing in on the south of the city.

  “This is what happens when they know you’re coming.”

  He nodded at Sweets’ observation. He had screwed up, and he knew it. He should have immediately had Gina arrested, yet he hadn’t, not wanting to tip their hand.

  But he had underestimated her.

  He should have known she would have planned for such an eventuality, though how could he have known she’d be in the bathroom at the time of her arrest, and that she’d just happen to have a cellphone stashed there?

  His eyes narrowed.

  Too big a coincidence.

  He turned to one of the MPs. “I want this building searched, top to bottom. See if she’s got any other cellphones stashed. There’s no way there was just one.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  But that doesn’t help us now.

  Sweets pointed at the screen. “Sir, they’re about to be cut off.”

  “Okay, roll package X-Ray-Sierra. I want gunships and Black Hawks in the area, ASAP. And contact the Canadians. Let them know what’s happening.”

  “Roger that, rolling package. ETA ten minutes.”

  Clancy cursed.

  An eternity.

  This wasn’t supposed to be happening, yet it was, and at the moment, they had nothing to show for their efforts. He watched the vehicle continue to race north. “Do we have a Predator in the area?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Blow the shit out of that road ahead of them, see if we can turn them south.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Maybe we can salvage something out of this mess.

  37 |

  ISIS Held Territory South of Thawrah, Syria

  Red sat in the back of the pickup, there enough distance between them and the disorganized enemy for him to not waste any more bullets. His frown deepened as he received an update from Control. It wasn’t good.

  “Okay, boys, we’re going to have company.”

  Atlas grunted. “Yeah, from everywhere.”

  “Yup. Evac is nine minutes out, hostiles are coming from all directions.”

  Niner poked his head through the window of the cab for a moment. “Any idea where the softest part of their line is?”

  “One-One, Control. Stick to this road.”

  Red leaned down to be heard easier over the comms. “We’ll use the fifty cals to punch a hole through.”

  “I wish we had our other gear,” said Jimmy over the comms. “It’s just two minutes from here.”

  Red dismissed the suggestion. “It’s two minutes off this road then back. We’ve got hostiles on our asses. Let’s stick to the plan and hope those choppers get here a little sooner.” He kicked the box of ammo near his feet and frowned. He flicked it open with his boot.

  Empty.

  He pointed at the other boxes. “How much ammo do we have?”

  Atlas began opening the six boxes, five empty. He looked up at Red. “Better make them count.”

  38 |

  ISIS Held Territory East of Thawrah, Syria

  Warrant Officer Logan chewed the closest thing he’d found to a donair in this desert paradise, it no comparison to those he enjoyed in Halifax. Then again, this was a war zone, so he couldn’t compla
in. He wiped some stray garlic sauce off his thick beard, a clean-shaven face too obvious in the scopes of snipers.

  “Warrant!”

  He looked over at Ahmad Ghazi, the commander of the Peshmerga unit he was helping “train”. “What’s up?”

  “Your American friends are in trouble.”

  Logan frowned, expecting this. The mission was hush-hush, so he wasn’t privy to the comm frequency or decryption code to monitor what was going on, but Ghazi’s people had eyes and cellphones on the ground.

  So better intel than him.

  He glanced over at St. Denis. “Time to be proactive, I guess.” He rose and stretched, then turned to Ghazi. “Did I hear you say that you’d like to do some close quarters combat training west of here?”

  Ghazi gave him a big, blackened smile. “Yes.”

  “But I thought it was enemy territory?”

  The smile grew. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. We liberated that area yesterday. It’s perfectly safe.”

  Logan smacked his hands together. “Great, I’ll take the word of my ally. How many men would you like to train?”

  “I can spare six.”

  “Good, let’s go.”

  He scarfed down the rest of his wrap then breathed on St. Denis, who winced. “Tabarnac, you kiss your wife with that mouth?”

  “No, I kiss your wife with that mouth. Besides, why do you think all the donair shops have two-for-one deals? One for you, one for your partner, otherwise someone’s sleeping on the couch, and your couch isn’t comfortable.”

  St. Denis waved a hand in front of his face. “Thank God I don’t share a tent with you.”