Maggie’s stomach rumbled.
Shirley turned and stared at it for a moment. “Pancake.”
It rumbled again and Maggie flushed. “Sorry.”
Shirley giggled. “Pancake.”
Another grumble.
The giggling turned into outright laughter, Maggie joining in. “I’m so sorry! I guess I’m craving pancakes! I’m so damned hungry, I’ve barely eaten since breakfast.”
Shirley settled her laughter, taking Maggie’s hand again. “Thanks, I needed that.” She sighed. “I’m going to miss this.”
Maggie’s chest tightened. “You’re leaving?”
Shirley nodded. “Yes. I’m actually here to say goodbye.”
“So soon?”
“Yes. I need to get away from here. Everything I see reminds me of him, and I just can’t take it.” She leaned in and gave Maggie a tight hug before standing. “I’ll let everyone know how to reach me when I’m settled in. It might take some time, though, so don’t worry.”
Maggie smiled. “I understand. You take care of yourself, and give Bryson a hug for me.”
“I will.”
Shirley left the room, her shoulders slumped, her arms barely moving at her sides, her footsteps shuffles. She was a shadow of the vibrant woman Maggie had grown to love over the past year, and it broke her heart. She leaned back in her bed and stared up at the heavens, tears filling her eyes as she clasped her hands under her chin.
Please, God, don’t let that ever be me.
71 |
ISIS Held Territory Al-Raqqah, Syria
“How are you feeling?”
Pete grunted. “Like I’ll live another day.”
Mary Todd gently washed his legs. “You don’t sound happy about that.”
“You wouldn’t either if you had jumper cables clamped to your nipples or nether regions to look forward to.”
Mary stole a glance at Pete’s private parts, covered by a dressing, their captors still not providing any bed linens or clothing for him.
“I’m up here.”
She tore her eyes away, her cheeks burning. “I-I’m sorry!” Her shoulders slumped. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never been with a man before. I’ve never actually seen, you know, one, before. At least not in person.”
“Uh huh. Well, I’m not sure what to say to that.” Pete paused. “Umm, good for you? Too many kids today are just giving it away.”
Mary looked at the floor, blushing some more. “You wouldn’t believe the pressure! Everyone says it’s just sex. Like that’s not a big deal! I mean, just because the Internet is filled with porn doesn’t mean that life is a porn movie.” She glanced at him. “But I did want to do it at least once, you know, with a nice guy, before I died.”
“You will.”
A single laugh escaped. “My first time will be with some pig who’s going to rape me over and over, then share me with his friends. I’m never going to know love.” She could see in Pete’s eyes that he agreed, and that her words affected him. She glanced down below again. “Could we, you know, try? I mean, if you felt up to it, could we? Just so my first time is with someone I like?”
Pete smiled at her. “You have no idea how tempting an offer that is, but we can’t.”
Mary’s stomach flipped, her chest tightening as she turned away. “It’s because you don’t think I’m good looking.”
Pete reached up and took her hand. “Umm, have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately? You’re gorgeous, and don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
She turned her body to face him. “Then why won’t you make love to me?”
“Well, for one thing, if we tried it, I think you would quite literally kill me”—she giggled—“and secondly, I’m a married man.”
She was pretty sure one couldn’t hear a heart break in reality, though she could have sworn she heard hers. She turned away from him and stared at the wall, her eyes filling with tears, it high school all over again, every boy she liked either already taken, or not interested. And the ones that were, weren’t the ones she was interested in. It had gone on for so long, the very idea of dating had become terrifying.
Now she’d never get a chance.
And that realization further galvanized her resolve.
The first chance she got, she was fulfilling her pact with Alia.
His hand touched her back and she turned to face him, knowing it must have been an incredible exertion for him to reach that far. She took his hand and placed it by his side. “You’re a good man.”
He smiled weakly, motioning with his chin toward the door. “Tell them that.”
“Can I just lie down with you? Just friends?”
He smiled and shuffled over in the bed. She stretched out beside him, her back to him, and he rolled over on his side. His arm draped over her, and for the first time since she had arrived, she felt human.
And loved.
72 |
Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia
“The drone is in position, sir.”
Chris Leroux glanced at Randy Child then turned his attention to the images streamed on the large displays occupying the front of the operations center, the Stepped Frequency Continuous Wave Radar devices on the roof still transmitting, the computer pulling the data and plotting it on cutaways of the three different floors. “Any surprises?”
“We’re assuming we’ve got an empty basement, two hostiles on the third floor, four on the second, and…” Child’s voice trailed off as he counted, Leroux doing his own mental tally. “Lucky thirteen, on the first.” He paused. “Ahh, this is strange.”
Leroux’s eyes narrowed, staring at the screens, not spotting anything wrong. He turned to Child. “What?”
“The room with the guy we figured was getting tortured, that had who we believe was Mary Todd in it, only has one occupant now. When did that happen?”
Leroux peered at the display. His eyes widened. “One much bigger occupant.” He stepped closer to the screen. “Zoom in on that.”
Child complied, the computer-interpolated image reconstituting quickly. “They’re in bed together!”
Sonya Tong’s eyebrows shot up. “Are they having sex?” She jumped from her chair, rushing toward the screen, pointing at the two forms, merged as one. “Maybe we’ve got this all wrong? Why would Mary be having sex with one of the prisoners? It can’t be her! And if it isn’t her, then our reasoning behind the other target being Alia Monroe is flawed.”
Leroux frowned, Tong right. If the two occupants of this room were having sex, then there was no way it was Mary, unless the sex wasn’t consensual.
“Maybe he’s raping her?”
Child’s suggestion almost sounded hopeful, and Leroux understood why. This entire mission, a mission minutes away from starting, was reliant upon intel they had put together, intel now completely under question. Leroux slapped his hands together. “Okay, people, quick review. We know he never leaves the compound. We know he’s taken from time to time into another room with one or two people, where we assume he’s being interrogated or tortured. He’s then returned to the room, where the second target was added yesterday, and this person remains in that room except for a single visit to our target’s room, where we are quite certain they hugged. Why would she and the tortured subject be in bed together?”
“Florence Nightingale effect?” suggested Tong. “She’s taking care of him, has developed feelings for him? They’re lonely, scared, they seek comfort in each other?” Tong shrugged. “I could see it happening.”
Child spun in his chair. “Could you now?”
Tong shot him a look. “Grow up.”
Child grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?” He jabbed a pen at her as he spun away. “But Sonya’s right, it makes sense.”
Leroux nodded. It did. He had seen it before, though not this quickly. And if it weren’t consensual, or if they were simply sharing a bed to sleep in, did it change the fact they knew Mary Todd was in the building
, and that someone had acted as if they knew their suspected target?
Tong raised a hand, getting his attention. “Sir, Delta wants to know if they’re a go.”
Leroux stared at the screen, his lips pursed, trying to sense what his gut was telling him. “Our target?”
“Appears to still be in her room, alone,” replied Child.
“Okay. Tell them they’re a go.”
73 |
ISIS Held Territory Al-Raqqah, Syria
The door swung open, the metal slamming the concrete, jolting Mary Todd awake. She leaped to her feet, rubbing her eyes, having fallen asleep in Pete’s arms almost immediately, it the first time she had felt safe in over a week.
And it was a mistake.
“What is this!” Marwan stormed in and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her away from Pete, who still lay on his side, too weak to defend her.
“Nothing happened! We were just sleeping!”
Marwan pointed at Pete’s naked body. “You belong to the commander! You are his alone! You don’t have relations with anyone except him, or who he says!” Marwan threw her against the wall then stepped toward Pete’s bed, belting him in the face. Pete feebly raised his hands to try and defend himself, but it was useless.
“No!” She charged forward, diving on Marwan’s back, trying to stop him. He growled and spun his shoulders, sending her flying into the table. She crumpled to the floor as he resumed punching Pete. She pushed to her knees, her eyes at table height, the scissors mere inches away.
She reached forward, clasping them in her hand, then struggled to her feet using the table for balance. She turned around and charged, plunging the blades into his back. He roared in pain and arched forward, reaching for the scissors embedded between his shoulder blades. Two guards rushed in as she draped herself over Pete, glaring back at the bastard who would beat to death this man she might love.
Something was said in Arabic, the shocked expression on one of the guards suggesting he had been told to pull the scissors out. After a brief back and forth, they were yanked out, she disappointed there was only blood about an inch up the blade.
He’ll live.
Marwan turned on her, his eyes afire with rage. “You will die for this. Slowly.”
74 |
ISIS Held Territory 30,000 feet over al-Raqqah, Syria
Dawson checked his gear then tugged on Niner’s chute assembly, making sure it was secure, Atlas doing the same behind him. The big man had insisted on coming despite the tape on his ass, payback for what had happened to Red enough to overcome any discomfort he might be in from the grazing he got on the last mission. Besides, the doctor had cleared him, which was enough for Dawson—and there was no way he’d leave the man behind for a scratch. Just as Dawson blamed himself for Red’s death, so did Atlas. He felt that if he hadn’t got shot, they would have been in the chopper sooner, and Red would be alive.
It was as ridiculous a notion as his own.
It was nobody’s fault but the enemy’s.
And tonight they would pay.
Dearly.
They were 30,000 feet over the target, about to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, and as far as he was concerned, there was no better way to exit one—at least, no way more fun—than a High Altitude–Low Opening jump. He checked his readings, his oxygen level good, his GPS already showing their location relative to the target. “Sixty seconds!” shouted one of the crew, Dawson and the rest of the team of six lining up at the ramp, already lowered for the HALO jump, wind howling through the fuselage, the sound muted by his helmet. He did another quick equipment check, everything he’d hopefully need securely strapped in place.
The jump light turned green, a buzzer sounding, triggering an adrenaline rush.
He stepped into the night, a smile on his face.
75 |
Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia
“Looks like somebody isn’t happy about the sexy times in that room.”
Chris Leroux nodded at Child’s observation, there now five people in the room where they believed Mary Todd was held, there clearly some sort of altercation occurring. “Looks like she’s trying to protect him.”
Sonya Tong smiled, her eyes wide. “That means he’s not her rapist!”
Child recoiled from the screen. “Ooh, is that green a little brighter?”
Leroux grunted. “I think he just got stabbed.”
Child cursed. “What the hell is going on in there?”
Leroux watched as the room emptied out, the bedridden target now alone, the other led into the room down the hall where her roommate had been tortured. He sighed. “If that’s Mary Todd, I think her time’s up.”
76 |
ISIS Held Territory 2000 feet over Al-Raqqah, Syria
Dawson deployed his chute, the massive tug jarring, if only for a moment, disorienting for the uninitiated. He had lost count of how many times he had jumped out of an airplane, though he couldn’t recall the last time he had such a view. It was pitch black, al-Raqqah under blackout conditions to defend against air raids, mostly from the Russians, the only light from the stars and a quarter moon.
And the thousands of rounds being laid down below them by the A-10 Thunderbolt IIs—affectionately known in the service as Warthogs—and an AC130W Stinger II, a heavily modified Hercules.
“Ya gotta love America,” laughed Niner. “Who else would put a goddamned howitzer in a plane then fire it from seven thousand feet?”
Dawson grinned, glancing over to where his display said Niner was. “Let’s hope they soften the surrounding area like they’re supposed to, or this is going to be a short trip.”
The plan called for attack aircraft and a gunship—two A-10s and an AC-130—to lay down a massive amount of fire surrounding the building, their computer guided firing systems incredibly accurate, the munitions capable of slicing through the stone buildings like butter. Anybody within two hundred feet of their target was now enjoying shock and awe, courtesy the United States Air Force.
Go get ’em, boys!
Mary Todd cringed as Marwan raised his fist, his face creased with rage, the verbal tirade in a mix of Arabic and English non-stop since she had been hauled from the room. She held up her hands to block the blow. “Please, don’t! We didn’t do anything! We just slept! I was tired!”
The clenched fist slammed into her chest, crushing her breast. She screamed, the agony unimaginable, until this moment she having no idea such pain was even possible. Another blow landed, this time on her shoulder, then her stomach, then her breast again. The pain quickly overwhelmed her, the sounds of her screams becoming muffled
Then everything stopped.
Everything except the pain.
She opened her eyes, tentatively, curious why he hadn’t punched her in the face, but found herself alone. The door was closed over, open a crack, and she could hear angry shouts from the hallway, the sounds of boots hammering on concrete as men rushed past the door.
And a thunderous noise coming from outside, the building shaking with the bursts of the loudest gunfire she had ever heard.
Alia Monroe bolted awake, the room shaking, concrete dust from the stressed ceiling floating gently down toward her as the plaster on the walls cracked. She could hear shouting outside her door, along with screams of fear and agony from outside the building.
She smiled.
We’re under attack!
By who, it didn’t matter. This entire area of the world was always fighting with each other. Who would win in the end meant little to her now. All she did know, was if someone were attacking the building, there was a chance she could get killed.
Which was exactly what she wanted.
Someone ran past her door, shouting in Arabic.
“Kill the prisoners!”
She smiled and rose from the bed, getting as close to the door as possible, her hand still chained to the bed bolted to the floor. She spread out her arms and closed her eyes, reciting a prayer her
mother had taught her when she was young, gunfire inside the building now echoing down the halls as the order was carried out.
Dawson flared his chute, touching down on the rooftop as the attack aircraft and gunship continued to fire, in shorter bursts, their function now suppression. He shrugged off the harness, quickly reeling in the canopy, it important nobody know they were there, at least not yet, a stray chute blowing across the street a dead giveaway. He pulled off his helmet, stashing it and his chute against the two-foot high wall that ran around the entire roof.
He spotted the two radar scanners inserted earlier by the CIA, their continuous scans essential to the success of the mission. “Control, Zero-One. Confirm two-three corner room is still vacant, over.” The others landed around him as he jogged at a crouch to the far corner.
“Confirmed, Zero-One, the second and third floors are now completely empty. Everyone has moved to the first floor, over.”
“Copy that, Control.” Dawson leaned over the edge of the building, the window about five feet below, well-lit from the fires now raging around them. Niner tossed him a rope and he grabbed an end, flipping over the edge and sliding down to the windowsill. He kicked the window open and swung inside, quickly scanning the room, MP5 at the ready. “Clear!”
Feet dangled outside the window and he grabbed them, hauling Atlas in by the belt. He headed for the door, Atlas getting the rest of the team inside safely. Checking the hallway, he found it empty. “Control, report.”
Forgotten Page 16
