All of a sudden, I had an idea.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” I asked.
Taylor laughed. “Yeah, my dad and I will be spending the day watching Eleanor open all of her presents.”
“The whole day?”
“Believe me, that’s how long it will take her to go through all of her gifts. My dad—Eleanor calls him Pepaw—goes overboard on presents for her when it comes to celebrating birthdays and Christmas.”
“So you don’t spend Christmas with your other relatives?”
He shook his head. “I was an only child, and my dad’s brother passed away several years ago. Kaylynn’s parents divorced when she was young, and her father died of lung cancer before we got married. Kaylynn’s mother is Eleanor’s only living relative, but she hasn’t stayed in touch since Kaylynn’s accident. I don’t even have a contact number for her.”
“She hasn’t come to see her granddaughter?”
“No. She’s Jewish, and after her divorce, she moved to Israel. The last time she saw Eleanor was at the funeral a year ago.”
I didn’t want Taylor to linger on that scene too long, so I changed the subject and asked him what Eleanor’s other interests were besides reading.
By the time we were ten kilometers outside of Arrayda, I’d learned Eleanor loved astronomy, hated dolls, and thought boys were dumb.
I more or less agreed with her.
* * * *
When we drove past a sign indicating how far we were from Arrayda, Mitchell leaned across the front seat and reminded me Olivia had told us not to enter the city.
“Jeremy knows that,” I said. “He got those same instructions from Olivia before we left the refugee camp.”
Taylor looked over at me and smiled. “You can call them instructions if you like. They sounded more like orders to me, but I got the message Olivia wanted us to bypass Arrayda and take the northern route instead. I’ve actually been down that road before, and if I remember correctly, the cutoff is just ahead.”
Jacob spoke up. “Why are we taking the northern route to Al-Mukalla? The coastal road is much faster. We’d be there in less than thirty minutes if we went that way.”
“We received intel indicating the Houthis have been operating out of Arrayda,” I told him. “It’s in our best interests to avoid a rebel stronghold. Our mission today isn’t about engaging the enemy. It’s about getting you back to the States in one piece.”
Jacob said, “I’m aware of that.”
Mitchell pointed at a sign just ahead of us. “Would that be our road?”
Taylor looked over at a sign with a faded arrow pointing left, and Shabwah Pass written underneath it. “Yeah, that’s it.”
Once Taylor had made the turn, the last vestiges of daylight disappeared, and the road ahead of us became shrouded in darkness.
As our world went from light to dark, I told myself the timing was purely coincidental and had we stayed on the main highway, night would have fallen there as well.
Still, the moment we made the turn, I got a very bad feeling.
To make matters worse, there were so many twists and turns on the narrow mountainous road, our headlights could barely make out what was just ahead of us.
We drove along for almost thirty minutes without meeting a single vehicle. Even Delaney noticed the absence of other cars on the road.
She’d just finished commenting on it when we topped a rise, and I spotted lights in the distance. The terrain was much flatter here, and as I studied the lights ahead of us, Taylor motioned off to his left where I could barely make out several abandoned buildings.
“The last time I was on this road, there was a thriving community here. Now, it’s completely gone.”
“That’s because the Houthis have been through here,” Jacob stated emphatically.
All of a sudden, without warning, there was a loud explosion, and the sky lit up. The next thing I knew, Taylor was slamming on the brakes and yelling for us to get out of the car.
“Take cover,” he screamed. “Someone just fired an RPG at us.”
* * * *
We quickly scrambled across the road to a half-standing concrete structure and took cover inside. A few seconds later, I popped my head up and stared over at what was left of an abandoned pickup truck at the side of the road.
The truck had been parked on the shoulder, barely thirty feet from our Toyota. The rocket-propelled grenade had fallen short of our vehicle and hit the pickup truck instead.
“What just happened?” Delaney shouted.
Her voice was louder than normal, but I felt sure it was only the adrenaline in her system; she seemed pretty calm.
“Someone just fired an RPG at us,” I said. “That’s a rocket-propelled grenade.”
“I know what an RPG is,” she said. “Who fired it?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Mitchell said.
I pointed at the approaching lights. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was one of the occupants of those two vehicles.”
“I agree,” Taylor said, “and I’d suggest we decide how we’re going to defend ourselves before they get here. It’s obvious those guys mean business.”
Taylor and I had already drawn our weapons, and now I saw Mitchell and Delaney reaching for theirs as well. Jacob was unarmed.
“I doubt if our handguns will be any match for the weapons they’re carrying,” I said. “Our best chance of survival will be to convince them we’re members of the American media, and we’re headed to Al-Mukalla to do a news story.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Taylor said. “If we were to get caught up in a gunfight with these guys, we’d lose for sure.”
Everyone else voiced their agreement.
Meanwhile, as we watched the vehicles slowly driving toward us, I took out my Agency sat phone and called Olivia in the Ops Center.
* * * *
It took less than a minute for Olivia to come on the line. I figured she’d already noticed our vehicle—which was represented by a pulsating blue dot on the Grid—had stopped moving.
It turned out I was right.
“Why are you stopped? Did you have a breakdown?” she asked.
“You might say that.”
I gave her a quick synopsis of our situation.
As soon as I’d finished updating her, she said, “I’ve identified your location. It’s a little village called Gharib. I’ve sent the coordinates to Captain Parrish at the airbase in Al-Mukalla to see if he can send you some help.”
“Our plans are to let them know we’re a news crew.”
“Unless those hostiles are trigger-happy, you’ll probably be able to talk your way out of this before the cavalry arrives.”
While I’d been on the phone, everyone else had been observing the approach of the two vehicles. They turned out to be pickup trucks with huge spotlights mounted on the roof of each cab.
The spotlights provided enough light for the trucks’ occupants to see both sides of the roadway.
The lights also gave us the ability to keep tabs on their activities.
As the lead truck drew within a few feet of the burnt-out pickup, Taylor said, “At least they’ve done us the courtesy of supplying us with a light source.”
“I’m guessing they’ve been out here laying mines or planting IED’s,” Mitchell said. “Why else would they need those spotlights?”
When three men jumped off the bed of the lead pickup and walked over to our Toyota, Jacob quickly pointed out, “Those are Houthi uniforms they’re wearing. You can bet they’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
As we prepared to show ourselves to the Houthi soldiers, I reminded everyone, especially Jacob, that the only person on the GNS crew who was supposed to be able to speak Arabic was Jeremy. He would be acting both as our spokesperson and as our translator.
I heard no disagreement.
I counted a total of twelve men in both pickups.
All of them had assault rifles slung across
their shoulders, and a couple of them were carrying rocket-propelled grenade launchers. A few men had sidearms as well.
It wasn’t until I saw their commander emerge from the cab of the lead pickup and begin looking over at the building where we’d taken cover, that I decided it was time for us to make our presence known.
“Okay, Jeremy, this is your show now,” I said.
“I’ve got this,” he said, holstering his weapon and removing his press badge from his pocket.
I told everyone else to keep their weapons drawn but out of sight.
When the commander motioned for a couple of his men to follow him across the road toward the abandoned building, Taylor came out of the shadows.
His hands were in the air; his press badge was in his left hand.
Although I was sure the commander could see the rest of us standing inside the building, we stayed where we were.
Taylor shouted at the commander in Arabic. “American press. Don’t shoot. American press. Don’t shoot.”
He repeated the words several times, but the Houthi soldiers were pointing their weapons at him and yelling so loudly, I wasn’t sure they could hear him.
Finally, the commander walked up to Taylor, grabbed the press badge out of his hand, and looked it over.
A few seconds later, he pulled his pistol from his holster and shot Taylor in the chest three times at point-blank range.
As he slumped to the ground, I raised my Glock, extended my arm, and placed a kill shot in the center of the commander’s forehead.
Seconds later, when I saw the Houthis running toward their vehicles and heard the distinctive thump-thump-thump of a helicopter overhead, I looked up.
It was one of ours.
Chapter 41
Tuesday, December 8
Within moments of the helicopter’s arrival, the Houthis jumped in their vehicles and fled the scene, leaving their commander lying in a pool of blood next to Jeremy Taylor.
What happened next happened quickly.
To me, though, the sequence of events seemed to play out in a kind of slow-moving hazy blur. At the time, I was aware I was operating on autopilot, and since it allowed me to function without feeling, I didn’t try to fight it.
In fact, I embraced it.
This held true for a couple of hours.
All I remember is introducing myself to Captain Parris and trying to explain what had happened while watching a couple of his men place Taylor’s body on a stretcher and load it onto the helicopter.
Once that happened, the rest of us got onboard with him.
When I heard Captain Parris order some of his men to stay behind and take care of our Toyota, I realized this was a task I should have seen about myself.
As the helicopter lifted off, I looked down as a couple of guys placed the Houthi commander’s corpse inside the Toyota. They’d wrapped it in the same blankets Jacob had used earlier to hide himself in the backseat of the vehicle.
Jacob was also looking down on the scene, and the moment the helicopter banked right and headed toward Al-Mukalla, our eyes met.
He stared at me for what seemed like a long time.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
I had no idea what he meant, and I didn’t care enough to ask him.
* * * *
Our time on the ground at the airbase in Al-Mukalla was minimal. Less than five minutes after the helicopter landed on the tarmac, we were escorted over to a C-12 military plane.
Captain Parrish introduced me to the plane’s pilot and co-pilot, but I don’t remember their names.
All I remember was walking down the aisle and plopping myself down in a row of seats away from the rest of my team members.
Although I told myself I shouldn’t do it, I raised the shade on the window and watched two soldiers remove Taylor’s body from the helicopter, place it in a body bag, and load it in the cargo hold of our airplane.
By the time we were airborne, I’d already gone over the events at Gharib more than a half dozen times, rethinking every decision I’d made, analyzing all the variables, and asking myself if Taylor would still be alive if I’d waited a few more seconds before sending him out to speak with the commander.
“Do you want some company?”
I looked up to see Mitchell standing in the aisle.
“No,” I said, continuing to stare out the window.
He sat down next to me anyway.
After he sat there without saying a word for several minutes, I finally turned and asked him, “What do you want?”
He didn’t flinch at the anger in my voice.
“I’d like to know what’s up with you.”
“What’s up with me? I was the primary on this mission, Ben. I personally asked Douglas to contact the DIA about Jeremy being on the Rebel Merchant team. Now, his body is in the cargo hold of this plane, and there’s a little girl who’ll have to live the rest of her life as an orphan because of me.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“No, I don’t imagine you do.”
“Hear me out, Titus.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You once told me not to allow my emotions to cloud my judgment, but isn’t that what you’re doing right now? No one forced Jeremy into accepting this assignment; he made that decision on his own.”
“I was the one who—”
“Sure, go ahead. Blame yourself. You probably think the decisions you made were responsible for getting him killed, but I heard Jeremy agree with every decision you made. We all did. Jeremy went out there to face the Houthi commander on his own. He did it willingly. He never hesitated, not even for a moment.”
“That’s the kind of man he was.”
Mitchell stood to his feet.
“Well, you need to think about the kind of man you are.”
* * * *
As I watched Mitchell return to his seat, I decided he was right.
I did need to think about the kind of man I was.
While I wasn’t exactly sure what Mitchell meant by his statement, his words reminded me of the conversation I’d had with Taylor barely twenty-four hours ago at our hotel in Riyadh when I’d described myself as a changed man.
I remember telling him I was a man of faith, a man who believed in prayer, a man who believed God was in charge.
Now, I realized I was acting like I was in charge.
I wasn’t.
If I believed God was a sovereign God, then I had to believe he knew what was going to happen before we ever showed up at Gharib in the first place.
While I didn’t comprehend what his purpose might be in allowing the events to play out as they did, I had to believe he was more capable of handling the responsibility for Jeremy’s death than I was.
Despite my grief, the thought of giving him that responsibility brought a smile to my face.
Moments later, I bowed my head and asked him to lift my burden.
A few minutes later, I got out of my seat and joined the rest of my team.
* * * *
Like me, everyone was in a somber mood. About the only thing I could think of to make them feel better was to let them know they’d be able to have a hot shower and get some rest once we landed at Thumrait Air Base in Oman.
“Could I call my brother from there?” Jacob asked.
“No, that won’t be possible, but I’ll know more about how the FBI wants to handle your return to the States after we get to the airbase. I have a feeling they’ll want you to get in touch with Daniel shortly after you arrive in Washington.”
“I’d like to do it as soon as possible.”
Since the Israelis had told us Jacob hadn’t made any attempt to contact Daniel in the last five years, I was tempted to ask him what the urgency was.
However, questioning Jacob wasn’t my job.
That task now belonged to the FBI.
If Frank Benson were involved, then I could probably find out what Jacob had to say by buying Benson a cup of coffee
, although knowing Benson, he’d probably insist on a full-course meal.
No matter what Jacob had to say about his motivation for giving the Saudis the MODD system, I knew I’d probably never be convinced it was worth the life of Jeremy Taylor.
I decided I couldn’t afford to go there again, so I laid my head back on the seat cushion and closed my eyes.
It wasn’t long before I found myself wondering how an eight-year-old girl was going to handle hearing her father had been killed in Yemen just days after finding out her grandfather was terminally ill, and less than a year after experiencing the loss of her mother.
I tried my best to block out those thoughts.
Seconds later—or so it seemed—I heard someone calling my name.
“Titus, wake up. We’re about to land.”
It was Mitchell.
As I rubbed my face to clear away the cobwebs, I realized I’d been dreaming about Nikki.
It was Christmas, and the two of us had been standing beside an elaborately decorated Christmas tree locked in each other’s arms.
I was deliriously happy.
I wasn’t worried about anything.
I wasn’t thinking about anything.
I was experiencing sheer joy.
Then, I heard a child crying.
When I let go of Nikki and looked around, I realized the sound was coming from a deep chasm just a few feet away.
I walked over and peered down into the murky darkness.
Sitting there all alone was a little girl.
When she saw me, she stretched out her arms toward me.
“I’ve lost my way,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll get you out of there.”
I turned around to ask Nikki to help me.
She had disappeared.
So had the Christmas tree.
* * * *
It was three o’clock in the morning by the time we arrived at the airbase in Thumrait. Once we landed, we were taken to the guest quarters on the base where the four of us were assigned to separate rooms.
When I saw the toiletry kit and clean clothes laid out on the bed in my room, I opted for a shower instead of immediately crawling underneath the covers.
Five Years in Yemen Page 39
