by Glenn Ball
A man with a scar the length of his face stepped up to Valencia as if to challenge him. The giant glaring man then joined his compadre, his eyes never having left those of Adam. If a fight broke out, there would be thirty-two of them. There could be no way to win; even if he could, getting the better of them would ruin the mission.
Feeling inadequate it happened almost as if by reflex: a silent prayer flashed through his mind.
The response to his prayer was immediate. A scripture ran through his thoughts unstoppable like a train through a metro tunnel. “Yo iré delante de ti…para abrir puertas, y las puertas no cerrarán…te daré los tesoros escondidos, y los secretos muy guardados.” They can stop me, but they cannot stop my God. With His help I will complete this mission no matter the obstructions. The thought charged him with unspeakable confidence.
Valencia nodded his head in the direction of the hallway, hoping they would back off the challenge, realizing that he merely wanted to leave them in peace. A third man with bushy eyebrows and a thick mustache stepped into the hallway, and the giant followed him. They had understood the nod to indicate that Adam wanted to take the fight outside.
Nudging Adam into the hallway Scar followed him right on his heal. They were barely ten feet into the passageway when Scar pushed him from behind into the first two.
They stood with their feet apart, ready to grab him by the arms as he fell into them. They were not ready for his next moves. He caught his balance stretching his left leg well out in front, giving him a point of strength from which to jam his right elbow backward and upward into the chin of the mustache man on his right as the giant leaned forward to put his hands around Adam’s arm.
The giant on the left reacted by trying to pull Valencia away from the man on the right who was now falling helplessly backward. Adam used the leverage of the giant pulling to add force to a hard, straight jab to the nose of his assailant. Planting his right foot just behind that man he started to ram the butt of his left hand upward with force into the broken nose, pushing the cartilage into the brain. Realizing he was going to go too far and would spoil his mission with the attention it would draw by killing the man, he compromised his strike, merely pushing the man over his leg. The man nevertheless banged his head on the wall behind him as he fell backward, knocking him unconscious.
With his right foot still planted, Captain Valencia drove a strategic punch straight into the throat of the scar-faced man charging him from behind. Scar gasped, struggling for air and now unable to cry out for help. Adam powered his right knee into the man’s stomach. With the man doubled over he grabbed him around the neck and squeezed the remaining air from him, leaving him unconscious in the shadows.
Turning again to the mustache man that he’d struck with his elbow he barely stepped aside in time as the man bared down on him. Even as the breeze of the mustache man passed by, Adam thrust the back of his arm into the man’s backside, pushing Mustache away with the man’s own momentum. With the extra time gained he got himself set with an aggressive push-off stance. Thrusting himself forward he took two running steps and made a leaping kick, catching Mustache again in the jaw just at the moment he was turning to face Adam.
With all three men out on the floor Valencia moved swiftly into the darkness of the tunnel.
********
It had seemed a miracle that he and Skip had been able to steer the raft to the shore before the current took them over the falls. With all their gear packed in watertight drybags it was easy enough to toss them over the edge of the cliff to the shore alongside the river at the foot of the falls. Their raft survived the drop as well. Having tied a rope to a nearby oak it was their turn to attempt the drop, only a little more slowly.
Van Horn had made such drops hundreds of times, as had Skip. But this time they had to battle it in heavy rain, with their fingers and legs numb. Sky noted his waterlogged skin rubbing off as he descended but continued by concentrating on Perle. He and Skip had looped the rope below their legs enabling them to repel safely to the bottom.
After reloading their raft and launching into the river again things were finally beginning to look up. Drenched to the bone they pushed on.
Suddenly the black clouds split in brilliant light. A crashing white streaked into the trees above them, exploding at the base of a thick branch. There was an ear-imploding crack as the branch plummeted toward their raft.
********
Adam moved swiftly through the tunnel to the next vent.
“I will go before you to open doors that cannot be shut.” He remembered his prayer.
He knew he was below the fans now, and that it was again safe to enter the ventilator system.
Rapidly he replaced the grille behind him and was on his way, intent on making up for lost time. Picturing the hand-drawn blueprints in his mind, he moved like a cat, following the ventilator in a direct route to Abdul Al-Faheem’s quarters.
Eventually dim rays of light emanated through a grille and he could barely make out muffled voices. With his face to the grille he discerned the silhouettes of the two men sitting in the middle of the plush room.
Cautiously he removed a spy camera from a hidden pouch in his clothing. The camera was tiny yet took video in HD and had a built-in high-definition microphone. Holding its long neck, he extended the camera into the grille, careful to keep it in the shadow of the grille.
With an earbud in place he could make out what they were saying. One spoke broken Spanish. Valencia zoomed in the camera on him. From their scattered surveillance photos of him Adam recognized this as Abdul. He snapped numerous photos.
The other man responded in fluent Spanish, speaking a little slowly, presumably for Abdul to follow. His voice sounded oddly familiar. Turning the camera toward the Mexican Valencia began taking more photos, the video pausing as each photo snapped. Glancing at the photos Adam’s jaw dropped. It was his cruel sergeant from his first tour of Iraq. He’d always suspected the sergeant of corruption. Now his suspicions were confirmed.
Valencia noted that the mood between them was intense. They were discussing something about a prostitute.
After everything grew quiet for a few moments the tension was over. Abdul was leaning over a tiny table between them where he poured a drink of some sort.
“To XL23, to our success, and to Allah!” he declared. They clanked their glasses.
Like a coffin lid closing upon the world the room went dark.
“The generator has finally failed. It will take maybe five minutes, then the back-up generator will be running, and we will have light and air again. In the meantime, the candles will suffice.”
At that moment Adam realized two things: the moment for catching their meeting on camera had passed; it was time to scramble out of the compound.
Taking advantage of the fans having been shut down by lack of electricity he made a beeline through the ventilator system to the levels above, this time avoiding the risky detour. He made it through the fans before their blades swung into motion.
Once out of the compound he followed his GPS back to his motorcycle. By this time the storm was nearly past. Before anyone else came out of the bunkers he was long gone.
CHAPTER 29
Sparks
Ochoa had left right after the storm eager to take care of the final details before the attack. There was one issue that could not wait.
“Oscar here.”
Antonio pressed his phone to his ear. He could barely hear over the roar of the plane. “Did you get all the little “f***rs?”
“We are after the last one. He…”
“They are still not all dead!” Ochoa Machado yelled.
“Just one. He hid in a house. He and the woman got away…”
“Woman! What woman?” Antonio’s interrogations cut like a knife.
“The woman of the house. She’s a real looker. I just sent you her photo, ‘cause you may want her for a hooker.”
“So, you have them now?” Ochoa had put Oscar on speaker
phone while he looked at the photo that had just come through. But the photo was not from Oscar. It came in a message from Al-Faheem with a text: “Is this one of your men?” One of the cameras had caught Adam while in captivity.
“No, not yet.” Oscar continued. “But we have our Navaho tracker on them. He never fails.”
Antonio was pondering why the face looked familiar. Just then the photo from Oscar came through. It was an image of a framed photo of Perle with Adam in his uniform. As attractive as Susanna was his eyes were drawn to Adam.
“When you capture them take them both to the Castle.”
********
The mammoth branch had fallen like a flaming meteor, its sizzling point gouging the bottom of the raft. Aside from nearly capsizing the weather-beaten raft, it had left a hole that swiftly began filling it with water.
The water in the raft hissed and sputtered into vapor as it snuffed out the fire. Skip violently threw the branch over the side while trying to gain his balance.
After steadying the raft, Sky immediately dug into one of the bags, pulling out a roll of duct tape. In seconds he’d patched the hole. But shoveling rainwater now felt like a losing battle. All of nature was conspiring to keep Sky from his precious daughter. His back ached as he scooped out the water with bleeding hands.
********
Adam could hardly keep his eyes open. The return trip from Iraq had been a whirlwind, with a debriefing in Washington DC sandwiched in. Sitting in the back of the taxi he attempted to relax as the morning songs of birds welcomed him to his beloved hometown streets. The national forest that butted up against their yard was a far cry from war torn Iraq. He and Perle loved the cozy little town and its easy access to the wild, and the tranquility it offered.
Nevertheless, with the heavy issues that weighed on his mind even the scenery so dear to him could not put his mind at rest. Visions of towns like this destroyed by a chemical disaster made the insides of his eyelids water. He could not afford to be the cause of such a disaster being allowed to happen.
“Don’t bother coming home!” The words reverberated across his memory. As heavy as the impending disaster on the nation was, his own personal disaster gripped him even harder. What if she were not there? What if she had packed up and left him? He was not sure he could bear to enter an empty house knowing their marriage might never be repaired. What if the damage had already been too great and she refused to forgive him?
As the taxi pulled up to the end of the drive, he could see the front of their house. It looked normal, yet something seemed wrong. He could not pinpoint what made him feel that something was off, but the pit in his stomach made him fear the worse. She had indeed left him. The house was empty.
Over the years he had learned that he could trust his inner gut. As he carried his bag up the walkway it felt like cold water was being poured over the crown of his head and was spilling down his face. He had not been this nervous when he snuck into the terrorist bunker in Iraq.
He stepped onto the porch at the front door. Memories of her warm embrace welcoming him home and smothering him in kisses made his heart ache for those days of fresh love to return. Maybe by some miracle they could have something even better than that; a mature love that knows and accepts all the flaws of the partner and still embraces the relationship above all else. If she could forgive his failures and indifference of the past few years and choose to continue to love him, he would love her as never before. She would never regret accepting him back.
It was that faint hope that gave him the courage to open the door. As he stepped into the house it was the silence screaming in his ears that made him regret his courage. The house was as dark as a mausoleum. Something had clenched his heart and was wrenching it, wringing the pulse of life from it. It hurt.
“What’s the deal, you’re Delta Force! Buck it up soldier!” But as much as he tried to encourage himself, he knew this was not the kind of pain he could dismiss by sheer willpower. All his training at mastering pain had not equipped him for this battle of the heart.
His eyes having been adjusted to the bright sun outside magnified the darkness inside. The drawn curtains were a foreboding sign that Susanna had left him. It was not normal for her to close the curtains. She always wanted the sunshine to come through.
Something in the gloom caught his eye. There was a shadow where there should not be. Was it a piece of furniture out of place?
The time had come for the moment of truth. He reached to turn on the light. The flick of the switch was the first thing to break the deathly silence. What followed caught him completely by surprise: darkness.
“She must have had the electricity turned off.” The depression was smothering his soul like a murky fog. Going to the nearest window he drew back the curtains. Light blasted into the living room exploding all the shadows.
There are moments in life that stay with us; instances that can never be forgotten. When our lives are impacted at such moments, we know they can never be the same. This was that type of moment for Adam.
He had done his best to prepare himself for the cold hard truth of their separation, of her packing up; of her shutting off the electricity—the lifeblood of their home together—and walking out of his life forever. Everything in him told him he was not ready to see their home looking like a lifeless shell—a corpse of their former relationship—but he forced himself to look around as the light came in the room.
The scattered mess stunned him. It was nothing like what he had been expecting. Furniture had been turned over, drawers opened, and their contents splayed around the room, doors smashed as if with an axe; there were even holes in the walls. Confusion held him by the temples. He felt like he was going to throw up and to swoon all at once. He was as one having a stroke. Doubling over from the shock he tried to get a grip on himself.
He was not a stranger to monster Violence and the shock it produces. He had faced the monster in countless battles. But this time the monster had gouged him in the tender underside where all of us are defenseless; it had struck his home and family.
Though only a few seconds, it had seemed an eternity that he was doubled over. He stood up straight and stared for an unaccountable length of time. To him time no longer held meaning. He seemed to have been ejected from planet earth. His mind had disconnected from reality and was lost on some other plane somewhere.
After passing half a minute in this fashion he suddenly snapped back to his ultra-aware self. Bravely facing this new reality, he rushed from room to room looking for clues to what had happened and who had been behind the destruction of the house and hoping beyond hope he might find Perle hidden and safe somewhere in some nook of the house. His movements were nearly panic-driven. His adrenaline drove him hard; in barely more time than his stupor had taken he had covered the entire house observing every broken and topsy-turvy piece of furniture, every hole in every wall, and the smashed items scattered across every floor.
His desperate search ended with the photo of Susanna and him held caressingly in his hands. Strangely it had been lying broken on the floor of the kitchen far from its original position above their mantelpiece of the living room. How it had gotten there and why haunted Adam as if it were the key piece to a puzzle—the one that would illuminate how it all fit together.
********
The police had taken longer than he would have liked getting there. They were not completely convinced of the urgency of the situation from his phone call. Now that an officer was on the scene, he was not utterly convinced that Adam had not been the cause of all the destruction and possibly the disappearance of his wife.
“Oh, so you parted on bad terms?” The officer was making a note of it. “And where did you say you have been these past…”
“I didn’t.” Adam was visibly short with the officer. He was exhausted and getting annoyed at the useless line of reasoning the officer was taking. It did not make the situation better that he could not disclose his whereabouts due to their confidentiality.<
br />
The officer looked up from his notes to study Adams’ eyes. His own eyes revealed his suspicion.
“Look, if you will call this number the government will confirm my whereabouts.” Adam handed him a card with the number of his supervising general’s office at the Pentagon on it.
Several more frustrating minutes passed while the officer’s doubt of Adam grew. The Pentagon was not interested in speaking to some local police officer dealing with some marital spout. They had more important matters to address.
As Valencia watched the minutes wasting away his irritation was snowballing. He called the general from his smart phone and immediately got a response. Recounting the break-in and the idiot for a cop who was wasting precious time trying to accuse him while the disappearance of his wife remained unaddressed, he handed the phone to the officer.
The officer’s whole attitude toward Captain Valencia changed from accusatory to subservient, from arrogance to awe.
Adam took back the phone and mentioned his concern over the photo. “The intruders paid particular attention to the photo of Susanna Perle with me in my officer’s uniform. And now she is missing.” He moved into the breakfast nook to put some distance between him and the cop so he could talk in private. Looking out the back window he put his concern in no uncertain terms…. “Could this somehow be connected?” His question hung in silence, which he finally broke, “If my service has put her in danger, I could never forgive myself?”
The officer was watching him as he stepped away and suddenly felt ignored and left out of the loop of his own investigation. But now that he understood his place he did not mind. He kept his quiet and began to look around for himself. What he had considered nothing more than a marital spout and a waste of his time may have turned into some kind of international espionage that could win him a promotion if he solved it. Visions of grandeur and maybe even the FBI had taken hold of him. His coworkers that had always snubbed him would no longer be able to turn their noses up at him.