Aruba Mad Günther

by T L Yeager

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve written a similar program so that all traffic is directed to this page when their browser makes a call to the internet.”

  “So the information on there is for what reason?” Ross asked rhetorically.

  “To keep everyone calm. This is very difficult. We want to hurt as few people as possible, like I said. To do this, we must provide information. Rules. This was my idea.” Anas sat up tall in his chair.

  Ross could sense that he was making progress. Some type of bond was forming, but he needed to be careful. He needed to stick with obvious questions and keep him talking.

  “So… What’s the point? Is it really about the money?”

  Anas folded his arms again. “The money is key. It fuels the cause and provides a good life for the leadership. Taking the money is a form of economic war. But beyond the money, our success here will provide the pulpit. Once our mission is complete, we’ll have the influence of a sovereign state. We’ll be able to affect change in foreign policy. This is something that violence alone has not accomplished.”

  Ross bit his lip, the concept and theory hard to reconcile. He wanted to relay something positive but the words wouldn’t come.

  “For me,” Anas continued. “The money is important, this more so.” He spread his arms wide.

  “This? What do you mean?” Ross asked.

  “Technology. Waging war this way will be my legacy.”

  “But the others. With the masks and the guns.” It was more of a statement than a question. Ross waited to see how Anas interpreted the words.

  He stood abruptly and turned to face Ross. “I’ve already said too much.” His tone remained soft, but Ross knew he had made an error.

  “I’m sorry. It’s interesting to me.”

  “In this case, death was unavoidable,” said Anas. “There are too many of you. Some were bound to try and run. Plus, we had to make a production. It’s the only way to get real attention.” He paused to catch his breath. “Seven billion people… Seven billion. Kill just a few and the world watches. Humans feed off it. They watch non-stop. The attention is what keeps terrorism alive. Reality TV.” The two of them stared at each other. Anas’s face showed a clumsy seriousness.

  “Well, thanks again for help—” The door to his right flew open and Ross turned away, shielding Izzy and nearly diving for cover.

  “What the hell is he doing in here?” said a new voice. Ross turned back. Every muscle in the man’s face bore rage.

  “Get out, Fazul. This is my command.” Anas put a hand up as if to ward him off.

  The man projected his fury, back and forth between Ross and Anas. “I’ll get out when I’m ready.” Each word was enunciated deliberately. His lips moved but his jaw remained still, teeth clenched. “This is what I am talking about, Anas. You do not think. Why would you allow a hostage in here? This man could overwhelm you. He’s twice your size.” He looked like he might spit at Ross.

  He pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of here.”

  36

  Kavita’s Café, Aruba

  “You know what, Chuckles… I’m done with the condolence bullshit. I got a thousand messages and almost as many calls.”

  Kavita had set Maddie up on the sofa beside Charlotte’s crib. Word had apparently spread that she was on the island but not at the resort. People knew she was cut off from Ross and Izzy. She’d fallen asleep responding to text messages and voicemails.

  “Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Maddie said. “What intel do you have for me?”

  “Alright, Mad. But listen. You gotta talk about it. You know that…” He went silent for a handful of seconds.

  Maddie said nothing.

  “There’s a shit-storm of activity. Word is that Delta and DEVGRU are both on alert. I made a few calls and it sounds like JSOC already punched the button. They’re deploying next door to Curacao. Completely off the chain to have both deploying as full elements.”

  Chuckles was referring to the Army’s Delta Force and SEAL Team 6 from the Navy. Seal Team Six was referred to within government circles by the acronym DEVGRU, thanks to their official title, United States Navel Special Warfare Development Group.

  Delta and SEAL Team 6 were elite fighting units. They operated under the auspices of the Joint Special Operations Command, JSOC, and specialized in counter-terrorism. They’d choreographed simultaneous missions in the past, but they’d never been directed to work together on a single target.

  “Sounds like they’re sending a sledgehammer, instead of a scalpel.”

  Chuckles didn’t have time to respond.

  “What about the ransom?” Maddie asked.

  “Still working on that. Speculation is the politicians will have to reconsider.”

  “Or wait until the payers get their people out, and then pull the trigger.”

  “Yup,” said Chuckles. “That’s definitely an option.”

  “An option that gets Ross and Izzy killed.” Maddie was surprised by her words. “What else you got?”

  “We’ve got recon birds on station. With the bluebird weather down there, they’ve got eyes on practically twenty-four by seven. Activity in the open spaces of the resort is minimal. Couple bodies in the pool and quite a few around the building perimeter. Best guesses are they took it trying to escape in the early hours. Somehow, they’ve got the place locked up now. Not seeing very much activity at all. It’s got people a little uptight. They’ve got over a thousand people in those buildings. Some up here are worried about mass murder. Like the ransom was a cover to give them time to kill everyone. Anyhow, I guess these guys have been sending emails with instructions on how to pay. Our people are able to respond and are asking for proof of life on the majority.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep going.”

  “Looks like they’re armed with some light machine guns. Intel is saying RPKs and Kalashnikovs mostly. At least two sniper rifles on the roofs, plus RPGs. Three or four launchers and cases of rockets. Intel is also reporting a case on the roof that looks like a shoulder fired surface to air system.” Chuckles paused. Maddie heard a page turn in the background.

  “They weren’t fucking around, were they?” she asked.

  “Nope. Took all the trimmings to play defense down range.”

  “No one saw this monstrosity coming? This is a huge operation, Chuck.”

  “Nope again. Looks like they came out of Venezuela. Our spooks have major blind spots in Venezuela. Been high on the risk assessment for a while now. They kill off informants and agents so fast it’s hard to turn people. Anyhow, the recon birds show a big yacht parked at the pier in front of the resort. It was last seen in Maracaibo. Fucking Venezuelan regime’s been inviting the terrorists in for a while now. It’s an open-door policy down there. You got enough money, then come on in.”

  “What’s the estimate on numbers?” Maddie asked.

  “Still working on it, but they think it’s quite a few. Maybe thirty or more.” Chuckles sighed into the phone. “Listen Mad, I’ll keep feeding you information, but you need more support than I can give you, sister. Where you staying?”

  “We’ve got some friends down here. Locals we’ve gotten to know over the years. Been real good to me and Charlotte. We’re fine.”

  “You oughta reach out to the Consulate and get hooked up with them. There’s all sorts of government headed your way. They’ll be able to give you a hand.”

  Maddie thought about it. “I don’t need a nanny quite yet, Chuck. Besides I’m on the lam. They tried to hold me up at the airport and I slipped out.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. They were holding up tourists headed to the resorts. They probably ended up flying them home. I wasn’t sticking around to find out.”

  “How the hell did you get by them with the kid?”

  “Come on… How hard is it? I got sent to the corner and told to wait for a newbie agent’s daddy to come see me. When he looked the other way, we walked out. The shitty part is I left our fucki
ng passports.” Maddie was still pissed about losing Charlotte’s passport. The damn passport had spun this shit-ass web in the first place.

  “Jesus, Mad. You better call the Consulate and tell them what’s up. They’ll get your ass out of there before the locals come looking.”

  “I think the locals are busy enough. Which reminds me, what’s their story? You got anything on the local response?”

  “They’ve been told to back the fuck off and to give these guys room. My guess is they’ll take that advice. Now that everyone knows what’s up—they’re focusing on evacuations. Then it’s wait and see. What the fuck do they care. Only a handful of locals are tied up in there.”

  “I’ll hit you later, Chuckles. Thanks.”

  After she hung up, Maddie walked back into the house and picked up Charlotte. She was sitting in the center of a circle of girls playing.

  “I’ll bring her back in a minute.” Maddie said, picking her up. Island schools were closed and Kavita’s kids had invited friends over to play with the baby.

  They walked to the front window. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and looked out. Their reflections looked back.

  “We had you so your sister wouldn’t be alone,” Maddie said. “You girls would always be a team. You’d have each other after Dad and I got too boring to hang out with.” She turned from the reflection and looked into Charlotte’s fierce blue eyes. Baby Ross started back, a half-grin on one side.

  “You miss Daddy and Sissy?”

  Charlotte reached out with a finger, smiling as she touched her mother’s nose.

  Setting Charlotte back in the circle, Maddie was struck by the contrasts. Like oil and water, the reality of their situation was divided distinctly between the unthinkable and the natural.

  She pushed her way through the squeaky screen door and stepped out on the front patio. The door needed assistance to close, the salty air having compromised the hinges. She walked slowly through the dusty side yard to the covered patio where Kavita had served food between restaurants. Maddie spun one of the seldom-used chairs away from the table and sat.

  Morning sun cast heat across her chest and legs. It had just climbed high enough that the roof offered shade above the shoulders.

  She rehashed the information from Chuckles and replayed most of what she’d read the night before. In the Art of War, Sun Tzu said, “To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.” The NJF had used the cover of darkness and harnessed the force multiplier of surprise. They’d come prepared, wielding overwhelming firepower and used both to take their objective intact. Ultimately, they’d brought their enemy to the field of battle using their own terms. Meet our demands or face the public murder of your citizens. It was fucking brilliant.

  They used the internet as a conduit and a noose, disseminating information and tightening the chokehold.

  The internet, Maddie thought. She turned over the phone she’d been tossing in her hands and called up Pich Tang from her contacts.

  37

  Surfside Resort, Aruba

  Anas had only seen Fazul one other time the previous night. He’d spent most of it combing the buildings with a video camera and tablet. They’d gone door-to-door, videotaping and cataloguing nationalities. The United States government had requested video evidence that showed proof of life for their citizens being held in the resort.

  Anas and his security team had knocked on more doors than he could count.

  “Open the door and show your face to the camera. Your country wants to see that you’re alive.” The team had completed every floor of Building One. By the time they were halfway through Building Two, Anas had grown so tired that he needed sleep.

  In the early morning hours, he posted the videos to the internet and fell to his mattress. Earlier in the day, he had two of the men stuff it in between the desk and the wall. It didn’t fit, the edges curled up on both sides, but there was room for one in the middle and it kept him with his computers.

  As he settled, it occurred to him that he’d never gotten food for Isabelle. They were just a few feet away, separated by the wall, but he’d forgotten because of Fazul. The email from the United States had come in as the two of them were arguing about his brother’s intrusion. Anas had gotten to work immediately, needing the task to calm his nerves.

  He slept just a few hours before he was up, rummaging in the store cooler for the last of the sandwiches. Isabelle’s face had brought back ghosts that had long ago faded from his mind.

  Fazul hadn’t been close to their sister before she was killed, but Anas remembered her like a twin. She was three years his junior, but as the youngest, she was mature beyond her years. So smart at math, she had helped Anas with his homework a few times, and was eager to read storybooks aloud whenever given the chance.

  Before the operation, Anas knew there would be death, but most of it was not to involve him. Dealing with the videos, and the thought of executions, swirled his gut sour. There was little chance the United States would pay the ransom. That made Isabelle a dead child walking.

  “Sorry about last night. Ah… My brother and I are very different.” Anas spoke the words as he stepped into the office and closed the door. Ross was sitting in a wheeled chair reading a magazine. He was in the cubicle directly across from the door and looked up when it opened. Beside him, Isabelle was facing away, her head down toward the desk with a marker in her hand. She stopped drawing and looked back at him.

  “Can I call you Mr. Anas?” she asked. “At my school we put Mr. and Ms. in front of everyone’s name.”

  Anas chuckled. “Yes, Isabelle, you may. Here… I’ve brought sandwiches. Also, some books and a game of jacks… For you, Isabelle.” Anas handed the heavy plastic bag to Ross. “Some cans of soda, chips and candy bars as well.”

  Ross looked into the bag. “Wow, thanks. We appreciate it.”

  “Sorry. I was busy last night and forgot.”

  “It’s no problem,” Ross said. “Thanks again.”

  “There are crayons and coloring books in the game room. I noticed them yesterday. I’ll bring some later this morning. For you, Isabelle.”

  Isabelle smiled then leaned for the bag, tugging on the edge to inspect its contents. “Do you want to eat with us?”

  “No, thank you. I have work to complete.”

  “Doritos! These are my favorite!” She handed them to her father, who opened the bag and handed it back.

  “That was your brother last night?” Ross asked, as he started to unpacked the bag. He set a sandwich in front of his daughter. “You can put the chips on it like you do at home.”

  Isabelle looked skeptically at the sandwich. “Is this like Sub-a-way?”

  “Yes, baby. Same thing. You just don’t get to pick what goes on it.”

  Isabelle curled her lip. “I like to pick, Papa.”

  “Next time. Promise. Just eat, sweets.”

  Ross pat her on the head and turned his attention back to Anas.

  “Yes. My brother,” said Anas. “Unfortunately, we do not always see eye to eye. We are very different people.”

  “How are you different?” Ross asked. He wheeled his chair to the edge of the cubicle. “Do you want to sit? There’s an extra chair around the corner.”

  Anas hadn’t planned to stay long; he did have work to complete. “My brother is a smart man, but he’s driven by emotions. This has never made for a very encouraging relationship between us. We have our own ways.”

  “That must be difficult. Especially in a situation like this. Very high-stress. Very emotional.”

  The word difficult caught Anas’s attention. In truth, the relationship between him and his brother had always been strained. Their father died when Anas was a toddler. Mother was pregnant with his sister at the time. Some years later, his mother had taken up with a man who was rough with all the kids when she was gone from home. She caught him hitting Fazul one day and sent him away. The next morning, she had a bruise on her face.

  When A
nas joined his brother in secondary school, Fazul ignored him in front of his friends. On the daily walk-in, Fazul would hurry so that Anas couldn’t keep up.

  “I’ve got a brother. I want to love the guy, but he’s just not a lot of fun to be around. You know what I mean?” Ross’s words pulled Anas back.

  “I do know. Being different is difficult. He’s not been himself. Always… He’s been difficult to work with. But here… More so, I would say.”

  “Well that’s probably not a big surprise. You all look like you know what you’re doing but it’s still gotta be stressful and that makes people act up.”

  Anas didn’t have a response and Ross continued. “How’d you end up with this group?”

  The question came out in a way that felt scripted. It made Anas wonder why Ross was so interested in talking to him. Anas turned away for a moment. Something told him he should go. He rubbed his face. Using his index finger he pulled moisture up from the inside of his eyes to the bridge of his nose.

  “You want a Dorito, Mr. Anas?”

  He turned back. Isabelle had her hand extended, the orange triangle there at the end. He reached for it. “Yes, thank you, Isabelle. So nice of you to share.” He took a bite, the crack of the chip seeming to fill the room. As he crunched on it, he remembered his reunion with Fazul.

  It was several years ago now. Anas had almost literally run into his brother. They were heading opposite directions on a street in Bangalore, India where they had grown up.

  “I don’t have a brother,” Isabelle said, again interrupting his thought. “Just one sister. She can be a little hard. She cries sometimes. But girls are better than boys. That’s what Mommy says.” Her thought complete, Isabelle turned back to her paper, picked up a marker and continued to color.

  “She seems to be a very unique girl.”

  “Thanks. She is pretty special. All heart, that one.” Ross paused and pat his daughter on the back. “So where are you from?”