by Brad Taylor
Amena.
Before I could stop the boat or even utter a word, my second-in-command was airborne over the side, slicing into the sea like a shark, and just as deadly.
I spun the wheel, circling around the fight. Knuckles grabbed the man by his hair and pulled his head back. The terrorist released the body beneath him and made the mistake of trying to defeat my best friend. In the water. He might as well have tried to walk on the moon without a space suit.
Knuckles speared his throat with a ridged hand, causing the terrorist to spasm, his arms becoming slack, the fight in him gone. Knuckles brought him to the surface of the water as if he were saving him, not unlike I had done with Yasir. The similarities ended there.
Knuckles torqued his neck backward, using his left arm as a fulcrum at the base of the terrorist’s head. He dragged his face under the water, bowing the torso on the surface. The terrorist thrashed like a child learning to swim, but Knuckles was relentless. I knew how it would end.
I returned to scanning the water, looking for my little refugee. Hoping against hope that she wasn’t sinking to the bottom of the Med.
* * *
—
Forced under the water, Amena grabbed the arms around her neck and raised her legs up, kicking out, trying to break the hold before she ran out of air. She made one feeble attempt, the water blunting her strike, and miraculously, his arms left her. She broke free, stroking away from him under the surface, swimming until she felt her lungs would burst. One stroke, two, then three, she kept going, knowing the minute she showed her head above water, the terrorist would find her, and she wouldn’t be as lucky a second time.
Her lungs on fire, she was finally forced to surface. She broke the plane of water, gasping for air, and found herself facing the bow of a sleek speedboat. Leaning over the side, his arm out, was Pike Logan.
She whipped her head to the terrorist behind her, and saw him floating faceup, his eyes open, dead. Swimming away from him and toward her was Knuckles, a grim look on his face.
Knuckles reached her and said, “Raise your arms.” She did, and he put his hands on her waist, hoisting her into the air high enough for Pike to grab. He pulled her into the boat, and she sat down, trembling. He wrapped her in a towel and said, “Are you okay?”
She nodded. He asked, “What happened to the drone?”
“It crashed into the boat. I smashed the controller, and it automatically came home.”
Knuckles pulled himself over the gunwale and flopped onto the deck, laughing. “How poetic. He had to jump over the side to avoid his own weapon.”
Pike squatted down and said, “You smashed the controller? I told you to hide.”
She looked into his eyes and said, “I got one. Remember that.”
He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, a gentle gesture. For the first time, she felt his emotion. Felt a small bit of love.
He said, “Yeah, you did, doodlebug.”
56
Colonel Lee hung up the phone and said, “They missed. Again. I told you Song’s security men weren’t up to this.”
“Was there any trouble?”
“No. The idiots just watched her walk back into the hotel, just like they watched her walk onto that boat yesterday.”
“Better to wait than do something foolish.”
“Except Song says he thinks they are leaving tomorrow. Their reservation is ending.”
Park sat down, saying, “That’s good. Maybe they consider the mission is complete.”
Lee slapped his hand on the desk and said, “It is complete! They stopped the Syrians. I knew this was a ridiculous plan.”
“We don’t know that. All we know is they stopped one of the men on the boat. Maybe they’ve lost the other one.”
“Does it matter? The man—if he’s not in an American jail—is running scared, and if he doesn’t attack, we can’t blame our attack on Syria.”
Park said, “What else could we do? What other plan could we have executed?”
“I don’t know, but we need to inform the general. We can’t put this off anymore.”
Park felt the blood drain from his face at the prospect. He said, “Wait, the Syrians were out of our hands. We can’t be responsible for them. That was all Yasir. If we hadn’t used our initiative to follow the Americans to Nice, we wouldn’t even have known they were there. It’s not our fault.”
“We knew that Yasir had been captured. We knew the general had ordered him killed, and that our attempt to do so failed. We knew that, and didn’t report it.”
“And you think reporting it now will be good?”
Lee shook his head, saying, “No. It will just get us killed, but we need to report something.”
Park said, “The key is our attack, correct? That’s all the general wants. That’s what the Supreme Leader wants.”
“Yes, so?”
“So we report our failure to kill Yasir, but only because he has disappeared. He slipped from Lucerne before we could give the order to interdict, not because of the Americans. As for the terrorists, we never knew where they were to begin with.”
“And why are we telling him three days later?”
“We were trying to find him, but could not. After all, he didn’t give us a time frame. He just told us to do it, and now we’re reporting back.”
Lee nodded, saying, “That might work. The ghost team is supposed to retrieve the second load of Red Mercury soon. They need to get it and return to their official duties at the United Nations before the Conference on Disarmament convenes in a few days.”
Park said, “Okay. It’s settled. Let’s get an appointment with General Kim. Let him decide whether or not to continue now that we’ve lost track of the Syrians. Maybe he’ll call it off.”
Lee barked out a laugh and said, “Oh, he’ll continue even if it means us carrying the Red Mercury into the conference. We’ll just lose the ability to blame the Syrians.”
At that, Colonel Park perked up.
Lee said, “What?”
“If the Americans interdicted one of the Syrians, they might have a sample of the Red Mercury. Even if it wasn’t used, it’s tied to the Syrians, not us.”
“They also have Yasir. He knows how they got the poison.”
“Maybe, but it still gives us more plausible deniability. Does Song know where the Americans are going tomorrow? Is it home?”
Lee sagged back in his chair and said, “No. He thinks they’re going to Switzerland.”
Alarmed, Park said, “Why would he believe that?”
Lee said, “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Maybe he’s just guessing because that’s where they came from.”
Park said, “If they go to Switzerland, Song will have to execute our plan. Losing the Syrians is one thing, but we can’t let them interfere with the ghost team.”
57
I shook my head at Kurt through the computer screen and said, “Sir, I told you this. I’m taking her to Switzerland with me. Do the research there.”
I saw his aggravation, but I wasn’t giving this one up. No way. He said, “Pike, we’ve done the research. Switzerland has no refugee program. France does. We’ve already coordinated with them. You just need to drop her off. She’ll be fine.”
“She’s been in a camp in Italy, and she’s afraid of the French. I’m not doing it. She wants to go to Switzerland, and that’s where I’m taking her. End of discussion.”
He rubbed his eyes, the precursor of the Pike Headache, and said, “Pike, you’ve got to check out that other bunker. You don’t have time to be dealing with a child. I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.”
“Sir, she stopped the damn terrorist. All by herself. That drone would have killed hundreds and generated a worldwide panic. I would think that would mean something to the mighty United States.”
&
nbsp; He drew back, unsure how to answer that immutable truth, and I deflected. “So, what’s the story with the terrorist?”
It had been close to forty-eight hours since our hits in Nice, and we’d spent every minute executing exfiltration operations, getting the terrorist and the device out of the country while wiping any trace of our tracks in the old town of Nice.
He exhaled and said, “Nothing much. He’s giving us detail into White Flag, and some old ISIS information, but he was just a soldier in the war. He didn’t even know Yasir was regime.”
“And the Red Mercury? What was that?”
Kurt smiled, perking up a little, saying, “That actually was a bit interesting. The canister you found is a variation of Sarin nerve gas, but it goes inert once exposed to the atmosphere. After about an hour, give or take, it’s dead.”
“Seriously? Sarin’s neutralized by sunlight, but it takes days, and any part in the shade is still a killer. They managed to find a way to get it to go inert in an hour, regardless of the atmospheric conditions?”
“Yeah. Apparently so. We’re checking it out here, but so far, it dissipates after an hour in the atmosphere.”
“Well, I don’t feel shitty about the boat, then.”
Kurt laughed and said, “That caused some issues. The Council wanted an EOD team to render the device safe.”
“And how did they expect that to happen? Alert a decontamination unit from France? Tell them we thought there was some strange shit called Red Mercury on a boat with a dead terrorist? You guys told me to make it clean.”
Kurt heard the anger in my voice and raised his hands, saying, “I’m with you, Pike. Sinking that boat was the best-case solution. But I had to do some explaining on the dead terrorist. It wasn’t like you blew the boat out of the water with him in it.”
I flicked my eyes to Knuckles, and saw concern about his actions. Not because of what he’d done, but because of how it would be perceived. I knew, if it had been me in the water, the results would have been the same, and I wasn’t about to let Kurt believe otherwise. I returned to the screen and said, “He was drowning Amena, after she’d stopped the attack. He chose to fight.”
Kurt studied me through the screen, and I didn’t flinch from his gaze. He said, “Knuckles was forced to kill him? In the water?”
I said, “That fuck chose his path.”
Kurt nodded, letting it drop. I heard Knuckles exhale. Kurt said, “Okay, I’ve got Alpha authority for the follow-on bunker. We don’t know the exact location yet, but we do know it’s not like the last one. It’s in the middle of the woods. The good thing is it doesn’t have the security of the one you tackled before. The bad thing is there’s no reason for you to be there. No way to rent anything for a prior recce. It’s a secret holding bunker for the bank that had the safe-deposit box in Geneva, where Yasir retrieved his cache of Red Mercury. Right now we know the canton it’s in, but that’s not a lot of help. Once we neck it down, you’ll have to hit it cold.”
I nodded and said, “Is there a time crunch on this? Can I do my own recce outside, or are you going to give me a grid and tell me to get on it within an hour?”
“Not a true time crunch, but under interrogation Yasir’s saying he thinks the North Koreans had a separate operation planned, so once I find it, I can’t give you a month. We don’t know what they’re up to, but they’re planning something.”
I said, “No issue. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow for Geneva. I’ll drop off Amena at whatever refugee office you can find, and then stand by for the location.”
He said, “Pike, come on. Leave her behind.”
I said, “Sir, that’s not happening. I gave her my word. Do the work. She’s earned it.”
* * *
—
Sitting on the counter in the bathroom, the water running, Amena let Jennifer brush her hair. She heard Pike pacing back and forth, fighting whoever was on the other end of the computer. He’d promised her the least he would do would be to get her out of France, but she didn’t believe that would happen. Pike didn’t care what happened to her. All he cared about was the mission.
Even as she’d sat on the boat, wrapped in a towel, distraught at what she’d been through, he’d coordinated to tow the terrorist boat far out to sea, and then had sunk it, like it was just another day on the job. They’d returned to the hotel, and he’d acted like he cared, making sure she was secure, trying to give her comfort, but she was sure it was an act.
Jennifer said, “You’ve got some seriously beautiful hair. I would kill for this.”
Amena had been forced to spend more time in the bathroom than she wanted, sent there so she wouldn’t hear what they were doing, and this time, she’d asked for Jennifer to accompany her. She was the only person Amena trusted.
She turned to Jennifer and said, “This isn’t fair. I caught one of the terrorists. You guys caught the other one, but I stopped the one about to kill all the people. I don’t understand how he can be so indifferent.”
Jennifer put down her brush and said, “It’ll be okay. Pike is the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. If he says he’ll take you to Switzerland, then he’ll get you to Switzerland. He asked what you wanted, and that’s what he’s going to deliver.”
Amena caught Jennifer’s eye in the mirror and slowly nodded. She said, “I don’t know if he really wants me to stay with you guys. He wants to get into a fight. That’s all. He’s a predator like all the others. He doesn’t care about me.”
Jennifer said, “That’s not true. He’s not arguing with Kurt just because you asked.”
Amena looked at Jennifer and said, “He thinks I’m a baby. On the boat, he called me doodlebug. I’m not a doodlebug. I’m a woman.”
Jennifer put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. Amena said, “What?”
Jennifer said, “He called you doodlebug? You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Right after he put me in the boat. Why?”
“That was the nickname for his daughter. She was doodlebug.”
Amena said, “His daughter who was murdered? That’s what he called her?”
Jennifer brushed something out of her eye and nodded. Amena looked at the floor, then back at her. She said, “Why would he call me doodlebug?”
Jennifer smiled and said, “Don’t worry about staying with us. Nothing on earth will prevent that now.”
58
Amena licked her ice cream cone and said, “You know, if you took me to America, I could be your maid. I’d work for free.”
I took a bite out of my Fudgsicle and said, “I’m afraid that’s a little bit illegal in the United States.”
She said, “Doesn’t seem to me like you really care too much about what’s legal.”
Jennifer chuckled and said, “Hey, you said you liked the lady we met. And you like Geneva. Didn’t you say that?”
We’d arrived in Geneva yesterday morning and spent the day waiting for Kurt to give us the bunker’s location. So far, he hadn’t—but he had told us what we could do with Amena. Turns out, the Red Cross was created in Geneva, and its headquarters was in the city. They didn’t really do any refugee work inside Switzerland, but after some high-level calls from members of the Oversight Council, they’d agreed to help Amena. Which was more than I’d expected from the Council. Kurt had obviously been at work.
Amena had fought the decision, but had finally succumbed to going to meet them when I told her the Red Cross program might be the only ticket to getting to the United States. It would take a while—maybe even a couple of years—but it was the surest route, especially with the contacts we had. She’d get to jump the line.
We’d gone to the Red Cross headquarters and met an older lady of about sixty-five. She had been extremely kind, and Amena had taken a liking to her, but she was still hell-bent on using Jennifer and me to smuggle her into the US. Just about every other senten
ce was something about it, and now I wasn’t sure if she was doing it just to aggravate me.
We’d spent yesterday getting settled into our hotel and coordinating with the Red Cross, so today, Jennifer decided to take Amena to see a little of the city. She’d found a place called Bastions Park, which was full of monuments, including the Reformation Wall, and a library from the University of Geneva. I was bored out of my mind, but little Amena had actually seemed to enjoy Jennifer’s tour, which was enough to convince me to continue. Sooner or later, we were parting company, and any happiness I could provide before that time was a bonus. Eventually, we’d stopped at a restaurant called Café des Bastions and had some lunch, complete with ice cream for dessert.
Amena said, “Why make me wait two years here, when I can go straight to America with you two?”
Gently, I said, “We’ve been over this. It doesn’t work that way. We’re not at home much, and we certainly don’t have the credentials you’ll need for sponsorship. That’ll come with the Red Cross.”
That last bit was a little disingenuous, because I could probably find the credentials if I wanted to, but we didn’t have time to sponsor a child for placement in the United States. It wasn’t fair to her.
She said, “It doesn’t work like that because you don’t want it to. Admit it.”
I said, “Unfortunately, it does work that way. Come on. Let’s enjoy the time we have left.”
She glanced to the left of the patio we were on, and gratefully let it drop. She pointed at several gigantic chessboards built into the grounds next to the plaza, the pieces the same size as her. She said, “You play chess?”
“I do. Do you?”
She smiled and nodded, and my phone vibrated on the table. I saw trepidation crawl across Amena’s face. She knew we were waiting for something, and when it happened, she was going to the Red Cross for good. I picked up the phone and saw the symbol for the Taskforce instead of a number.