Flags of The Forgoten

by Stallcup, Heath

  “And they won’t be able to.” Chesterfield attempted to explain but Colonel Nelson stopped him again.

  “You’re either very stupid or very naïve.” He tilted his head and studied the agent standing before him. “I’m not sure I can tell which.” Colonel Nelson sat back down and blew out a long breath. “Either cancel the op or find another patsy.”

  “But Colonel…it’s too late. Stage one is already in motion and the strike teams are in place to initiate on the primary target.”

  Colonel Nelson glared at the man standing in his office. “Then find another scapegoat. Bridger is off limits. If he’s associated in any way with Baba Yaga then you’re playing with a fire that you’ll never control.”

  Darren Chesterfield stared at the military man sitting in front of him. “They’re just men, Colonel.”

  “They’re more than just men, Chesterfield. Fuck with one of theirs and you’ll see what I mean. I meant what I said. Bridger is no longer your target. Go to an auxiliary.”

  “There are no auxiliaries. He’s our man. You signed off on him and even cleared the FBI flags protecting him.” Darren squared his shoulders and looked down at the man. “Like it or not, Bridger is our man. Baba Yaga be damned. If they try to intervene on his behalf, we’ll quash them as well.” He turned to leave then turned back. “We are the Federal Government, remember?”

  Colonel Nelson smiled slightly and leaned back in his chair. “Son, these are the kind of men who could topple the federal government if they thought their cause was righteous.” He leaned forward and pointed at the man. “But you do what you want. As I recall, it’s your balls on the line.”

  Colonel Nelson looked back down to the paperwork he’d been working on when Chesterfield entered. “You have your orders. That will be all.” He didn’t look back up as a pasty Agent Chesterfield walked out of his office.

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  ASMA ABU FAQIR paced slowly in her office. She glanced back to the chair where Muhammed al-Abadi had sat and she shook her head. She should have told him that these buyers were to be followed. Their intentions discovered prior to the delivery of the weapons they requested.

  Her phone rang and she reached across the desk to answer. “Yes?”

  “How are the tests coming?” a heavily accented voice asked.

  Asma closed her eyes and fought the wave of nausea that rose in her throat. “They are coming. Slowly, but they are coming.”

  “We’ve waited a long time for the weapons you promised. One hundred million is a lot of money.”

  “I understand. But I explained in the beginning that we had to construct the facility. Recruit the right minds…this takes time.”

  “Perhaps time is something you don’t have much of.”

  She fought a shiver at the threat and did her best to ensure her voice didn’t reflect the dread she felt. “If you are so anxious, I can release the product to you now. They aren’t fully tested, but it sounds as though time is more important to you than quality.”

  “You know what we want. You know what we paid for. You promised a specific timeline and you are well past that.”

  “We had unforeseen complications. Weapons of this type are not something to take lightly. As I said, we are nearly complete with our testing, but if you must have your product now, we can certainly arrange for you to get it.”

  She smiled to herself as she listened to the man breathe on the other end of the phone. “How much longer?” he barked.

  “A month at the most. We are quite confident that our product will not be detectable by the West. That was a major hurdle in our efforts, developing fast and effective delivery systems that would not be detectable by modern methods.”

  “And you’re certain of its efficiency?”

  “So far, the morbidity rate has been one hundred percent.” She smiled to herself at the idea that these savages would screw up and kill themselves. “We even tested the most common treatments against our developments and they were completely ineffective.”

  The voice on the phone was silent a bit too long. She opened her mouth to ask if he was still there when he finally replied. “One month. Not a day later.”

  She listened to the phone line click and she placed the receiver back in its cradle. She braced herself against the top of the desk and turned her eyes to the ceiling. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  12

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  ROGER STEPPED OFF the plane in Karachi and held a hand up to his face to fend off the wall of dry heat that assailed him. He could feel his eyes dry out behind his sunglasses and all moisture suck from his skin.

  “Good god, it’s like walking into an oven.”

  He took the short steps to the tarmac and half expected his soles to melt as they touched the scorched surface. “Over here.”

  Roger looked up to see two men waving at him from a Range Rover. “Where’s Bridger?”

  “At the office. I’m Steve.” Gibbons stretched his hand out.

  Roger clasped his hand absently as he looked to the other man. “I’m Deric.” Bundy nodded to the man. “AC is on in the car, if you’d like to acclimate a bit before we get back.”

  Roger slid his sport coat off and draped it over his arm. “Please tell me it’s hotter here than wherever we’re going.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Deric held the back door open for him.

  “God, I hope not.” Roger slid across the cool leather of the vehicle and felt the solid thunk of the door as Deric shut it.

  “Armored truck,” Steve answered before Roger could ask. His sunglasses gave away nothing in the rear view mirror.

  “Somebody care to explain why I just flew halfway across the world?”

  Deric hooked an arm over the back of the front seat and shot him a crooked grin. “You had a wetwork team after you, didn’t you? Odds are they won’t find you here.”

  “I have to go back some time,” Roger moaned.

  “Hopefully by then, we’ll have this mess straightened out.” Steve pulled the SUV away from the private runway and accelerated through the chain link gates. As they turned onto the paved city street, he glanced back again. “If not, you can hang with us. We’ll keep you safe.”

  “Something tells me I just got fired.” Roger closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. He felt his lids droop as the outside scenes whished by the moving vehicle. He barely registered the swaying of the car as they turned or changed lanes. The time difference was beginning to catch up to him and he drifted off, feeling safe for the first time since he’d left the motel room.

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  BRIDGER AND JAY stood at the map, talking with Ryan Lynch when the call came in that Roger had been safely picked up. Bridger barely nodded, but his relief was evident as the crease between his brows eased.

  Ryan pointed to the schematic of al-Abadi’s building pinned to the board. “The parking garage may be the best bet for grabbing the target. I really think that once he hits those streets, the difficulty meter will peg.”

  Jay nodded. “Too many variables out there. What about his security? Could you ID any of them?”

  Ryan shook his head. “They’re hired muscle but they don’t drive like they’ve had formal training. If I were to bet, I’d say he picked the two largest monkeys he could find and shoved a gun in one hand and a lot of money in the other.”

  Bridger scratched at his chin. “Is it always the same two?”

  “Since we’ve been tailing him, yes. Oddly enough, they either don’t change clothes or those grey suits and black t-shirt are some kind of uniform.”

  Jay nodded. “Probably so that he can pick them out of a crowd if he had to.” He pointed to the third floor level of the parking garage. “And you’re sure this is an assigned space?”

  “I don’t read Arabic, but each one has something different painted on the sign. Either they’re assigned parking spaces
or the neighbors know better than to steal this guy’s spot. He’s been using the same parking space since day one.”

  Bridger pointed to the schematic again. “And it’s directly across from the doorway?”

  Ryan nodded. “Fifteen meters. Whatever we plan, it had better be nice and quick.”

  Jay looked to Bridger. “Trojan horse?”

  Bobby shrugged. “Only if we can disguise the vehicle to look like something else. Maybe a van with Haji Oil and Gas on the side? Removable, of course.”

  Jay turned to Gregg. “Track us down some kind of public service vehicle. We’ll steal it if we have to.”

  “On it.” Gregg turned back to his computer and began his search.

  “If we use the van to block the exit of the parking garage we can move the target to something faster just before we leave.” Bridger highlighted the entrance/exit of the garage. “It doesn’t have to fully block both sides, just enough they can’t get a vehicle in or out.”

  Ryan sat back and leaned against the edge of the desk. “He’s probably got run flats on his car. We’ll have to be creative in stopping his vehicle.”

  Jay smiled. “We’ve got a disabler installed already thanks to Jim and Deric. We can hit it before he exits the elevator.”

  Bridger sighed. “If this guy is as big of a gun runner as we think he is, there’s going to be a lot of people looking for him as soon as we disappear him.”

  “We’ll definitely have to be creative in where we store him,” Jay agreed. “But that also plays to our benefit. There’s no honor amongst thieves and if he’s shorted anybody in the past, they’ll be the first people looked at for his disappearance.”

  Ryan pushed off the desk. “My job here is done. I’ll meet up with Marcus and give him a piss break. We’ll keep an eye on al-Abadi until time to strike. Give us a call beforehand so we can gear up.” He waved absently as he left.

  Bridger watched him leave then turned to Jay. “What if we’re wrong?”

  “About?”

  “About al-Abadi being the target. What if the CIA or NSA isn’t targeting this asshole?”

  Jay leaned against the desk and shook his head. “Gregg’s the best. He’s a one man Google. If he says that the odds are highest that al-Abadi is the target, then I’m willing to put my money on it.”

  “You’re not hearing me. What if we’re wrong?”

  Jay sighed heavily and avoided eye contact. “Then we’re all screwed. We’re in this as much as you are now.”

  “Not quite.” Bridger ground his teeth in frustration. “They aren’t doctoring photos of you entering and exiting the country. They aren’t giving you fake itineraries flying all over the damned country. They aren’t—”

  Jay placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re in this together now. This isn’t just about you. Whatever they’re doing, it’s no good. And they picked the wrong mother fucker to set up. Period.”

  Bridger nodded and turned back to the schematics. “I hope you’re right.”

  Langley, VA

  * * *

  DEREK CHESTERFIELD WENT through the company records for the men at Baba Yaga International. He felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the exploits of the men and the operations they had accomplished over the past years. Not all of their contracts were with the US government. Some of the hairiest conflicts were while they were in the employ of foreign nations.

  He closed the folders and slipped them quietly into his desk. He sat in silence a moment before logging back onto his computer and checking the status of the strike teams. They were in place and in a holding pattern until the demonstrations began.

  Should I call it off? Is Nelson right? Should he allow the strikes to continue and put a team together to set up another fall guy? The questions stacked on his already weary mind and he considered the possibilities.

  He glanced at his watch and tried to calculate the time difference. He knew he could get the strike teams to stand down and ex-filed before the project went any further, but could they stand to lose such a diversion? Would they ever get another chance to remove so many high value targets in one operation?

  He pounded his desk in frustration and squeezed his eyes shut. There has to be another way.

  He suddenly sat up and reached for the phone. He punched the number for the Assistant Director at the NSA. Robert Ingram planted the seeds for this operation months ago. Surely he could direct him to the correct path.

  Langley, VA

  * * *

  “HELL NO WE’RE not canceling the op!” Ingram’s voice echoed across the receiver. “I don’t think you’re seeing the bigger picture here, agent Chesterfield.”

  Darren swallowed hard and nodded into the phone. “I’m sure there are other—”

  “You’re not sure of anything, son. Director Jameson and myself worked on this for months before we came to you.”

  “D-Director Jameson?”

  “You didn’t hear that.” Ingram’s voice turned into a growl. “Just realize that there is a lot more going on here than simply sending a few flag burning demonstrators to meet their dear and fuzzy prophets.”

  “Of course, sir, I realize that. I was just thinking that maybe if we leaked the information to the Israelis, they could bomb the primary target and—”

  “What did I tell you about thinking, Chesterfield?” Ingram gave him a moment to reflect. “There are things in play here that are above your paygrade.”

  “No, I understand sir. I just thought that since these contractors are involved that we should—”

  “Dammit son, there ya go thinking again. Do I need to spell it out for you? I don’t give two shits if the Pope himself is taking a tour of downtown Karachi and decides to join in the BBQ, this op stays on track, do you read me?”

  “Y-Yes, sir.” Darren swallowed hard. “You do realize who the contractors are, don’t you sir? Colonel Nelson informed me—”

  “Chesterfield, there’s a reason that Colonel Nelson is behind a desk. It’s because he has no balls. He’s connected, so they can’t force him out, but he’ll never see a star.” Ingram took a deep breath. “You just keep this op on track. There are a lot of other factors involved here.”

  Ingram listened to the silence on the other end of the line then decided he’d better throw the man a bone. “Look. You know what the primary target is. You also know that the diversion is perfectly placed to feed civil unrest with the moderates. We can’t have anybody else come in and blow shit up, especially the damned Israelis. Imagine how that would look to the populace. They’d blame it all on Israel and the secondary reason for this operation will have failed.”

  “But, sir—”

  “No buts. We need the people of Pakistan to think that the whole thing was the insurgent’s fault. At first, they’ll try to blame the West for the casualties, and if they do, we have the perfect patsy. But once that primary target goes up, we have a reporter standing by with Al-Jazeera who is ready to spill the entire pot of beans on that primary location. Once the people of Pakistan put two and two together, it won’t matter who you set up for the flag burning incident, they’ll tie it to the primary target and with just an ounce of luck, there will be enough unrest that the moderates will finally rise up and drive the extremists out.”

  Chesterfield sighed heavily into the phone. “Perhaps we should drop the whole set up on this Bridger guy. Find another to take the fall—”

  “Who?” The irritation in Ingram’s voice wasn’t lost.

  “The guy we chose to set up to take the blame for the flags, sir. He’s the one who is tied to the contractors and—”

  “You just stick to the plan.” He could hear the phone rustle and knew that Ingram was about to hang up. “The chips will fall where they may and if this Bridger fellow gets squished, it’s his own damned fault for associating with domestic terrorists.”

  Darren heard the phone slam down as it disconnected. He stared at the receiver in his hand for a moment before placing it carefully back in its
cradle.

  “God help us if they ever figure out what really happened.”

  13

  Karachi, Pakistan

  * * *

  BRIDGER HELD THE Superman shaped USB to the light. “This is it?”

  “I sent everything I could find.” Roger sat heavily on the end of the desk and stared at the device. “Most of it is encrypted, but the titles of the files suggested—”

  “We’re a go.” Jay marched past the pair and through the door.

  Roger stepped between Bobby and the door. “You brought me here. Let me be of use. I can…I dunno, act as a lookout or something.”

  “Not happening.” Bridger loaded a magazine into the short barreled A4 and racked a round into the chamber before setting the safety. “You’re staying here. The last thing we need is for your face to pop up on some random video feed.”

  “So I wear a mask.”

  “And if shit goes south and you get shot? How’s that going to play out? A Federal Agent of the United States caught trying to abduct a foreign illegal weapons dealer on his own soil?”

  Roger squared his shoulders. “Bobby, I can’t just sit here. If I’m not doing something then I’ll go fuckin’ nuts.”

  “You just got here. You can’t be that bored.”

  “No. But I got a shit ton of ‘bad’ waiting for me back home and right now, I just don’t want to have to deal with it.” He lowered his voice and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Please, Bobby. I’ll sit quietly in the car. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

  Bridger exhaled hard and slow. He turned wary eyes to his long time friend and shook head. “This goes against my better judgement…”