“Wait…I can’t just…I gotta tell the guys that—”
“I’ll tell the crew what’s happening. It’s safer if you’re gone.” He pulled Roger aside. “You keep your ass alive once you hit home turf. If the guys can’t get out of here, they may well need you to tell their story to whoever will listen.”
“Nobody is going to believe me. I’m just an FBI agent.”
“If this situation doesn’t improve rikki-fucking-tick, you may be their only hope.” Jeff pulled a shemagh from the top of the file cabinet and wrapped Roger’s head. “Don’t show your face until you have to.”
“I got him a private hop to Orlando.” The tech handed Jeff a fake passport and ID. “You are now Dr. Joseph Blanke from Miami.” The tech smiled at him. “I made you a proctologist.”
Roger groaned as Jeff shoved the documents into his shirt pocket. “Stop sweating it, Doc. It’s not like anybody is going to ask you for a freebie in flight.”
“You’re not funny.”
“If they do, tell them you broke your finger.” Jeff shot him a sly grin. “Grab a coat. You got a plane to catch.”
Karachi, Pakistan
* * *
BRIDGER STARED OUT of the tinted windows as the team made their way farther from the city center and away from the black wall of smoke. Jay turned from the front seat and caught his attention. “Jeff sent us the GPS for a company safe house. It’s just a few clicks east of here.”
Bridger gave him a barely perceptible nod. He had tuned out the sobbing rants of al-Abadi and nearly jumped from the truck before the man calmed enough that he wasn’t bellowing.
Bridger’s mind kept replaying the events as they occurred. How had he allowed himself to be put into such a position in the first place? He’d always been so careful. He ground his teeth as he regretted allowing Roger to talk him into taking the contract job. If only.
“There.” Jay pointed to a two story mud brick building with a wall around it. “He said it used to be a hotel.”
“I’ve got signal,” Gregg announced as they pulled to the front of the building. “You guys should see the pictures they chose for us. They’re not flattering.”
“Move the trucks to the rear. See if there’s someplace we can stow them out of sight.” Jay grabbed his bag then pulled al-Abadi from the rear seat. “I’m gonna get this asshole settled in and we’ll figure out our next play.”
“Our next play should be to get the hell out of country,” Steve announced as he hefted the larger bags from the rear. “We’re burned here, man. They’ll have ISI on us before we know what hit us.”
“They have to find us first,” Jim said as he hefted the large containers holding their electronics. “I doubt they’ll be looking at any agency safe houses.”
“They will if they figure out our connection to Jeff,” Deric added. “Face it guys, we’ve been out of the government game too long. Our resources are limited.”
Viktor pulled his Dragunov rifle from the rear of the truck and tossed it up onto the cover over the porch. “I’ll keep lookout from the roof.” He checked his radio then shimmied up the pole.
Bridger pulled his gear from the truck and stepped aside as Jim slid behind the wheel and began to pull the truck to the rear.
Jay stepped out of the building and looked at his crew. “Where’s Batman?”
Deric pointed to the roof. “Keeping watch.”
Jay nodded. “Let’s get set up. We may have to wait until the storm blows over to make a move for the plane.”
Bridger marched past the other men and found al-Abadi withered on the couch in the main entrance. He grabbed the man and practically dragged him to the rear. “What was that facility that burned?” He tossed the man unceremoniously to the ground and stood over him.
Muhammed melted in the floor and began sobbing again. “I do not know. The widow claimed that it was one of hers, but I knew nothing of it.”
“Was it a chemical weapons manufacturer?”
Muhammed looked up to him with red, tear filled eyes. “I do not know. I had never heard of it before.”
Bridger fought the urge to throw the man through a wall. He clenched his jaw and silently counted. When he opened his eyes again, al-Abadi was a whimpering mess once more. “Has she ever sold chemical weapons before?”
Muhammed shook his head. “None that I know of. She tried to purchase old Soviet chemical weapons in the past, but they were too degraded and deemed unsafe to handle.” al-Abadi sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. He sat up and pulled his legs under him as he slowly rocked back and forth.
Bridger snapped his fingers to get the man’s attention again. “What became of the weapons she tried to purchase?”
Muhammed shook his head. “I do not know. This happened without my knowledge. I only heard of it through one of her men.”
Bridger growled low in his throat and began to pace slowly. “Who could have known about this place if her right hand man didn’t even know it existed?”
“I am not her right hand. I am only a broker for her arms sales.”
Bridger stopped pacing and turned to face him. “Then who is her right hand? Who does she trust as a second for her dealings?”
Muhammed shook his head again. “I do not think she trusts anyone.” He inhaled deeply and put on a brave face. “But whoever it is who knows about her dealings also knew what I had planned. They put the attacks together to implicate me.”
Jay appeared in the doorway. “I miss anything?”
“Just having a pow-wow to figure out who the widow’s number two might be.”
Jay gave him a confused look. “What difference would that make?”
“Nobody knew about this chemical weapons plant but the widow and whoever is framing all of us.”
Jay leaned against the counter. “Regardless of who her right hand man is, the fact is that the US knew about the plant.” He eyed Bridger carefully. “They used the protest and the flag burning to ensure that locals were affected. And they timed the two events so that the fire could be blamed for the protestor deaths.”
Deric stepped up behind Jay. “Why not just hit the chemical plant?”
Jay shook his head. “They couldn’t guarantee that the smoke would cause a high enough body count?”
Jim opened the rear door and entered. “Trucks are stowed out of view. It’s just a shed, but I got both to fit. Probably have to pull them out to load up again…” He trailed off as he caught the faces of the men in the room. “What did I miss?”
“Trying to figure out this mess.” Bobby leaned against the wall and eyed Muhammed carefully. “Somebody wants all of us to pay for this one.”
Steve walked in and handed a bottle of whiskey to Deric. “I found this. Cheap but potent.” He took in the room and gave Jay a questioning look.
“We’re putting pieces together.” Jay pointed to Muhammed. “He’s the unknown.”
Steve chuckled and pulled a chair out from under the table. Straddling it, he shook his head at the other men. “You’re going about this all wrong. You’re trying to assess this from an operator’s point of view.” He tapped the side of his head. “You have to look at this from a spook’s point of view. What was the goal? What steps did they take to ensure that the goal was achieved, and how many enemies could they burn at the same time?”
Jay gave a sardonic laugh. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Bridger asked.
“I was lost until Steve just laid it out. How many of their enemies could they burn at once.” He looked to Bridger. “You were working for the Feebs for some online infiltration, right?”
Bridger groaned. “They want to burn one of the online patriot groups.”
“And since you sounded the most dangerous…” Deric trailed off.
“Okay.” Bridger pushed off the wall and squared his shoulders, his mind slipping pieces together. “So, obviously, they wanted to burn al-Abadi or they wouldn’t have targeted one of his protests.”
“True.” Jay stepped forward and pulled the whiskey from Deric’s hand. “But is it safe to assume that the chemical plant was the main target?”
Muhammed’s eyes met his. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, was there maybe somebody special who was supposed to be at the protest that might be their main target?” Jay’s eyes pierced the man as he considered the question.
Muhammed shook his head. “Not that I am aware of.”
“Besides yourself,” Bridger added. “You were supposed to be there.”
“But I have told you, I am nobody. I am just an arms dealer.”
Jim stepped forward, his finger in the air. “Wait, so let’s assume that the manufacturing facility was the primary target. Why bother with the people in town? I mean, why poison the flags?”
Bridger snapped his fingers. “They had to ensure that the casualties were locals.” He turned knowing eyes to Jim. “Think about it. You blow up a chemical weapons plant and nobody dies? Who cares, right? The majority here in the Pak are Sunnis and most of them are moderates.”
“And…” Jay waved him on.
“Okay, imagine you are a moderate Sunni here. Somebody blows up a chemical weapons plant and only the idiots working there get dead. You blow it off. They were stupid for messing with that crap.”
“Okay.” Jay took another pull from the whiskey bottle. “And?”
“But what if the locals who are downtown for a scheduled protest get hurt?”
“A protest that they are being paid to attend,” Muhammed added.
“Right. Just your average Joe Haji trying to make a buck. You’re downtown, maybe bring the wife and kids so they can earn a few bucks as well. And the whole family ends up dead?” Bridger eyed each man, waiting for the light bulb to go off over their heads. “That makes for some pretty horrible stuff to put on the five o’clock news.”
Steve nodded. “And if they tie the deaths to the chemical plant, then suddenly all of the moderates are against whoever decided to put a chemical weapons plant in their town.”
Bridger touched his nose and pointed at Steve. “Bingo.”
Gregg shook his head. “But then why frame you?”
Jim held his hand up. “Ooh, I bet I know this one. In case something went tits up on their plan, they had to have a scapegoat. Who better than a red-blooded American patriot group member who sounded like he knew what the hell he was doing on some online forum.”
“Bingo again,” Bridger sighed.
“But why me?” Muhammed’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I have done nothing to—”
“You organized the protest,” Jay cut him off. “That makes you a pot stirrer.” Muhammed gave him a look of confusion and Jay sighed. “A trouble maker.”
Bridger growled low in his throat. “I’d bet money that somewhere in country is a Special Missions Unit pulling this black bag shit.”
Jay pulled his cell and entered a code. “I’m calling Jeff.” He punched in the number and pressed the phone to his ear. “If anybody can track their coms, it’ll be him.”
18
Langley, VA
* * *
DARREN CHESTERFIELD HUNG up his phone and sighed with relief. Deputy Director Ingram may want to hang this fuckfest around his neck, but he wasn’t ready to go down without a fight. He glanced at his checklist and marked off the last of the agencies that he’d alerted to Baba Yaga and Bobby Bridger. Between the team that infiltrated earlier, the Delta Force team that was in country now, and the stack of state agencies currently looking for the group, he knew it was only a matter of time.
His phone beeped and Chesterfield lifted the receiver, fully expecting to hear that the men had been apprehended.
“My office. Now.” Colonel Nelson hung up before Darren could respond. He stood on nervous legs and made his way out into the darkened hallways of the Agency. He glanced at his watch and realized that it was way past normal working hours. He could only assume that worst if Colonel Nelson was still in house.
He made his way to the colonel’s office and knocked firmly on the door.
“Enter!”
Darren swallowed hard and pushed the door open. Colonel Nelson knew who it was and didn’t look up as he finished going over the reports in front of him. “Have a seat.”
While I still have an ass to sit on. Darren sat across from the colonel and waited while he finished. He squeezed his hands together to keep them from visibly shaking.
When Colonel Nelson closed the folder and looked up, Darren Chesterfield could have sworn that the man was staring through his body and into his very soul. “I hear that your op has gone sideways.” He leaned back in his chair and continued to eye the younger man.
Darren took a deep breath and shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He saw the colonel’s brow rise slightly. “There have been some…unforeseen factors that have risen that may slow the—”
“Don’t try to bullshit me, son.” Colonel Nelson pushed away from his desk and stood. Even after a full day at work his uniform still looked freshly pressed. Darren was impressed, although he never have ventured to comment.
“I’m not, sir. I truly think that the op is still viable.” He remained seated while the colonel eyed him, measuring him up.
“Well then, please, do explain.”
Darren swallowed again and nodded. “The raid on the bioweapons factory was a success. We have tier one operators inbound to Torkham with samples. Actually, they may already have landed.” He avoided the man’s gaze and tried to swallow again, his mouth suddenly dry and his hands shaking. “It’s true that we’ve lost track of al-Abadi, but we may not need him.” Darren’s mind raced and he found himself smiling as a new scenario fell into place. “In fact, it might be better that he wasn’t present for the flag burnings in town. We could spin it so that he knew, since he was behind it all…and that his disappearance only proves his collusion.”
Colonel Nelson crossed his arms and gave the agent a stern stare. “Go on.”
“It’s no secret that Abadi is an arms dealer. And who better to pin the plant going FUBAR on than him?” He smiled at the older man. “Our insertion team and the Delta operators are all looking for Bridger and the Baba Yaga group.” He smiled broader and sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders. “And I had the different state agencies and intelligence services informed that they were wanted for questioning in response to the attacks.”
Nelson’s face twisted into a mask of rage. “You did WHAT?”
Darren involuntarily shuddered and stared back at the man wide eyed. “I, uh…informed—”
“Why in the name of everything holy would you do that?” Nelson’s fist slammed down on the corner of his desk and Darren actually jumped.
“I’m almost positive that they have al-Abadi. With everybody looking for them, we’re sure to find them in time—”
“Just how fucking stupid are you?” Nelson’s voice was a growl. “Surely you couldn’t have thought that tipping our hand this early was a good idea?”
“I…I thought that…” Darren’s voice trailed off.
Nelson shook his head and slowly took his seat again. “You just screwed the pooch, son.”
“How so?” Darren came to his feet, his face a mask of confusion. “We need to find them and having the locals aid in the search can’t be a bad thing.”
“Oh really?” Colonel Nelson leaned back in his seat and shook his head. “Think about that for just a goddam minute.”
Chesterfield couldn’t clear his mind enough to put the pieces together. He stared at the colonel open mouthed, his head slowly shaking. “I don’t…”
“Let me paint you a picture.” Colonel Nelson sat forward. “You fed everybody a line of bullshit to get your op green lighted. You claimed that al-Abadi was your primary target. You and I know that he wasn’t. The damned biowarfare plant was. And you knew that if the brass was aware of your real goal, they wouldn’t green light it because of the collateral damage. But you needed that col
lateral damage to turn the tide of public opinion. And, in the event that the whole thing went sideways, you needed somebody to pin the flag fiasco on.”
Darren nodded. “Deputy Director Ingram said he was gonna pin the whole thing on—”
“Ingram is an idiot!” Nelson barked. “You panicked and played your hand too early.” He pulled the report from the corner of his desk and slid it across to Chesterfield. “News reports are already tying your factory with the deaths at the protest. You got what you wanted. The moderates are calling for the heads of those responsible.” He leaned forward and glared at the younger man. “And now you’ve gone and alerted every intelligence agency in the Middle East to your scapegoat and his groupies.”
Darren swallowed hard and stared at the report. “I…I thought when Mr. Ingram—”
“Bullshit! You didn’t think. You panicked. And now this whole thing may well blow up in your face.” Nelson sat back and glared at the man. “And for the record, I still know nothing about this operation of yours. If you so much as mutter my name in your sleep—”
“I know,” Darren interrupted. “It will be my balls.”
“At least.” Colonel Nelson stood and walked to the corner of his office. He pulled his coat from the hanger and slipped it on. “You got some damage control to conduct, don’t you think?”
Darren nodded as he stood, the report in his hand. “May I?” He held the report up.
Colonel Nelson waved him on. “As I stated earlier, I know nothing of your operation, Agent Chesterfield.”
He held the door open and waited on the younger man. “Fix this.” He glared as Darren slipped out of the office.
“I’m on it, sir.”
Karachi, Pakistan
* * *
Flags of The Forgoten Page 16