Dark Return

by DV Berkom

  “I thought you told me there were several children in that building,” she said, her anger at the security guard spiking. “Not to mention the assistant director and Doctor Dahmani.”

  Omar shook his head. “I swear to you I’m telling the truth. I don’t know where they went. Perhaps this is only a temporary stop on the way to wherever Hakim is taking them.”

  She nodded at Firas, a tall, burly man and one of the members of her team. “Take the truck and circle the village to look for exit routes they might have taken. If that many children were transported, there should be deep tire tracks showing which way they traveled.” Firas nodded and sprinted to the second truck. He drove off, leaving La Pointe, Omar, and another gunman named Ghilas.

  Omar peered at the darkened village through a pair of binoculars.

  “Anything?” she asked him.

  Omar shook his head and handed her the field glasses. “Not since your man entered the structure. He hasn’t come out yet, and I haven’t seen or heard from the second one for some time. I believe my earphone isn’t working.”

  La Pointe scanned the village, but nothing moved. “I’ll see if there’s another one in the truck.” She looped the binocular strap around her neck and walked to Omar’s pickup where she opened the door and peered inside. His keys were still in the ignition.

  She studied Omar before pulling a semiauto from her purse. She’d cut communication to his earpiece as soon as the advance team went into the village, not wanting him to hear anything that might make him suspicious. She was about to walk back to join him when Firas’s voice came over her earpiece.

  “I found tracks heading southeast.” He gave her the coordinates. “Do you want me to follow them?”

  She was too close to Omar—he’d hear her reply. Not wanting to alert him to what was happening, La Pointe keyed the mic twice for yes.

  “No other survivors, right?”

  Again she keyed the mic twice. She wanted the children left alive, which he already knew. Anyone else would have to be eliminated, including Omar. Ghilas glanced over at her. She showed him the gun. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement and engaged Omar in conversation as she crept up behind the unsuspecting security guard. She shot him twice in the back of the head. He collapsed to the ground, as though an unseen hand had cut through strings holding him upright. If anyone found his body, they’d assume by the method of execution that he’d been killed by Izz Al-Din or perhaps a Libyan soldier.

  The desert was still such a dangerous place.

  She said to Ghilas, “Let’s go. You’re driving.” She unmuted her mic and called the advance team as she walked back to Omar’s truck. “We’re following the children,” she said in a commanding tone. A woman leading men, at least in this region of the world, was a difficult undertaking—she had to act and sound more ruthless than any man. She hardened her voice to give her a psychological edge. “Be sure there is no one left alive in the village and then find us.”

  Her orders were acknowledged with two clicks of the mic.

  “Do you think it is a good idea to leave them behind?” Ghilas asked. “Firas will keep the children in his sights.”

  “I don’t have time for this discussion. We must not lose the children. The rest of the team can catch up to us later in the truck.”

  Ghilas nodded. He opened the door to the driver’s side and climbed into the pickup. La Pointe followed and slammed the door shut behind her. They drove off, leaving the security guard’s lifeless body sprawled on the ground next to the advance team’s truck.

  They’d know what to do with him.

  18

  AT THE TOP of the rise an engine turned over and then faded in the distance.

  “They found the van’s tracks,” Leine said to Jinn. “We need to move.” Her thoughts raced as she realized the attackers were after the children, not Jinn or Leine. She had to stop them before they caught up to Hakim and Dahmani, or the doctor and assistant director would be dead and the kids would be lost.

  She slung the dead gunman’s AK-47 across her back and shouldered the MP5 before handing Jinn the man’s backup pistol. “Put it in the pack. Be careful. It’s loaded.”

  “How do you shoot this?”

  “Point and pull the trigger.” Leine showed her and then flipped the safety on. “You can practice later. Just don’t point it at anything you don’t want to shoot.”

  Jinn placed the gun inside the pack with care.

  “You said there were two people in each truck, right?” Leine asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That makes two down and at least one who found the tracks, leaving three. It sounds like two of them just left in pursuit of the van. If that’s the case, there’s only one more, at most. Pretty good odds, don’t you think?” Leine said, trying to lighten the mood. She didn’t know how Jinn was going to react when the shit hit the fan, and wanted to keep things fluid.

  Jinn gave her a tentative smile. “If you say so.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The two of them walked into the other room and climbed out through the window in case someone was watching the entrance from the rise. It was close to dawn, so they needed to hurry.

  Sprinting from building to building, they made their way to the tracks leading up the rise toward the other vehicles. Leine scanned the area for more gunmen but didn’t see anything.

  They scrambled up the incline and slowed near the top, careful to remain hidden from view. Leine didn’t think anyone other than the advance team would be left behind, but she couldn’t be certain. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she dropped onto her belly and crawled toward the mound of sand Jinn had used earlier to get a good view. Jinn followed her lead, joining her seconds later.

  Parked several yards from them was a white four-wheel-drive pickup. There were no other vehicles. A large pile of what looked like rags lay near its front tire. She focused the binoculars and the pile became a man lying on the ground. Leine waited a moment longer, studying the terrain. When she didn’t see anyone, she and Jinn climbed to their feet and advanced toward the vehicle.

  Once she was certain he wasn’t moving, Leine checked the man for vital signs. There were none. He wore a security uniform similar to the one worn by the gate guard at the refugee camp. The two in the village had been wearing all black with no insignia. Had the abductions been an inside job? Then why kill the guard? They’d have to recruit another to continue to kidnap children from camp. She rolled him onto his side. He’d been executed with two bullets to the back of his skull.

  Leine opened the drivers’ side door of the pickup. The keys were still in the ignition. They obviously hadn’t expected opposition. Keeping the MP5 on her lap, she put the AK-47 behind the seat before she got in and started the engine. Jinn stowed her bag on the floor and climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door behind her.

  GHILAS AND LA POINTE sped along the desert terrain, eating up the miles between them and Firas. Soon, La Pointe was able to make out the back of Firas’s truck through the binoculars.

  “There he is. Faster, Ghilas.”

  La Pointe focused past the truck in the lead, and her heart beat faster. In the distance, a cloud of dust billowed in the air, telling her they weren’t far behind the other vehicle with the children. The chance of it being a random driver was low in this part of the desert. There were no nearby towns or villages, and the track they were on was seldom used.

  “Where do you think they’re going?” she asked Ghilas.

  He shrugged. “There is a network of caves several kilometers from here, but not many people know this.” Ghilas was descended from a long, distinguished line of Berbers—the once-nomadic tribes of the Sahara who, it was rumored, knew the location of each grain of sand. He was intimately familiar with the section of desert through which they now traveled. Indeed, it was one of the main reasons that La Pointe had hired him.

  Ghilas depressed the accelerator and the pickup rocketed forward. She checked her side mirror, but her advan
ce team wasn’t in sight. They were being thorough, she’d give them that.

  Twenty minutes later, Ghilas caught up with Firas and passed him. Thirty minutes after that, La Pointe caught sight of a van followed by a motorbike pulling a small trailer.

  “That has to be them,” La Pointe said, her heart pounding as the adrenaline kicked in. Once she had the children under her control, it would only be a matter of time before she’d be able to put her plan into motion.

  “What would you like me to do?” Ghilas asked.

  “Get as close as you can and I’ll try to get them to pull over. If they don’t, then we’ll take them by force.”

  Ghilas nodded and jammed the accelerator to the floor. As he neared the little group, the motorbike peeled off to the left in an obvious attempt to lure them away from the van.

  “Stay with the van,” La Pointe ordered. “Firas,” she barked into her mic, “take care of the motorbike.” Firas splintered off and followed the motorcycle.

  The van swerved and then sped up, but it was no match for the security guard’s four-wheel-drive pickup. Ghilas and La Pointe pulled alongside the driver. Hakim gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had turned white. La Pointe waved at him to pull over. When he recognized the camp director, resignation replaced the anxiety on his face. Nodding that he understood, he slowed the van down and pulled to the side.

  “This is going to be easier than I thought,” La Pointe said to Ghilas before she opened her door. “I’ll take Hakim.” Smiling, she walked toward the assistant director, who remained behind the wheel. Ghilas skirted the rear of the van to come up on the passenger side.

  At her approach, Hakim opened his door and exited the vehicle. “Please, Director, let me explain—” Hands raised in supplication, his eyes widened when he saw the gun in her hand. “There’s no need for a gun.”

  “Oh, I think there is.” La Pointe waved the weapon at the van. “Tell the children to get out of the vehicle. We’re taking them with us.” The van’s markings would make them too easy to track.

  “You can’t take them back to the refugee camp,” Hakim pleaded. “They will disappear like the others.”

  “I’m not taking them back.”

  Hakim frowned in confusion. “Then where are you taking them, if not to the camp?”

  Annoyed with his line of questioning, La Pointe sighed. “They’re going somewhere they’ll be useful.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. His expression morphed from resignation to realization to horror in an instant. “But...they’re children,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Exactly,” she said. La Pointe hid the gun as she shoved Hakim before her around the nose of the van. They stopped where Ghilas and Dr. Dahmani stood. La Pointe slid open the side door and looked expectantly at Hakim.

  “Everyone out,” he said quietly.

  None of the children moved. La Pointe partially eased the gun from the folds of her shirt and nodded at the children.

  Hakim closed his eyes and visibly swallowed. He opened them and said in a louder voice, “Quickly, now. We’re changing vehicles.”

  One after another frightened child climbed down the steps and huddled together near the van, seeking safety in each other. Some cried softly, while others looked on in confusion.

  La Pointe counted twelve before she spoke into her mic. “Where are you, Firas?”

  “I’m on my way back,” he answered.

  “What happened to the driver of the motorcycle?”

  “Taken care of.”

  “Good. Since you have a canopy on the back of your truck, you will take the majority of the children. We’ll put the rest in the other truck.” The gunman keyed the mic in acknowledgement.

  “Why don’t we use the van?” asked Ghilas. “There would be no need to separate them at all.”

  “Because the van is known to authorities.”

  Dr. Dahmani pushed forward, but Ghilas barred her with his arm. “Why are you doing this? Hakim is trying to save these children.”

  La Pointe shrugged. “I have a different idea.”

  “You can’t just take them away,” Dahmani insisted. “You’re bound by WCI’s rules. You’ll be fired and brought up on charges.”

  “No one will press charges.”

  “Of course they will,” the doctor said. “If you don’t bring these children back to camp, you’ll be guilty of trafficking.”

  La Pointe stepped closer and touched Dahmani’s cheek. The doctor flinched. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  The doctor glared at her, fiery defiance in her eyes. “Get what?”

  She leaned forward, shoved her gun into the doctor’s belly, and whispered, “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  A look of comprehension dawned in her eyes and she gasped. “It was you?”

  Firas arrived and pulled his pickup next to the van. He got out and came around the side. Opening the tailgate and the door to the canopy, he began transferring the children to the truck bed. Several burst out crying and reached for Dahmani and Hakim. The gunman ignored them and continued his task.

  Ghilas was the first to hear the distant thwap of the helicopter blades. He looked behind him. “Helicopter,” he said, turning back to La Pointe.

  “Merde. Take the children and go,” she said to Ghilas. “I’ll take care of these two.” She indicated the doctor and the assistant director. “Firas,” she called to the other gunman. “You know what to do?”

  “Already done,” he said. He shut the door and the tailgate, locking the children inside, before he climbed into the pickup and sped away.

  Ghilas sprinted to where he’d left Omar’s truck and brought it back to where the remaining children stood next to the van. Hakim put himself between them and the gunman.

  “You can’t take them,” he said, his whole body trembling. Whether from fright or anger, La Pointe couldn’t be sure.

  Ghilas grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the way. Then he picked up one child in each arm and carried them over to the pickup where he shoved them inside the cab before returning for two more.

  Fitting herself and the remaining children and Ghilas into the cab of the pickup would be a tight squeeze, but La Pointe didn’t want to take the chance of a drone or an airplane spotting the children riding in the truck bed, not to mention the very real risk of exposure. They’d be covering a lot of terrain, much of it desolate, and the sun would be relentless. No, she needed them in good condition for her plan to succeed. Luckily, Firas always carried bottled water in the back of his truck, and there was a limited quantity in the other cab.

  Once Ghilas transferred the last child, La Pointe told him to drive around to the other side of the van so the children wouldn’t be witnesses to what was coming next. “And see if you can rouse the others on the radio.” The gunman nodded and did as he was told. The two men from the advance team should have been there by now.

  Hakim slumped onto the step of the van and closed his eyes.

  Dr. Dahmani looked at him, incredulous. “Are you going to just let her take them?” she asked, indignation plain in her voice.

  Hakim put his head in his hands and didn’t answer. She turned to La Pointe.

  “What are you going to do now? Kill us?”

  La Pointe took aim with her gun. “You finally got it.” She fired two rounds into the doctor’s forehead, killing her instantly. Then she faced Hakim.

  “How did I not know it was you?” he asked, his tone bleak.

  “Makes sense now, doesn’t it?”

  He raised his head and gazed at her, sadness evident in his eyes. “Is this worth the money? Really?”

  “Who said this was about money?” La Pointe asked, and squeezed the trigger.

  19

  LEINE EYED THE RPMs on the dashboard, mindful of redlining the older pickup in the rising desert heat. They needed the vehicle if they were going to help Hakim and the children.

  Jinn sat as far forward in the seat as her seatbelt
would allow, binoculars trained on the horizon. Normally, Leine didn’t insist on wearing a seatbelt, but her maternal instincts had kicked in and she told Jinn to put one on, using the excuse that they’d be driving at excessive speeds. The thought of the RPG that had decimated the Land Cruiser was never far from her mind, and she wanted to do all she could to ensure the kid’s survival without scaring the hell out of her.

  “Take the phone out of my bag,” she said to Jinn, nodding toward the pack sitting on the floor at the girl’s feet. “I want you to call someone.”

  Jinn did as she was told. She turned on the mobile and Leine gave her Lou’s number to call. Then she put it on speaker.

  “Lou here. What’s your status, Leine?”

  “There’s been a new development. The kids are in a van headed toward the location I gave you earlier. But they’re being followed by at least two late model white pickups, both with armed occupants. Assume they’re wearing tactical gear and have automatic weapons.”

  “And where are you?” Lou asked.

  “We’re in pursuit driving a 2009 white Nissan pickup with an open truck bed. ETA is about twenty minutes.”

  “You said ‘we’re.’ Is there someone with you?”

  “I have a passenger.”

  “I’ll relay the information. The chopper is equipped with twin cannons so when you see them, steer clear. Don’t take any chances.”

  “Copy that.”

  Jinn turned off the phone and put it back into Leine’s bag before she resumed her position as lookout.

  Several minutes passed before Jinn shouted, “I think it’s them.”

  Leine squinted at where she was pointing. Something glinted in the harsh morning light and she accelerated, pushing the truck as fast as it would go.

  “Is it the van?”

  Jinn steadied the binoculars and nodded. “But two white trucks are there, too.”

  That meant the gunmen had caught up with them. She hadn’t heard anything over the earpiece in a while—they must have been out of range. The flat terrain of the desert would allow the comms to work at longer distances, but she couldn’t be sure of the range of the ones they were using. Coming in with the advance team’s truck would allow her to get closer than they could in an unknown vehicle, although she’d have to angle their approach so the sun glinted off the windshield, obscuring their faces.