With that he picked up a remote control and hit the play button before walking over and dimming the lights. All eyes went to the small projection screen at the head of the table.
Rad’s heart thumped once in his throat as he saw Lauren, sitting calmly at a table in a small, dimly-lit room. She wore a brown and tan headscarf, which accented her dark eyes and long lashes. Her arms were lying casually on the table before her.
From off camera a voice could be heard. Lauren answered the questions addressed to her in an indifferent tone and appeared relaxed and confident, seeming to be free of all knowledge or suspicion that any evil or danger confronted her.
Name. Aminah Umar.
“What do you do in Pakistan, Aminah?”
Before she could answer, the camera zoomed out so now both Lauren and the interviewer were in the picture. The man had a long, scraggly beard and dark, angry eyes. Rad gazed around to see if anyone at the table appeared to recognize him, but their faces were blank as they concentrated on the screen.
“I’m the Lady Health Visitor for this region.”
“I see.” The man’s voice changed and sounded strangely cold now. “And how long have you been in this position?”
“A little over a year.” Lauren sat back in her chair. Her relaxed posture spoke of boredom, but Rad knew the casualness on the surface masked something far more complex. “I volunteered at first because I—”
The man held up his hand and cut her off. “I see.” He chuckled and began pacing in front of her. “Well, Aminah. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we cannot be too careful… you know?”
“Perfectly understandable,” she said as she began to stand. “I assume I may return to my home now.”
He studied her with slant-eyed hatred that he did not try to hide. “Not so fast. First my men must process your belongings.”
The video flickered and went black before coming back to life. Rad’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the image. There was a different interviewer standing in range of the camera now. It was impossible to tell how much time had elapsed, but Lauren’s clothes appeared wrinkled and stained as if she had slept in them. Her hair was disheveled, and lines of fatigue marked her face. Never had he seen anything so frail and indomitable.
“Aminah Umar.”
“Yes.” Her voice cracked with exhaustion.
“What are you doing in my country?”
“I’m the Lady Health Visitor for this region.” The words sounded mechanical, as if she had already repeated them a hundred times.
“And you take pictures?”
“Yes, sometimes I take pictures.”
“Why is it Aminah Umar, you have pictures of these buildings?”
The man threw a stack of photos in front of her.
She did not waver or hesitate. “I like the architecture.” Her eyes went down to the table as if looking at what he had thrown there. “I take pictures of unique…”
He cut her off angrily. “Why is it Aminah Umar that this one—” He threw a photo on the table in front of her. “And this one—were attacked by your government’s forces?”
“General Mohammad, I have attempted to explain to you that I…”
His voice rose with fury. “Do not say my name on video! Do you hear me? No more say my name on video!”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, looking down. “I forgot.”
There was no doubt she had overheard his name and said it on purpose, and that she did not think she was getting out of Pakistan to tell it to anyone in person. She was meeting her fate as Rad knew she would, demonstrating utter coolness in her hour of deadliest peril. Her emotional resilience was admirable… but it terrified him.
Lauren appeared to gaze down again at the photos before her. “But this one, sir… this hospital we are in, was not attacked.” She held it as if to show him, but as she handed it to him she tilted it toward the camera. He grabbed it and ripped it to shreds.
“No more of your stupid tricks!”
The officer seated at the head of the table stopped the video and went back to the photo.
“We have a team working on this now. Anyone recognize the building she said is a hospital?”
It was blurry. No one did. But Rad was not looking at the building. He was staring at her face, at her eyes, completely devoid of fear. Yet he could see in them the knowledge of impending doom as he stared at her face frozen in time.
Before the general restarted the video he gazed concernedly around the table. “This next segment… it is the last… and I must warn you it is graphic.”
Rad saw McDunna glance sideways at him, but he kept his eyes on the screen.
When the video started again, Lauren was sitting in a chair at the same table, but her hands were now tied behind her back, and her face was bent down to her chest. She no longer wore civilian clothes, but the plain clothes of a prisoner, and these appeared torn and bloodied.
“Aminah Umar.”
There was no answer.
“Aminah Umar.”
“Yes,” came the weak reply.
“I apologize if my men have been a little rough with you. They are not like American men, eh?”
He laughed when she failed to respond, but it sounded more sinister than humorous. Rad closed his eyes and clenched his fists on the table.
“I understand you are quite a fighter… but those tranquilizers quieted you down, eh?”
No one failed to notice that the target of his jests began to shiver. There was no sound for a few moments except the heavy breathing of the prisoner and the sickening sound of her teeth chattering with pain or repugnance.
“Would you be surprised to learn, Aminah Umar, that I watch CNN?”
It sounded like the interviewer was standing now and pacing back and forth in front of the table, but he could not be seen on camera. His voice seemed to be getting louder and angrier as he talked.
“And on CNN they talk about this spy who helped American forces kill my friend, Ahmed Hasan Arif.” His voice sounded almost jovial now.
Rad felt all the blood in his body surge and throb in his head.
“And I think, no, it cannot be. Too much a coincidence that I have this innocent Aminah Umar who takes such nice picture.” He laughed. “But then I see your picture… on the TV.” He leaned across the table and pushed her head back violently so she was looking at him. “And I think, good news! I have American spy!”
Lauren’s eyes were watchful and guarded now, as if depending on senses rather than thought. Yet the spark in them spoke of defiance without saying a word.
Her silence seemed to infuriate the man even more. “American woman,” he spat, letting go of her head. “You wish now you stay home and be a good wife, eh? Act like a woman should? What you say to this?”
Lauren’s forehead lowered again as if she were too tired to keep it up, but the words were easily understandable. “I knew the risks.”
The man pounded his fist on the table.
“Yes, and you have encountered your risk… your nightmare.” He appeared to think of something funny and began to laugh. “Do you know what Aminah means in my culture?”
Again she did not respond, but Rad entertained little doubt she had picked the name herself and knew well its meaning.
“Trustworthy. Faithful.” The interrogator’s voice grew loud again. “I believe you will wish you did not serve your country to ruin mine, my faithful friend.”
Lauren lifted her head. “My country… will avenge any wrong.” She talked painfully as blood dripped from a split lip.
So steadfast was her gaze, so calm and defiant her tone, it seemed to Rad she was speaking to each man in the room, acknowledging her probable demise and challenging them to action and vengeance on her behalf.
“Oh, no, no, no. You are wrong.” The interviewer’s voice sounded gleeful now. “We have contacted the American authorities. They will not admit even knowing you. Your people will not negotiate for your life.”
“Didn�
�t say… negotiate.” She struggled to speak, yet her eyes showed no fear. “Get even.”
The tape went to black as if the camera was turned off but soon flickered back to life. It appeared to be the same interview, but Lauren’s forehead now rested on the table, not on her chest, and she was breathing hard as if she’d just run a race. Her hands remained tied behind her back.
“This is last time Aminah… Last chance. Understand?”
The loud, gasping sound of her panting breath was all that could be heard as she nodded weakly. Without warning, a man standing behind her wearing a dark mask jerked her head up by her hair. When the camera zoomed in, it took a strong man not to groan.
The left side of her face was so swollen the eye could not be seen. Her lips and mouth were bleeding and puffy as if she’d been punched. The right side of her face was purplish black and blue. There was little to recognize, save the spirit of that which was Lauren that flickered, albeit dimly, in her remaining eye.
“You understand?”
Her eye focused on the camera for a moment as if pondering how to respond. Then she turned her head slightly to the side and bent down to spit bright red fluid out of her mouth so she could speak.
“Yes.” Her response was calm, but she began to cough violently as if trying to clear blood from her windpipe. When she was done, she rested her forehead on the table again as if too weak to lift it up.
“Listen to me now, spy. You answer me like this when I ask question. You read this.” He stabbed a piece of paper with his finger. “You say ‘I apologize for helping American soldiers kill innocent Pakistani people.’ You say, ‘I am sorry the infidel Americans make war with sovereign country.”
He paused a moment as if watching her try to breathe. “Then, Aminah Umar, you say this, and we let you go home.”
The sound of rustling paper could be heard as if they were placing the paper so Lauren could read it for the camera, without it being seen. Rad held his breath as he watched Lauren nod with her head still resting on the table.
When the man pulled her head back up with a jerk, her eye drifted away from the camera, apparently toward the script she was being commanded to read. Again, she showed no sign of fear. Yet neither did she show any sign of hope.
Rad found himself leaning forward, breathless, a low roar building in his ears. Do it Lauren. For the love of God, just to do it.
But deep inside he knew this was not a woman who would consent to being used as propaganda by the enemy as long as breath remained. His heart beat frantically for what was about to come on a piece of recorded video that he knew was now part of the past. Something inside him tried to prepare his mind for the possibility he was watching her last moments on earth.
“Lauren Cantrell of the USA, I ask you to tell the world—” The interrogator’s voice was so angry and loud it cracked. “What are you doing in MY COUNTRY?”
The man behind Lauren pulled her head back further, which caused her to jerk with a painful, reflexive wince. Otherwise, her face appeared completely unemotional as she stared at the piece of paper.
You could have heard a pin drop in the conference room as every man leaned forward and drew a collective breath. No one expected the loud, clear voice that came out of the battered prisoner as she shifted her gaze away from the paper she was supposed to read and instead looked calmly into the camera with an expression so impassioned, it both comforted and alarmed everyone watching.
“PROUDLY… DYING… for MINE!”
She had just enough time to spit a mouthful of bloody saliva in the direction of the interrogator before her head was slammed into the table from behind with such violent force that it lifted her out of the chair and sent a spray of fresh blood running in crimson droplets down the glass of the camera lens. Her body went instantly limp, as if it were suddenly filled with nothing but sand, and slid lifelessly to the cement below.
There were a few excited and angry voices in the background as the camera jerked and then panned down to the unmoving figure lying in an unnatural position on the dirty floor. A pool of dark blood had already formed beside her parted lips and under her nose, and was running in tiny rivulets to coagulate in her hair.
Rad leaned forward to see if she was breathing, but the tape came to an abrupt end and the screen went black as if a piece of light had left the world.
Not a man in the room moved. No one it seemed even breathed. Many had closed their eyes in shock and disbelief. Veteran military men who had witnessed the destruction and ravishes of the battlefield were sickened beyond words and appeared incapable of speaking.
Rad stood abruptly and walked outside where he vomited off the side of the porch. Everyone within knew it wasn’t what he had just seen that had made him physically ill. It was the fact there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Chapter 28
One week later
Rad picked up his vibrating phone and saw it was McDunna.
“What’s up?”
“We may have something. Get up here.”
Click.
Rad jumped in his truck and drove faster than he should have, bursting through the office door in less than ten minutes. McDunna appeared mildly surprised but didn’t wait for formalities.
“They picked up some communication with Afghanistan.”
“What does that mean?” Rad asked impatiently.
McDunna paused a moment to light a cigarette. “The CIA thinks the White House has put enough pressure on Pakistan that they don’t want the liability anymore. They likely sold Cantrell to the Taliban and are going to be moving her.
Rad’s heart sank and rose all at the same time. She was still alive. And if she made it to Afghanistan they had a chance of getting to her. But what the Taliban would do to her was unthinkable.
“When do I leave?”
McDunna took a deep breath and blew smoke out slowly. “The in-country team will be handling this one. I’m not sure you should be involved, attached as you are.”
Rad could not have felt more pain or raw torment if someone had just stabbed him in the heart with a dull blade. “You can’t be serious.”
McDunna lifted his gaze and stared at him with slit-eyed scrutiny, seeming to rethink his decision. “Jenkins is the lead on this. If I let you go and he says pull out and you don’t have her, you sure as hell better follow his orders.”
Rad swallowed hard. He did not even allow himself to contemplate the possibility they would not have her. “Yes, sir. I will.”
Rad was in the air that same day while a plan was being prepared with a rushed special operations tempo. The adrenaline surge and anxiety he felt for this mission was stronger than usual, making the plane ride feel like days.
Once on the ground and back in familiar territory he felt a little more in control, even though in reality he was in limbo. All action and orders were out of his hands now. Being acquainted with Jenkins from a previous mission, Rad had no trouble assimilating into his command, but Jenkins made it clear Rad’s job was to ID the prisoner and otherwise lie low.
There was nothing he could do but wait…and try to force down the dull ache of foreboding that threatened to overtake him. The old saying, “so close, yet so far away,” had never so accurately reflected his circumstances. Missions like this had a way of stalling or even dissolving before they made it off the ground. And even if everything did move as planned, there would be no do-overs. As usual, everything had to go perfectly
After a few more days of intercepted phone calls, it appeared the operation was going to be a go. The kidnappers would be taking their “package” through the Khyber Pass, mixing in with a wagon train of farmers transporting their produce. When the line of farmers made it completely out of Pakistan, a unit of Marines would temporarily close up the pass behind them while Jenkins’ men would search the wagons for the special cargo they were seeking.
Once the wheels of the operation started turning, everything began to unfold at lightning speed. Rad and the team were d
ropped in the area under cover of darkness and watched the caravan proceed through the valley. When the word came to move, they used trucks and all-terrain vehicles to stop and surround the procession of wagons, carts, and donkeys loaded down with produce. Half of the men formed a security perimeter while the rest began to round up the farmers and go through the wagons.
After about forty-five minutes Rad started to worry, and fifteen minutes later, he was practically distraught.
“We got nothing here,” Jenkins said over the mic. “False alarm. Let’s go.”
Rad stood firm, his gaze moving up and down the line. She had to be here. These guys were too jumpy to just be transporting vegetables over the mountains. He noticed two men standing nervously beside one wagon, their eyes shifting and darting from the ground to the wagon.
“Let’s go. Move out!” Jenkins said again. “That means you too Radcliff.”
Rad kept walking toward the wagon. He put his hand inside and moved some of the produce around, but like the others who had searched it before, found nothing.
“Move out Radcliff, or I’m reporting you. Now!”
Rad bent down and examined the bottom of the wagon. Nothing out of the ordinary there either. He went to stand back up and noticed his hand was wet where he had laid it against the side for balance. When he studied his fingers, he saw they were sticky and pinkish. Leaning back down, he ran his hand over the corner. It came back red.
“I need a crowbar over here.” Rad turned and motioned toward Jenkins, and held up his hand to show the blood. “This thing has a false bottom.”
An operator ran over with a crow bar while others threw vegetables from the wagon right and left by the armful. Still others on the team moved forward to help corral the supposed-farmers who were now chattering angrily, as the creak and splintering of wood ripped through the air. “We got something!”
Jenkins leaned in, holding a photo. He stared at the form lying in the small cavity of the wagon, but then turned to Rad. “Can you tell it’s her?”
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