by Tony Lavely
“I think you’ll be fine, now you’ve rescued Ian and Kevin.”
I wonder if that’s because they’ll keep me straight, or I was able to get them free? Let’s not ask that question, Beck!
The first hour, Elena shared her experiences beginning with, “For some reason, protection under you and Ian is different than other firms.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You don’t watch out for… celebrities so much. Or I didn’t get those jobs, if you do. And formality! Unreasonable. And unnecessary.”
Tarquin was laughing. Beckie smiled and said, “Okay. Now I know two things that piss you off.”
After a little more back and forth about Elena’s recently terminated job, Beckie said, “So, Cori D’Costa. Maurice said her problems are, resolved?”
The grin was sheepish, but as Elena talked it became more honest. “I got Boynton’s first call and did a little research. That led me to Rafelo, a friend on the San Diego police force, and we decided to drive out to the D’Costa home; see what we could discover there.” She pushed her scarf back and fluffed her hair. “I was glad I’d brought him along. Standing outside the front door ringing the bell, we heard screams from inside. When Rafelo kicked the door open, the woman was lying on the floor in the entry; the man was kicking at her.” She sighed. “Long story short, he saw us and attacked Rafelo, since he was in first, and knocked him down. He tried his hand with me but that didn’t work so well for him—”
“I’ll bet,” Beckie said with a laugh.
“Yeah. Anyway, Rafelo decided he’d had enough and tased the guy pretty good. Either due to that or his excitement and poor condition, or all of the above, he had a heart attack, according to the EMT’s.”
“Willie said no one died?”
“Right. At least, before I left. He was in the hospital, but not dead.”
“Sounds like good money after bad, in his case,” Tarquin said.
“How about the woman?” Beckie said. “Cori’s mother?”
“She’s in the hospital, too. Cuts, bruises, several broken bones and a probable concussion.” Elena leaned forward to say, “Even after Rafelo’s testimony, and mine, she claimed to have fallen down the stairs. Said the guy hadn’t hit her at all.” She shook her head, and Beckie agreed. “Rafelo’d thought to wear his body cam, and the doctors found bruises matching the boots the guy wore, so they let us go without much agony.”
“Good job! I guess we’ll have to send Rafelo a box of chocolates or something.”
“Something,” Elena agreed.
“So, why not send Cori back immediately?”
“The local cops had bought the mom’s story, hook, line and sinker, at least until her story was played next to the footage from the body cam; Rafelo and the higher up’s wanted a little time for the mistake to… sink in, I guess. No one explained; just hinted it’d be better if the girl was safe… And the warrant has to be dismissed, too.”
“She’s not eighteen, yet. Is she emancipated?”
“No one said, so probably not. But I don’t think they’re too anxious to have CPS or whoever involved, either.”
“Okay. And Jose what’s his name?”
Elena laughed aloud. “When Boynton rang to have me investigate him, I was afraid I’d have to take another day, and miss the flight. But he was a winner.”
Beckie’d been staring at her friend; Tarquin tapped her shoulder and pointed ahead, to the road. She nodded, then said, “Right.” Now keeping focused on the traffic, she continued, “A winner? How so?”
“He had a dream of making a difference—”
“Uh-oh,” Beckie said. “We should introduce him to Chelsie.”
“No, let’s not. He’s gonna be plenty busy for the next little while. This morning—San Diego time—I collected Rafelo again. The boy’s name was vaguely familiar to him, and after a couple of guesses, we found him on the morning shift at one of the ubiquitous fast-food joints the beach is infested with. Another reason to leave there. Anyway, we were both plain-clothes, and young Jose was willing to talk with us.
“I lucked out first time. He’d been targeting Daesh web sites and social media since last fall, and was real proud of what he’s learned. Me, I just played dumb—like he expected—and let him tell me everything I wanted to know about getting an invitation to sign up with his good Muslim name—Hazim Qureshi’s the one he chose…”
“Let me guess, he had to perform some… some small task that seemed to mean nothing.”
“Am I telling this?” Elena retorted with smirk. “Yeah. But before that, in January about, he passed along little bits of information, some about Lisa joining us. Then he answered some questions from someone—he didn’t know who—about Lisa, and then Cori.”
“So, even in January, they were targeted?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Now, as I was saying… In May, someone, on Twitter he thinks, sent him to meet a couple of guys… He thought they were French, which confused him, but he went. They had a necklace, he said, and a script for him to work from when he talked to Ms D’Costa.”
“No word about what it was? Or why?”
“They didn’t tell him anything. He remembered the script said she’d not be hurt by the necklace.”
“Literally accurate, I suppose.”
“He said he got a call the next morning that she’d taken it off; he should go and whip some sense into her. He said he did, and he never heard anything more about it, except he would be moved up.”
“And Rafelo?”
“Listened very politely, then when the boy had no more to say, Mirandized him and took him away.”
“Will he be able to use any of that?”
“No idea. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him after, before the flight, but he knows what he’s doing. At the least, maybe he can turn the kid around.”
“Hmm. Not so sure I’d be, you know, happy about that. Someone used that necklace to try and kill Ralf and Amy and… And our team members!” Beckie took several moments to focus on the road, grateful for the light, post-three AM, traffic. “Okay, get some sleep, both of you. I fear what we might find.”
After another minute’s thought, she dug her phone out and scrolled to Boynton’s number. “Maurice, tell Shen and anyone who should know, let Cori go back to civilian status. Lena confirmed what she said about being a patsy.”
“No restrictions, then?”
“None that wouldn’t apply to any other visitor. Are you concerned?”
“Slightly, but—”
“Talk with Ian and Shen, then. I can live with what you three decide.”
Leonid’s GPS predicted their ETA would be 0715; Beckie wanted to beat that if she could, without attracting any undue attention. Success, she thought, as she stopped outside the base house. “Five before seven,” she said to rouse her passengers.
“Good time,” Tarquin said, “but—” He grabbed his phone. “Bloody hell! Leonid’s got incoming!”
“Where to?” Beckie started the engine again, jammed it into gear and twisted to stare at Tarquin. “Fuck!” She straightened and took a deep breath while the pain subsided. “I gotta stop doing that! Where to?”
Two: Battle at the…
Before Beckie reached the unpaved track that led to the site, Tarquin had her turn onto what looked like a stream bed. “Lyeka asks that we come up the path the hostiles took. We’re to block their way out.”
“Ha!” Beckie said. “We gonna lay our delicate bodies down and dare them?”
Tarquin’s laugh accompanied lifting a pair of AK-47s from behind the seat. “Be prepared. Don’t the Girl Guides say that also?”
“Don’t know,” Elena said as she took one of the assault weapons, “but this should serve the purpose. Do you have another, for Mistress Rebecca?”
“Over wine tonight, when we’re not so busy, you’ll have to tell me about this ‘Mistress Rebecca’ thing you have.” He reached behind him again, and retrieved a
nother AK along with a bag of magazines. Scrabbling around under the seat produced a few more magazines. “That’s the lot,” he said.
“Looks good, Tark. Maybe we won’t need all that.”
“I’m not counting on it,” he replied. “Here. Stop and let Elena and I get into the bed. You’ll protect us, and we’ll gain some height.”
“Wait! I’ll protect you? How’s that gonna work?”
Even as she protested, only half in jest, she braked the truck; it slid to a stop in the loose rocks and sand.
“You’ll be fine. All that glass…”
When a hand slapped the roof, she started.
Mindful of the passengers, she proceeded slowly, until another rap on the roof and a hollered “Hurry a little; we’re okay,” pushed her. Another couple kilometers and Beckie saw three trucks, much like the one she drove. A single shot from ahead gave Elena permission to fire; she did but Beckie saw no result.
A rock outcropping gave Beckie the idea to pitch the truck sideways across the track. It’ll block them getting out and reinforcements coming in.
“Good job!” came from Elena as she vaulted over the side and landed behind the door, far side from the hostile vehicles. Tarquin landed a second later, then dropped.
“He’s going under,” Elena explained.
As she finished, a short burst came from above; Beckie had the door open and herself on the ground beside Elena before the sound of at least one round through the truck died.
“You better take care! I don’t want to be telling Ian what happened to his wife… Much better she does it herself!”
“Ah, they’re too far for an effective shot. Over six hundred yards.”
“The rounds will carry, and a lucky shot will get you dead as quick as a deliberate one. Keep your head down!”
Beckie reached up to grab the AK-47 from the floorboards where it had fallen, then seized the sack of magazines. Elena snatched a couple and inserted one in her weapon. Beckie did the same, then followed the woman as she slithered under the truck to scan the scene ahead.
Beckie lifted her head just enough to see Tarquin crouched behind a boulder about thirty feet ahead. Like Elena, he was scanning the terrain; though Beckie saw no movement herself, he seemed focused on a spot out of her direct view, behind the truck to the right. That’s close to where I was sitting. She clenched her teeth, thinking about being bagged and dragged.
Tarquin glanced back, smiling. He signed, “Hold there.”
The morning shadows from the valley wall beside him extended toward the hostiles’ trucks; he worked his way along the base of the rocky slope in that direction.
Beckie glimpsed a bit of motion above Tarquin ; that’s not a friendly, she realized as a blue kameez billowed slightly in the breeze. With the weapon in single shot, she aimed and fired.
Instantly, the shot was answered; she scrambled to get behind—“Anything!” she gasped.
During this exchange, Elena hurried to the spot Tarquin had vacated. Beckie watched as the woman squeezed into the rocks and returned fire. The effort brought her a response, but no more shots at Beckie. She thumbed the mode switch to auto and popped her head up. A glance: Tarquin was almost to the three trucks; those on the ridge had apparently lost him in their desire to silence Elena… and her. Something moved, she squeezed the trigger for a one-count. The dust argued that she’d missed. “Damn,” she muttered.
The motion atop the ridge had stopped.
Elena waved her to approach, signing that she’d provide cover. Beckie was up as quickly as her ribs would allow; the short run left her gasping.
“What do they expect to gain?”
Elena smirked at her. “Damn if I know. You’re the one with time on the ground. What do they expect to gain?”
Catching her breath, Beckie thought for a second, mulling the weapons cache, the men in France, the words Amir Khan and Rezaei had used as well as those Al-whatever and his henchman had threatened before and after trying to execute her. Before she could begin even a capsule review for Elena to consider, the woman tapped her shoulder and pointed to Tarquin.
When he had their attention, he signed “Keep down; move here.”
Elena did a quick sweep of the area before crouching and hurrying to his position, under one of the hostiles’ trucks.
Beckie kept watch for any activity above them, but there was nothing. Elena took a stance beside the truck’s cab, surveying the valley as Beckie’d been doing.
With Elena and Tarquin covering her, Beckie rose and used a limping half-run to cross the rocky track to the vehicles.
“Oof,” she said, landing more awkwardly than she’d wanted, “that’s uncomfortable.” She immediately fielded questions about her health: “I’m fine. Nothing new. You know that, Lena.” She turned toward Tarquin. “What have you been doing while we were sightseeing?”
Tarquin laughed under his breath. “The trucks here won’t be much fun to drive.” He pointed out a puddle of, is that oil? “I opened the brake lines after I drained the oil, since even without oil, they’ll still run for a while.”
“Good job.” Beckie looked up at the ridge line, then smacked her forehead. “Why didn’t I bring the radio?”
While she had intended it to be rhetorical, Tarquin tapped his ear. “Leonid’s not saying anything we need to respond to. Right now, they’ve got the attackers pushed back into a draw, but they have cover. He thanks us for causing the distraction and blocking their escape route. He passes along Sam’s requirement that we keep a certain diminutive, chestnut-haired boss lady safe, especially since they’re not in difficulty.”
“That’s good! Not the part about saving me, but the having them buttoned up.” She reached her pocket and dragged her phone out. “Another good thing: sat phone still has service. Ask Leonid if he’s tried the authorities.”
In a moment, he said, “He’s talked to Chouj, but his radio’s not working, and Leonid has no other good contact.”
She waved her sat phone at him. “Tell him I’ll try Smythe.”
Smythe required several minutes before he could offer his solution, which matched Beckie’s hope fairly well: Smythe would communicate with his contacts in Islamabad and ask them to have the Baluchistan Levies intervene.
“Some of them are probably on Rezaei’s side,” she warned Tarquin, “but Smythe expects them to bring a force sufficient to clear the site. And take Rezaei into custody, at least for now.”
“Right,” Tarquin said with a sneer that was all too familiar to Beckie. “And he’ll be back at the first chance.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Or he’ll send someone. Ah well, Leonid’s thinking the same, and he’s not disappointed, for today.”
“Yeah. And preemptive strikes aren’t really appropriate, are they?”
“Not always effective, either,” Elena said.
“You would know better than I,” Tarquin said. “I’m less motivated when I’m not a target.” His attention drifted away from Beckie, then, “Leonid’s worried about the cache… Seems some of the hostiles went over the ridge in that direction.”
Beckie looked around. Action from the crest had faded out. “Okay, we know where the cache is.” She grabbed her phone and pulled up the Map app. She waved both Elena and Tarquin beside her, so they could see the miniature screen when the loading finished.
Tarquin reached for the phone when the mountains appeared with the current location blip in the center. “I have hours watching the drone video.”
Beckie nodded as she relinquished control. “Hey, are any of the drones available?”
Tarquin eyes snapped up to stare, then he refocused on the phone. “They’re available, but I didn’t bring a remote. Sorry.”
Beckie waved it off and tried to follow his fingers, but the map moved too quickly for her; she glanced at Elena and shrugged.
“There. That’s the cache. Looks like…” He pushed the image around for another minute. Beckie felt her anxiety rising. “I know, I know. Taking too l
ong.” Guess my breathing gave it away. “Okay. We’ll head back down the access road about three klicks, then cross-country for about one, then up to here…” He pointed to what might have been an overhang. “We’ll go on foot from there. Little less than a kilometer.” He raised his head and frowned at Beckie. “Honestly, Mrs. Jamse, it’ll be a rough seven or eight hundred meters. Are you up for that?”
Beckie bit back the first two responses that came to mind. He’s doing his job, just like he should: determining the liabilities. I can go, but… Be honest, Beck. You are a liability with your ribs. Either of them can duck and twist and… And avoid problems that you’d be too slow for. Fuck! I don’t have to like it, that’s what Sam said. I just have to do it. “Good job, Tark.” She took a breath. “I’m not a hundred percent, but I’m capable. If I fall behind, you won’t wait on me; I’ll be fine. Maybe even be able to watch your six. Since you’re more familiar with the terrain, I’ll drive while you acquaint us with what to expect.”
“Right. Let me tell Leonid…”
In a moment, he said, “Okay. We go. We’ll pick up Fabien on the off chance…”
Beckie slammed the truck into gear and rushed down the track until Tarquin hollered, “Here! Left and up and over, then follow the slope down. Four wheel drive. Watch for boulders and crevasses.”
Yeah, right! She steered around the first outcropping and put her foot on the gas to keep some momentum as the slope increased. Not far ahead, more boulders marked the line of the top; she aimed between two smaller ones and powered through, ignoring the metallic scraping.
“We took the insurance, right?” she joked but cut it off when a bullet punctured the fender and hood just in front of her.
“Lucky shot.” Tarquin’s grin was huge. “Keep going. Don’t know how much evasion you can do so… Don’t let up!” He grabbed a rifle and peered past her toward the site. “Elena, grab my belt and hang on, right?”