Against All Odds

by Richard Bard

  Jamal lowered his voice and gestured to Farhad. “That’s the best news ever.”

  Farhad smiled. He and the others often joked that Ebrahem always worked better when he was angry. Whether it was field training, video games, or cyberwar, he hated to be bested. His snarling persistence was legendary. “Like a dog with a bone.”

  “I heard that!”

  “You were supposed to. It was a compliment. Get it done.”

  ***

  An hour and a half later Ahmed and Sarafina pulled off the county road, and Sarafina eased the Alfa behind a copse of trees.

  “Pull forward a tad,” Ahmed said.

  “Why? We’re well hidden here. And besides, the color of this Alfa couldn’t be better to blend with the trees. No one could possibly see us from the road.” She reached for the keys.

  Ahmed stayed her hand. “I know that. I’m just trying to be helpful. If you pull past that tree trunk right there, you’ll be able to keep an eye on the entrance to the dirt road leading to the property without ever leaving the car. A lot more comfortable, right? And if anyone comes or goes, you can tell me about it.”

  “Why would I need to tell you? You’re sitting right here…. Wait a minute, if you think you’re taking off in the woods without me, you’ve got another thing coming.” She killed the motor and crossed her arms.

  He exhaled. “Listen. I couldn’t have gotten to where you and I are right now without you. And I’m not just talking about you driving me here. I’m talking about everything, from the beginning, going back as far as when we first met at Signor Battista’s palace. You’ve always been there for me.”

  Sarafina uncrossed her arms and lowered her gaze. “And you for me, Ahmed.”

  He shook his head. “Sure, in some ways, I guess. But that’s easy. You’re nice to be around.” He tapped the implant scar beneath his thick hair. “But you’ve had to put up with a lot of crap from me over the years, and so has Dad, Mom, Alex, and all our other friends. I mean, come on, I tried to blow everybody up on that airplane! But here I am, welcomed into the family as sure as if Mom and Dad had been my biological parents. And you’ve been there for me every step of the way, through all my fits, all my tantrums, everything. I love you for it…sister.” He pulled her into a hug. It surprised her but she held him tight. It felt good.

  They pulled apart, and she sniffled. “I love you, too, Ahmed.”

  “It’s time for me to give back. That’s why I’m here. It’s what I’m supposed to do. And finding out what’s going on at that ranch is my way of making that happen. It’s probably just a guy with a drone fetish, but what if it’s not? What if it’s more? What if I can help make the family safer by reporting what’s happening back there? What if I can save innocent lives?”

  “I get all that. But what makes you think I don’t want to do the same thing? I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Of course you are. And you’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met. Well, except for Lacey.”

  She punched his arm. “Whose life I saved when I was only six years old!”

  He smiled. “You rock. There’s no doubt about it. But hey, it’s important we split up here. Someone needs to watch the road, right? To cover my six, like Dad would say.” She bit her lower lip, thinking about it. He needed to close the deal, and as he looked at her he realized the answer was staring him in the face. “Besides,” he said, “look at what you’re wearing.”

  She glanced down at her skinny red jeans and bright yellow top. “Oh. Not the best camouflage.”

  “No, but it looks really good on you.” He took a page out of Dad’s playbook for whenever Dad got in trouble with Mom.

  She gave him a wry look, but started the car and edged it into position. After switching off the ignition and setting the brake, she pulled out the burner phones and handed him one. He switched it on and saw the satellite map of the location. The cellular signal was down to one bar, but that was enough. She entered a text into the second phone and his phone chimed.

  The text read: ur welcome.

  “You’re the best,” he said. “It’s a half-mile walk. Should take me fifteen or twenty minutes.” He pulled the binoculars from her pack and slipped the lanyard around his neck. He grabbed the spare magazine and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans after he climbed out of the car. “I’ll text you as soon as I get close enough to see the place. I’m going to circle around the west side and scope it from higher ground.”

  “Snap some pics. And text me at least once every fifteen minutes, or else I’m going to go crazy worrying about you. And don’t dilly-dally. It’s going to be dark soon.”

  “Will do. I promise. Likewise, let me know if anyone uses the road.”

  “For God’s sake, Ahmed. Be careful.”

  He nodded and held out a fist. She bumped it and he set off.

  Twenty minutes later he was hidden in a thick bramble of brush on a ridge overlooking a large horse barn, an old house, and a few outbuildings. The sun was setting behind him but he still had a clear view, and what he saw put him on edge.

  He pulled out the phone and texted: lots of activity. several vehicles being loaded with crates. count 6 guys so far. think more inside. time to tell marsh we’re on to something. I’m okay.

  He shoved the phone in his pocket and looked through the binoculars. He was less than a hundred yards from the structures, but the powerful lenses allowed him to analyze the features of the men. They all looked to be in their early twenties, and that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The group of boys who’d been taken from his village in Afghanistan would be around that age. The coloring of their skin matched his, and their faces seemed familiar. But he couldn’t be sure. It had been so long ago.

  They were loading crates into three vans and a long, unmarked delivery-style truck. There were a few smaller crates, but most were the size of large steamer trunks. They’d been painted in camouflage for some reason. He was trying to figure out what to do next when he heard a drone buzz over the treetops.

  He froze. The drone entered the clearing from his right, barely avoiding a second drone that had appeared from the opposite direction. As soon as they passed each other, they circled the horse barn in what seemed like a choreographed dance, and then proceeded back into the woods in opposite directions, this time on a track that was thirty degrees off from their inbound courses. They were running a search grid, he realized, and if they continued in the same pattern, on the next pass one of them would fly directly over his position.

  His heart pounded. The drones were exact copies of the one he’d found at the lodge, and the one they’d seen on TV from the Dallas attack. Any doubts he had regarding what these guys were up to vanished, and all he could think to do was get the word out and then run like hell back to the car. He pulled his phone to send another text, but his previous text still filled the screen. He tapped SEND but nothing happened.

  No bars.

  He’d traveled beyond cell range.

  A voice shouted from below. Ahmed raised the binoculars to see a man exiting the barn waving a tablet. Two men stepped from behind the panel truck and moved toward the man. The duo had been hidden from view before, and as Ahmed focused on them, all the breath left his lungs. The bigger man was Hadi, one of Signor Battista’s most trusted warriors. The second man was the boy who’d tormented Ahmed.

  Farhad.

  ***

  Foothills of Mt. Wilson

  Francesca counted the minutes. Night had fallen, and Lacey’s friends should arrive at any moment to help them make their escape. Marshall had already opened the bedroom window at the back of the lodge, which was supposedly a blind spot now since that quadrant had previously been covered by the fallen drone. She prayed he was right.

  She’d been doing a lot of praying lately, first for Jake, then for Alex, and now for the lot of them. It seemed every turn they’d made in the past couple of weeks had brought them closer to danger. They would escape one deadly situation by the skin of their te
eth, only to be thrust into another. And in each case, their narrow getaways wouldn’t have been possible without friends, old and new, who risked their own lives to help. Like the Aussies Becker and Jonesy, who’d been with them in the South China jungle, and the Hong Kong hacker kids Shamer and Dolphin who’d saved Marshall’s life, and Doc, and Cal and Kenny, and Pete and Skylar—the list went on. Yes, her husband’s actions spawned an ever tightening spiral of danger around them all. But likewise, his selfless determination to help others at any cost inspired a growing list of people willing to stand tall beside him despite the risks.

  Still, people all over the world wanted their heads, and there seemed to be no end to it.

  Is this our life from now on? Running from one fire to another?

  “You’re kidding me,” Marshall said, prompting Francesca and Lacey to glance over at him.

  “Everything okay, honey?” Lacey asked, her casual manner part of the performance they were putting on.

  “Uh, yeah,” Marshall said, joining them on the couch. He was trying to act calm but Francesca knew better. He was excited about something. “Just a little computer glitch. I need to rest my eyes a minute.” He grabbed the tablet from Lacey’s lap and started typing. Francesca leaned in.

  I just got a message on the private chat room we set up months ago. From the monk Little Star!

  Francesca was rocked back by the news. The monk had saved her children in the jungle. She kept reading:

  He’s landing in LAX in a few hours. Traveling under a false name. Zhang Wei. Says the Chinese government’s been looking for him. Cathay Pacific out of Hong Kong. 10:15 pm arrival. Says he’s bringing something of great value to all of us.

  He stopped typing. Lacey frowned, and Francesca stared at him.

  Marshall typed: That’s the entire message. Whatever he’s bringing it must be important. He obviously knows our situation, or he wouldn’t be coming otherwise.

  Lacey typed: He has no idea where we’re located. We’ve got to meet him at the airport. What the heck is he bringing?

  The questions caromed through Francesca’s mind. Why would he come all this way? And why would he not mention the specifics in his message? Was it so secret that he feared mentioning it even on their encrypted chat site? Or would the telling of it lessen its value somehow? Or place him or us in harm’s way? Something of great value. To all of us.

  And then it struck her. What if...? She gestured for the tablet, but as Lacey was about to hand it to her, Marshall’s computer pinged. He bounced up to check the message. “Damn, more junk mail,” he said. He returned and grabbed the tablet.

  Jake and Alex landed safe in San Diego! Alex is being taken to the secondary safe house. Jake is en route to the Castaic location now with help to check it out. He’ll be there soon.

  Lacey’s burner phone vibrated. She pulled it from the pocket of her jeans. They read the message from Pete together.

  i’m parked over the ridge as planned. sky is on her way to u. 5 mins

  Finally, Francesca thought. She rose and walked toward the hallway to get Ahmed and Sarafina.

  ***

  Los Padres National Forest

  Darkness was falling, but the barn’s exterior lights allowed Ahmed to witness the sudden rush of activity below. Something had spooked them. Hadi and Farhad ran toward the barn, barking orders, and thirty seconds later four men exited wearing combat vests. They were armed with sidearms and assault rifles. They took up guard positions around the perimeter while everyone else loaded the vehicles. Two men hauled the last of the crates into a van, and then hurried to help the others grab computers, duffels, and backpacks.

  They’re bugging out.

  There was no way Ahmed could get back to the car in time to follow them. He checked the phone again. Still no bars. He couldn’t allow them to get away. This was the entire team of twelve from his village. He was certain of it now. There must be others in Dallas, Chicago, and New York who’d conducted the attacks, but this was the team in charge.

  He knew what he had to do. One of the sentries was less than fifty yards in front of Ahmed, panning his rifle along the ridgeline. One false move and the man would surely open fire. Ahmed eased the phone into the thicket of brush beside him. He didn’t want anything on him that might reveal Sarafina was close by.

  Closing his eyes, he took a slow breath to calm his nerves. He thought back to the teachings of his childhood, and a verse from the Quran about martyrdom:

  But do not think of those that have been slain in God’s cause as dead. Nay, they are alive! With their Sustainer have they their sustenance…

  He recited the phrase in his mind in Dari. The language was still natural to him despite the many years since he’d used it regularly. The prophet’s words soothed him. Finally, without rising from his hidden position, he called out the typical Muslim greeting, “Al-salāmu ʿalaykum!”

  The guard spun the rifle in Ahmed’s direction, shouting to those behind him. Ahmed continued in Dari, projecting his voice as much as possible. He began with the inscription from the cavern. “‘He will grant you victory over them.’ It is a phrase burned into all of us since childhood, written on the walls of our very own sacred cavern, revered by sheikh Abdali.”

  By now the others in the clearing had taken cover and pulled weapons. But the words had an impact, and Hadi and Farhad rose slowly from behind one of the vans.

  “Are you alone?” Farhad shouted in English.

  The question surprised Ahmed. He’d expected a barrage of inquiries regarding the knowledge he’d just revealed. Instead, Farhad acted as if he already knew the answers. It worried Ahmed, but when the two drones settled above his hiding spot, he knew it didn’t really matter. He stood and raised his hands over his head. “I am alone, Farhad.”

  “It is you! Lower your weapons, my friends. It is one of our own, returned to the fold. Ahmed, come. Join us.”

  Ahmed trudged down the hill. When he reached the clearing, two of the sentries ran forward and grabbed his arms, their fingers digging deep. A third relieved him of his pistol, the spare magazine, and his binoculars. There was hatred in the man’s eyes as he patted down Ahmed.

  “He’s clean.”

  The two men holding him forced him to his knees, and the others gathered around.

  This is it. I’m going to die. Right here. Right now. Saving no one.

  “Allah is with us,” Farhad said as he and Hadi approached. “He has delivered you unto us. I assume you are here to face justice for betraying your people by not martyring yourself eight years ago?”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” Ahmed said, fighting fire with fire as he played the role he’d practiced over and over again in his mind. “I was a kid back then. I tried to blow up that plane, but they caught me before I could detonate it. Bronson warned them telepathically. What the hell was I supposed to do about that?” He spoke with a fierceness fueled by his frustration, hiding his fear beneath the tirade. “After that I was confined to a mental institution. It was horrible. I was barely allowed to pray. You think they would’ve treated me that way if I’d voluntarily turned over the bomb? Give me a break! You guys are idiots. I’m not here to submit to your idea of justice over some wild accusations you obviously know nothing about. I’m here to join you and reap a little vengeance of my own!” He spat the last words with a vehemence he hadn’t realized was in him. “But you clowns actually believe I came here so you could kill me? Just walk in here all by myself with nothing more than a pistol and a pair of binoculars? Screw you! If that’s all your puny minds are able to come up with, then just kill me now and get it over with, because I don’t want anything do with you!” He glared at them.

  Several of them shifted uneasily. I only need to live long enough to do what I came to do.

  Farhad’s brow furrowed. He gestured to the guy whose shout had galvanized the group into action. “Is there mention of him telling the others where he’d gone?”

  The guy scanned the iPad he still held.
“Nothing at all.” The device chimed. “Hang on. They’re using their tablet again. Talking about a man named Little Star. He’s landing in L.A. tonight. Bringing something of great value.”

  Ahmed’s heart dropped. They must have just hacked into the tablet at the lodge. That was why they were abandoning the site. They’d learned Marshall had tracked their location. Did that mean they also knew Mom and the others were planning to sneak away after sundown?

  Farhad called out toward the panel truck. “Jamal, are they still in the lodge?”

  Another team member stuck his head out the rear door. “Yes, and it’s dark, which means they’ll be trying to sneak out any moment. Should I activate the drone magazine now?”

  Drone magazine? That didn’t sound good. “Hey—”

  Hadi slapped him hard. “Shut your mouth.”

  “Not until we’re clear of the ranch,” Farhad shouted back to Jamal.

  The guy with the tablet said, “Something’s up.” His eyes moved like they were reading each word as it was being typed. “The boy has been taken to a safe house…” The guy waited for more words to appear. His face reddened. “Bronson’s on his way here!”

  Farhad snarled at Ahmed, but instead of killing him outright, he said, “Bind him. Throw him in the truck.” To Ahmed, he said, “I will have the truth from you soon enough. Until then, you will make a fine bargaining chip.”

  The sentries yanked Ahmed to his feet. Hadi pulled a roll of duct tape from his pack and used it to bind Ahmed’s hands behind his back. It was the first sign that Ahmed’s insane scheme might work, and he allowed himself a glimmer of hope.

  Hadi slapped a piece of tape across Ahmed’s mouth and shoved him toward the angry sentry who’d patted him down. “Take him to the truck. If he tries anything, kill him.” He turned to the others. “You all know what to do. Let’s move!”