by Camden Mays
✽✽✽
AIJB Camp North of Al Hazm, Yemen
It was hard for Cole to know the time of day in the windowless cell. It was only when he was dragged out that he could catch a view of the daylight from the stairway. He estimated he had been there five or six days but wasn’t sure. Cole couldn’t help but ponder the choices in his life that had brought him to this point, unsure if he had minutes or hours to wait for his execution. He had resigned himself to the harsh reality that regardless of the number of minutes or hours that remained, the only thing he had left was memories.
He had lived a full life and had seen and done more in his forty-four years and eleven months than most did in a lifetime. Seeing firsthand the suffering in many parts of the world, he had come to understand that he, like most Americans, was truly fortunate. Blessed to have watched his daughter grow into a woman and blessed to discover love when he thought it was an illusion. A tear slowly rolled down his cheek as he thought of the loved ones that he would leave behind. He only hoped that through his death, the bloodthirst against his family would be quenched.
The clank of the iron door indicated the hour had arrived. He didn’t want to be dragged. No, he wanted to walk and take his final steps as a man, regardless of the excruciating pain that pulsated through his body. He used the wall as leverage and scooted his back up against it to get vertical. The two men reached to take his arms and carry him out, but he fought, swinging his tied hands around. “I’ll walk. Let me walk!” he yelled.
Rasul stepped into the cell and translated his desire, and they followed his slow and painful journey to the torture room. Seeing the light from the stairway as he passed, he thought it was probably early afternoon and assumed his captors had likely just finished their Salat al Zuhr, midday prayers. His heart sank as he saw the video camera setup and the boy waiting for him in the room.
Cole took his seat and looked at the boy, who was crying. “Why are you making the boy do this? Where’s the Lion of Aden? Bring him here. Let him do it himself.”
“Read the statement, Mr. Cameron,” Rasul said.
“Why? You’re going to kill me anyway. Just do it,” Cole said.
“Read the statement or the boy dies.” Rasul put his pistol to the boy’s head. “Read.”
Cole tried to control his heart rate. He wanted to die with dignity. “Where’s the Lion? Why isn’t he here to watch? Is he afraid?” Rasul’s nostrils flared, and he gritted his teeth.
Cole knew it then. Rasul was the Lion.
God, I hope they bomb this place, he thought.
“Read or the boy dies now!” Rasul ordered.
“My name is Cole Cameron. I am an officer with the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America. For the last six years, I have planned, orchestrated, and executed attacks against the Arden Islamic Jihad Brotherhood. I have killed and wounded many of Allah’s believers and will now face Allah’s judgment as ordered by the Lion of Aden.”
Rasul placed the pistol in the boy’s hand. He pointed to his head, demonstrating where the boy should put the gun’s barrel. He instructed the boy in Arabic. The boy’s eyes grew wide. He began to shake as he looked at Cole.
“It’s OK, boy,” Cole said, knowing the young man had no choice. “Tell him I said it’s OK.”
The small-framed Somalian boy that saved Cole from his own hate was now his executioner. He placed the barrel of the gun just a few inches from Cole Cameron’s temple. Jamil Rasul shouted the order in Arabic, and the boy pulled the trigger.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center – Langley
Nancy McCune had repositioned the field team based on the intel she had received from Katrina Nikolin. The atmosphere in the den was thick with anxiety, but for the first time in days, there was hope. An asset was in play that was en route to Cole’s location to secure his release.
“Ma’am, we’ve got something that just hit the web,” an analyst in the pit area hollered out.
“Put it on the big screen,” McCune ordered as the video populated the multiple-screen wall.
“Oh God, no,” Amy said, standing from her chair as she and everyone in the room stopped working to watch the recorded execution of Cole Cameron. McCune looked at the clocks on the wall and realized Katrina was still an hour out from landing in the Yemen capital. The room fell silent as the event unfolded on the screen before them. The gun firing and Cole’s head snapping just as the screen went black. Then came the usual Lion of Aden character parading around with Cole’s head.
✽✽✽
FBI National Counterterrorism Center
Hannah sat at her desk working through some files when one of her team members knocked on her door. “Hannah, Deputy Director Pershing needs to see you. It’s urgent.”
“Thanks, Juli,” Hannah said, grabbing a notepad and briskly walking toward the elevators to report to the deputy director. She noticed along the way her colleagues were watching her. “What’s going on, Juli?” she asked the team member who was escorting her, and then she got the answer as she saw the video playing on a computer monitor in one of the cubicles. She paused, and as the young agent at the desk leaped to turn it off, she yelled, “Let it play!”
The scene unfolded for Hannah to see, and she collapsed to the floor.
Later, as paramedics were carrying her out on the gurney, Hannah came to and noticed they were starting to push fluids into the IV. “Wait, what is that? Wait . . . wait . . . I’m pregnant.”
✽✽✽
Capitol Hill
The committee meeting had just broken, and Congressman Scott Shepherd exited the room with staff members strolling alongside him. One of them pushed a phone up to his face and said, “You’re gonna want to see this.”
He clicked the link to the video and watched the execution. He smirked with delight to see Cole Cameron die.
That may just do Hannah in as well, he thought.
He veiled his twisted pleasure in his adversary’s demise and turned to his staff members, stating, “How terribly tragic. Let’s draft a statement offering condolences.”
✽✽✽
Los Angeles – UCLA
Jessica Cameron was walking across the campus to get to her next class, and her old admirer Chase was screaming at her and running toward her. She chuckled, remembering his embarrassing moment the day her dad arrived in the helicopter and waved his gun around. Then she noticed Chase’s panicked look. “What is it? What’s going on?”
Chase was out of breath but managed to point to his phone. “Your dad. Oh my God. They killed your dad.”
She grabbed his phone and pushed play on the video and watched in horror as the scene played out. She stood in shock. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get to my mom and make sure she’s OK,” she said, shoving the phone back to Chase as she ran away.
✽✽✽
Sana’a, Yemen
Sara Wang’s video call finally connected, and she immediately recognized the warning signs of a significant problem. Analysts who were previously jumping around and scrambling from station to station were subdued and distraught. Amy Wiggins was not on the screen. It was Nancy McCune communicating directly with the team.
“Ma’am, we’re all set to tail the asset on our end. We want to verify the ETA. The airport is still showing on-time arrival, and we’ve coordinated some views at the rendezvous point after the asset secures the package,” Wang advised.
Katrina Nikolin was sent to secure Cole Cameron from the Lion as part of a deal that Medvedm had orchestrated. She had been instructed to meet her escort at the airport, who would take her to the camp where Cole Cameron was being held. Wang’s team would track the location, and once Cole was secure, a drone strike would unleash fury upon the terrorist camp and bring Cole home.
“We have a problem.” McCune sighed and unfolded her arms. “Walsh, send them the link.”
“Got it,” Sinha said, and then he clicked the play icon.
Wang turned her head, not wantin
g to see the end play out. Cole had recruited and brought her aboard his elite team. He truly recognized and appreciated her unique skills and challenged her to take more leadership responsibilities. Now, in the field, with a mission gone to hell, she was thrust into the role that Cole had told her she was destined for. She knew his reputation before joining the team, but after six months of working in close confines with the man, she had grown to admire and respect him as a human, not just a leader. She shook at the sound of the blast of the gun.
“Oh my God,” Sinha said.
The soldier in Wang took over as she turned back to the camera to communicate with McCune. “What are our orders, ma’am?”
“Stay with Daphne and ping that location for us so that we can strike,” McCune ordered.
“You mean after we rendezvous with the asset, correct?” Wang verified.
“Just get us the location. We’ll worry about the strike timing.” McCune signaled the call should end.
“Copy that, ma’am,” Wang said softly as the screen went blank. The room remained silent for a moment.
“Well, at least his death will mean something if Daphne leads us to the Lion,” Liski reasoned.
Wang turned and glared at the tall Ukrainian woman. “Steve, can you cover base for a while? I need some fresh air.”
“Sure, Sara,” Sinha replied.
“Don’t be long. Steve and I need to get to the airport soon,” Liski said, folding her arms.
Sara Wang cast another dirty look toward her and slammed the door on the way out of the small industrial building where they were stationed. She slid her back down the wall of the building and sat on the hard dirt near the roll-up door. All of the losses she had experienced in her military career had been from afar as she sat at CENTCOM. She had always felt burdened by the losses she had seen, but she never knew them personally. They were call signs over a comm set. This was different.
Wang looked around at her surroundings as she sat on the ground in a walled-in parking lot of a small warehouse. She wanted to leave this godforsaken place and go home. The gate to the property opened, and Darryl Capps limped in. Wang, who prided herself on keeping her emotions in check, leaped to her feet, ran, and bear-hugged her colleague.
“Oh my God, I’m so glad to see you,” Wang said, wiping a tear from her eye. “When did they release you from the hospital?”
“They didn’t. I checked out and got here as fast as I could,” Capps said.
Capps had sustained injuries the day of Cole’s abduction. His Kevlar vest had absorbed three hits, and he took another bullet to the same leg that was hit months earlier in Sayhut, Yemen.
“Can you believe they hit the same damn leg? And nearly in the same damn spot,” Capps said as they slowly headed back to the warehouse door.
“You know about Cole?” Wang asked.
“Yeah”—he paused and gave Wang another hug—“That’s why I’m here. I want to make ’em pay.”
“Copy that.”
“Is Matilda still here?” Capps asked, referring to Liski.
“Yep. She’s ready to get to the airport to tail the asset.”
“OK. I’ll go with her so that Steve can stay here with you.”
“Are you up for that?”
“Yep. I owe it to Cole.”
Chapter 33
Sana’a, Yemen – Sana’a International Airport
Capps grunted as he repositioned his weak leg. Liski looked over at him, doubting his capabilities. “I can do this by myself. You don’t look good,” she said.
“Yeah, and monkeys can fly,” Capps said.
“What does that mean?” Liski asked, still unaware of her nickname reference.
“Just watch the doors.”
“There she is,” Liski said. Capps looked through the side window with binoculars.
“Base, this is Rebel One. We have a visual on Daphne,” Capps reported. “Waiting for the escort.”
“Copy that.”
Several minutes passed, and finally, two men approached Katrina and led her to their car. Capps reported the movement as Liski drove, following the vehicle through the city. Aerial surveillance was provided by a CIA Predator drone. After a few minutes, the car pulled over in an open lot, and Liski pulled over from a distance. Capps peered through the binoculars.
“I can’t see anything. The windows are too dark,” Capps said.
Wang paced the floor at the nest. “Why the hell did they stop?”
They all saw Katrina, with her white head covering, step out of the car. The door closed and the vehicle sped away.
“What the hell happened?” Liski said.
“Rebel Base, this is Predator One. Do you want me on the asset or following the car?” the drone operator stationed in Africa called out.
“Hold, One,” Wang directed. “Rebel One, do you have a visual on the asset?”
Just as she said the words, Capps saw the woman wearing Katrina’s head covering turn. “It’s not her. I repeat—it’s not the asset.”
“Dammit,” Wang said. “Predator One, stay with the car. Do you copy?”
“Copy that.” There was a pause, and then he relayed the message that he had the car in sight.
They all breathed a sigh of relief, and Wang gave Liski and Capps directions to get back on the trail. They kept their distance, allowing the drone to do the work. After nearly three hours of driving, they entered the town of Al Hazm. Wang came over the comm.
“Rebel One, hold back. Looks like the car is off the highway that leads out of the town and on dirt roads. You’ll be out in the open.”
“Copy.”
“Rebel One, head northeast on five, five, six. About six or seven klicks up there’ll be a dirt road turnout to the small hilly range. Should provide you cover. Looks like the car is headed to a walled compound about two klicks west from that position,” Wang instructed.
Liski and Capps found the location and bounced across the rough terrain to a crevasse in the hills and parked. They removed the outer garment coverings that had worked in the city so their desert camo would help them blend into the hillside. They pulled their gear out of the trunk and then crawled to a vantage point. Capps focused the scope of the sniper rifle in his prone position, and Liski watched through the binoculars.
“Base, we’re in position and have visual on the car entering the target zone.”
“Copy.”
The car stopped at one of the buildings near the center of the compound, and the team watched as Katrina and the two escorts stepped out of the vehicle and were greeted by others.
✽✽✽
At the camp, Katrina was taken to a room where two women helped strip search her. After she was cleared, she was asked to clothe herself and cover her head again and wait in the room. She sat patiently for several minutes, and finally, Jamil Rasul entered and greeted her.
“Why do you come? Have you not seen the video?” he asked.
“Yes. I must say the Bear was surprised that you conducted the execution after agreeing to his terms,” Katrina said.
“Why does he send a woman to do his work?” Rasul asked.
“Why does the Lion send you? We both merely serve the will of our superiors.”
“I serve the will of Allah,” Rasul stated. “Follow me, please.”
Rasul led Katrina down a hall and then to a stairway to iron doors. A guard swung the squeaky door open, and she saw the dingy cells and imagined the suffering Cole Cameron must have experienced before his death. She began to think Rasul had similar plans for her. “Rasul, why am I here?”
“You want to see his body, don’t you?” Rasul motioned for her to enter the next cell door as the guard opened it for her. She cautiously stepped through the door and saw Cole Cameron’s body lying on the floor. The guard went over and kicked his side. Cole let out a deep moan.
“What? He’s alive? But the video? Why broadcast a mock execution?” Katrina was puzzled by the strategy.
“I’ll leave you two alon
e for a moment. I understand you were somewhat infatuated with the man.” Rasul and his guard left the cell.
Katrina knelt beside Cole and examined his wounds, then attempted to raise him to a sitting position. “I’m here to get you out. Come on.”
Cole shook his head and motioned for her to come close. Katrina bent over him and put her ear closer to listen to his whisper.
“Rasul is the Lion,” Cole whispered to her. “We have to kill him.”
Katrina knew that mock executions were a common torture technique designed to induce psychological trauma to break the will of the victim. Most likely Cole and the boy who pulled the trigger had no idea the gun was loaded with blanks. The weapon had been close enough to burn and severely bruise the side of Cole’s head.
Katrina was finally able to get Cole upright and put his arm around her shoulders to lead him out. Rasul shouted something in Arabic, and two of the guards took over the chore of putting a black hood over his head and guiding him out.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center – Langley
McCune looked at the clocks, 0706 in DC and 1506 in Yemen. Now on standard time, they were eight hours behind Yemen. Everyone in the den had stayed through the night except Amy Wiggins. She had a nervous breakdown after seeing the execution video. McCune watched the imagery of the camp provided by the MQ-1 Predator drone and heard the clank of the door behind her.
Amy was rejoining the group after all. Evidently, McCune reasoned, she had found the necessary grit to get back in the fight and hoped she could witness the destruction of those who had taken another friend. McCune acknowledged her with a nod as Amy donned the headset and powered up her workstation. Her phone rang at the desk. “Ma’am, it’s Director Kingman for you,” Amy said, handing her the receiver.
“McCune.” She listened for a minute. “Sir, my asset is still on location . . . yes, sir, Daphne.” She listened some more. “I understand, sir, but the intel she can bring is a potential gold mine. We’ve never been this close to getting to the Bear. Sir, I gave her my word we would protect her . . . yes, sir. I understand.”