Without Measure: A Jack Widow Thriller

by Scott Blade

  “Just some of it.”

  “Let’s just call them ISIS. That’s what they will become.”

  I stayed quiet.

  Malory said, “ISIS was originally the brainchild of a Jordanian man. Did you know that?”

  “I thought it came out of al-Qaeda?”

  “That’s where the power behind it came from, but no. Originally it was born in Jordan. Our trusted ally.”

  He took a puff from the cigar and blew out the smoke in a slow, lethargic breath. He said, “We were spying on a guy named Owen. He was a Brit banker. On the surface, he didn’t seem important. The only significant thing about him was that he used to work in our government. Back in the nineties. Maybe the eighties too.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “We killed him.”

  Malory puffed again and looked back at the roof entrance. He asked, “Ever heard of Edward Hunter?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “He was an American. He was a journalist in the 1950s. He worked in Miami. He’s best known as an anticommunist. He was also rumored to be a CIA agent.”

  I nodded.

  He said, “And he was. He was an agent. He wrote an article about Chinese torture and manipulation called xǐ năo. Do you know this one?”

  I looked down at him and then over his shoulders at the lonely streets below. I said, “I don’t know Chinese. I don’t have a lot of experience in that theater.”

  “It was a series of tortures designed to convert people into becoming allies of the People’s Republic. They tried to convert POWs into siding with them, even coercing them to do things that they didn’t want to do, like give up state secrets, even assassinations.”

  I felt my head cock involuntarily like I was not believing what I was hearing. And I said, “Are you talking about brainwashing?”

  Malory said, “Mr. Widow, xǐ năo means ‘washing the brain.’”

  CHAPTER 43

  I SAID, “YOU GOTTA BE JOKING?”

  “I’m afraid I’m serious. That’s what they were trying to accomplish.”

  “No way!”

  “Your government did the same thing. If you study American history, then you’ll recall the CIA trying to master brainwashing back in the seventies.”

  I said, “I remember. And even then they found it a crazy idea. We had all kinds of crazy ideas back then.”

  “It was your country that dreamed of space exploration. That used to sound crazy.”

  “The Russians made it to space first, not us.”

  “But it was still an American idea.”

  I said, “I’m not sure about that, but still brainwashing? Come on?”

  Malory said, “Think about it. ISIS tries to convert their captives all the time.”

  “You mean somehow ISIS has perfected something that my government couldn’t?”

  “Who said they didn’t perfect it?”

  I stayed quiet.

  Malory said, “The CIA tried narcotics. The Chinese used sleep deprivation and torture. The Germans tried vocal propaganda. And the Russians use misinformation. In some cases, they even support it with evidence. It can be quite effective.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He said, “Even kidnappers have some success in warping the minds of their captives. Ever heard of that?”

  I said, “Stockholm Syndrome.” I nodded along. I had heard of that. I had even seen it to a certain extent. It was a real phenomenon.

  “The chemicals, the propaganda, the misinformation, the torture, and Stockholm Syndrome all combined can be quite effective. Don’t you think?”

  “Are you saying that Turik was brainwashed? I already told you that he was innocent.”

  “Not Turik. Someone else.”

  “Who?”

  He didn’t answer that, not yet. He said, “The banker, Owen, that we followed into Jordan. He was supplying a man named Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. Ever heard of him?”

  “The founder of ISIS.”

  “Yes. Back then he was a part of something else. Small time in comparison to later. We had good intel that his group had started to implement a brainwashing program. It was working. They were using it on young recruits. Young men with nowhere else to go.”

  “That’s not proof of success. All of those Jihadist groups use the plight of young, impressionable people to convert them. Conversion isn’t the same as proof of brainwashing.”

  “Not all of these young groups were Arab. They were trying it on other groups. They were trying it on young Brits.”

  “Which is why you were interested?”

  “Yes. Owen was funding the whole damn thing. And he was bringing over names.”

  I asked, “Names?”

  “Potential targets. They were working on a very special list of names.”

  “Who?”

  “Young adolescents. You know the young are the most fragile, the most receptive to their brainwashing techniques. Brits and Americans too.”

  “What Americans?”

  “They looked for teenagers who had prominent parents. It all started with those who showed signs of rebellion. Do you have kids, Widow?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, let me tell you they are very impressionable when they are teenagers. Just think back to when you were one.”

  Which I did. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to imagine. I remembered growing up with no father. I remembered how close I was to my mother.

  Malory said, “Music, movies, drugs, there are a lot of things that can influence our kids today.”

  “I always had a thing for rock. I remember my mother wouldn’t let me listen to some CDs. But I don’t remember it being an influence on me. I became the man that I am because of her hard work. Nothing would’ve changed that.”

  “Widow, I can tell you firsthand that you can lose a child just like that.”

  He looked away and I got the sense that he meant the word firsthand. I stepped forward and asked, “What happened?”

  Malory was looking away in a deep, deep stare, but I sensed that tears were welling up in his eyes. He said, “I had a daughter. I lost her.”

  “How?”

  “We followed Owen into Jordan, as I said. That’s when we learned he was in contact with al-Zarqawi. We arrested Owen after. He told us that he had no choice. He told us that al-Zarqawi had taken his kid hostage. He told us that they would kill his boy. We told him to play ball and we’d save his kid. We told him that if he went along, we could save his son. We even offered him immunity in exchange for al-Zarqawi.”

  I said nothing.

  Malory said, “He went along with it. We had him wired. They were to meet in a safe place that we had already staked out. Well, al-Zarqawi saw us coming a mile away. They killed the boy, killed Owen and most of my squad. We were left with our pants down.”

  “What else?”

  “We retaliated in good British fashion. We bombed al-Zarqawi’s home in Zarqa. Only he wasn’t home. But his three daughters and two sons were. Not to mention his wife and brothers. The children were from two months all the way up to fifteen.”

  Malory paused a long beat and said, “I quit after that. I didn’t want to be in the service anymore.”

  “There’s more than that?”

  Malory nodded and said, “Fast-forward five months. I had a daughter. Young. She was nearly ten. My wife had left us both, long ago. So, it was just the two of us. I was in the Navy at this point. I was stationed in Portsmouth. I was deployed at sea for six months when it happened.”

  Malory turned back to me. He wasn’t sobbing, but I did see a single tear running out of his eye. He said, “My little Millie was taken. The captain pulled me into his private quarters and told me that the police had found my sister and her husband dead in their home and my little girl was gone.”

  I asked, “al-Zarqawi?”

  “Of course!”

  “How did you know?”

  “He sent a message. He sent an email. A video fi
le of her playing in the backyard of my sister’s house. Millie was swinging and playing around. The email was signed in the ISIS symbol garbage like their black flag.”

  There where no words. No demands. No ransom. Just the file.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I tried everything that I could to get her back. I used all kinds of resources behind the backs of my superiors. Years later, 2006, we found al-Zarqawi. This time, I wanted to pull the trigger myself. The brass wanted to bomb him. They wanted to let the Americans do it.

  “I had a good friend in your Marine Corps. So, I asked him to help. Carl knew the whole story. He had an agenda of his own as well. The CIA had learned of ISIS’s brainwashing programs and had learned that, like the Chinese, they were having some success with it. They wanted to put a stop to it. Although, I always thought that they wanted the research for themselves. However, I didn’t care. I wanted al-Zarqawi dead. So, I convinced Carl to help, since my country wasn’t going to.”

  A cold breeze gusted across the roof and I shivered, a quick movement.

  Malory said, “In 2006, we went into Baqubah, Iraq.”

  “You went personally?”

  “I did. Carl had to lead us, because he didn’t want to take the chance of losing control of the story. So he chose a small crew. We went in at night. It was a remote location. The risk was minimal. Al-Zarqawi was meeting with one other terrorist who was on your US target watch. They didn’t trust each other. Which was good for us because they only brought a couple of guys with them. We went in. and found al-Zarqawi. I shot him in the head. In his sleep. We killed the whole crew. It was only four extra guys. Only two were awake. It was an easy in and out.”

  I asked, “So what went wrong?”

  “What went wrong was that we lost one guy in the process.”

  “Who?”

  “On the way out, we got shot at. The tactical situation of the location meant that we had to chopper in about three miles away.”

  I said, “The visibility?”

  “Right, they were meeting in the middle of nowhere, but they were staying in a house on a hill. The trees were all shaved down for miles. We had no aerial cover. Which meant that we had to land far away and walk in. On the way out, we came across resistance. A twenty-man crew. They opened fire on us. We lost a guy. It was a Marine. He was shot.”

  “And you left him?”

  “He was dead. We saw him die. He was shot right in the chest. And we weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. We tried to recover his body.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “We were overcome by enemy fire. They had truck-mounted cannons. So, we retreated to the LZ. The chopper had to circle for a long time. We waited until morning. We were bogged down in the marshy land. We waited until the coast was clear and the chopper came in. We took it out.”

  I said, “We don’t leave a man behind. If he’s dead, we go get his body. Even if the mission is off the books. I don’t believe that the other Marines went along with it.”

  Malory said, “Carl said the same. So did Turik. And we went back. We had to cover up the mission anyway.”

  I stayed quiet. I was trying my hardest not to punch Malory. I didn’t like hearing that a Marine was abandoned by his brothers.

  Malory said, “So we bombed the compound and killed the rest of the crew. We spent days sifting through everything.”

  “Go on.”

  “We found all of the soldiers, the trucks, the firepower, and the men that we had already killed. They were still dead, only now they were blown to bits.”

  I waited for more.

  Malory said, “But…we never found the Marine’s body.”

  CHAPTER 44

  “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” I asked.

  Malory didn’t respond at first. He started to speak, but I interrupted and said, “You left an injured man alive?”

  “That’s right. And I’m greatly ashamed of it. We all were.”

  Malory looked out again over the landscape. This time I wasn’t sure if he was contemplating his sins or something else.

  I asked, “Were?”

  He said, “The Marine we left behind, he lived. I know that Carl and Turik both felt terrible about it. I don’t know how they ever explained it to their C.O.s. I guess that Carl was a high enough rank to make up some story.”

  “Who was the guy?”

  “His name is Danner.”

  “Mike Danner? The son of the guy who just died?”

  “That’s the one. He was a POW for nearly ten years. Five years ago, your government found out that he was alive.”

  “Five years ago?”

  “It took them five years to get him back. It was supposed to happen five years ago. It was supposed to be all hush hush, until the media got hold of the story. Guess how they did that?”

  I shook my head.

  Malory said, “Members of your American Congress. The opposition party, as in my country, is quite brutal. They found out that your president at the time was secretly negotiating to free Danner. Only that didn’t happen until the next cycle of administrations. Your politicians are as bad as ours.”

  “Danner spent ten years as a POW?”

  “He was only released about six months ago.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “Now, you understand my interest in the brainwashing. How long would it take for ISIS to brainwash a captured US Marine?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Malory said, “Ten years would be extremely admirable if he lasted that long.”

  “It’d be admirable if he lasted half that long.”

  He nodded and then he said, “Widow, the others from the mission.”

  “Yeah?”

  “There were six of us. Originally. Danner, Carl, Turik, myself, and two of my guys.”

  I nodded.

  He said, “They’re all dead. Except Danner and me.”

  CHAPTER 45

  THE ROOFTOP WAS chilling over and the temperature dropped and snow started to fall. It was slow, tiny flakes. Christmas had already passed, but the measured snow made me think of the perfect Christmas weather.

  Malory said, “It’s beautiful here. I’m in London now. It’s not as dreary as your American movies make it look, but it’s a far cry from calm winter weather like this.”

  I said, “I know. I’ve been there.”

  Malory turned to me. He said, “I’m so sorry.”

  I stared at him.

  He said, “Before I shot him, al-Zarqawi told me he enjoyed killing my daughter. He said that she was a pleasure to…a pleasure to rape.”

  This time a blatant tear formed and balled up and streamed out of his eye and down his face.

  I stayed quiet.

  “My revenge drove me to risk my friend’s lives. We left Danner behind. Ten years, he suffered. I ruined his family’s lives. I ruined Carl’s life. Turik’s. I should throw myself off this roof.”

  I grabbed him by the arms and said, “You’re not doing that!”

  He nodded.

  I said, “You’re going to come clean. Tell the Marine Corps what happened. Turik isn’t guilty. We know where Danner is. He’s probably at his house right now. You’re going to tell Romey the truth. Then she can arrest him.”

  “What about me?”

  “What about you? After we catch this bastard, then you can spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “My government will throw me in prison.”

  I let go of him and said, “That’s your problem.”

  Silence came between us for a long moment. Malory said, “What now?”

  “Let’s go downstairs. You can tell all of this to Romey. She’s worked this case very hard. Give her the satisfaction of setting this right.”

  Malory looked at me for a long moment. He had a look on his face that reminded me of someone of something. He looked in to my eyes. He looked like a different person than he had a moment ago. His pupils seemed to look right through
me, like I wasn’t even there.

  He had that same look on his face that I’d seen on Turik’s, fourteen hours ago.

  Malory turned, not fast, but everything was in slow motion. He grabbed the cement wall, planted both hands on it and jumped over the side.

  CHAPTER 46

  THE SNOW WAS STILL CALM, but I was not.

  I ran to the ledge and stared over the side. Three stories below, I saw that Malory’s dead body had hit the walkway leading to the front door. Blood was seeping out from underneath him. He had landed like a snow angel, one leg bent back and folded behind him. But his arms were spread out like wings. His lifeless face stared back at me. It only took a few moments for the blood to pool so far out that it filled the spaces under his arms and looked like his missing wings.

  He looked like a phoenix, only he wasn’t rising again.

  Romey stared up at me from the Police Mustang. Her eyes were wide. I stared back at her, frozen. I didn’t know what to do. She broke our stare and ran over to Malory’s body.

  She must’ve checked him for signs of life. But she found none. She looked back up at me. Horror was in her eyes. She thought I threw him.

  I turned, stared at the rooftop door. It was the only way off the roof. Well, not the only way, but I wasn’t following Malory.

  I did the only thing that I could think of.

  I ran.

  CHAPTER 47

  NOTHING BEATS THE IMPULSE TO RUN from the police like the need to survive.

  My mother had been a sheriff and her father before her. I had grown up in a cop family. She had always told me to never run from the cops. Always do as I was told, had been her philosophy, but this wasn’t the time to listen to that kind of thinking. In a day filled with misinformation and everything else, no way was anyone going to believe me that he threw himself off the roof.

  Romey might believe me. But no way was Raymond going to.

  I knew that Mike Danner was the bad guy. He had spent ten years in the Middle East as a POW. He had been transferred from one terrorist organization to the next until ISIS got him. He came back to the US and used Turik to kill Carl. He used Carl’s death to lure Malory here. And now he’s killed him too, without pulling a trigger, but the job was done, nevertheless.