Beyond the Checkpoint

by Addison M. Conley

  “I can make my own decision.”

  Ali’s eyes showed unwavering determination. Lynn fell into the chair and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Most of the scenarios didn’t end well. Her voice cracked. “Please don’t do this.”

  Ali ran her slim fingers through her reddish-brown hair. “Frankly, I don’t think you have many options.”

  I’ll never forgive myself if something happens. “Okay,” Lynn conceded. “But only if headquarters approves. First, let’s run it by Colonel Peterson. Ali, think this over. We’ll be right back.” Lynn followed Evans out the door.

  After a few steps, Lynn grabbed Evans, spun him around, and pulled him inches from her face. Through gritted teeth, she warned him in a low voice, “No one gets hurt under my watch. I’ll go to the admiral and shoot it down if we can’t formulate an airtight plan within 24 hours.” She released him. “Now get Peterson.”

  She watched him walk away, then turned on her heel. With her hand on the door handle, she swallowed and said a silent prayer. Please change your mind.

  “Ali, I’m sorry how this has unfolded.”

  “Stop!” Ali paced back and forth. “Did you set me up to come onto you?”

  “NO! I do care about you.”

  “As a friend with benefits? After all, that seems to be your MO.”

  “No. I…I love you.”

  Ali stopped pacing and faced Lynn with wide eyes. “Kind of two years too late. You could have told me when I first said it to you.”

  Lynn ran her hands through her hair. “I was messed up and had nothing to offer you. Please don’t agree to this. I couldn’t live if something happened to you. This can’t possibly be pulled off safely with only two days’ planning. I’ll tell Peterson when he gets here that it’s a no go.”

  “This may be the best opportunity to catch whoever killed Dan. I don’t want someone else getting hurt. As for the classified, you damn well know that thieves take more the bolder they get. We’ve got to stop this.”

  The door opened, and Evans shot through. “It’s a go.”

  Panic hit Lynn. “What the frak are you talking about? Where’s Peterson?”

  “He immediately contacted the admiral who approved.”

  Lynn lost control and grabbed Evans by the lapels and shook him. “You, asshole!”

  “Lynn, stop! Have you lost your mind?”

  Evans’s jaw tightened. “We have to work together for now. After this is over, I will pay you back, Major. I’m going to get some rest. I suggest you two do as well. Headquarters and Special Forces are now handling the preparations.” He wiped his lip with the back of his hand. “Check your email.” He walked backwards to slip out the door as if expecting another attack.

  Lynn hung her head. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted.”

  “Just calm down. There must be a reason for Evans’s last words. Open your email.”

  Admiral Kent had indeed signed off. They were to report tomorrow at 0600 for an update. The operation was going down in 72 hours.

  Chapter 29

  The Sting Operation

  Chink. Chink.

  Lynn jingled a set of keys over and over in her hand. Dustin’s face flashed before her eyes. She blinked rapidly but didn’t take her eyes off the video screens. Stay strong. We’ve got to get Ali home in one piece.

  Chink. Chink.

  Evans cupped his hand over hers and said, “Stop it. It’s irritating, and I can’t think.”

  After putting the keys in her pocket, she wiped her brow. Why am I sweating so much? She stood up, then leaned over and grabbed the table.

  “You okay?” Evans and the other four Special Forces guys were watching her.

  “Yeah. I’m going for a walk before the op begins. I won’t leave the compound, and I’ll be back soon.”

  Blair blocked her way. “A word with you, please.”

  Breathing in the cold outside air helped the dizziness. Blair motioned to his armored SUV, then opened the door and waited for her to get inside. The driver and a bodyguard with a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun eyed her.

  The SUV felt like an airtight, stuffy coffin. The smell of leather cleaner hung in the air and caused her stomach to flip. Blair slid in. She focused straight ahead and took a deep breath before daring to glance into his stone face.

  “Leave us,” he flicked his wrist at the driver and guard.

  “Sir, Colonel Peterson contacted Admiral Kent after you left for Jalalabad. We meant no disrespect.”

  Blair held up his hand for her to stop, then peered out the window before turning with a glare that could melt glaciers. She thought he would finally scream. She waited for him as several long seconds of silence ticked by.

  “As you might recall from my greeting with Colonel Peterson, I once worked at NPIC. Leaving out the boring details, essentially the same agency as the one that employees Ms. Clairmont.” The steady tone of his voice didn’t match the rest of his face, which had grown red with anger. “I still have friends at NGA.” He was grinding his teeth now. “I also have a connection with Ms. Clairmont’s family.”

  What the frak does that mean?

  He held up his finger again, then brushed imaginary lint off his pants. Lynn wanted to reach out and smack his hand away but softened when he turned. His face and eyes were full of sorrow.

  “Major, I have a personal stake in Ms. Clairmont’s welfare. And since you’re her lover, I’m sure you do as well.” Within seconds, his face hardened again. “This sting op has more risks than I can count. I’m disappointed you could not present a better option to the admiral.”

  Evans’s lies made her boil. “I understand, Mr. Blair. We’re less than an hour before they reach the compound.”

  “Major, we may have our differences, but today, we all will do our best to ensure everyone comes home safely, hopefully with the spy captured. Afterward, I want all the details on how this op was planned and executed in your after-action report.” He opened the door. “Let’s get back inside. We have a job to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It wouldn’t matter that Evans jumped rank to push this operation, Lynn was Evans’s commander and had to take full responsibility. That meant taking the heat, and likely a disciplinary letter in her file, once the op finished.

  Back inside, she sunk into her seat next to the Special Forces analysts monitoring the situation and slipped on her audio headset.

  “Listen up, folks,” Colonel Peterson’s voice boomed over their headsets. “Ms. Clairmont and Captain Dalton are in one MRAP with four guards. Major Ratcliffe’s in another. The other two MRAPs are transporting medics who are not privy to the operation. All the guards are undercover Special Forces with body cams. The MRAPs also have hidden cameras.”

  Lynn could hear Peterson pacing right behind them.

  “You all should have studied the picture of the Afghan teacher and her husband. Now, the laptop Dalton was given only had unclassified data. We made a forensic image before he picked it up. Ratcliffe did not check out a computer. Catching either with classified information in their possession or copied onto the laptop would seal the deal. Catching them passing anything classified to the Afghan couple would be the cherry on the top. So, be on the lookout.”

  Blair said, “To add an extra incentive, we set Ms. Clairmont up with fake NSA documents. After the medical clinic, the convoy is supposed to stop at a combat post where Ms. Clairmont is to deliver the documents. She will pretend to break all the rules. So, don’t be alarmed when you see the security bag is unlocked, and she talks about losing the key. That’s part of the plan. Also, she will leave the bag unattended. Filming Dalton’s reaction will help, but if we’re lucky, he might try to steal something.”

  “Thirty minutes to approximate showtime, sir,” the Special Forces lead analyst announced.

  Thank God, the hidden cameras and mics are state of the art. Lynn took a few more deep breaths. Calm down. Breathe. She didn’t care if this assignment got her a promotion or thrown out.
No one could get hurt. Dustin…blood… “What if it’s another connection, not this woman, and we’ve got it all wrong?” Frak, I said that out loud. Control yourself. She turned to her right. Blair’s eyes bore into her.

  “We sit back and wait, Major.” He moved up next to her and patted her hand. “And pray that today is not a day for sacrifice.”

  Ali hoped her nervousness simply came off as naivety. “I remember an earlier trip. It was wonderful to see the children smile.” Oh, no. Did I just tip him off? “Anyway, after hearing about the vaccination program, headquarters thought it’d be a great opportunity.”

  “Polio and measles are still common. Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?” Dalton said with no emotion in his voice.

  “Seeing a clinic will give me an experience I can’t get behind a desk. The mapping data is needed from the sensors on the hull of the MRAP, and the package, you know…has to be delivered afterward.” Her eyes darted to the bag holding the fake classified. She mumbled, “Oh shit. It’s unlocked.” She rummaged around in her pocket. “I can’t find the key.” She acted as frazzled as possible.

  The MRAP lurched to a stop.

  “Are you ready, Ms. Clairmont?”

  Ali bit her lip and pointed to the bag. “It’s only for a short time. Do you think it will be okay?”

  If it had been an actual classified bag, they would both be at fault for leaving it unattended. Ali worried for a second that Dalton wouldn’t buy this charade. But this was what headquarters wanted her to do.

  “Of course. One of the guards will be posted outside and make sure no Afghans enter.” He smiled and motioned to exit, clenching the briefcase with the laptop.

  “That’s a large briefcase.”

  “I have to interview some administrators. It requires lots of paperwork.”

  After entering the clinic, the smell of antiseptic and something sickening—the foul stench of stool—hit her immediately. A healthcare worker greeted them with a smile. A strand of straight black hair peeked out from under her cap. She had a lazy eye with the eyelid dropping almost shut over the lovely dark brown iris. She directed them to wash up, and handed them protective gowns, gloves, and masks.

  Dalton didn’t put on the protective dress. “You’ll see that the tour is pretty cramped. They aren’t crazy about having men here who aren’t medical staff.” He looked toward the snap of Ali’s glove. He plastered a smile up to his ears. “I need to get to that other business. See you later.”

  He waltzed out the door. Ali started to follow but was grabbed by the female guard accompanying her who whispered, “Don’t worry. We’ve got him and Ratcliffe under surveillance. Let’s look for the woman.”

  The healthcare woman said to the group, “Respiratory and diarrheal diseases take the lives of many children. We try to keep things sanitized as best as possible, but there aren’t enough cleaning supplies. The smell tends to linger.”

  An Afghan woman wearing a traditional dress with a colorful headscarf appeared to be the same build as the woman they were looking for. But when she turned, Ali saw she was not the teacher.

  “I have to be blunt,” she said in an American accent. “I’ve volunteered here for almost a year and don’t care for military inspections, but I know we don’t get humanitarian funding without them. After a quick tour, I expect you to keep out of the way while we administer care. Even better, there are other buildings on the compound. Got it?” She quickly put on the protective clothing. “Let’s go.”

  Every space was packed with people or supplies. Children slept upright or in their mother’s arms as there was barely room to walk. Unlike those at the school, these children were malnourished and sick.

  “That end of the hall is off limits. We’ve got several cases of measles. As you can see, we need every dime and penny we can get. Now, please go back that direction and stay out of our way.”

  Ali shook her head. They had not seen the Afghan woman yet. Outside, they walked in the direction of the supply building. Ali stopped in her tracks. Her hand flew to her mouth. A child about the age of five dangled in her father’s arms. Burns on the legs were so severe that the skin had sloughed off in spots. Ali turned away.

  “You okay?” A man with soft brown eyes came up and asked. His name tag identified him as a doctor.

  Her guard replied, “She’s fine. We were just leaving.”

  Ali shook off the guard’s hand. “What happened to the child?”

  The doctor swallowed and pursed his lips. “There’s nothing we can do. I’m sending them to the building where patients are near death. The father says she fell into cooking oil, but that’s not what happened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The man sucked his lip into his mouth before looking into Ali’s eyes and answering. “The burn marks were even on both legs. Some of the Afghans punish their children by dipping them into hot water or oil. This was too hot. She won’t survive.”

  “Oh my, God.” The words barely come out of Ali’s mouth. Suffering children crushed her.

  “I don’t know how important you are, but we need an increase in funding.” His eyes pleaded. “This country has been at war for over thirty years, and a large segment of the population is in dire poverty and uneducated. Abuse is widespread, especially in rural areas. We see it in all different age groups. Beyond the physical cases, we try to treat mental issues and educate. Progress is slow.”

  Ali held up her hand to the guard then squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and took some deep breaths. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Lynn couldn’t take her eyes off the screens. The feed from the hidden cameras and mics was excellent quality.

  When Ali turned away from the burned child, Evans said, “She’s too soft, but that should be to our advantage. Shows she cares deeply about the women and children. Makes her role believable.”

  “Quiet. No unnecessary comments,” Lynn said without looking in his direction.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Peterson pointed to another screen.

  A car arrived, and the Afghan couple got out and greeted Ratcliffe. Rafia left the two men and walked towards the mosque. Ratcliffe pulled a small object out of his pocket.

  “Zoom in,” Blair ordered. “Where’s the audio?”

  One of the analysts clicked the computer mouse, and the conversation filled the room.

  Ratcliffe said, “We weren’t able to get you everything you asked for. You can check the thumb drive later.” He handed the drive to Arman and said, “We’re having trouble with Pakistan.”

  “I understand.” Arman put his hand over his heart and nodded, and Ratcliffe walked away.

  Lynn bumped Blair on the shoulder and pointed to another screen. The woman entered a mosque, and Dalton followed.

  Blair said, “Don’t roll up Ratcliffe and the Afghan until Dalton is out of view. And switch the audio for God’s sake.”

  Evans leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head. “Women and men have separate mosque entrances and don’t mingle. Either they’ve found a clever way, or we’re chasing ghosts with these two.”

  An operator shouted. “He’s left the mosque!”

  Dalton reentered the MRAP. He shuffled through Ali’s bag but didn’t take anything, then exited and went back to the mosque.

  “Why didn’t he take anything?” Evans said.

  “Clever shyster.” Blair leaned in. “By examining the contents, he’s judging the level of classified that Ms. Clairmont is trusted with. The next step is to butter her up over several weeks and establish a level of camaraderie. Ultimately, he would look for a way to take advantage of her or find something of blackmail value. Classic handler behavior.” He pounded his fist on the desk. “But we’re going to catch him, and everyone is coming home safe and sound.”

  Lynn rubbed her neck. Come on, Ali. Identify the woman and get back here safely.

  The guard grabbed Ali’s elbow to move her along. “Time to go. They’re going to move on ar
resting them.”

  Halfway across the courtyard, Ali glanced across the street. “Stop! Dalton’s already handed it over. Come on!” She tugged the guard in the other direction.

  “What are you talking about? The mosque is surrounded, and Dalton and the woman are inside.”

  Ali pointed to a woman. “She has a briefcase and looks like the family servant, Ziba.”

  The guard spoke into her headset. “Send two guns across the street. Clairmont says the servant has the briefcase…Copy that.” She turned to Ali. “You’re right. Dalton and Rafia came out of the mosque and are being detained.”

  Lynn and Blair were glued to the screen showing Ali’s movements while other analysts watched the guards moving in on Ratcliffe and Dalton.

  “What the frak are they doing?” Lynn threw down a pen and pointed to the screen. “They crossed the street into an area with multi-story buildings. They’re easy pickings in that narrow alley.” She turned to Peterson. “Stop them. It’s too dangerous with only one guard.” Every nerve in Lynn’s body was on edge.

  “I agree. Tell the guard to stop.”

  The audio operator replied, “I can’t. For some reason, our comms aren’t getting through. We can hear them, but they can’t hear us.”

  “Fix it!” Lynn yelled. The hair stood on the back of her neck, and unpleasant goosebumps spread over her body. Blair rubbed his head and moved away. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His face was ashen.

  “Ziba,” Ali called.

  The young woman opened the door to a car and tossed in the briefcase.

  “Ziba! We know what’s going on. Please don’t do this.” Ali pleaded.

  “Stop!” Ali’s guard had her gun drawn.

  A man exited the car pointing a machine gun, and two more Afghans came out of a doorway with guns drawn. Ali cursed under her breath. Over the sound of her pounding heart, she heard another MRAP.