Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020)

by Abbott, Mark David

“I don’t think you should come on the same flight.”

  Adriana straightened and put her hands on her hips.

  “Why?”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel it’s better, the less these guys know about us, the better. Mehmet knows we’ll be on the one o’clock flight. I’m sure he will have someone there, watching it. It’s better he only sees me, Steve, and Mansur.”

  “I agree.” Steve looked at Maadhavi. “I think it will be safer, honey.”

  Maadhavi looked questioningly at Adriana, who nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll book us on the next flight after yours.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll head down and pay the man,” Steve said as he headed for the door.

  “Good luck. Mansur will keep an eye on you.”

  Steve waved over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

  “I think it’s better to make two hotel bookings as well. Keep you and Maadhavi separate from ours.”

  “Okay.”

  The two women grabbed laptops and started typing away.

  John walked over to his bag and pulled out the second-hand laptop Steve had picked up in Dubai. He booted it up, opened Google Maps, and zoomed in on the border closest to Cizre. Now, where would they be crossing?

  41

  The captain had announced preparation for landing when Steve spoke up. The three of them were sitting together in coach, Mansur by the window, Steve in the middle, John in the aisle seat.

  “John, I want to ask you to do something for me.”

  John blinked his eyes open. He hadn’t been sleeping, just thinking, trying to plan for all eventualities.

  “Sure.”

  “If....” Steve cleared his throat. “If anything happens to me, please see that Mia is looked after.”

  John elbowed Steve. “Hey, nothing will happen. Why are you thinking like this?”

  “No, it’s just...”

  “Thinking like that won’t help any of us. We’re going in, straight to Idlib, pick her up, and coming straight back again.”

  “Yeah.”

  John didn’t like allowing thoughts like this to take shape, so he sought to change the subject.

  “You need to think about what you do once she is back here across the border. How is her child, will she need medical treatment? Where will you take them?”

  Steve nodded as he stared at the seatback in front of him.

  John glanced past Steve to look at Mansur, who was listening to the conversation. He didn’t look worried at all, and John wished he had the same composure. Despite what he was telling Steve, he was concerned, too. He had never been in a war zone, and although he had done many dangerous things in the past, nothing compared to what he was about to do. But he couldn’t let the others know what he was thinking. If they all started doubting their success, the mission was a failure before it even started.

  “Look, Steve, everything has worked out so far. I’m a firm believer if you are not supposed to do something, roadblocks are thrown up in your path to guide you in a different direction. So far, there have been no roadblocks. We can do it.”

  “Mr. John is right,” Mansur spoke for the first time. “Allah... God will always guide you. You just need to see the signs.”

  Steve looked at Mansur and gave a half-smile. “Thanks, mate.” He looked back at John. “Thank you both. I really appreciate what you are doing for me. I’ll never forget this. When this is all over... I owe you a beer this time.”

  John grinned. “So, then we’ll be even.” He looked at Mansur. “But what about Mansur? He doesn’t drink.”

  “Ah yeah, sorry, mate. Some coffee?”

  Mansur grinned. “It’s okay, Mr. Steve. It is my honor to help you.”

  Steve nodded, swallowed, and looked away. Mansur went back to looking out the window, and John leaned his head against the headrest. He thought back over what Mansur had said.

  He didn’t believe in God, Allah, whatever you liked to call it. Too many shitty things had happened in his past to believe in an all-seeing benevolent being, but when he thought back over the things he had done, there were signs of some sort of a guiding hand. Maybe it was intuition, a sixth sense, or even his subconscious drawing on the vast storehouse of information it had accumulated over his life, guiding his conscious mind in the correct course of action. Whatever it was, right now, there was nothing telling him that what they were doing was wrong. He had to keep faith and keep moving forward. There was no turning back now.

  42

  “Do you see him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mansur?”

  “The grey pickup?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think he’s watching us?”

  John threw the last of the bags in the back of the minivan and closed the door.

  “Well, he’s had eyes on us since we came out of the terminal.”

  The three men climbed into the van, Steve up front with John, Mansur in the back. John entered the address of the hotel into the phone, handed it to Steve, and started the engine.

  “Let’s see if he follows us.”

  He pulled out of the carpark, turned onto the exit road leading from Sirnak Airport to the main highway, and headed off.

  “Mansur?”

  “Wait... Yes, he’s left the parking, too.”

  John glanced at Steve. “I thought he would have someone follow us.”

  “Yeah, good job you suggested the girls travel separately.”

  John nodded, his eyes back on the road. He didn’t think there was anything to worry about, just Mehmet being prudent, but he knew they would have to keep on their toes.

  John joined the D380 heading southeast and glanced in his mirror.

  “Still there?”

  “Yes, Mr. John. About four cars back.”

  For just over fifteen minutes, they followed the highway through a sun-scorched patchwork of fields and villages. John kept just under the speed limit, Steve providing the directions while Mansur kept an eye on the vehicle following them. As they neared Cizre, they took the road skirting the town to the west and south before joining the E90 heading north.

  “Look at that!” Steve pointed out his window.

  “What?”

  “That wall.” Steve tapped on his window. “Is that the Syrian border?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Shit. We’re so close.” He turned to look at John. “It’s actually happening.”

  “Yup.” John nodded, his eyes back on the road.

  “The wall is massive. How the fuck are we getting across that?”

  John glanced in the mirror at the vehicle following them.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  The E90 crossed over the River Tigris before taking a turn to the south. John took the exit road just after the turn and a minute later, pulled up outside their hotel, the pickup staying with them all the way. If there had been before, there was no doubt now the vehicle had been following them.

  It was the only decent hotel in a town battered by the Turkish government’s crackdown on its predominantly Kurdish population five years earlier, but it had a five-star rating and was next to the river. Anyway, they weren’t planning on being there long. John pulled up in front and climbed out. He walked around to the back, opened the door, and smiled at the bellhop who had come rushing down the steps.

  “Welcome, sir.”

  “Thank you.” He handed over the keys and turned to Steve and Mansur. “Get us checked in. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  “Where are you going?”

  John didn’t answer, already heading toward the pickup he had seen pull up further down the road. As he approached, he saw the look of surprise on the driver’s face. John stepped onto the road, blocking the vehicle’s path, and walked around to the driver’s window and tapped on the glass. The man inside reluctantly wound down the window. John put on his biggest smile and stuck his hand through the window.

 
“I’m John. You must be Hemin?”

  43

  Mia was secretly pleased to have company. She had spent months alone, just her and Malak, waiting for Naeem to come home, sweating through the summer, shivering through the winter, always hungry, always fearful he wouldn’t come back from the front.

  Now at least, she had someone to talk to, someone to take her mind off the always present hunger and boredom.

  Some of the older women tried to go out to find food, but the young fighter guarding the door wouldn’t allow them to leave. They pleaded with him but gave up when he turned the barrel of his AK47 on them.

  The hours passed in stories—of childhood, of a better time before the war—the women taking turns holding Malak and sharing what tiny morsels of food they had saved with her. The younger girls had only known the war and couldn’t imagine a time when people weren’t fighting or hungry.

  As the shadows lengthened across the room, Mia thought about turning the phone on again and calling Steve. She glanced at her watch, a present from her mother on her eighteenth birthday. It seemed so long ago now. It had been years since she had seen her, and only since Malak had been born had she even reconnected with them. She still had around thirty minutes before the agreed time to call and hoped there was still enough battery for the phone to start up. The fighting had been fierce in the last few days, despite the rumored ceasefire, and Naeem hadn’t had enough downtime to seek out a building with a generator, so he could recharge it.

  What was he doing now? She turned her head toward the window and realized the constant sound of shelling in the distance was absent. She heard something else, men’s voices in the street, and she stiffened, as did the other women. She heard a shout, a man’s name being called, then a minute later footsteps in the building. The women separated, moved away from the center of the room toward the walls, pulled their scarves over their heads, and wrapped their clothes around them. The almost cheerful atmosphere of minutes before completely dissolved, replaced with apprehension. Mia took Malak from one of the women and cradled her in her arms, then shuffled her butt along the floor until she was in the corner.

  The steps and voices got nearer, then men appeared in the doorway. One by one, they filed in, leaned their weapons against the wall, and flopped down on the floor, exhausted—all except one, the man with yellow teeth. He stood in the doorway, looking around the room, his eyes running over each woman until they finally settled on Mia. She gripped Malak tighter and tried to get closer to the wall behind her. Yellow Teeth sniffed, his eyes boring holes in her. His mouth widened into a leer, and he took a step closer, unslinging his AKM. He held out the weapon, and a man on the floor beside the door took it from him. Mia’s heart started pounding in her chest, her jaw clenched tight. She looked to her side for help, but the other women had their gaze averted, careful not to attract attention to themselves. They had all been through this before, there was no escaping it. Yellow Teeth licked his lips and walked across the room to stand over her, his hands on his hips, looking down at her. His eyes were wide, and his breathing was erratic.

  Mia looked away, hugging Malak close to her chest, looking down at the floor. She heard more footsteps, and another pair of boots appeared beside those of Yellow Teeth’s. She flinched, closed her eyes, then heard a familiar voice.

  “Malak, wake up, Papa’s home.”

  Her eyes blinked open, and she saw Naeem crouched in front of her. Exhaling with relief, she looked over his shoulder to see Yellow Teeth glaring down at them. Naeem pretended he wasn’t there and shifted his position, so he was between Mia and Yellow Teeth. Yellow Teeth cleared his throat, spat a big glob of phlegm on the floor, then turned away. He barked an order, and the other men cleared a space for him against the far wall. Walking over, he sat down, still glaring in their direction while Naeem reached out and stroked Malak’s face with grimy fingertips.

  “Everything is okay, Papa is here,” he murmured, then looked up into Mia’s eyes, and gave a subtle nod.

  44

  John walked back to the front of the hotel, where the two men were still waiting.

  “All okay?”

  “Yeah, he was Hemin.”

  “Why was he following us?” Mansur asked as he watched the pickup pull out into traffic and drive off.

  “Mehmet told him to keep an eye on us.” John watched the vehicle disappear up the road. “He seems like a good guy. Much better than Mehmet, anyway. He actually apologized, said he was just following orders.”

  “Good, so what’s the plan?”

  John looked around and made sure there was no-one in earshot. Two men walked past, deep in conversation, and the bellhop had already gone inside with the bags. He lowered his voice, anyway.

  “We leave at two-thirty a.m. He’ll pick us up in the side street there.” John nodded toward the street that ran along the side of the hotel, near the entrance to the parking garage. “He said to dress warmly and wear dark clothing.”

  “Okay.” Steve slapped Mansur on the back, “Don’t wear your dishdasha.”

  “I know.” Mansur grinned. “Dog’s balls.”

  The three of them chuckled, the mood lightening. John checked his G-Shock.

  “Let’s get settled in. The girls won’t be here until around seven-thirty. Let’s eat well and get some rest. It will be a long night. We’ll meet again just before seven in my room. We need to let Mia know we are coming, and she needs to let us know exactly where we can find her.”

  John tried to sleep, but his mind was racing, and he had given up after a while. Instead, he spent the time researching Idlib, looking at photos and maps online to try to get an idea of what to expect. It was a small agricultural town once famed for its olive oil but now only occupied the news as one of the last strongholds of the Al Qaeda backed H.T.S. John skimmed through the photos of bombed-out streets and destroyed buildings, feeling increasingly worried about the task ahead. He wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew but quickly forced the thought back down. He had been in tough situations before, times when he had almost lost hope, but he had pushed through and succeeded. He had to hope this would be the same.

  There was a tap on the door, and he checked his watch, five to seven. He slid off the bed and opened the door to see Steve and Mansur waiting in the corridor.

  Standing aside to let them in, he noted the strained look on Steve’s face.

  “Did you get some sleep?”

  “Nah.”

  “Mansur?”

  “No, I was watching TV.”

  John waved to the single chair and the bed. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Mansur took the chair while Steve perched on the corner of the bed. John sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard while Steve dialed Mia’s number.

  “Put it on speaker.”

  Steve tapped the screen, and they waited for the call to connect.

  Nothing happened.

  Steve tried again.

  Nothing.

  He looked up at John.

  “It’s not going through.”

  “Keep trying. Could be a network issue.”

  Steve tried again... and again, but nothing happened.

  “Fuck,” he cursed, then threw to phone down on the bed. “What do we do now?”

  “It’s okay, Steve. There could be many reasons. No network, her battery flat...” John glanced at Mansur, then back to Steve. “We’ll keep trying every hour.”

  Steve sighed, stood, and paced in front of the bed.

  “What do we do? What if we can’t get hold of her before we leave here? We don’t know where she is. She doesn’t know we’re definitely coming.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “Shit, fuck, shit!”

  John let him vent. Steve was right. What if they couldn’t get in touch with her? Would it be a wasted journey? He looked at Mansur, who had been watching calmly.

  “What do you think, Mansur?”

  Mansur brushed imaginary lint from the legs of his pants, took a de
ep breath, and said, “I think we should still try.”

  Steve stopped pacing and looked at him.

  “How will we find her?”

  Mansur shrugged. “I don’t know, but if we stay here, we will never find her.” He glanced at John, then back at Steve. “Mr. Steve, we are doing something good. He will show us the way.”

  “He? Oh…” Steve stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the carpet, then nodded.

  “Okay, if you guys are happy to still proceed…” He looked up. “We’ve already come this far, so let’s do it.”

  Mansur nodded. “I’m in.”

  They both turned and looked at John.

  John chewed his lip. After what he had seen on the internet, he wasn’t so bullish, but he couldn’t let his friend down. Hoping he wasn’t about to make the most stupid decision of his life, he nodded.

  “I’m in.”

  45

  “Who is he?”

  “He calls himself Abu Mujahid,” Naeem murmured as he rocked Malak. “He’s my new commander after Abu Qasim was martyred.”

  Mia glanced across the room to where Abu Mujahid was sitting cross-legged on the floor, cleaning his weapon by the light of the single solar-powered lamp whose light failed to reach the corners of the room.

  “He scares me.”

  “Hmmm. He fought in Iraq before coming here.” Naeem nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on his baby daughter. “He’s a bit crazy. He believes Allah has made him bulletproof.”

  “You knew about these women? Before?”

  Naeem sighed. “Yes.”

  “They are slaves, Naeem.”

  “They are Al Sabayah. Prisoners of war.” Naeem shrugged, “It is allowed.”

  “Allowed?” Mia looked at him in disbelief. “Allowed?” she asked again. “By whom? And besides, they are Muslim.”

  “They are Yazidi, not true Muslims. They are kuffaar and worship the devil.”

  Mia struggled to keep her voice down as her temper rose. She tried another tack.