“Which is?”
“The data that Salma copied onto a USB drive? The drive is gone.”
“Define gone.”
She told him about the slavers. “It could be anywhere at this point.”
“Damn.”
“I’m going to put Salma on so she can do a data dump of what she was able to glean.”
Jet handed her the phone, and Salma took Leo through what she knew of the plan. When she finished, he asked a series of pointed questions and then asked to speak to Jet again.
“Yes?” she said.
“I’ll get all of this to the director. What are your options for getting to Tripoli, worst case?”
Jet’s heart sank at the question, which told her that Leo didn’t have a lot of confidence in the helicopter rescue scenario.
“We don’t have any options.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to think of some. Things have changed since we last spoke. I just got word that Libya’s going to be sealed off within the next forty-eight hours. The Americans are going to blockade it by sea, and its neighbors are closing the borders.”
“Why?”
He explained about the gas leak on the fishing boat and the hundreds of dead refugees. Jet listened in stony silence until he was done.
“Where does that leave us?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“I’ll get back to you. How’s your battery?”
Jet glanced at the indicator. “About fifty percent.”
“Leave the phone on. I’ll call as soon as I have something.”
Jet stabbed the call button off and turned to Salma. “We’re on our own for now. Let’s keep going. Let me know if you see any promising patches of ground. You’re more familiar with this area than I am.”
“Will do.”
They trudged along the road for a half hour, and then Salma grabbed Jet’s arm and pointed to her left. “That looks promising.”
Jet regarded the strip of darker terrain for a moment. “Let’s give it a try.”
They left the road and found themselves on reasonably solid footing, and Jet paused at the far edge of the harder ground. “This is as good as it’s going to get?”
“I think so. Hard to say. The closer we get to Sebha, the better it should be. There are farms and orchards both to the south of town and the north.”
“Would they have vehicles?”
“They might.”
“Then our best shot is to find one and see if we can’t liberate it.”
“If we’re that far out of town, it’ll take some time to reach the orchards.”
“Then let’s pick up the pace.”
The going got rougher once on the sand, and soon their legs were aching from the effort, the desert sucking at their feet with every step. Salma began falling behind, and Jet had to slow to let her keep up.
“Sorry,” Salma said. “I lost half the skin on my feet on the trip to Sebha.”
“Do the best you can.”
“I will.”
“But tell me if you need to rest. If you don’t say anything, I’ll assume you’re okay.”
“Fair enough.”
Jet stared out over the desert before her gaze landed again on the younger woman. “I knew your brother.”
“My brother?” Salma asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes. David.”
“How…how do you know about us?”
“There are no secrets from the Mossad. You should know that.”
“But why would they tell you?”
Jet considered how to answer and decided on the direct approach. “He and I were a couple for a while. One that produced my daughter. Our daughter. So you have a niece.”
Salma stared at Jet like she was mad. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
Salma thought for a moment. “How old is she?”
“Four.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. When Salma spoke, her voice was softer. “I didn’t have much contact with him. He was a stranger to me.”
“I think he was that way with just about everyone. It was his nature.”
She appraised Jet anew. “Obviously not everybody.”
“We fell in love. It was a long time ago.” She hesitated. “Did you…hear about him?”
“What about him? I’ve been stuck in Libya for three years.”
“He…he passed away.”
This time the silence lasted longer. Jet decided to be the one to break it. “So we’re the only family you have. My daughter. And by extension, me.”
“That’s a lot to absorb. You tell me I have a niece, and my brother’s dead, in the same breath. I mean…hard to figure out what to do with that.”
“I wanted you to know. That’s why I took the assignment. I have a vested interest in seeing you get home safely.”
“I don’t understand. You volunteered to do this?”
“They asked me, and I said yes. I didn’t want to leave David’s sister stranded in Libya and hope they sent someone competent.”
Salma frowned. “Now I really don’t understand. The Mossad doesn’t allow its operatives to have children. Not field agents.”
“True. It’s one of the reasons I quit.”
“But you’re here.”
“I freelance for them on sensitive operations.”
“And you left your daughter to come to this hellhole?”
“It wasn’t an easy decision. But yes.”
Another long pause. “How did David die? Do you know?”
“Yes. I was with him. It was a…a messy operation that wound up going wrong.”
“Oh, God…”
Jet sighed and embraced Salma before looking away.
“He wasn’t around that day.”
Chapter 25
An arctic wind from the west cut through Jet’s and Salma’s robes like a knife as they pushed north, the moon now lower in the sky as dawn approached. Salma had been marching along without complaint, but was now visibly limping from sand grinding into the raw patches of her brutalized feet, and was struggling in silence to keep up with Jet’s pace.
They paused at a firm patch of ground to rest, and Jet eyed the younger woman in the predawn glow.
“What size shoes do you wear?” she asked.
Salma told her, and Jet shook her head. “My boots will be too small for you. They won’t do you any good. Sorry.”
“I appreciate it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll do what I have to do.” She paused and looked off at the darkened desert. “I always have.”
Jet was silent for a moment. “This whole experience must have been…hard.”
“You have no idea. Married to that filth. It was a…a nightmare. He was worse than a pig. He treated me like his property. And when he would come for me at night…I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to slice his throat in his sleep, or kill myself to end it. The only reason I didn’t was I knew he was involved in something big, and I was the only one who could do anything to stop him. Still, he’s the most vile, disgusting…I’m so glad this is over.”
Jet exhaled heavily. “It’s not an assignment that most would have been willing to take.”
“I know. I didn’t want to. But there was an opportunity, and I was the right age, with the right skills. They convinced me.” She hesitated. “If I’d known what it was going to be like, I probably wouldn’t have. The reality of it was so much worse than anything could have prepared me for. And it wasn’t just him. This country. It’s…It’s prehistoric. Like the last thousand years never happened. You’ve seen just a fraction of it. I’ve been living it for years. It’s…there are no words to describe how oppressive and evil many of these places are.”
“I’ve seen enough. Slave markets, armed militia, disgusting conditions.”
Salma nodded. “Every abomination you can imagine is taking place here. There’s a club in Sebha where you can sodomize a six-year-old boy for pocket change. Where you can murder a teenage girl after raping
her, and they’ll just cart off the body and charge you extra. Where they’ll kidnap someone with the same blood type and kill them for whatever organ you need. There’s nothing to depraved, too evil.” She swallowed, unable to continue for a moment. “And that’s what men like Mounir and his kind want to turn the world into. It’s the water they swim in. The air they breathe. They would turn Israel into a hellhole like Libya for some twisted ideological sickness they want to infect everyone else with. Some medieval dogma that doesn’t even make sense. It’s just driven by hate. It’s the currency they trade in.”
“Which is why the gas attacks are starting.”
“Yes. Their glorious leader is now out of prison, and he intends to remake the world in his image. Mounir’s more than honored to help him.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Tariq? He’s insane. Like the kind of crazy that would gladly detonate an atomic bomb and murder millions of innocents if he thought he could get away with it. He hates America, and Israel, and Europe – mainly because they go along with whatever Washington wants. So he wants to destroy all three if he can, starting with Israel. That’s his passion. He views our existence as blasphemy. And he holds England and the U.S. responsible for us having our own country. He views us as invaders, illegally occupying land that isn’t ours, given to us by an illegitimate government that never should have had the power to do so.”
“Sounds like a charming guy. Have you met him?”
Salma shook her head. “He was in prison the entire time I’ve been here. But I’ve heard hundreds of hours of his philosophy from Mounir. It’s the most toxic mix of half-truths and anti-Semitism and racial hatred you can imagine. But it finds adherents. There are so many here who lost everything after the regime fell that they’ll listen to anything, join any fringe group, if it gives them meaning and a sense of identity. That’s the big danger. Mounir would gladly give his life to achieve Tariq’s vision. And there are a thousand more Mounirs waiting to take his place.” She took a deep breath. “I wish I hadn’t lost the USB drive. It was all on there. Everything.”
“Sounds like you saw enough. We know they’re planning to launch gas attacks in Europe and transport the gas with refugee boats. That should be sufficient.”
“Yes, but all the details would have been invaluable. Like…where are they storing it? How did they get it in the first place? What specific targets have they chosen? How are they planning to get it into Israel, and when? Those are a lot of unanswered questions.” She frowned. “They should just turn this whole place into a crater and be done with it.”
Jet got to her feet. “Ready to keep going?”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
“I passed a Bedouin camp when I was following you. That’s also up ahead.”
“We don’t want to get within a mile of them. Most stay to themselves, but there are plenty of malevolent groups that are involved in the slave trade.”
“That was my thinking.” Jet powered on the GPS, waited until it acquired a signal, and studied the screen. “Here’s where we are. So yes, we’re not that far from the first of the agricultural spreads.”
Salma adjusted the shoulder strap of the AK she’d taken from Mounir’s man and hefted the saddlebag as she stood. “Lead the way. Once it’s light out, we’re going to be sitting ducks for anyone Mounir sends, as well as for the local warlords.”
Jet nodded. “Shouldn’t be too much farther.”
“I hope you’re right. I’m going to need feet transplants after this.”
“I wish there was something I could do for you, Salma. I’m sorry.”
“Not your problem. I’m lucky you risked everything to try to get me out of here.”
They began walking again. Salma cleared her throat. “I really didn’t know David. Hardly at all. Now…I never will.”
“He was complicated.”
“You say you loved him?”
“Enough to have his child.”
“And he loved you.”
Jet thought about it. “In his own way. He was hard to read. Made a career out of being inscrutable.”
“He obviously must have thought you were something special if he was willing to risk everything he’d built for you.”
“I suppose so.”
“What was he like?”
Jet gave a rough laugh. “God. Where do I start? He was…wickedly smart. One in a hundred million. And honorable, at least to his personal code. But also ruthless when he had to be. And cynical. A master chess player using human pawns, I guess you could say. He was the best at what he did. I’ve never seen anything like it. He had a gift.” Jet walked in silence for several beats. “As a man, he was everything you could want. But there was a part of him at his core that you could never get to, that he never allowed anyone to see. I got glimpses of it at times, but I would have loved a lifetime with him to really understand him.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
Jet’s emerald eyes flashed in the darkness and a smile tugged at her mouth. “Hannah. I see a lot of David in her. The good parts of him. She’s…exceptional in so many ways.”
“I’d love to meet her.” Salma thought for a moment. “It must have been difficult leaving her to do this.”
Jet looked away. “One of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make.”
Salma touched Jet lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
Jet waved off the gesture. “Let’s get you to safety. Then you can thank me. We’re still a long way away.”
“Not if we can find something to hot-wire.”
“A lot has to go right for that to happen. So far, not a great bet. And with the sun coming up, we’re going to have to start looking around for somewhere to lie low until dark again. We’re asking for it alone out here during the day, even armed to the teeth.”
“I still know my way around a gun.”
“No doubt. But if a caravan of slavers spots us, that won’t matter. Besides, my job’s to get you out of here in one piece, not wage a small war. Which means we keep our heads down and wait out the heat of the day somewhere we won’t melt. We’ve only got three liters of water between the two of us. That’s not going to last long once it’s hot out.”
“You’re right, of course. I just want this to be over.”
Jet nodded. “I don’t blame you. But we also need to give HQ time to arrange for an extraction. Didn’t sound promising when I spoke with the local conduit.”
Salma absorbed the news, her expression unreadable, and then sighed. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. We’ll do better in one of the orchards than on the sand once dawn breaks.”
Chapter 26
Tariq’s lead truck rolled to a stop at the abandoned pickup in the middle of the road, and Tariq stepped down and walked to where Abdu lay bloating from the increasing heat as the sun rose, his skin already blackening and mottled. He stepped back from the corpse and regarded the small army of ants circumnavigating the dead man’s neck and shook his head.
Amel, one of Tariq’s lieutenants, approached and glowered at the scene. Tariq moved to where Mahmoud lay. “Looks like they got out of the truck and someone ambushed them. The windshield’s intact, and so is the cabin.”
Amel pointed to the flattened rear tire. “There’s what did it. See the bullet hole in the sidewall? It’s shredded, but you can just make it out.”
Tariq nodded. “Picture it. They waited there, by the garbage. Saw a vehicle, shot out its tire, and then there was a firefight once our men were in the open. They shot them and took the woman.”
“And their weapons,” Amel said, and then his frown deepened. “Only…no. Look,” he said, pointing to Mahmoud’s AK lying a meter from him. “That’s strange. Why would anyone leave a perfectly good rifle behind?”
Tariq walked to where a plastic water bottle lay by the shoulder and knelt to pick it up. He sniffed and slowly rose to look to Amel. “Smells like gasoli
ne.”
Six more men joined them, and Tariq looked to Amel. “We need to find the woman. Get the Bedouin here and see what he makes of the scene. Maybe his eyes will see something we don’t.”
Amel retraced his steps to one of the pickup trucks and returned moments later with a short, wiry man with skin the color of saddle leather, draped in a traditional Bedouin robe and headdress.
“Faiz, they took the woman. We need her back. Do your best and see if there’s anything that can tell us where to look.”
The Bedouin took in the two dead men without expression, and then his eyes slowly surveyed the surroundings before settling on the rubble pile. He walked over to it and spent several minutes walking around the debris, and then made his way back to Tariq, pausing to kneel and scoop up several spent shell casings before he stopped by the truck. He held up a cartridge. Tariq took it from him and examined it.
“I’ve never seen bullets that small,” Faiz said. “Not for anything but hunting rabbits or birds.”
Tariq’s eyes narrowed as he held the shell casing out to Amel. “I have. And they aren’t for hunting. There’s only one weapon that uses this round that I know of, and it’s the Heckler and Koch MP7. It’s a commando weapon. Small, lightweight, and deadly. There are many in Iraq and Afghanistan, from the cowardly coalition forces dropping them when they retreat in failure.”
Amel took the casing. “You know all that from a bullet?”
“I spent enough time in Germany before they imprisoned me to be more than passingly familiar with the weapon.”
Amel’s forehead creased and he tossed the shell aside. “It would be next to impossible to find ammunition for this weapon here.”
“Agreed,” Tariq said. “Which means this isn’t the work of some militia or robbers. Whoever used it brought it here, along with the ammunition. Which tells me that there’s more at play than a simple robbery.”
“You think…?”
Tariq looked to Faiz. “What else did you find?”
“There are motorcycle tracks by the debris pile.”
“How many?”
“Looks like only one.”
Sahara Page 14