Tactical Error [Black Ops Brotherhood 4] (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 26
Never again, sweetheart. You’re getting back as much as you give.
Irene stood and adjusted the covers around James as he slept. He’d been so restless the last twenty-four hours. It was good to see him sleep comfortably. She leaned forward and sent up another prayer of gratitude as she kissed him gently.
“I love you, James.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Consulate General of the Russian Federation
Secure Situation Room
Paris, France
March 15, 2009/1832 Zulu
Viktor Zaytsev sat across the table from Nayyaf Bakri. This man was a walking disaster. To say Viktor was irritated was putting it mildly. Bakri had managed to get Azad Jobrani almost killed. The Iranians were angry. They were threatening retaliation in Afghanistan and Iraq against the American and Coalition special operations forces there.
Iran wanted to increase the number of soldiers they were supplying various terrorist factions in the region. They also wanted to start employing the biological agent that Jobrani and Sergei had been perfecting. Viktor knew Russia had to keep the Iranians under control. The Israelis would get involved and it would explode the entire region. Tensions between the two were high. Russia was brokering a deal to supply Israel with oil for the next fifty years and Russia needed to keep Iran under control, for now.
That wasn’t the worst of it. Bakri had led a snatch-and-grab team right to Sergei. They not only managed to capture Sergei, but his entire family who were vacationing in Paris at the time. Viktor had no idea where they had taken the entire Vaslliev family. He couldn’t do anything to help the Vasllievs. Sergei had been working on an illegal project. If any nonclandestine government agency got word of the project, Russia would be found in violation of numerous treaties that it had made to end biological warfare with the United States and other countries. It would be a diplomatic disaster.
“What happened?” Viktor growled at Bakri.
“You didn’t supply enough security and Katrina was obsessed with locating her son rather than the mission. She ruined years of planning and work,” Bakri charged.
“Katrina and Sergei were some of our best agents. If you had not been in such a hurry to distribute this pathogen, none of this would have happened!” Viktor yelled.
“If they were your best then the mighty bear has grown fat and lazy. I will look elsewhere for assistance,” Bakri snapped.
“Bakri, if you are looking to the Iranians to help you, you had better use caution. They are crazy like you. You will have the entire world in chaos. I am warning you now. I will kill you if you make a move without consulting me. We will regroup and start again. I have the information I need to recreate Sergei’s work,” Viktor said.
“Do not threaten me!” Bakri growled. “We will regroup and start again. I will be in touch,” he said, standing to leave.
“I am serious, Nayyaf. I will kill you. Do not make a move without consulting me,” Viktor warned.
Viktor watched as Bakri left the room. He picked up the phone sitting on the table. It was a secure line to Moscow. The president would be angry. What a mess. He had warned the president. This project had been a bad idea. If the Iranians hadn’t stumbled onto the lab in Afghanistan, none of this would be happening right now. While Russia had agreed to the plan of waging biological warfare on the US, they needed Israel. And needed to keep Iran from all-out war with Israel. Iran had gotten in touch with Bakri and he had requested a meeting with the president.
The Russians were encouraging the destabilization of the Middle East. Their goals were no longer the spread of communism. It was money. The more unstable the Middle East the higher oil prices rose. Russia was turning into a reliable source of the precious commodity because of its stability. Once the Middle East proved unreliable, Russia could have the world by the throat with high energy prices. The president had agreed to help Bakri because it meant further casualties for the United States in the region. They needed to rein in Bakri before he got to the Iranians.
“Get me the president. This is Minister Zaytsev,” Viktor barked into the phone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Office of US Representative Eric Wilson
Reston, Virginia
March 17, 2009/1632 Zulu
Congressman Wilson stepped into the makeshift press room in his district office outside of Reston, Virginia. The shouts from the press corps began before he was able to utter a syllable. He got to the podium and held up his hands for silence. The room went quiet except for the high-pitch whine of machinery and flashing cameras.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I have a brief statement after which I will not be taking any questions regarding this matter. Three days ago, while I was on a diplomatic mission to Afghanistan, my wife, Kathy, suffered a complete mental breakdown while doing humanitarian work with Iraqi refugees in France. She was on a mission with the UN as an American Ambassador visiting these refugees in the Muslim Quarter outside of Paris. As you know, less than a year ago we lost our son, a decorated Navy SEAL in a tragic accident. The stress of her humanitarian work, along with the grief she suffered as a result of the death of our son, has caused her to become ill. My wife has been committed to the best possible treatment I can find at an undisclosed location until she’s recovered. I love my wife, and I am dedicated to her as a husband and a friend. My daughter, who is a naval officer aboard the USS George Washington serving in the Mediterranean Sea in support of Operation Enduring Freedom, has been notified. The captain of the ship will not tolerate any interruption of his mission from the press corps that’s accompanying them at this time. She, too, is a highly decorated naval officer. Please respect her as a military member doing her job. This is a very challenging time for my family, and we are working as a family to recover from tragedy, grief, and illness. I ask that, during this difficult time for our family, you please respect our privacy. Thank you,” Congressman Wilson concluded.
“Congressman! What do you know about a US covert operation reported by Le Monde?
“Congressman! Is it true your wife is being held by…”
Reporters were shouting a barrage of questions as Eric Wilson walked away from the bank of microphones. The shouts from the press corps, and all the flashing lights were a blur as he went back to his office and shut the door. His staff and security would take care of ushering the press away from the building. This had been the longest twenty-four hours since Rafe had died. He still needed to tell his daughter what was happening with her mother. Eric hated the idea that Cheryl would be hearing this from her captain and Fox News instead of from him. He was still waiting to hear an explanation himself. He sat behind his massive desk and looked at the man sitting across from him.
“What the hell happened in Paris?” Eric demanded.
“Get comfortable, and you might want to have a drink while you listen. This is going to rock your world, Eric,” Admiral Campbell said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pashtun Village
Kush, Afghanistan
78 km from the Khyber Pass near Pakistan
April 17, 2009/1233 Zulu
One month later
Izzy stretched and yawned as she rolled out of her warm bed. She showered quickly and dressed. She stepped into the small clinic that had been very busy since nearby villagers had gotten used to it being available. She did her rounds, saw patients, and did her charting. She was ordering supplies when Kashi walked into her tiny office.
“Can I buy you a cup of tea?” Kashi asked.
Izzy smiled as she logged off her computer. She grabbed her jacket and walked out with Kashi to Tashza’s house. She loved spending time with Kashi. He was such an intelligent man. They didn’t see eye to eye on the whole war thing, but their discussions were stimulating and always ended with them agreeing to disagree.
“You know, this is as close to a date as you get in these parts,” Kashi said as they walked through the dry, dusty street.
“Are we dating, Kashi?” Iz
zy asked.
“I would if my wife would let me,” Kashi quipped as they entered Tashza’s house.
Izzy sat down in the opulent sitting area of the house. She sat on the floor and took the cup of tea Kashi offered. She enjoyed teatime with Kashi because it was the most civilized thing she did all day. She looked forward to the routine that would often include lively discussion and a wicked game of backgammon. Kashi broke out the game board as she popped a small scone in her mouth.
“Kashi, where on earth did you ever find scones here?” Izzy asked.
“I make them, love. You can’t find a decent scone until you get to Europe,” Kashi said, handing Izzy the cup with the dice.
“Is Tashza still in Jalalabad?” Izzy asked.
“I believe he returns tomorrow. Do you miss him?” Kashi teased as he set his pieces on the board.
“Sort of, he reminds me of my dad. Work, family, repeat,” Izzy said.
Kashi chuckled. “I guess we’re sort of mundane around here.” He took a sip of his tea.
“How’s the mining exploration going?” Izzy asked as she threw the dice to start the game.
“Slow, I can’t get enough men to help me. They’re all bloody afraid of the caves and the people who haunt them. I did find a pretty good prospect not far from here. I’ll send info to the company and let them make the decision,” Kashi said as she moved her pieces.
Kashi took his turn. They started discussing politics and getting into their usual arguments when a blast interrupted their game. It had been some time since raiders or rebels had come to this part of the valley. They rushed to the door when it was suddenly kicked open. Two men with guns demanded they get down in Arabic. That was odd. The raiders spoke Pashtun. Not Arabic.
Kashi hesitated and one of the men struck him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Izzy rushed to him and was stopped before she could get to him. An arm encircled her waist and pulled her away. He roughly turned her around and demanded she get on her knees. Izzy complied. The man lifted her chin. Izzy met his masked face with defiance and hostility. She wanted to push his hand away as he started lightly running his finger over her cheek. He said something Izzy didn’t understand. It was neither Pashtun nor Arabic.
One of the men searched the house and gathered all the loot he could in a couple of bags. Jewels, silver, gold, clothing, and guns were all being plundered from Tashza’s house. When he returned he threw a garment at her and demanded she put it on. She looked at the garment and unfolded it. It was a burqa.
Izzy had made up her mind before coming to Afghanistan there would be no way in hell she would wear a burqa. She hated the symbolism of the garment and the oppression it stood for. Even though many women in the region didn’t seem to mind wearing it for their husbands, she hated it. Tashza’s wives had tried to explain the significance of hijab, or modesty, to her many times. She respected their decision to wear it and respect tradition. But this wasn’t her culture. It was theirs.
“Put it on, woman!” the man harshly ordered in Arabic.
“No,” Izzy said, throwing it down.
The man reared back and hit Izzy, knocking her from her kneeling position. She was temporarily dazed from the blow. From her position on the floor Izzy could see Kashi was coming around. One of the men put a gun to Kashi’s head and looked at her. The other lifted her by the hair and pulled her back up to her kneeling position in front of him.
“Put it on, woman, or your man will die,” the man standing before her said.
Izzy looked at the man and looked at Kashi. She could see a slight trickle of blood roll down his forehead. She knew these men were not fooling. They’d kill Kashi if she didn’t do exactly what they asked. She lifted the garment and slid it over her body. The weight of the burqa was almost unbearable. Instantly her field of vision was limited. Izzy could smell the heavy perfume that one of Tashza’s wives used. It was soaked into the garment and was suffocating her. Izzy felt subjugated and imprisoned in the simple garment. The burqa was like an iron maiden. The significance of what had just happened to her life slammed her as the burqa pooled on the floor around her.
“Get up,” the man said to her. Izzy stood. “You are a fine prize. I may keep you for myself,” the man whispered to her as he led her out of the house.
* * * *
Kashi had fallen so the raiders wouldn’t see his weapon. He prayed that Izzy wouldn’t dig in her heels and force the issue with them. These bloody bastards were pillaging. Izzy, along with all the women they could gather, would be sold as slaves. Hopefully none of them would be raped before he could get them back.
As he heard the retreating footsteps he hoped Izzy wouldn’t fight them. Don’t fight. Do what they say. Keep the bloody thing on and go. He recalled seeing Izzy slipping on the burqa and instantly his heart went out to her. He saw and sensed her entire demeanor change. Kashi’s heart had stopped when he heard the men start to converse in Farsi. They were from Iran, not from Pakistan or Afghanistan. What the hell is this? Fucking Iranians here in the valley? Kashi needed to get some help and fast. Mostly he needed Isabel to talk to the SEALs that were looking for a very deadly pathogen somewhere close by. Iranians in the valley meant one thing. MI-6 and the SEALs were close, very close, to what they were searching for.
Kashi raced to his vehicle as soon as the raiders left the village. He sped along the dirt road to nearby Camp ECHO. As he drove, it seemed to him as if he were moving in slow motion. He couldn’t let the raiders get too far because Kush was near the Pakistani border. In a few hours, they could easily slip over the border and be gone forever. He started breathing as he saw the camp come into view.
“Hey, Kashi! What’s the rush?” the young marine at the gate said as Kashi pulled up. “Hey, man, you’re bleeding. Let me call…”
“Fuck it! Raiders in the village! I need to get to the command center. Now!”
Kashi was allowed through and fishtailed his vehicle as he slammed on the breaks in front of the command center. He fled the vehicle and ran into Alex and Shaq as he hurried to the entrance.
“Where’s the fucking fire, Kashi? You almost took us both out!” Shaq cried.
“Where’s Dan?” Kashi demanded.
“He was briefing Rock when I left him about ten minutes ago,” Alex said, nodding toward the command center.
“Come with me, both of you,” Kashi ordered.
Kashi found Lieutenant Dan Gamez sitting at his desk banging out something on a keyboard.
“Dan, Kush just had a bunch of raiders come through. They took some of the women from the village.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do about that, Kashi?” Dan asked cautiously.
“One of them was the bloody doctor that knows about the pathogen. You know the one you were supposed to talk with but haven’t gotten around to it yet,” Kashi snapped.
“Oh shit!” Alex said.
“Shaq get a team mustered. We’ve got to find that doctor,” Dan ordered.
Chapter Twenty-Six
BRAVO-ZULU Security
Classroom Number 3
Austin, Texas
June 15, 2009/1159 Zulu
Two months later
Irene thought she’d just entered a class of unruly kindergarteners. The men were loudly laughing and crudely insulting one another. She walked to the front of the classroom, set her binder on the podium, and opened it to the page she needed. The class seemed to quiet somewhat. It was her first day teaching in some years. She waited and looked around at the men.
“Would you please take your seats and open your workbooks to page three,” Irene instructed formally.
“Page three? What happened to one and two?” a young man in the front row asked.
“That would be the title page and the table of contents. If you wish to go over it, I can do that later,” Irene answered. “Gentlemen, please, we only have four hours to cover the material you need for your certificate, and it’ll take all four hours to do this class,” Irene said.
“The company has a few required classes with some of the contracts we hold. Before we can send you out, you must fulfill the training requirements they have. Today’s course is Sensitivity Training. Now this course covers—”
“I can be real sensitive, if you show me some nice poontang,” one of the young men quipped.
“Mr. Rodriguez. Pick up your things and leave my classroom,” Irene said to the young man who was receiving all sorts of accolades for his comment.
“Huh?” Rodriguez asked with a smile.
“I said pick up your things and leave my classroom. I don’t have time to deal with someone who will be distracting the rest of the class. I also won’t tolerate disrespect and crudity in my classes.” James and Mick walked in silently and stood at the back of the room. James had told her he would come and check on her. “Get out,” Irene ordered.
“Are you serious?” the young man asked.
“Yes, sir, I am,” Irene said. The class fell into shocked silence. “Go, right now.”
“I–I–I need this course for my–my next duty assignment at the state capital,” Rodriguez stuttered.