They were going to have to tell the other Team Guys and their families.
Rory didn’t like it one bit there were so many moving parts and jurisdictional territories between the FBI, LAPD, NYPD, Office of Naval Intelligence and the SOC community.
“I sure hate this alphabet soup we got here, Kyle. Sounds like a cluster fuck to me. Only difference is, it’s here in the U.S. where our families live, where innocents are.”
“Roger that, Rory. But doesn’t it remind you of some place?”
It did. It reminded him of Afghanistan.
Chapter 24
‡
Moustafa checked the envelope of cash the young blond man gave him. It was larger than his weekly sum. He hadn’t seen this messenger before, and the man was definitely not a Muslim nor of Middle Eastern descent.
“Who are you?” he asked, distrustful of the nervous man in tweed slacks, a yellow V-necked sweater over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like he could have been a young attorney in Boston or some Ivy League college. Not that he knew anyone like that.
“Just a guy delivering an envelope.” The man didn’t make eye contact. His hands fidgeted with his keys and some coins in his pocket, annoying Moustafa.
“Stop that stupid noise,” Moustafa demanded, and spat. The man jerked, shooting him a worried look as if he expected to be hit. His hands came out of his pockets, but he kept rubbing his fingers together.
“Instructions?” Moustafa asked.
The man shrugged. “I—I—I just was told to find you here and deliver this envelope. I don’t know about anything else.”
The look he gave Moustafa was pitiful. His handler had something on him. The man’s car was parked in the next block, and there were two other young men in the seats, waiting. One of them was taking pictures of their meeting.
“What are the pictures for?” he asked as he pointed to the man’s car.
“Wha?” The American whipped around and squinted, tilting his head. “I didn’t know they were—”
“Shut up. Tell him I need to talk in person. I have a new development.”
“Okay. Look. I don’t know if I’ll be seeing him again. I’m just doing this one errand and then—” he turned to look at the occupants in his car. One of them had taken the spot behind the wheel and that distracted him. He groaned. Moustafa knew how it felt. The handler was good at giving out orders and letting everyone around him dangle, like a puppet master.
“Trust me, you’ll see him again. Until then, I doubt you’ll be able to think about anything else. And you’ll see him in your dreams, too.”
He made a dismissive wave of his hand. At first, the man didn’t understand.
“Go. Go report you did your job. God is good.”
“I hope so,” the man said with a bit of a smirk. He turned away and Moustafa identified him as certainly gay from the way he walked.
“Infidels!” he muttered under his breath.
Derek nearly shit in his pants as they drove up to the terminal building. He didn’t put it together until they were already inside the locked gate. He hadn’t been blindfolded and put in the trunk like he was when they drove him out. He’d heard the planes overhead though. He’d been hearing the planes from inside the locked animal cage he’d been kept in for the last three days. He felt as nervous and trapped as the exotic big cat that must have occupied the cage before him, even though he’d been fed and allowed to shower and shave, under guard. He could hear Corrigan’s muffled voice and what he thought sounded like beatings in a room nearby.
They’d stripped him of his cell, his beeper, and computer. They’d added them to all of Corrigan’s stuff, covering an old metal desktop, spread out like ammunition for a weapon of some kind. Idle electronic pieces that were of no use to them now.
One little thing perhaps they didn’t know. Corrigan had installed a tracking device in his phone, in his computer and in the sole of his shoes. The shoes had been removed, but hopefully the devices would still work. Derek didn’t know who had access to those devices, and if Tariq was involved in procuring them, then they were all destroyed by now.
They’d threatened to kill Corrigan if Derek didn’t cooperate. He believed them when they said both of them would be released after Derek delivered the cash to the young Middle Eastern man in the coffee shop.
But any sense of reassurance he’d had evaporated today, since they’d allowed him to see the gate, the hangar with the Saudi Air logo, a palm tree and the crescent sun with the blue background. The guard at the gate spoke in Arabic to the two men in the front, barely looking at him, as if his life were inconsequential. They were pointing to the odometer and other parts of the little Passat he’d loved. This was his car. They were fawning over it like a loose woman. His car. The car he was being held captive in. The one they weren’t letting him drive.
And as he turned around and watched the gate lock behind him, hearing the loud ka-thunk of the metal, that’s when it hit him. He’d not be leaving this compound. At least, not alive.
He’d been used as a mouthpiece, a courier, and now that the goods had been delivered, what use was he?
He’d certainly proven not to be much help to Corrigan. He’d been afraid to try to run away and let the authorities know what was going on for fear of being punished, or worse, perhaps shot. He made a mental note that if he ever made it out alive, he’d learn not to be so trusting, to ask more questions, and be more concerned for his own safety. Corrigan was an asshole to everyone else, but he’d been nice to Derek, promised Derek he’d take care of him, and so for the past four years Derek had been his extra set of eyes, arms, and legs to do his bidding. And just look where that landed him today.
Corrigan’s bidding was nothing like what he’d been asked to do today. He liked Tariq, although he had never trusted him. Corrigan kept them apart, but he’d met the man several times in the office and Tariq had always bowed and smiled that fake smile that gave him the chills. He was surprised Corrigan trusted him as much as he did. But then, Derek wasn’t the ruthless cutthroat either of these men was. How would he ever know?
He just couldn’t believe the man would actually hurt Corrigan. Maybe he’d scare him, but hurt him? That seemed so unnecessary. Maybe it was done to scare Derek into submission, convince him they’d let everyone go. Tariq had told him he was just after the money. Derek had believed him.
Now he knew what folly that was. Another gross miscalculation.
He found himself shuffling as they walked the short distance to the metal door of the cold building. He was pushed and he nearly stumbled onto the pavement, but at the last minute got his balance. The door slammed like a cannon shot behind him causing him to jump.
They let him see Corrigan, stored in another large cage they’d opened for their reunion. Corrigan was in bad shape. With his legs lashed to the chair, his dirty feet showing cuts and black smudges from the warehouse floor, he saw how red his toes looked, and how swollen his feet and ankles appeared. Sitting in the same position for several days with his bones beginning to heal wasn’t a very good thing either. Corrigan needed to lie down and rest, and probably needed his meds. If his boss got an infection, or a heart attack, it could be all over.
Derek wished he could somehow get a message to the SEALs or someone who could help.
Corrigan looked up at him with a sad expression, his blue eyes still blue but barely visible between the purple and black bruises he wore like a mask. A portion of his left cheek was sticking out at an odd angle, and Derek realized he’d been hit with something hard and the arch just below his eye was broken. They were intensifying the mistreatment.
He made eye contact with his boss and turned around to deliver his protest, but was hit on the side of the head with something wooden, and blackness overtook him just as he hit the ground. He felt one of his teeth crack as his lip split when it slammed into the dirty concrete floor. He heard the cage door slam shut.
Then nothing.
Chapter 25
‡
Kyle’s phone rang before he could call Christy. It was Coop. Kyle left it on the console so Rory could hear.
“Give me some good news, Coop.”
“Got ’em.”
“Holy shit, seriously? Where is he?”
“You’re gonna love this. Close, as it turns out, Lindbergh Field. At least his phone is there.”
“Could be stored in a locker there.”
“Nope, not from the map I checked out. Cargo warehouse, Saudi Air.”
“Fuckin’ knew it, man,” Rory said. “That’s the logo I saw, the palm tree. That’s second confirmation, then.”
“Good work, Coop. Meet me at the Scupper in a half hour. I’ll need a few things at Fredo’s, so ask him to bring my black bag and a full box, okay? We’re stopping by Rory’s. We’ll be right there.” Fredo had a metal box welded to the underside of his green 4-door beater truck, filled with enough explosives and guns to start a small war. They didn’t always have it filled with all their toys, but this was the message to Fredo to do so.
They proceeded to Rory’s. Once inside, Rory asked Kyle to pull up the carpet in his closet and open the floor safe. He verified nothing had been touched. With Kyle’s help, they grabbed a black duty bag still hanging in the closet and loaded his H&K MP5 from his floor cache, added some clips and retrieved his night vision goggles, zip ties, binding cord and some small explosive devices among other accessories, then zipped up the bag, and they were ready to leave within seconds. Kyle grabbed it from him without objection and the two of them made it back to the Hummer.
Rory knew the responsibility of the mission was weighing on Kyle’s mind.
“We’re gonna have to tell the families, right, Kyle?”
“Just not sure I can. Let’s see what the intel is first.”
Cooper was already sitting at one of the back tables, a map of the airport spread out. Fredo and Brady were studying it. T.J. pointed to an employee parking area nearby. “I’ve been there. There’s a big chain-link fence and a guard just outside the lot. We’ll have to cut our way through here, closest to the two buildings.”
Kyle agreed. “Anything from the coordinates, Coop?”
“I think it’s this one.” He pointed to the smaller of the two buildings in the cargo facility.
“Okay, I’m calling Collins,” Kyle said. Rory knew there was a risk they could be asked to stand down, and he was fairly sure Kyle would elect to disobey that command. “Fredo, you and Cooper make your lists. I wanna know we got everything before we head over there.”
Rory watched Kyle leave a message, sigh, and come back to the table.
“So, since I’ve not gotten instructions to the contrary, we’re going to go over and take a look.”
The team headed over in three vehicles, parking parallel to the fencing, lined up in a row, so the breach of the perimeter wouldn’t be seen from the guard station. Rory wondered if they’d have cameras or monitors on the fencing, but didn’t see anything. He did see monitors on the warehouses, so he noted their approach would be watched and pointed this out to Kyle.
On Kyle’s mark, Rory made a five-foot-square hole in the fence as Coop and Fredo stood guard. There was a time delay on the parking lot lighting, since dusk had fully descended on them but the sensors hadn’t picked up.
It was a long expanse between the fence and the edge of the warehouses, without any cover. If the lights came on in the middle of their trip, they’d be sitting ducks. He touched Kyle’s arm.
“I can hit the guard shack from inside, Kyle, but not sure there’s enough time to get to the hostages. I say we take them out first. Those lights are coming on any second now.”
“I agree,” Fredo added.
“Okay. But just restrain in place. Unless they draw their weapons.”
“Roger that.” Rory looked at Fredo, who nodded. “Be right back.”
He and Fredo loaded their pockets with some flares and a couple of explosive charges. Each had their sidearms, but their hands were free. They walked like a couple of drunken buddies toward the guard shack.
They were presented with the barrel of an AK-47 just as they stepped up to the concrete platform at the shack. Rory let the pin out of a small flash smoke bomb and tossed it behind him near a metal storage locker outside the gate.
Before the guard could get the answer he was seeking, the flash pulled his concentration for just a second, enough time for Rory to disarm him and send the man to the ground with the satisfying crack of a broken shoulder. Fredo had the other guard’s radio, and smashed it under the heel of his boot. Fredo easily kicked the second guard in the jaw, sending him unconscious to the ground. The first guard let out a scream, but Rory quickly covered his mouth with duct tape, bound his hands in front, jerking his arms, causing the man to pass out. They slipped both prisoners into the shack, closed the door and secured the gate closed as well, successfully cutting off any rescue vehicles.
Fredo ran the hundred yards back to Kyle and the others, with Rory hobbling behind, trying to catch up.
“Nice work,” Kyle said.
Coop was looking at the buildings with his night vision goggles. “I say we get these on, gents.”
“Good idea, but watch when those lights come on,” Kyle added.
Fredo and Rory hoisted their heavy bags, as everyone else geared up. At the last minute, Fredo grabbed Rory’s bag and slung it over his powerful shoulder. Under the cover of darkness, they silently skirted the circle of lights from the warehouses. Staying in the shadows, they separated into two groups as they hit the perimeter of the metal buildings from both sides. Fredo tried the door and found it unlocked, which was a godsend. He stepped back.
They heard the crackle and message back from Coop. “Rear door locked. No windows.”
Kyle motioned for Fredo to go get on that door, and the Mexican SEAL took off running.
“We go when they breach,” Kyle whispered.
They heard the countdown, ‘five, four, three, two, one,’ and then the boom. Kyle, Rory, and T.J. pushed through the door, finding a large two-story storage facility filled with boxes and crates stacked in rows, giving excellent cover. They could hear the shout of voices as the rear team was engaging whoever responded to the explosive device.
Rory saw an empty chair outside a lit open doorway to a partitioned area that looked like it contained large cages. He guessed if Corrigan were there, he’d be watched and not left alone. He pointed to the area and Kyle nodded. Kyle ordered T.J. to stand behind and watch the front door, while he and Rory headed toward the cages. A quick visual to the catwalk above showed that it was empty with no offices or further places for a guard to hide.
The scuffle taking place on the other side of the crates stopped all of a sudden. As they reached the doorway, they saw the hand signal and knew the guards were immobilized.
Kyle was going to lead, but Rory pulled him back. “I go.” His breathing was regular, his resolve pure steel.
Kyle nodded as Rory pushed past him and poked his head quickly into the hallway. A burst of automatic fire nearly caught him cheek level. One spray took out the light overhead. He’d heard two weapons. He retrieved the flash bombs from his vest pocket and rolled two down the hallway and to the left. Then he tossed one to the right.
He pulled down his mask and night vision goggles and was into the hallway. Another blast came around the corner and he guessed Fredo and his group had focused on the same area. He spread himself against the bars of the cages as the spray of rounds missed him. The guards were coughing.
The next sound of automatic fire chilled him to the bone. He could hear the ricocheting of metal on metal and knew one of the guards had attempted to shoot something in one of the cages. He saw the heat signature and took out one guard, the other lying on the floor. Inside the cage he found two heat signals, neither one moving.
His heart was pounding in his chest. There were two prisoners, yet only one was coughing, and that was faint and weak. He explo
ded the lock while Kyle and the rest of the team slipped by him. They removed the two bodies, one appearing to be tied to a chair, probably Corrigan. He tried to catch up but was favoring his hip, and now was running with a definite limp he hadn’t noticed before. He could smell feces and the indescribable scent of putrid flesh as he chased behind to the open warehouse away from the smoke they’d laid down. He hoped to God that they weren’t too late.
In the clear, he removed his goggles and saw that it was indeed Corrigan. He felt the wonderful sense of relief when the bindings were removed from the older man and he heard him groan. A dirty hand gripped his forearm. “Rory,” Corrigan whispered.
“Got you, sir. Hang on.”
Coop was checking out the other prisoner, Derek, a pale shade of his former self. Derek’s head wound looked like part of his skull had collapsed from a blow. Coop shook his head. “He’s in bad shape. Very little pulse.” Coop had an I.V. in the man’s arm within seconds, handing the plastic bag to Brady, while he assisted T.J.’s assessment of Corrigan.
Corrigan was mumbling. T.J. was asking him about what he took for his heart, and Rory could see that was what they were focused on first. They gave him something, and he went limp. The team carried the two patients, now both unconscious, through to the outside, scooted across the yard and back through the fencing material. They could hear the roar of other vehicles coming and an alarm bell going off on the other side of the warehouse.
Quickly they stowed the patients, Derek in T.J.’s and Corrigan in Kyle’s Hummer. Rory took up shotgun position in Kyle’s, his weapon turned on anything that came their way. With Kyle in the lead, the three vehicles made it to the center of the parking lot and near the entrance on the other side before a Jeep blocking the opening stopped them. Kyle revved his motor and rammed the Jeep. At the last minute, the two occupants dove for cover without discharging their weapons. The bulk of the damage was to Kyle’s Hummer, but T.J.’s also got part of the Jeep wheel well and bumper caught on his left side. Coop and Brady missed the Jeep and the fencing all together.
SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) Page 12