Cold Snap
Page 37
"Fun?" Ahmad said with disbelief.
"Why do you suddenly doubt us?" Ari asked.
Lawson shifted his cane to his prosthetic hand and pressed a finger against his jaw. It helped him with the mechanics of speaking.
"Ever since I met you, a very short time ago, I've been shot at and bombed. Worse, I've been subjected to massive lying. Right now, I'm sitting in a van with men I don't know and who aren't who they say they are. I don't have my men with me to pull me out of the fire. And I'm not feeling particularly spry at the moment. I wish Ben would show up. At least he looks and sounds legit."
"You mean 'American'?" Ahmad protested. "Like I wasn't born and raised in Chicago?"
"Americans don't look or sound the way they used to." Lawson winced and lowered his hand from his jaw. "I don't feel like talking, anymore."
"You know..." Ahmad began.
"Turn off the engine," Ari interrupted. "Save your gas. We don't know if this is the end of our journey."
Abu Jasim turned the ignition off.
"Yes, Ahmad?"
"I was just going to tell you about this story I read, 'Rosetta World'. You know the Rosetta Stone? It was found in Egypt."
"By one of Napoleon's engineers," Lawson nodded. "What about it?"
"You know how it was inscribed with different languages all saying the same thing? That's how they figured out what the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics were saying."
"Not all of it has been translated."
"No, but in the story I'm talking about, the whole world is a Rosetta Stone placed here by aliens. The point is that everything around us is a form of language and we get all confused and depressed when we can't read it. But, you know, given time..."
"Very nice," said Ari.
Lawson looked away.
"Listen..." Abu Jasim cracked his door open. Cold air shot into the back. Lawson pulled up his coat collar. He did not complain. Like the others, he listened to the excited baying of dogs.
"We got to deal with wolfpacks, too?" he groused.
There was a shout. Then a gunshot. The barking grew more frantic.
Ari took out his phone. "Ben, we can't wait any longer. Be cautious in your approach. There are guns and dogs exploding."
"Exploding dogs—?"
Ari hung up and pulled open the panel door.
"That magical device in your hand can also call the police," Lawson observed.
"Right on," said Ahmad.
"You may both stay here, if you wish."
"Oh, man," said Ahmad, getting out. Ari dropped to the dirt road and glanced at him.
"Where is your weapon?"
"I've got a killer mouth. That's what my history professor says."
Ari thrust a gun into his hands.
"Oh, man..."
Lawson planted his leg on the ground then, holding on to the door edge, deftly swung around and planted the other foot.
"You should be less cold than the rest of us," Ari said.
"Why's that?"
"You have less to be cold with."
"You'd better not let me walk behind you."
"I was thinking that, myself," said Ari. "But I think Abu Jasim and I should lead the way."
Abu Jasim hefted his MGL.
"Truly, it is Saddam," Ari snorted.
The field was edged by winter-weary bushes, providing them with cover as they moved down the curving road. They soon came to the blue cargo van, sitting quietly in the middle of the lane. The engine was not running. Abu Jasim trained the grenade launcher on the back door. Ari shifted from side to side and saw no one watching him in the side mirrors. Moving as silently as he could in his bulky coat, he went up to the van. He glanced back at Abu Jasim and was displeased by the arrangement. He made a dismissive gesture. Frowning, Abu Jasim slung the launcher over his shoulder and took out a pistol. Ari nodded, then pulled open the door.
Gail Prescott lay on the floor, the side of her head matted with dark goo. There was no one else inside.
Ahmad came up, looked inside, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Lawson came up and stared at her.
"Dead?" he whispered.
Ari reached forward and touched the pale skin of her throat. He nodded.
"Still very warm, though." He shook his head, leaned forward, and whispered into the unhearing ear: "You did it to yourself."
"Yeah, rub it in," Lawson said.
"Merely quoting a French proverb."
They circled around the van. Abu Jasim pointed. They could just make out Bruce Turner's canopied pickup truck peeking out from the hedges. The driver of the cargo van had stopped here when he spotted it.
They moved forward as fast as they dared. Ahmad crowded up behind his uncle, who gave him a smack and pointed away. Spread out, idiot!
The barking grew louder, though it was still muffled. Abu Jasim approached the passenger side and peered in. He leapt back when a shadow more fang than dog slammed against the window, leaving a bubbling slick of saliva on the glass. The pickup truck began to rock as the dogs inside bounded frantically between the walls of the canopy.
Ari made a show of sniffing and Abu Jasim nodded. A vague smell, almost like ammonia. He went around to the driver side and saw the bullet hole in the glass. When he saw Bruce Turner slumped over the wheel he flashed back to Detective Carrington in the forest. The hole in Turner's temple told Ari that he had been distracted by someone in front of the van while the killer snuck up from the side.
Lawson came around the truck and held up his cell phone.
"Cops?" he whispered.
Ari frowned and shook his head.
"Who is he?" asked Ahmad, gaping through the windshield.
"Later. Shhhh..."
He wanted to call Ben, but now he could see the small clapboard house hidden behind a row of evergreens and dared not speak or whisper. He gave Lawson a questioning look. The approach would require the greatest stealth, agility, and sudden spurts of movement. The insurance man could easily be caught flatfooted in the open. He nodded reluctantly and pointed at the pickup, where the dogs had gone strangely quiet. He would keep watch in case someone sneaked back.
Abu Jasim again hefted the grenade launcher, an evil genie intent on mass destruction. Ari would have preferred a less tear-ass approach, but if all three terrorists suddenly jumped out at them a single shot from the MGL would settle things nicely. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw saucer-eyed Ahmad stepping gingerly over a rut in the lane. Ari thought of signaling for him to stay with Lawson. But when he considered all the times in his life that he had been outnumbered by the enemy, he decided he much preferred even odds. He nodded at Abu Jasim.
Hugging the bushes lining the lane, they moved forward slowly. They heard shouting. Hoping the men inside were distracted, Ari picked up the pace.
"Who else did you call?"
Ari recognized the voice of Sayid Mohammed Al-Rafa'ee. He also recognized the sound of a harsh slap.
"No one!" came an unfamiliar voice.
"You called Lawson, didn't you? You set up a trap!"
Slap!
Ari reached the house, but one glance at the old boards of the porch floor warned him against trying to look through the front window. He was trying to catch Abu Jasim's attention when an abrupt shout from his right stripped his attention. He whirled to find a gun pointed through the bushes.
"Fuck!" Ahmad ran forward, gun raised, slipped on a patch of ice, dropped straight on his ass. The gun in the bushes shifted in his direction and Ahmad, sitting up, fired a single shot. A man stumbled forward, shaking some dead leaves onto the ground. He tried to raise his gun again then sat down and watched the blood coming out of his chest.
Ari and Abu Jasim dropped when the house windows exploded outwards, bullets zizzing inches above them. Abu Jasim rolled to his side and took aim.
"No!" Ari shouted. "Hostage!"
"Fuck him!" Abu Jasim shouted back, obviously inured to innocent human shields. But something in the back of his mind cautioned him that the colonel must be
obeyed, even if only partially, and he shifted his aim to the front door.
The explosion deafened the men and roused every crow in the vicinity. Ari rolled to the side and saw black birds scattering frantically in the air. Then he caught a bizarre image of Ahmad and the dying terrorist, both seated, both oblivious to the explosion...and both crying. Ari jumped up and grabbed Ahmad by the coat collar, dragging him into the bushes.
"Oh..." Ahmad sobbed. "Oh..."
Ari slapped him. "Stay alive!"
He turned and saw, to his horror, one, two, three, four men racing out from behind the house. Obviously, the terrorists had not been completely abandoned by the Chaldeans. He shouted a warning and Abu Jasim squirmed sideways on his thick stomach. One of the men took aim at Abu Jasim with an M-16 and Ari raised his Glock. Abu Jasim spotted something Ari hadn't and frantically cried, "His head!"
Ari tried to heed but the man was squeezing the trigger. Ari's bullet caught him in the collarbone. The M-16 dropped as the man fell. Abu Jasim studied him with a brief, horrified look. He leapt up and ran at Ari.
"What—"
Before Ari could ask more, Abu Jasim was dropping on him and Ahmad like a maniacal bull. Ari caught a glimpse of the wounded man pulling something at his chest.
He had always found suicide bombers revolting. One of the worst images that revolved in his mind was of a small mountain of Yemeni soldiers slain when a comrade approached, smiled, called them to gather round, and pulled the cord. All of those men who still had faces had died with expectant grins.
He would not die with a smile. He would die oofing and woofing from the great weight of this Saddam Hussein lookalike crushing the wind out of him. The blast tossed them end over end, into and beyond the boxwoods. It sliced off the head of the man Ahmad had wounded and shortened the bushes by several inches. When the roar and flash subsided, Ari found a corn husk in his mouth. And he was alive to enjoy it.
Abu Jasim had been flung to the side. He was moaning, grabbing behind him. Ari turned him over and noted his peppered ass.
"It's an improvement."
Ignoring Abu Jasim's oaths, he looked around for Ahmad. Annoyingly enough, he was again sitting up, and again crying. After giving him another slap, Ari spent a moment counting his luck. Because the Chaldean had been on his back, most of the blast had been directed skyward. There was a dreary smudge where his body had been. Ari tried not to think that much of the man's personal autopsy lay in pieces on his new coat.
His phone was vibrating. Ari recognized Ben's number, but when he answered he could barely hear through his concussed ears. He could just make out Ben's voice, but not his words.
"I'm temporarily half-deaf," he said. "Roll down your window and follow the sounds of devastation."
He crouched, suddenly realizing he had spoken too loudly. Would he be able to hear gunshots? Hopefully, the opposition would be as disoriented as he was. He saw movement beyond the narrow screen of bushes and hustled back to Abu Jasim, who had rolled onto his side and was trying to instruct Ahmad on how to use the grenade launcher. Ari gestured him into silence and pointed towards the lane. Nodding, his face twisted in pain, Abu Jasim began pulling himself around to face the bushes. With a gruff nudge from Ari, Ahmad rose and helped turn his uncle, dragging him into the gray tangle of roots that rumpled the ground under the bushes. Ahmad had dropped his gun. Ari took Abu Jasim's Walther P99 from under his coat and put it in his hand. Sweeping his arm towards the small turnaround in front of the house, he let Abu Jasim know he was to start shooting anyone who came that way. The wounded man held up one, then two fingers. Ari held up four, then shrugged. He didn't know how many were left.
His phone vibrated. Looking at it, he saw Lawson's number on the display. Opening it, he thought he heard a faint whisper.
"Be prepared," Ari said in what he hoped was a low voice. "At least one of them was wearing a suicide vest. We can't join you just yet."
He pocketed the phone and gave Ahmad a look of reassurance, though he was less than reassured by the young man's shaking limbs. When he turned to move towards the house, Ahmad grabbed his arm. Ari frowned his admonishment. Taking a deep breath, Ahmad reached up and removed something from the side of Ari's head. He gaped at the strip of flesh for the briefest moment before hastily tossing it aside. Ari patted him on the shoulder, then nodded towards the side of the house.
Using the boxwoods to screen their movement, Ari drew up behind a propane tank propped against the wall. He raised his eyes over a window sill and tried to sort out the chaos Abu Jasim's grenade had made in the front room. He saw two legs tipped up in the air, crooked over a fallen chair. He could not see the rest of the man, but several jerks of the feet told Ari he was still alive. There was movement at the far end of the smoke-hazy room and Ari ducked. He tugged on Ahmad's jacket and cocked his head towards the back.
A crow on the telephone wire overhead began cawing. Ari was gratified that his hearing was returning, but bothered by the unwanted attention. He waved violently at the bird, which leaned down and screeched.
Reaching the back door, Ari stood Ahmad to the side, then stretched out and turned the knob. He was lifting himself up the two narrow steps when an automatic pistol barrel jutted out from the entrance. Ari dodged sideways off the steps and the man followed. Then he spotted Ahmad and half turned away. Bursting forward, Ari whipped his knuckles into the man's side. The man gave a small 'woof', whirled back on Ari and brought a large fist down on his forearm. Ari's gun flew up.
Ahmad took aim but was afraid of hitting Ari. He bent down and bulled forward, catching the man in the small of his back. They both stumbled forward into Ari and all three fell to the ground.
Ari found the man's head conveniently next to his own and jabbed at his eyes. The man swore and dropped his gun when he raised his hands in defense. He threw Ahmad back as he rolled off, giving Ari a vicious plug in the ribs as his knees hit the ground. Ari tried to roll away but found his legs tangled against the house wall. As he pushed up on his hands he saw the man's arm cocked. Guessing the man's target, his windpipe puckered.
Suddenly, the man's face went tight as he roared in pain. He jerked sideways, and Ari could see Ahmad with his teeth well-set in the man's ankle. As the man kicked him off, Ari regained his feet and swung his foot at his head. He connected solidly, but it didn't seem to faze the oversized Chaldean, who hauled himself up and struck out at Ari's crotch. Ari turned and caught the blow in the hip.
"Peasant!" he cried out in pain, falling against the house.
The man was reaching down for his Uzi when something rose above his head and thunked down hard. He stood up, staggering backwards. Fighting the pain in his hip, Ari pushed off the wall and gave him a solid kidney punch. The man reversed direction, was lurching forward when Ahmad whacked him in the head again with an old board he had found near the house foundation. The board snapped in two and the man continued forward, swearing. The lithe Ahmad slipped out of range as he frantically searched for another board. Everyone's gun was on the ground at the man's feet. A smug grin appeared under the man's bloodied head as he realized this. He also realized that if he bent down to get one of them he would open himself to attack from two directions.
Ahmad began pulling at a pipe used to hold up a clothesline. The man turned to Ari. Keeping his head turned up, watching for any sudden movement, he bent his knees and groped in the dirt. He reminded Ari of the raccoon he had encountered at Manchester Docks. Ari darted forward, but suddenly the Walther was in the man's hand, and it was pointed at his head.
There was a distant snap, like a metallic rubber band stretched to the limit. The man pulled a face and began turning, as though to see who had hit him. Then he felt a deadly warmth and reached up to find a gush of blood. He dropped to his knees.
Ahmad was still straining at the clothesline pipe.
"Stop that!" Ari hissed, pocketing his Glock and picking up the Uzi.
Ahmad glanced up and saw the man on the ground, still propped on his
knees.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked.
"He's dead," Ari answered.
"Why doesn't he fall over?"
"He's stubborn."
"But how—?"
"Ben has arrived."
Ahmad turned in every direction. "Where?"
"Probably in those trees over there." Ari had loaned Ben his M40 Sniper Rifle, with an effective range of 900 meters.
"Now don't you be stubborn, too. Stop playing with that pipe and get your gun."
All of this was whispered as lowly as Ari and Ahmad could manage, but anyone just inside the door would have heard them. Ari watched carefully, saw no shadows, and approached once more.
There was no one else in the back room. The smell of scorched wood from Abu Jasim's grenade wafted down the short, narrow hall. After doorways, Ari liked hallways the least. He had nothing but sympathy for GI's sliding their way through the corridors of a typical Iraqi home. He also had sympathy for the people in those homes, which put him in a moral quandary.
Midway up the hall, Ari heard a mewling noise from behind a closed door. A kitten in distress? He reached for the knob, but before his mind registered the act his gun had come up and he fired. The Uzi spit three rounds. The silhouette in the front room fired at the same instant. A vicious, whizzing insect tried to nip Ari's ear as the shadow yelled and fell back. Ari whirled around.
"Ahmad?"
"I'm all right," said the young man, and burst in to tears. Ari turned back front and edged forward. He found Mohammed on the floor, gasping, reaching for his machine pistol. Ari stepped forward, picked up the gun, and put it in his large pocket. His coat was getting heavy.
"Growing your beard back?" Ari said. He kicked the man's wounded shoulder, binding him with pain for a few minutes and leaving him time to look closely at the prisoner.
The chair Ethan Wareness had been bound to was knocked backwards by the grenade. It was impossible to differentiate between the wounds of the beating and those from the blast, but his eyes were open. Ari gave him a cursory inspection, then gripped the back of the chair and hauled it up.
"Mr. Slimewad, we finally meet," said Ari.
"What?" said Ethan dazedly.