The Forgotten Soldier: A Pike Logan Thriller

by Brad Taylor

  She took in the applause, smiled at Kurt for the accolades, then returned to her seat, the entire purpose of her visit over in seconds. She realized why the men hated these ceremonies. The chasm between the Council members and what she did was as great as that of a fan watching the Super Bowl and the quarterback on the field.

  Except the Council members in this room called the plays.

  21

  Kurt went into the meat of his talk, discussing ongoing operations. Occasionally, one of the Council members would steal a glance her way. Wanting to touch the magic.

  Missions in the Maghreb, operations in Southeast Asia, problems with cover organizations, and issues with equipment. Kurt droned on and on, with a PowerPoint slide punctuating each segment. Jennifer faded out, wondering why she’d come at all. She heard the name Guy George, then her own name, and snapped back to the briefing.

  “. . . from what Pike and Jennifer gathered, I believe this man is a financier of Islamic State activities and a legitimate Taskforce target. He’s funded terrorism in Afghanistan and is implicated in the death of at least four members of United States Special Forces.”

  President Warren said, “So what are you asking for?”

  “Alpha. Let me explore. Let’s find out what this guy is up to. I know he’s killing people. I just don’t know how.”

  Silent before, probably dozing off, Secretary of State Jonathan Billings exploded, “No way! Have you lost your mind? That’s Haider al-Attiya! Son of Sharif al-Attiya. They’re both representatives of the Qatar Investment Authority. Jesus Christ, you might as well accuse the Saudi Royal Family of being terrorists.”

  Kurt said, “Okay. I’m game for that discussion.”

  Billings stammered for a moment, then said, “You are an idiot. Like every other conspiracy theorist out there. You have no idea what is going on in the world. You’re a hammer looking for a nail.”

  Kurt snapped back at his words, his face reflecting the contempt he felt. He said, “You want to hide behind their cloak of diplomacy, that’s your mistake. I’m presenting facts. Pure and simple.”

  Billings raised his voice. “The Qatar Investment Authority is not funding terrorism. It has the backing of the emir. They have holdings all over the world. They’re about to save the euro from crashing completely with their infusion of cash in Greece. You’ve lost your mind if you think they’re spending their time killing soldiers in Afghanistan. Jesus, they’re the ones who are bankrolling the building of our new embassy in London. They bought the old one.”

  Kurt took a breath and said, “Like I said, I’m presenting facts. How do you explain not one but two pictures on a target package in Afghanistan? I didn’t make that up. I didn’t wish a soldier’s death. I don’t like it any more than you. But facts are facts.”

  “Allegations aren’t facts. The pictures you have are nothing but wishful thinking. They’re so damn bad they could be anybody.” Billings turned to the president and said, “Sir, surely we aren’t now talking about targeting a sovereign government based on some grainy pictures from Afghanistan? We know how often those are wrong.” He looked at Kurt and said, “We know how often Special Forces soldiers kill civilians by mistake.”

  Jennifer saw the words hit home and thought Kurt was going to launch himself across the table, the tension in the room ratcheting up to the breaking point. She watched Kurt restrain himself, and wished Pike had been there. Billings deserved a thumping for his statement, even if Kurt couldn’t dish it out.

  Instead of using his fists, Kurt used words, and Jennifer finally understood why she was in the room. What Knuckles had meant about her doing some good. Kurt had been prepared for Billings, and she was weight in the fight. Kurt pointed at her and said, “That is a Taskforce member. One you just applauded. She is the face of what you’re calling a murderer. Look at her and say that.”

  Truculent, Billings crossed his arms, saying nothing, his eyes remaining on Kurt. Everyone else in the room looked her way, and she could tell Kurt’s words had had an effect. In the back, behind everyone else, George Wolffe winked at her. Score one for the Taskforce.

  President Warren raised a hand and said, “Everyone take a breath. Kurt, how sure are you about this? You’re asking for a delicate mission here. We aren’t talking about some ISIS guy from Algeria.”

  Kurt turned away from Billings and said, “Sir, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking for Alpha. I’ve got five faces and two names. Both names are in the QIA. The other three faces probably are as well. One of the names is in the United States right now, in Key West. We know that from Jennifer’s mission.”

  Billings said, “We don’t know anything. We’re just guessing.”

  Kurt ignored him and continued. “I’m not saying I want to thump them in the head tomorrow. I’m saying I want to investigate.” He nodded at Jennifer and said, “I’m saying let’s use what our members have found.”

  President Warren looked at Billings and said, “And what’s wrong with that?”

  Billings said, “What’s wrong with that? Sir, first, the Taskforce has no operational authority in the United States. I’m not looking to expand its mandate. I was against them even doing the mission in the Caymans. That was outside its charter. This is stretching things to the breaking point. As far as I’m concerned, the entire thing is fruit from the poisoned tree.”

  The secretary of defense spoke up. “Are you really telling us that we can’t proceed against a terrorist threat based on some lawyer lingo? Seriously?”

  The director of the CIA chuckled, turned to the president, and said, “Sir, not to paint too fine a gloss on this, but that’s fucking stupid.”

  Jennifer inwardly smiled and saw Kurt relax, triumph assured. President Warren said, “Okay, okay, wait a minute. We’re missing the point. Billings, why would it be bad to do this? Besides the precedent? What are you seeing from State?”

  “Sir, the Qatar Investment Authority is about to dump money into Greece. They’re willing to support the Greek government beyond the European Union. The EU has asked for draconian measures for debt relief. Measures the Greek government can’t meet. If we do this, we’re going to cause the investments to be withdrawn. And with that, the failure of the euro as a currency. If Greece leaves the European Union, the euro as a currency will most likely collapse. That will send the US economy into a recession. Possibly a depression. We can’t let that happen.”

  President Warren said, “So if I don’t help Greece avoid the very measures they need to emplace to stay solvent, I’m wrong? I have to watch one more Band-Aid be slapped on, or I’m the bad guy?”

  Billings said, “Sir, that’s not the way to look at this. As wrong as you think it may be, if the euro fails, it’ll destroy any recovery we think we have. It’s a national security issue. I’ve been working on this deal for damn near a year. And my point man is the target Kurt’s got on the screen. You get rid of him, and you’ve lost the investment.”

  Billings glanced at Jennifer, then went to Kurt, saying, “Look, I’m sorry about what I said before. I have to put our nation’s interests beyond a single attack. I’m not saying he was behind what you allege, because I really don’t think he was, but even so, one death in Afghanistan isn’t worth the destruction of the economy of the European Union—and the ripple effects into the United States. You remove him and you cut the legs out from under Greece. I’m sorry, but as you said, it’s just a fact.”

  Billings turned to the president and said, “Sir, beyond all of the Greek problems, Haider is also the man I’m working with on that other issue. The delicate one.”

  Jennifer didn’t know what that meant but saw that Billings’s words held weight. Saw the twisted decision making of the US government right in front of her eyes. For the first time, understanding that lives of US citizens took a backseat to US policy. She saw the faces in the room and knew the answer before the president spoke.

&
nbsp; Warren leaned back, surveying the council members and seeing concurrence for what he was about to say. “No Alpha authority here. We have enough targets to worry about. Focus on the ones that are a tangible threat.”

  Kurt said, “Sir? They killed a US citizen. They killed a Special Forces soldier. You want to just forget that?”

  Jennifer was shocked at the insubordination.

  Warren bristled and said, “We have no proof of that. Don’t paint me in the blood of a dead American. You know better. You, most of all. You just briefed four other targets that we know have American blood on their hands and are a tangible threat. Did you not?”

  Kurt retreated and said, “Yes, sir. We have four targets right now. Two ready for Omega.”

  “Well, then, it looks like you have your hands full anyway. You’d have to trade one known for an unknown. Deal with the current targets, then we’ll revisit a Qatar connection.”

  Kurt nodded and President Warren softened his tone. “Kurt, I understand the personal connection here, but even if these guys were responsible for the attack in Afghanistan, they aren’t a clear and present danger to the United States. They aren’t a threat to the homeland. The Taskforce can only do so much.”

  Kurt said, “So forget Guy George’s brother.”

  President Warren rubbed his eyes and said, “Yes. If that’s what you want to call it.”

  Kurt muttered something that Jennifer didn’t hear. She heard the asshat Billings drive home the wound, forcing the pain through his victory. “What was that, Kurt? What did you say?”

  Kurt slowly turned to Billings. “I said it’s easy to forget a man in here. When you have no skin in the game.”

  Billings started to respond, his pallid double chin quivering in anger, when the light above the door flashed. Someone was trying to enter. Kurt and Billings glared at each other while security clearances were checked, and the man was admitted. Jennifer expected him to go to the president, but he didn’t. He walked straight to Jonathan Billings, the secretary of state, and leaned into his ear.

  Billings jerked upright, then focused on Kurt. “You’re already operating on the Qatari men, aren’t you?”

  He stood up and pointed at Jennifer. “Did you use her information? I can’t believe I even considered cheering about her exploits. You sicken me.”

  President Warren said, “Calm down. What was that all about?”

  Billings looked at the president and said, “Ahmed Mansoor? The guy from the Caymans? They just found him with his throat slit in Florida.”

  22

  Haider tepidly picked at his Greek salad, the acid in his stomach stanching his appetite. In fact, the nagging fear that was producing the acid was overwhelming any joy from the rest of his senses.

  Eating dinner at the storied Old Tavern in the Plaka of Athens, he was seated on the side of the Acropolis, in the shadow of the Parthenon, a cool evening breeze blowing across the open deck. He ignored it all, his mind having worried a tendril of dread until it had become a rope of fear.

  Across from him sat Nassir and Khalid Mansoor, the “brothers” of Ahmed. In truth, they were all bastard children caught between fathers who refused to claim them and a society where the tribe’s name meant all. They too showed little interest in the meal. They too held the fear, because Ahmed was as real a brother as blood.

  Nassir hung up his cell phone and shook his head, the fourth time he had done so in as many hours. “Still no answer. I think it’s time to call your father.”

  Ahmed had arrived in Key West two days ago. Haider had received one jubilant email praising the meeting on Grand Cayman, then nothing. Repeated attempts at contact had failed, and Haider had eventually been forced to release the crew to continue on to Miami, where the yacht was berthed.

  Now he was concerned by the void in communication. All three at the table were feeling the angst, but unlike Nassir or Khalid, Haider’s worry came from the potential backlash from his father. The elder al-Attiya had made it plain that sending Ahmed to the Caymans was a recipe for failure, and it looked as if he’d be proven right. At least in his father’s eyes. Haider was convinced that Ahmed was more than likely doing nothing more than partying in the debauchery of Key West, but that alone would garner severe sanctions from his father. Especially since he’d used an official yacht from the emir to do so.

  Haider said, “I’m not sure I should call. I mean, what can my father do? Ahmed will turn up. He’s done this before. Remember Germany?”

  Khalid said, “No, no, this is different. He’s never been out of contact for this long. Yes, he’s gone out on his own, but never without contact. Call him.”

  Haider said, “We have our mission here, in the next thirty minutes. We can’t worry about Ahmed right now.”

  Haider saw the anger grow, and felt a new anxiety. Haider would never have feared Khalid before, but he’d seen his actions in Afghanistan. Seen his childhood friend develop a taste for violence. And a talent for it.

  Hidden underneath Khalid’s trimmed beard and manicured nails was an unbridled fury looking for release. Like Haider, all three of the “brothers” were Qatari citizens, but unlike Haider, they were outcasts. As such, they had been raised in the flowing wealth that the oil reserves of Qatar provided, but without the shield of a tribe or the honor of a name. Because of it, instead of taking the blessings provided by the coincidence of his birth, Khalid felt insulted. Cheated. Continually blaming others for his perceived misfortunes.

  He’d found an outlet in a mixed martial arts dojo in Doha, one frequented by expatriates from the West, where he’d learned to fight hand-to-hand. And learned to hate. Whether it was directed at the Westerners or himself, Haider was unsure.

  Khalid had gotten so good that Haider had begun to fear his outbursts of anger. And that was before they’d gone to Afghanistan. Before he’d seen what Khalid could do with a gun. And a knife.

  Haider said, “Okay, okay, I’ll call. Just don’t make any noise. He thinks I’m meeting Nikos by myself. Don’t let him know otherwise.”

  Khalid smirked and said, “Still afraid of your father.”

  Haider scowled and dialed his phone, thinking, At least I have one.

  He looked away from Khalid as the international number went through its dings and whistles, then the call was answered without fanfare by his father, his caller identification giving Haider away.

  “Tell me there isn’t some problem. Tell me you are in Athens, conducting business and not calling me about the police in Key West.”

  Confused, Haider said, “Police? What about them?”

  “Your idiot friend is dead. I just found out an hour ago. The consulate called the QIA, looking for answers.”

  Speechless, Haider said nothing. His father continued. “Luckily, he was not an official employee, but I still had to answer why he was there. What he was doing on a QIA yacht. I need the report he sent you about the Brazil initiative. And you need to prepare to explain yourself when you return.”

  Haider found his voice, surreptitiously glancing at Khalid. “How? What happened?”

  “No idea. The American police are looking into it. Apparently, he was murdered. Killed in a botched robbery in that land of sin. Nothing good comes of walking with the infidel. You should have known that to begin with.”

  Haider was staggered by the news, but fought to keep his face neutral. The last thing he needed was Khalid to find out what had happened to his brother minutes before Nikos arrived for payment. Haider’s father continued as if he’d just talked about missing dinner, saying, “You have the identification papers, yes? You have paid for the travel to Afghanistan?”

  Caught off guard, still thinking about Ahmed, Haider said, “Yes . . . well, I’m meeting Nikos in a few minutes.”

  “But you have seen the passport? You have created the credit accounts?”

  Haider snapped out of his tra
nce and, with a little pique in his voice, said, “Yes, yes. The passport, credit cards, all of that is in the safe-deposit box with the others. I’ve created the bank accounts and wired the money through QIA accounts for activities here in Greece. It’s done.”

  “Watch your tone. Are you sure nobody can trace it?”

  Haider immediately became more subdued, but hated his father for not trusting him. “Yes. There are cutouts, and the monetary amounts are so small nobody will look. The only link is the database in the safe-deposit box with the other identification papers. Just like we did before, when I went to Afghanistan.”

  “Get rid of the link.”

  “Father, I can’t. If I destroy the records, I can’t re-create the system in the future. I can’t possibly remember all of the cutouts and bank accounts on my own.”

  His father said, “We can talk about that later. For now, you need to get the identification to Crete. This time, I want you to use one of our boats in the Athens harbor. I don’t want you on any flight manifests.”

  “Crete? But I don’t even know where or when the talks are going to occur.”

  “Our man is coming to Crete tomorrow night, hiding as a refugee on a boat from Libya. He’ll break free once he’s on Greek soil. You meet him there and give him the identification and travel documents. Get him to Afghanistan with papers.”

  “I can’t go there tomorrow. I’m meeting the United States secretary of state. He called me, setting up a meeting tomorrow night. Something urgent. I think it’s the peace talks.”

  Haider heard nothing for a moment, then, “What about your idiot friends? Are they in Greece with you?”