by Alex Lukeman
Bad odds.
They moved everything over to where Harmon lay on the ground. Carter thought about the situation. He didn’t like what he was thinking.
"How long before they find us?" Selena asked.
"I don’t know. We made maybe two or three miles from where they were. This plateau is safer than the valley floor. We’re a couple of hundred feet up. I don’t think anyone can spot us from below if we keep away from the edge."
"Then we’re safe for the moment." She wiped sweat from her forehead.
"Probably. I’m not sure anyone could get up here if they wanted to, or if we can get down. Harmon can’t be moved."
"I’m going to see if we can get help."
She took her satellite phone out of her bag.
"Shit." She held it up. A round had hit the phone. Useless.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jibril al-Bausari sat cross legged in the coolness of the shaded overhang at the entrance to the cave. Late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the seared landscape.
Bausari controlled his anger. Young men were impetuous. The plane had been too tempting a target. Three of his men were searching for wreckage and any survivors. The plane had been shot to pieces. It couldn’t have gone far.
But what if the pilot had radioed before it went down? And why, in Allah’s name, did it have to appear now? Now complicated plans might have to be changed.
His fighters were getting ready for departure. He would leave after dark. In two or three nights, God willing, he would reach the coast in Mauritania, where the next phase would get under way.
Bausari wasn’t worried about border patrols. They were few and he could avoid or destroy them. But the American satellites might still find the truck, even at night. Once he reached the coast that would all change.
Bausari knew time was running out. Every day, the illness ate away at him. Allah tested his servants, but soon the test would be over.
Years of poor food, prison, torture, extremes of heat and cold had taken their toll. His old wounds ached. Bausari massaged the contracted, rigid fingers of his crippled left hand, a souvenir of the Muktabharat, the Egyptian secret police.
Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sudan, Libya, Iraq, Egypt, Algeria—he could no longer remember every cave, every battle, every stretch of desert sand or mountain valley. They blurred together in one endless chain of hardship and struggle. He had killed many infidels, but remembered few. Many he had never seen. God willing, there would be many more. God willing, this time he would strike such a blow that the unbelievers would tremble in fear before Allah’s righteous anger.
The cave made a perfect hiding place along the route to Mauritania. AQIM used it as a place to cache weapons and supplies, out of sight of the accursed American satellites..
AQIM hadn't known what was concealed in the cave, but Bausari had discovered the secret. He had no interest in the supplies AQIM stored there. He'd sent his men ahead to be sure the cave was secure. When he arrived he'd begun looking. The hidden chamber was found behind a heavy fall of rock. Inside had been an old, wooden box under a fragile green cloth.
Bausari had opened it and fallen to his knees in prayer and gratitude. It would be put to good use, in accordance with Allah's plan. Just as had been prophesied, it had come to light now as the end times approached. He had risked a transmission to Cairo, to tell them.
He didn't know his message had been intercepted by others.
Bausari rose painfully and stretched. Soon enough, the gates of Paradise would open and Allah would welcome his faithful servant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun overwhelmed the western sky with fierce reddish light. The view from the mesa took in a vast, wind-swept space of sand and sharp rock that sloped away toward a glinting, far horizon. The light turned the landscape into a vista of stark and hostile beauty. It was still over a hundred degrees.
They rigged the tarp over two boulders, away from the edge of the plateau. Carter cut one of the sleeping bags so it could be opened up like a blanket. He put it on the stretcher. They lifted Harmon onto his makeshift bed and carried him to the improvised shade and huddled out of the sun. At least it was cooler here than on the valley floor.
"We have to ration the water," Selena said. "We need some now."
"Careful sips." Nick handed her the bottle.
She drank. He took the bottle and trickled a little into Harmon's mouth. Dangerous to give him any water, but he would die without it.
"Easy. Just a little." Harmon's forehead felt hot and dry. Carter took two sips for himself and set the bottle down.
"Depp." Harmon's voice was weak, not the voice that could shout across a crowded bar for service and get it. For a second Carter had to remember who he was supposed to be.
"Yeah, Joe."
"This sucks."
"Yeah."
"I’m not going to make it."
"Knock it off. You’ll be fine."
"Yeah, sure." He coughed. "Let my folks know."
"Come on, Joe."
"Promise. You gotta promise."
"Will you shut up if I promise?" He took Harmon's hand and squeezed it. "I promise. Now lie still." Harmon closed his eyes. His breathing was slow and shallow. Carter looked down at Harmon's gray face. Nick had seen that look before, too many times.
"I’m going to look around." He got up and approached the edge of the mesa, got down and crawled to the side. He peered over the edge. The rock dropped straight down, two hundred feet or more. No one would come that way, or leave, either.
He worked his way around the perimeter. Three sides were impassable. On the fourth, the rock sloped away in a narrow, steep incline covered with loose stones. It would be possible to get down here. It would also be possible to get up. Good news and bad news, depending on who did the climbing. At least he knew which way they’d come, if they came.
The light faded and the temperature dropped. The moon rose. Harmon's hand twitched and moved against the ground. Nick sat down next to Selena.
"I’m going to do a little recon. Now’s the best time. There’s almost a full moon. It'll give me enough light."
"Where are you going?"
He pointed. "Back the way we came. It can’t be more than a few miles. We need to find out what we’re up against. We have to do something right now. If we wait here they’ll find us, or the sun and lack of water will get us."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Stand watch where that slope goes down. When I come back I’ll signal so you’ll know it’s me. Like this,"
He made a soft bird call he’d learned as a kid. "Don’t shoot the birdie, okay?"
"How long, you think?"
"Four hours, maybe five. It depends. It’s dark enough for me to go now."
"It’s getting cold."
"We can’t risk a fire. Eat a granola bar if you’re hungry."
"What about you?"
He patted his stomach. "Nah, I’m too fat anyway. I’ve done this before. Don’t worry about me."
She nodded. He went to the edge of the mesa and started down the slope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Selena watched Nick disappear over the edge. She heard a few stones roll away, then nothing.
The night was clear, the moon rising, the sky an ocean of stars. For just a moment she could believe the violence of the day had been no more than a dream, an aberration of her mind. It was so peaceful here, so calm. Looking up at the stars, she wondered how anyone could justify so much hatred and violence in the name of God. Everyone lived under the same sky.
Selena shivered in the chill night air. How fast the heat of the day went away. Restless, she checked on Harmon. He was asleep or unconscious. His forehead burned. She wet a cloth with some of the precious water and draped it over his brow. She sat on the hard ground above the slope.
She thought about their situation. They were almost twenty miles from Taoudenni and the nearest thing resembling civilization, if you could call that miserable pla
ce civilized.
If the terrorists didn’t find them they could walk out. They had enough water. But Harmon would never survive an overland journey. He might not even survive a trip to the bottom of the mesa. She realized she thought he would die. She’d seen the same thought on Nick's face as she’d watched him work on Harmon. There had been concern, worry and something incredibly tender in his expression. Love, even.
He’d saved their lives today, made that landing. He’d just done what had to be done. That was his way, no matter what kind of insanity surrounded him. There was plenty of that working with the Project. It scared her, if she thought about it too much. There would be days, even weeks of calm. Then everything would dissolve into violence.
Nick had called her a rookie. It was true, she was a babe in the woods compared to him. Rookie or not, she'd saved his ass more than once already. The thought was comforting.
She gazed at the stars and thought about love. God was supposed to be about love. Why did people forget that and became hateful killers in the name of God? There had to be more to it than the reasons you always heard, like injustice and poverty and envy. Old Testament thinking carried over into modern times.
Maybe it was just fear, the need humans had for control in an uncontrollable world. The need for Rules. The need to know where you were in relation to the universe and other humans. Knowing what you were supposed to do, allowed to do, because someone told you God wanted it that way.
Selena didn't know if God was real, but she didn't believe in the self righteous strictures of dogmatic religion. No God worth the name would inflict such insanity on people. People did a damn good job of that themselves. It didn't need God to make it happen.
For the third time she made sure she had a round chambered in her Glock. It hadn’t changed.
A noise made her start. A loose stone? An animal? There weren’t many animals out here. The desert fox, she knew, the Fennec, a sly, small creature that could go without water for days and somehow survive in this terrible environment. She held the Glock in both hands and peered into the night. The moon cast soft, quiet light, enough to throw shadows and dark shapes everywhere. Was that a rock down there? Did it move?
She looked at the faint glow of her watch. Nick had been gone twenty minutes, a little longer, and it already felt like hours. Sitting in the dim moonlight, grasping the pistol, she let herself realize she was afraid.
Her thoughts drifted. What did she want from life? How had life brought her here, to a corner of earth that resembled hell?
As a little girl her parents had dazzled her with stories from the Arabian Nights. In her fantasies she'd been an exotic princess, surrounded by slaves and large men with swords to protect her, perfumes and mysterious foods, pearls and jewels. It was a good memory.
Then her parents died, and her brother. For a long time she didn't smile. The fantasies fell away for what they were, illusions. Her uncle had helped her heal, educated her. He'd taken her all over the world and showed her the beauty and culture that defined the good side of being human. He'd made her look at the poverty and suffering as well as the beauty. It had shaped her with the desire to understand. To somehow, some way, make a difference.
Her uncle had been murdered and she'd met Nick, only months ago. Since then she'd been caught up in a violent journey that had awakened a fierce desire for life. She was addicted to the adrenaline rush, the taste of fear, the challenge to survive. The challenge to do something that could actually make a difference.
Right now, shivering on a pile of rock in the heart of a deadly wasteland, a pistol in her hand, she was afraid. It wasn't fun.
Three hours later she heard Nick's soft bird call. A little piece of her fear dissolved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They sat in the shadows of the boulders. A foul smell seeped from Harmon's improvised bandage. He'd be dead within a day if they didn't get help.
"I found them," Carter kept his voice low. "They’re holed up in a cave two miles from here. There’s a big overhang over the entrance. It's why we couldn’t see them from the air until too late."
"How many?"
"I don't know. I saw two, but there have to be more. I heard a truck start up and drive away, so there are fewer than before. It might have been the one we’re looking for."
"There’s not much we can do about it. We can’t call it in. We need a phone."
"Maybe there's a phone in that cave."
"Terrorists don't use phones. They figured that out in Afghanistan. Too easy to track."
"Not if it's something like ours. Satellite, encrypted, quick bursts, relays around the globe. It's easy enough to disable the GPS. These guys have to have some way to communicate except couriers. We have to get in that cave."
"You want to get a phone from the cave?"
"Yes."
"Are you out of your mind?" Selena looked at him. "How do we do that? Walk up and ask to borrow it?"
"Harmon will die if we don't get a chopper here tomorrow. We can’t carry him out."
"I know."
"If he’s still got a chance, it’s in that cave."
"We’re outgunned. We can’t win a firefight with them."
"We could take away the advantage their weapons give them if we get them out of the cave and into the open. Then we could ambush them."
"How do we get them out of the cave?" Selena wiped dirt from her forehead.
"You ever hear of a Japanese named Miyamoto Musashi?"
"The Samurai who wrote the Book of Five Rings?"
"Yes. He was the greatest swordsman in Japanese history. Five Rings is about self discipline and the art of combat. Musashi said that when you’re outnumbered, you get your enemies to come together in one place, because you can’t fight them when they’re spread out."
"Then what?"
"Then you kill them."
"They are in one place, in that cave."
"Yes, but we can’t get to them there."
Carter thought. Problem: How do you persuade a bunch of paranoid religious fanatics to come out of their lair? In a moment the solution came to him. Get God to do it.
"What time are the Muslim prayers," Nick asked. "Do you know?"
"Which one? There are five daily prayers."
"Something a few hours from now."
She looked at her watch. "Well, the sunrise prayer would be around six."
"Prayers are a big deal for the faithful, right?"
"A very big deal."
"Can you imitate a muzzein? You know, the guy who chants the call to prayer?"
"Me? Make the call to prayer? I was brought up a Christian."
"I don’t think God cares about that. You know the words?"
"Yes, but…"
"Hear me out. Let’s say you’re a Muslim terrorist sitting in your nice cozy cave. There isn't a mosque or minaret within hundreds of miles. You’re getting ready for the prayer and all of a sudden you hear the call coming from outside. What would you do?"
"I don't know what I'd do. I’d probably think it was the voice of Allah or something."
"What would you do?" He watched her run it through.
"I’d come out of the cave. I’d want to find out what was going on."
"What would you be thinking?"
"I’d be confused, wary. All my cultural conditioning would be operating but my suspicion would be running wild."
"There’s a wide ravine leading up to the cave. It slopes up to a ridge about fifty feet high along one edge. There are big boulders up there. Some of them didn’t look all that stable to me."
"You want to lure them out and roll rocks down on them?"
"Why not? I remember a western I saw where the Indians did that, right before they wiped out the cavalry patrol."
"But this isn’t a movie. You couldn’t get all of them."
"No, but they won’t know what’s happening. We start shooting when the boulders hit. They’ll be confused. We can do it."
"It’s crazy."
"What if they don’t all come out?"
"We’ll deal with that if we have to."
"What about Harmon?" She gestured at him. He pawed with his hand at the bag covering him, his face slack and gray in the moonlight.
"We have to leave him. We’ll come back and get him. If we can’t pull this off he’s finished."
"Well." She hummed a few bars under her breath. "My Dad once told me I had a voice that could break glass."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The moon had gone. The night shaded from dark to gray. The eastern sky glowed with reddish orange and deep blue behind the mountains. Selena stood between two slabs of jagged rock, thirty yards from the entrance of the cave. Nick crouched behind a massive, tottering boulder perched on the edge of the ravine. Large, loose rocks on the slope below were bound to follow it down. He was pretty sure Cochise and Geronimo would approve.
He laid Ibrahim’s rifle on the ground, cocked and loaded. He placed his hands against the hard stone and felt a hint of heat from the previous day. The sun was about to crest the ridge. It was showtime.
The unearthly sound of the call to prayer echoed off the rocky walls of the ravine. Even though Carter knew it was coming, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He tensed his muscles and set his feet, ready to push that rock down on whoever came out of the cave.
For a minute, nothing happened. Selena continued the wailing call. Maybe it wouldn’t work.
Five men slowly emerged from the darkness of the cave mouth. They wore skull caps and bushy beards, long shirts and loose, billowing pants. They carried AKs and moved their heads everywhere, trying to see where the voice came from. The leader signaled and they began walking up the ravine. Three were in front, two trailed behind. They cast nervous glances right and left. Carter waited until the first man passed before he pushed the boulder over.
The huge stone rolled down and brought a landslide of rocks behind. The boulder struck the two men behind the leader and crushed them. Their screams echoed from the rocks. A cloud of dust rose as the rumble of stone died away.