by David Lender
She saw Saif disappear into the darkness in the corridor, then a few seconds later emerge, running straight back toward her.
A dead end. She had him trapped!
He opened a door and ducked into a room, slamming the door behind him, only to have it bounce off the doorjamb and swing back open. She slid on one knee into the doorway, her pistol raised, her gaze darting around the room, taking in everything. Well lit. Big, with stacks of old furniture: bureaus, chairs, desks. Two more doors. The smell of dust.
She slipped in, crept forward.
“Sasha, my Sasha!” Saif called out from the far side of the room. “You still have another chance to make the right choice. Drop your gun and join me.”
“I am no longer your Sasha.”
“You will always be, as long as I am breathing.”
“Then you’re still a ridiculous little boy.”
She heard a metallic ping and felt her pulse shoot up as she saw a green-skinned concussion grenade hurtling toward her. Saif jumped up from behind a desk with his AK-47 aimed. Sasha dived behind a bureau as the burst from Saif’s weapon raked the wall above her. She curled into a ball on the floor, squeezed her eyes shut tight and stuck her fingers into her ears.
The explosion knocked the bureau over onto her, but it absorbed most of the blast. She saw stars, not sure if from the concussion or from the bureau hitting her. She jumped to her feet, the Colt raised, seeing Saif run through one of the doors into an adjoining room.
Another dead end or is he getting away?
She ran toward the doorway, hearing another burst from Saif’s AK-47. She pulled up beside the door, glanced in, her heart pounding. The room was similar. Furniture. Stacks of boxes. Another door across the room. That door hung open with the area around the lock riddled with bullet holes.
Had he escaped or was he still inside?
She inched into the room. She crushed something underfoot, and Saif came up at the sound, firing from behind a stack of chairs to her left. Sasha dived to the floor, taking cover behind piles of boxes. Saif’s rifle went silent and she heard the sound of another clip hitting the floor, then looked up to see the grenade, this one a black pineapple, heading toward her.
A shrapnel grenade. No!
She ran straight at it and leaped feet-first, executing a yoko tobi geri, a flying side kick that launched the grenade off the bottom of her foot back toward where it had come from. She landed on her feet, then dived over a stack of boxes just as the explosion shook the room, the breath coming out of her when she hit the floor on her stomach.
Sasha pulled herself to her knees, waiting, listening.
Nothing.
Had the grenade killed him? She got to her feet, air coming back into her lungs, crouching with the Colt in both hands in firing position, still listening.
She heard a clang.
Oh my God, another!
She saw a black shrapnel grenade rolling across the floor toward her.
Move!
She pushed a row of boxes over on it, then dived sideways, her eyes focused on the far doorway. She landed on her stomach, the Colt poised in her outstretched arms. The explosion blew the boxes apart, threw papers and dust into the air, but she was unharmed. Saif leaped to his feet from behind some furniture and charged for the doorway.
Sasha took aim and fired, once, twice, a third time over his head into the wall.
“Warning shots!” she yelled, barely hearing her own voice over the ringing in her ears from the grenades. “You’d be dead if I wanted to hit you.” She ran to the doorway and glanced into the room. More storage, but no door.
“You’re trapped. Surrender.”
Saif didn’t respond for a moment, then said, “I’m throwing down my weapon.” She heard the clatter of his AK-47 hitting the floor. She peeked into the doorway, saw him with a revolver aimed at her, yanked her head back.
“I expected as much,” she called out. “I knew I couldn’t trust you to be unarmed.”
“And why should I trust you? You’ve been trying to kill me for days.”
“I just fired three warning shots.”
“And I could have taken the shot just now and killed you, too.”
Sasha realized he was right. But he’d fired at her earlier and tried to blow her to pieces with grenades; she still didn’t trust him. And yet, she was sick of killing. She wanted him stopped, in custody, and was prepared to accept the possibility of dying to make that happen. Her faith was strong enough to make her unafraid. She’d go in and get him, and whatever happened, so be it.
“I’m coming in with my gun down.”
She hesitated, then offered a silent prayer to Ganesha and lowered the Colt to her side. Then she raised her chin and eased herself into the doorway. He held his revolver pointed directly at her, his eyes glazed with fear, breathing hard, but smiling.
Sasha stepped into the room and stopped only 10 meters from him. “What do you think killing me will solve?” she said.
“Only to help me escape.”
“I thought you loved me.” She spat the words, sneering at him, feeling the cold steel of the Colt in her hand at her side, focused.
“I do, but I love my country more than you.”
“Then you’re a fraud. You don’t really believe in love. You’re just as you were, when you had me as a silly young girl. You were afraid of showing your emotions then, keeping me and them holed up in a hotel room, just as you are now. That’s why you’ll never be a whole person. Don’t talk to me about love. I know what love is. I had it with my Daniel, until you had him murdered.”
“My, but you’re a romantic for one who started her adult life by making her money on her back.”
“See what I mean about not believing in love? You’re so immune to the concept you can’t see your own cynicism.”
“As I said, I love my country. I believe in it, in the Saudi people’s potential to reclaim it.”
“You don’t believe in your country. You only believe in what you want for yourself. Power. Your own ambition, your self-deluded notion that you might have a place on the world stage. You once had potential, but you were never able to rise above feeling sorry for yourself about the injustice to your father, your own inability to succeed.”
“I am a committed leader to my men, revered by them, as I will be revered as a leader to my people.”
“You’re nothing, a nobody. A bitter little man who’s jealous of what others have and wants to destroy it. Like you destroyed my Daniel.”
“I no longer have time for such philosophical ramblings.”
Sasha heard voices from the other rooms, men calling out.
“You don’t have much time for anything. They’re coming for you.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Saif said, squinting over his gun, taking aim.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But for what? You’re trapped, and unless you surrender, you’re going to die.” She felt her pulse throbbing in her neck. “You aren’t trained for this. And you don’t have the nerve to look me in the eye and pull the trigger.”
Now she heard footsteps in the next room. “Sasha!” she heard someone call.
Tom’s voice!
“Drop the gun, Saif,” she said. “I won’t kill you unless you make me.”
She saw movement to her left, realized it was Tom stepping into the doorway, an automatic weapon in his hands. Saif turned, aimed at him. Sasha swung her arm up and pulled the trigger twice, remembering to adjust for the recoil of the big .45 for the second round so it wouldn’t make her miss high. Saif lurched over backward to the floor as if yanked by the neck. Sasha motioned with her hand at Tom for him to stop, then ran over to Saif. His eyes were open, staring straight up at her, but no life was in them. He had a hole in his forehead from her first round. She felt for a pulse anyhow, found none. She dropped the Colt to the floor and then walked over to Tom. She threw her arms around his neck and held him.
“Thank God you’re alive,” Tom said. “I thought I’d los
t you.”
CHAPTER 20
SASHA SAT IN THE BACKSEAT, eating a bag of peanuts, the only food they’d found in the SUV where Tom and his team had left it next to the entrance to the catacombs. “My kingdom for a Bar Louis cheeseburger,” she said to Tom, leaning into him, feeling safe with his arm around her. He’d been hovering over her like an attentive husband since he’d walked her out of the room with Saif’s body. Ryan, Seth, Zac and Rashid stood outside, as if they were allowing Sasha and Tom some quiet time together.
“Bar Louis?”
“Hotel Fauchère, Milford, Pennsylvania, where I met Daniel. Best cheeseburgers on the planet.”
Tom nodded. “How do you like them?”
She closed her eyes, imagining it. “Medium rare, gruyère cheese, bacon, some bermuda onion, not much ketchup, a little mustard—”
“With fries?”
“Of course, the truffle oil fries—are you tormenting me?”
He laughed. “Just trying to keep your spirits up. It’ll be another 20 minutes before the chopper gets here. They’ll have something to eat, but I can’t promise you a cheeseburger.”
Ryan walked up, leaned over and put his head in the open door. “I just got word. Couric and Assad’s teams are mopping up. They’ve taken about 500 prisoners and they think rebel casualties are about 300. After Couric’s team took their command center, the rebels just folded. The mosque seems to be secure, but it looks like a number of the rebels escaped into the catacombs. Assad’s sending in some additional teams to make sure.”
“Is the word out about Saif?”
“We’ve made sure it’s hit the newswires with the news about the rebels being overtaken at the mosque, including some photos of his corpse leaked onto the Internet.”
“No mention of our Special Ops guys, I hope.”
“No, Assad’s men are the only ones identified.” Ryan thought for a moment, said, “Let’s see if the word on Saif is enough to contain the uprising.”
“Maybe if it just stalls it for a while, the Saudis will come up with some real reforms to make it go away. They have to realize now that these guys are serious, and some extra food stamps aren’t gonna get it done.”
A few minutes later, a Saudi Black Hawk picked them up. Sasha was too tired to even eat the food they’d prepared for her. She nodded off to sleep, her head resting on Tom’s shoulder.
Tom wanted to call Yassar, but his first priority was getting Sasha on the chopper and back to Riyadh. Once on the Black Hawk, he waited until Sasha fell asleep, then slid his shoulder out from underneath her and rested her head against the back of her seat. He moved all the way to the back of the cabin and called Yassar. He had to hold one finger in his ear and yell into the cell phone, because Yassar, having been briefed by Assad, was also on a chopper on the way back to Riyadh.
Tom told Yassar that Sasha would be fine with some rest and food, then asked him, “Where do you think you stand?”
“Our Secret Police tracked the cell phone of Zafar from the Ikwan. I spoke to him for a half hour before I left Mecca, and he’s agreed to set up a meeting with his fellow leaders from the Islamic Revolutionary Party and the Muslim Brotherhood.”
“I’m surprised. Either you’re very persuasive or they’re back on their heels with the news of retaking the mosque and killing Saif.”
“And with the disappearance of Qahtani.”
Tom thought for a moment. No Qahtani, no Mahdi, no holy war? He said, “What about the al-Mujari?”
“We do not negotiate with terrorists.” Yassar paused, as if for emphasis, then went on. “I have a meeting with King Abdul when I return to Riyadh. I have not yet made specific promises to the dissident groups, but I will make certain that the king understands the necessity of delivering on essential reforms.”
Tom was impressed. The old guy had been around a long time, obviously in part because he was a cagey infighter, and knew when and how to sell his message. Tom had reached an agreement with him on the oil deal. That would give Yassar’s Saudization plans a big shot in the arm, and give Yassar leverage to push for major reforms. Arab Spring in Saudi Arabia could turn into a peaceful summer. He finished his call and went back to check on Sasha. She was still asleep. He walked over and sat down next to Rashid.
“I can bring you back in from undercover,” Tom said. “You’ve done enough. I’ll get you a new identity, move you someplace safe.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. This could be a real opportunity. With Saif gone, there will be a void at the top of the al-Mujari, and I was anointed by Saif as his next-in-command.”
“Anybody see you leave to try to get to Saif?”
“I don’t think so, and anyone who was with him in the catacombs is dead. If I go back in I’ll have a shot at being their leader.”
“You need to be sure you’re not suspected, or you could be killed.”
“I’m aware of that. It’s a chance I’m prepared to take.”
Tom just looked at him, wondering, Does a guy who’s convinced he’s got nothing to lose ever get to the point where he really doesn’t care about getting killed? He said, “I don’t need to tell you how important that would be to us, but you need to think that through, because if you think what you’ve been living for the last few years was tough, this would be another thing entirely.”
Rashid just nodded.
Tom felt the old excitement, like in the days when he recruited and ran his own agents. He’d warned Rashid, so his conscience would be clear. When they got to Riyadh he’d start working out the details. He got up and sat back down next to Sasha.
As soon as Tom dropped Sasha off at the hotel in Riyadh, he went to the embassy and spoke to Ross on a secure line.
“Nice job. Any complications?” Ross said.
“A few, but not worth mentioning now.”
“Where does the situation stand overall?”
“Yassar’s in a dialogue with the three main dissident leaders, and he’s willing to lean on King Abdul about reforms, hopefully enough to get this thing defused. He’ll have plenty of money for it. I did the oil deal with Yassar. It’s $250 billion for as much oil as we can’t produce ourselves for 30 years, with a price escalation of 4% per year. How did you swing the money?”
“I told you earlier. The Federal Reserve. They don’t report to anybody, and I’ve known Bernanke for years. He jumped at the opportunity. Two to three hundred billion for an assured supply of oil at a reasonable price for the indefinite future. Who wouldn’t?” Ross paused. “What about the sheik, Qahtani?”
“The Saudi royals disappeared him, I’m sure never to be heard from again.”
“And your man inside the al-Mujari?”
“Looks like he’ll be staying put as a senior member of the organization.”
“That’d be quite a coup for you.”
“For all of us.”
The next morning the embassy car took Sasha directly to the Royal Palace. Two Royal Guards nodded with recognition and allowed her to pass into Yassar’s private quarters. She knocked on the door to his study, then entered. Yassar hadn’t arrived yet, but one of the servants had left a silver tray with a pot of tea and two cups and saucers. She sat down in the chair across from his armchair, taking in the faint aroma of its leather, the wool of the rug, and Yassar’s familiar scent.
Five minutes later Yassar walked through the door.
“Yassar,” she said, feeling her emotions rise. She crossed the room to him, threw her arms around him.
He hugged her, then pressed her head to his chest.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
She leaned back and looked into his eyes. “Yes. A little banged up, but I’m fine.”
His eyes looked tired, his face drawn. She felt guilty, certain some of the stress that had caused it was over her. Dear Yassar. She ushered him into his chair, then knelt beside the table in front of him and poured them both tea. They kept away from the subject of the events of the last weeks, talking about the plant
ings he was planning for the gardens, his eldest daughter’s ambitions to attend college, how the younger children were doing.
A half hour later, he said, “I gather you’ll be leaving soon.”
She smiled. He always seemed to know her mind. “Yes, I still have some things to think through.”
He nodded and sipped his second cup of tea.
A moment later she decided the time was right. She stood, walked to him and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be in touch, I promise.”
Sasha didn’t show up at the embassy until late that morning. Tom, Zac, Seth and Ryan were assembled in the conference room. She noticed duffel bags on the floor.
“Going someplace?” she asked Seth.
“Our job here is done. Back to our team, new assignment,” Seth said.
“Right away?”
“We’re already late,” Zac said. “We were just waiting to say good-bye to you.”
“I’d have been crushed if you hadn’t waited.” She hugged and kissed them both. Her voice quavered as she said, “Thank you. I knew you were back there. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
They left.
“And I’m staying here,” Ryan said.
Sasha hugged and kissed him good-bye.
Sasha dozed for the first hour of the flight with Tom on the CIA Learjet. She felt overwhelmed by the last weeks, and by the reflections forced on her by the circumstances. Admittedly, circumstances she’d thrust herself into, but as it always seemed to go in her life, ones she needed to adapt to rather than try to control.
She’d wondered who she was without Daniel, and now realized she hadn’t needed to; she was the same person as always, just clear about it, and now just unclear about what direction her life would take.
Tom said, “You’re awake. I was beginning to think you’d sleep all the way home.” Then, before she could respond, he added, “Well, maybe not home, but back to the States.”