“Thing is, those weren’t regular MANPADs . We had the latest electronic and IR countermeasures on that aircraft. The birdie is a gen-four system, and the only the very latest Stinger missiles, like the FIM-92J, can defeat that system.
“What doesn’t make sense is that only the US and our most trusted NATO allies have advanced Stingers. If the US provided them to the Kurds, we’d know about it. Besides us and maybe the Brits, nobody else in this country should have ’em.”
Sachse’s explanation of the engagement was making Pat paranoid. When Migos got back, Pat told both Migos and Sachse that they were going to make this a tactical linkup with the advisors. Pat picked out some high-ground for Migos and Sachse to overwatch the linkup three hundred yards from the crash site. He told them both to have their weapons ready to engage in case something went wrong.
Pat then put an orange VS-17 panel on a piece of burned-out debris close to where the cockpit was destroyed to mark the linkup point, and he stood nearby. He released the retention strap on his holster and made sure his pistol had a round chambered. He kept his M4 carbine slung over his shoulder, not wanting to appear hostile to the friendlies he hoped were coming to pick them up.
Half an hour later, Pat got a call over the radio from Migos. “Rooster tails from a three-vehicle convoy are approaching.”
Pat followed the dust trails until the vehicles came close enough to see. The road they were on must have turned in the wrong direction because the vehicles turned off the road and headed cross country, toward Pat’s location. The smoke from the burning Hercules made finding them easy. Pat stood near the bright orange VS-17 panel with his weapon on his shoulder and watched the vehicles approach. When they got to within a quarter of a mile, he could see the vehicles were American M1151 armored HMMWVs with .50-caliber machine guns mounted on top. The vehicles approached in column. When they got within seventy-five yards, they stopped.
Pat walked forward to the lead vehicle. A bandanna-wearing .50-caliber gunner in the cupola followed him with his weapon. Suddenly, his head exploded, and Pat heard the report from a rifle discharge. He dove for cover behind the small sandy knoll to his right, where he’d stashed his gear. The gunners in the two rear HMMWVs were spraying machine-gun fire at the general area from where they had heard the shot.
Pat dug into the bag and retrieved a M72 LAW (light antitank weapon). He extended it, removed the safety, popped off the top cover, and launched the rocket at the closest HMMWV just as a replacement gunner was emerging into the cupola. The 66mm rocket-propelled charge detonated on impact, and the HMMWV exploded in a fireball. Meanwhile, the gunners from the second and third HMMWVs were slumped forward against their weapons, shot by Migos and Sachse. Pat pulled an M67 frag grenade from a pouch on his plate carrier. Baseball was a lifetime passion of his, and he had a pretty good arm. As soon as he had the grenade in his hand, he flicked off the safety and pulled the pin. While holding down the spoon with his right thumb, he raced toward the second HMMWV.
With his rifle in his left hand and the grenade in his right, Pat got to within twenty yards and tossed the grenade, then dove forward, flat onto the ground. It was a perfect throw, and two seconds after the grenade fell through the cupola hatch, it exploded into a ball of flame. The third HMMWV was still gunner-less and getting pinged by bullets from Migos and Sachse. After the second HMMWV exploded, the third did a rapid turnaround and raced back toward the road.
The route back to the road brought the vehicle within a hundred yards of Migos and Sachse. They were ready, and both fired M72 rockets at nearly the same time. The first went high, the second connected with the hood of HMMWV, and the front end of the vehicle erupted in flame. Pat saw a door of the disabled HMMWV open and a figure emerge. The figure was quickly cut down by a rifle shot from the overwatch position. When a second figure staggered out of the burning HMMWV, Pat yelled into his radio for Migos and Sachse to stop firing—they needed a prisoner.
Pat dropped his rifle, helmet and plate carrier and went after the lone enemy who was scurrying away. He chased after him as he tried to get away in an awkward limping gait. It took only a few minutes at a full run to close within fifty yards of the figure. Pat was breathing hard and in a full sweat. The enemy was wounded and starting to slow. He glanced back at Pat and increased his effort, despite the injuries. When Pat got to within twenty yards, he drew his pistol from the drop-leg holster on his right thigh. He stopped, steadied himself in a firing position, took aim, and fired three rounds into the legs of the fleeing assailant. The man went down facefirst into the desert sand. With his weapon still drawn, Pat walked cautiously toward him. The man was wearing a coyote-brown body armor vest over his desert camouflage fatigues, and Pat couldn’t see his hands. When he was ten yards from reaching the prostrate figure, the man suddenly rolled over to his left with a pistol in his right hand. Pat reflexively pulled the trigger twice, hitting the man in the face and killing him instantly.
Pat searched the body and found absolutely nothing—no cell phone, wallet, or identification of any kind. The dead man was well groomed, short, and physically fit. He was a tough guy, running hurt and fighting to the end. Pat was curious about the man; his build, sterile uniform, and behavior had the markings of a professional, which was not an ISIS trait. He thought of taking a photo of the face, but there wasn’t enough left to identify.
Pat walked back and retrieved his gear; Migos and Sachse were already there.
“How did you guys know they were hostile?” Pat asked.
“Easy, boss. I was talking to Captain Fowler from the SF team, and he told me they were going to pick us up in two Land Cruisers.”
“Migos, don’t you think that’s something you should have shared with me on the radio while I was standing out in the open, big, dumb, and ignorant, to greet them?”
“No time, boss, I just had to go with it.”
Pat asked, “What’s the status on the pickup? We may have to escape and evade before more hostiles show up.”
“I think I see them now, Stay cool. We have a ride out of here,” replied Migos.
While they were waiting for the vehicles to arrive, Pat used a cell phone and called Mike Guthrie.
“I just lost two of my guys. I was strap-hanging on a delivery into Erbil, and the bad guys shot my plane out of the sky with missiles. It was another ambush, only this time from the air.”
“This is escalating. Anything else?” Mike asked.
“The plane had the latest countermeasures, Sachse says it had to be the latest US ordnance that was used against us, an advanced Stinger. Both of my pilots were killed. I’m still at the site, three miles west of Erbil International. While we were waiting for extraction, we were attacked again, this time by three armored HMMWVs. We destroyed all three, and we were unable to capture a prisoner.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“With everything going on in Mosul, we have a lot of assets in the area. I’ll get a team to investigate the site,” said Mike.
“Okay, and I have another request. I’m going to need some help recovering the remains of my pilots. I’ll have to notify the families, and it will be a little bit easier on them if I can at least return the bodies.”
“What are you going to do about the plane?” asked Mike.
“I’m going to have to lease one for a while until I can replace it. The cargo will be replaced as soon as we can get it reloaded from Ukraine. They have huge stockpiles of the stuff. The mission will go on, but it’s not business anymore. It’s war,” Pat said.
“I’ll be in touch just as soon as I know something,” said Mike.
Once at Erbil International, Pat arranged a charter back to Abu Dhabi. The timing of the boat attack and air attack was too precise. Some actor in the UAE was definitely providing information to the ambushers. Pat was definitely under surveillance by someone who meant him harm. Once he got back to Abu Dhabi, it wouldn’t take long for the bad guys to learn they h
ad once again failed.
While seated at the Erbil airport food court, eating a McDonald’s Big Mac, Migos asked, “What happens next, boss?”
Pat explained, “When we get back, I’ll call both wives, I’ll attend both funerals, and I’ll make sure they get the death gratuity all of you have been promised. You’re both encouraged to attend the funerals. As for work, after a couple of weeks, you’ll rotate with the other crew until I can replace the aircraft. We work for the US government, and the work we’re doing is important. This was a catastrophe today, no doubt, but the work continues, and if you still want it, you still have a part to play.”
The taciturn Sachse responded, “I’m in,” to which Migos replied, “Well, I better stay on and look after Grandpa. Without me, I don’t know what would happen to the old guy. Probably find him wandering around in the desert, babbling incoherently, lost, wearing one of those old people nightgowns. Speaking of old people, boss, you’re not too bad to have around in a fight.”
“Thanks, Muey Muey. Coming from you, that means a lot.”
Chapter 17
Alexandria, Virginia
Pat was seated in the gunfighter’s seat in the back of the narrow dining room of the Warehouse Bar & Grill located on King Street in Old Town Alexandria. The Old Town tourist area was lined with small upscale restaurants and antique shops. The quaint restaurant was an unlikely spot for a clandestine meeting between a senior CIA agent and his asset, which, knowing Mike, was probably the reason he had chosen it.
Pat had arrived fifteen minutes early, at seven fifteen, and the maître d’ had seated him without delay as the restaurant was still mostly empty. Pat had ordered a bottle of chardonnay and was enjoying a glass of Jeff Gordon 2012 that was chilled and surprisingly good. The waitress, who had introduced herself as Carlie, was a vivacious ponytailed blonde with a very pretty face and a flirty demeanor. If her behavior was contrived to increase tips, it was going to work. The dinner rush had yet to arrive, which gave Carlie and Pat a lot of time to chat. Without too much prompting, he learned she was single, living in Alexandria alone, and working on a master’s degree in international affairs at Georgetown. Spending so much time in the Middle East, where many of the women were horribly repressed, had given Pat a much better appreciation for the wholesome good looks, refreshing openness, and confidence of the American female. It was a shame they always broke his heart.
Mike arrived and slipped into the seat across from Pat. The smiling solicitous waitress poured him a glass of wine. Mike took a sip and nodded his approval. He was still dressed in a suit and tie while Pat was wearing jeans and a loose black turtleneck. Carley came back and took their orders. Pat ordered the she-crab soup and the halibut, and Mike went with the crab cakes and a filet mignon. It was an excellent meal. They spent the time talking sports and family, with Pat enjoying the ambience and the conversation.
Realizing that time was getting short, as soon as the waitress cleared the table, Pat shifted the conversation to the matter at hand.
“What do we know about the people who killed my pilots?”
“We found the launch containers and traced the serial numbers on the Stinger missiles. That led us to a German unit in Mazari Sharif, Afghanistan, who reported them captured in 2015. The trail went cold after that.”
“What about the vehicles and personnel involved in the attack?”
“The vehicles were turned over to the Iraqi government by us in 2009 and captured by ISIS when they were abandoned by the Iraqi Army in 2012. The personnel we could identify were a mixture of Tunisians, Iraqis, and Kuwaiti jihadis.”
“What about that guy who was trying to get away? He had some training.”
“He did. His name was Abdul-Rahman Al Ghaneem. He was US-trained Special Forces, a major in the Kuwait National Guard before he ran away and joined ISIS. He was high level in the caliphate. Our intel suggests he was one of the top guys, working directly for the caliph.”
“Am I being hunted?”
“Most likely, yes. We have a team of analysts whose only task is to get to the bottom of these two attacks. They have a few leads and are developing a working theory on the reason behind the attacks.”
“Are both attacks from the same source, or is it just a coincidence that Iran and ISIS decided to off me at roughly the same time?”
“You don’t have that many enemies. At this stage, we’re operating on the assumption it’s a single threat. Someone with the ability to utilize the Iranians and the ISIS fighters as proxies.”
“Maybe I need a Dale Carnegie class on winning friends and influencing people.”
“You don’t need any help in the influencing people department. The task force of analysts we formed to work your case is calling themselves the double-O section. Those guys and gals have been poring over your every movement, past and present. You’re becoming a cult figure. Despite the image, Langley is a boring place filled with boring people, and the way you live and the things you do are much more in line with how the office staff see the life of a covert agent.”
“Covert agent? I thought I was hired help.”
“You’re an NOC, Pat. Completely off the books, one of our more valuable assets.”
“Wow, I made the big time. That must be why everybody wants to kill me.”
“Dr. Schneeberger didn’t help matters. You spent a week on the couch being shrunk by the coldest fish in the pond, and our highly trained professional psychiatrist returned to base acting like a blushing bride. Listening to her gush about you is painful.”
“I have a lot of unreconciled emotional issues that women, especially shrinks like Stephanie, find very compelling.”
“No doubt. So, do you want to hear about our working theory?” asked Mike.
The perky waitress stepped forward and poured the last of the wine. Pat signaled for a second bottle. She smiled and walked away. It was turning into a pleasant evening. Pat was reassured that Mike was looking out for him, and if the body language from Carlie the waitress was any indication, his string of bad luck was coming to an end.
“Can you fill me in on what your team has come up with?”
“We have some conclusions that should affect your behavior in the near future. There is no way either the attack on your yacht or the attack on your plane could have been coordinated without help from someone inside the UAE government. In both cases, they had to know when you were departing, your route, and your destination. This is all information that was closely held, especially for the C-130 delivery. The most likely source was UAE intelligence.”
“You think UAE intelligence is after me?”
“Not necessarily, we just believe that someone in UAE intel with access to the routine collection on your movements and communications is providing that info to your hunter. We don’t know if it’s an official UAE intel operation.”
The waitress returned with a second bottle of white wine and fresh glasses. Pat was beginning to feel a warm glow; the restaurant was full, and the atmosphere had a positive vibe with the buzzing conversations of the customers and fast-paced movements of the staff.
“I don’t see how that information is helpful. What else do you have?” Pat said.
“We used fingerprints to identify Ghaneem, the Kuwaiti who was trying to escape. He was a very bad man. He was the guy above Jihadi John and the rest of those savages who filmed all those executions during the ISIS heyday. Ghaneem went to the Q course and even the Marine Corps Staff College before he became a jihadi. We’ve been requesting more information on him from the Kuwait government, but we’re being stonewalled.”
“This is getting interesting.”
“The Trident operation is supported by the UAE government at the highest levels, so there’s no way the UAE government is trying to kill you. That said, the likely connections to the UAE and Kuwaiti government cannot be overlooked. Our working theory is the existence of a rogue element within UAE and Kuwait that wants to put Trident out of business by killing you.”
/> “That doesn’t make sense. The Iranians would never support either UAE or Kuwait, and I was definitely attacked by the Iranians.”
“The US Navy intercepts just about every radio call in the Persian Gulf and records most Iranian military traffic. From what little we were able to capture, we believe those fast boats were sent to intercept a drug runner. The UAE has a large Iranian population in Dubai, mostly in the Deira area, involved in all sorts of smuggling and contraband. The UAE government has back channels to the Iranian government, and we believe a channel was used to misidentify you as a drug smuggler, which caused them to respond and go after you.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have a working theory for why someone with power from UAE or Kuwait would want to shut down the Trident operation?”
“Not exactly. There are three possibilities for motivation. It could be anti-Kurd, it could be pro-ISIS, or it could be something far more complicated.”
“In the Middle East, the most complicated answer is usually the right one. It’s the corollary to Occam’s razor. What’s next?”
“We have your back. Carry on the same as before, but stay off the cargo delivery runs and remain hypervigilant.”
“I just bought a replacement plane. Carrying on was never in question.”
“You must have gotten a pretty quick turnaround on that insurance payment.”
“When I bought the planes, the insurance companies turned me down when I told them where we would be flying. I just have to suck it up as an expensive penance for getting those two guys killed.”
What Pat liked about Mike was that he didn’t go through the faux drama of trying to convince Pat that he hadn’t gotten his guys killed.
“Once we figure out the culprit, or culprits, I won’t go off half-cocked. Whoever had the stroke to pull off those last two attacks is a heavy hitter, so we’re going to have to be very careful.” Which was Pat’s way of saying, “Hey, if you know who did this, you can share it with me. I won’t do anything stupid without your approval.”
Arabian Deception Page 13