Sabotage

by C. G. Cooper

  A rattle of gunfire sounded from the back of the house, and there was a scream of pain from one of the bodyguards, no doubt. There was more rifle fire, and now President Farah, the grandfather and Daniel were crouched down in a defensive position. Daniel was about to suggest that they find a way out when an explosion rocked the entire building. The next second, the only thing Daniel saw was the concrete roof caving downward and falling on top of their bodies.

  Chapter 22

  Vince came to slowly, like his brain was wading through a field of molasses. He couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten there. The first word that came to his mind was Karl. Where was Karl?

  His eyes blinked open and then shut just as fast. He could feel a presence now; someone was near him. But while his inherent scanner was working, his body wasn't, so he kept his eyes closed, patiently waiting for his body’s sensations to return. And return they did; this time with a vengeance.

  It started with tingling, first all along his torso, then spreading down his legs, up his shoulders and down his arms, until finally there was a stabbing pain at the end of each of his fingers and toes. It felt like someone was poking needles in the ends of his hands and feet, shoving them ever deeper until they hit bone.

  But Vince still wouldn’t move. He tried to focus on taking calm breaths in and out and imagined himself on the rifle range, preparing for a long shot. That seemed to do the trick, as if his body was the rifle, and his inhales of oxygen were dampening it down to perfect stillness.

  "I know you're awake," came a voice he didn't recognize. "Open your eyes if you'd like."

  There was a hint of an Asian accent there, but so slight that he couldn't determine the dialect.

  Vince eased his eyelids open, allowing the dim light to pierce his raw senses. He blinked repeatedly until finally the room cleared. There was a man standing in the corner, sipping on a can of Coca Cola. Vince's mouth watered at the sight, but then he realized who the man was. He was the foreigner from the camp who had taken him and Karl after plunging needles into their necks.

  "Where am I?" Vince asked, though his voice was just barely above a whisper. His throat felt raw and dry. He found himself glancing at the can of Coke in the man's hand. What he wouldn't give for one deep gulp.

  "You're being held," the man said. “Don't worry. You've been treated well. Would you like to see?"

  Vince tried to move his head, and that was when he realized his entire body was restrained. He carefully checked his limbs, pressing firmly against the canvas straps, but they wouldn't budge.

  "Here, let me help you," the man said, grabbing something from a table and bringing it over. It was a mirror. He held it up so Vince could see himself.

  They'd shaved him. Gone was the scraggly beard and long hair, replaced with a neat high and tight haircut and a perfect shave. He now looked like what he was - an army colonel.

  "Your body is the same," the man said. "You've been scrubbed and cleaned, and you will fully recover from the effects of the narcotics. I must say, for a man of your age, you are in peak physical condition."

  "Where is my friend?"

  "Oh, he will be along shortly. They're just finishing up his bath. I am sure you're hungry. Would you like something to eat?"

  "No."

  "Something to drink? Maybe one of these?" The man held up the can of Coke.

  "No," Vince stated again.

  "Very well. As you can see, you have an intravenous line, and you have been given fluids and nutrients during your stay. Feel free to hold out. It's of no concern to me.”

  Vince's eyes roamed around part of the room he could actually see. At first he thought he was in some kind of concrete building, maybe a bunker, but when he looked closer, the walls still had the telltale vein of wood that had been painted.

  "So tell me, how difficult is your training? Is it like they say, only the toughest and smartest can make it through as a Delta operator?"

  Vince didn’t let his emotions show.

  "Are you sure?" the Asian asked.

  Vince did not answer.

  "Come now, Colonel. I thought we'd have a little conversation before the fun begins. What do you say? One elite warrior to another."

  "What do you want to know?" Vince asked.

  "I have always been curious. In my country it is said that Americans would never be a match for my countrymen. I am obviously not that naïve. So you could imagine my excitement when I was told that I would have the opportunity to speak with not one, but two, Special Operations Detachment Delta operators. So please tell me, Colonel Vince Sweeney, did you always know that you wanted to be a counterterrorism specialist?"

  Vince didn't like the fact that the man obviously knew who he was. How the hell had that happened? But he couldn't worry about that now. It was far better to keep the man engaged.

  "When I was growing up I wanted to be a dentist," Vince said. "Have you ever seen the movie, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?"

  The Asian man shook his head.

  "Well, you see, there's this little elf in there, right? Elves help get all the toys ready for Christmas for all the kids. Well, anyway, so this elf doesn't want to be an elf. He doesn't want to make toys. He wants to be a dentist. Wouldn't you know, I must have watched that movie a hundred times, and that made me want to become a dentist."

  The Asian man was frowning now. "Your level of sarcasm will not help your situation, Colonel."

  "Oh, come on. You can call me Vince. Hell, you've probably seen me naked." Vince grinned at the man's obvious discomfiture. "Oh, I get it. You liked it. You liked seeing me naked. Hmmm.”

  The man turned away and set his can of Coke on a table. "I will bring in your friend, Karl Schneider. And I suggest you convince one another to play by the same sheet of music."

  "Oh, yippee," Vince said. "We get to play music? I like music, too. When I was a teenager I stopped wanting to be a dentist. I wanted to be a rock and roll star. Please, when do we get to play music?"

  The man shook his head, as if dealing with a petulant child who would never learn wrong from right.

  "Talk to your friend, Colonel Sweeney. How you behave in the coming hours will decide whether you will ever see your home again."

  Chapter 23

  It was morning now, and Djibouti City was starting to stir. Cal didn’t know what the secret was, but somehow its citizens knew it was safe to go about their lives. Cal asked Christian about it, and all the response he got was a shrug, as if carrying on with your day after a military coup was normal.

  But it turned out to be the perfect cover. As the crowd swelled, walking out of stores with groceries, it was easy to melt in with the rest of the pack. So off went the remainder of their group: Cal, Christian, Dr. Higgins, and Liberty, of course. She was on a leash, and she didn’t seem to like that fact. It was either that or get even more curious stares from onlookers. They were a mismatched group as it was, and the last thing Cal wanted was to attract further attention.

  Dr. Higgins gave Christian a few dollars to pick up some food, and he returned five minutes later with an assortment of pastries that were devoured in short order.

  “The owner said there may not be a curfew tonight,” Christian said between bites.

  “Did he say why?” Cal asked.

  “One of the other customers seemed to think that it was all over — that whatever happened has been fixed. So that’s good, right?”

  “What would be good is if I could use my cell phone again,” Cal said. “I still have no signal, and from the looks of things, everybody else is in the same boat.”

  It had taken Cal a couple of blocks to figure out what was different. Then he realized that nobody was talking on phones. Nobody was looking at their cell phone screens, playing video games or texting. It was like they had time traveled back to the early 90s. The technology tether had snapped for however long those in power decided that the people shouldn’t have a voice.

  The sun was just peeking out over the buildings, b
ut it was already hot. Dr. Higgins was sweating like an ice cube on a hotplate, but he never complained, taking careful sips of water as they walked.

  “Let’s take a cab,” Cal suggested.

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Higgins asked.

  “Looks like plenty of other people are doing it,” Cal answered.

  And they were. Just ahead, a mom and her two children stepped into a cab. Cal could see the relief on Higgins’s face, and he wondered if it had been advisable bringing him along. The good doctor was phenomenal in his chosen field, but he wasn’t a field guy. There was nothing wrong with that — you either were or you weren’t. On a normal day, Cal would rather have Dr. Higgins at his side over twenty other operators, but this wasn’t a normal day. Higgins was one of his men — his responsibility. So while Christian hailed the cab, Cal said, “Hey doc, I’ve been thinking; why don’t you take the cab back to the embassy and see if you can find Top and Gaucho?”

  Dr. Higgins turned and leveled Cal with a glare that he had never seen before, at least not from Dr. Higgins.

  “Calvin, that sounds like you’re trying to get me out of the way. Have I already become a liability?”

  “No, Doc, I— “

  “Well, good. Then we’ll go back to the embassy together, after this is done.”

  Cal could have ordered him to go, if he’d wanted, but he had to trust that Higgins knew his own limits. Now that he thought about it, Doc had worked in the field at one point, and without Daniel at his side, Cal realized he was more than happy to have the doctor’s counsel.

  So, the three men accompanied, by the ever faithful dog, hopped into a cab. Higgins didn’t say a word. Cal watched him in the side mirror, relishing the cool air blasting out of the vents angled toward his face. Christian and the cab driver struck up a conversation in what Cal now understood was Somali. They chattered on as they drove through the winding streets.

  Cal really couldn’t believe how many people were out. It reminded him of that first sunny day after winter when you got to step outside to enjoy your newfound freedom. There were people gathered in groups chatting among themselves because no longer did they have the use of their phones. Cal didn’t know whether to view this as a comfort or foreboding, like the calm prior to the storm. What would have dictated the easing of the military stranglehold? Maybe the international community had gotten involved? Cal would’ve given anything for a two-minute news report, although that was something he usually spurned.

  “He says the camp’s up ahead,” Christian said.

  “Yes, yes!” the driver said, excitedly, pointing up ahead.

  “Can you stop here?” Cal asked.

  “Yes, yes!” the driver said, pulling curbside. When they had gotten out, and Christian was about to pay, Cal asked, “Will you see if he can stick around? We might need him again. I don’t see any other cabs driving in this area.”

  The bargaining was quick, and after handing the driver an extra bill, the driver put the vehicle in park and waved to them happily, as if saying, “Have fun storming the castle!”

  The camp was surrounded by chain-link fencing topped with spirals of concertina wire. There were still mounds of dirt where the posts had been set in the ground.

  “Someone put this thing up in a hurry,” Cal observed.

  “The driver said it’s been here two days,” Christian offered.

  Not bad for two days, Cal thought.

  The place was roughly the size of a small community college campus. There was one large structure in the middle that looked like some kind of sewage treatment facility, but other than that, there were lines of four-man tents with the door flaps waving in the early morning breeze.

  As they moved around, they caught sight of roving patrols, but they didn’t pay the group outside the fence any attention. When they cut around the corner of the encampment, more temporary facilities came into view. These looked like wooden huts with sturdy gray walls. Air-conditioning units were chugging along, bleeding as much power as they could from the gas generators they were hooked up to.

  Then they saw the first prisoners. There was a group of eight escorted by four soldiers. Five prisoners had the light complexions of Europeans; the other three looked to be from the local region. It struck Cal as odd that only one of the eight prisoners had his head downcast. The others actually looked like they were having a good time. A couple were even smiling and chatting away, like they were on a Sunday stroll with friends. The soldiers looked serious, but not too intimidating.

  For Cal, it all had the feel of the movie Red Dawn, the original one from the 80s. In that one, when the Soviets and the Cubans invaded the U.S., they established encampments for American civilians. Inside, life went on under gunpoint. Cal couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of replica of that same scenario.

  “What do you think, Doc?” Cal asked.

  “They don’t appear to be mistreated. Either they know they’re getting out soon, or this place isn’t quite what we thought,” Higgins said.

  As if the universe had reached down to slap the words right out of his mouth, Cal watched in amazement as three of the prisoners, in fact, the ones that had been chatting a moment earlier, turned on their captors, and tried to wrench the guns from their hands. Two succeeded, while the third struggled. The rest of the prisoners just stood there, open-mouthed, until the fourth soldier panicked and started firing.

  One empty-handed prisoner went down as the soldier’s rounds pounded into his stomach and walked up to his neck. The others dropped to the ground to avoid being shot, and then one of the newly-armed prisoners turned and shot the firing soldier. He fell back, finger still locked on the trigger, firing bullets into the air.

  The whole episode took less than five seconds, but the gunfire awoke the sleepy camp. As Cal and his friends ran for cover, Cal watched over his shoulder as more armed soldiers ran from the line of tents, rushing to join the fight. The prisoners didn’t have a chance. Cal wished he could help them, but it was too far away, and the force was overwhelming. They put up a good fight, and must have been trained military, maybe even some kind of Special Forces, because they fought to the last, even as more rounds pounded in.

  Finally, a heavy machine gun mounted on top of a Humvee, rushed into the fray. The last man standing actually shot the man firing the machine gun in the head, and yelled something at the oncoming forces. Cal couldn’t hear what it was, and then it seemed, as if on cue, the entire mass fired in unison, silencing the man forever.

  Dr. Higgins was huffing and puffing next to him, but when Cal looked in his eyes, he saw only grim determination.

  “We have to do something, Calvin.”

  Cal was about to ask Higgins how in the world he planned to do that, but Christian spoke up first.

  “Cal, I have a plan. We should get back to the city before anyone sees us.”

  At that moment, Cal felt like he was rooted to that spot. For some reason - call it warrior instinct - he now knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that Vince and Karl were in that camp. What I wouldn’t pay for a platoon of rangers right now, Cal thought, and then he turned to lead the way back to the city, but before he could take another step, he was greeted by a ghostlike face. His weapon rose to greet the apparition.

  The ghost smiled at Cal. “Fingers straight and off the trigger unless you intend to shoot, Boss.” It was Daniel’s voice and now Cal recognized his friend. He was covered in what looked like gray dust from head-to-toe. He wasn’t alone; Christian’s grandfather was there, and he walked over to hug Christian. There was another man he didn’t recognize, at least not at first.

  “Cal, this is President Farah,” Daniel said.

  And that’s when it clicked. What the hell was Daniel doing here with the president of Djibouti? The man was leaning heavily on a cane.

  “Did you see what happened, Mr. President?” Cal asked, meaning the shootout at the prisoner encampment.

  President Farah nodded. “I must do something a
bout it. They think I’m dead, but thanks to your friend, I’m not.”

  The grandfather walked over and patted Daniel on the shoulder as if to say, “See, I told you this one would come in handy.”

  “I have an idea,” Christian said.

  Rather than look down at the boy, and treat him like a child, President Farah asked, “What is your idea, Christian?”

  They all listened, and while Cal thought it was ludicrous, bordering on suicide, the rest of the men nodded, even Daniel.

  “Very well,” Farah said. “Let us see if we can put your plan into action.”

  The decision was made, and Cal felt like he was being swept away in a sandstorm of craziness.