by Isaac Hooke
"So what's the plan?" William said quietly, when they entered the hall.
"We make our way to Kobane, fuck up the Islamic State on the way to the front lines, then surrender to the Kurds."
"Sounds easy," William deadpanned.
Outside, Ethan led them to where he had hidden the two bodies. William and Aaron pilfered the boots and weapons of the dead men.
"Look at this." Aaron held up a harness in the dim light, revealing the five RGD-5 fragmentation grenades it contained. "I found me some Easter eggs."
Sharing Aaron between them, Ethan and William hurried onward. They kept to the shadows, avoiding the night patrols, making their way toward the outskirts of town.
The trio reached an intersection. Distant, muffled Arabic drifted to them from beyond the bend.
Staying in cover behind the nearest home, Ethan released Aaron, leaned past the edge, and raised Beast's scope to eye level. The NV clip-on presented everything in a greenish-black hue. The reticule in the Leupold Mark 4 day optic was unaffected; the beaded cross hairs appeared as a black overlay.
The dim glow provided by the rooftop blazes provided ample illumination for the NV, which auto-gated as the scope passed over brighter areas. He spotted a handful of militants two blocks to the north, guarding a checkpoint that led in and out of the village. The men lounged in front of a pair of Iraqi Army M1114 Up-Armored Humvees.
Ethan and his fellow operatives had two options. Circumvent the checkpoint and continue toward Kobane on foot, which could take all night. Or steal a Humvee.
He chose the latter option.
* * *
Suleman made his way back to the house where Wolf Company billeted. Beside him marched Fida'a. The loyal holy warrior had followed him at a distance as instructed, and kept watch on the building where Suleman had taken Emad. When the American spy had emerged alone, Fida'a had entered and cut Suleman free.
His nose throbbed. The blood loss made him weak, dizzy. It was difficult to evade the night patrol in his condition, but somehow he managed. He had refused to allow Fida'a to help him walk—he was acting emir, and must appear strong. He supposed he should visit the infirmary, but he wanted to deal with Emad first. He had already decided he would execute the kaffir in the house, in front of the unit if need-be, consequences be damned.
Assuming Emad was actually there.
At the barracks Suleman took back the M16A4 he had given Fida'a earlier. He also yanked the knife from Fida'a's belt.
His friend regarded him questioningly.
"I only need it for a little while, brother," Suleman whispered.
He went inside, the cold, black steel in hand. Suleman shone his flashlight from face to face as he roamed the house, but the kaffir was not present. No matter.
He returned the knife to Fida'a but kept the A4. He went to his belongings and retrieved the laptop secreted there. It had a GSM card and was loaded with Stingray software, allowing Suleman to track nearby active cellphones. No one knew he had that ability, not even Abdullah, who believed Suleman carried an ordinary laptop.
The offline map of the village appeared on screen. In the search field, Suleman entered the serial number he had recorded from Emad's Android phone earlier.
There.
Emad was on the north side of the village, close to the courthouse. He was moving northwest. Had he freed the other spies? It didn't matter. Suleman would terminate them, too.
He closed the laptop, leaving it turned on, then went to the kitchen. When he had brought Abdullah to the field hospital earlier, Suleman had borrowed a US-made autoinjector along with a couple of vials of epinephrine. He retrieved them from the cupboards and considered injecting himself right there, but pocketed the device instead. It wouldn't do to die from cardiac arrest before he had Emad in his sights.
Suleman started for the front door.
"Where are you going?" Fida'a said.
"I have a score to settle with our good friend Emad."
"I go with you." Fida'a retrieved his AK. The man had no love for the infidel.
Suleman considered bringing along additional members of the unit, but that would only make it more difficult to skirt the night patrol. Besides, he wanted Emad for himself. He glanced at Fida'a. His friend would be more than enough.
"Come then, brother, we go hunting."
* * *
Ethan approached the checkpoint alone.
One of the militants spotted him immediately and raised an AK. "Why are you out past curfew?" The man had a thick Roman nose.
Ethan lifted his hands in surrender. "I am a courier."
"A courier?"
"Yes. I bring a message far too sensitive to be delivered over ordinary radio."
Roman-Nose frowned. "Well let's hear it, then."
One of the Humvees started up.
"Hey!" another militant shouted.
The Humvee sped away.
Three of the fighters hurried inside the remaining Humvee and drove off in pursuit. Roman-Nose and another militant stayed behind.
Roman-Nose narrowed his eyes at Ethan. "You did this."
"I swear, I—" Ethan fell to his knees, clutching at his belly, though none of the fighters had touched him. Saliva spilled from his mouth. He collapsed, face-up, to stare unblinking into the smoke-covered sky.
Roman-Nose kicked him in the ribs; Ethan flinched but didn't otherwise move. Roman-Nose glanced uncertainly at the other mujahid... a third figure emerged from the shadows behind them and a pistol report echoed twice into the night. Blood spurted from the heads of both militants and they crumpled.
Ethan clambered to his feet, gripping his throbbing ribs.
"Nice acting," William said.
"Thanks." He glanced toward the village, worried the two shots would empty any nearby barracks or at the very least attract the night patrols, but the neighborhood remained lifeless. It helped that the firecracker-like shelling noises from Kobane were peaking at the moment.
Ethan and William quickly dragged the corpses behind the nearest building and then sprinted out of the village.
"Any trouble loading Aaron into the Humvee?" Ethan asked as he ran.
"None whatsoever."
Chatter erupted over the radio. "A Humvee has been stolen from checkpoint three. We are in pursuit. Requesting assistance!"
He exchanged a worried glance with William and dashed on.
Following the road, they soon came upon an interesting scene.
A Humvee was situated in the middle of the street, with another Humvee parked behind it. The engines of both vehicles were off. Three militants warily approached the first vehicle. One of them carried a flashlight.
Ethan and William dropped. Letting the darkness conceal him, Ethan aimed Beast at the tangos: the militants appeared as dark green smudges. He centered the crosshairs over the mujahid who carried the flashlight, and the NV clip-on auto-gated to compensate for the brightness.
He fired.
He worked the bolt, which ejected the spent shell casing and loaded another cartridge into the chamber, but before he could line up his next shot a pistol sounded twice—the muzzle flash came from the driver-side window of the farthest Humvee. Both of the remaining militants toppled.
Ethan and William approached.
Aaron abruptly sat up in the driver seat and waved a Makarov, singing, "He stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni."
* * *
Suleman was running. He held his laptop under one arm, trying to ignore the jolts of pain each footfall inflicted upon his smashed nose, but it was difficult. He was beginning to feel dizzy all over again.
Moments ago he had heard an ominous report issue from the road beyond the checkpoint. It had sounded like a high-powered sniper rifle going off, the kind of crack an M24 might make. Two more quick pops had followed it in rapid succession.
Emad.
He strove to increase his pace, but the dizziness was starting to get to him. Fida'a pulled ahead.
"Abu-Fid
a'a, slow down!" Suleman shouted, not wanting to lose his loyal holy warrior so early in the game. "Abu-Fida'a!"
But the man ignored him.
Suleman finally caught up to Fida'a. The man had stopped beside an abandoned Humvee. Three militants lay motionless in front of it, illuminated by a flashlight one of them had probably dropped.
Suleman and Fida'a cleared the Humvee with their rifles, then Fida'a checked the bodies.
"Dead," he said.
Suleman placed the laptop on the hood of the M1114 and studied the display. Emad was moving away rapidly to the north.
Suleman closed the device and plunked himself down in the Humvee's driver side while Fida'a took shotgun. He handed the portable computer across to Fida'a, who placed it on the passenger support between them. Usually the support was reserved for equipment such as SINCGARS radios and Blue Force trackers, but all of that had been gutted.
Humvees didn't have keys. The last thing you wanted to worry about during the heat of battle was picking up the starter from a fallen brother. You turned a rotary switch through two positions, and the engine activated.
Suleman stared at said switch suspiciously. Was it a trap?
He returned his gaze to the road and the three dead bodies arrayed before him. He thought of Emad speeding away before him, and anger filled him.
He was in Allah's hands.
He moved the rotary switch to the RUN position. The wait-to-start lamp above it activated. He stared at it, sweating.
The lamp went out. So far, so good. He glanced at the transmission indicator lamp above the gear shift. It was lit.
Holding his breath, he turned the rotary switch to the START position.
The vehicle rumbled to life.
Slumping slightly, he released the rotary and it returned to the RUN position. Emad wasn't as good at the game as Suleman had believed—at the very least the fool should have disabled the Humvee.
He shifted uncomfortably—there was something protruding from the base of his seat beneath him. Reaching back, he discovered an undetonated grenade. He tossed it out the window in fright, but the bomb was a dud. Allah truly was with him that night.
Emad, you keep making mistakes.
Smiling maliciously, Suleman set the topmost light switch on the lower left of the steering wheel to the Blackout Drive position, which activated the blackout lights. Then he shifted the vehicle into gear and accelerated over the three dead bodies.
thirty-six
Ethan kept checking his left and right rearview mirrors for signs of pursuit, but never spotted any other vehicles. That didn't mean they were safe. Not by a long shot.
He regretted abandoning the second Humvee. He should have told William to drive it, but he had allowed his friend to drop a grenade in the vehicle instead. Before the bomb had gone off, frantic shouting had come from the south; Ethan had feared the arrival of reinforcements, so he had ordered William into the first Humvee and driven off. He should have waited to make sure the grenade had detonated, but he had simply wanted to get the hell out of there.
I'm getting sloppy.
He was driving with the blackout lights. That, combined with the ambient illumination from the blazes in the nearby villages was more than enough to see by.
In the seat behind him, Aaron used the offline map in Ethan's Android to give directions. Ethan's only worry was that the battery would fail. The power levels were under twenty percent the last time he checked.
"Tell me how you guys got caught," he told Aaron over his shoulder.
"Someone recognized me in the forward camp."
"Someone?"
Aaron sighed. "Before you arrived in Turkey, Sam had me working with another group of DIA contractors. Apparently these guys had some of the highest success rates at turning foreign fighters."
Ethan pressed his lips together. "I think I know where this is going."
"Take a left up ahead," Aaron said. "And yeah, these guys were twisted." He hesitated. "Their methods were unorthodox, to say the least. We intercepted this one jihadi named Habib in Gaziantep who was on his way to Syria from Saudi Arabia. The contractors brutally raped him. I walked out on the thing, but I discovered later that they took pictures and threatened to show them to his family if he didn't become their asset. You know what the punishment for homosexuality in Saudi Arabia is, right?"
Ethan shook his head. "Some of the contractors the DIA hires..."
"Yeah, well, I told Sam to reassign me shortly after that. Maybe I'm too squeamish. The guy was on his way to join the Islamic State, after all, a group of radicals who cut people's heads off on YouTube and rape entire villages, so maybe I shouldn't have felt so strung up about it. But there's a certain standard of human decency I follow, even against my enemy. A code. Doing stuff like that DIA team did, well, it makes me feel... vile, you know?"
"Worse shit was done in Guantanamo," William piped in.
"Yeah well, I always like to tell myself that we're better than the terrorists," Aaron continued. "That we won't descend to their base level, but you know what, we're not better. We're not." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, this agent the DIA team supposedly recruited? Well he showed up in the camp back there."
"Ah."
"Yeah. Apparently Habib had worked his way up the Islamic State ranks since the last time we met. Had me arrested. William got wind of it and tried to vouch for me, but the judge arrested him after Habib went wacko and started shooting me."
"Wait, what?" Ethan said. "The judge arrested William? Why? He should have arrested this Habib."
"Yeah, except that William snatched a pistol from one of the nearby muj and popped Habib in the head."
"Oh."
William jumped in. "What was I supposed to do, stand by and watch the guy kill him?"
"No," Ethan said. "You did the right thing."
William laughed softly. "I probably should have capped him in the knee instead, but the bastard royally pissed me off. Thought he could mess with one of my friends and get away with it, did he? And truthfully, I wanted to shut him up. I figured without his testimony, Aaron would be safe. I was wrong. After I was arrested, the judge's lackeys found the USB stick and TruPulse range finder on me and they got all excited because Aaron had them, too. When they discovered the retractable RF antennas hidden within the USBs, we were basically screwed."
"Didn't help matters when I gave up the PIN to my Android under duress," Aaron added. "And they found certain un-Islamic recordings on the phone."
"Videos of you providing commentary in English during airstrikes?" Ethan asked.
"Yup."
"I warned you about doing that."
"I know you did."
"You're supposed to be one of the best operatives in the field," Ethan scolded his friend.
"The best. Yeah. Doesn't mean I'm not human. I've paid for my mistakes, Ethan."
We've all paid for your mistakes, he wanted to say, but figured his friend felt guilty enough as it was. The three of them were alive and free, at least for the moment, and that was all that mattered.
The Humvee reached the final village before the wide tract to Kobane. He steered through the cement buildings, heading toward the heavy artillery at the outskirts. Under the blackout lights he spotted what he thought were a couple of militants on the guns, but none of them made any move to intercept the Humvee.
His two-way radio crackled to life. "Incoming vehicle, identify yourself."
The radio chatter from the forward camp wouldn't have reached these men, of course. Without radio towers and repeaters along the way, the distance was just too far.
"I'm a courier," Ethan said into his radio. "I have a message for the battle emir."
The militants waved him through.
Ethan drove past the heavy artillery into the empty expanse of land beyond. The southeast edge of Kobane lay about a kilometer ahead.
The sky cleared as the vehicle broke free of the tire smoke that choked the villages; the quarter moon
cast its dim light down upon them. He hoped none of the passing jets or drones would mark his thermal signature for bombing.
He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he reached the city's perimeter. At the entrance checkpoint he slowed to a halt, then slid the window locking bar from its hole and lowered the Humvee's ballistic glass.
One of the fighters on duty shone a flashlight inside. Ethan was about to repeat his courier claim when a garbled voice came over the man's two-way radio. The fighter raised a hand in a "wait a moment" gesture.
"Say again?" the man spoke into the two-way.
The voice returned, but there was far too much static for it to be intelligible. Likely the speaker originated from the forward village, or a vehicle on the way to Kobane from there. Ethan did catch one ominous word: "Prisoners."
The soldier shrugged, then returned his attention to the Humvee.
"I am a courier—" Ethan began, but the fighter was already waving him through.
Ethan stepped on the accelerator.
Almost there.
* * *
Suleman crossed both checkpoints with relative ease. He simply told the lazy watchmen that he was in pursuit of escaped kaffir spies. At the second checkpoint, the soldier on duty hesitated when he spotted the bloody nose, but when the man looked into his eyes and saw the fires that burned there, he seemed to understand that Suleman was a true lion of Islam, fervently dedicated to the cause.
Suleman's nose still throbbed slightly, and he experienced bouts of dizziness. Those were the least of his problems, however: traveling by vehicle through Kobane proper proved extremely difficult. The streets were a mess, and he had been forced to backtrack several times when his way was blocked by a collapsed building or blast crater. Worse, Emad's signal no longer showed up on the Stingray.
Despite these difficulties, he had no doubt he would find Emad eventually. None whatsoever. Allah would guide him.
He switched over the two-way radio to the common frequency and spoke. "All units, be on the lookout for a roaming Humvee. Report its position, but do not attack." The last was to ensure that any militants who spotted Suleman's Humvee wouldn't launch a rocket at him.