by Riker, Becky
“Reed,” DeWitt was already in the passenger seat of that vehicle, “you belong up here.”
He shook his head, “Hall and Garret, go with DeWitt.”
Hall faced him, “Where are you riding?”
“I’m sorry, Hall. I’ve been given orders to separate from you until we reach the base,” Slater hoped that sounded like he was catching a later vehicle.
“Why?”
“I can’t say.”
“Where’s the order coming from?”
“I can’t say.”
Hall glanced over his friend’s shoulder at Barnes and Hanbali, “This has something to do with her, doesn’t it.”
Slater couldn’t even guess which “her” Hall was talking about.
“Please don’t ask me anything else,” Slater ended the questioning.
Hall’s mouth quirked up, “Because you can’t keep anything from me?”
“Because I’d hate to have to make the choice between lying to my best friend and disobeying a direct order.”
Hall nodded as he backed away, understanding but still not happy, “Stay out of trouble.”
Slater responded with their familiar line, “Never.”
He turned away and slipped away from his men. He hated to keep anything from them, but his orders were to keep it quiet – even from them.
“I am sorry you will not be able to make this journey with your team, Captain,” Miss Hanbali was still standing next to Barnes when he returned to the side of the plane.
“Thank you, Miss Hanbali,” looking then at Barnes, “I think we should head for the flight pad.”
They were walking toward the chopper when the diminutive woman next to him, grabbed Slater’s arm, “Do you remember when you asked me what happened to the last car?”
He nodded as he continued to walk.
She pulled him so he slowed down, “The driver of that car is standing by the helicopter.”
They were no more than ten yards from the aircraft. Slater’s eyes met Anna’s.
“We could try to take them down in air,” Anna suggested, “but it would be dangerous.”
He turned around and pointed up at the roof of a building. Both women looked, “And we have to assume they would rather die than let Miss Hanbali live. Keep looking up there.”
“We have no cover,” Anna pointed out the obvious.
“I’m armed,” he informed the women. “Are either of you?”
Their silence was answer enough.
“We’re going to have to take them all down,” he turned slowly, finger still pointing in the air as if they were watching a bird’s flight.
“What if she’s mistaken?” Anna didn’t sound like she was arguing – just questioning.
“I’m not,” the other woman declared with no small degree of irritation.
“Still,” he lifted his sunglasses slightly to better peer into the sky, “it is a consideration.”
Slater smiled, “Maybe you should stretch your legs.”
Miss Hanbali looked at him like he had lost his mind, but Anna caught on.
He stopped and looked down at the smaller woman, fists on hips, “What do you mean it can’t wait?”
Anna dropped her bag, “I’ll go with her, sir,” she spoke loudly.
He lowered his voice, “Is your file on your person?”
She nodded.
Hanbali looked sheepish, “I cannot leave my bag. It has important information in it.”
“You need it for your meeting?”
“No, but it cannot get into their hands.”
He nodded, “Understood,” then he raised his voice as they walked off toward the nearest building, “Hurry up or I’ll come find you.”
The man at the helicopter looked suspicious.
Slater shrugged and yelled, “They needed to use the latrine.”
The man looked disgusted, but he didn’t display any signs of hostility.
Slater approached him, carrying his bag and Hanbali’s, “I’m Reed. You the crew chief?”
The other man shook his head, “No, the flight engineer – Smith .”
It was a strange name for an Arab man, but Slater supposed the imposter just looked for a common name.
“I hear you got some pretty heavy rainstorms here the last couple weeks,” Reed struck up a conversation.
“Yes,” his accent was very slight. “It has been very wet. It is nice to finally have a dry day.”
Slater breathed in through his nose and glanced into the cockpit, “You know this pilot very well?”
Smith shrugged, “I have worked with him a few times. He is competent.”
Slater couldn’t tell if the man was lying about that as well. Was the pilot a friend or foe? And how about the crew chief?
“The funny thing is, Smith, last night’s rain was the first they have had here in over two weeks. My commanding order mentioned it as we were coming in.”
Smith cleared his throat, “What are you saying?”
Slater’s pistol was out of its holster and in the man’s face before the sentence was complete.
“You tell me. Obviously, you’d like to take me for a ride here. What then? You planning to take us somewhere to torture us or just kill us once we clear the base? Maybe, you’re on some sort of insane jihad mission and you’re gonna send yourself to Hell along with the rest of us.”
The man sneered, “I’m not afraid to die.”
“Maybe not,” Slater didn’t believe it for a second,” but maybe,” he cocked the pistol as he took a step backward, “just maybe you’re lying about that too.”
The man’s eyes went wide.
Slater turned the gun slightly and shot over the man’s shoulder, hitting the hub of the tail rotor.
It was no surprise to Slater that he attracted the attention of the military police. He kept his gun trained on the man before him until they arrived.
“Drop to the ground,” one of the MPs shouted.
Slater met the other man’s eyes, smiled, and did as he was told.
By this time, the helicopter had shut down. It was now missing a rotor, but that was better than losing lives.
“Hands out in front of you,” a soldier kicked Slater’s pistol further from him.
Smith began speaking quickly, explaining that he was waiting for a passenger, but this man came up and began shooting.
“Keep it to yourself,” a soldier helped Smith up by grabbing the back of his jacket and yanking hard.
They were taken to separate cells. They were searched, and two of Slater’s knives found and taken. Thankfully, they didn’t find the file that he had wrapped around his thigh inside his pants.
“Captain Reed,” a tall thin lieutenant entered the room just ten minutes later, “please sit.”
“I’d rather not,” Slater was leaning back against the wall, arms folded over his chest.
The man narrowed his eyes as he took his own seat, “Suit yourself, sir.”
“You just came in on the jet from Afghanistan, and you’re already looking for trouble.”
Slater raised an eyebrow, “Maybe it came looking for me.”
The lieutenant was not amused, “We could sit here for hours, or you could tell me what is going on. The man you were having the altercation with tells me you were spewing racial epithets at him, and then you shot at him.”
“Clearly, I didn’t shoot at him, Lieutenant Grover. I shot at the tail rotor,” He dropped his hands to his sides and stood up straight. “If I had been shooting at the man, he would be dead now.”
The lieutenant must have felt threatened because he stood up, “You’re pretty sure of your shot.”
“You have my pertinent information in front of you, Grover. You must know I’m a sniper. It’s my job to be sure of my shot.”
The lieutenant glanced down at the paper before him.
“I’m also sure that man is not named ‘Smith.’”
“Oh?” the lieutenant placed his palms down on the table and leaned
toward Reed, “and what do you think his name is?”
Slater shook his head and grinned, “No clue. He wasn’t saying, but it’s not Smith.”
“You do realize what racial stereotyping is, Sir?”
“Out of curiosity, what was the race of the men in the chopper?”
The lieutenant’s face reddened, “What concern is that of yours?”
Slater had a sinking feeling in his stomach, “Did you hold them?”
“Again, I remind you, Sir. That is none of your business.”
Slater now mirrored the lieutenant’s posture – palms down, leaning in – and the men met face to face across the desk, “Where are they?”
“I am conducting this interrogation,” the lieutenant’s words did not come out with any degree of conviction, “you are simply here to answer questions.”
Slater growled, “Now, lieutenant.”
“They weren’t involved. We let them go.”
Slater hoped Barnes managed to keep herself and Hanbali hidden. He stood back and scrubbed a hand over his face. Even if the women were safe, the bag with the information was certainly not.
“Where is the luggage?”
The lieutenant seemed to regain some ground now that his prisoner had backed off, “You are facing some serious repercussions, and all you can think of is a couple duffle bags.”
“Listen, Lieutenant,” Slater ran a hand over his belt, “I’ll make a deal with you. I promise to not make you look completely incompetent if you tell me where the bags are.”
The other man smirked, “You special forces guys all think you own the world. I’m going to leave you for the major.”
Slater had had enough. In a lightning quick movement, he reached over and pulled the lieutenant toward him, dragging those long chicken legs over the table.
Covering the lieutenant ’s mouth, “I hate to do this to you – to any fellow soldier, really – but I’m running out of time.”
He removed the cuffs from the MP’s clip and fastened the surprised man to a chair.
“I suppose you know better than to scream like a little girl when I let go of your mouth?” Slater was pulling the gun from the man’s holster and putting it in his own.
The lieutenant nodded.
“Good,” he dropped his hand. “Now, I’m going to tell you something helpful for future reference. Special forces carry more than two knives. Your men didn’t bother with my belt or my holster. They should have.”
The man looked confused.
“Now, it’s your turn to tell me something.”
More confusion.
Slater was going to have to be specific, “Where’s the luggage?”
“Why – ”
Slater held up a finger, “Just where?”
“In holding,” the man’s shoulders slumped, “Two doors down.”
Slater threw him the keys, “Tell ‘em I attacked you and ran right by. Then I hit you on the head.”
The man removed his cuffs and looked up at Slater, “But you didn’t hit me, and they’ll check to see if – ”
Slater quickly obliged and then left the room as naturally and calmly as possible.
He found the holding room when the lieutenant said it would be. The room was unoccupied and the luggage was lying, unguarded, on a table.
If there was one thing Slater had learned about being in an uncertain situation, it was to act as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
He went into the room, picked up the bags, and turned to leave.
“What do you think you’re doing in here?” a colonel barred his exit.
Slater stood at attention, “Sir.”
The colonel folded his arms across his chest, “I asked you a question, Captain.”
Slater assessed the situation. He needed to get himself out of the room while leaving the colonel within. He eyed the ranking officer’s chest patches.
Slater glanced back at the table from which the bags had come, “I’m bringing these back to their rightful owners.”
“No,” the colonel stepped into the room, “you’re putting them back on the table and coming with me.”
Slater shifted all the luggage to his left side, “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.”
The colonel came a little closer, ready to give the captain a piece of his mind. That was all Slater needed. He ducked around the older man so his back was to the door.
“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, sir. I mean no disrespect.”
The colonel did not have time to register Slater’s words before the sound of Velcro announced the removal of the colonel’s rank and name from that man’s chest.
“Captain,” the colonel barked, “this will mean a court martial.”
Slater winced, but he knew there was no other option.
He pulled his pistol, “I’m going to need your sidearm too, sir.”
If looks could kill. . .
After receiving the weapon, Slater opened the door, faced it, and, with a powerful kick, removed the handle.
Before the colonel could make another move, Slater slammed the door behind himself and hurried down the hall.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the number Captain Barnes had inputted for him while they were in the air.
“Where have you been?” her voice sounded hollow.
“Just wrapping things up,” he traded his own name and rank for the Colonel’s. “Where are you?”
“Same place. Stretching our legs.”
Slater picked up his pace, “No wonder you sound so distant.”
She snorted, “I had a boyfriend who said the same thing.”
“Funny,” he intoned. “I’m not sure where the latrine is in that building.”
“I’ll come out and find you in the atrium.”
“No!” he shifted the bags so they were more evenly distributed, “I’ll find you.”
Slater stopped suddenly and swung around, accidentally knocking a young private to the ground with one of his bags.
“Sorry, sir,” the kid acted as if it was his own fault rather than Slater’s.
Slater picked up the private’s patrol hat and handed it back to him, “Carry on, private.”
He put the phone back to his mouth, “See if you can clear the women’s room before I get there.”
“Did I just hear something tearing?”
Slater kept walking, “It was Velcro.”
“Such as the Velcro from a uniform?”
He saw the building ahead, “It came off a private.”
“I’m becoming more and more apprehensive about this as we speak,” Barnes sounded like she was laughing.
“Is there more than one’s women’s latrine in the building?”
“No clue, but there’s a state flag just outside this one.”
“Great,” he closed his phone and entered the building. He returned the salute of several superior ranking officers before making his way to the women’s latrine. Glancing around himself to ensure nobody was watching, he ducked into the restroom.
“How nice of you to join us, Captain,” Hanbali was leaning against the wall, but still standing. Barnes had crouched down against the same wall, barely glancing up, “Now what?”
“Now,” he set down the women’s bags and rolled his shoulders to stretch them, “we get out of here.”
“How?” she stood up and looked at him, eyes widening, “and how are you suddenly a colonel?”
He grimaced, “The less you know. . .”
She hefted her bag to her shoulder, “Understood.”
Hanbali lifted her substantially smaller bag, “You may not want to know, but I do.”
Slater ignored that comment, “We’re going to meander out of here like nothing is out of the ordinary. Then we are going to go requisition a vehicle,” he glanced out the door, “and leave the base.”
“And by requisition,” Barnes walked slightly behind him, speaking only slightly softer than conversationally, “you mean steal.”
“They may have it back when we are finished with it,” he marched with purpose toward the nearest exit.
“See that transport bus?” Slater indicated it with a nod of his head.
“It’d be hard to miss,” Barnes was right behind him.
“Get in, and get down.”
Barnes pushed Hanbali ahead of herself. Slater followed them on and closed the door.
“I don’t suppose they left the keys in the ignition?” Barnes spoke from her place on the floor.
Slater reached under the dash, “Not a problem,” the engine started.
“How are we going to get past the guardhouse? Before you got to us, they announced over the loudspeaker they were looking for an Army captain who was possibly impersonating Colonel Jenkins.”
“I know. I heard. Give me your jacket.”
She sat up enough to remove it.
“Put mine on,” he threw it back. “Take off the name tag. I’ve got a new one in the right outside pocket.”
She worked quickly, amazed that he could drive while struggling into her jacket.
“That is not going to fit you,” she commented.
“They won’t be looking that closely, but I need to be Air Force right now.”
“Who’s ‘Donway?’” she replaced the name badge.
“Some poor private who is going to get yelled at for losing the name from his patrol cap.”
He pointed to his bag, “Put on a pair of my pants.”
“I thought you said they weren’t going to be looking that closely.”
“At me,” he corrected. “You’re getting out.”
“Great,” she rummaged through his bag.
“They’re looking for a man, not a man and a woman. They’re looking for an Army captain or colonel, not an Air Force captain.”
“I’m going to look like an Army colonel,” she reminded him.
“Nobody is going to believe you’re a man, Barnes – not for one second.”
She pulled his pants over her own, “I’m going to look like I’ve been playing dress-up with my dad’s clothes again.”
Slater smiled, “Be ready to get out and yell at the sergeant up here.”
He pulled to a stop by the guard.
“What’s the problem, Sergeant?” he looked down at the man with the gun.
“We are looking for a man who beat up an MP and stole a colonel’s badge, sir.”