Peace - A Navy SEALS Novel (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 3)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Exactly my point, my friend,” Peace replied. “The people may also choose one of the Mullahs to an elected post. The problem will come when, if ever, the people wish to vote him out, and he has corrupted the system while in office, or formed an alliance with the military. Even in the United States, we have men elected time after time to our Congress and Senate, who are thieves, liars, and borderline traitors. Freedom is not always an easily traveled road.”

  “I am not afraid of the concept, Sir,” Mohammad answered steadfastly.

  “We can do it, Peace,” Samud added.

  “Okay,” Peace agreed. “I just wanted you both to know what you will be up against. Women now have a much stronger voice in Afghanistan and Iraq. Will such a monumental change be acceptable?”

  Samud and Mohammad looked at each other, and then over at Zehra.

  “It would be acceptable,” Mohammad said. “Such things do not happen overnight though.”

  “Good,” Peace concluded. “How many people are in your town, Mohammad?”

  “I believe over five thousand.”

  “It would be best if we meet up with your council somewhere we will not have to worry about five thousand townspeople joining into the debate,” Peace suggested.

  “I can get word to them tomorrow, and we can set up a meeting somewhere less dangerous than the town square,” Mohammad answered. “They will refuse to be unseated from power.”

  “The members who embrace the new concepts we have talked about will be welcome to stay. They can seek legitimate election later, after the guidelines for your new governing body can be set up,” Peace explained. “The members who wish to provoke violence will be killed. Are we in agreement on that point? We cannot proceed otherwise.”

  Mohammad looked to Samud questioningly. Samud merely nodded.

  “Each of these council members has a family and a following, Sir,” Mohammad said, turning back to Peace. “If anything happens to them, it may bring more violence.”

  “Just as I explained,” Peace nodded in agreement. “This will not be without danger, and we will not be able to make everyone happy. Depending on how well Samud fits the Warlord roll we have for him, will determine how much follow up violence will take place.”

  “I will play my part well,” Samud promised, looking directly to his friend Mohammad. “If we are to take part in the rebuilding of our nation, we must be strong.”

  “We are in agreement then,” Mohammad smiled. “Let us get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  “I’ll take first watch, Peace,” Tony put in, sensing the meeting was at a close. “Sammy, you get to sleep through the night. I want you fresh as a daisy for tomorrow’s adventure.”

  “Very well,” Samud laughed. He took Zehra’s hand in both of his, and whispered quietly to her. She nodded.

  “If I cannot be of service, I will retire for the evening,” Zehra said to her brother and the Seals. She went up to her room after they bid her goodnight.

  “I wish to have your permission to take Zehra as my wife,” Samud said suddenly to Mohammad.

  Mohammad hugged his friend happily. “I was beginning to think you would never get the courage to ask. She has been most unhappy with your shyness, my friend.”

  “Truly?” Samud gasped, as Peace and Tony laughed. “I did not… I mean… I…”

  “Never mind,” Mohammad told him, as he shook his hand. “You have my blessing. I hope you will consider staying here until you can find a place of your own.”

  “Thank you,” Samud replied enthusiastically. “I will begin looking for a house immediately. Would it be possible to have a small ceremony here? Can it be done?”

  “I think,” Mohammad smiled, “that would be a very good idea, considering the situation. It would be good for my sister to be married, for even a short time, before she becomes a widow.”

  “I cannot guarantee it,” Peace broke in, “but Tony and I will kill a lot of people before we let anything happen to Samud, or you, for that matter. On that happy thought, I am going to get some sleep. Wake me for watch, Tony.”

  “Count on it,” Tony replied, slinging his MAC 10, and heading for the door.

  __

  “Hello stranger, nice to hear from you,” Dan said sarcastically.

  Peace sighed.

  “I heard that,” Dan added.

  “Did Bull and Ibrim make it out okay?”

  “On their way back to the states by now. How’s business?”

  Peace outlined his plan to Dan in Spanish, incorporating idioms, which made his recital nearly unintelligible to anyone trying to interpret his meaning.

  “Well, that sounds a little overly optimistic,” Dan commented when Peace finished.

  “You could relieve me,” Peace suggested.

  “I don’t speak Pashto like a native, smart ass. What’s the oriental devil think of your plan?”

  “He’s very excited.”

  “I’ll bet,” Dan laughed. “Approved. We can back you up if you need us. We’re rounding up the leftover Mullah minions.”

  “Rounding up, or eliminating?”

  “A little of both, their choice,” Dan replied. “Call me if you need us. I want a complete accounting of your expenses too.”

  “Very funny,” Peace said, as he listened to Dan have a further laugh at his expense. “I’ll check in tomorrow at 0600.”

  “Make it 0800,” Dan countered. “Some of us have night patrols.”

  “Roger that,” Peace replied, before calling over to Tony for Dan’s benefit. “Hey, Tone, the Commander thinks we’re living high here.”

  “Tell him the horses are the only part of this mission living high, unless facing certain death is a trip to Disneyland,” Tony called back from where he hunched down, watching the rooftops around them.

  “I thought he was excited about your plan,” Dan chuckled.

  “He was exaggerating for your benefit.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Hoo-ya,” Peace finished, and put the com gear away.

  “Our Commander Dan loves the plan, huh?” Tony asked as Peace walked over next to him.

  “Oh yeah, he’s thrilled. He says we can call for help.”

  “Help for what, to get our bodies? If anything goes wrong, even Superman couldn’t get here in time to help us,” Tony offered.

  “Ahhhhh… that’s so cute. You don’t have to put a happy face on this for my benefit, Tone.”

  Tony laughed. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

  “Like I was sleeping inside,” Peace answered.

  “That bad, huh? It’s a lot better knowing where the enemy is, and them not knowing where we are. Every noise inside is like an alarm clock.”

  “Sleep is overrated,” Peace shrugged. “Hey, didn’t you sleep like a baby, knowing I was patrolling to keep you safe and snug?”

  “No,” Tony answered simply. “Don’t take it personal though.”

  “Ditto.”

  “I saw Zehra get up while you were talking. Maybe she’ll make tea or coffee,” Tony suggested.

  “We’ll have to drink it out here if she did. The town was stirring when I did my last round,” Peace said. “Some are over checking out our handy-work right now, I’ll bet.”

  “At least it ain’t summertime,” Tony countered. “It was cold enough to keep the bodies frosty.”

  “What a sweet way of looking at our disposal problem,” Peace kidded. “It was cold last night. I kept moving.”

  “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Peace?” Tony chuckled. “Do what I do. Every time I start getting chilled, I think of an 0500 dive.”

  “I’m toasty just hearing you say it. Shall we get some coffee, and then escort our tribal liaison around to roust the council?”

  “By all means,” Tony agreed, gesturing to the door of Mohammad’s house. “Knock first though. Sammy may be up, and he’s probably pumped.”

  “We could raise the dead Cleric’s army, send them marching through the door shouting dea
th to Sammy, and he’d still catch the first bullet as he stared in a trance at the lovely Zehra.”

  “Knock anyway.”

  “Hoo-ya.”

  __

  “This looks inviting,” Peace whispered to Tony in Chinese as they walked cautiously through the small doorway, preceding Samud and Mohammad into the one room, ramshackle storage shed.

  A makeshift, roughhewn table had been brought in, with equally rustic chairs. Six bearded men, in various combinations of western and native garb sat sipping from small cups. A dozen heavily armed men stood with weapons ready behind the men at the table. They whispered angrily to each other, tension building with every second. Peace put a restraining hand on Tony’s arm.

  “Stay here a moment, and get ready to push our boys back out the door,” Peace instructed in Chinese, taking out a grenade, and pulling the pin.

  “Hey, what is this, a suicide bombing?” Tony asked, edging back against Samud, who halted Mohammad.

  “Either that, or an icebreaker,” Peace replied, striding towards the table, with every weapon focusing on him.

  Peace threw the grenade pin on the table, holding the live grenade for all to see, as he smiled at them amiably. The men gasped in unison, the seated ones nearly tipping the table over as they drew away, and stood up.

  “Sit down,” Peace ordered in Pashto, “or we all meet Allah right now.”

  Hesitantly, the men looked at each other, and then at the smiling killer’s eyes in front of them. They sat down.

  “Tell your men to stack their weapons over there,” Peace gestured to the debris cluttered side of the room to their left. “Do so now. There will be no other armed men in this room other than the Warlord’s party, and no other warning.”

  Before their leaders could even speak, half of the men behind them hurriedly rushed to the indicated area, dropping their AK47’s to the ground. The rest of the men followed their comrades’ lead within seconds. Peace gestured for them to stand over at the opposite side of the room, slightly behind, and to the table’s right.

  “Keep your hands in front of you,” Peace instructed them. “Any movement will be deemed a threat, and you will be killed. Is that understood?”

  The men nodded their understanding, clasping their hands in front of them, or the fronts of their clothing. Peace carefully reinserted the pin in the grenade, as Tony escorted Samud and Mohammad to the table.

  “I am so going to tell on you,” Tony whispered to Peace in Chinese.

  “You were told to come here unarmed. The next time you disobey the Warlord’s directive, you will be killed,” Peace told the seated men simply, “and all of your families with you.”

  Peace nodded at Samud, as he and Tony drew back from the table. Samud and Mohammad sat at the table, opposite the council members.

  “We called you council members here to discuss the future of your town,” Samud said with confidence. “Tehran has fallen. The rule of the Mullahs is over.”

  The council members exchanged startled looks as well as fearful ones.

  “My friend Mohammad will be council leader from now on,” Samud went on. “Those who wish to embrace the change to democratic rule, and want to help with the rebuilding, may stay on to help until elections can be organized. Those who wish to live in the past may take their families and belongings, and leave here. Those who stay and oppose us will be destroyed.”

  “How can you order such things?!” The man to Samud’s right said angrily. “Ahmed Rashad is the leader of this council. When…”

  “My companion has had the pleasure of making your former council leader extinct,” Samud interrupted with a wave of his hand toward Peace, “along with the Cleric, Khatami, and all of his soldiers.”

  Samud leaned forward, his face a mask of contempt. “We will guide the cleanup and rebuilding of the Mosque as our first endeavor together. As to how I can order such things, I do order such things, and death will come at the heel of my words like barking dogs.”

  “You think because you are a lackey of the Americans, we will just follow you blindly?” Another man asked derisively. “We will not turn away from Allah, and kneel at the Godless American devils’ feet.”

  Samud put up a restraining hand, as Peace came within a millisecond of putting a round through the head of the man who had spoken. Samud stood up, leaning on the table in front of him as he spoke passionately.

  “Do the Americans send forth their young men, women, and children with bombs strapped to their bodies, calling it God’s will? Do the Americans store weapons in their holy places, and shoot at their enemies from behind their own babies? For many months I have fought next to the Americans. They found out our country’s regime was behind a plan to kill millions in their nation. Instead of simply wiping us off the earth, as we have sought to do to them, they came here and helped us throw off our evil rule. Who indeed are the Godless in this struggle?”

  Samud reached across the table and plucked the man who had spoken out of his chair, and across the table. He threw him to the floor violently. Peace and Tony covered the room, weapons ready, and Mohammad watched the council members intently.

  Samud gestured to the groaning man on the floor. “Come, dog, let us see who is the lackey here.”

  When the man refused to rise, holding a hand up fearfully, Samud kicked him viciously in the side, and then turned to the rest of the council as the fallen man cried out in pain. “Who else would call me lackey? Do not fear my companions. They are the only ones keeping you from death. They kill in defense of their nation. I know all too well how many in our country kill only because of petty hatred, bred in them for so long, they have forgotten the reason behind it centuries ago. No more! We will become again a religion of peace, instead of blasphemers of it. Now, who is next?”

  When no one at the table moved to take up Samud’s challenge, Samud nudged the fallen man with his foot disdainfully. “Get up, and sit down, dog.”

  Two of the other council members helped their fellow member to his feet, and back into his seat. Samud sat back down next to Mohammad, who had been gauging his friend’s actions with hopeful interest. Samud continued.

  “My Father and Mother were tortured and killed by order of craven jackals like Khatami. My Father was a simple mason, and one day soon I will be able to return to the trade he taught me. Until then, I will spend every waking minute in pursuit of ideals which will allow my children, and their children to finally know freedom.”

  Over the next three hours, with very few breaks, Samud and Mohammad outlined the plan they had formulated that morning. At the end of the meeting, the council members left with their guards, to gather working parties to begin clearing away the bodies and debris from the destroyed Mosque. They each carried away a small amount of gold, and the belief their lives were to change for the better, including the man Samud had physically attacked. They understood strength, and violence.

  “You never talked of your Mother and Father,” Peace commented, as the four men walked back to Mohammad’s home, the two Seals scanning rooftops and doorways with practiced sweeps.

  “It was not to be spoken of,” Samud replied quietly. “I was ashamed at how Khatami cowered me in front of you. Even after the murder of my parents I still could not throw off my fear. When you broke the Cleric’s neck, something snapped within me too.”

  “You were very impressive, my friend,” Mohammad stated, nodding at Samud’s statement. “You made me believe in what you spoke of. I should not be the one to lead the council.”

  Samud shook his head in the negative. “No, brother, I cannot lead the council. It is most important for you to take the leadership role, with me in the background.”

  “Samud is right,” Peace agreed. “He has laid the groundwork for a smooth transition, with a leader everyone in your town knows, backed by three important ingredients here: strength, respect, and fear. I believe Samud could become a leader in the near future of much more than a small town council.”

  “I am of t
hat opinion also,” Mohammad replied. “I will play my part, and perhaps one day see my future brother-in-law become a national leader.”

  “I wish for no more than to gain Zehra as my wife, and use my hands in common labor, rather than to hold a rifle,” Samud sighed. “After all this time, could our struggle finally be at an end?”

  “The hardest part will come later,” Peace answered. “There will be many obstacles to overcome in the years ahead. Unfortunately, the battle to defeat the long-standing hatreds you spoke of to the council still lies ahead. Zehra may give you the strength you need to see this through; but unless gifted leaders, like you and Mohammad, take an active role in establishing a new government and way of life, Iran could fall back into the hands of the enemies we have just defeated.”

  “It does not appear we have won very much yet,” Samud said thoughtfully. “I had hoped for small things if we won: a family, a home, and possibly a business of my own. I forgot, in spite of all your country’s power, and having gained freedom centuries ago, here you and Tony are. Still you must fight.”

  Tony, who had been following the conversation with interest, laughed a little, and wrapped an arm around Samud’s shoulders.

  “It’s a calling, Sammy,” Tony stated in commiseration, speaking in English. “Millions go to sleep at night in America, because some of us come here to fight. They may not know it, realize it, or show any gratitude for it; but we know. If you want a pat on the back though, you’re on the wrong path with this leadership gig.”

  Samud nodded his understanding, having learned many of the idioms Americans used. He repeated what Tony had said in Pashto for Mohammad, trying to convey the humor and paradox of Tony’s words.

  Mohammad smiled in appreciation.

  “Yes, it is exactly so,” Mohammad added. “Your friend is right. Even if we are successful, and accomplish all we hope for without being killed, no one will care but us. Take up this calling, my brother, and when the time comes, I will pat your back.”

  “And I, yours,” Samud laughed. “It will have to be enough.”