by Susan Cliff
He drove as fast as he dared, checking his rearview mirror for flashing lights. The hotel clerk might have called the police. Hud could get pulled over any time. Even if he made it across the border, there was little hope of a good outcome. But what else could he do?
Hud considered his options as he continued driving. He didn’t know who to turn to. Alerting the Iranian authorities wouldn’t help. They’d arrest him on the spot. He could stop the vehicle and try to call his commander, but he needed immediate assistance. The SEALs couldn’t mobilize quickly enough to save Layah. The nearest air base was hundreds of miles away. They’d have to deploy a Blackhawk, and they couldn’t even fly over Iran. It was a risky undertaking with astronomical costs, for a refugee of little consequence. His commander would never get clearance.
Yeah. Hud was on his own.
When he reached Jolfa, he followed the signs to the border. It was a small town with a land crossing in the form of a bridge. The layout was similar to what he’d seen in Nordooz. Security was tight on the Iranian side.
Hud had no idea if the guards here had been compromised by the Da’esh. He assumed there was a plan in motion that involved the Iranian police. They’d made a deal with the devil. Hud put the pillowcase over the guard’s head before they reached the checkpoint. He didn’t want anyone to recognize his captive.
“Stay silent or I’ll shoot you,” Hud said. He gave the guard a hard tap against the temple. “You got that?”
“Iaa.”
Hud honked his horn in greeting as they approached the bridge. It seemed like the thing to do, and it worked. He was in a border guard uniform, driving a government vehicle. The guards didn’t blink an eye at Hud or his hooded passenger. They waved him through without any hesitation. He accelerated across the bridge and kept going.
Then he was in Azerbaijan. That was it. He’d escaped Iran.
Hot damn.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, his blood pumping with adrenaline. No one was coming after him. There was plenty of trouble ahead, but none behind him. So far, so good. He reached out to tug the pillowcase away from the guard’s face.
“Now where?”
The guard gritted his teeth and jerked his chin to the right. It was in his best interest to cooperate. Hud was more than willing to shoot him in the leg or toss him out of the vehicle if he didn’t. The guard was at his mercy. Hud would try to exchange the man for Layah. He was a bargaining chip, nothing more.
If Al-Bayat was running the show, there would be no exchanges. Al-Bayat didn’t make deals; Hud knew that for a fact. The terrorist leader wouldn’t negotiate with him or release Layah for any reason. Hud wasn’t sure how to defeat him. He had no plan of action. He wasn’t used to flying solo, without a SEAL team to back him up.
The rendezvous spot was only a few miles from the bridge. The guard indicated a road on the right, which Hud followed to a large dirt lot. There were white boxes stacked in neat rows in the middle of a clearing nearby. Two squad cars were parked in the shade at the end of the lot.
Al-Bayat wasn’t here.
Hud couldn’t believe his luck. This was the ideal scenario. If Hud rescued Layah before the Da’esh executioner arrived, the two of them could escape this nightmare and make a run for the Armenian border.
He parked about thirty feet away from the squad cars. The officers didn’t come out to greet him. Hud couldn’t see anything but two vague shapes through the rear window of the second squad car.
The scene made him uneasy. It was too quiet, but he didn’t have time to do any more reconnaissance. Al-Bayat and his henchmen might arrive any moment. He couldn’t ask his captive to evaluate the situation, either. The man spoke little or no English. Hud made sure the guard’s face was covered with the pillowcase before he exited the vehicle. Moving swiftly, he circled around to the passenger side. He opened the door for the guard, his gun raised. They walked toward the squad cars together.
Hud thought about car bombs and other traps. His last assignment as a SEAL had ended in a huge explosion. He’d been reckless in Telskuf, and he’d paid the price. He was lucky he hadn’t been killed. Now his instincts told him to proceed with caution. He could be walking into another trap.
Hud studied their surroundings as they continued forward. The white boxes in the clearing were for bees. He could hear the faint buzz of insect activity. It was the only sound. Two men were sitting in the front seat of the squad car on the left. Both were facing forward, not looking back. They were way too still for Hud’s tastes. His gut clenched with trepidation.
He decided to make a sharp detour. He cut to the right instead of walking in a direct line toward the squad cars. He entered the clearing and circled around for a better view. As soon as he got a glimpse through the front windshield, his heart dropped.
There was a reason the officers weren’t moving.
They were dead.
Layah wasn’t in either vehicle. She must have been taken to another location and delivered to Al-Bayat. Hud felt a sharp twist in the center of his chest. If he couldn’t save her, nothing else mattered.
Layah had become his entire world. She was his woman. She was his assignment. She was his reason for living.
He would not fail her again.
Hud knew there was trouble coming. He had no more use for the guard, no reason to keep a gun trained on him. The uniform Hud was wearing had helped him cross the border. Now it felt like a target on his back. Al-Bayat would want to keep Hud alive, if only to torture him some more or behead him in a grisly celebration. The guard was disposable, like the police officers. Al-Bayat was clearly cutting ties with his Iranian comrades.
Two men in black emerged from the trees on the opposite side of the dirt lot. Two Da’esh militants with rifles.
“Get down,” Hud said to the guard.
The man didn’t understand, or just didn’t comply. Hud left him standing there and ran toward the clearing, his head ducked low. When he reached the first row of white boxes, he jumped over them and kept going. Bullets tore across the clearing, peppering the ground at Hud’s feet. He hurdled another row of boxes. A third man appeared at the edge of the clearing, cutting off his escape route. Hud dropped to his belly to avoid more gunfire. The box in front of him exploded in a dark swarm.
Angry bees and chaos erupted.
* * *
Layah watched the bridge to Iran disappear behind them.
Her hopes of being rescued plummeted. Hudson couldn’t follow them across the border. They were in Azerbaijan now, on their way to Al-Bayat or whoever was in charge of her fate. Her throat closed up with emotion.
They stopped in a dusty parking lot in a secluded place. She stared out the window and prayed for Hudson, for Ashur and for herself. A voice over the radio broke her concentration. The police officer picked up the receiver to answer.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“They just crossed.”
“Who did?”
“Your guard and his captive.”
The policeman seemed surprised by this news. He thanked the other officer for the notification. “One guard captured your man without any trouble,” he boasted to Layah. “This American is not so smart or strong, is he?”
Hudson had defeated three guards at Nordooz yesterday, but Layah didn’t say that. “Who are we meeting?”
“You’ll see.”
“How can you work for Da’esh monsters? They kill women and children.”
“Propaganda,” he said in a dismissive tone. “How can you sleep with an American? They steal everything they touch.”
“I have not betrayed my people or my country.”
“Silence,” he hissed. “You have no honor, trash woman.”
She watched the officer from the second squad car approach the passenger side. He climbed in to consult with his friend. Although the conversation was in Farsi, Lay
ah understood most of it. The second officer was concerned about the border guard, who wasn’t answering his phone. The first officer insisted that the guard was on his way with Hudson. While they argued about it, a black SUV barreled into the parking lot. Its passenger side window lowered to reveal a masked gunman.
Layah ducked her head, swallowing a scream. The executioner took aim before the officers could draw their weapons. Their deaths were swift and brutal. Blood sprayed into the air like red mist. There was an ominous gurgling sound, then nothing.
Layah cowered in the back seat, but there was no escape. A man dragged her out of the car and tossed her into the SUV. The vehicle drove a short distance before stopping again. She got shoved from the SUV and landed in a heap on the dirt floor of a barn. Straw was scattered all over the ground.
Al-Bayat stood there like a lord in his realm. Layah had never met the man before, but she recognized him. She’d seen his execution videos. He was young, no more than thirty, with a stocky build and a full beard. His eyes glinted with menace, and a hint of madness. She didn’t know if he truly believed in the twisted teachings of the Da’esh, or if he simply enjoyed killing. He wore a military-style uniform in black.
“Layah Anwar of Nineveh,” he said, bowing. “I knew your brother.”
She spat out a piece of straw. If she could spit in his face, she would.
Al-Bayat held two passport books in his hands, hers and Khalil’s. She must have left them behind in the melee at Nordooz. “Perhaps I knew your husband, as well. Was he in Palmyra?”
Tears filled her eyes, against her will. She didn’t answer.
“I removed the heads of so many rebels, it is difficult to keep track. But one stands out in my mind. If I remember correctly, he begged for mercy and swore his fealty. He kissed my hand so sweetly. So sweetly.”
She tugged at the plastic tie binding her wrists, her throat tight.
“What happens when an Assyrian woman marries a Sunni dog? She becomes a mongrel, fit only for an American.”
“He’s ten times the man you are.”
“Which one? Your husband or your lover?”
“Both.”
He walked in a circle around her. When he stopped, he trapped her hair under his boot. She hadn’t put on her hijab before she’d fled the hotel. “Look at you. Uncovered and dirty.”
The SUV backed out of the garage, leaving them alone together.
Al-Bayat knelt to stroke the hair he’d soiled. “For an Assyrian mongrel, you have a pleasing face.”
Layah tried to generate enough saliva to spit again, but her mouth was dry.
“I will strip you and bathe you in the blood of your American. Then I will purify you with my essence.”
“I will purify you with my vomit.”
He yanked her hair cruelly. Then a phone sounded in his pocket. He straightened and walked toward the barn doors to answer the call. She couldn’t hear the conversation. He seemed agitated, as if his plans had been thwarted.
She curled up on her side and prayed for Hudson.
The SUV reappeared outside the barn. The driver slammed on the brakes, kicking up a cloud of dust. A man was dragged from the vehicle. His face was covered, but she recognized his clothing as Hudson’s. Her heart seized in her chest.
No. Please, no.
Khalil had been executed while wearing a hood. The Da’esh had videotaped the mass shootings in Palmyra. She hadn’t been brave enough to watch the footage, but she knew he’d been among the victims. His body had been positively identified.
Now she was confronted with the same nightmare, all over again.
The Da’esh militants dropped him to the straw-covered ground. The pillowcase over his head was from their hotel room. His hands were bound behind his back, like hers, and his shirt was covered in blood. He didn’t move.
He was dead.
She scrambled onto her knees, smothering a sob. This couldn’t be happening. Her mind went blank with grief. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
“I told you I wanted him alive,” Al-Bayat said. “I told you to shoot the Iranians.”
Three men bowed their heads in shame.
“Were my instructions difficult to understand?”
“No, sir.”
“His hands are tied! How can you shoot a man whose hands are tied?”
“It was an accident. There were bees—”
“Who is responsible for this travesty?” Al-Bayat interrupted.
The three men looked at each other. One had reddish lumps all over his face. His eyes were swollen, his hands bumpy. He stepped forward to be judged. “I am.”
Al-Bayat drew a gun from his waistband. “Kneel.”
The man knelt.
“Pray.”
He bent forward, his lips moving in silent prayer. Al-Bayat shot him in the back of the head with cold precision. He slumped onto his side, eyes open. Layah’s stomach lurched with nausea. She stared at the horrific scene, unable to look away. She couldn’t process what she was seeing, or accept it. There were two corpses on the ground, and one was...
No.
That man wasn’t Hudson. It wasn’t him. The clothes didn’t quite fit his body. His muscle mass and skin tone were different. The dead man was larger than Hudson, with a heavier build. It wasn’t just a trick of her desperate imagination. Her heart knew the truth, too. She searched for the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. It wasn’t there.
Hudson wasn’t dead. He was alive, and fighting!
Al-Bayat seemed aware that something was amiss. He followed her gaze to the body. Striding forward, he yanked the pillowcase off the man’s head.
It was the border guard.
“This isn’t him,” Al-Bayat said.
His men looked perplexed. “It isn’t?”
“No,” he roared. “Where’s the guard?”
“He ran away.”
Al-Bayat paced the dirt floor, swearing at the top of his lungs. He didn’t execute any more men, but he shot several holes in the roof of the barn.
Layah was amazed by the turn of events. Hudson must have switched clothes with the guard. He’d made it out of Iran. He’d survived a clash with Al-Bayat’s men. Now he was free, and he would save her.
“Should we go look for him?” one man asked.
“No,” Al-Bayat said. He gave Layah a measured glance, as if weighing her importance. “He’ll come to us.”
Chapter 19
Hud was saved by a swarm of bees.
Bees.
After he dropped to the ground, the third assailant fired a few shots that went widely off target. One of the bullets struck the guard in the side of the neck. He fell to his knees, making choking noises. Hud drew his gun to return fire, but the bees did all the work. They descended on the Da’esh terrorist like a tornado, stinging his hands and face. Hud jumped up and ran away while the man was distracted. The other two rushed forward to check the guard, who was bleeding out in the dirt.
Hud escaped with a few bee stings and no tail. The militants didn’t even follow him. Two of them were focused on the accidental shooting of the man they thought was Hud. The other was in the throes of a violent insect attack.
Hud found a group of cypress trees to hide in. It was the only cover in the area, so he climbed up high and watched the scene unfold. The bee sting victim ran away from the clearing while the other two men stayed with the guard. They did nothing to help him, of course. Hud figured he was already dead. There was a black SUV on the opposite side of the parking lot. They loaded the guard into it and headed down a dirt road to a barn.
Al-Bayat would be there. In a barn like an animal.
Hud waited a minute to make sure they stayed inside the structure. He heard the faint pop of gunfire from the building. His gut clenched at the sound. Layah was in there with the
m. He could imagine what Al-Bayat would do to her, or wanted to do to her. Hud had to get there and stop him.
Once again, he didn’t really have a plan. He couldn’t count on another swarm of bees, or any more freak accidents. He’d have to enter a confined space, where he’d be outnumbered and outgunned. He was risking his life. Worse, he was risking recapture. He could be tortured for weeks before his public beheading.
It wasn’t the way he wanted to go out, but he’d do anything for Layah. He’d take on the whole world for her. He’d die for her.
That was love.
He’d loved before, on a different scale. He loved his mother, and his teammates. He’d even loved Michelle, though he wouldn’t compare her to Layah. What he felt for Layah was on another level. It was mountainous, majestic, epic. It was like climbing to the summit and touching the sky. It was everything.
Of course he would die for her. He couldn’t live without her.
He dropped down from the cypress tree and returned to the parking lot. The government vehicle he’d driven here still had the keys in the ignition. Hud moved it closer to the squad cars and got out. He transferred the smaller of the two policemen from the squad car to the Jeep. He put the body behind the wheel, with one dead foot on the gas pedal and the other on the brake. Then he shifted into a low gear and fired up the engine. The Jeep lurched forward. Hud walked along beside the open door.
The road leading to the barn started on a gentle downhill slope. Hud paused there, shifting the Jeep into Park. He wondered if Al-Bayat knew his men had shot the wrong person. Al-Bayat would want to see Hud’s dead face. Maybe the pop of gunfire indicated that Al-Bayat had discovered the mistake.
Hud assumed they’d be ready for him. The barn would be well guarded, with at least three men in addition to Al-Bayat. He couldn’t just stroll up to it and rescue Layah. He had to create a diversion first. If he tried to drive the Jeep into the barn himself, he’d get taken out by gunfire before he arrived. This body was the perfect driver, immune to more bullets. A corpse wouldn’t take his foot off the gas. Hud decided to add a surprise twist just in case the Jeep failed to catch their attention.