“I got some little devices with a pretty good range. Problem is, we need to be line of sight to work them. That means someone has to stay buried up on top of the mountain.”
“Then we’ll plan that. You look today for what you’d need and plan where we put them. We’ll do the rest,” answered Kyle.
“Okay, then. Kyle, give me the grand tour,” said Forsythe.
Lucas accompanied Forsythe and Kyle, Cooper, Armando, Jackie and Fredo to the top of the ridge. They were surprised to find two guards posted on the hill today, and, unlike before, one was upper ridge, one was lower ridge. With his high-powered scope, Armando was able to determine there were two other sentries across the small valley overlooking the camp. This meant they had beefed up security, for some reason. Nothing could be discussed until they were away from earshot.
Lucas heard the buzz of a high-flying drone before anyone else did, and he pointed it out to Coop.
“Shit,” he said softly. He pointed to his chest, shook his head, “Not ours,” he whispered.
Armando finished taking pictures. Lucas noted the vans were lined up as they always were, with the exception of one backed up to the end of a building. The doors were not visible.
Forsythe was comparing their photos with what he was seeing live and made a couple notations to Kyle. Lucas kept scanning the skies for evidence of the drone’s return. Movement down in the valley piqued his attention and he found a drone operator using a small laptop computer was guiding it home. He handed his scope, taken from his H&K, to Coop. After several seconds of study, and watching the drone land near the lake’s shore, Coop nodded and handed him back the scope.
“All good,” he whispered.
Lucas gave him the thumb’s up.
They began to leave the site when they heard a car approach the guard gate to the camp. The occupants were two ponytailed blonde ladies, both wearing short shorts and tank tops. Lucas examined the ladies as they were ushered through the gate. What he saw made the hair stand up all over his body.
“Holy fuck!” he whispered.
Kyle faced him and angled his head.
He whispered, “Builder’s daughter” to Kyle’s ear. Armando had them in his site as well.
“Wonder if papa knows,” said Armani.
“I’m guessing not.” Kyle added, “If he felt the creeps when he was there, I’d have a hard time thinking he’d let his daughter go there.”
“He must have told her, right?” Lucas asked.
Armando shook his head. “I say no. She’s doing her little wild child thing, but that’s a dangerous game. Very dangerous.”
The ladies parked outside one of the buildings and were shown the way to the building doorway. The girls looked at each other, shrugged and walked inside.
The SEALs waited a half hour without further incident. It appeared no foul play was at hand, or whatever the girls were doing was consensual, so Kyle and Forsythe checked with Jackie for any clues, and then called their surveillance off and the group headed back to camp.
After they arrived at the meadow at the base of the ridge, Lucas asked Coop what he was dying to know. “What the hell are they doing with that drone?”
“Same thing we are. We gotta hope to God they don’t know we’re here,” Coop answered him. “Hard to tell, but I didn’t see any equipment saddled on her, so I think she’s not taking pictures, but you never know. They get hold of one of those micro cameras and we may be on their evening news.”
Forsythe turned to them. “We’re going to have to consider not going up anymore in the daytime. At least at night, we aren’t as discernable.”
“But our signature will stand out more,” said Kyle.
“Only reason you’ll be there is if we can’t get the air support, if we go in. We need eyes on the ground,” said Forsythe. “I’m going to get on the horn and find out if there are any updates. But I think our next mission will be to verify there is a hostage there.”
Lucas didn’t like the fact that, due to it being on U.S. soil, they’d have to be extra careful before they were granted permission to go forward. Going in and still having to get permission to go forward didn’t seem tactically sound. But he wasn’t the one calling the shots.
Chapter 32
‡
MOUSTAFA INTENDED MARCY would be the training whore for his young men, something to use as reward for jobs well done. He cleaned her body and even put first aid salve on some of her scrapes and the bump on her forehead. He enjoyed washing her, preparing her. The training would be long and delicious.
He found that forbidden fruit was the best kind of motivator. They studied it was wrong to have sex with an infidel, but an infidel being used to train boys into becoming men, was allowed. The fact that she would never give her consent made the whole scenario complete. Consensual sex with an infidel was punishable by death. Rape with a subhuman infidel was not only allowed, it was doing the Prophet’s work and moving them all toward the Kingdom of Heaven. Moustafa knew he’d be rewarded.
In the meantime, he’d be quiet about his designs on the woman. He would let them touch her, pinch and lick her, perhaps draw a little blood, but the first entry into her body would be performed by him. He’d like to do it in private, but it was important to show the men how it was done. In the old days, they would have themselves to practice on, but now they had a live woman, a woman they could defile and not be punished.
God is good.
He’d given her another dose of heroine, when she started to come to as he was washing her. She quickly succumbed to a deep sleep and he could do anything he wanted to her. Such a thought was thrilling.
The heroine was part of the supply they were leaching out into the local high schools in Northern California, which accomplished two things: they raised funds for their cause, and they got the local population hooked on the substance. As far as he knew, they were off the radar.
The government was not only letting them operate these training camps, which emboldened his leaders back in Iran, but had expressly put out public communications to law enforcement they were to be protected. How the Prophet managed to arrange this, Moustafa could never figure. But it was a fact, they had nearly full immunity from prosecution, or persecution. Being isolated in the woods made them virtually invisible. Only thing missing was a fence. Every other compound had installed one. His would be coming soon.
God is good.
Marcy was in such a state that the restraints were not necessary. Besides, he liked having her drape over his body, her limp form still lusciously curvy in all the right places. He loved the smell of her perspiration, and the scent of old cologne behind her ears, on her wrists and between her breasts.
Today, while the boys were delivering their drugs to Cloverdale High School, he locked himself in the room with her, removing all their clothes and let her sleep on top of him. He fingered her clit, stuck a thumb into her anus and she moaned like it was pleasurable. But he knew better.
It had been a stroke of luck when they’d found her at the coffee shop. He’d hungrily watched her athletic body order her coffee, watched her out of the corner of his eye as she added cream and stirred the liquid mixture. Her backward tilt of the head exposed the silky white flesh of her neck. The more he watched her, the more he felt he owned her. His fantasies came in wild colors as he imagined things he could do to her, things like that warrior had done. He knew what her skin looked like at midnight, in the shower, even when she was relieving herself. He’d watched her shave her legs, shave other parts of her more intimately. Just for him.
They’d followed her at a distance, but when she drove off the main road leading to the coast, and onto the dusty dirt roads of the redwood forest, he decided on his bold plan. He would take her and the taking would happen nearly five miles from where they were living. It would surely take a week or more to find her car, locate her body, if at all. That was more than enough time for the events he knew were coming.
Capturing her was thrilling. He all
owed someone else to drive while he made sure her body was sufficiently intact. Her arms were strong, thighs unharmed. Her forehead was bruised, but her abdomen was flat and unmarked. Her butt cheeks smooth and squeezable. He took just a few liberties, when the students were not looking over at him.
Soon it would be time to use her the way the Prophet intended.
His erection was deliciously hard. She was unconscious. He grasped her hand and squeezed her fingers around his shaft, jerking off into her belly button. He longed for the day he could take her several times and spend an entire day doing it.
When he heard the boys’ van drive up, he quickly clothed himself, gave her another dose of heroine, placed her still naked body under the fleece blanket he’d taken off his own bed, and left her alone in the dark.
“Have you found anything?” he asked his young apprentices.
“Nothing.”
“Then have you developed our next target?”
They nodded. “She’s under age, Moustafa. Does it still count?”
“It counts double.”
His young students beamed with delight and anticipation, handing him all the money they’d raised.
“Tomorrow, then. We will continue our training with the infidel whore. Later in the week, you all will become men together. Then you will have the chance to choose your own vessel. After that, we will kill them all. Together.”
God is indeed good.
Chapter 33
‡
REVEREND TRAVIS BANKS ministered to his flock at Riverbend Maximum Security Prison, ten miles away from their base camp. Banks had met T.J. Talbot at the request of T.J.’s dying father, who was an inmate at Riverbend before he passed.
Because the SEAL team was asked not to leave camp, T.J. asked for and was granted permission to have him come visit at the camp the next morning. A year ago, Banks had informed T.J. about some of the activity that had been going on in the greater Nashville area, and the trending toward radicalization in the local prison population. T.J. thought perhaps Banks could be of some use.
The giant of a man with the gold front tooth made even T.J. look small, something that never happened.
“You never did stop by and I been waitin’, T.J. We gots some catching up to do,” Banks said, showing off his tooth in the wide smile pasted to his face.
“No excuses. But with little Courtney, it’s been tough. We’re expecting again.”
“Halleluiah. God blesses those who do the good work.”
“If that was the case, you’d have a dozen kids.”
Travis stopped a bit, tilted his head and dropped his smile, as if offended.
“Oh shit, Travis, I’m so sor—”
“Jes messin’ with ya.”
Lucas could see T.J. was relieved. “Honored to meet you, Reverend Banks. T.J. has talked about you non-stop since we found out you were coming out here,” Lucas said as he shook the pastor’s massive hand.
Forsythe was going over some photos and stopped to greet T.J.’s friend. “We’re most grateful for any help you can give us.”
“That’s partly why I’m here.”
Kyle showed Banks the photo of the Sheik. “This is the guy we’re looking for, reverend.”
Banks studied the photo. “Hmm. Reminds me of a real bad dude came through here last year, just before Christmas, but it wasn’t this guy. Big, grown bad-ass men at the prison were bowing on their knees to him. He swept through here, had a couple huge services at the Mosque and there were crowds clear across the street, blocking traffic. Police had to shut down the whole area and it was on the news. I don’t remember his name, but he was someone big, very big in their circle.”
“Like an advanced guard,” Forsythe commented.
“Kyle,” Jackie slipped between them. “You guys find some news footage. Let me listen to what he’s saying and I’ll tell you exactly what he was all about. This guy I don’t know, but he must be a powerful Imam from Iraq, maybe Syria,” offered Jackie Daniels.
Forsythe indicated he’d get someone working on it.
“So you wanna catch us up as far as what’s been happening in the community?” T.J. asked.
“Word has it there’s going to be a coordinated effort at a strike, or something of that nature. But the thing that bothers me is that this prison isn’t the only place. I got a friend out west works in the central valley of California, and he’s run across the same thing. This Imam I was telling you about went to all those places, too.” Banks looked around him at all the SEALs. “So what’re you doing here in Tennessee? Not exactly a place I’d expect to see this kind of crowd.”
“Training mission,” Kyle said. His voice was flat, but Lucas knew it belied apprehension. Kyle wore the mantle of leadership well, but anyone who spent any time around him knew he carried more than they saw publically.
Reverend Banks was hesitant to offer more help but finally agreed to check the visitor logs, which was a violation of his volunteer agreement.
“Now can me and T.J. here just sit and shoot the bull a bit? Or is this all serious, being that it’s a training mission.” He winked at T.J.
After getting permission, the two men headed to the corner. “Your sister looks good, T.J.” Lucas heard the pastor say as they left earshot.
“How did we not know this, Forsythe. You guys uncover this?”
“I’m sure the Bureau has knowledge of it. Politics, Kyle. Stay as far away as possible from politics. No winners there, except the most ambitious, the ones who will do anything.”
“That kinda fits us. We’d do anything to save this country,” said Coop.
“Ambitious here, to make sure everyone stays safe. A lot of our guys are dying out there and it’s still coming this way,” said Lucas.
“Well, that’s geography catching up to us. We can be thankful for that big old Atlantic. Pacific too, for that matter,” answered Forsythe. “With limited resources and the public retreating from their taste for war, as opposed to 9-11, we have to decide what to put to good use. Can’t do it all. People need to understand that.”
“Until something big hits us,” whispered Kyle staring off into space.
“And maybe that’s coming,” said Forsythe. “Either that or we’ll be ready. That’s why you boys are here, mainly to watch and learn. We weren’t putting you into the middle of a fight, but right next to the bad guys.”
Lucas couldn’t help but think about the timing of all this. Someone knew a confrontation was brewing. With over thirty camps in the U.S. it wasn’t going to be possible to stop them all. Maybe, just maybe, they could stop one here in Tennessee.
He thought about Marcy and was glad she was some distance from harm’s way, living in San Diego, where there were more military and retired military per square mile than just about anywhere. Even if he couldn’t, some soldier down there would make sure she was safe. Of that he was sure.
Chapter 34
‡
DONNA GRANT HEARD the voice of another woman, which was odd because she lived alone. But within mere seconds, she heard not one voice, but several. And they were all women’s voices. One was sobbing uncontrollably.
She wondered if one of the soccer players had managed to call a meeting with several of the others while she was sleeping. It felt like she’d slept a whole week, and then remembered she’d been drugged. Then Donna recalled the strange truck, the rag across her mouth and nose, and the odd noises while she fell backward into someone’s arms.
She’d been running. That was the part she was sure about. And they’d come up behind her and—and they’d kidnapped her! She remembered sending off the text SOS just before they came up behind her with the rag.
The sobbing continued. Several women’s voices tried to soothe the pain, but if anything, the crying continued at an even higher decibel. Donna was now wrestling with two conflicting feelings. She felt perhaps they were all in danger, but before she could do anything, she needed to know whether or not she was intact or gravely injured. It was her
training: to assess the damage to her own person first before attending to someone else’s.
Her left shoulder was sore. Her head felt groggy, but other than that, she was good to go, provided they stopped giving her the heroine. She assumed that was what it was from her previous experience in Iran.
That had been nearly four years ago when their convoy had been picked off by a warlord and his small band of militia. While most of her unit was killed, they’d taken her captive. The days and nights blurred into one long nightmare that lasted nearly a whole month before she’d been rescued by SEAL Team 5.
But now it was happening all over again. She was a captive this time in the U.S., not some foreign hellhole. And there were other women here as well.
She arched her back and found she had no pain. She brushed the hair from her forehead, opened her eyes and began to feel her life had been spared so she could exact revenge. That required clear-headedness, planning. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed the screaming voices of insanity rattling around in her brain all the way to the back of her skull, where it could sit in a corner until she was ready to call it out. It was time to focus on what lay in front.
The zip ties they’d fastened to her wrists were easily removed by wiggling the ends back and forth until they crumbled in her fingers. She did the same with her ankle restraints.
“Who’s here?” she called out.
The sobbing stopped immediately.
“I’m Jenna, and I’m here with Shelley. There’s another young girl here, very young, but she doesn’t speak English.”
“Anyone know how long I’ve been here?” Donna asked.
“They brought you in this morning.”
“Okay, I’m Donna. Coming over. Don’t be afraid,” she said.
She felt her way on the concrete floor stained with water and what smelled like blood, until her eyes adjusted and she could see the outline of three women in seated position.
SEAL Brotherhood Lucas Page 19