Immersing herself in the project, she called Mrs. Hoffman and scheduled an initial appointment, then called the usual contractors to see what their schedules were like. The two detectives were sitting on the porch of the bungalow. They were kind enough to ask what Monique and Lara wanted for lunch. A delivery from the deli arrived. They worked all day, as if everything was normal, but it wasn’t. Lara kept waiting for the Mustang to reappear, or to turn around and see Aaron or Tim. Even though the detectives were hanging around, she felt uneasy but didn’t let Monique know.
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba
~ Ben ~
The cruise ship was scheduled to leave Guantanamo Bay Cuba at 8:00 AM. It was sunny and warm with calm seas. Ben imagined Lara was home now, probably preparing to take Einstein for his morning beach walk then head into the office.
Ben had watched the sun as it rose, painting the sky a pale shade of pink, then gold. On a computer screen he focused on Captain Gooding as he expertly moved the cruise ship away from its mooring. Fifty miles out he would cut the engines and make a call to the Coast Guard for assistance. Ben watched and waited patiently as he tracked the ship on the computer screen. The GPS coordinates were fed to him via a geo-synchronous satellite that was accurate within several inches. Two cooks and three stewards were aboard with 132 terrorists-cargo...Ben didn’t like to think of them as passengers. These bastards would not be returning to the battlefield. They were on his turf now.
The text to Becker was sent as the ship cruised to the exact longitude and latitude Ben had planned. He heard Captain Gooding’s call for help to the Coast Guard Cutter, Reliance.
“Mayday-Mayday-Mayday, This is The Fiesta, 50 nautical miles northeast of Guantanamo Bay Cuba. Six crew, 132 passengers. Engine problems. Possible tow. Can remain afloat but no steerage. Engine room alarm sounding. Description of our vessel: The Fiesta is a 500 meter cruise ship with special mission. Over.”
Ben listened as Captain Becker responded. “Fiesta, this is the U.S. Coast Guard Reliance. We are approximately 25 nautical miles away due west. Do you copy?”
Captain’s Gooding’s call for help was answered and now Ben would wait as the Coast Guard approached the vessel. Moshe walked into the room and broke the tension. “How’s it going?”
“According to plan, so far.” Ben didn’t move. “I just hope this goes smoothly. Plan B is not the option I want to go with.
“You mean boarding the vessel and taking it?” Moshe asked.
“Yes, they’re SEALs, and they’d make pretty good pirates, but I don’t want my men put into that situation. It’s important this goes the way I originally planned.” Ben exhaled. He didn’t realize he had been breathing shallowly. “Would you be a good soldier and get me a coffee?”
Moshe left the room and came back with the coffee, in a giant plastic cup just the way Ben liked it, fresh, strong and black, borderline espresso. Captain Becker wore a communication device and Ben could hear the conversation. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Becker pulled alongside the disabled Fiesta and asked Captain Gooding to board the Coast Guard vessel. Ben listened to the conversation as the Coast Guard Captain asked for paperwork, and then pretended to call a towing company.
Meanwhile, one of the Coast Guard ensigns boarded the Fiesta, and the crew lined up providing their paperwork. The ensign acted like something was amiss with the paperwork. The five crew members were marched onto the U.S. Coast Guard vessel Reliance for further scrutiny. Within minutes, Ben heard the roar of the motors. He watched the Reliance on the computer screen as it pulled away at a good rate of speed. He inhaled and waited as the longitude and latitude of the Reliance made its mark. It was at that moment he dialed a phone number. The first ring set off the explosive devices attached to the bottom of the Fiesta. The second ring set off the C4 devices placed above the waterline.
The new generation C4 was incredibly powerful, nearly ninety percent explosive, with twice the crushing power of dynamite. The 500-foot vessel exploded. A minute passed.
Captain Becker on the Reliance keyed his microphone and said simply uttered, “Holy shit, she’s gone.” It wasn’t until that moment that Ben allowed himself to exhale a deep sigh of relief.
Although the explosion was fifty miles offshore, he witnessed the first wisps of black smoke on the horizon. He knew the explosion blew the vessel into splinters of fiberglass, the diesel fuel caught fire and floated atop the ocean water. The bodies would be blown to bits. Pieces and parts of the ship had shattered and embedded into them. If anyone lived through that impact, they’re odds of survival would be a few minutes, but most would perish immediately upon detonation. There would be body parts floating in the ocean. The sharks would have a feeding frenzy long before anyone could get to the vessel or figure out what had happened.
Moshe walked back inside the room. Ben smiled at him, “We’ve got a plane to pack. When the Dark Horse guys come back in, we need to move.”
“All is well. I can tell by your smile.” Moshe responded.
“One hundred and thirty-two less…” Ben said flatly. “But we have miles to go before we sleep.”
The C-130J was refueled and already being packed for the long trip back to the Middle East, first to Israel, then Pakistan, where Ben couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into the last leg of the mission. He was elated the flight would last fourteen hours. This meant he could sleep — really sleep — and he pulled Lara’s shirt out of his backpack and reclined the seat fully. After drinking a bottle of spring water, he laid on his side and bunched Lara’s shirt up for a pillow. For a moment he thought about how crazy his life was. The rules of the games he played kept changing. In his world nothing was stable, except Lara. She was the one constant he could be sure of. Willfully, he succumbed to the sleep that overtook him, inhaling the scent of his wife, missing her more than ever.
Eight hours later, he woke to the sound of the landing gear clicking and the jet engines throttling back. Refueling in Bermuda, the men stepped off the plane but remained on the tarmac as fresh food was delivered. Within an hour, they were wheels up destined for Israel. From there, the team would travel to Pakistan, one of the places Ben seemed drawn to like a magnet. As miserable a place as it was, it did have its appeal: the whole country was akin to a huge tenement filled with rats and his task was to rid it of vermin in a systematic manner.
Thank goodness decent food was delivered to the plane during the refueling. A steward brought him a tray with fresh vegetables and chicken. Not the frozen stuff. This was the real thing. He ate hungrily, and noted the silence on the plane as the team did the same. He’d lost at least five pounds since he started this journey. He knew the food in Pakistan would be putrid. They’d load up with protein snacks and MRE’s at the base in Israel.
~ Lara ~
Returning home to Clearwater Farm with her protectors in tow, Lara began feeling the oppression of being watched, not so much by the detectives as the two in the Mustang. She dialed the police station and spoke to Captain Redman, the man in charge of the case.
“I was just going to call you, Mrs. Keegan,” Redman sounded surprised.
“What’s up?” Lara asked.
“We know more about Aaron Brown and Tim Crosby. They are college students at the university where your husband teaches. These two originally lived in New York City before coming to Portland. Our counter-terrorism connections with the NYPD gave us a massive of information about them. Would you mind if I stopped by to go over a few things with you?”
“That would be fine. I’ll be here.” Lara ended the call while many thoughts swirled through her mind. It couldn’t be good news if the captain of special investigations was dropping by personally.”
Monique was in the kitchen making a salad. “Why the sad face?”
Lara didn’t know what to say. “We’ll be having a visitor in a few minutes…Captain Redman. He has some information he wants to give us, but wanted to talk with us in person.”
“Oh, that can’t be good.” Monique�
��s brows knit together with concern.
“No. I was thinking the same.” Lara stared into space.
When Redman arrived, his car whisked down the long driveway. With a bounce in his step he approached the porch door. Lara greeted him, “Hello, come in.”
He removed his coat and Lara took it for him. Damn, if he’s taking off his coat, this was probably going to be a long drawn out conversation. “Can I get you a coffee or something to drink?”
He was a medium-sized man, with a muscled build beneath the suit. The permanent furrow in his brow made her think he was probably forty years old, with a wife, kids and a mortgage. Lots on his mind. He wore glasses and had the appearance of Clark Kent, minus the superman shirt. He sat at the table in the kitchen with Lara serving coffee. Monique joined them.
“Lovely old place you have here.” Redman started out smiling. He was trying to be nice, because he probably had something earthshattering to tell them.
Monique was staring at him, as if waiting for the words to tumble out of his mouth.
“Thank you,” Lara responded. “What information are you going to give us?”
Captain Redman’s face changed to a solemn stare. He removed his glasses and closed his eyes for a moment before putting them back on. His dark eyes met hers as if he was trying to gauge her reaction before he spoke. “I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s been an intelligence leak in Washington…your husband’s name has been given to some very bad people…terrorists, actually.”
“So, that’s why Aaron Brown and Tim Crosby are following us?” Lara shot back.
“Yes. They’ve been contacted by someone in Pakistan. Brown and Crosby are college students, but they’re part of a sleeper cell here in the United States, ready, willing and able to do the bidding of someone wielding a lot of power and money.” Redman exhaled as if that was only part one of the bad news.
“There’s more….” Lara prompted him.
“Yes. The mission your husband is on has been compromised. The targets he is hunting have been tipped off. They know he is coming for them and the most likely scenario is not good.” Redman could barely get the words out.
“What’s the likely scenario?” Lara leaned forward and stared into his eyes.
“These men…the ones your husband is hunting down…they may be hunting him.” Redman closed his eyes after saying the words and swallowed hard. He removed his glasses once more and set them on the table. “Please, understand, we are doing everything in our power right now to communicate with your husband and the others working with him. But of utmost importance, we have reason to believe the terrorists know your name, know that you’re his wife, and you have become a valuable possession to them right now. We need to keep you safe.”
Lara felt the wave of nausea hit her before the rage began. “Who leaked this information? I want to know!”
“I don’t know.” Captain Redman tried to calm her by touching her hand on the table. “Look, we --- I’m doing everything possible. Please understand…”
Whatever he said after that was a moot point, as far as Lara was concerned. Ben was in danger. She was in danger. Monique was in danger. And the only feeling flooding Lara’s veins was pure rage.
It was as if Captain Redman read her mind. “And, don’t call anyone and tell them about this. The less people involved, the better.”
“Tell me this,” Lara posited. “Is the FBI involved in this? The CIA? The Special Activities Director? Is the executive office at the white house aware?”
Redman looked away. “All of the people who need to be involved already know about this, Mrs. Keegan. Trust me. We are doing all that we can.”
Lara never felt comfortable with anyone who said the words “trust me.” And, she certainly did not feel any sense of security at this moment. Berating Redman wasn’t going to get her anywhere, this much she knew. She thanked him for coming, and for the round-the-clock protection and sent him on his way. As she watched his vehicle leave the driveway, she knew in her heart, that she’d need to defend herself, and Monique would need to learn how to shoot a gun in a short period of time.
She picked up her cell phone and dialed the one man she always knew she could count on.
Pakistan
~ Ben ~
Pakistan during rainy season was every bit as charming as Pakistan during dry season. As the armored Humvees made their way toward the border, Ben was painfully aware that insertion was the most dangerous aspect of the mission. According to statistics, most missions were aborted before they got underway due to detection by the enemy. Dressed as Pakistanis, Moshe’s unit and Ben’s team blended into the landscape. If stopped they had plenty of cigarettes and money to pass out to the corrupt government officials and all of the men spoke the dialect of the region.
The danger was being stopped by those they were chasing. If made, they’d be taken captive, tortured and killed. Not a cheerful scenario to ponder, but the thought kept the team hyper-vigilant. Strict attention was paid attention to every detail of their surroundings. Several drones followed their movements, and F4 Phantoms were ready to scramble from Israel within a moment’s notice. But none of these things made Ben feel totally confident. When you came right down to it, nothing ever did.
The American people were being lied to on a daily basis by those in power. However, there was a delicate balance. Those at the top didn’t want to cause panic, create hysteria, get those 300 million guns out there locked and loaded. The U.S. government feared the gun-toting patriotic, second amendment lovers more than they did radical terrorists – go figure. And, there were times when Ben actually wondered which side his own government was on.
At the very top levels, there existed an inexplicable bond with the Muslims attacking the United States and everything it stood for. Yet there was no will to go after these enemies of the state on the battlefield. Why? The president was actually talking to Iran about nuclear weapons and crafting an agreement that would allow them to build one. There were a far too many Islamists serving in high positions in the very agencies tasked with keeping the country safe. Had the fox been in the hen house for so long, the hens were afraid to even make a sound? Or, was the commander-in-chief’s ego so big he wanted to be known for shutting down all defense of Iraq, Afghanistan, shuttering Guantanamo, Bagram, and letting every terrorist go? Hell, next on his agenda would be to open all of the prisons in the United States and unleash a torrent of crime the likes that had never been seen. That would fundamentally change America. It would destroy it.
This was either ego-maniacal leadership or blind stupidity; what’s worse, it could be both. It didn’t matter what name you gave it. What mattered, was how the United States of America, the greatest country in the history of mankind, was being taken apart brick by brick. Laws were being broken at the highest levels. The constitution of the greatest country in the world was being trampled upon. There was no doubt any longer. Four star generals at the Pentagon were boldly speaking out publically about the actions being taken at the top. And no one could stop it. To say this was frustrating would be an understatement. But for Lieutenant Ben Keegan, these actions were undermining his cause, his reason to exist.
Ben focused on killing those he was being paid to eliminate. The list was long. Guantanamo detainees was such a nice way to describe these butchers in the comfort of a congressional meeting room. But Ben knew what they really were, who they really were. To call them animals would insult animals, for animals paired off in the beauty of the natural world and nurtured their young. Animals didn’t kill their own, rape them and burn them to death. They didn’t subjugate other animals to slavery. Animals didn’t plot and plan to destroy the earth and all who disagreed with them.
No. The men he was hunting were no longer human and they didn’t deserve to be labeled animals; they’d morphed into satanic demons. That’s why pulling the trigger, putting the bullet through their skulls, left him cold. There would be no fist-bumps or selfies after the killing was done. He’d le
ave that to the oval office. Lieutenant Ben Keegan didn’t have his ego in the game; only his head was in this game, because this was being played for the highest stakes. As far as he was concerned, losing was not an option.
Recent Guantanamo prisoners released had scattered across the Pakistani landscape like the cockroaches that they were. They thought they were hidden, but he knew their locations. The biggest catch of all would be Salib Madi. Ben wanted to take him alive, if possible, for rendition.
The normally temperate weather was much cooler than usual. The unrelenting rain delayed their arrival to the first stop, the city of Khost in Afghanistan, bordering Pakistan. Disguised as Punjab Pakistanis, the team took the up-armored Humvees over the highway at a reduced rate of speed due to the heavy rain. Shit. He hated rain. Besides interfering with safe travel, the mud it created sometimes gave too much away when it came to footprints and tire marks. But the driving rain today was unrelenting, causing flooding, washing everything away, even parts of roads.
To make matters worse, Moshe’s vehicle broke down half way to Dera Ghazi Khan.
“Damn,” Moshe muttered into his com. “We’ve got a flat. Got to pull into Bhakkar. One of my guys knows the area. Can you drift into the market area down the street from where I’ll stop?”
“No problem. Let me know when you’re back on the road.” Ben uttered, feeling a sense of dread. “Damn, I hate it when unexpected shit happens.”
Elvis gave him a sidelong glance. “You think this is trouble?”
Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4) Page 9