by Jay Deb
Omar and Janco had lived in the house for a few days now, surviving on stored food such as rice, lentils, dried goat meat, and some wilted vegetables. Omar could have gotten supplies from a nearby market, but he’d decided not to set his foot outside the house till he saw two and a half million dollars deposited in his account.
They had been cooking food on an electric heater once a day. Electricity was present only for about six hours a day. So whenever it was there, they took baths and prepared their food as quickly as they could. But what Omar missed the most was spirits. Alcohol was like air to him; he felt like a fish taken out of water after only two days at that house. Why didn’t the guy leave a few bottles of rum or whisky?
He longed for a good hotel and his house back in Italy, where his hired girlfriend was living and drinking his expensive liquor. But he also wanted to show Javed and the world that he couldn’t be tricked into giving up his goods before getting paid in full.
“I’m going outside,” Janco said, after eating his lunch. He was on the ground floor. “Nature’s call.”
The house wasn’t equipped with toilets, so its inhabitants had to use the nearby field as an open toilet.
“I told you never go out during daylight,” Omar barked from his room upstairs as soon as he heard Janco.
“What can I do when the pressure comes? My colon does not know that the CIA might be watching from above from their darn satellites.”
Omar had noticed Janco had become bolder, and it showed in Janco’s words. “Do what you have to do. Just don’t go outside.”
Janco climbed up the stairs and soon stood in front of Omar, who was relaxing on the bed after a heavy lunch.
“I don’t want to stink up this place. I’ll hold it,” Janco said. “How long are we staying here?”
“Just a day or two, my friend,” Omar said, staring at the ceiling. “No more than that.”
“What if the CIA or FBI comes here?”
“Don’t worry, my friend. I got lots of weapons.”
“I’ve seen the firearms upstairs. Guns and rifles. Impressive. But what if they bring lots of soldiers? What good will the weapons do? It’ll be them versus one person – you.”
“If that happens, we’ll just run away.”
“Where will we run away? There is no place to hide in this desolate area.”
“I’ve drawn a getaway plan. Don’t worry.”
“What’s the plan, and where will we go?” Janco asked.
“Shut up and go take a nap.” Omar turned to face away from Janco. He did make a backup plan to flee in case the CIA appeared at his door again, but it was a plan that relied on sacrificing Janco rather than saving him.
It was plan C, which Omar hoped he wouldn’t have to execute.
Chapter 42 Ankara
The good news came three days later.
“We spotted the bastard,” Doerr’s handler said in a joyful voice to Doerr. “Omar is holed up in a house about a hundred miles north of Ankara.”
It was the same man who’d told Doerr days earlier that his services were no longer needed in the mission. But Doerr never harbored a grudge. The success of the mission was the only thing he cared about. Conceivably the handler had been kept on the job for now because he was familiar with the parties involved in the mission.
“Can you tell how many men there are in the house?” Doerr asked.
“No. We don’t know and we aren’t sending anyone near that house. We want a foolproof system this time to bring Janco back to America.”
“What about Omar? What’s the agency’s plan for him? Do we also take him to America? Or what?”
“See, Mr. Doerr, as of now America doesn’t have an enmity with Omar. So we may wish to let him go.”
“Let him go?” Doerr could hardly believe his ears. “Are you crazy? He is our worst enemy right now!”
“No. Our worst enemy is Janco, who is about to work for a rogue country. And–”
“And Omar is delivering Janco,” Doerr interrupted. “So they are both enemies. Equally.”
“Let me finish, Mr. Doerr. We let Omar go if he peacefully hands Janco to us.”
“You want me to make a deal with a guy like Omar?”
“Why not? We do, when it’s necessary. We even made a deal with the Taliban. Remember?”
Doerr wasn’t going to let Omar live. For him, Omar was the first target and Janco was the second. But he couldn’t say that to his handler. “But the chance of Omar simply handing over Janco to us is zilch. Don’t you think?”
“Actually it’s not. Some of the communications between Omar and his counterpart indicate there is haggling going on for a million dollars.”
“Why would the state be haggling over a million dollars? They’ve got lots of money.”
“Yes. I know and that’s why it’s so baffling. It may be because the middleman is trying to take the money for himself, or maybe the country’s coffers dried up due to sanctions and all.”
“It’s also possible that there is some power struggle going on in Iran’s power hierarchy and someone is trying to prove something to someone. But honestly none of this really matters to us. Our mission is to kill the bastard Omar and take Janco back to America. Don’t make it more complicated than what it is.”
“I disagree, Mr. Doerr. Like I said before, this time we must hatch a foolproof operation to take back Janco. We failed once. So it’s necessary to understand what’s going on in that house.”
“So what do you say we do?” Doerr knew that bureaucracy always wanted to slow operations down and he wasn’t going to let that happen. “Just sit and wait? And later find out Omar is gone. Janco is gone. I’ve already discussed this matter with Stonewall. She has given me the go-ahead.”
“I know that. But she doesn’t decide the plan. Now, try to keep calm, Mr. Doerr. The situation demands it. But I agree with you that we need to work fast. But not irresponsibly fast. Let’s discuss how we’re going to attack, if and when we attack. Now let’s figure out all the details.”
Their discussion continued, and ten minutes later, the handler said, “Just to sum it up. A man named Harry Conner, an ex-Green Beret, will accompany you to Omar’s house. You will lead and Conner will mostly cover your back. Conner has been handpicked by Director Stonewall herself. And, Mr. Doerr, I’m sorry for what I told you a few days back. About you being relieved. I really am. The director had a call with the attorneys at the Justice Department. Everything is resolved now. Sometimes they just get too excited.”
“It’s okay. We’re all human.”
CONNER WAS OVER six feet tall and had a muscular body. He and Doerr looked almost the same except that Conner had a medium-size potbelly, whereas Doerr’s was flat. Conner and Doerr shared the three-hour drive from Ankara to Omar’s house and rehearsed their strategy. They drove an old black Dodge Charger and discussed a lot of things. Conner appeared to be a capable man, worthy of trust. He’d been a member of 3-71 Cavalry and had fought in Afghanistan.
Doerr stopped the vehicle about half a mile away from Omar’s house. It was twilight; the sun was setting, and only a thin red hue could be seen on the horizon, soon to be engulfed by darkness.
He shut the ignition off and pulled out a pair of binoculars and held it against his eyes.
The wooden two-story, ill-maintained house stood like a poor man on the dry land with little vegetation. Doerr could see another house, about five hundred feet behind Omar’s, next to a thicket, looking to be in even worse condition than Omar’s. Doerr doubted if the second house had any inhabitants.
An antenna stuck out from the top of Omar’s house, conceivably for a TV or maybe a communication device. It was a new moon night and soon everything became dark. They had only one pair of working ATN PVS7 night-vision goggles; the other pair had been damaged. With those goggles on, Doerr watched the house for a while, then started the car’s ignition, drove slowly under the cover of darkness, and stopped behind a dead tree about three hundred feet away from the h
ouse. Thirty minutes passed, and Doerr continued to observe the house and its surroundings.
“How long are we going to wait, boss?” Conner asked.
“Five more minutes,” Doerr said. “Patience.”
“Nothing seems to move here,” Conner said, pointing to Omar’s house. “I wonder if they’ve left already.”
“Be patient. We have to wait. We may not even get in there today if I don’t get a good gut feeling.”
“I agree. But didn’t the satellite images confirm that Omar and Janco are in there and the techies believe no one else is in that house.”
“The techies can only guess. But we’ve got to be a hundred percent correct. Someone other than Omar and Janco may be hiding in there.”
“But I’m afraid a delay isn’t good in this situation. By delaying, aren’t we losing the element of surprise?”
“No.” Doerr was becoming annoyed by Conner’s chatty nature. “Just shut up and wait.”
Doerr kept visually inspecting the house, looking for some sign of life or weapons. If Omar did some shooting practice there, empty cartridges could be found on the ground, and their size would indicate what kind of weapon Omar had. Unfortunately, Doerr saw none.
A half hour later, Conner took a can of soda out of his bag, cracked the can open, and started sipping. “How much longer?”
“Let me ask you something, Harry,” Doerr said. He started regretting that he had an impatient and talkative partner. “Do you have a family?”
“Yes.”
“You love them dearly? Don’t you?”
“Of course. What kind of question is that?”
“Then do as I say. Wait. Don’t get antsy.”
Conner sipped his drink quietly, and he stopped talking.
Doerr took off the goggles and handed them to Conner. “Tell me what you see.”
Conner pressed them against his eyes. “Oh God!”
“Tell me what you see!”
“A man!” Conner said as he leaned forward. “He has something in his hand and he’s walking.”
“Keep looking.”
“He’s moving behind some plants and sitting down. What’s he doin’?”
“That means there isn’t any toilet in the house. Give them to me.” Doerr took the goggles.
Conner took his loaded M-16 rifle from the rear seat and opened the door.
Doerr asked, “What are you going to do?”
“We have to shoot the man!”
“No. We don’t.” Doerr gave Conner the glasses.
Conner took the goggles and put them on. “The man is going back to the house,” Conner said in an agitated manner and opened the door again. “We must kill him.” He put his right leg out.
“No. We don’t.” Doerr grabbed Conner’s shoulder. “Shut the fucking door and look closer,” Doerr whispered angrily.
“The man is inside the house now.” Now it was Conner’s turn to bark angrily. “You might regret this later. We should’ve killed him.”
“Did you look closer, Harry? That man was Janco, the man we’re supposed to take back to America alive. How could we do that if you killed him?”
Conner shrugged but wasn’t ready to back down. “Our mission is to kill him if we can’t take him back alive.”
“Yes, that’s why we have to first try to capture him.”
For the next five minutes, Doerr just sat there. He knew he was angry, and he wanted to cool off before resuming work.
Doerr tapped on Conner’s shoulder and asked in a friendly manner, “What do you see now, Captain?”
“Nothing. No movement,” Conner said glumly, obviously still angry with Doerr. He brought the goggles down to his lap.
“Did you see that big dumpster in front of the house?”
“Yes.” Conner raised the goggles to his eye level, trying to take another peek.
“What do you think of it?”
“It’s used to store garbage,” Conner said, doubting his own words.
“No. Its purpose is something else. In this part of the world, people don’t put garbage in a can that a garbage man will pick up the next morning.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know either,” Doerr said. “That’s why I asked you. There’s nothing lying around it from this angle. I don’t like that dumpster. Let’s see it from another angle.” Doerr cranked on the vehicle’s ignition. The engine hummed to life and then Doerr started driving slowly on the dirt road.
A few minutes later, Doerr stopped, watched the dumpster, and then said, “I think it’ll be unwise to drive anymore. We’ve got to move on foot now.”
“Finally, time to move, huh,” Conner said jovially. He seemed to be happy at last. Conner stepped out of the vehicle, opened the rear door, and retrieved his backpack. He hung his rifle on his left shoulder and patted the gun in his holster.
Doerr got out of the vehicle, closed the door silently, and kept his Glock in his left hand, the goggles pressed against his eyes.
Both men had helmets, vests, and other protective gear on.
It was dark, only a thin slice of the moon and the stars visible. As Doerr approached Omar’s house, it stood there like a skeleton against the starlit sky.
Soon, Doerr was near the garbage can.
“Should I open it?” Conner asked.
“No,” Doerr almost shouted and then lowered his voice. “Let’s check that first.” He pointed to the door and tiptoed toward it. Conner followed.
With a tiny flashlight, Doerr examined the door and its frame, expecting to see a miniature camera poking its head through a hole or a crack in the wood. He found none. He turned his head up and saw a quiet sky, looking like an eerie reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Doerr knew that he could lose his life tonight. A booby trap, a bullet from nowhere, a moment’s lapse in his alertness – and his body would be lying on the ground, to be fed to the hungry eagles later.
“Should we just break through it?” Conner said, pointing to the door.
“No,” whispered Doerr. He opened his backpack and pulled out a rope. He tied one end of the cord to the door’s handle.
“Now hide behind the house and make sure that can is out of your view,” said Doerr, pointing to the garbage can that lay about twenty feet away.
Conner hid behind the house. Doerr let the rope loose and tiptoed to the side of the house, making sure that garbage can was out of his sight. He pulled the rope; it was taut, and then he pulled it with the strength of every muscle of his body.
Doerr felt the door opening, and then he heard the loud sound of a ground-shaking explosion and the shrapnel hitting the walls of the house. Instantly, he knew what had just happened. That garbage can had exploded. It was a booby trap designed by Omar to go off when the door opened. It was placed outside so that parts of the bomb would hit the intruder but leave the house intact, with maybe some minor damage to the walls.
Doerr watched small fires from the explosion burning here and there. No time to lose. He pulled his wireless device and said, “Go.” It was a code for Conner to meet him where he had met him last, at the door.
Once Conner came, Doerr handed the goggles to him. Seconds later, Doerr entered the house, followed by Conner, hoping there would be some light inside. But he was disappointed. As he moved in, darkness engulfed him. He reached his hand out for the walls, trying to feel them. Sensing bullets might fly his way anytime, he took out a specialized device from his backpack and threw it on the floor. The device lit up and thin esoteric blue light exuded from it. It was enough for Doerr to see everything.
Inside, there was a small space that led to the stairs. Doors of the two rooms on the ground floor were open. Doerr quickly checked them. Empty.
Having created a mental map of the house, Doerr reached for the luminous device, planning to turn it off. A series of bullets rained from upstairs. In a reflex action, Doerr moved to the side and pressed his body against the wall. He looked up but didn’t see anyone. Doerr visually scanne
d the area. He gestured Conner, who was still standing near the door, to move toward the stairs.
Soon, Doerr and Conner started climbing the stairs silently. It was all dark, but Doerr’s eyes had gotten used to the darkness, and using his hands on the walls, he had a good sense of what was where. When they took the turn at the staircase, a series of bullets passed inches from his left shoulder. Both men quickly retreated and hid behind the wall.
Conner shook his head, venting frustration.
“Should I run?” Conner asked. Run meant whether he should quickly ascend the stairs and confront Omar or whoever was upstairs.
“No. I’ll do that when the time is right,” Doerr said. “You wait here and come upstairs only after I give the signal.”
“Okay.” Conner nodded.
Five minutes later, Doerr climbed the stairs and stood in the second-floor hallway. A rain of bullets fell on him, one hitting his helmet, another one striking his shoulder pad. Apparently Omar had night-vision goggles and Doerr didn’t.
Doerr had trained for this type of situation, where he’d expose to the oncoming bullets only those body areas, like a padded shoulder, that had protection. He returned fire and quickly retreated to the stairs, but the rain of bullets continued from Omar.
When it stopped briefly, Doerr ran up the stairs like a deer shot in the neck. No more shots came from Omar, just like he’d hoped. Omar must have used up all his ammo, and now he had retreated to one of the rooms to reload. The question was – which one?
Doerr took the goggles from Conner, put them on, and looked around. There was one room on the right and two on the left. Suddenly the door to one of the rooms opened and Omar appeared, holding an Uzi. From his Glock, Doerr fired a few shots at Omar and immediately returned to the stairs, where the wall protected him from the raining bullets from the Uzi. He gave the goggles back to Conner, who had so far been standing on the stairs like a blind man.
Doerr lay down on the stairs and poked his helmeted head out, offering it as a shooting target to Omar. As expected, a volley of bullets flew to his head, and Doerr returned fire and retracted promptly.