Most of the intruders had moved to the back rooms to free the prisoners. I had to check Jackson. It only took me a moment to determine he was dead. He had four or five wounds that each would’ve been fatal on their own.
I glanced around the room quickly. I made sure no one was paying any attention to me. I grabbed the pistol Jackson had stuck into the back of his belt. I slipped it under my shirt.
It was time for me to get out of there. Just as I was about to head for the door, I had to stop and take a closer look at the box that was going to be my casket. I kneeled down next to it and ran my hand across the bottom.
The hidden compartment had been professionally made. It was also lined with lead. As I was about to stand up, it hit me. I suddenly understood what was in Allmand’s backpack.
The sick Pakistani, the hidden compartment, obvious contraband, and the lead lining the hidden compartment told me they were trying to smuggle plutonium. Probably plutonium from Pakistan. They would have plenty of buyers willing to pay big money if they got it out of the country. I shuddered when I thought about what it might ultimately be used for. Anything from a dirty bomb that could be set off in New York to a series of pellets used to irradiate water supplies or something else.
These guys were terrible. The worst. They talked about securing the US and fighting terrorists, but if they could make money, they’d work with them just as easily.
A thick man in western clothing shouted at me. I didn’t know what he shouted, but I pointed toward the back of the house. The man marched right up to me and without warning yanked the pillowcase from my face.
He growled something in Pashto. He turned his head to shout at the people in the other room.
I couldn’t risk him getting help. I swung as hard as I could and caught him right across the chin with my left fist. It was like hitting a light switch. He was unconscious on his feet. I caught him and gently eased him down to the coffin. He was shorter than me, so he fit easily.
I stamped out the flames closest to the coffin. Most of the other little fires looked like they were just causing smoke. One of the men who had been stuck in a cage in the back room ran through the front room. He laughed with two other men running alongside. They never even looked up to see me.
It was time for me to make my escape. Instead of running, I walked out the door as if I was supposed to be there. I didn’t head to the front of the house. That was too obvious. I slipped to the rear.
Now I was on my own in Afghanistan. Great.
CHAPTER 45
I KNEW DAVID Allmand had escaped out the rear of the house. Personally, I didn’t care if I ever saw that asshole again. I didn’t have any real urge to get even with him. All I wanted to do was make sure no one bothered me or my family again. I was pretty confident that goal had been achieved.
But there’s no way I could let someone like him get away with plutonium. There was no telling what he might do with it or who he might sell it to. I surveyed the area and saw a gap in the fence behind the house. Logically, I decided that’s where Allmand fled.
The hole led to a long grassy alley. It was just a gap between houses on different streets. I just guessed and turned right and started jogging away from the house. There was no one chasing me. I just hoped to pick up Allmand’s track.
Every time there was a break in a fence or between two houses, I looked out on the streets on either side of the alley. It felt like more and more people were pouring into the streets. Rumors of a house holding prisoners in a neighborhood like this would inflame people. I couldn’t blame them. I sort of did the same thing when I found out there was a prison near my home in Marlboro.
I noticed many of the people on the street had weapons. Mostly just sticks or garden tools. Every once in a while I saw someone with an AK-47. I even saw two different men carrying rocket-propelled grenade launchers. One of them had what looked like a homemade RPG launcher. It looked a little like an old-style bazooka, only smaller and lighter. It was designed to sit on someone’s shoulder and fire into the line of sight.
I had my head on a swivel and was starting to sweat from running and the heat. My legs were still shaky from my captivity. But it sure did feel good to be outside and moving.
Just as I was about to give up searching in this direction, I saw someone ahead of me running from cover to cover. The runner used the fence, and then a bush, then an old abandoned Cadillac to hide.
I picked up my pace and started running hard in a straight line toward the figure. My lungs started to burn. All I could think about was the plutonium and all the people that might be at risk if Allmand managed to sell it.
When I was within fifty feet, the man turned and I could see clearly that it was Allmand. He no longer seemed interested in me, and just wanted to get away. He gave up his idea to run from hiding place to hiding place, and just started to dash away from me. I followed, running as hard as I could.
He stopped fifty feet in front of me. In a smooth motion, he reached behind his back and pulled a pistol. He fired two quick shots at me.
I fell to the ground and tried to use a garbage can as cover. I fired back at him three times. The problem, I knew, was that the gunshots would attract people. Both the curious and the well armed.
Allmand scurried along the fence line then turned left, cutting through someone’s yard. I followed only to slow down when I reached the fence. I held up the pistol and cut the corner in increments, trying to avoid being ambushed.
Then I caught a glimpse of Allmand ahead of me. I considered dropping to my knee, stabilizing my hand and trying to hit him even from this distance. Just as the thought crossed my mind, I saw Allmand step out in the road and point his gun at someone.
A blue Peugeot sedan screeched to a halt right in front of him. He moved quickly to the driver’s-side door and pulled a woman from the car. He yanked her out by her arm then discarded her on the road. The woman screamed, then sobbed once she hit the asphalt.
I broke into an all-out run. I didn’t even change my trajectory when he fired another round at me. Then I saw the Peugeot pull away. I skidded to a stop in the street. I fired two wild shots at the fleeing vehicle. All I managed to do was knock out the rear window.
Allmand was escaping with the plutonium.
CHAPTER 46
I IMMEDIATELY TURNED and checked on the woman that Allmand had dragged out of the Peugeot. She was dressed in western clothes: a long skirt and long-sleeve shirt. She was in her thirties and still shaken, crying and muttering in Pashto.
I asked her in English if she was okay and she nodded. I helped her to her feet. Then she hugged me tightly. Just an emotional reaction to a traumatic event. I held her for a few seconds, then I turned and saw the car disappearing down the street. Just as I was about to give up hope of catching Allmand, a streak of light cut across the road and struck the Peugeot.
There was a bright light and a moment later the sound of the explosion. Someone had fired a rocket-propelled grenade at the car. The blast lifted it off the street more than five feet and flipped it on its side. The car made a horrible screeching sound as it slid across the rough asphalt and came to rest in a ditch on the side of the road.
I gently released the woman and started jogging toward the car. I knew there was a danger in this, but I needed to secure the plutonium. I had no idea what I would do if I confronted whoever fired that RPG.
As I got closer to the car, another flash popped up in my vision. Another RPG sailed across the street and struck the bottom of the Peugeot, now lying on its side. This time it ignited the gas tank and the explosion was spectacular.
The concussion was enough to knock me off my feet. All I could do was stare as the fireball climbed into the sky. By the time I’d managed to stand up, the entire car was nothing but a giant ball of flames.
A group of four or five men came from the direction the RPG was fired. Each of them was armed and I saw the last man had the launcher across his back. I immediately eased to the side of the road, then
ducked into the ditch that the car ultimately slid in a block ahead of me.
I couldn’t see anything near the car because of the smoke and flames. The men circled it a couple of times, but multiple small explosions from the vehicle kept pushing them back.
I didn’t know what fire did to plutonium, but I realized I couldn’t retrieve it right now. I also didn’t want these men to see me. I lay in the weeds like some sort of cement lawn sculpture. I didn’t move a muscle. I felt like I could hear every noise as random shots were fired in the neighborhood and sirens were starting to blare from different sections of the city. I didn’t know if an Afghan police officer would help me. I had no idea what to do other than lay still for a minute and see what happened.
I watched as the men looked around the car some more, then they split up into two groups. Three of them walked away from me, searching the grass and ditch around the car. But two of them started walking toward me.
They hadn’t seen me yet. They were focused on the brush and debris right in front of them. Their eyes were looking down. One man carried an AK-47. The other had some sort of old infantry rifle, possibly British. I had Jackson’s pistol in my hand. The last thing I wanted to do was shoot anyone. I didn’t think these two men approaching me with weapons were gonna give me much choice.
My heart was racing and I could feel the sweat running down my back. My eyes were glued on the two men. The one with the AK-47 could’ve been a former soldier. He handled the AK-47 professionally, using a hand on the pistol grip as well as the stock. Anywhere he turned, the muzzle of the rifle turned.
I felt something on my leg and almost jumped upright. That would’ve been a fatal mistake. I turned my head as quickly as I could without disturbing the weeds around me.
It was the woman who’d been dragged from the Peugeot. She motioned me to follow her. She was lying down in the grass just like me. I didn’t know if she was trying to hide herself or just didn’t want to expose my position. Either way she had more of a plan than me.
I turned and slithered through the weeds like a giant, bulky snake. We didn’t crawl far. She slipped through a break in a chain-link fence, then stood. The men with the rifles never even noticed our escape.
From there I just followed her quick walk down the street. She turned and walked through the front door of a house as if she belonged there.
It turned out she did.
CHAPTER 47
I FOLLOWED HER through the front door and felt a wave of relief when she shut the door behind me and locked the two deadbolts. A man came from another room and embraced the woman. Then two teenagers ran out and hugged her as well.
She spoke to them in Pashto then turned to me and said, “This is my home. You’ll be safe here. My name is Jahan.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Jahan, but I can’t stay here. If they find me, you guys are in terrible danger.”
“We’re in danger all the time. We’ve been at war for almost twenty years. The Taliban, Karzai, they’ve all threatened us at some point. I work for a division of Chase Bank. I know not all Americans are evil.”
“Chase. I had no idea they were in Afghanistan.”
“My division helps fund infrastructure projects. We hold the money until they need it for payroll and supplies, that way it doesn’t end up in politicians’ pockets.”
Her teenage daughter, who looked a lot like her, with a pretty face and big, soulful eyes, looked out the window and spoke to her mother.
Jahan said, “They’re checking each house. It’s only a matter of time before they get here.”
I said, “That means I’ve got to go. Right now.”
“No, we can hide you.”
I shook my head. “It’s far too dangerous. They’ll burn your house down if they find me.” I turned to head for the rear door.
That’s when the husband spoke for the first time. He had a deep voice. He said, “No, they’ll kill without any hesitation.”
“They have to catch me first.”
Jahan said, “They got the other man. The one who took my car.”
That made me think about the blazing Peugeot. I considered my position. The crowd managed to stop David Allmand while he was in a car. I was only on foot. And I had no idea where to go.
The teenage boy chimed in. He had almost no accent. “Are you some kind of special forces soldier?”
“No. I’m not even a soldier. I got kidnapped and escaped.”
Jahan said, “You don’t even know where to go?”
“Do you know where the US base is?”
“Fenty? It’s about eight kilometers south of us. We can hear their helicopters as they fly over sometimes.”
“How often do they fly over?”
“Maybe once or twice a day. It would be a huge risk if you ran out there hoping that one might fly over right now. And that you would be able to get their attention.”
The girl looked out the window again and said, “They are three houses away from us now.”
I couldn’t argue any longer. And I couldn’t risk them. I thanked them all again, then darted out the back door. I crouched, then did a low walk away from the house to make sure no one saw where I came from. On the next street, I heard someone shout. Somehow, without turning around, I knew they had seen me and were shouting about me.
I stood up and started to jog. Then I broke into a run. For some reason I was headed back toward the column of smoke that marked where the burning Peugeot had been hit by the missile. It almost felt like a beacon, drawing me near.
CHAPTER 48
AFTER A COUPLE of quick turns, I found myself in a rough, garbage-filled alley with sprigs of grass mixed in with hardy weeds behind a row of houses. Chunks of cement and building debris made a wiry pattern in the ground. It didn’t seem like anyone was chasing me. At least no one obvious.
Then I heard a shout and only an instant later a gunshot. The bullet struck the dirt right next to me. I fired a round from my pistol, hoping to scare whoever shot at me. I didn’t even see them.
As I ran, I noticed a proper cement wall at the end of the alley. I didn’t know what it was protecting or keeping out but there was no way I’d get over it without someone seeing me. I looked to each side, hoping there’d be a hole in the fence or a way to move laterally, where the men pursuing me wouldn’t see me.
When I was only about twenty-five feet from the wall, I realized I’d run into a dead end. I had made the worst possible choice while escaping. Now my exit was blocked by armed men and I couldn’t fight back effectively.
I turned and saw there were four men in a rough skirmish line walking toward me slowly. One of them raised a rifle. I fired again, then dropped into the weeds.
Instead of a barrage of bullets, there was only silence. I peeked over the weeds and saw the man with the rocket-propelled grenade launcher loading it. That’s when I realized he was just practicing how to use the launcher. It would be much more efficient just to shoot me. But this guy was going to use a rocket.
I got up on my knees ready to bolt if the rocket came right toward me.
He fired and a blast of flame came out of the back of the launcher. The rocket carrying the grenade flew at an odd angle. I knew from my experience with RPGs in training that sometimes older, poorly made rockets didn’t fly straight. This was a perfect example.
It made a corkscrew-like motion and whizzed past me about fifteen feet to my left. It struck the wall at the end of the alley. The concussion and explosion knocked me back down to the ground. A piece of concrete from the wall nicked my cheek. A half an inch higher and it would’ve knocked out my left eye. Instead, I just had a trickle of blood running down my face.
More importantly, now there was a gaping hole in the wall. I was able to jump up and bound toward the wall. I dove through the opening just as the men raised their rifles and started to fire. The wall took all of the gunshots.
I could’ve tried to shoot it out with them from the cover of the wall, but I was d
own to only two bullets. I needed to get out of here quick. The blast and resulting escape route gave me a burst of adrenaline. It’s funny how a rocket will do that to you. I sprang up from the wall and started to run at full speed toward the column of smoke. My plan was to get my bearings from there and decide which direction to run.
There were shouts from the other side of the wall and it sounded like more people were joining the men who shot at me. Briefly, I considered what would happen if I were captured. The idea of being tortured or possibly beheaded did not appeal to me.
Just when I was starting to feel low again, I heard something unusual. At least something I didn’t expect. It was a rhythmic thumping—a helicopter. I crouched and looked up in the sky. Immediately, I saw a black blur coming from the south. A US Army Black Hawk, and it looked like it was ready for action. This wasn’t just a random flight. They were low and hovering in different spots.
The pilot noticed the crowd and the helicopter roared toward me. It hovered almost above me, facing the crowd that was advancing. Now there were at least ten men and several women. There were even three or four kids. No one was brave enough to fire at the helicopter with a rifle. That was smart.
Then the door gunner on the Black Hawk opened up with 50-caliber. It sent a line of bullets a dozen feet in front of the crowd. The bullets chewed up anything they touched. Asphalt was destroyed, a wooden telephone pole broke in half.
The crowd froze. The helicopter hovered above me, facing them like a mean guard dog. The gunner fired a few more rounds. Suddenly, the crowd started to scatter.
I looked over my shoulder. The first person I saw in the doorway of the helicopter was Vicki Jensen. She was directing the gunner where to shoot. She also tossed me a safety harness and line.
I looked around, wondering if someone would take a potshot at me. The Black Hawk had done its job. Everyone had fled.
The River Murders Page 25