Alina's Revenge

by Greg Van Arsdale

  She walked to the side of one of the adobe buildings that lined the street. The street was littered with broken pieces of rock from the houses now ruined by the myriad of bullets and rocket fire. She touched a spot. Blood.

  “Okay people,” The officer said, “let’s pack it up. It’s not safe here.”

  Alina slid around the corner, out of sight.

  She watched the group pile in. They took off their helmets but left on their vests. In less than an hour, their work was done for the day. The bus drove away, leaving Alina alone in the troubled city.

  Chapter 23

  When the bus was out of sight, Alina turned to walk the ruined street. She did not know where she was going, but anywhere would be better than sitting in that journalist barracks all day.

  Women dressed in traditional head-to-toe black garb stopped picking up the rocky pieces of their lives to look at her. Men loitered, smoking foul smelling cigarettes, gazing at her with suspicious eyes.

  Alina had on Western jeans and a T-shirt—not the kind of attire one should wear in the middle of an Iraqi town that had just been blown up by Westerners. She was conspicuous, to say the least.

  She bent down to pick up some of the rocky pieces and tossed them to the side of the road. She had just cleared a small pile when a few when a group of women flocked around her, yelling and gesturing angrily. Alina rose, pieces of building in both hands. The women’s voices rose in pitch. The men left their places to gather around her.

  Alina understood. Time to leave. There was nothing she could do for these people. Not now.

  She dropped the stones and backed away, only to be blocked by more men behind her. Immediately, the gun was in her hand. She swept the crowd. They backed off. Alina pointed in one direction and twitched the gun. The throng parted to let her through.

  Slowly, watching their every move, Alina made her way through the mass. Then she walked away. Rocks and debris the people threw clattered around her, but she did not turn around. She felt bad for these people, caught in the middle of a war they did not want. She knew exactly how they felt.

  Everywhere she went, the scene repeated itself. People gawked at her, glaring at her, throwing stones, and cursing in their native tongue.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought.

  She examined the map the captain had given her. It marked where she was. She looked around, getting her bearings. The air base was about a kilometer to the west. It was safer there. She was not scared. She just did not want to cause these people more pain.

  Alina turned left at the next intersection. The same type of adobe buildings lined the street on either side, each with a four-meter wall surrounding it.

  A white pickup pulled up beside her. In the back were three masked men. They jumped out of the truck and ran toward her. She immediately knew what was going on.

  Alina kicked the lead man in the chest, propelling him into another and knocking both to the ground. The third man came at her from her left. He reached for her. Alina grabbed his arm, turned, and flipped him to the pavement in a rolling hip block.

  The men were up in an instant. They seemed confused, as if they expected an easy smash and grab. Moving cautiously, they circled her. At some silent signal, they moved as one, each coming from a different direction.

  Alina spun and kicked one in the face. He went down. Another grabbed her from behind. She used him as leverage, lifting both feet to hit the second man in the chest.

  The momentum of the kick propelled the man holding her into the wall behind them. His grip loosened. She threw a backhanded elbow to his stomach. The man gasped. She twisted and was free. She whirled, swinging a kick to the man’s face. He slumped to the ground.

  To her right, a man had regained his feet and was coming fast. She lanced a side kick to the head. He went down again.

  She backed away, watching the three men moaning on the ground.

  The driver got out of the pickup with an AK-47 in his hands.

  Alina had no choice. She whipped up the 9mm and fired twice, hitting him in the chest. Keeping her gun trained on the men who were now getting up, she continued backing away. She made it half a block before she turned and walked quickly.

  Three blocks later, two more pickups pulled alongside her. Again, all the men wore ski masks. Eight men in all. Five of them hopped out of the bed of their trucks, each of them armed with an AK.

  Alina fired five times in rapid succession. Five men went down. A man got out of the passenger seat and fired his automatic rifle, etching a straight line across the building behind her. Amazingly, none of the bullets hit Alina. She stood between two bullet holes. She fired back, hitting her attacker in the forehead.

  The drivers of the two trucks drove away, spewing clouds of gaseous fumes in their wake.

  Alina hurried down the street. Only a half-klick from the base now.

  Men appeared on the rooftops, each armed with their ever-present AKs. They opened fire, kicking up chips of pavement and scarring the building behind her.

  Alina shot back. She killed one and clipped the wall in front of another, forcing him to fall back. Then she ducked inside the building immediately behind her.

  A woman screamed. Alina tried calming her down with a hush and extended palm, but it did no good. The woman continued shrieking.

  A man appeared from another room carrying an AK. He turned toward Alina, raising his rifle.

  Alina held out a hand. “No!”

  The man continued his turn. The rifle came up.

  Alina fired low, hitting him in the leg. She did not want to kill the man. He was just protecting his home.

  Her gun slide locked in the open position. She was out of ammunition.

  She ran to pick up his machine gun and hurried back to the doorway. More men lined the top of the opposite buildings. She sprayed a line of bullets beneath them. That backed them off.

  She ejected the clip in her Beretta and jammed in a fresh one, then released the slide. In seconds, she was back in the doorway, sweeping the rooftops and street with the AK. The man moaned behind her. She looked back to see his wife tending to his wound. She was still yelling, gesturing wildly at her husband and the gun.

  Bullets ricocheted off the edge of the door. Alina turned back inside, waiting for the firing to stop. Then she rolled out, returning fire. This time, she aimed to kill.

  She used the AK to sweep the top of the buildings. Three men went down. The gun clicked empty. She dropped it and held the 9mm in her hand, waiting.

  The men must have known her rifle was out of ammo for soon twelve of them reappeared at street level. Alina once again rolled into the open, peeling off five quick rounds. Three men went down. The others kept advancing, all of them shooting. She ducked back as the heavy slugs obliterated the door. There would be no holding them back now.

  Alina dug into her pocket and took out a handful of shells. She began reloading the empty clip while keeping a watchful eye around the door panel. Occasionally, she would fire just to hold them back, and then continue pushing shells into the magazine.

  The men were halfway across the street now. Some of them fired while the rest advanced.

  Once more, Alina rolled out, but this time their withering assault forced an early retreat. Resting her back against the thick adobe wall, she waited. Take them when they come through the door, she thought. That’s the choke point.

  A thunderous volley erupted in the street, but these shots did not sound like the rest. They were deeper, heavier. She peeked around the edge to see some of the men had turned and were firing down the street. Others began to flee. The rest dropped where they stood.

  A rumbling vehicle stopped in front of the house. Amidst the heavy gunfire, she heard her name being called.

  “Alina! Are you in there?” a man called in English. An American.

  Alina rolled off the wall and stood in the doorway. Three camouflaged Hummers with roof-mounted, fifty-caliber machine guns lined her side of the street. Men we
re already out, firing in all directions.

  “Are you Alina?” the man asked.

  She nodded.

  “Get your butt in here!”

  She hurriedly obeyed. The Hummer spun a one-eighty before she had time to hit the deck.

  “What are you doing out here?” It was a sergeant. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

  Alina didn’t answer.

  When they crossed back into the air base, the men seemed to relax a bit. Pulling up to the journalist barracks, the captain of her team met her coming out of the armed vehicle.

  “What happened to you? All personnel were ordered back on the bus!” he yelled.

  She shrugged. “I got lost.”

  He glared at her, the veins in the sides of his neck bulging. His face turned red. He started to say something, then stopped. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get inside with the others and stay there.”

  “No, wait a minute,” came a man’s voice from behind them.

  Alina turned to see the lieutenant from the helicopter crash walking up to them. He saluted the captain. “Excuse me, sir, but I have orders to bring this one to see Colonel Johnson. She is to be embedded with my platoon.”

  The captain looked at her. “Yeah, I know. I set it up. She’ll be lucky if she lives out the week.” He looked her in the eye. “And I do not like my journalists getting killed. It goes on my record too, you know.”

  “Getting killed wouldn’t do me much good, either.”

  He started to say something, then stomped off.

  “Don’t mind him,” the lieutenant said. “He just hates it when the base has to pull one of you correspondents out of the fire. Makes him look bad.”

  They got into his Hummer and drove away.

  “What is your name?” Alina said.

  “Lieutenant Lieberman, but you can just call me Andy.”

  “So I’m to be part of your unit?”

  Lieberman smiled. “I asked for you myself. Colonel Johnson agreed. You start today—I mean, if you’re ready. After a scare like you just had, I’d understand if you wanted to back out.”

  “Scared? I wasn’t scared.”

  He looked at her and shook his head. “No, I bet you weren’t. You’re no ordinary war correspondent. That’s why I volunteered to take you.”

  They passed the headquarters building.

  “Are we really on our way to see Colonel Johnson?” she said.

  He shook his head. “No. That was just a ruse, dropping a name that would get the captain off your back. You’re ready to go. All you have to do is sign a few agreement forms and you’re in. Right now, I’m taking you to meet the men.”

  “I think I met them on the helicopter.”

  He nodded. “Some of them. The rest were on the other choppers.”

  Lieberman stopped outside a gleaming barrack. There were a lot of them lined neatly in a row. The streets were laid out perfectly with living quarters fronting each one. Behind these was the airport tarmac. The jets and choppers continually flew missions, the roar of their engines sometimes making it hard to hear what Lieberman was saying. Alina could not think of a time where there was complete silence since she had been in the country.

  She followed him inside. The first person she met was Steve, introduced as Corporal Steven Miller.

  “Hey!” he said. “Glad you could join us.”

  The rest of the men rallied around her, all of them introducing themselves at the same time. Alina did not get all their names, but then she really didn’t want to. In war, there is no telling when one of those names would appear on somebody’s casualty report.

  When all the introductions and leering were over, Alina pulled Steve aside.

  “Where I can find Blackbrier?”

  “Still interested in joining up, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Yeah, they’re just down the street. Can’t miss their barrack. They painted it all black, of course. Lousy thing to do in the desert sun.”

  “You said they pull escort duty, but do they ever do their own patrols?”

  “Not usually. Why are you so interested in them? Are you doing a piece on them? If you are, good luck. They’re about as tight-lipped a bunch of guys I’ve ever seen. Keep to themselves mostly.”

  Alina walked out the door with Steve in trail. She looked down the street. She saw the black barrack four buildings down.

  “I heard about that little stunt you pulled outside the wire today,” he said, standing beside her to watch down the street. “How many did you get?”

  “What?” She turned from her gaze to look at him, then turned back to the street again. “Oh, twelve I think.”

  “Twelve? Are you serious?”

  When she didn’t respond, Steve said, “That’s a lot, Alina. You should be proud.”

  Her sharp eyes snapped to him. “Proud? Is that how I should feel? Blowing the brains out of innocent men should make me feel good?”

  “Who said anything about being innocent? They were insurgents. They’re the bad guys. They were trying to kidnap you. Do you know what they would have done had they succeeded?”

  “That’s why I shot them.” She turned back toward their barrack. “Let’s go inside. I’ll do this later.”

  “Do what?”

  “Uh, go meet them. I figure I’ll wait till nightfall when things cool off and everyone is relaxed. Then I’ll just go down there and mingle a bit. Get to know them.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Let’s just say it’s why I’m here.”

  He stopped her hand from reaching the doorknob. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, Alina? Maybe I can help. You’re good, but you can’t do this on your own. You need help.”

  “And you’re the person that can help me?”

  He nodded.

  “How?”

  “Well, for starters, I can get us some wheels. A car will come in handy for what I bet you have in mind.”

  “How do you know what I have in mind? I said I was just going to meet them.”

  “Uh-huh. Right, and I’m supposed to believe that. Ever since you got on that chopper yesterday you’ve been looking around, but you’re not like the other journalists. You don’t have a camera or a notepad. There’s no one with you. And when you look, it’s with intent. You’re up to something and I want in on it.”

  “Steve, you don’t know what you are asking.”

  “It’s some undercover spy thing, isn’t it?”

  Alina hesitated, but he was right. She did need help. She nodded.

  Steve clapped his leg. “I knew it! Don’t worry. I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s going to get dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? Alina, look around you. We’re not in Disney World here. Every time I go out that gate I know it could be my last, so don’t tell me about being dangerous.”

  “I mean the men I’m after are dangerous. They’re with Blackbrier. They’ll kill you if they find out we’re on to them. You won’t know who to trust.”

  A soldier walked out the door, interrupting them. They both fell silent as he eyed Alina and then walked between them.

  When he was gone, Steve asked, “On to them for what?”

  She shook her head. “Not here. Meet me tonight for dinner. We’ll talk about it then.”

  ~~~

  A satellite phone rang in the Blackbrier building. A thin man with a harsh complexion picked it up. He was dressed in solid black like the rest of the men. It was a bad combination for that part of the world, but an impressive looking outfit. He wore his hair straight back over a small head. A permanent frown creased his face.

  He pressed the button on the phone. He knew who it was by the number.

  “Yes, Mr. Itsakovic.”

  “Delic. You’ve got a problem heading your way.”

  “And what would that be, Mr. Itsakovic?”

  “A woman is coming to visit you. She may
already be there. She’s out to shut you down.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do not underestimate this one, Naser. She killed five of my men escaping me last week. She’s very resourceful, this one. So be careful.”

  “Careful, Mr. Itsakovic? I think she is the one who should be careful. We’ve dealt with snoopers before. They’ve all met with unfortunate accidents.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m well aware of your past accomplishments, but I assure you this one is different.”

  “How, sir?”

  “She killed Oric.”

  Delic stood in silence. “What about the rest of the men?”

  “Dead. They’re all dead. Like I said, do not underestimate her. She is, shall we say, well motivated.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “It’s the same girl in the attack on the farm during the war. She somehow survived. Now, she’s not only out to shut us down but kill you and Sokolovic for revenge. It’s a two-edged sword, Naser. A two-edged sword. I believe she’s willing to die just to kill you.”

  “I understand, sir. Shall we get rid of her by the usual means?”

  “You mean set up an Iraqi ambush?”

  “Exactly, sir. It’s worked before. It should work again.”

  “Don’t be too hasty with that judgment. You can use a trick only so many times before someone gets wise to you. I suggest another means, something new.”

  Delic nodded. “We’ll think of something, sir. Is there anything else I should know about her? Could you describe her to me?”

  “She’s beautiful, but deadly. She has a long scar on her abdomen, a reminder from where I stuck her ten years ago. She’s been carrying this grudge for a long time. That’s why I think you should be extra careful.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “Yes. She is masquerading as a journalist out of Bosnia. I understand she’s embedded with a unit out of Kirkuk. I don’t know which one, so you’ll have to find her.”

  Delic nodded. “I’ve got it, sir. Like I said, we’ll be ready. When she comes, we’ll kill her.”

  “Just make sure you do. I’ve already lost one shipment because of her. I don’t want to lose another.”