Clandestine-IsaacHooke-FreeFollowup (34 page)

He shifted uncomfortably—there was something protruding from the base of his seat beneath him. Reaching back, he discovered an undetonated grenade. He tossed it out the window in fright, but the bomb was a dud. Allah truly was with him that night.
 

Emad, you keep making mistakes.
 

Smiling maliciously, Suleman set the topmost light switch on the lower left of the steering wheel to the Blackout Drive position, which activated the blackout lights. Then he shifted the vehicle into gear and accelerated over the three dead bodies.

E
than kept checking his left and right rearview mirrors for signs of pursuit, but never spotted any other vehicles. That didn't mean they were safe. Not by a long shot.
 

He regretted abandoning the second Humvee. He should have told William to drive it, but he had allowed his friend to drop a grenade in the vehicle instead. Before the bomb had gone off, frantic shouting had come from the south; Ethan had feared the arrival of reinforcements, so he had ordered William into the first Humvee and driven off. He should have waited to make sure the grenade had detonated, but he had simply wanted to get the hell out of there.
 

I'm getting sloppy.

He was driving with the blackout lights. That, combined with the ambient illumination from the blazes in the nearby villages was more than enough to see by.

In the seat behind him, Aaron used the offline map in Ethan's Android to give directions. Ethan's only worry was that the battery would fail. The power levels were under twenty percent the last time he checked.

"Tell me how you guys got caught," he told Aaron over his shoulder.

"Someone recognized me in the forward camp."

"Someone?"

Aaron sighed. "Before you arrived in Turkey, Sam had me working with another group of DIA contractors. Apparently these guys had some of the highest success rates at turning foreign fighters."
 

Ethan pressed his lips together. "I think I know where this is going."

"Take a left up ahead," Aaron said. "And yeah, these guys were twisted." He hesitated. "Their methods were unorthodox, to say the least. We intercepted this one jihadi named Habib in Gaziantep who was on his way to Syria from Saudi Arabia. The contractors brutally raped him. I walked out on the thing, but I discovered later that they took pictures and threatened to show them to his family if he didn't become their asset. You know what the punishment for homosexuality in Saudi Arabia is, right?"
 

Ethan shook his head. "Some of the contractors the DIA hires..."

"Yeah, well, I told Sam to reassign me shortly after that. Maybe I'm too squeamish. The guy was on his way to join the Islamic State, after all, a group of radicals who cut people's heads off on YouTube and rape entire villages, so maybe I shouldn't have felt so strung up about it. But there's a certain standard of human decency I follow, even against my enemy. A code. Doing stuff like that DIA team did, well, it makes me feel... vile, you know?"

"Worse shit was done in Guantanamo," William piped in.

"Yeah well, I always like to tell myself that we're better than the terrorists," Aaron continued. "That we won't descend to their base level, but you know what, we're not better. We're not." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, this agent the DIA team supposedly recruited? Well he showed up in the camp back there."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Apparently Habib had worked his way up the Islamic State ranks since the last time we met. Had me arrested. William got wind of it and tried to vouch for me, but the judge arrested him after Habib went wacko and started shooting me."

"Wait, what?" Ethan said. "The judge arrested William? Why? He should have arrested this Habib."

"Yeah, except that William snatched a pistol from one of the nearby muj and popped Habib in the head."

"Oh."

William jumped in. "What was I supposed to do, stand by and watch the guy kill him?"

"No," Ethan said. "You did the right thing."

William laughed softly. "I probably should have capped him in the knee instead, but the bastard royally pissed me off. Thought he could mess with one of my friends and get away with it, did he? And truthfully, I wanted to shut him up. I figured without his testimony, Aaron would be safe. I was wrong. After I was arrested, the judge's lackeys found the USB stick and TruPulse range finder on me and they got all excited because Aaron had them, too. When they discovered the retractable RF antennas hidden within the USBs, we were basically screwed."

"Didn't help matters when I gave up the PIN to my Android under duress," Aaron added. "And they found certain un-Islamic recordings on the phone."

"Videos of you providing commentary in English during airstrikes?" Ethan asked.

"Yup."

"I warned you about doing that."

"I know you did."

"You're supposed to be one of the best operatives in the field," Ethan scolded his friend.

"The best. Yeah. Doesn't mean I'm not human. I've paid for my mistakes, Ethan."

We've
all
paid for your mistakes,
he wanted to say, but figured his friend felt guilty enough as it was. The three of them were alive and free, at least for the moment, and that was all that mattered.
 

The Humvee reached the final village before the wide tract to Kobane. He steered through the cement buildings, heading toward the heavy artillery at the outskirts. Under the blackout lights he spotted what he thought were a couple of militants on the guns, but none of them made any move to intercept the Humvee.

His two-way radio crackled to life. "Incoming vehicle, identify yourself."

The radio chatter from the forward camp wouldn't have reached these men, of course. Without radio towers and repeaters along the way, the distance was just too far.

"I'm a courier," Ethan said into his radio. "I have a message for the battle emir."

The militants waved him through.

Ethan drove past the heavy artillery into the empty expanse of land beyond. The southeast edge of Kobane lay about a kilometer ahead.

The sky cleared as the vehicle broke free of the tire smoke that choked the villages; the quarter moon cast its dim light down upon them. He hoped none of the passing jets or drones would mark his thermal signature for bombing.
 

He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he reached the city's perimeter. At the entrance checkpoint he slowed to a halt, then slid the window locking bar from its hole and lowered the Humvee's ballistic glass.
 

One of the fighters on duty shone a flashlight inside. Ethan was about to repeat his courier claim when a garbled voice came over the man's two-way radio. The fighter raised a hand in a "wait a moment" gesture.

"Say again?" the man spoke into the two-way.
 

The voice returned, but there was far too much static for it to be intelligible. Likely the speaker originated from the forward village, or a vehicle on the way to Kobane from there. Ethan did catch one ominous word: "Prisoners."

The soldier shrugged, then returned his attention to the Humvee.

"I am a courier—" Ethan began, but the fighter was already waving him through.
 

Ethan stepped on the accelerator.

Almost there.

* * *

Suleman crossed both checkpoints with relative ease. He simply told the lazy watchmen that he was in pursuit of escaped kaffir spies. At the second checkpoint, the soldier on duty hesitated when he spotted the bloody nose, but when the man looked into his eyes and saw the fires that burned there, he seemed to understand that Suleman was a true lion of Islam, fervently dedicated to the cause.

Suleman's nose still throbbed slightly, and he experienced bouts of dizziness. Those were the least of his problems, however: traveling by vehicle through Kobane proper proved extremely difficult. The streets were a mess, and he had been forced to backtrack several times when his way was blocked by a collapsed building or blast crater. Worse, Emad's signal no longer showed up on the Stingray.
 

Despite these difficulties, he had no doubt he would find Emad eventually. None whatsoever. Allah would guide him.

He switched over the two-way radio to the common frequency and spoke. "All units, be on the lookout for a roaming Humvee. Report its position, but do not attack." The last was to ensure that any militants who spotted Suleman's Humvee wouldn't launch a rocket at
him
.
 

"I've spotted the Humvee," a scratchy voice returned a moment later. It cut in and out with static. "It just turned off Forty-Eight Street and is heading south toward the outskirts of Kobane."

Suleman grinned wickedly. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was Emad. The kaffir thought Suleman would fall for that, did he?
Heading south toward the outskirts of Kobane
. Bah. It was obvious he planned on crossing over to the Kurds. Suleman swore the kaffir would die before he reached the yellow-faces. And after he killed Emad, he planned to return home to Britain, where he would be hailed a hero for his dedicated undercover work above and beyond the call of duty. At the offices of MI6, he would detonate a suicide vest as he shook the Chief's hand. His courageous act of martyrdom would serve as a beacon of hope for all Muslims everywhere, and they would rise up against the infidel oppressors worldwide.
 

Suleman continued making his way toward the front line, backtracking when the streets proved impassable. He began to despair of finding Emad in time. Had Allah abandoned him so soon?
 

"Emir," Fida'a said.

Suleman glanced at his loyal friend. Fida'a nodded at the open laptop.

Emad's signal had returned.

* * *

"Which way, Aaron?" Ethan said.

Seven meters ahead, the way forward was blocked by a severely damaged apartment
building. The entire right side had been blown away, spilling huge piles of concrete and furniture onto the roadway.
 

They had faced several such blockages during the flight—it was a rabbit's warren out there. Ethan had considered simply abandoning the Humvee, but with Aaron's injuries it was best to stay with the vehicle as long as possible.
 

"You do realize your map is slightly outdated, right?" Aaron said from behind. "It's missing some key information, namely, which goddamn buildings have collapsed!"
 

"Do what you can," Ethan said curtly.
 

His thoughts drifted to the radio chatter he had answered earlier. That man who had asked the mujahadeen to report any Humvees... Ethan couldn't be sure because of the static, but he thought the voice belonged to Suleman. He'd left the man duct-taped in the forward camp. Had he broken free already? Whatever the case, someone was pursuing them, and that someone apparently wanted Ethan for himself.

A few other radio calls had come in, questioning his intent, but he always answered in pristine Arabic, identifying himself as a courier. None of the brothers he talked to ever repeated his location over the radio for the pursuers, probably because they couldn't tell he drove a Humvee in the night.

Ethan glanced in the left and right rearview mirrors. The road still seemed clear behind them. So far. "Come on, Aaron. Pick a direction. Or I'll do it for you."
 

His fellow operative didn't answer.

"Aaron!"

"Go right," Aaron said.

"Finally." Ethan took his foot off the brake and started the turn. "See if you can contact Black Mamba yet. I want—"
 

He was cut off when something struck the front right side of the vehicle.

A
t first Ethan thought a mortar shell had impacted, but when the vehicle veered sharply to the left of its own accord, he saw another Humvee streak past, loudly scraping the outer hull. The other vehicle tore away, halting several meters to the left.
 

Not trusting the ballistic glass, Ethan kept low. "You guys okay?"

"Fine," Aaron said from the backseat.

"Will?"

"I'm good," William answered. His friend was similarly crouched. "It hit the engine, not me."

The Humvee had stalled. The wait-to-start lamp was inactive, and so was the transmission indicator lamp. Staying as low as he could in his seat, Ethan tried the rotary switch regardless. The engine refused to cooperate. It was about time they left the vehicle anyway.
 

He peered at the second Humvee through the windshield. Lit by the quarter moon, it lay almost parallel to their own vehicle, with its tailgate facing them. The subtle, shifting darkness of smoke billowed from its engine.
 

Ethan opened the driver side door and stepped out, using the metal doorframe for cover. William did the same on the passenger side.

Gunfire erupted from the opposing vehicle. He instinctively ducked, recognizing the triple report of an M16. It was intermixed with the semi-automatic bursts of an AK-47. Muzzle flashes filled the night.
 

The other Humvee was far too close for him to practically use Beast. And the Dragunov wouldn't suffice either, not for what he intended. He needed something capable of laying down several rounds of covering fire.
 

"Aaron," he shouted over his shoulder. "AK. Two RGDs."

From the backseat Aaron handed over his AK and the requested fragmentation grenades.

"William," Ethan said. "Get Aaron to those buildings." He nodded toward the intersection behind them. "Let me know when you're ready to make the dash."

Ethan returned fire sporadically with the AK. Meanwhile William made his way around the rear of the vehicle to the left side passenger door and unloaded Aaron.

"Ready!" William's voice came a few seconds later.

Ethan moved to the backside of the vehicle—an enemy grenade detonated in the spot he had just vacated. He squeezed past William and Aaron, who had taken up a position near the rightmost brake light, and then he crouched behind the open passenger side door.