More Than Courage (29 page)

Knowing better than that, Angela DeWitt walked up to her husband, placed one hand on his arm and stood on her tiptoes so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek. When he made no effort to turn toward her or bend his head down so it would be easier for her to reach her objective, Angela realized that he had come home bearing bad news. Lowering herself back onto the floor, she stepped back, sliding her hand down his arm till their fingers touched. Taking his hand in hers, she lifted it to her lips and planted a light kiss on it before looking up into his eyes. "Okay, King Kong, what's up?"

Normally when she called him that in private, DeWitt grinned. At the moment, however, he could not find it in himself to do so. With his free hand, he reached over, grasped the hand that was already holding his, and lifted it to his chest. "Hon, I've been given an opportunity that I just could not say no to."

These are the sort of words that strike terror into the hearts of every military wife, especially when they are uttered in the midst of an international crisis. Sensing the fear that sent a chill down her spine, DeWitt pulled her closer to him. "This morning a slot

in the Ranger battalion that's been training here for the past week came open."

Heaped upon the growing sense of alarm that she could not suppress, Angela now felt a touch of nausea. "Is he dead?"

"No, hon," DeWitt quickly explained. "I don't know the whole story but in a nutshell one of the company commanders was relieved this morning."

Seeing no need to do so, he made no

effort to inform his wife that he had, in a rather roundabout way, Precipitated that action. "Before the after-action review of today's operation the commander of the 3rd of the 75th Rangers asked Colonel Higgins for me by name to take that officer's place."

With a shove that caught Emmett DeWitt off guard, Angela drew away from him. "And of course you said yes."

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Before he responded to her accusatory statement, DeWitt tried to close the distance. She frustrated this attempt by continuing her retreat. Flustered and unsure of what to say next, he squeezed her hands a bit tighter while he tried to put together the right words that would justify to her his decision to accept an offer that was for him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. "Baby, I'm a soldier. You know that. You knew that when we got married.

It's my job."

"And being a husband to me or a father to your baby isn't your job? What about us? Don't we have a say in this? Aren't we part of this equation?"

Without having to think about it DeWitt knew that he could not answer that question in the manner that she wanted yet remain truthful. Fortunately for him he didn't need to. His silence was enough.

Realizing that she could no longer hold back her tears, but determined to deny him the opportunity to comfort her, Angela DeWitt tore her hand free from her husband's grasp, turned, and fled back into their bedroom. When he heard the door slam, DeWitt took a deep breath and shook his head. "Well," he muttered sarcastically. "That went better than I thought."

r

Damascus, Syria

18:30 LOCAL (14:30 ZULU)

Five times a day Sergeant Yousaf Hashmi was able to free himself from the steel-and-conerete cage that imprisoned his physical being. It did not matter that his prayer rug was a frayed, lice infested blanket or that the eastern ,wall of his cell was covered with crude graffiti left behind by former occupants who had lost all hope. Such physical concerns faded from his consciousness as Hashmi humbled himself before his God as his father had taught him to do. Closing his eyes and bowing his head he uttered the simple statement, "All praise be to Allah," with a love and strange joy that only a true believer knows. Since he had been locked away in this place these words and actions had come to be more than a prelude to his ritualistic devotionals. They had become a shield that allowed the Syrian-American to protect himself from the fear his captors endeavored to instill in him and a sword with which to strike back in steadfast defiance. His daily prayers were also a reminder to him that there was more to this world than that which his eyes could see or his arms could embrace. When his time came to leave his mortal body behind, Hashmi found comfort in the fact that he would not die. His soul would go on as did the spirit of all those who placed themselves in the hands of Allah.

When the guards opened the cell door Colonel Mohammed Raseed found Hashmi in the midst of his evening prayers. For a moment the Syrian colonel was taken aback by the sight of this familiar rite. He did not quite know what to do. It had been his mtent to make a grand entrance, strutting into the small room flanked by a pair of Republican Guards who served as his shield 226

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and sword. Yet even a man such as Raseed could not bring himself to interrupt a fellow Muslim while he was expressing his fidelity to Allah. With a wave of his hand the Syrian colonel dismissed his personal assistants and stepped over the threshold. As if sensing his mood, the guards took great care when they closed the door.

Transfixed by the unexpected passion of the moment, Raseed watched and listened in silence. The sight of Hashmi praying evoked a momentary sense of peace within him that his assigned duties denied him. He even found himself admiring his prisoner.

Hashmi's role in the forthcoming drama would be a simple one.

The Syrian-American had become little more than a pawn, one that was about to be used in a gambit he had been ordered to engineer. If the truth be known, and Raseed was a man who never allowed himself to forget the reality of his situation, he feared that his superiors were on the verge of making a major mistake. He had tried to tell them that there was a very real danger their next move could have repercussions that none of them could foresee. But Raseed was a colonel, and in this drama nothing more than a stage manager. He could do little but follow his orders even if he did not believe doing so was wise. After all, the Syrian colonel reminded himself, if things did not go as his superiors wished, he could very well be the next man seeking divine guidance within these walls.

Finished, Yousaf Hashmi paused before turning his head slowly toward Raseed. When he did, the American's expression betrayed no fear, no concern. "I thank you for permitting me to complete my prayers."

Again Raseed found himself once more thrown off guard by a simple gesture of a man whom he was supposed to be intimidating.

Flustered and unable to find a response that was appropriate, the Syrian colonel was reduced to acknowledging Hashmi's gratitude with a shrug. After averting his eyes from those of his prisoner, Raseed grasped his hands behind his back, turned, and began to pace. "Up until now you have been spared the sort 01

treatment that the Americans have been subjected to."

Making no effort to rise up off his knees, Hashmi followed MORE THAN COURAGE

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Raseed with his eyes. "I know. The guards make it a point to pause just outside my door and beat upon my comrades for several minutes each time they are taken to their next round of torture."

This confession brought a smile to Raseed's face, for it meant that not only were his orders being carried out to a T but the tactic was having an effect upon Hashmi. Reaching the rear wall of the cell, Raseed pivoted about and continued his pacing. "I suspect that you have been wondering why they have been interrogated while you have not."

Hashmi's bland expression did not change as he continued to watch Raseed. "I suspect that you are here to explain that to me."

Stung by this response as well as Hashmi's demeanor, Raseed ceased his pacing and turned to confront the American. Yet even now the Syrian colonel found himself off balance as he looked down at Hashmi. Why, the colonel wondered, was he still on his knees? Is he trying to show to me that he is a more dedicated follower of our faith than I? Is he trying to convey the idea that we are both equal in the eyes of Allah? Or is he simply assuming a position of submission in an effort to hide his defiance? In truth Raseed was not interested in the answer, for it did not make any difference. Still, this seemingly harmless act annoyed Raseed. It disturbed him and kept him from concentrating on the task at hand. Having dismissed his henchmen and accepted a one-on-one confrontation, Raseed was at a loss as to how to handle this situation.

Stymied, the colonel turned his back on Hashmi and resumed his pacing. This caused a flicker of a smile to flit across Hashmi's face, an expression that he quickly checked.

"You are to be tried as a traitor," Raseed announced.

"I do not understand how that is possible," Hashmi replied, betraying neither surprise nor concern. "I have been loyal to my with, to my comrades, and to my nation."

Stopping in place, Raseed spun about and faced his prisoner.

That is where you are wrong, and I shall prove it. You are a Syrlan citizen, one who has raised his hand against his own people.

^.¦*ty doing so you have gone against the teachings of the Koran."

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Again Hashmi was able to maintain his stoic demeanor as he responded. "I have betrayed no one. I am a Virginian by birth and a professional soldier pledged to defend my native country, its laws, and its people. Even the prophet Mohammed could find no fault in what I have done."

Hashmi's line of reasoning angered Raseed. It was not what he saying, which Raseed realized was all true. Rather it was the manner in which the American was stating his case. Despite the kneeling position that he continued to maintain, the man showed no sign of fear, no indication that he was concerned about what lay ahead. His answers were delivered as if he were engaged in a theoretical debate. It had been a mistake, Raseed suddenly came to appreciate, to have spared him from the beatings that had been heaped upon his companions.

Then, in an instant, the colonel hit upon the course he would need to steer in the next few days. Triumphantly Raseed marched over and confronted Hashmi. With folded arms and a smile on his face he leaned over and stared into the American's eyes. "You may be prepared to accept your fate and all that it entails, but I do not think that your companions are. Nor do I believe that you have the stomach to watch as the scum you have chosen to call friends are beaten every time you choose to defy me."

For the first time Raseed could see a hint of concern creep into Hashmi's expression. Satisfied that he had finally achieved a degree of moral ascendancy over his prisoner, the colonel stood upright and grasped his hands behind his back while maintaining eye contact with Hashmi. "Tomorrow morning you will be brought before a military tribunal. It will judge you and your actions. During the course of the proceedings you will be expected to demonstrate to our people the respect and reverence that our law and the tribunal demand. Each time you fail to do so, each and every one of your companions will suffer. Do you understand?"

This time Hashmi made no effort to hide the anger and contempt he felt as he glared at the towering figure before him

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Coming to his feet, the American sergeant gathered himself up and looked into Raseed's eyes before he replied. Though his muted response was pretty much what Raseed expected, he knew that he had not even come close to breaking the American's spirit.

Well, he thought as he forced a smile and turned to leave. It did not matter what the American thought. Cameras seldom captured the truth. They reflected an image, an image that could be easily manipulated and twisted.

Amman, Jordan

18:05 LOCAL (15:05 ZULU)

The orders that Lieutenant Colonel Robert Delmont had found waiting for him at Andrews Air Force Base proved to be of no help to him in delineating his duties and responsibilities. When he finally was able to arrange a private meeting with the two sergeants who had managed to make their way across the Jordanian frontier, he was on his own.

As he feared, this meeting did not happen overnight. To appease its neighbors and those members of its citizenry who were decidedly anti-American, the Jordanian government needed to make a show of publicly expressing its outrage over the incident.

It took time to properly organize and stage anti-American rallies for the benefit of TV cameras. Statements condemning the violation of their nation's sovereign boundaries by armed combatants

"needed to be drafted and released by both the king and prime minister. Selected members of the government's inner circle had to be permitted ample opportunity to express their dismay over the affair. All of this had to be carefully orchestrated and Played out before arrangements for the transfer of Staff Sergeant Ramirez and Sergeant Funk from a Jordanian military facility to the American embassy could be quietly negotiated and carried out. When Robert Delmont arrived in Amman these maneuvers

^ere still under way, leaving the special ops staff officer little choice but to patiently wait while the diplomats of the two

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nations observed the dictates of protocol and performed their ritualistic dance.

This sort of enforced idleness is unnerving to a man whose routine consisted of twelve-hour workdays. To be out of the loop just as Fanfare was beginning to take shape only served to accentuate his angst. Were it not for the fact that this unwelcome interlude left him free to lose himself in the latest Tom Clancy novel, Delmont was convinced he would have gone totally mad.

When he was finally afforded an opportunity to sit down with the Kilo Three NCOs in a secure area alone, Delmont discovered that his frustrations were only the beginning. During the course of these meetings Delmont was able to confirm that any information Ramirez and Funk had concerning the status or whereabouts of their teammates who had been taken prisoner was of no use to him. Not even their knowledge of the terrain or the Syrian military was of value to the operation that he had been working on.

And to make matters worse, when all was said and done, Delmont wasn't even able to ascertain with any degree of certainty what had actually taken place that night. All in all he walked away with exactly what he had expected--zilch.