Clancy, Tom – Op Center 04 – Acts Of War

As she was speaking, Herbert’s phone beeped. He scooped it up. After a moment, he poked a finger in his other ear. “There’s what?” he demanded. His eyes shifted absently from the floor to Martha to the ceiling. “What else? Did they find anything else there?” His eyes moved around again. “Nothing at all? Okay, Ahmet. Tessekur. Thanks very much.” He hung up. “Shit.”

“What?” Martha asked.

“There’s a narrow zone between two barbed wire fences at the Turkish-Syrian border,” Herbert said. “The Turkish border patrol heard a shot there and raced over. That was where the ROC crossed into Syria. The patrol found fresh blood beside six deep tire fans.”

“Tire fans?”

“A tire rut with dirt blown out behind it like a paper fan,” Herbert said. “It’s caused by a fast, sudden start.”

“I see,” Martha said. “Six tires. So it was the ROC.”

Herbert nodded.

“And it was running from something.”

“They weren’t being chased yet,” Herbert said. “The Turks say the ROC got past an electrified fence by setting up a diversionary arc. They were already through before the Turks heard a gunshot and realized that they were there. The ROC took off long before the border patrol arrived. Something else caused the ROC to bolt.”

“Bob, I’m totally confused,” Martha said impatiently. “First, who do they think was shot and why?”

“They don’t know,” Herbert said. He shut his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve got to think. Why would the ROC take off? Because they were afraid someone heard the gunshot? That’s possible. That isn’t what’s important. The question is, who was shot? If one of the hostages had been killed, the Syrians probably would have dumped the body behind.”

“And if they were wounded?” Martha asked.

“Unlikely,” Herbert said.

“How can you be sure?”

“The Turks say the shot echoed,” Herbert said. “The ROC is soundproofed. It would have swallowed most of the blast. In order to be wounded, a hostage probably would have been trying to run away in the dark. The gun would have fired, the hostage would have fallen, and the ROC would have driven to where he or she was. It didn’t. It was right by the fence. No,” Herbert said. “I know Mike Rodgers. My guess is that they were about to cross into Syria, so he decided to try and stop them.”

“And failed,” she stated flatly.

Herbert fired her a look. “Don’t say it like he screwed up. The fact that he or someone else may have made the effort at all is a helluva thing. A helluva big thing.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” she said indignantly.

“Yeah, well, it sounded like that.”

“Calm down, Bob,” Martha said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure,” he said. “The sideline generals are always sorry. I lost my wife and my legs to a military miscalculation. It’s bad, but it’s like everything else. Real easy to quarterback when you’re watching the game tapes, not so easy when you’re on the field.”

“I never said any of this was easy,” Martha said. She drummed her long, rounded nails on the desk. “Want to see if we can get back to fighting the enemy?”

“Yeah, okay.” Herbert sucked down a breath. “I’ve gotta think this whole thing through.”

“Let’s start with some hypotheses,” Martha said. “Suppose Mike hurt or killed one of his captors. There will be repercussions.”

“Correct,” Herbert said. “The question is, against who?”

“Would it be against one of the hostages?”

“Not necessarily,” Herbert said. “There are three options. First of all, they won’t kill Mike. Even if they don’t know his military rank, they’ve got to know he’s the leader. He’s a valuable hostage and they’ll want to hold onto him. Though they may torture him as an example to the others not to try to escape. That rarely works, though. You watch someone beat a fellow prisoner, it scares you into wanting to get away.” Herbert laid his neck back on the barbershop-style headrest. “That leaves two other possibilities. If a terrorist was killed in the exchange, they may execute one of the hostages. They’d select the person by lot, the short straw drawing the bullet in the back of the head. Mike would be forbidden from participating, though he’d be forced to watch the murder.”

“Jesus,” Martha said.

“Yeah, that’s a rough one,” Herbert said. “But it also breeds a sense of resistance among hostages. Terrorists tend to use it only when they want to send a body back to someone, to show that they mean business. So far, no one but us has been notified that anyone’s taken our team hostage.”

“Then scenario number two is unlikely,” Martha said hopefully.

Herbert nodded. “But the terrorists can’t let an escape attempt go unpunished. So what do they do? They go to option three, which is an old favorite of Middle Eastern terrorists. They hit a target of equal importance to the hit they took. In other words, if a lieutenant was killed, they take out a lieutenant somewhere else. If a nonmilitary leader was killed, they go after a political figure.”

Martha stopped drumming. “If the Kurds are behind this whole operation, they don’t have many quick-strike options.”

“Correct again,” said Herbert. “We don’t think they’ve infiltrated any of our bases overseas, and even if they had, they wouldn’t show their hand. for something like this. They’d probably hit an embassy.”

“They’ve got the greatest numbers of followers in Turkey, Syria, Germany, and Switzerland,” Martha said. She looked sharply at Herbert. “Would they know about Paul’s trip?”

“Damascus has been informed,” Herbert said, “but it won’t be announced publicly until he lands in London.” Herbert began wheeling toward the door. “If Damascus knows, the Kurds may also know. I’m going to inform Paul and also warn our embassies in Europe and the Middle East.”

“I’ll handle the Middle Eastern embassies,” Martha said. “And Bob? I’m sorry about before. I really didn’t mean any disrespect to Mike.”

“I know,” Herbert said. “But that isn’t the same as showing him respect.”

He left, leaving Martha wondering why she’d bothered.

Because they put you in charge here, that’s why, she told herself. Diplomacy wasn’t supposed to be pleasant, just effective.

Calling her assistant Aurora, Martha put everything but the safety of American diplomats from her mind as she had the young woman begin placing overseas calls, beginning with Ankara and Istanbul.

THIRTY

Tuesday, 2:32 a.m.,

Membij, Syria

Ibrahim did not stop the van until he was ten miles within Syria. He wasn’t sure whether the Turkish border patrol had followed him. He didn’t hear them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t back there following the van’s tracks. Even if the enemy were in pursuit, however, the Turks wouldn’t dare come as far as Membij. It was the first sizable town on this side of the border, and even at this hour the unauthorized intrusion of foreigners would raise the citizens to resistance.

As it was, the arrival of the long, white van woke more than a few of the townspeople. They came to their windows and doors and gawked as the magnificent vehicle passed. Ibrahim didn’t stop, but drove on to the south, past the town, wanting to attract as little attention as possible. His captives and the van weren’t a Syrian trophy but a Kurdish prize. He intended to keep it that way.

Only when Ibrahim stopped, only when he looked down at Mahmoud, who was squatting protectively over the body of Hasan, did Ibrahim permit himself to cry for his fallen comrade. Mahmoud had already spoken a prayer, and now Ibrahim said his part from the Koran.

Kneeling and bowing his head low, Ibrahim offered softly, ” ‘He sends forth guardians who watch over you and carry away your souls without fail when death overtakes you. Then are all men restored to God, their true Lord.’ ”

And then Ibrahim’s tear-filled eyes turned back to the man who had done this monstrous deed. The American was lying on his back on the floor of the van where Mahmoud had left him. His face was swollen where he had been beaten, but there was no sadness in his eyes. The accursed eyes were looking up, indignant and unmoved.

“Those eyes will not be defiant for very long,” Ibrahim vowed. He reached for his knife. “I will cut them out, followed by his heart.”

Mahmoud clasped a hand on his wrist. “Don’t! Allah is watching us, judging us. Vengeance is not the best way now.”

Ibrahim wrested his arm free. ” ‘Let evil be rewarded with like evil,’ Mahmoud. The Koran knows best. The man must be punished.”

“This man will submit to God’s judgment soon enough,” Mahmoud said. “We have other uses for him.

“What uses? We have hostages enough.”

“There is much more to this van than we know. We need him to tell us of it.”

Ibrahim spit on the floor. “He would sooner die. And I would sooner kill him, my brother.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *