Rescue, Page 3

Tall was the last one to board the helicopter. Ellie, Ben, and Kevin sat in the rear seat and Mountain sprawled over the first one, leaving barely enough space for Tall to squeeze in beside him.

  Mountain spoke loud enough for only Tall to hear. “I see you brought that boy toy along.”

  “We may need an interpreter.”

  Mountain snorted. “Sure. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Tall knew how Mountain felt. The others probably felt the same. Your life is often in the hands of the man beside you. You need to know he’ll do what has to be done.

  “That’s the second time someone said that to me today, Mount. I hope so, too.”

  An hour later, the chopper sat down in an open field. An SUV was waiting and took them to the Command Center set up at an old farm a mile from the safe house. At the end of a long curving driveway, military vehicles of all kinds filled a cleared space in front of the two-story structure. The large and sadly neglected house looked like it hadn’t been used for years and was surrounded by hundreds of tired fig trees. Several dozen Airmen in combat gear stood around the vehicles in groups of three and four. An Air Force officer came out of the house to greet them as soon as the SUV stopped.

  “Mr. Chambers?” he said. “I’m Major Wainwright.”

  Tall stepped forward and shook his hand. “Any changes in the situation?”

  “None. We’ve just been waiting for you.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a communications office set up in the front room if you need it.”

  “Thanks. My team needs to get some rest and some food if you have any.”

  “There are bedrooms on the second floor. The furnishings are not five star, but usable. Took us all day yesterday to get the power turned on, but the air conditioning is a dead soldier. We brought in some food, so help yourselves in the kitchen. It’s not gourmet, but it’s the best we could do.”

  The Major turned and walked toward the house. Tall fell in step behind him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  The air in the house was only slightly less stifling than outside and everything had a moldy smell. Probably because the house had been closed up and not used for a long time. A dozen or so Air Force personnel in full combat gear filled the front room. Wood crates with planks across them served as two desks, each one holding computers and telephones. Two men sat at one desk pounding on computers. A man and woman lay stretched out on the floor trying to sleep. Another man and woman sat in folding chairs with their cell phones out. Texting or playing games. Anything to pass the time.

  After they’d managed to find something to eat in the kitchen, Tall and his crew went out behind the farm house with the M24 sniper rifles. Kevin went over the weapon in detail, including adjustments for windage and elevation. With the short distance they had to shoot, windage and elevation would not be major factors, but Kevin seemed to take pride in showing how much he knew about the gun. After that, each of them fired rounds into fig trees until they felt comfortable with it.

  As they walked back to the farm house, Tall said, “We’ll be approximately fifty yards away when we take our shots. With the M24, it’ll be an easy shot. Just make your first one count. It could be the only one we’ll get. We’ll all fire at the same time so they won’t have time to react and shoot the hostages.”

  Mountain fell in step beside Tall. “Okay, the boy knows the weapon. The question is, will he use it if the time comes?”

  “Don’t worry,” Tall said. “He’ll be fine.” He hoped he was right.

  As Tall entered the farm house, his phone rang. When he answered, Edwin, his Intel Center Manager said, “Hey, Tall, I did what you asked and dug up everything I could find on the guards assigned to the safe house.”

  “Great, Edwin. Find anything?”

  “Zip, zilch and nada on those guys. They’re all squeaky-clean, apple-pie-eating, Chevrolet-driving, all-American boys. Not one of them has ever spent time in the Middle East until now, and there are no connections or links anywhere to the Islamic world or anything Muslim.”

  “Good work, Edwin. Thanks for trying.”

  “There’s more, Tall. Don’t know if it means anything, but while I was at it, I took a look at the other hostage, Penelope Foster. Do you have access to a computer?”

  “I saw a couple of them here.”

  “Okay. I know you don’t fool with them much. Is there anyone there with IT experience?”

  “I’ll have to check. Hold on a minute.”

  Tall entered the makeshift office and spotted a man working on a computer at one of the desks.”

  “Edwin,” Tall said. “There is someone here, but I don’t know how much he knows about your world.”

  “Can you put him on the phone?”

  “Sure.” Tall interrupted the sergeant at the desk and asked if he’d mind speaking to someone in Washington. When he agreed, Tall handed over his cell phone and stood off to the side for several minutes while the two men talked. Finally, the man at the desk put the phone down and began to punch on his keyboard. After a minute or two, he stopped typing, stood up, and looked at Tall.

  “You’re all set, sir.”

  Tall sat down and looked at the screen. There was Edwin looking back at him.

  Edwin smiled. “Welcome to my world. We’re on Skype, a technological marvel of the Twenty-First Century.”

  Tall grinned. “Believe it or not, I’ve heard of it.”

  “Good. One of these days you’ll have to come in and let me teach you the magic of my world.”

  “You don’t want to do that, Edwin. Then I wouldn’t need you.”

  Edwin laughed. “Good point. I put us on Skype so I could show you a few things. Like I said, they may not mean anything, but I thought I’d pass them along anyway.”

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  “For openers, Penelope grew up in the Middle East.”

  “I knew that. Her father was Air Force.”

  “Right. She was also educated there. The first thing I want to show you is her high school class picture. Hold on a second.”

  Edwin raised his hands to his keyboard. The screen went dark, then lightened again. This time, Tall saw a picture of eighty or ninety teenagers, standing and smiling in neat rows.

  “In the first row,” Edwin said, “second girl from the right. That’s Penelope Foster.”

  “Cute kid. So?”

  “So look at the third row, fourth guy from the left. Look familiar?”

  Tall squinted and leaned closer to the screen. “Maybe, but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Trust me on this, Tall. That’s your friend Hasam Rashid. There’s a list of names with the picture identifying each student.”

  “Interesting,” Tall said, “but it could be a coincidence. Doesn’t mean they knew each other.”

  “I agree. I didn’t know everyone in my high school class. But, moving on, here’s a roster of students from her college days in Sulaimani, Iraq. They were there at the same time for three years.”

  Tall waited for the new screen to appear, looked for their names, and found both.

  “Also interesting,” he said, “but could be another coincidence.”

  “I agree again, and I only have two more pictures to show you. These are only a year old. The first one is Rashid leading an Islamic street rally in Salalah, Oman. He’s the guy in the front with his fist in the air.”

  “That’s him all right. How did you come up with this picture?”

  “Newspaper archives. That makes it public domain. Facial recognition software brought it up. Check out the tee shirt he’s wearing.”

  “Okay, a black tee with what looks like Arabic wording on the front.”

  “Right. Roughly translated, it says Oman is for Lovers.”

  “Very romantic. What’s the point?”

  “This is the last one. Taken at about the same time. The buildings in the background are the same ones in the previous picture.”

  Tall examined the picture of three thirty-som
ething women standing on a crowded sidewalk, smiling for the camera. One looked Asian, another could have been Italian or Greek, and the woman in the center was definitely Penelope Foster.

  “Don’t tell me you found this picture in newspaper archives.”

  “Nope. Facebook. Penelope likes to post pictures there for family and friends.”

  “You never fail to amaze me, Edwin. Are you saying she was there for Rashid’s Islamic rally?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but it’s possible. Now check out the tee shirt she’s wearing. Could be another coincidence. What do you think?”

  Tall leaned closer to the screen and squinted again. “Looks like the same shirt, but they probably sell a ton of them. Salalah is a popular beach resort spot for people in the Middle East. I’ve been there myself for a little fun in the sun.”

  “That’s true. I just thought you’d be interested in what I came up with. Wouldn’t want you to think all I do is sit here and watch porn flicks while you’re away.”

  “What the hell. You do it when I’m there.”

  Edwin chuckled. “Busted. Call me tomorrow when it’s over, okay?”

  “Will do and thanks for the info. I’ll be back there in a few days.”

  “In one piece, I hope. Bye, Tall.”

  CHAPTER FOUR