As he shrewdly watched over the auction, Ayoud said, “These are the brides our fighters have finished with. They will be slaves to Allah.”
The women were treated roughly, forced to their knees. A man ripped one’s garment open to show her white body, her breasts and nakedness below. She was marked, red streaks across her stomach, obviously from someone’s whip. It wasn’t lost on him that Islamic law required women to remained covered at all times in public, yet they were shaming these women, keeping their own faces covered. He was sickened by the brutality. Men were calling out, raising their hands. It was obvious that a woman had been sold, as she was handed, or rather dragged, to another man. Her scarf fell off exposing thick blond hair, a mass of natural curls. There was screaming and crying, women struggling. They knew their fate, and Joe now understood what Tucker had said about it being a mercy to put a bullet in their heads. And he realized in horror Dunlop had just been sold.
The smug bastard beside him was smiling. He winked at Joe, jutting out his chin. “A bargain he got, ten of your American dollars. She was tasty, your Dunlop, but not the innocent she pretended to be.”
Joe saw his hands around Ayoud’s throat before he realized what he was doing. He heard his own shouts before a gun was in his face and an arm around his throat had him dropping to his knees. He’d definitely shaken Ayoud, and the man was angered—he could see it in his face as he shouted something and gestured angrily. Then a man was dragged out, wearing a US military uniform, his head covered with a bag, hands tied behind his back. He struggled and was kicked over and over, forced to his knees, the bag ripped from his head.
Tucker’s face was a mess. He was bleeding, his face swollen and bruised. Joe suspected broken bones, by the way he was leaning. A foot was jammed into his back.
“Your friend. You want to share his fate?” Ayoud yelled in his face.
Joe felt as if he was in the presence of pure evil. It was beyond reasoning, beyond anything. Maybe Tucker was the lucky one. There wasn’t a thing he could do as he was forced to watch one of the most brutal, horrific things he had ever seen: the beheading of the special forces comrade he didn’t know the first thing about. Did he have a wife, a family? All Joe knew was that he had been called Tucker.
He fainted.
Chapter 11
“Here, here, over here! They’ve just uploaded another video. It’s already gone out,” one of the computer programmers yelled out from the confines of the tent in the compound. “Do I shut it down?”
“What is it?” the commander called, and Eric looked over the corpsman’s shoulder. The programmer wore thick glasses and had dark hair. His fingers were racing over the keyboard. He was sweating.
Eric could see the video. “Is there audio?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, there is.” The corpsman pressed a button on his computer, and sound filled the tent. The video showed some camp and what appeared to be hundreds of armed men. A line of women was dragged in, tied together, completely covered. “An auction,” the corpsman said. “This is their camp. The video’s from the same group Dunlop was communicating with. These guys are good, though. They’re always one step ahead. They pop up somewhere else with another satellite, a new IP. They’re hard to track, but not impossible.”
“You sound mighty sure of yourself. What are we watching, here?” Eric asked.
“Oh, shit, sir, do you see this?” The camera zoomed in to a balcony, and there was Joe, a bandage wrapped around his head.
“I do. It looks like we found our camp,” Eric replied. The master chief was snapping his fingers at someone, and the corpsman turned to him.
“Sir, do you want me to shut this down? It’s already gone out on the net, and it won’t take long to go viral.”
“No, don’t,” Cassidy yelled before the commander could give the order. He leaned closer over the corpsman’s shoulder. “Can you get a read on exactly where this is?”
“They’re blocking me, sir.” The corpsman was running his fingers over the keys. “But hell, yeah. I’m a lot better than they are.”
What a cocky attitude this kid had! Maybe it was a good thing he was on their side.
“Look at Joe,” Eric said, pointing to the screen. “He doesn’t look too good. Anyone know who that is he’s standing with?”
“Do we have eyes on this?” the commander called out. “I want face recognition done on that guy standing with the lieutenant commander.”
“On it, sir,” someone called out from across the room.
Eric couldn’t believe what he was watching. Joe was barely standing, but the man he was with had light brown hair, the same height and build. He appeared to be in charge. He wasn’t that old, either. Eric crossed his arm across his middle, rested his elbow over his arm, and ran his thumb over his teeth. “What the hell are we watching, here?” he asked.
On the screen, a woman’s garment was ripped open. She was naked underneath, a faceless blonde. There was crying and shouting and bidding, and the video zoomed in on the women, who were kicked and pushed to their knees. Then the blonde was dragged away.
“Can anyone translate what they’re saying?” Cassidy called out.
A short, dark-haired man with a narrow face stepped forward. “Sir, that’s Armenian. He’s saying these are all brides to the fighters, and they’ve finished with them. They’re being sold now as slaves. The first one is American—spoiled, used, a trickster.”
“Who is it?” Eric asked. He didn’t have a clue, because they couldn’t see a face. There was nothing. She was dragged away, screaming and crying, and the video went to the balcony. Joe was fighting with the man, and then two soldiers had him on his knees, a gun to his head. The man was yelling at him. Joe was angry about something. The video zoomed in on a man struggling, being dragged out, fighting and making it as hard as he could on his captors.
“That’s Tucker. I don’t need to see his face to know it’s—oh, mother of God, please, no!” the chief called out, and everyone in the room fell silent.
“We need to shut this down before everyone in America sees this,” Eric said. He didn’t need anyone to explain what was about to happen, because it was over before he could fully understand it. One of the men they were looking for had just been beheaded.
“Shut it down now!” The commander gave the order, and the corpsman took the video down, but not before millions across the world could witness the atrocity. Eric knew this power was beyond anything the personnel around him had encountered before.
The computer screen shattered as the master chief hurled something across the room.
Chapter 12
She was gorgeous, and she was his. He couldn’t wait to taste her, to have her under him. She appeared so shy at first as he closed the door to their hotel room. It was nothing fancy—he couldn’t afford fancy. Even the cheap bottle of wine chilling by the bedside had been a splurge for him.
“I can’t wait to get you out of that dress.” He started toward his bride as she stood there in a long white gown with lace sleeves, the veil pinned in her short, dark hair.
“There’s a lot of buttons to undo. You may want to get started,” she said, giggling, turning around so he could see the tiny pearl buttons that started at her waist and continued up to the back of her neck.
He moved the veil aside, feeling the texture on his fingers. He could smell her flowery scent, her perfume, and he leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. He started working the tiny buttons one by one. “How many do you have on here, a hundred? Who makes these things, anyway?” He couldn’t believe the work he had to go through to get her out of this dress. “Someone with intent to torment a new husband, I bet.”
“Hmm, just unbutton already, would you?” she said and laughed again.
After he undid the last button, the gown pooled at her feet, and he turned her around, sucking in his breath as he took in her garters, lace underwear, and matching bra. They were sheer and completely indecent—perfect. “Wow, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said, and then she stepped back again, and the room dimmed, and Mary-Margaret was frowning.
“Joe, where are you?” she called out as she stepped back again.
“I’m here, baby, right here.”
He was on his back, looking up as he slowly awoke. His awareness hit first—the throbbing in his head, it just wouldn’t stop. Where was his wife? He shut his eyes again and breathed in something, some scent that had him confused. He opened his eyes.
He heard footsteps on concrete, across the room and coming closer. It was dim, and lights flickered in the background. Then Ayoud was beside the bed, looking down at him. His hands were clasped behind his back, and then someone else was there, another man, wearing the same dark pants, though he had a scarf around his head. He didn’t look Joe’s way.
Ayoud nodded to whatever the man said, at the same time watching Joe. He was a dangerous man who could hide everything he was thinking behind a steel wall.
Joe could read people well, but not this man.
“Ah, good. Lieutenant Commander, you’re awake.”
It all came back to Joe: Tucker was dead, and the same fate most likely faced him. That was the most terrifying thing of all, waiting and not knowing. The thought of never seeing his children, his wife again was all but eating him up. He had so much to say to them, so much to say to Mary-Margaret about what a fool he’d been.
Then he felt guilty. He was lying here alive, and Dunlop was being sold like a piece of meat, and for what? He couldn’t help but look over to the wall where Grieger had been chained like an animal. The spot was just an empty hook on the wall. Had she been sold, too?
“She’s of no importance,” Ayoud said, his gaze flitting to where Grieger had been.
Joe had to struggle past his hatred for this man. Grieger hadn’t had a chance here. He knew the troops would be looking for them, but what would be left of them when they arrived…if they arrived?
“If you’re thinking of attacking me, think again,” Ayoud said. “You have a choice to make, Mr. Lieutenant Commander Joe Reed. Join us if you wish to live.”
Joe couldn’t get over the perfect English Ayoud spoke. He sneered. He would die before joining them. The monster before him shrugged with indifference and gestured to someone, and a laptop was brought before him and flipped open. Joe felt the first stirring of his blood turning cold.
“Recognize her?” Ayoud said.
He blinked, feeling the strain in his arms when he tightened his muscles. His hands were tied to the bed, and he couldn’t quite understand what he was looking at. It was so familiar…a Facebook page, his daughter’s. He yelled and yanked his wrists, but he couldn’t move.
Ayoud started to laugh and then pressed a button on the computer. “As you can see, I friended her and she responded. She was so easy, especially when I told her I’m stationed where you are, very close by. So close that we’re neighbors. Should I read more to you?” The smug bastard sounded so confident.
No wonder Ayoud had tied Joe down. The man knew he was going to lose it. Joe had never before felt such an ache in his chest. Every breath he took was an effort as he stared helplessly at his daughter’s Facebook page. She had accepted this monster’s invite. She’d been communicating with him, messaging back and forth. Was his daughter so naive that she was buying all this crap? What the hell had she been doing, accepting a friend request from a total stranger? Hadn’t Mary-Margaret talked to them about the danger of predators lurking on the web? No, no—he couldn’t put this on his wife. He’d dropped the ball, too. This was his responsibility…but she was at home with them.
Mary-Margaret, what the hell are you doing?
He had to get out of here, find a way to get back to his family, to protect his child.
“See, here, how I sympathize with her? Her father’s away, not there for her when she needs him, and she misses him so. And you, so noble and honorable. I let her know I’ve met you and that you’re here fighting to clean up the lies of the government before this one, to fix a war that wasn’t justified. Do you see her reply?”
He moved the screen closer so Joe could read every word. “Dear Avi
…
” It was a name he knew, a name he’d heard. God, his daughter was pouring her heart out to this monster thinking he was someone she could trust. Had the same man been communicating with Dunlop? He had to know.
“You’re the same Avi who was talking to Dunlop?” he asked, not missing the confused look on Ayoud’s face. The first slip he’d made.
“Dunlop?” he said the name as if it meant nothing to him.
“Lance Corporal Dunlop, who you took from camp along with Grieger, US soldiers you kidnapped. You contacted her through Facebook.”
“Ah, yes, not me. Avi is a name used by us, and we’ve contacted millions. Social media is such a wonderful invention. It’s remarkable how the Western world stays afloat with so many naive young women and children. That’s why you’re failing. You have no idea how necessary rules are—discipline, order.” He smiled. “She was eager, wanted a husband. She would have married a JILA, but she wasn’t a virgin. She was used, an adulteress, and she’ll be subject to the fate decided by her owner.”
Joe couldn’t understand what had been going through Dunlop’s mind to talk to a man like Ayoud, a stranger. She knew enough of what went on over here. She understood the depravity of these terrorists and how little value they placed on women.
“It’s not so black and white, Mr. Joe Reed. Women only want one thing. They only need one thing. Allowing them to use their minds and think for themselves will be the downfall of the Western world, of your nation. Look how easily your daughter let her guard down. She has access to a computer, freedom she hasn’t earned. Tsk tsk, you’re a poor excuse for a father.”
Maybe Ayoud was right about that. Joe would give anything to see his daughter again—and then he’d lock her up and ban her from ever having access to a computer.
“See, in her messages, how she worries about you? I tell her here that we’re fighting to bring peace and goodness and morals back, that you, too, understand this. That we’re the same.”