Authors: Mark Young
“That’s the stomping grounds of the 4th Armored Division. Most of the division is up north near the Turkish border quelling the resistance in that area. The guys who snatched Shakeela are probably Assad’s secret police, but I bet they’re taking her to that division to…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. They had to get to her soon—before it was too late.
“Keep me updated if they deviate from that direction. I’m going to try to catch up to them.” What was he going to do when he got there? Storm the military base and rescue her? He’d make up his mind once he got there. Right now, he must find out where they were taking her.
“A
ny update?” Gerrit estimated he was about a half hour from the military camp.
“She seems to be at a standstill, just outside the military reservation,” Alena said. “If she remains where she is, you should be able to see her once you arrive— Hold it, Gerrit. She’s moving again.”
“What direction?” Gerrit pushed on the accelerator, knowing he might be pushing the limits of the engine. Alena did not answer. “Did you copy me?”
“Wait a minute, Gerrit,” she said, slightly irritated. “She is…she’s going onto the military post. She just passed the sentry gate. You won’t be able to catch up to her. Unless—”
“Unless I breach their security and break into Division’s headquarters.”
“I am afraid so. Either someone has her in custody or she just lost her mind.”
“Once I’m on the scene, I’ll advise.” He clicked off the connection and focused on the road.
By now, the driver of the car Shakeela stole must have called the police. She would dump it as soon as possible, but she was irritated that her phone must have slipped out of her back pocket when she dashed toward the car getting away from Hanano’s men. Now, she must figure some other way to contact Gerrit and the others. She needed it to find out where Hanano was going. Lucky for her, that driver back at the hotel had left the keys in the vehicle when he went in to get his baggage.
She must find a way onto that military post—sneak on board another military transport or ram the gates and draw attention to herself. Shakeela chose the first option but she did not have the patience to wait for a military transport to show up. She began to search for one. She last saw Hanano driving through the security gate and wind his way toward an imposing building that sat on the first hill beyond the security fence. A concrete building that could take a direct hit and keep on standing. No windows. Few doors. It appeared this was Hanano’s destination. She watched him park and go inside.
On her third sweep along the highway that paralleled the military camp, she spotted a military truck pulled off to the side of the road. The driver jumped out and ran into a café. By the looks of it, the driver needed to find a bathroom.
Betting the driver was heading for the same security gate, she jammed into the parking lot, leaped out of the car, and scurried to the rear of the truck, a two-ton monster with a camouflaged canvas shell protecting the bed. She peeled it back, saw the bed filled with boxes of ammunition, and slid inside, crouching behind several boxes between the load and the truck’s cab.
The driver emerged a few minutes later, jumped behind the steering wheel and took off. Within minutes, she passed through security just as dusk settled. The truck veered to the left, away from the road leading to Hanano’s building. She glanced out the rear, waited until she was some distance from the security gate, then jumped from the bed as the truck slowed to make a turn.
Leaping to the road, she rolled to break her fall and came up standing, thankful the truck’s speed had been drastically reduced by the curve in the road. Glancing around, she did not see anyone in the vicinity and began to hike up the hill toward Hanano’s building.
As she got closer, she saw an obstacle she had not seen from below. There was a high-security fence around three-quarters of the building, along the back and left and right sides. To get inside, she had two choices—walk up to the front door and hope nobody was stationed inside, or somehow jump the fence and gain access through one of the windows or doors inside the enclosed area.
She chose option two, hoping to find a way over the fence.
Creeping along the perimeter of the galvanized cycle fence, Shakeela noted that rolled concertina wire had been strung along the top. Going over the top would be difficult. There were several large trees inside the enclosed area, protecting a green lawn from the sun during the day. One of these trees—an ancient olive tree, with gnarly branches and a contortedly twisted trunk—grew close to the fence. One of its giant roots had obstructed the path of the fence. Instead of taking their time to cut away the root to adequately anchor the fence, the workers had simply skipped a post, leaving the bottom of the wire loose and easy to push back.
Lazy workers made her job much easier. She grasped the bottom and pulled, giving herself just enough space to squeeze under and come up on the other side.
Once inside, Shakeela dashed toward the building and worked her way along the cold concrete wall looking for a way inside.
She continued to circle the building. On the backside, she found one single door wide open, a metal garbage can—filled with sand and overflowing with cigarette butts—stuck in the doorway. A smoke-free building in this place? Maybe it was a rule set in place to protect sensitive equipment inside.
Slipping inside, she closed the door quietly behind her. She listened for sounds that might warn her someone was close by. Muffled voices carried down the hall. She made her way toward the noise to see of one of those voices might belong to Hanano.
The hallway ran the length of the building. The closer she edged toward the voices, the more light poured in. She got as close as she could to the sounds and saw the hallway opened into a large reception area. No one stood guard. Maybe the front door was locked and Hanano had the key. The voices came drifting up from a stairwell. She ventured toward the stairs and saw they led to the second level. At the top of the stairs, beyond a reception area, stood a gigantic metal door, braced open by a chair.
Taking a deep breath, Shakeela started up the stairs toward the door. The closer she got to the top, the stronger the voices carried, although she could not make out the words. She must get closer. At the top, the stairs led to a second reception area with a desk on one side, and a number of file cabinets and stacked boxes on the other. As if whoever worked here seemed to be in transition. She made her way to the large metal door, apparently activated by a key punch on the wall to the left of the door handle.
Standing at the doorway, one hand resting on the doorknob, she peered inside and saw no one. Quickly, she slipped inside and darted toward a dark room off the main passageway. The door to this room also stood ajar. She made it inside just moments before she heard footsteps echoing louder.
Pressing herself against the wall, she waited for the person to pass. She hoped they had no reason to use this room. There was only one way out of here by the single door she came through off the main corridor.
Footsteps drew closer. She caught a glimpse of a man as he passed the open doorway. Not Hanano. The man came to the door and kicked the chair out of the way, letting the door slam shut. He whirled around and retraced his steps.
Shakeela froze, hoping he wouldn’t glance inside. The man continued down the passageway without stopping, and she breathed in relief as the echo of his footsteps diminished. Emerging, she glanced back at the door and realized the door could only be opened by a sequence of numbers punched into a keypad.
She was trapped.
“Gerrit, I lost her.” Panic laced Alena’s voice.
“Just mark the exact spot where you lost her. The grid map should have the coordinates.”
“Got it. Now what?”
“I’m moving into the area. Follow my path on your computer and make sure I’m headed in the right direction.”
“Okay. I see you.”
He had his foot all the way to floor, the rental sedan bounced over several potholes, the torque almost yanking the wheel from his hands. He knew he was driving much faster than was safe, but he couldn’t help himself. Deep inside, he knew the faster he drove, the quicker he might be able to save her.
When he neared the little town of Al Horjelah, he saw just how crazy his plan seemed. He read the Arabic lettering on a sign, pointing left, headquarters of the 4th Armored Division.
“You’re driving too far, Gerrit. You’ve passed where I last spotted her.”
“I know, Alena. Just passing the turnoff to the 4th Armored Division headquarters.” He jerked the wheel and retraced his tracks. Parking near the entrance to the military camp would only invite trouble. He glanced inside the camp as he drove by. One thing was for certain: Shakeela disappeared and he did not have a clue where she might be.
Gerrit continued a few miles and found a dirt road, almost a goat path, winding up a mountainside west of where he’d lost track of Shakeela. He parked the car, grabbed his binoculars, and turned them on the military compound in the distance.
He crouched beneath a scraggly tree, leafless branches reaching out as if begging for water. Leaning against the rough tree trunk, he used it to break his silhouette from those below who might spot him from base. He studied the barren compound, watching their patrols and sentries, looking for patterns or routines he might be able to exploit.
Assad’s 4th Armored Division may be his best-trained elite troops, but their security setup was a joke. The worst maintained U.S. Marine compound would clearly outshine this sorry excuse for an Army. They barely had a perimeter fence, and several sections sagged, badly in need of repair. They weren’t used to keep people from breaking in.
Fear kept most people out.
Gaining access to this place would be a breeze. Finding Shakeela, however, might be more difficult. He saw several concrete doorways in the face of the mountain. He knew what those might hold—ammunition and ordnances in a series of tunnels deep underground. He could wander for miles in those tunnels trying to locate her. In the meantime, he’d have to fight off an unknown number of soldiers housed underground. Hundreds? Thousands?
He just shook his head at the odds. Somehow, someway, he must try to narrow down this search. He just hoped he could find a way to reach her before it was too late, before they broke down her resistance. Before they killed her.
They would never let an Iranian-American escape from that place. And he remembered what she had told him about what they did to Muslims who converted to Christianity. The thought turned him cold inside.
He reached for his cell phone and called Alena.
She answered on the first ring. “Gerrit, any news?”
“No. I’m coming in. Tell Max and the others I need to meet them at the farmhouse. We need to come up with a plan—quick. And call Jack and give him an update. Tell him I need to talk to him about a rescue operation.”
“I’ve already spoken to him, Gerrit. He’s expecting your call.” Silence followed, and he was about to hang up when she continued, her voice lowered. “And you are going to be doing this on your own—our own. Max and his team are committed to taking out Henderson and the An-26 plane once they locate it. They will not be a part of this operation.”
“Tell Max I’m coming in. He’d better be there when I arrive, or I will hunt him down.”
Kadar Hanano slammed the door behind him, making sure it locked. Satisfied, he bounded down the stairs to the foyer. Once outside, he lit a cigarette and looked around at the barren ground around him. He wanted to be back in Damascus, eating in a nice café or restaurant, and maybe take one of his girlfriends back to his secret hideaway for a little entertainment, away from his family. His role in the government came with all kinds of benefits. The only downside was that all the problems of the government seemed to rest on his shoulders. Right now, they were in the middle of a civil war, and he had little time to enjoy the finer things of life.
He took another drag on the cigarette and felt his cell phone vibrate. Only a few people had this number. He yanked the phone out of his pocket. “What?”
One of his senior staff members was on the line, the man he placed in charge of coordinating surveillance based upon the names and information supplied by Hassan. “We followed Raed al-Azmah and the rest of his men to the airport. We have them in sight, but we lost the Jews. They broke off before we could regroup.”
“Find them! I need to know what they are going to do.” He looked across the barren land once again, dry desolation all around him. “And reach out to our operatives. I want to know where Atash Hassan is at all times. I do not trust that viper.”
March 15
A
dark gloom settled over the orchard as Gerrit gripped the steering wheel. The car bounced across the dirt road as he gunned the engine. Finally reaching the farmhouse, he slammed the car into Park, killed the engine, and leaped out. Alena stood in the doorway as he lunged toward the dwelling.
“Is he inside?”
She quickly nodded and held up a hand, refusing to move. “Stop, Gerrit. Calm down before you go in there and do something stupid. Listen to what he has to say before you tear his head off.”
Gerrit brushed past without answering. He entered the living room where Max and several of his men stood in a circle around a table. They looked up from studying a map laid out in front of them. Gerrit thrust a finger at Max. “What do you mean you aren’t going after Shakeela?”
Max’s face tightened, eyes squinting. “Look, you know our mission. It must come first. Our first priority is the airfield. We have to focus on the mission.”
“And leave one of our people to be tortured?”
“I’m not God, Gerrit. Can’t be in two places. We might be able to do something after the mission. I have my orders. Locate and take out the aircraft. Priority targets come first.”
“That’s three days away. She will never last that long.” Alena entered the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, glaring at her. He turned his attention back to Max. “Are you just going to leave her behind? Is that what you brave Unit members do?”