Meant to Be (18 page)

But with these thoughts
came a feeling of foreboding, a sense of apprehension so strong it
almost made her shiver. It was as if an icy hand had wrapped its
fingers around her heart in warning.
She
knew instinctively the message the warning conveyed.

She had met him too late.

Three days later, Lauren
sat in the steamy top floor of her building taking notes on the
compound across the street. With her clothes wet with sweat and
beads of perspiration dripping down her face, she tried to imagine
the feel of an ocean breeze.
The more you
sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war
was one of her father’s favorite expressions. Today, more than
any other day, that sweat was worth it. She’d not realized what day
it was until recording the date on the top of the journal, but the
surge of emotion the realization caused was no less intense than
that of previous years.

Today was September
11
^th
.

Suddenly her phone vibrated, making
her jump.

“
Hello?”

The voice on the other end of the line
sounded scratchy and far away. “Hey, it’s Rad from the
beach.”

“
Hey, Rad from the beach.”
Lauren’s heart pounded—not because of the phone call—but because
the target she’d been waiting for had just stepped outside the
compound across the street and was walking toward a waiting pickup
truck.

“
This is the first chance
I had to call.” He sounded muffled, like he was trying to keep
others from hearing the conversation. “Just wanted to see how
you’re doing.”

“
Doing great.” Lauren
grabbed her camera as she talked, focusing on the face of the man
walking to the car below and clicking away.

“
Is this a good time?” the
voice on the other end said. “Sounds like you’re in the middle of a
photo shoot.”

“
Oh, that’s okay, but hold
on one sec.” She put the phone down and moved to a different window
for a better angle, being careful to keep her body hidden from
view. When the wall of her own compound began to block out the man,
she stepped up on a chair so she could get a better angle. A few
more shots of the truck, and he was gone.

She picked up the phone. “Sorry about
that. I was just sitting here on the beach having a drink with a
little umbrella in it when this school of dolphins swam
up.”

She tried not to breathe too heavily
because Rad was quiet on the other end.

“
Funny, I didn’t get the
feeling you were going anywhere that had dolphins.”

Lauren didn’t have an answer for that
and couldn’t think of anything to say.

“
Well I won’t hold you up.
Just wanted to call so you wouldn’t forget about me.”

“
Don’t worry, Rad.” She
was perfectly serious now. “That won’t happen.”

“
Good to hear.”

The signal got scratchy, and Lauren
pushed the phone hard against her ear so she could hear. Finally he
spoke again. “I, um, won’t be able to call for a while, just so you
know.”

“
Okay. Thanks for
that.”

“
Sounds like we’re
breaking up. I better go. Take care, Lauren.”

“
You too, Rad.”

Click
.

Lauren’s legs began to shake, and her
entire body to tremble. She sat down on a wooden crate, put her
head in her hands, and began to sob violently as a surge of
emotions washed over her. Whether it was the fact that after five
years of sacrifice she finally had proof her target was here, or
that she had just heard the voice of the man she had not even dared
hope she would ever hear again, she didn’t know or try to figure
out.

Taking deep breaths to calm
herself, Lauren pulled herself together.
Remember what you’re here for.

Images of her parents entered her mind
as with shaky hands she prepared a data link to get the photos to
someone who had the power to do something about them.

Chapter 15

Rad sat at a picnic table
in a small dirt courtyard with a couple of other men in Jalalabad,
killing time before a briefing. The brick-and-mortar fire pit in
front of him, built by one rotation of men and added to by others,
was now a sort of town square for the military compound. The men
gathered here when not on duty, sitting on cheap lawn chairs and
benches while drinking coffee, smoking cigars, or just
bullshitting.

“
Looks like the briefing’s
going to be on time for a change.” Bipp nodded toward a small
hangar where a group of officials was entering.

“
Yeah. This ought to be a
good one.” Crockett sat back in his lawn chair and kicked out his
feet in front of him. “I heard they have HUMINT on our HVT, and
it’s a definite go.”

“
They always spread that
shit to get us pumped,” Reese said. “Then they turn around and
cancel the mission.”

Everyone laughed except Pops. “I heard
it’s for real this time. Like Crock said, they have human
intelligence.”

“
Really?” Bipp took a long
slug of water from a bottle. “Some crazy ass CIA spook actually has
eyes on him?

“
Thank God for those guys,
but I don’t get them.” Pop sat down on the picnic table with his
feet on the bench. “They’re sitting ducks when shit hits the
fan.”

“
Yeah.” Reese shook his
head. “Everyone thinks we have balls—those dudes are
crazy.”

“
Crazy is right,” Rad
said.

Even without human intelligence as
proof, his team had been preparing for this raid for more than a
month—first in the United States with intense training in a
simulated compound, and then here, formulating a force list,
staging vehicles, creating time-on-target calculations, and
identifying contingency plans. Strategies had now been game-boarded
and gone over with a fine-tooth comb. Rad knew his team was ready
and itching to go and get the job done.

He wondered if the reports of
confirmation were true. More often than not, they would get word
that a mission was under consideration, and after prepping gear and
arranging transport, would be told at the last minute it was a no
go. If positive ID had been made, was it going to be a grainy drone
image? Or did they actually have human intelligence as Crockett
said? In any case, his men were ready and focused, having planned,
trained, and drilled in country for the past two weeks.

Rad joked with Reese as he walked
toward the briefing room with large lumbering strides. Throwing the
folder he’d been handed onto the table inside, he took a seat on a
straight-back chair while a couple of the other men collapsed on a
stained, smelly couch in the back.

Besides the collection of rough
benches and mismatched chairs, the briefing room contained a large
projection screen for watching PowerPoint presentations or drone
footage. The wall on one side was covered with maps of the region
and diagrams depicting the hierarchy of the terrorists they
sought.

As usual, their CO, John McDunna,
didn’t waste any time. “Take a seat. Let’s get started. We have a
lot to cover.”

The lights went out and a projector in
the middle of the room came to life. “Gentlemen, I’m going to tell
you everything I know, which isn’t much, but I’m happy to announce
we now have positive confirmation our HVT is holed up in a compound
in Pakistan.

The men looked at each
other as each repeated the word, “
Pakistan
?”

Although drone overflights of Pakistan
had become routine, actual ground incursions were almost unheard of
and practically impossible to get approved in
Washington.

Reese cleared his throat. “So we’re
going to be working with PakMil?” It was obvious from his tone he
did not think favorably of the Pakistani military.

“
Absolutely not.” McDunna
lowered his voice as if telling a secret. “Too many radical
fundamentalists are entrenched in their government.”

“
We’re going in without
Pakistan knowing?” Pops appeared incredulous.

McDunna nodded. “We think we can
conduct the bulk of the operation without being noticed. Of course
at some point the Pakistanis will find out. We’re counting on you
getting out of there before that happens. The White House will have
to take care of smoothing over the aftermath.”

“
So the plan is to go in
and grab this guy?”

“
Grab him if he’s
unarmed—which is highly unlikely.” McDunna paused and gazed around
the room, knowing he didn’t have to explain to these men what to do
if he were armed. “This is going to be a surgical raid with a small
team to minimize collateral damage. We want to pose as little risk
as possible to non-combatants in the compound or to Pakistani
civilians in the neighborhood.”

Rad absently scratched his
beard as he listened. Even though this was going to be a historic
raid because of its location and target, it was, overall, pretty
routine. They would be dropped into the middle of a hostile
environment where they were guaranteed to draw heavy enemy
fire.
Just another day at work.

“
We all know this is a big
gamble.” McDunna paced in front of the room with his hands in his
pockets. “A lot of people in Washington and Pakistan are going to
be upset they were left out of the decision-making process, but
it’s time to do something decisive. We need to make our own luck,
and we need to do it quickly.”

An image appeared on the projection
screen of a man walking toward a pickup truck, followed by more
shots from different angles as he got in.

“
Radcliff, you’ll be
leading this junket so take a good look.”

An aide tossed a file that contained
the same hard copy photos in front of Rad so he could study the
images more closely.

Because this was a “most-wanted”
top-tier terrorist, Rad knew this was going to be one of the most
important missions of his life—his country depended on it. But that
didn’t account for the sudden funny feeling he had in his gut as he
flipped through the file. Whether it was instinct or impulse he
looked up and asked, “Who took these shots? Are we sure we can
trust him?” He threw the file back on the table and leaned back on
two legs of his chair with his hands behind his head. “Frankly, I
don’t trust those Pakistani bastards.”

McDunna rummaged through a folder of
files. “It’s not a Paki. It’s an American.” He pulled a file out
and flipped through it. “She’s been working in Pakistan for about
five years now.”

“
She
?” Again Rad felt a strange
sensation, this time working its way up his spine in such a way
that it was almost like a chill. “Can I assume this person is going
to be pulled out before we go in?”

“
No.”

“
I’m not sure I’m
comfortable with that.” Rad leaned forward and put his arms on the
table. “I mean, I don’t need any NGOs getting in the way of our
takedown.” Even though he was inwardly agitated, his relaxed
posture spoke of confidence and conviction.

“
Well, she’s staying,” the
officer said. “And technically, she’s not an NGO.”

“
What’s that supposed to
mean?”

McDunna sighed and slid the folder
toward Rad. “You didn’t see this. Take a quick look.”

Rad took the folder and ran
his eyes over the first page. It was a simple resume with no name
attached:
Graduate of the U.S. Naval
Academy (Arabic Studies, major/Political Science,
minor).

Fluent in Farsi, Urdu,
Turkish, Kurdish, and Arabic.

Knowledge of Pashto, Dari,
Persian, Hindi.

Extracurricular: High Power
Rifle Team, Fencing and Pistol Shooting.

Rad blinked as he tried to read
faster, knowing he would only be permitted to have the file for a
few moments.

Interpreter for Defense
Attaché Office in the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad

Turning to the last page in the folder
caused the odd feeling in his gut to become a quiver of pure
anguish. As the calm, low-toned voice of McDunna went on in front
of him, realization of what he was staring at became a black abyss
yawning before him.

Side by side were two low-quality,
photocopied pictures, both so dark as to be barely distinguishable.
The first was a standard military headshot, and the second was a
woman wearing a headscarf, revealing only her eyes.

His gaze fell to the names beneath
each photo, though he knew they were the same person. LAUREN
CANTRELL and AMINAH UMAR.

Rad laid the file down as calmly as he
could and shoved it back toward McDunna, hoping no one would notice
his hand had begun to tremble. He continued to stare at the closed
file as he talked because he didn’t know where else to look. “So
we’re going to leave her in there after we invade a sovereign
country and take out an HVT they’ve been protecting.” It wasn’t a
question. It was a statement of fact he was trying to wrap his
brain around. His voice remained calm despite the pounding and
ringing in his ears.