Renegade (2013) (33 page)

Bekah gave the question some serious thought. “Yaqub’s not just going to slink away. The guy’s not wired like that. If he didn’t have something better to do, he would have stayed here and died with his father.”

“Yaqub wasn’t planning on dying. This was for his father, a last hurrah. Yaqub’s after something, and he wanted us focused elsewhere.” Heath thought furiously, then locked on to a thought that left him shaken. “There’s a flight coming in today. The Joint Chiefs are arriving for a meet and greet.” He took off at a near run, heading for Gunney Towers standing tall on a hill overlooking the mountainside. “Gunney!”

Towers left his post and came over at once. “Yes sir.”

“Get the men up and ready to move out. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

“Goin’ where?”

“Back to Kandahar. That’s where we’ll find Yaqub.”

Towers frowned. “You sure about that, sir?”

Heath pointed back at the small cave. “You get the men ready. I’m going to square our departure with Command.” He glanced at his watch. If they hurried, they might make it back to Kandahar before the Joint Chiefs arrived.

If they didn’t make it, he was certain it would be too late for a lot of things. If he was wrong, he was pushing a lot of tired Marines for no reason. But he was more afraid of arriving late than of being wrong. He was sure he wasn’t wrong.

Tired and aching from the rapid deployment following the mountain battle, Pike sat behind the wheel of the Humvee and pressed down hard on the accelerator. The Humvee raced along the two-lane highway. Behind him, the other Marine vehicles trailed in a tight formation.

“What do you think you’re doing, bro? You’re just heading back into the problems you’re trying to get away from.”
Petey’s voice had been nagging Pike the whole way down the mountain.

Pike wished Petey would shut up and leave him alone, let him think, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen until he figured out what he was doing. And why he was doing it.

Thoughts and memories and hurt raged inside Pike’s skull, all of it threatening to break loose. He didn’t know what would happen if those emotions threw off the shackles, so he kept a tight hold on all of it. He told himself he wasn’t coming unraveled at the seams, but the truth was that he didn’t know. The last few days in the Marines had been difficult, and the desperation to get out from under an emotional overload had become a fierce push inside him.

The Marine in the passenger seat had tried talking to Pike, asking what all the hustle was about, but Pike had shut the guy down, not
wanting to listen to him. It should have been Cho in that seat, but it wasn’t, and Pike wasn’t ready to deal with that either at the moment.

After Heath had briefed the Marines, letting them know what he was thinking about Yaqub doubling back to Kandahar, Pike had told Heath about the caravan he’d seen hours ago. The Predators hadn’t had any footage of the area at the time because they hadn’t been looking for a feint.

If that caravan had been Yaqub and his warriors, they were hours ahead of the Marines.

Doesn’t matter how long Yaqub’s been in Kandahar. The plane with the Joint Chiefs isn’t going to land till it lands. There’s time to get there and do something about this.
Pike kept telling himself that.

Command had listened to Heath’s theory, and they’d agreed that they were going to bulk up the security details around the airfield, but the arrival was going as planned. If the United States military backed off, the retreat would be seen as a loss of conviction, a weakness. People would stop believing in the help that was supposed to be there. And after all the losses incurred from Yaqub’s troops in the city, the supplies were needed.

Pike put his foot down harder on the accelerator when they reached a straight stretch. In the distance, he could see the outskirts of Kandahar. He knew that Yaqub would be somewhere around the airport if the Joint Chiefs were his target, but finding the terrorist leader was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack again.

“HEADS UP, MARINES,”
Heath called over the radio. “Command says that tangos have launched attacks on military units and buildings inside Kandahar. We’re going to be entering a battle zone.”

Pike peered through the Humvee’s dirty windshield. The Kandahar airport lay ten miles southeast of the city proper. The military would be deployed all over the airfield. The terminal’s main building looked like a row of interconnected M’s. Glass filled the curved space. Humvees and Marines were in position all around the airstrip, but they were stretched thin trying to hold the airport and the city.

Everything in Kandahar had turned to chaos. In the distance, in the direction of the city, dark smudges left bruises in the sky.

Scanning the surrounding countryside, Pike noticed Predators roaming the air. The drones were photographing the flat scrubland around the airfield, relaying intel to the spotters in-country and the oversight operation stateside. Pike felt certain no one could be hiding out there.

So where was Yaqub’s attack coming from? What capabilities did the man have?

Pike keyed the MBITR. “Heath, this is Pike.”

“Yeah?”

“Look, Yaqub’s not gonna be here. If he was, the drones would have picked him up by now. When you’ve got them out looking for something, they don’t miss much.”

Heath was quiet for a moment, and the silence almost frustrated Pike. Then Heath came back on. “If you want to say something, say it.”

“We know Yaqub’s been doing business with the Russian arms dealers. I’m betting he’s picked up something he can use from a distance.” Even as he said that, Pike knew it was true and his stomach turned sour. “He’s planning on hitting his target and walking away a winner. That’s what this guy does. He’s not fighting for a draw here. He’s fighting for the brass ring. He wants to come back as leader of the terrorist forces. He can’t do that if he’s dead, and he can’t do it if he doesn’t make a big strike against us.”

“If that’s true, where are we going to find him?”

“Hiding somewhere in plain sight.”

“There’s no way to know that. We’ve been tasked to help hold the airfield.”

Pike tried to stem the black anger that surged within him. “Listen to me! We can’t do anything here except maybe help pick up the pieces if this thing goes wrong. We need to get out in front of Yaqub.”

Heath’s hesitation was a lot shorter this time. “How do we do that?”

“We find one of Captain Zarif’s playmates and put the squeeze on him. Wherever Yaqub is holed up, those turncoat Afghan National Police guys will know where he is.”

“We don’t know who those people are.”

“No, but the Russians will, and they’re not going to be feeling any too friendly toward them. That munitions dealer you picked up—Deyneka? He hasn’t told you everything he knows. You can bet he’s been holding information back. Any gangster with common sense would. You gotta have cred to leverage your way out of a situation.”

After a pause, Heath said, “All right, let’s chat up Deyneka.”

Pike glanced at his watch. The Joint Chiefs were still a ways out. But they were running out of time.

“How do I know I can trust you, Lieutenant Bridger?” Handcuffed and wearing leg irons, Illya Deyneka peered at Heath through the smoky haze of his cigarette. He sat at a plain table in one of the interview rooms at the camp.

Heath stared back at the man. He hadn’t gone through channels to get the interview with Deyneka. He’d just ordered the man brought before him.

“You’re not going to know until you walk through that door a free man.”

Deyneka shrugged and took another hit off his cigarette. “Then you see my dilemma.” He squinted against the smoke as he expelled it. “For that matter, how do you know you can trust me?”

Heath thought back to the interviews he’d watched his father conduct. Lionel Bridger had cut several corners to get his high-rolling criminal clients off in court, and he’d done it by railroading middlemen like Deyneka. The trick was to bait and switch. Make them think they were giving up one thing when they were really giving up something else entirely.

“We both want something,” Heath said. “I want to put an end to Zarif’s network, shut it down once and for all. You want the men who betrayed you dead.”

“Maybe dead is too harsh. Yaqub is good customer.”

“Maybe the terrorists are good customers, but the Afghan National Police guys who have turned thieves are getting in the way of good business.” Heath laid down images of Emile Evstafiev lying on a stainless steel table. “I read your jacket. Says you were a friend
of Evstafiev. Captain Zarif put your friend on that table. Shot him down in cold blood.”

Smoke drifted up from Deyneka’s cigarette. “I have heard this.”

“One of my Marines went after Zarif because he killed Evstafiev while he was in my Marine’s custody. That’s why Zarif is dead.” Heath let that sink in. “What I’m offering, besides your freedom, is a chance for the Marine Corps to do what you would like to have done.”

“You mean taking down Zarif’s network.”

“We don’t know all of them. If we did, we would shut them down. That would create a vacuum in the power structure for a while, and we would consider that a win.”

“I see. But you know others would come along to take Zarif’s place.”

“For now, I’ll be happy to take these guys off the board,” Heath said. “Guys like you will always exist because a market will always exist for your product.”

“For the moment, though, all things will be equal.”

Heath shrugged. “The way I see it, the munitions dealers will still have an edge. We’ll look for you harder, maybe even stop a lot of you, but we can’t stop you all.”

“True.”

“And for every munitions shipment we stop, the demand for the others will increase. As will the profit margin.”

Deyneka smiled and smoked his cigarette again. “You know crime very well.”

“I do.” Heath folded his arms across his chest. “Do we have a deal or not?”

“You should understand that I do not know everyone Zarif deals with among the Afghan National Police. I do know that there are—how do you Americans put it? Bonuses?”

“
Bonuses
works for me.”

“Yes, bonuses. These are kicked up to Zarif’s commanders as well, but I do not know them so much. I know some of the names of the police officers in the streets.”

“I’ll take that.”

Deyneka ground out his cigarette in an ashtray. “Very well. We have a deal.”

Heath took out his iPad and stylus. “Give me the names.”

Anxiously, seated in the passenger seat of the Humvee Gunney Towers drove, Heath watched as blue dots lit up on his iPad screen, overlaying the Kandahar street map.

Towers focused on his driving, but he spared a glance every now and again as he drove. “All those blue dots are Zarif’s people?”

“The ones Deyneka believes were on Zarif’s payroll.”

“And people who we’re thinking might be in cahoots with Yaqub now.”

Heath glanced at Towers.

“Somethin’ you didn’t understand, sir?”

“Did you just say
cahoot
s
?”

“It’s a word.” Towers looked defensive, firming his jaw as he swerved to dodge a stalled car that was on fire.

Overhead, the M60 suddenly roared to life and chased back a group of tangos that had massed in an alley.

“I know it’s a word. I’ve just never heard anyone say it before.”

“A situation like this, what are you going to call it?”

“
Cahoots
it is. And yeah, these blue dots are the ones that are supposed to be terrorist sympathizers and were known to congregate with Zarif.”

“Looks like a lot of ’em are congregating right now.”

That was true. Most of the Afghan National Police were equipped
with US military communications devices. Heath had negotiated a signal ping on the suspect devices to reveal their locations.

Hopefully the tactic had paid off. They’d know soon. Heath checked the time. The planes were due to land in the next twelve minutes. Their own ETA was eleven minutes. They had a brief window to operate in.

And there was no guarantee that Yaqub would be anywhere near Zarif’s people. It was a slim chance at best. But it was all they had.

Rounding the corner and seeing the Afghan National Police jeep parked sideways in the street in front of an apartment building that Heath had designated, Pike ignored the brake and laid on the horn, not slowing his approach at all. He pulled his gas mask into place with his free hand.

One of the policemen inside the vehicle got out and waved Pike to one side. Pike ignored the policeman, swerved hard to the left, and wove behind the parked car before the driver could react. Pike roared across the street and slammed on the brakes, bringing the Humvee to a rocking halt at the front door.

“Move it!” Pike unclipped the 870 from the dashboard and threw the door open. He got out, joined by the other Marines assigned to his unit—three men whose lives were in his hands just the way Cho’s had been. He pushed that thought away.
Get the job done, Marine.

“Get out of there, buddy. This isn’t your fight. You don’t have nothing at risk here. You don’t gotta prove nothing to nobody.”

Pike knew it wasn’t about proving anything, and he did have something at risk here. However complicated it was, this was the life he’d chosen. All of it. Surviving foster homes with Petey, deciding to get into the witness protection program, staying at the garage with
Monty and helping Hector with his math—all of those had been choices that had shaped him.

Get out of my head, Petey. I gotta cut you loose. I did everything I could by you, but there are other people depending on me today. I’m not going to walk away from that.

Pike tried the front door, but it was locked. Out on the street, more Humvees pulled into place. A loud-hailer barked orders to the Afghan National Police. “This is Lieutenant Heath Bridger of the United States Marine Corps. We are here upholding the peacekeeping efforts. You men stand down and you will not be harmed. Put down your weapons and step away.”

Someone out there started firing, the M4A1 pop-pop-popping, but that was cut short by the full-throated roar of an M60 machine gun.

Stepping back from the door, Pike waved his team to the side, then pulled a CS grenade from his ammo rack. He yanked the pin, held the spoon, and braced his shotgun, aiming at the door lock. When he pulled the trigger, the shotgun recoiled against his shoulder and the locking mechanism fell to pieces.

Pike rammed a boot against the door, knocking it open with a shuddering
crack!
Instead of going in, he tossed the grenade in underhanded as bullets pocked the door and whizzed by him.

Counting down, Pike stepped to the side of the door in front of a large plate-glass window and waited as tear gas filled the room beyond. He peered inside. Three men in street clothes fired Russian machine pistols at the door. One of them caught sight of Pike at the window and started turning.

Pike aimed the shotgun and squeezed the trigger. The glass shattered as the double-aught buckshot tore through it. When the tight pattern of shot hit the tango, the impact knocked him backward. Racking the slide without hesitation, Pike advanced, knocking glass out of his way with the shotgun’s barrel. As he strode into the
foyer, more of the glass dropped onto his helmet and shoulders. He ignored it and took aim again, never stopping, walking forward as he approached the tangos.