SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV (6 page)

She paused for a second. “She gave us a statement and a description, Kyle, and it fitted you, as well as two or three other Seals we know of.” Her voice softened a little. “Look, I know it may be stupid, perhaps it’s a crock of shit, but these guys have to go through the motions, and that means talking to anyone who fits the bill. Talk to them, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what? Disappear, run away?”

She didn’t sound amused. “Whatever. No, don’t disappear. Give them your side of things.”

Jesus Christ. Don’t leave town, that’s what she’s saying.
What is this?
He forced himself to calm down.
It’s all a mistake, and she’s upset, probably
put on the spot by the other cops in her department.
A thought occurred to him.

“I may not even have been in San Diego, Carol. That could clear me.”

A hesitation. “I know you were here, Kyle. I checked. It was one of my work nights. I recall you stayed home on your own.”

So he had no alibi, and he noticed her voice had cooled even more.

But shit, I haven’t raped anybody. It’s an act I find totally repulsive. Besides, women come on to me, so why the hell would I do something crazy like that?

He shut that thought off as soon as it surfaced. It sounded like what they’d all say. Even so, he had no motive, nothing. He realized she’d gone quiet on the other end of the line. There was something more, something she hadn’t yet mentioned.

“Tell me, what is it?”

“No, it’s nothing, I…

“Tell me!”

He heard her sigh. “You went to see your physician the following morning. I remember you told me you’d talked about your problem with the blackouts and memory loss you’d had the night before. But it’s nothing, I...”

“You think I could have raped a girl without knowing about it! Jesus Christ, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

She hadn’t replied. He’d ended the call. He didn’t want to talk anymore. It was crazy, lunacy to suggest he’d do anything like that.

But if I can’t remember, Christ, how can I even deny it? And what if I did…? Shit, no, it’s not possible! And Carol, she was so strange. What the hell was wrong with her, how could she even think it? Yet she did. She believes I may even have done it!

The two Black Hawks flew low over Bagram. They banked suddenly, plummeted downward for a landing but hovered over the helipad, waiting for clearance. Boswell went forward to the cockpit to talk to local command HQ. He came back into the cabin and called for them to listen.

“They say there’s a security alert down there, and Bagram is locked down tighter than a girl’s convent school. The air base has been reinforced with a company of American infantry, and outside the wire they’ve put in a couple of companies of Afghan regulars to guard the approaches. It’s a pretty big deal. President Hamid Karzai is here to meet the Pakistani Foreign Minister. They chose Bagram because it’s a secure area, and they want us out of the way.” He grinned. “If the Paki Minister found out we’d been inside his territory, shooting up the locals, he’d be pissed. They assigned us a helipad on the far side of the field, well away from the terminal, so there’s no danger of any contact. They’ll send transport out to meet us.”

They began their final descent, and Nolan looked out of the cabin window at the huge expanse of buildings and tents. At men and women, who scurried from place to place, most carrying something, packages, and boxes, all of them carried a weapon. Small tugs pulled lines of trolleys laden with munitions and supplies, heading for the scores of revetments that dotted the thirty plus acre site. While he watched, a huge Boeing C-17 Globemaster four-engine transport aircraft began taxiing out onto one of the two runways prior to take off. On the other runway, a pair of FA/18 Super Hornets waited, their engines idling while they awaited final clearance. At regular intervals around the perimeter, they’d stationed a number of Humvees, fitted with the lethal M134 Gatling style machine guns, and manned by grim faced troops in armor. Outside, the Afghan Army, in their distinctive green uniforms were patrolling the perimeter wire on foot, marching up and down. With the high number of ‘green on blue’ incidents, Afghan soldiers firing on ISAF troops, it was no surprise they’d kept them outside.

He turned to look at Boswell.

“You mention the guy we brought back, Lt?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re expecting us to bring in a casualty.”

Nolan sighed. “Not that. I meant, what he said about Abbottabad.”

“I did not.” He looked indignant. “That was some kind of a fairy story to frighten the kids. Riyad fucking bin Laden, bullshit. They got the right guy. Lucas here was there. I’m not making waves by bringing in a report of a new bogeyman.”

Nolan stared at him. “You have to report it, Lt. If you don’t, I will. It’s pretty important.”

Boswell sighed. “Okay, I’ll mention it at the debrief, but…”

Lucas Grant interrupted. “Lt, they need to know, right now, the second we step of this aircraft. When we were out chasing Osama, he switched locations like he was running from a process server. We can’t waste any time.”

Boswell nodded, finally convinced. “Yeah, okay, as soon as we’re inside HQ, I’ll talk to them.”

“You need to patch a message through from the cockpit. As soon as we land, they’ll need to put a guard on Danial Masih,” Nolan added. “He could have intel that’s worth its weight in gold.” He caught Boswell’s eye. “Providing it’s handled real quick.”

“Okay, okay. Anything else?”

Nolan stared at him. The Lieutenant ignored him and walked to the other side of the cabin, muttering, “Fucking ragheads.”

The helo bumped down on to the pad, and the door slid open.

“Chief?”

Nolan looked around at Lucas.

“Yeah?”

“If this intel pans out, you know what it would mean.”

“Another trip to Abbottabad to clear up unfinished business.”

“Yep. And the second time around, it’ll be much harder. They’ll have early warning systems, more guards, and much better defenses.”

“Probably.”

“If they want to send Bravo in as we’re on the spot, so to speak, there’s also Boswell. He’s not up to it, you know that, and I know that.”

Nolan grimaced. “Maybe, but I thought you were helping him out.”

“I’m doing my best. They said if his performance was improved, they’d jump me early to E-6, Petty Officer First Class, with a recommendation for early promotion to E-7.”

“I’d assumed it was something like that.”

“Yeah. It’s important to me. I’ve got plans. I guess you know what it’s like. You gotta wife and kids?”

Nolan closed his eyes for a brief moment and thought of Daniel and Mary, being cared for by their grandparents. Cared for, because their mother had been killed in a drive-by shooting, part of a drug war back in San Diego.

“Something like that.”

“Right. So I gotta help push the guy along, but he’s got a ways to go.”

“He has that,” Nolan agreed.

“Too far, in my opinion. He’s not up to a strike mission into Abbottabad, Chief. You know it, I know it, and I guess he knows it.”

“It hasn’t happened yet, Lucas. You’re jumping the gun.”

“Maybe,” the Seal said doubtfully. “But if they do send us in, it’ll be a whole new ball game.”

“No, it won’t. It’s the same game we signed up for when we joined the Seals. We go where they send us, period. We undertake the missions that are too difficult for regular units, and we go with the platoon commander assigned to us. End of story.”

Lucas scowled at him. “That’s the way to get us all killed, Chief. It’s not the way we did it in my last outfit. We had good platoon commanders, the best, not gung ho college boys on the make.”

Nolan sighed.

I’m not going to persuade the man, and he has a point. Boswell is something of a liability even though he’s doing his limited best to sharpen up. He has sharpened up, too. He has the making of a good Seal officer. He’s just slow getting there. But if they tell me to follow the Lieutenant on a mission, I have to go. Period.

“Let’s see what intel finds out. We haven’t been ordered anywhere yet. Bravo is due to rotate back to the States. Maybe they’ll let us go on leave.”

Lucas stared at him. “Yeah, right.”

What the hell should I do? A kill mission back to Abbottabad would put us into maximum danger, especially if Boswell leads it. Christ, I didn’t ask them to assign the Lieutenant to us. Yet if I agree with Lucas, it’s insubordination, and his connections would sure come down hard. I could, no would, be kicked out of the Seals. If I fail to spell out my misgivings about Boswell, it could be a threat to the safety of the whole Platoon. What the hell do I do? Wait and see. What else?

He disembarked the helo with the rest of the men. Two corpsmen were carrying the gurney loaded with Danial Masih out to the tarmac, and Boswell had assigned two men, Zeke Murray and Dave Eisner, to accompany it and act as guards. There was an ambulance waiting to transfer him to the base hospital. At least Boswell was thinking about security, which was to be welcomed. Nolan slid out into the Afghan sunshine with the Platoon, and they started the long walk to the HQ building. There’d been a foul-up somewhere, and apart from the military ambulance, there was no transport for them.

Well, a walk never killed anybody, and at least it isn’t raining!

Will fell into step beside him.

“I gather the new man was giving you a hard time?”

Nolan shrugged. “Not really, he’s between a rock and a hard place. They’ve promised him promotion in return for helping Boswell along, but he feels the Lieutenant could be a liability to the Platoon, especially if we tackle something real hard. Like Abbottabad.”

“Yeah, he’s about right. I guess we’ll manage, though, however things go.”

That was what he liked about the big PO1. He always managed. Nolan could count on him to come through, no matter what.

“I guess we will at that.”

They both looked up as a Humvee rocketed across the tarmac and screeched to a halt beside them. An officer climbed out of the passenger seat, a Marine Colonel. He looked to be in his mid-forties, tall, clean-shaven, pale-skinned, and as thin as a whip. He wore thick spectacles and looked for all the world like a college professor, than a military officer. His name on his tunic said, ‘Weathers’.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Randall Weathers, Marine Intelligence Department. I’m looking for Chief Petty Officer Nolan.”

“That’s me, Sir.”

The Colonel looked at him. “I’m told you spoke at length with the wounded Pakistani you brought in?”

“Yes, Sir, we chatted some.”

“Something about Abbottabad?”

“That’s right.”

Weathers nodded. “I need you to come with me, Chief. I’m going over to the sick bay to talk to him, and I suspect he may open up more if he sees a familiar face. I want you to accompany me. Climb in.”

News sure travels fast,
he thought
. Boswell must have made the call from the cockpit. Dropped me in the shit, more like.

While the Lieutenant was taking a hot shower and eating his chow, Nolan would be sat in a hot hospital room giving Danial Masih the third degree with Lieutenant Colonel Weathers and his pals. He shrugged mentally.

It can’t be helped.

“Sure, I’d be glad to, Sir. I can’t wait.”

The Colonel gave him a sharp look, but he kept his face straight.

They had to wait for twenty minutes until the physician allowed them into his room. Masih was lying in a cot with three drip bags suspended above him, and his chest heavily bandaged. He’d been pumped with drugs, and Nolan suspected one of them at least was some kind of a mild stimulant to make him alert and talkative. The old Pakistani grinned at the Seal when he saw him walking in behind the Colonel.

“You are the man who saved me. You have my thanks.”

Nolan nodded. “No sweat.”

“Would you tell me your name? I thought American soldiers wore their name on their uniform, like this man.”

He pointed at the Colonel’s nametag.

“Not all of us, no. It’s Nolan.”

“Nolan. Thank you.”

The Colonel leaned forward and tried, unsuccessfully, to mask his impatience.

“Sir, tell me about this Riyad bin Laden. Have you actually met him?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Sometimes, he would stroll around the town, always accompanied by his guards. On one occasion, his older brother fell ill, and I saw him with his Osama.”

“And how do you know this Riyad took over command of al Qaeda?”

Danial looked puzzled. “It was talked about in the town. The fighters get drunk sometimes and boast about the Sheikh! They said Osama was sick, and we were to obey the new Sheikh, Riyad, and protect him if the infidels came.”

“I thought Muslims didn’t drink.”

He laughed. “That’s nonsense. Most of the fighters I’ve come across in the town drink heavily.”

Weathers nodded. “I’d heard something like that. You’re a Christian, Mr. Masih. Tell me, why did they trust you?”

Danial smiled. “I’d lived there for so long they’d forgotten. And I kept my religion secret, very private, for there is always fear of reprisals. But recently, things have changed, and they have started to take their security much more seriously.”

“I bet they have. Okay, so you heard this Riyad was the new man at the top.”

“Yes.”

“What does he look like?”

“Riyad? He looks like Osama. It is difficult to tell them apart, except he is younger of course, by about ten years.”

Weathers closed his eyes, and they heard him mutter a curse. “So that would make him about early forties, yes?”

“That sounds right.”

“Tell me, where did you last see Riyad bin Laden?”

“In his house, close to the compound in Abbottabad.”

“Can you tell us where that is? The address, or maybe describe it for us?”

“If you wish, but after the raid, I doubt he will be there.”

“No? Do you know where he would be?”

Masih looked puzzled again. “Yes, of course. He will be in Osama’s command bunker.”