Seven Days From Sunday (MP-5 CIA #1) (32 page)

“Okay?” Heisman asked.

“Just dandy,” Gonz grumbled.

“Probably got a broken rib or two.”

“Damn.”

“Hey, you’re better off than our friend in there.” Heisman grinned. Gonz strained to get up, and Heisman suddenly picked him up in one easy motion. He kept a protective arm around Gonz who swayed on his feet for a moment.

Standing on the patio, Gonz could now see that the insurgent was indeed dead, his body sprawled just inside the opened glass door.

“Sniper shot, by the look of it,” Heisman said.

“Got some vitals!” a voice bellowed again.

Gonz quickly moved inside the house, every breath feeling like hundreds of needles were being driven into his ribs. Heisman was right behind him. A Marine near the kitchen nodded toward a hallway. “Down there.”

As they headed down the narrow corridor, suddenly they heard a baby wail. A moment later Gonz and Heisman entered the modest master bedroom. A man and women sat on the edge of the bed. The woman was tenderly holding a toddler whose legs were crudely tied together with rope as she gently peeled away the last of the duct tape from the toddler’s cheek. The baby had obviously been gagged and was screeching in protest as the tape was painfully removed. The shirtless man next to her sat slumped over, his face bruised and bleeding. He had evidently been pistol whipped. The team’s medic was tending to his wounds.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Heisman asked in Arabic.

The woman glanced up, clearly surprised to be addressed in her native tongue by a black man. The fear in her eyes was clearly evident. “My son,” she replied loudly over the baby’s screams. “Faris. He’s only nine and–”

“He’s fine,” Heisman quickly told her. “He’s fine. He’s at the newspaper office.”

The Iraqi man gave Heisman a surprised look as his wife closed her eyes in relief, tears now streaming down her face.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Heisman asked.

“They came in...” The woman explained. “Four of them... They wanted my brother...”

“Adnan,” Heisman said.

She gave him a surprised look, then nodded. “They think he and Ghaniyah have something they want.” The baby continued a high-pitched bawl as the woman rocked him in her arms. Heisman could see ropes burns on her wrists.

“Where’s Adnan?”

“I don’t know... I don’t know... He came here... He tried to get all the men to go with him. He told the men that he would have it soon... But they tied us up. Taped our mouths.” Choking back a sob, she looked down at the baby who was crying loudly. “Even Badr...” She glanced up at Heisman. “What kind of people are they? To do that to a baby?”

“Where’s your brother, ma’am?”

“We don’t know,” her husband hotly answered. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this! He’s innocent!”

“We know that,” Heisman calmly replied. “We know that. But we need to find him.”

“They left,” Daneen explained, putting a reassuring hand on Maaz’s arm. “Adnan went with three of them. One stayed here. The leader, a man with a sword, he told Adnan he would have us killed if Adnan didn’t... if he didn’t... do as they say...”

Heisman turned to Gonz and quickly translated. After a moment, Gonz turned to a nearby Marine. “Check the body. Look for a pager. Or cell phone. Some way of communicating.”

“Got it,” the Marine said, quickly exiting.

Gonz looked at Heisman. “If the threat was real, how would the guy here know to finish them off?”

“Could have been an idle threat.”

“No. They want the ricin. They’re on a deadline and they’re desperate.”

Heisman turned to Daneen and switching to Arabic asked, “You have a telephone here?”

The woman nodded. “In the kitchen...”

Heisman said to Gonz, “They got a phone. We could tap it. Could be the call would be coming in here.”

The Marine came back quickly. “Found a cell.”

“Give it to me,” Gonz instructed. Taking the phone, he quickly scanned through the list of calls made and received. He unhooked the two-way radio from his belt. “McKay, Peterson, you with me?”

“Five by five,” he heard McKay answer. He knew her voice so well, he knew she was smiling. Then he remembered. The LVD was on. She had seen him go down and had been right there with him. The thought of that gave him comfort for some reason.

“I’ve got some numbers I want you to trace. See if any are live and if we can triangulate them.”

“This is stupid!” Sharif thundered at Adnan as he walked around the room swinging the sword from its hilt. “The Americans were here!”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Adnan replied wearily. Ironically, that was the truth. He had to get al Mudtaji’s men away from his family. The old warehouse was the only place he could think of. He now sat on a crate very close to where the American had been beheaded just five days ago. The dried blood on the wood floor had turned into a brownish drab color.

What Adnan had had no way of knowing was that the warehouse had now been compromised. They had made this discovery as soon as they approached the side entrance, which had been spray painted “2nd Bn 5th” and the date of April 14th, two days ago. Sharif had been furious to find the signature sign of the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines. He had sent the other two men inside to scour the three floors of the abandoned building. They had come back reporting that the building was empty. Sharif and Adnan had then followed the men to the second floor main room where the American Quizby had spent his final hours.

Sharif had been infuriated to learn that the Marines had been inside the building, too. Another large spray painted message on the wall read, “2nd Bn 5th.”

“The Americans were here!” Sharif repeated angrily, waving his dagger at the spray painted wall. “It is no longer safe!”

“Then leave.”

Sharif stared at Adnan with pure hatred. Finally he asked, “Where is she?”

Adnan returned his angry look. “She’ll be here.”

Sharif offered Adnan his cell phone. “Call her.”

Adnan shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

“Call her!”

“I don’t have a number for her!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“We’re working through a third party.”

“Who!?”

“No one you know.”

Sharif glared at Adnan. “Call this person! Call right now!”

“It won’t work,” Adnan protested.

“You call them and tell them that–”

“I can’t! There are designated times when I can call. Otherwise they’ll tell her it’s off. She’ll disappear.”

“When? When can you call?”

Adnan had no idea what to say. He just wanted a little more time. Glancing at his watch he said, “An hour.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sharif calmly told him. He suddenly thrust his sword at Adnan, the tip painfully piercing his throat. “You have to have an alternative plan. In case of an emergency.”

The blade breaking the skin just above his Adam’s apple, Adnan could feel the blood trickle down his throat.

Peterson was busy making last minute adjustments to the tracking software on his laptop. The five different cell phone numbers Gonz had given them were now in the system along with Ghaniyah’s number. So far, not one phone appeared to even be turned on. He frowned. “If Ghaniyah knows not to speak for more than three minutes, this might be a horrendous waste of time.” Peterson glanced at McKay who sat slumped in a nearby chair, sipping a mug of tea. “If she knows it, you can bet they all do. They’ll turn it on, give a one or two word command, turn it off. We’ll still have nothing.”

McKay didn’t respond as the building’s warning system suddenly started chirping. A moment later, Gonz came in. McKay stood and they stared at each other for a few moments. Then Gonz looked at Peterson. “Got all phones traced, right?”

Peterson nodded. “Yes, sir. Looks like they’re all turned off, though.”

Gonz already had his camouflage Army shirt off and was now peeling off the Kevlar vest. McKay quickly went to him.

“I’m fine,” Gonz told her, waving her off. But McKay stood before him, waiting.

Heisman came in, ripping off his bullet proof vest and carrying two bottles of water in one of his large hands. Gonz gingerly removed his vest, pain etched on his face. His T-shirt underneath was soaking wet. Heisman put one of the bottles on the desk close to Gonz.

“Take your shirt off,” McKay told Gonz.

“Nothing from Ghaniyah?” Gonz asked her, grabbing the water.

“She said she’d call in an hour.” She glanced at her watch. “That was around ten. So she’s what.? Two and a half hours late. Take off the shirt.”

Gonz ignored her, unscrewing the bottle top and greedily drinking the water.

“Next war, I vote for somewhere cold,” Heisman said. Like Gonz, the T-shirt that he had worn underneath the heavy vest was soaked with sweat.

“Always take on Russia,” Gonz said.

“The shirt,” McKay firmly told Gonz.

Gonz finally obliged, peeling the shirt over his head and revealing his chiseled torso. An ugly welt was clearly visible just below his left breast. McKay carefully felt it with her fingers. Gonz tried his best to ignore her pokes and looked at Peterson. “We can’t call those numbers? Have Heisman do the talking?”

“They’re not on,” Peterson replied. “At best you get voice mail. If they have it.” He sighed. “I hate this. Just waiting.”

He wasn’t the only one. The entire team was greatly frustrated. The truth was, no one knew exactly how they should play Ghaniyah when, or if she ever called back. If they told her the truth, that al Mudtaji had taken Adnan, she would go right directly to her brother in order to save Adnan. Which would probably end up with both of them dead and the ricin in al Mudtaji’s hands.

The Marines had transported Adnan’s family to a hospital and were staying with them until their release. Then the family would come to the Green Zone where they would be given round-the-clock protection.

Heisman glanced at Gonz. “We could try to bait them that way. Leave a message.”

“It’s an idea,” Gonz agreed.

“We don’t know
if
they have voice mail,” Peterson impatiently retorted. “Or
if
they do,
if
they’ll listen to it, or
when
.”

“Probably the sixth rib is broken,” McKay finally announced. “Need an x-ray.”

“No point,” Gonz scoffed. “If it is cracked, there’s nothing to be done anyway.” Again he looked to Peterson. “We got the best technology known to man. And we got the six numbers.”

“Which won’t do us a bit of good if no one uses them,” Peterson retorted.

“So? Give me some ideas.”

Peterson seemed to mull this over. Finally he said, “Our best chance is Ghaniyah herself. She has to call again.”

“Yeah, but she’s timing this,” McKay stated. “No call is longer than three minutes.”

“Then lie,” Peterson said. “Tell her something about her boyfriend so that she forgets to hang up. Or wants to know more so bad, she ignores the three minute rule.”

“Like what?” Gonz asked.

“I dunno.”

“Maybe just keep it simple,” Heisman offered. “Tell her that Adnan will be tried for the ricin, we know about her past with some other chemist that was making ricin, and we believe he’s the maker of it. She wants to prove his innocence, she has to come in.”

McKay shook her head. “She’s smart. She’ll know that we can’t prosecute without evidence. If she has the ricin, she has the evidence. It’ll just drive her farther away.”

“I agree,” Gonz said.

“I know!” Peterson suddenly volunteered. “She knows her boyfriend was hurt in the missile attack, right?” He looked at McKay, excited. “You told her, but that’s all she knows. She hung up, saying she’d call back. So when she does, you say he’s in the hospital with some kind of head trauma. Or a coma.” No one said anything, so Peterson asked, “He could be in a coma, couldn’t he?”

“I suppose...”

“You’re the doctor. Use all those big words. Say that... He’s in the hospital. He’s in coma, so he can’t talk.”

McKay and Gonz exchanged glances. McKay slowly smiled at Peterson. For a computer geek, he was actually pretty smart.

Ghaniyah unlocked the truck and climbed into the passenger seat, her feet stepping on the suitcase. She had taken the truck keys from the driver when they had pulled into the parking lot of the small café just minutes earlier. With Abasah complaining of hunger and Ghaniyah unsure where they would go now that they were in the city, she had decided it would be wise to break for food. Ghaniyah had also been desperate to relieve her bladder and had immediately headed for the restroom. She had worried about leaving the sacks of poison unattended, but she knew she couldn’t walk into the restaurant restroom with a suitcase. It would cause too much attention. So she had taken the keys and carefully locked the truck.

While she had been in the bathroom, the driver and girl had found a table inside. Abasah had never eaten in a restaurant before, and in her excitement had pestered the driver with endless questions. How many cooks were there? How did the restaurant know how much food to have? What if everyone that came in ordered the same dish? What would happen then?

Ghaniyah had then given the driver some cash and told him to order her some food to go. She would be waiting in the truck. Then she had asked for his watch again. Although she had told McKay she would call back in one hour, nearly two hours had since passed. She had purposely given the doctor more time hoping that she could finally talk to Adnan.

She turned on the satellite phone and dialed the same number. Carefully monitoring the second hand on the watch, she heard just one ring before McKay answered, saying “This is McKay.”

Ghaniyah’s heart raced. “Where is he?”

“Ghaniyah?”

“Where’s Adnan?”

“He’s in the hospital,” McKay calmly told her. “Yesterday there was an attack in the Green Zone.”

“Yes, yes,” Ghaniyah said in a dismissive tone. “I saw it on the news.”