Seven Days From Sunday (MP-5 CIA #1) (36 page)

The wind knocked out of him, Aref looked up. The rude man had taken his place near the elected official. Someone stepped on his shin and Aref angrily reached out for something to grab so that he could get back on his feet. He unintentionally clutched part of the rude man’s clothing. The dishdasha pulled away and for a brief second Aref could see the explosive belt tied around the man’s waist. He glanced at the man’s hand. It was cupped around a detonator.

Horrified, Aref struggle to reach the man’s hand and pull it away.

“I’d rather do this by myself,” Ghaniyah told him.

But the driver didn’t respond. He remained focused on driving Yusuf’s truck. Without Abasah sitting between them on the bench seat, Ghaniyah could stretch her long legs sideways, across floorboard. The suitcase remained in place, on the floor in front of her.

“Straight?” the driver asked as they approached an intersection, the light green.

“Yes. Next light, left. It will be on the right. Next block.”

“How close do you want to get?”

Ghaniyah shrugged. “There’s a parking lot in back.”

The driver glanced at her with a slight grin. “Close, then.”

Ghaniyah looked at the man. She certainly hadn’t intended to draw him into her troubles. But after hearing Adnan on the phone, the desperation in his voice as he had said her name, she had broken down, crying harder than she had cried in years. Some of the tears were relief that Adnan was alive. But more tears were for what she was about to do – give Sharif the ricin in exchange for Adnan’s freedom.

The girl had been quite sympathetic, asking her why she was crying. The driver had been equally curious, but remained silent. Then she had told them everything. Who her brother was, what was in the suitcase, Adnan’s kidnapping. Surprisingly, the driver didn’t react at all to her story. He just kept driving. Ghaniyah had then confided that the ricin at her feet was the key to Adnan’s release.

After several minutes of silence, Ghaniyah choking back more sobs, the driver started talking about himself. He explained that he had two sons. Both had decided to join the Iraqi Security Forces. One had died over a year ago, massacred along with five other policemen. Their bodies had been found two days after their disappearance. Each man had had his hands tied behind his back, a bullet in the head. The driver’s other son had been wounded recently in a firefight, and the man had wanted to spend time with him.

The driver had then asked Ghaniyah what she was going to do.

Drying her tears, Ghaniyah had said that they needed to make two stops. First, a marketplace in Jadida. Then a pharmacy.

Reaching the roof of the five-story apartment building, Gonz was relieved to find that the two members of the Army’s elite 10-man Shadow sniper team were already in place. One man stood just behind the two-foot high parapet, surveying the target with powerful binoculars. He was the spotter. The other man was Staff Sergeant Tim Hillgard, a highly trained sniper Gonz had worked with in Afghanistan a few years earlier when they had nearly been over run by a swarm of heavily armed Taliban at a forward operating base. They had lost five men that day. Today, Hillgard was kneeling close to the roof’s perimeter, watching through the scope of his 7.62mm rifle.

In an ideal world, Gonz would have another sniper team on the other side of the target building. However, since the mission was completely last minute, only two members of the Task Force 2/69 team had been available. And Gonz knew he was lucky to have them. He had been given a report on the building layout by the Marine corporal who had also figured out Adnan’s hidden message. Gonz had then relayed that information and the GPS coordinates of the target building to the men’s commander, urging him to get the men into position as quickly and covertly as possible.

The two-man team had arrived in the back of a large Iraqi Security Forces truck. While the Security Forces men spread out on the street behind the apartment building, drawing attention to themselves, one Iraqi soldier quickly led the American snipers into the apartment house and up to the roof. He now guarded the roof’s stairwell. However, they hadn’t seen one person inside the apartment building on their way up the stairs, so hopefully their position would hold.

After a quick hello to the sniper team, Gonz used his own binoculars to study the south side of the warehouse. There were rows of broken out windows on all three levels. But there were no signs of life. “Might be a bust.”

Hillgard quietly announced, “Got a head shot. Second floor. Second window from the right. He moves around some, but he keeps coming back.”

Gonz raised the binoculars to his eyes. He could see the man, but at a distance of more than 1,000 meters, it was impossible to tell much.

“Al Mudtaji?” the sniper asked.

“No way of knowing,” Gonz answered. “But we have an asset in there.”

“This guy waved a sword. Saw it once. I don’t think that would be your asset.”

Gonz nodded. “You close enough?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I’m going over to the north end. We’ll go on my count.”

“Got a visitor,” the spotter announced as he continued to watch the building through his binoculars.

“Chevy Silverado,” Hillgard offered, monitoring the action through the rifle scope. “I prefer Dodge Ram trucks myself, but what the hell.”

Gonz quickly looked through the binoculars. He focused on the white pickup truck as the driver got out. Then he saw Ghaniyah. She struggled with something on the passenger-side floor. The man came around to her side and helped her remove a suitcase.

“Shit,” Gonz mumbled. “That’s her.”

“I got a clean shot of the woman,” Hillgard quietly declared.

Gonz continued to watch, moving the binoculars from Ghaniyah to the man. He was older. A very lined face. But he looked fit.

“Want me to take them out?” Hillgard asked. “I got the shot.”

Gonz didn’t immediately answer. He watched as they approached the building. Another minute and they would be out of sight.

“I got the shot,” Hillgard calmly repeated. “Take it?”

Ghaniyah suddenly stopped, her hand reaching out to the driver. He stopped as she gripped his arm, the arm that carried the suitcase. “I can do this.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the man said.

“Look, you don’t know Sharif. I do. He’s crazy.”

“That goes without saying.”

On the roof, all three tensely watched the scene unfolding more than 1,000 meters away. Ghaniyah still had her hand on the man’s arm, talking to him.

“Got a clean shot,” Hillgard reiterated, his eye to the scope, his finger on the trigger. “They go another ten feet, I lose them.”

Ghaniyah felt an odd sense of calm. “He could kill us.”

“Worse for you than me,” the driver said with a shrug. “I’m not young and beautiful anymore.”

Ghaniyah couldn’t help but laugh. Then her laughter abruptly turned into tears. “I don’t even know your name.”

On the monitor, Peterson saw the street bounce up and down. One building was passed, then an alley. Gonz was literally on the run.

A pop-up flash alert notice suddenly appeared in one corner of the monitor, flashing in bright red letters. Peterson had programmed the computer to alert them if al Mudtaji’s instant messenger was back online. He prayed it wasn’t the terrorist wanting to talk. With Gonz, Heisman and McKay in the field, he’d have to wing it himself. He nervously glanced over at the MPs who hadn’t changed their positions or their expressions. Then he clicked on the alert pop-up.

A moment later a three-star general suddenly appeared on screen. “At 1500 today, Cabinet Minister Hashamed al Jarkari was assassinated after speaking to over three hundred people at Baghdad University,” his voice echoed through the computer speakers. “We’ve got numerous casualties. Could be as many as a hundred. Method was a suicide bomber. Repeat, Hashamed al Jarkari, a cabinet minister who was elected last fall, has been assassinated.” The general seemed to take a deep breath, his brow furrowed with concern. “This guy was a friend. He firmly believed in a democratic Iraq and never shied from sharing those beliefs.” The general paused. “Let’s find the group responsible for this one, guys.”

Then the screen returned to Gonz’s Localized Video Display. However, the image was no longer bouncing at a good speed. In fact, it wasn’t moving at all.

Gonz had stopped.

Gonz peered around the corner. The street was empty. Not all that surprising considering it was a Sunday and he was in the middle of a rundown industrial area. However, he would still be exposed to the target building for a few minutes. But there was no choice.

He quickly moved out at a dead run.

Ghaniyah hiked up her long Arabian dress and led the way up the stairs. The driver, carrying the suitcase, was right behind her. Suddenly a masked man appeared at the top of the stairs, an AK-47 in his hands. With a steely resolve she didn’t know she had, she hardly missed a beat. She continued up the stairs.

“Got nine assets, divided into three teams, Blue, Red, and Green,” Heisman told Gonz.

Heisman, traveling with the Army Rangers, had made it to the location before Gonz and had quickly assembled the soldiers in secure locations around the target building. Now, the two CIA men were kneeling behind a dumpster on the north end of warehouse parking lot. They wore Army fatigues, flak jackets and helmets. They each wore a wireless headset in one ear. Heisman diagramed the positions with chalk on the asphalt. “ Blue Team, here, Red Team, here and Green here. Red will back us up. Green Team has the perimeter. We found an old car. Blue team can put it in play in a matter of minutes.”

Gonz looked at the crude drawing. He pointed to an area. “They’ll have to put the car right along here. We got a Shadow sniper team 1,000 meters south. Five stories up.”

“Pretty far.” Heisman marked the position with the chalk.

“They can handle it. Got windows all over the place. We’ve already seen one guy, maybe al Mudtaji, walking around with a sword. Problem is, there’s no way to know how many more are inside. ”

McKay came dashing toward them, keeping low, carrying gas masks. Technically, Gonz shouldn’t have included her in the assault. She was a CIA doctor, not a sniper, not a soldier. However, she had argued that Ghaniyah had been
her
asset and she had a right to see the mission through to the end. Anxious to get to the target building, Gonz had acquiesced. It was easier than arguing with her.

She handed out the gas masks while taking a moment to study Heisman’s layout, then pointed. “Iraqi Security Forces are now here and here.”

Heisman marked their positions with the chalk. Gonz nodded. He wanted some close to the Shadow team, covering their actions. The last thing they needed was for some young punk to spot the snipers and try and take them out.

McKay looked at Gonz. “Ready?”

Gonz moved his headset mic slightly and said, “Shadow, this is Alpha Team leader. What’s it look like in there?”

All three CIA agents heard Hillgard’s voice in their headsets. “Nothing. No one near the windows. Repeat, no shot of any kind.”

Gonz and Heisman exchanged looks. “Roger, Shadow. Alpha Team leader out.”

Ghaniyah, Adnan, and the driver were huddled together on the floor. When Adnan had seen Ghaniyah enter the room, he had leaped to his feet and quickly gone to her side. He had held her close with his left arm, her arms wrapped around him. “Are you okay?” he had asked repeatedly.

Ghaniyah had nodded, tears running down her face. She tenderly touched his unshaven face with the palm of her hand, and he tilted his head, kissing her palm. Then Adnan had noticed the older man. And the suitcase. Sharif had quickly put his sword on the nearby crate and taken the suitcase from the driver. His masked associate had motioned Ghaniyah, Adnan, and the driver to the far wall, telling them to sit down. They had obeyed without hesitation.

They now watched in silence as Sharif kneeled on the floor, quickly unzipping the large suitcase. He pulled out a large Ziploc bag, carefully palming it in one hand. A smile slowly came to his face. Then he gave Ghaniyah a harsh look.

“You thought you were so smart.”

“I did as I was told,” Ghaniyah retorted, her heart racing.

“No, you stole –”

“I did no such thing!” she indignantly told him. “My brother knew you were going to betray him! I was doing as he wished.”

Sharif stared at her, unsure.

“Blue Team, you read me?” Gonz asked through his headset.

“Roger, Alpha.”

“Standby, Blue Team... Shadow, you have a shot?”

“Negative, Alpha. No shot. Repeat, no shot.”

“Roger that. Blue Team, make your move. Repeat, Blue Team, I need you to make your move.”

“Roger, Alpha. Blue Team moving now.”

“He knew! He knew all along!” Ghaniyah said, rising to her feet with defiance.

Sharif shook his head. “No. No, he couldn’t have known.”

“Then how do you explain why he had me take the ricin? Take it away from Yusuf?”

Suddenly there were a series of short, loud blasts. Sharif quickly motioned to the masked gunmen. “See what’s going on!”

The terrorist went to the nearest window. He craned his neck to the street below.

“What is it!?” Sharif thundered.

“A car. I think it stalled.” He turned back to Sharif. “Probably a backfire is all.”

“I have a clean shot at the window,” Hillgard radioed.

Gonz glanced at Heisman who gave him a nod. They were at the backdoor of the warehouse, with McKay and three members of Red Team right behind them. All six wore gas masks.

“Take the shot, Shadow.”

Hillgard had the back of masked gunman’s head in his cross-hairs. Then he raised the sight-line a good ten feet to compensate for the wind speed and the natural gravitational pull on the bullet. With only the building’s plaster now in his sights, he squeezed the trigger.