The Forgotten Soldier: A Pike Logan Thriller (42 page)

84

F
rom his facial expression, Khalid was bored, but his heel unconsciously rapping on the hardwood floor gave away his anxiety. Every few seconds, he glanced reflexively at the closed doors Secretary Billings and Haider had disappeared behind, waiting on the outcome. The security man with the indoor sunglasses sat stoically one chair over, glancing at the door as often as Khalid. For her part, the assistant Leslie ignored them both, tapping away on a laptop.

Khalid stood, startling the security man. He rose as well. Khalid said, “I don’t know what’s taking so long. What’s this about?”

The man said, “Just routine. They’ll be out soon.”

Khalid smiled and said, “Because we’re Arabs, right?”

The man shook his head and said, “No, not at all. Can I get you something to drink? We have soda, coffee, or water.”

Khalid said, “Yes, actually, if it’s not too much of a bother. I’ll have a glass of water.”

The man left the room, and Khalid considered asking Leslie about the meeting, but decided he’d get the same answer. So far, nobody had shown any outward animosity, but that meant little. He heard the security man’s footsteps in the kitchen, then saw the office door open. Haider came out first, his eyes fearful, darting left and right.

Not good.

Secretary Billings followed him through the door, looking almost comically stern and authoritarian. Khalid said, “So? We go now?”

Haider clasped his hands together and said, “No. Apparently, we’ve come to Norway for nothing. Secretary Billings has changed his mind on allowing us to help. He now feels it will be counterproductive for us to attend the meetings.”

Khalid said, “Why?”

Secretary Billings said, “It’s just the way of things. The representatives of the Afghan High Peace Council don’t feel it will be helpful to have members of Qatar observe the talks. I made a mistake. I still believe you can contribute, but I can’t go against their wishes.”

Khalid saw the fear leaking out of Haider’s expression and knew something else had been said in that room. Haider said, “Secretary Billings has agreed to reimburse our travel expenses, but this trip was in vain.”

Khalid saw his new life floating away like a lost balloon released by a child. They were going to fail. He said, “This is ridiculous. We can still simply observe. We flew all the way here.”

Khalid knew his protest sounded weak and desperate, which was exactly what he didn’t want to highlight. But he
was
desperate.

Billing’s said, “No. I’m sorry. It’s not going to happen.”

The security man returned with his water, sensing something was amiss. He raised the glass, and Khalid made his decision.

They would
not
fail.

He reached for the water with both hands, an innocuous gesture. He clamped them on the man’s wrist, spilling the water and trapping the hand. He ducked under the arm, rotating it in a direction nature hadn’t intended, snapping the joint.

The guard screamed in pain and Khalid slammed his foot into the groin, dropping the man to his knees. He let go of the arm and hammered the guard in the temple. The guard fell forward, unconscious, landing straight on his face.

Khalid flipped up the man’s suit jacket, revealing a holstered Sig Saur P250 pistol. He snatched it and then stood, the entire action taking no more than a few seconds. The two men from the back of the house burst into the room, looking for a threat. They found it.

Khalid fired twice, hitting each one in the chest and causing them to fall.

Leslie shrieked and dropped to the floor. Haider screamed, “Stop it, stop it! What are you doing?”

Billings looked as if he was going to pass out, his jowls quivering in fear.

Khalid said, “We are going to that meeting.”

With his weapon still raised, Khalid pulled a radio from the unconscious guard’s belt and tossed it to Billings. “Call the gate. Tell them that the Range Rover can come forward.”

Billings said, “I will not.”

Khalid raised the weapon and said, “This isn’t diplomacy. I’m not asking for a debate. It’s war. You press that radio button, or I’ll kill you right here.”

Haider jumped between them and said, “Khalid, have you lost your mind? Stop it. Stop right now. My father would never want this.”

Khalid said, “Move away, brother. We aren’t really family yet.”

Haider raised his arms and said, “No. We aren’t doing this. Let’s get back to the airport and go home.”

Khalid gritted his teeth, realizing the dilemma he’d put them in. It was too late for that. They were committed. Stopping now would do nothing but guarantee the loss of his future patronage from Sharif, and yet Sharif’s son sought that end in front of him.

He said, “Brother, move away.”

Haider pressed his hands out in a gesture of surrender and slid forward, saying, “Don’t do this. You and I can still fight another day. This isn’t the end that you want it to be.”

Khalid realized that Sharif was correct. His son had no steel. No courage. Haider was worth more dead than alive as a lever of intimidation for Billings.

Khalid pulled the trigger, hitting Haider just below his left eye. The bullet tracked through his brain, exploding out of the back and whipping by Billings’s head, missing the secretary by inches and embedding in the wall. Haider’s brain matter sprayed out, a snap of moisture as if someone had popped a wet towel, the offal coating Billings in a thick mist.

Leslie screamed again, curling up on the floor and covering her head. Billings stood with his mouth open like a fish, shocked, afraid to close it and ingest the gore.

Khalid said, “Press the button on the radio, or you will be next.”

85

A
fter only thirty minutes of tarmac time, our little caravan of vehicles left the airport, heading south toward Fredrikstad. Knuckles and I were up front in the sedan, Brett and Nick on two BMW G 650 touring bikes in the middle, and Jennifer in a van bringing up the rear, the back loaded with all of our kit. Knuckles said, “We’ve got about a forty-minute ride, which means we might beat Blaine to the cottage. You want to go laager outside the town, burn off some time?”

My phone vibrated and I said, “Speak of the devil. Blaine must be on the ground.” I answered, saying, “About time, Showboat. We’re inbound. What’s your status?”

“Waiting on customs. I can see your aircraft, and given what little time it took you to get on the road, I take it they’re not that thorough.”

“No. Thirty minutes max. Did you get any further guidance, or are we still flapping on this thing?”

“Still flapping, but I’m sure you’ve come up with a plan. Oversight Council’s working it through Billings. They still haven’t given Omega, but they want these guys under close watch. It’s a little political, to say the least.”

“Yeah. I figured. Listen, I’m going to need some information from Billings.”

“Okay. Like what?”

“I need to know where these guys are staying. I want to put a full blanket on them. Bug their rooms, tag their vehicles, and penetrate their communication systems. The usual. Build up a case for Omega, and Billings can help with that. He’s still talking to the targets, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s a diplomat, Pike. I don’t know if I can convince him to use his position as a lever to facilitate Taskforce operations. He’ll make decisions as part of the Council, but he won’t turn into a commando just because you asked. I think it’s going to be an issue of principle with him.”

“I only need him to do two things. One, give me the hotel. Two, set up a meeting with his boys, then keep them there for an hour. Half the team will crack into the room while they’re meeting, the other half will identify the target vehicles and get a handle on their cellular communications. After that, he’s done. It’s not like I’m asking him to start slinging lead, and we wouldn’t even be in this position if he’d have listened to Guy in the first place.”

He said, “Let me give it a go. Don’t show up at the cottage until I’m done. Seeing you might set him off.”

“Because he’s jealous of my innate skills?”

He said, “Because he hates your guts,” and hung up. I radioed the team, telling them we were pulling over for a spell. We corralled at a gas station and I told them what I knew, along with where I envisioned the mission going. We’d been waiting no more than ten minutes when Blaine called again. I looked at Knuckles and said, “That’s either great news or Billings has told us to pack sand.”

I answered, saying, “Tell me Billings has decided he’d like to attend Assessment and Selection.”

I heard no humor coming back. “Pike, something catastrophic has occurred. I can’t get Billings on the phone. I got his assistant, a woman named Leslie, and she’s almost catatonic. Get to the cottage, ASAP.”

I circled my hand in the air, telling everyone to load up, then said, “What’s happened? What am I walking into?”

“I don’t know. I need you to figure that out. All she kept shouting was that Secretary Billings was gone, and people are dead.”

I hung up the phone, seeing Brett and Nick getting on their bikes. I reversed my command. “Hold up.” I looked at Knuckles and said, “Surveillance just went out the window. Kit everyone up for assault.”

“What’s going on?”

“All I know is that Showboat says there are dead people. We’re headed straight to the cottage to sort it out, and we’re going armed.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he said, “Beats the hell out of following those turds for days.”

He turned away from the hood and waved over Jennifer. “Bring the kit around. We’re going in loaded for bear.”

Five minutes later, the motorcyclists were each outfitted with a suppressed Glock 23. Knuckles, Jennifer, and I had a Primary Weapons Systems MK109 chambered in .300 Blackout, a folding-stock AR rifle with a Gemtech suppressor that made the cycling of the bolt louder than the bullet.

I pulled up an overhead image on a tablet that showed the thread of the road leading to the cottage. I said, “Okay, the house is about four miles away. Brett and Nick will lead.”

I used a pen to point on the tablet. “Head down this asphalt road and get a feel for what we’re looking at, but don’t penetrate the second gate where the gravel road starts. Peel off before becoming engaged, and use the bikes to get into the woods. We know Billings has a diplomatic security team there and I don’t want any shooting. Give me an assessment and we’ll follow up.

“Knuckles and Jennifer, we’ll park on the outside road, then enter slowly. I’ll have out a US flag, and we’ll sort it from there. Beemer guys pull security while we check it out.”

I got an up, and we rolled. Eight minutes later, we were tucked into a turnout, waiting on the motorcycles to report.

When they did, I found out they’d rolled right up to the second gate, ignoring my orders. Obviously, they’d already sorted it out.

Brett came on, saying, “Bring it in, Pike. It’s a mess.”

“Roger that. What did you tell them?”

“I said we’re Department of Homeland Security. Stick with that for now. They’re too shell-shocked to ask for identification.”

We came upon a disaster scene, meeting a guy in mirrored shades who was acting like he was calm and collected, but I could see right through that. He was shaken. We retreated to the house, and we learned the damage.

Two Arabs had somehow managed to kidnap the US secretary of state. The diplomatic security guys were giving us the information we needed, not hiding anything, which was surprising, because somebody was going to get annihilated for this goat fuck.

There were five dead in the house, all laid out neatly in the bedroom with sheets covering them. Four were diplomatic security, one was Haider al-Attiya. One other man was barely conscious, his arm a pretzel, with Brett providing him medical attention. Leslie, the assistant, gave us the best information. When she was done talking, I said, “Why did you guys release the Range Rover?”

The DSS man said, “Because the secretary of state demanded it. We’d already scrubbed it. There was no threat, and we sent a man with them.”

I pointed to the bedroom and said, “One of those guys?”

“Yes.”

“How did they get out?”

“They shot their way out. They came blazing to the gate and just started shooting. There isn’t any cover out there. We couldn’t return effective fire without harming Secretary Billings.”

“And your cars? The up-armored vehicles?”

“They were parked at the cottage. When we got to them, we found them disabled.”

Beating these guys up further was doing no good at all. I said, “How long ago? How much of a gap?”

“Less than twenty minutes.”

So the slaying had occurred while we were on the road. Making me regret pulling over to the side and waiting on Blaine.

I said, “All right. We don’t know what those guys are up to, but it’s either murdering Billings or harming the peace talks. I need you to go through State and lock down that site. Call off the rest of today’s activities and get them out of there.”

“What are you going to do?”

I continued as if I hadn’t heard him. “You got this scene. Call who you need to, at the State Department and the embassy, get anyone who needs medical care, but don’t call the police. I don’t need a bunch of gunslingers running amok with the SECSTATE’s life in the balance. We’ll take it from here for Secretary Billings.”

He said, “Whoa, wait a minute, that’s bullshit. Secretary Billings is my responsibility.”

I appreciated the sentiment, but that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t taking a bunch of unknowns. “You’ve got your hands full here. It looks like you’re one of the last men standing, and this is what we do. Someone needs to coordinate with the embassy, and it isn’t going to be Leslie.”

He nodded, accepting the information, then said, “I don’t even know who you guys are.”

“We’re just another agency, but the other side of the coin. You protect defensively. We do so offensively. We’ve been tracking the Arabs.”

He said, “So I guess we both fucked this up.”

I took that in and then said, “Yeah, we did. We both trusted Billings’s judgment.”