The Team (10 page)

Chapter 25

Al Udeid

The team woke up leisurely and headed to the mess hall, a few at a time. No one woke Mackey, and the overall mood was that of “a day off”—a very rare occurrence. The SEALs were up early, along with Marine sniper Hodges, who had grown up on a farm and was always up before sunrise. The eight of them walked together over to the mess hall.

“Why ain’t you sleeping in like the boss?” asked Hodges to Cascaes.

“You could have slept, why didn’t you?” asked Chris.

He shrugged. “Must be the farm boy in me.”

“Well, nothing wrong with hitting the ground running. Lots of pilots around here, I’m betting the food is good.”

The men lined up with everyone else and filled trays with food from the buffet. Hodges had guessed correctly, and there was a huge selection, including grits and biscuits and gravy. Eric filled his plate with grits and mixed scrambled eggs into it. Then he poured gravy all over the biscuits.

“You do that on purpose?” asked Moose, staring in disbelief at the mess on Eric’s plate.

“You never ate grits and eggs?”

Moose was still staring. “That would be a no. And what the hell did you do to your rolls?”

“Biscuits! Biscuits and gravy! I can’t believe they have it here in Qatar! Feels like I’m home.”

A young kid working behind the counter smiled at Eric and quietly said, “Quartermaster’s from Georgia.”

“Well it’s high cotton. I’m a happy man,” said Eric.

“And I’m going to puke watching you eat,” said Moose as he grabbed a stack of pancakes and a huge pile of bacon and sausage. Moose glanced over at Ripper’s plate and saw the immense pile of food Ripper had stacked on his tray. “Jesus. Between country boy over here and your fat ass, I could really lose my appetite.”

Ripper shrugged. “I don’t see you worrying about your diet, Mr. Sausage-Bacon-Pancake Fatass.”

“That really hurts, man,” said Moose sarcastically. He then reached over and grabbed a sausage off of Ripper’s plate, which he shoved in his mouth.

By the time the eight of them were finishing up, everyone else except Mackey had joined them for breakfast. The group relaxed and joked, enjoying the morning off. Mackey walked in just as they were all about ready to leave. They all said hello to the boss, who filled a plate and took a seat by Cascaes.

“You slept a long time,” said Chris quietly. “I’m jealous. I forgot how to sleep late ten years ago.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. Been on the horn with Langley. It’s going to get busy sooner than later.”

“They have something solid?”

“Not exactly, but they’re pulling a lot of intel from the bugs we dropped. When I finish eating, we’ll take a few minutes and I’ll catch you up.”

Chapter 26

Al Hamaq

Rasheed sat on the hard ground sobbing outside the barn. Abu and a few of his men had left, leaving two guards with AK47s watching over the distraught man. After a while, one of the men commanded Rasheed to get up and open the doors, which he did.

After Rasheed pulled open the large barn doors, the men told him to wait another five minutes. Even from the doorway, Rasheed could see what was left of Jamal. His body was still tied to the pole, but he was as white as Abu’s robes. The skin on his face had blistered to the point that he was unrecognizable. Foam was running out of his nose and gaping mouth, and his red eyes were wide open, not seeing anything. Quite simply, he was hideous.

Rasheed began praying. The two men ordered him inside after a few minutes, but stayed outside themselves. They waited until Rasheed approached Jamal’s body and didn’t die himself before they walked inside.

“Don’t touch his clothes!” one of them yelled.

Rasheed looked back at them.

“The air is clear, but it stays on clothes and skin for a long time. Leave him. Take your crate and go.”

“I can’t leave him,” said Rasheed.

“He’s dead. If you touch him, you’ll join him. Take your bomb and go.”

Rasheed looked at Jamal one last time and then walked quickly to the hydraulic cart, straining as he pulled it out of the barn. The two men watched him a few seconds and then decided to help so they could get rid of him. They also didn’t want him dropping any of the bomblets.

Between the three of them, they pushed and pulled the cart outside and told Rasheed to get his van, which he did. Once the rear doors were open, the cart was cranked up to the same height as the rear floor by way of a winch built into the cart, and the bomb was pushed off the rollers into the back of the van which creaked and dropped a centimeter or two. They threw a blanket from the back of the van over the huge weapon.

The men slammed the doors closed and grabbed Rasheed by his shirt. “You take that road back to the highway. If we ever see you again you’re dead, you understand? Abu doesn’t like the way you do business.”

Rasheed threw the van into drive and drove off with tears in his eyes. He hated leaving Jamal, who had been willing to die for the Jihad, but wanted to die in battle like a martyr, not the way he had been wasted. He drove as smoothly as possible on the country road, taking it slow and steady. The bomb was sitting on the floor, secured only by its own weight. When he got to the highway, he made a right and headed east, slowly increasing his speed until he began to calm down. When he felt safe, he pulled out his disposable cell phone and pressed send.

Abdul Aziz, “Servant of the Powerful One” answered his phone. Abdul was the leader of a small sect of Wahhabi Jihadists operating inside Saudi Arabia with missions in Iraq, Afghanistan, and an occasional strike in Europe when possible. Only Rasheed had this particular phone number.

“Salam,” he said quietly.

“I’m on my way,” he said, sounding very distraught.

“What’s wrong?” asked Abdul, always extremely cautious, especially when using a cell phone. He constantly scanned the sky whenever he was about to make a call, fearful of the dreaded drones.

“They killed Jamal!”

Abdul’s face fell. “They double crossed us?” His face was turning red under his white robe.

“I have the bomb, but Abu Mohamed was angry about waiting for the money and was offended when I wanted to make sure the Sarin was real. He used it on Jamal to prove it. It was horrible to see.”

“Get here as fast as you can.”

“Two hours or so,” said Rasheed. He hung up and prayed for Jamal as he drove through the endless desert towards the abandoned plant that served as headquarters for some of the deadliest terrorists in the world.

Chapter 27

Al Udeid Air Base

Mackey and Cascaes were sitting in a small office near their barracks. It was typical military neat and very sterile. Beige paint had apparently been on sale when the contract had been awarded by the government. The rest of the team had been given the entire day off to do whatever they wanted. It sounded wonderful, except there was very little to do on the base, and it was over a hundred degrees outside with a wind that blew like a blast-furnace. Most of the men listened to music, cleaned weapons, wrote emails, Skyped with friends, or watched whatever was available on satellite television.

Mackey had a laptop and was opening up encrypted emails that included pictures of Middle Eastern men while speaking with Kim Elton and Dex Murphy back in Langley.

“Our techs have been pouring over a ton of communications and data from the bugs you set up. We’re trying to create a picture of what’s going on over there. It’s alarming,” said Kim.

“Alarming how?” asked Mackey.

“Well, here in the US, you can’t deposit ten grand without a paper trail through the banking system. Prince Awadi’s got huge cash deposits and withdrawals happening on a regular basis, and if we didn’t have someone inside the bank, we’d never know about any of it. That fifty million you clipped must have been to finance whatever’s going on over there, and there’s a second withdrawal for the same amount a couple of days later, which we assume is the replacement money. But we still don’t know what it’s for. The smart money is on weapons of mass destruction. No one needs fifty million to build a few IEDs.”

“Right, I think we assumed that from the start,” said Mackey.

“There have been some rumors we’re trying to follow up on,” said Kim tentatively. She looked at Dex, who nodded and jumped in.

“Look, we don’t work on guessing or conjecture. I like solid intel before it gets passed around, but you guys are in the field. We may need you to do some of the follow up yourselves,” said Dex.

“Sure. What are you hearing?” said Mackey.

“Mack, for all I know it’s total bullshit. But it’s too scary to ignore. You know the UN monitored the Syrians when they took apart their chemical weapons stockpiles, but there’s no way to know if they ever got it all. Hell, there’ve been recent Sarin attacks in Iraq and Afghanistan. The shit’s coming from somewhere, and the most likely culprits are Iraq and Syria. We got word through the Israelis that a shipment of Sarin went from Syria to Lebanon and then vanished. Supposedly, it was a large weapon.”

“Fifty million dollars worth?” asked Cascaes.

“Well, not fifty million to the guys who sell it the first time, but after it passes through a few middlemen, who knows? Is fifty million a fair asking price for something that can kill tens of thousands of people?” replied Dex.

Chris and Mackey looked at each other. “Sarin?” asked Chris out loud, to no one in particular. “What kind of delivery systems were the Syrians using?”

Dex answered, “They had dumb bombs and artillery shells. Similar to the Honest John types we were using back in the sixties. Theirs are even more primitive. Glass bomblets inside the shells.”

Chris thought for a second. “So they could disassemble the thing and pass out a hundred or so smaller Sarin bombs for suicide bombers, bobby traps, IEDs; it wouldn’t necessarily have to be a singular large scale event.”

“The possibilities are endless,” agreed Dex.

“So what can we do from our end?” asked Mackey.

“Right now, nothing. We’re buying a lot of favors and squeezing where we can. I’m hoping we have a solid lead for you within a day or two.”

“That’s fast, what’s going on?” asked Mackey.

“Bank cameras captured the images of the two guys who picked up the cash for the prince. The bank won’t share that kind of information, but we have our guy inside. He’s more worried about his own bank account, fortunately for us. We have facial recognition software working on it, as well as some local informants. If these two are important, we’ll get some names and leads.

Chapter 28

Abandoned Oil Facility, Saudi Desert

Rasheed pulled into the compound slowly, and a man appeared from the shadows and opened the metal gate. The compound was a dinosaur skeleton in the desert—ancient, hulking, and dead, with giant metal machinery that had long rusted into oblivion. The cluster of buildings looked like they had been dropped in the middle of nowhere. Once inside the compound, Rasheed drove slowly into a large corrugated aluminum building. Perhaps once shiny and silver in the sun, the building was now brown and beginning to fall apart. He parked in the rear of the open structure and stopped the engine. Men began flowing into the building, excited and loud, screaming, “God is great!” as they greeted their comrade, now a very important person, indeed.

Abdul Aziz appeared from the group of men, wearing a long white shirt and robes. His salt and pepper chin beard made a long point off his face like the evil genie in a child’s cartoon. His mirrored sunglasses hid his dark, hate-filled eyes.

Rasheed stepped out of the van, into the hot stale air of the old building. It was over a hundred degrees, and there wasn’t any hint of a breeze. At least the metal roof kept the sun off of them. Rasheed walked to the rear of the van and opened the door, then pulled off the blanket revealing the large bomb that filled the entire rear of the van. When the men saw it, they began praising Allah. Abdul walked straight to the van and greeted Rasheed, then looked inside at the bomb with great admiration. He quietly prayed for a moment, and then grabbed Rasheed by the arms excitedly.

“Jamal’s death was not in vein! This weapon will change everything! God is great!” he screamed. The rest of the men in the building all cheered and repeated, “
Allahu Akbar!”

After a moment of celebration, Abdul raised his hands and the crowd went silent. “We have preparations to make. Everything we do from here on must be done with great care. Any mistakes with the Sarin will kill all of us before we can complete God’s will. Pay attention and follow instructions and, God willing, we will drive the Infidels from the Holy Lands.”

Chapter 29

CIA Briefing

Mackey and Cascaes were back in Mackey’s room talking to Langley on a video conference. Kim and Dex were obviously excited on their end of the phone.

“We’ve finally got something,” announced Kim, the excitement showing in her face.

“Shoot,” replied Mackey.

“The Bedouins, of all people, gave us a break. This is huge.” said Kim.

“And these are folks who n
ever
talk to
anyone
about
anything
,” interrupted Dex.

“So why now? You sure it’s reliable?” asked Cascaes.

“Yes. Listen…these Bedouin tribesmen are moving through the desert by camel, and they come upon a body. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they’d just pass it and not say a word. But
this
body is so disturbing in appearance, and has a pair of dead Golden Jackals next to it, that they decide to notify the authorities,” said Kim.

“I’m not sure I’m following,” said Mackey. “Dead jackals?”

“Yes. That’s what made them stop and look closer. The jackals found the body and opted for a quick meal. They had a lick or two and dropped dead. The body was very blistered and chemically burned—not sunburned. A few of the Bedouins had seen the effects of Sarin gas before, probably in Iraq, although I’m not sure about that part. Anyway, they knew the jackals had died from trying to eat the bodies, proving to them, in their minds, that something was very wrong. They decided to call it in to the Saudi authorities.”

“So these tribesmen just happened to have a phone?” asked Mackey skeptically.

“Yes. And satellite television on flat-screens inside their tents. They’re Bedouin, not Amish. They even sent a few photos of the body with the GPS location—the body had been dumped in the desert, far from any town or road. If the jackals hadn’t been digging around the body, I doubt they’d have spotted it or called it in. Anyway, the Saudis sent a team and recovered it. Lab tests confirmed Sarin residue, and fingerprints got a match.”

The word Sarin hung in the air like the poison itself.

“A match to whom?” asked Mackey.

“A suspected terrorist from the New Wahhabi Jihad. He was just a low level soldier, but he was being watched. A guy named Jamal Salam. He was being looked at in a few bombings. But here’s where it all starts to come together. Remember I told you we had video from the bank that our facial recognition software was working on? Well, the fingerprints and video matched. Jamal Salam, the dead body in the dessert, is also one of the two men that withdrew fifty million dollars for Prince Awadi.”

“Holy shit” said Cascaes quietly.

“Wait, it gets a lot better,” replied Kim. “Your bugging devices picked up a call from a disposable cell phone to Prince Awadi. Then a call from Awadi
back
to the cell a few minutes later, and then a
video
from the cell back to Awadi.”

“What kind of video?” asked Mackey, his furrowed face showing his interest.

“An execution video.
This
is the prize,” said Kim, her heart pounding in her chest. “In the video, a man decapitates Tariq Fareed. Tariq is NWJ for sure, but that’s not the big news. The man who murdered him in the video is the big fish—Abu Mohamed.”

“Wait a second,” said Cascaes. “This Tariq guy, was he the other guy at the bank with Jamal?”

“No, we’ll get to that in a second. Abu Mohamed is one of the largest illegal arms dealers in the Middle East. We’ve been after him for five years, but the guy is very careful. If anyone could get Sarin from Syria, it would be him. Now, based on the video, we believe that Tariq was meeting Abu Mohamed to make the pickup of the Sarin. The fifty million that you intercepted put a wrench in the deal, and Mohamed took it out on Tariq. You with me?”

Mackey and Chris both nodded automatically. “Who was at the bank with Jamal?” asked Cascaes again.

“We’ve confirmed the identity of the other man as Rasheed Rawani, a Saudi national known to be a member of the New Wahhabi Jihad. He’s been on our radar since the Embassy bombing in Riyadh last year. If he’s alive, our guess is
he’s
where you find the Sarin.”

“Not Abu Mohamed?” asked Chris.

“Mohamed is an arms dealer, not a soldier. If he brought in Sarin, it was to sell, not to use. Now, if he was as pissed at Rasheed as he was at Jamal or Tariq, then Rasheed’s dead, too, and Abu Mohamed still has the Sarin. Or, if the deal went down with the second fifty million, then Abu Mohamed is in the wind again with a big bag of cash, and Rasheed Rawani has a very big bomb somewhere in Saudi.”

They were all silent for a moment. “But you don’t think the target is in Saudi?” asked Chris.

“Hard to say with any certainty, but the rumors and chatter we’ve been picking up reference Doha, Qatar, not Riyadh.”

“Why not warn Qatar and let them step up border patrol?” asked Chris.

Dex and Kim looked at each other. “Chris, you’re still thinking like an American,” said Dex. “If we warn the Qataris, most likely it gets back to Abu Mohamed or Rasheed Rawani, and they just pick a different target or work a way around border security.”

“Great allies,” replied Chris quietly.

“So what’s the play?” asked Mackey.

Kim’s face showed great intensity. “Remember I told you that we had the execution video. Iphone pictures and videos contain GPS information. We know the exact location of where Tariq was executed. Had it been in a city, we’d figure they had quickly moved to a different safe house; but this is a very remote location. We think we found Abu Mohamed.”

She let that sink in. “Mack, we’ve been after him for
five years
. This is the closest we’ve ever been. We need your team to go check it out.”

“We’re not talking a baseball game,” said Mackey.

Dex interrupted. “No baseball. Covert assault on a hostile target. And Mack, there’s a chance the Sarin is still there.”

“That’s comforting,” he replied.

“We’ve looked at the layout of the compound. It’s a farm with a couple of houses and barns. We’re getting a drone over it now to try and get a head count.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Cascaes.

“Similar assault to how we got Bin Laden. We bring you in with stealth choppers, drop you nearby, and let you hit the house at oh-four-hundred when everyone’s asleep. Night vision and surprise should get you in and out quickly. The Moon Dogs can fly what appears to be a routine flight from Doha to Riyadh. They take the scenic route and jam all electronics in the area of the compound along the way. It will cover the choppers in and out and also prevent any electronic detonations, in case the Sarin’s wired.”

Cascaes sighed. “We crashed a chopper in the Bin Laden raid. It all sounds so simple. Like stealing fifty million from a fruit truck.”

Kim leaned forward towards the camera, her face almost glowing with her energy. “Chris, you have one of the best teams of Special Operators ever assembled. We have a slim chance of taking down Abu Mohamed and grabbing a Sarin bomb, if it’s still there. Even if the Sarin is gone, Mohamed may know where it went. This is it. Our big break. We need you to get it done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

Dex cleared his throat. “There’s another wrinkle.” He paused. “You’ll be operating in Saudi Arabia, one of our strongest allies in the region, without their knowledge or permission. If something goes wrong, it will present an extremely difficult position for the administration. You won’t be wearing official uniforms, not that anyone wouldn’t know in two seconds you’re Americans.”

“So we’re on our own,” said Cascaes bluntly.

Dex looked uncomfortable. “Look—you get in, you ghost the bad guys, grab the Sarin if it’s there, and get out. You’ll be ex-filled to Doha.”

“What if the Sarin
is
there?” asked Mackey.

“If it’s there, it’s going to be too heavy and dangerous to move. You’ll blow it in place.”

“Better be a long fuse,” said Chris.

“Roger that,” said Mackey. He looked at Dex on his screen. “So when do we go?”

“Tonight. We’ve got to move fast. We have our special operations folks putting together flight plans and coordinating aircraft, drones, and time tables. I know it doesn’t give you enough time to prepare…”

“It doesn’t give us
any
time to prepare!” snapped Chris.

“Give me three hours. You’ll have satellite images of the target, a head count, and all of the details. It’s not ideal. It’s what we have.”

“Understood,” replied Mackey. “We’ll be ready.” He stared at Cascaes.

Cascaes looked at Mackey and nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.”

Mackey pressed “end” and closed the laptop. He looked at Cascaes and raised his eyebrows.

“You caught the end of that. We’re in Saudi Arabia. We get pinched, and it’s a
difficult situation for the administration
. That means that Randall Hill is up their ass again. They’ll scrub the team and scatter us into the breeze.”

“Look on the bright side, Chris. We’ll probably all die from the Sarin,” said Mackey with a huge toothy grin.

Cascaes was in no joking mood. “We’re going to take them down, and then I’m going to personally shove that Sarin bomb up Hill’s ass.” He stood up, added, “sir”, and left.