The Team (9 page)

Chapter 22

Post Game

The Navy All Stars enjoyed hot showers in the prince’s locker room. It was nicer than most resorts in the world, and the men took their time with fancy soap and shampoo, steam showers and whirlpool baths.

Bathroom attendants brought them lemon-water and fruit platters to enjoy as they changed into their team sweat suits. Ninety minutes later, the fresh-looking crew followed Mackey to the bus, which brought them back to the prince’s palace located only a mile away. The team bus rumbled along a quarter-mile long private cobblestone driveway, lined with palm trees and statues. The men were in awe when the bus pulled up in front of the palace. It was surreal in its opulence, with architecture that was a cross between Arab mosque and Baroque, with endless statues and fountains.

The team was received outside the palace by a long line of servants and one of the prince’s wives. They were then escorted through a long marble hallway that was as fine in accoutrements as any five-star hotel or art museum. The men looked around in silent amazement at the paintings, statues, chandeliers, and furniture. The marble for the walls and floors had been imported from Italy and Africa and masterfully put together to from intricate designs. The grand ballroom, where they would be dining, was big enough to accommodate a hundred dinner guests at one long table. The table itself was mahogany with mother of pearl inlay and solid gold legs that had been hand engraved and adorned with gemstones. Everywhere the men looked, they stared in amazement.

Ernie P. and Smitty were now about to get to work. Each of them had multiple electronic listening devices in hidden pockets all over their clothes. The small devices had been designed by Langley’s techs to intercept wireless communications including all Wi-Fi, phone, and satellite communications that would occur inside the palace once they were operating. The only downside to these high-tech toys was that they needed to be inside the network they were bugging. It was for this reason only that they had asked for a rematch and planned on being in the palace after the game.

“Dude’s table is bigger than the apartment building where I grew up,” whispered Earl to Raul.

“Yeah, man, no shit. Probably more expensive, too. I was in a few palaces in Iraq during the war, but they were blown up and looted already. This shit’s off the hook, bro,” said Raul.

The three hours that followed were course after course of amazing gourmet food. It was mostly French food, with some local Middle Eastern favorites mixed in as well. The men ate like they were going to the electric chair. As they awaited desert, Smitty asked a waiter where the men’s room was. As he walked out of the dining room, he stopped at the prince’s chair at the head of the table.

“Excuse me, your eminence, but I was wondering, do you have a computer somewhere that I could use? I’d love to check in at home with a quick email. We just had a baby, and I’m missing my new son,” lied Smitty.

“You are Joe Smith, the infielder. You played very well today,” said the prince. “Of course, you may help yourself to a computer.” The prince snapped his fingers, and a servant quickly came to his side. The prince said a few words in Arabic, and the man motioned for Joe to follow him.

Smitty walked a long hallway to another room, were there was an ornate antique desk of carved and inlaid wood that cost more than Smitty’s apartment. The man pointed to a computer desktop and walked over, waking up the hibernating machine and keying in the password. He then opened a drawer and pulled out another keyboard, this one in English, and turned it on after he turned the first one off. The machine found the new keyboard, and they were all set. In broken English, the servant said, “I wait,” and walked outside the doorway.

Smitty slid a small sticky device, no bigger than a sunflower seed out of a plastic packet in his pocket. Figuring he was on close circuit TV, Smitty concealed his movement. He leaned forward like he was staring at the screen and reached under the desk above his knees. He moved his fingers around until he found a tiny opening were he pushed the device. He then quickly checked over his shoulder and made sure the servant was still outside. He began typing into a false email account that looked innocent enough with the name
mrsrachaelsmith
, and he opened up the email that had been left for him by the Langley techs. By opening the mail, he released a program into the machine that would be undetectable to any virus software. The program would infiltrate every computer on the network and would turn this machine into a wireless hunter that would also find every other machine within the palace and pull its data. The small seed in the desk would bug every phone and dish antennae. To keep up appearances, Smitty sat back and looked lovingly at a baby picture. He typed in big letters, “I love you and miss you both so much,” then sent the email. He closed up the server and left, thanking the servant and returning to dinner.

* * *

“I love you, too, Smitty,” said Kim Elton to her computer screen in Langley. She watched a tree open up on her screen that began showing computer after computer popping up on the prince’s network. Twenty-two machines, some of which were backup drives, were now wide open for review. Kim grabbed her phone. “Marty—you seeing this?” she asked one of her tech guru’s buried in another room.

“All over it, boss. Already copying every single piece of data. A couple of the servers have ten terabytes on them. We’ll have our own systems running this stuff all night. It’s a huge bingo. I’ve also got the history on every one of these—even the ones they think they erased. Give me a day or two and I’ll have his entire life story including financials for you.”

“Outstanding.” She hung up with him and called Eric Chow in another tech room. “Eric, you catching anything from the new target?”

“Hell, yeah. We’re five by five—clear as a bell. Recording multiple calls already. Everything will be run for hidden codes. Hey, if you’re interested, they have three televisions watching Al Jazeera and one watching porn, which I think is illegal in the Kingdom. They cut off your hand for stealing; what do they cut off for watching porn?” He laughed.

Kim returned the laugh. “Great job, Eric. Log and copy everything. Anything real weird pops up, you call me any time of day or night on my cell.”

“You mean like a goat showing up in the porn?”

“No, I said weird. I’m pretty sure goats and camels are fair game.” She hung up and called Dex.

“Boss. We’re in.”

Chapter 23

Al Udeid Air Base

The team drove by bus from the prince’s palace to their new home almost six hours away at Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar. With Doha coming up in the chatter on several occasions, it made more sense to stay there than in Riyadh. They could have arranged for a plane and a quick trip, but Mackey wanted everyone to see the terrain. Most of the drive was through dessert wasteland, with the occasional small village or smattering of farms that had irrigation systems.

“I changed my watch when we landed,” said Cascaes to Mackey. “But I don’t think I have the right century.”

Mackey looked at the line of men on camels off in the distance and nodded. “Sure doesn’t look like Iowa.”

Chris looked out at the wasteland. “Doesn’t look like
earth
. I’m guessing the crop dusting business isn’t real big out here.”

“Not so much. Besides, they have plenty of dust already.”

Moose was sitting in the seat across the aisle from them. “Why is it that the most lethal amphibious fighting force in the world is in the middle of a fucking dessert?” he asked. He added, “Sir.”

Mack laughed. “Because you go wherever the action is and you love it. If you need water to fight, I’ll sprinkle some on you.”

Moose gave him a thumbs up. “That’s us. Instant ass kicking fighting force, just add water to activate.”

The men eventually fell asleep as it grew dark. The bus rolled along for hours of highway. When they reached Qatar, the driver put on the lights inside the bus, and a Qatari border guard boarded the bus. Mackey spoke to him for a while, showed him his documents, and was allowed through the small border crossing.

They reached Al Udeid forty minutes later, a beacon of lights in the middle of more nothingness. With over ten thousand US military personal, it was a busy place. The Marine Tactical Electronic Warfare Squadron 3 was stationed there, and their EA-6B Prowlers were backed into bombproof hangers along the runway. A large sign read “Moon Dogs” with a motto underneath, “Not seeing is believing.” The Marine air element was tasked with conducting airborne electronic warfare, day or night, in all weather, to support the Marine Ground-Air Task Force. These days, they were flying missions in Afghanistan.

Earl Jones walked up the aisle and stood near Mackey and Cascaes. “Jarheads? Shit! You said airbase, I was thinking Air Force. Then I knew we’d have a nice hooch. This is a
Marine
Air Wing—we might as well sleep outside.”

“It won’t be so bad. The Qataris are happy to have us here. The accommodations will be just fine. Besides, I’m hoping we’ll be out working soon.”

Raul Santos, another Marine Recondo yelled from his seat. “No man, Earl’s hardcore. He needs to sleep outside. Keep him tough.”

Earl gave him the finger.

Raul looked at Eric, the only other Marine. “You see that, man? No respect.”

Earl looked back at Mackey. “Hey, skipper, what’s a Moon Dog?”

Mackey laughed. “Electronics warfare squadron. Just a nickname. The third squadron does electronic jamming. When you jarheads were humping around in A-Stan, the Prowlers were flying overhead knocking out all the cell phones so the hajjis couldn’t make a call and set off an IED. They also take out enemy radar and disrupt communications.”

Earl nodded and grumbled. “
Jar heads
. Food’s gonna suck.”

Eric was looking out the window. “This country is a shitty place for a sniper,” he mumbled, half to himself. He didn’t like any place that didn’t offer high ground with concealment. Wide open rolling wasteland could be used to hide, but it made for lousy line of sight.

Raul shook his head. “Friggin country boy—always looking for someplace to hide and whack somebody.”

Eric looked at him and shrugged.

* * *

The bus pulled up in front of a large building that looked like every other building. A Marine staff sergeant was there to greet them. On the side of the building was another sign. In big red letters, under the Marine Corps Globe and Anchor, was written:

WE STOLE THE EAGLE FROM THE AIR FORCE, THE ANCHOR FROM THE NAVY, AND THE ROPE FROM THE ARMY.

ON THE SEVENTH DAY WHILE GOD RESTED, WE OVERRAN HIS PERIMETER, STOLE THE GLOBE AND WE’VE BEEN RUNNING THE WHOLE SHOW EVER SINCE

The men piled out of the bus and stretched. They were still dressed in their white Navy All Star sweat suits, with the red and blue stars and stripes design. Mackey said hello to the staff sergeant, who offered to lead them down to their sleeping quarters. They had been given a wing upstairs on the second floor that was separated from the rest of the Marine detail housed there.

“General Gallo says your team gets the royal treatment. Whatever you need that we can supply is yours. You guys played the Saudis today?”

“Yeah. A prince out there, with his personal billion dollar stadium. He even brought in ringers from the states,” said Mackey.

The young Marine grimaced. “Didn’t go well, huh?”

“Fuck that. We kicked his ass,” said Mackey.

“Ooohhh Rrrraaaa!” replied the Marine with a fist bump. “Outstanding, sir. You need anything, pick up a phone and dial twenty-five. That’s either me or my staff. Whatever you need. Mess opens at oh-five hundred because of the early flyers. It’s two buildings over, the green door. Good night, sir.”

The team started checking out the rooms. They were typical nondescript quarters, with a bed, a small desk, one bureau, and a closet. They were new and spotless, and the men were too exhausted to complain. Within twenty minutes, all of them were fast asleep with orders not to wake the coach or face a firing squad.

Chapter 24

Al Hamaq

Rasheed and Jamal had driven from one small village to another. The first meeting was to switch from their own car to an oversized van that had two large suitcases of cash in the back. Unlike the first driver, these men knew exactly what they were transporting and would be part of the planned attack in the coming weeks. The first attempt had failed—they would not. Both men were armed with knives, Glock pistols, and AK47s.

They arrived at Al Hamaq at eight in the morning, after driving three hours through the dessert sunrise. It was a tiny village of forgotten stone houses and buildings. The buildings were made out of the same stone that surrounded the village, and everything was the same reddish-brown color as far as the eye could see. There were very few signs of life, and their large vehicle was the only thing in the village that wasn’t a thousand years old.

Twenty minutes after they arrived, three black SUVs pulled into the village and drove to the field where they had parked their van. One door opened and a man appeared in white robes and sunglasses.

“You have the money?” he asked bluntly.

The driver, Rasheed, said yes.

“You will follow us.”

The man ran back to his car and the truck tore off, kicking up dust. Rasheed took off after him, and the two other SUVs pulled up behind them. The four vehicles sped along Highway 10 until they reached a small turnoff that led to the farm where Tariq had met his fate.

The vehicles came to a stop by the small house, and men quickly emptied out of the SUVs with AK47s, rushing to Rasheed and Jamal, who instinctively grabbed their own weapons. After two minutes of excited screaming from every man in the courtyard, the outnumbered couriers placed their weapons on the ground. They were thoroughly searched, and their pistols and knives were taken from them, as well as their cell phones.

Two men grabbed the suitcases out of the back of the van, and the other two men were pushed along at gunpoint through the house to the rear courtyard where Abu Mohamed sat waiting. His face showed his displeasure at having been made to wait the extra two days for his fifty million dollars.

Abu looked at one of his men and motioned with his chin. The man opened the two large suitcases and looked inside. Bundles of American hundred dollar bills were packed like bricks inside each case. Fifty million dollars took up a lot of space. He nodded.

Abu Mohamed stood and walked around the table to the two nervous men. “You don’t work directly for the man responsible for making me wait and will not be held accountable. Come.”

Abu walked out of the courtyard and crossed a small field with the two men and a few bodyguards following close behind. They walked to a small barn and the men opened the door. Inside was the wooden crate that had taken a journey from Syria to Lebanon to Egypt to this small Saudi farm. Abu Mohamed didn’t know where it was headed and didn’t care. He knew the men’s association with Jihadist radicals and any target they chose would be fine with him.

Rasheed and Jamal walked to the crate and saw the crowbars laid on top of it. Abu nodded when they looked at him for permission. The two of them worked together carefully to remove the end of the crate, prying and pulling ever so gently. Together, they removed the wooden end, revealing a large aluminum bomb that sat strapped into a metal cart with hydraulic wheels. Heavy straps and chucks prevented the cart from moving, and the two men worked to remove the encumbrances. When the cart was free, they pulled it out. The special wheels made it possible for two men to move the seven hundred pounds. This same type of system was used to roll the munitions under a jet’s wing to be loaded for a bombing mission.

“I need to look inside,” said Rasheed nervously.

“Why? You don’t trust me?” asked Abu.

“Fifty million dollars is a lot of money. And I’m responsible for delivering the Sarin. I mean no disrespect.”

Abu pointed to a red metal box on the side of the barn. “There are tools there if you wish to open it.”

The two men walked over and pulled out screwdrivers, then returned to the large bomb. They carefully removed the twelve screws and then pulled off the plates on top of the deadly munition. Inside, a hundred round glass bomblets were stacked like grapes in a myriad of wires. The weapon had been designed to be dropped by plane, and then detonated above the enemy. The airburst would scatter the liquid into a fine spray mist which would kill in less than a few moments.

Jamal looked to Rasheed nervously. How could they know what they were looking at? “It looks like it, right?” he whispered to Rasheed.

Abu motioned to his men who were on the two immediately with their AK47s pushed into their chests. There were a few seconds of terrified confusion, and then Abu spoke.

“You say you mean no disrespect, and yet you keep me waiting three days for my money and have the nerve to question my integrity?” He barked orders at his men, who grabbed Jamal by the hair and pulled him to a post in the barn. They tied him against the pole so tightly he couldn’t move his arms or legs at all. Rasheed was held at gunpoint.

Abu barked a few more orders, and one of his men carefully pulled off one of the glass balls. The men all moved away from Jamal, who was now begging to be released with tears running down his cheeks. Abu walked out quickly while his bodyguards pulled Rasheed behind them. The last man out, the one holding the Sarin bomblet turned when he got to the door and threw it as hard as he could at Jamal’s chest. The glass shattered and sprayed him with the colorless, odorless liquid. Jamal’s face began blistering immediately.

Rasheed and Jamal were both screaming as the men raced out of the barn, slamming the door behind them. Jamal’s screaming went on for almost twenty seconds—a high pitched wail that pierced Rasheed’s heart. The screaming turned into a bubbly gurgle, and then went silent.

Abu walked to Rasheed and stood almost nose to nose with him. “In fifteen minutes, you can go inside and tell me if it was Sarin or water in that weapon. I suggest you wait the fifteen minutes. And then you have another fifteen to get that in your van and get out of my sight before I put you next to your friend.”