"Hey there, Khalil!" Sikes called out. "Wot the bluddy hell are you doing here?"
Khalil Farouk showed a smile of genuine pleasure at the sight of his English friend. He waved and hurried over. "Arsalaan! It gives me much pleasure to look upon you again." They embraced in the manner of Islamic males. "You are looking most soldierly, my friend."
"I been doing more'n just a bit o' soljering, you can believe that," Sikes said. He gestured to the crowd of young Arab men.
"Are them the poor buggers wot's gonna blow themselves up then?"
Farouk nodded. "Yes. It was deemed necessary that drastic steps be taken to loosen the Americans' grip on this area."
"I ain't very pleased with this, Khalil," Sikes said glumly, giving the volunteer suicide bombers a somber gaze. "Most o' them blokes look like they ain't got the sense to come in out o' the bluddy rain."
"You must look upon this with cold logic, Arsalaan," Farouk said. "Their deaths will be a great help to our cause and will save having trained soldiers killed."
"Well," Sikes conceded, "I suppose you're right, but I ain't too keen on it; not by a long shot."
The helicopters revved up and climbed back into the sky, the rotors kicking up clouds of blinding, stinging dust that swept over the scene, causing everyone to duck and turn away. When the disturbance dissipated, Khalil looked up at the mountain next to the LZ. "I see no fortress, Arsalaan."
"Oh, it's there, don't you worry none about that," Sikes replied. He looked around, then barked at his warrant officer. "Mr. Hashiri! Get over there and get them blowsy bastards organized! And detail a few of 'em to carry that gear with 'em." Just as Hashiri trotted off to take care of the task, the Brit added, "And be careful of them bundles. They're bluddy bombs!"
Hashiri organized the crowd of Arabs into a reasonable semblance of orderliness and got them to pick up everything they had brought with them. When he was satisfied they were under control, he led them off the LZ toward the ingress that would give them access to the interior of the fortified mountain.
Sikes Pasha and his friend Khalil Farouk followed, renewing their friendship with animated conversation.
.
STATION BRAVO, BAHRAIN
BARRI PRISON
26 JULY 1320 HOURS
PO2C Mike Assad and the CIA operative Fred Leighton were not in the main building of the prison. The two had just entered a small cell block under the escort of a taciturn guard. The lockup was a square cement structure with three rows of cells that were connected by short hallways. No windows offered outside views or natural illumination for the foreboding interior of the structure. The lights in the ceiling were extremely bright, giving the place an aura of brilliant, stark hopelessness. And that was exactly the intent of the architects who designed the place.
When the trio reached the end of the first hallway, they halted. The guard turned to a steel door, pausing only long enough to open a viewing port. After a quick glance, he inserted a key into the heavy portal and pulled it open. Mike and Leighton stepped inside. A single prisoner sat on his bunk, looking at them. He wore an orange jumpsuit in the stark atmosphere of his cell, and he was listless to the point of appearing to have no interest in his surroundings.
Leighton, turning to the SEAL, pointed at the inmate. "Do you know this guy?"
Mike, his BDUs still smelling of wood smoke and sweat after his quick departure from the SEAL base camp, walked in front of the man and looked down at him. "Yeah. I know him. I'm not sure of his first name, but his last is Allawi."
Sergeant Arjumand Allawi studied his visitor for a moment, noting he was an Arab-American. Then he shrugged. "I never saw this guy before in my life."
"Nobody's asking you questions about our guest, Allawi," Leighton said. He turned his attention to Mike. "Where do you know him from?"
"Buffalo, New York," Mike said. "The Ninji-min-Islam mosque."
Allawi sneered. "You was never there."
Mike, in accordance with previous instructions from Leighton, remained silent, stepping back toward the cell door.
Leighton walked to a point in front of Allawi, standing with his feet apart and arms crossed over his chest. "This man with me is a SEAL in the United States Navy, Allawi."
"Whoopee," Allawi said sarcastically.
"He was undercover at that mosque as an operative," Leighton said. "He took all the classes of indoctrination and showed the right attitude. When they figured he was ready, he was shipped off to Pakistan to join the al-Mimkhalif terrorist group." He paused. "I should have said the defunct al-Mimkhalif terrorist group."
Allawi glanced at Mike again. "I still don't know him."
"Let's not say you don't know him," Leighton said. "Let's say you don't remember him or maybe you don't recognize him. But he knows you, and that's what's important."
Allawi shrugged. "He's bullshitting you, Leighton."
Leighton glanced over at Mike. "Tell us what you recall about the prisoner here, Petty Officer Assad."
"When the other guys in my group and I first arrived at the mosque to get with the terrorist program, he gave us an indoctrination and explained the setup," Mike said. "He also taught a couple of classes on the Arabic language and alphabet."
"Sure," Allawi said. "I gave classes on Arabic because there were lots of guys who had been born in America. Some of 'em were second-and third-generation and hadn't been exposed much to written Arabic. The mullahs taught religious stuff because some of the guys hadn't had much of an Islamic environment in their homes. Hell, there's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's called going back to your roots; very hip and trendy."
Mike said, "What I recall most vividly about this guy is that he was the organizer of a program to get some of the students to enlist in the reserve components of the armed forces. I'm talking about the National Guard, reserves, and outfits like that to get military training, and learn the SOPs of the various units. He led the way when he joined the Army Reserves. They made a big deal out of it at the mosque."
"See?" Allawi said. "I was a patriot and wanted to serve my country."
"Bullshit," Mike said. "I remember your hate-America talks and all that death-to-the-infidels crap you preached."
"I'm not talking to you two fucking guys anymore," Allawi said.
Leighton walked over and banged on the door. When it opened he motioned Mike to follow him out into the hall. Mike walked over to the exit, then turned and looked back at Allawi.
Dude, you are so compromised.
.
OVAL OFFICE WHITE HOUSE
28 JULY 1430 HOURS
WHEN Liam Bentley walked into the Oval Office he was surprised to see not only the President standing at the front of the desk, but also the woman and two men sitting in nearby chairs, like it was a casual visit among neighbors. The Chief Executive stepped toward the visitor with his hand extended. "Welcome to the Oval Office, Mr. Bentley."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Bentley said, holding on to his briefcase as he shook hands.
"This is somewhat of a historical moment," the President said. "The newly created post of FBI White House Liaison Officer goes into effect at this time and date. This is something entirely fresh and innovative."
"Yes, sir," Bentley said. "I'm honored to be the first."
"Let me introduce you to my White House chief of staff, Ms. Arlene Entienne; the press secretary, Owen Peckham; and Colonel John Turnbull of the Special Operations Liaison Staff." He chuckled. "We seem to have our full share of liaison today."