“Sir, what good will this do?” said Mitchell.
“My friend said that Mister Satomi has information regarding his daughter, and that he will only divulge it to Ryan, and I want that information.”
Jackson turned to look at Mitchell. “So you’ll be a day or so behind us. That’s no problem. We’ll have it all figured out for you, so you can take all the credit for the mission when you arrive.”
For a minute, Mitchell seriously debated disobeying O’Reilly and heading to Mongolia with Jackson. He knew that Jackson was right, it would take at least a day or two to figure out a successful way in and out of the complex; he just hated not being on the ground with his compatriots from the beginning to the end of the operation. Seeing the firm look in his mentor’s eyes, Mitchell knew that he had to do as he was told, no matter how much it galled him.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Mitchell looked over at O’Reilly and said, “When do I fly?”
“You’re booked on United; it’s a non-stop flight. You leave later tonight. Tammy will be able to brief you on all your travel arrangements after this meeting. Same goes for you, Nate.”
With that, O’Reilly stood, as did everyone else in the room. “Gents, do what you must, I want my people brought home alive.”
The message was clear. The normal rules of engagement had just been thrown out the window.
A second later, O’Reilly left the room, trailed by Donaldson.
A scowl crept across Mitchell’s face as he looked over at Jackson. “Just what do you mean when you said I’d show up just in time to take the credit?”
“Hey, you’re an ex-officer, it’s what you’re good at,” said Jackson with a smile on his face.
“Come on, let’s see what Tammy has for us,” said Mitchell, shaking his head at his friend’s last remark.
“You know, Ryan, I don’t know why you antagonized the boss like that. After you tell Jen that you’re leaving later tonight, you’ll only have me left in your ever-shrinking circle of people who aren’t pissed off at you.”
Mitchell groaned. Jackson was right. He was supposed to take Jen out for dinner tonight. As he walked, his mind switched into high gear, wondering how he was going to break the bad news while still staying in Jen’s good books.
19
The irritating buzzing noise coming from one of the fluorescent light bulbs flickering on and off in the poorly lit room was beginning to grate on Sam’s nerves. They had been held in the same room for close to three days. Aside from regular meals provided for them by their Mongolian guards, Sam and Cardinal had not seen nor spoken to anyone since their capture in the desert. In their spartan room were two old army-issue cots, a rickety wooden table with two folding chairs, and a small toilet with a stainless steel sink in the corner.
Blindfolded before being brought inside the complex, they were helped into an elevator that descended several floors beneath the surface. It was hard to judge, but Cardinal was certain that they had gone down at least a dozen floors. First, they were taken to a long room that looked as if it hadn’t been used in decades. Dust covered everything. A yellowing poster on the wall showed Karl Marx urging Mongolia to aid the USSR in defeating the Imperialist Japanese. Ordered by their guards to strip down, they were taken to another room down the empty hallway where they were told to take a shower. Sam cursed and swore away as the water coming out of the pipes was the color of rust and freezing cold. When they came out of the shower, they found that all of their clothes were gone and that ill-fitting and uncomfortable dull-gray coveralls and sandals had been left for them to change into.
Cardinal lay on his cot with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I wonder what they will bring for supper tonight.”
“You can be assured that it will either be pork or yak spiced up until it is too hot to eat, with a generous helping of rice,” said Sam as she paced the room. Unlike Cardinal, who could relax anywhere, she was used to being active. Being cooped up in their room was driving her to distraction. She could only walk so much before she felt like screaming at the door for someone to let her out.
“Sam, you should really sit down. You’re going to wear your cheap plastic sandals out, and I doubt that there is a nearby store for you to buy some more.”
“I can’t! If we don’t get out of here soon, I’m thinking of tunneling our way out of here to the surface.”
“Good luck with that.”
Sam stopped her pacing and turned to look over at Cardinal. “How can you lay there so calmly? I don’t have a good feeling about what is going on. Why hasn’t someone come to interrogate us? I don’t relish the idea of being held here indefinitely.”
Cardinal sat up. “Sam, my love, both of us pacing back and forth like caged animals won’t help. Like you, I don’t like the idea of being stuck down here in this room any more than you do, but there is nothing we can do about it. I am sure that General O’Reilly is already badgering the State Department to have us released. It is only a matter of time before we are on our way back home.”
Sam pulled out a chair and then begrudgingly sat down. “I hope you’re right. I don’t think I can take another day down here.”
The sound of voices talking just outside their door made Sam and Cardinal turn their heads and look at the door. A key was inserted in the lock. A second later, the door was pushed open. Standing in the doorway was a short, broad-chested Mongolian guard wearing a couple of military-style gold stars on the collar of his dark gray uniform. Behind him were two more guards, their hands wrapped firmly around their AK-47s.
“You… you come with me,” said the officer in halting English.
Sam saw the serious expressions on the guards’ faces and grew nervous. Until now, all she had wanted was the door to be opened so she could leave the room; now she wasn’t so sure.
Cardinal took Sam’s hand and together they stepped out into the hallway. Falling into line behind the short officer, they walked in silence until they came to the elevator. The thought of trying an escape flashed into Cardinal’s mind as they waited for the elevator doors to open. He didn’t doubt that between him and Sam that they could overpower their guards before they knew what was happening. The problem was that he had no idea where they were or how many armed guards there were between them and freedom. He decided to wait until another opportunity presented itself and squeezed Sam’s hand when the doors to the elevator slid open. He looked over at the buttons beside the elevator doors, saw that they were in Cyrillic, and numbered fifteen floors. They were deeper in the bowels of the earth than he had originally thought.
A minute later, they stopped on the third floor. Following their guards, they made their way down a brightly lit hallway. They stopped outside of a closed door. The short officer knocked on the door.
A voice called out in English.
The door opened. Right away, Sam and Cardinal were pushed inside the room by their guards.
Resisting the urge to swing about and clobber their guards, Sam took a breath and looked around. She was surprised to see how clean and modern the room looked compared to their cell. Several wall-mounted TVs were on, showing the latest news and stock market results from all around the globe. In the middle of the room were two dark green leather seats that faced a long wooden desk made from teak. Sitting quietly behind the desk was a man dressed in a smart-looking, light-gray suit with a matching shirt and black silk tie. He had short blond hair with a sickly pale complexion on his narrow face. Lying on the table were Cardinal and Sam’s 9mm pistols. Looking at the man, Sam guessed that he was in his mid-thirties. His ice-blue eyes fixed on Sam and then Cardinal, as if studying them like a shark before devouring its prey.