Abdullah smiled. “His cousin was very brave to do what he did.”
Carlos glared at him. “Where we from, cousins means something. You understand?”
Abdullah nodded. “I understand.” He got on the cart and the little man flipped the lever and the electric motors hummed as the cart sped down the track, leaving Nogales, Mexico behind and entering Nogales, Arizona.
The other end of the tunnel emptied into a small cinder-block room. The little man grinned at him and pointed up, then pointed back down the tunnel. Abdullah waited as the little man hummed off into the distance and soon returned with Manny.
Manny grunted and Abdullah followed him up an aluminum stepladder and into a darkened warehouse. A fat man greeted them and Manny smiled. “Sup, Julio?”
“Sorry about your cuz,” Julio said. “This him?”
“Yeah. Is it ready?”
Julio pointed to the dark blue Ford Taurus in the first bay. “Got a full tank of gas.” He handed Manny a set of keys.
They got in the car and Julio opened the rolling metal door. Manny slowly pulled out, glancing in both directions, then turned the corner and headed for I82, out of Nogales toward Dallas.
“We’ve got something,” Karen said. “Chatter among the Jihadist websites.”
Everyone but John was in the briefing room. Karen, between chugging vast quantities of coffee, was excitedly showing how she had found the images that might lead them to Abdullah. Nancy, Deion and Clark watched the explanation, Clark without comment and Deion with the occasional eye-roll and blank expression. Nancy sat ramrod straight, her face hard.
Eric’s pulse sped up as he pointed to the wall display. “Show me.”
Karen clicked over the decrypted images. “These are instructions to the Mujahideen. It looks like they’re providing an escort across the Pak border into Afghanistan. The US has stepped up patrols in the south, so it’s probably going to be near Jalalabad.”
Eric turned to Deion. “The ISI?”
“Yeah,” Deion said. “That’s no man’s land. Real rugged area. The tribes go back thousands of years, they don’t trust outsiders. The only way the ISI operates is because the tribes allow it. They’ve either got sympathizers or tribesmen in positions to stop any kind of reform.”
“Yeah, I’ve had some operations in the area, we couldn’t prove they were helping the Taliban, but we suspected. The CIA have any contacts we can exploit?”
Deion shook his head. “Nah. The government doesn’t know shit and they don’t want to know. Plausible deniability.”
“Can you get a team in?” Clark asked.
“Not likely,” Eric said. “What about on the Afghan side?”
“Not without involving the CIA,” Deion said. “What about you? You said you did some operations up there. You still have any of those contacts?”
Eric thought about that. Yeah, there were a few that might talk to him. Maybe. “This is the first solid lead we’ve had. I’ll head to Afghanistan with John and see what I can dig up.”
They filed out of the room, but Nancy held him back.
“I want to go,” she said, her arms crossed.
“No. I need you and Deion here. We still have the missing caesium, remember? We can’t spread ourselves too thin.”
Her face was red, but she avoided his gaze. “You can trust me.”
He sighed. “It’s not a matter of trust. You’re a woman. That would be a problem where I’m going. Don’t read anything into it.”
She grabbed him, her hand clenching his shoulder. “I said you can trust me.”
He spoke slowly. “It’s nothing personal, Nancy. I mean that. If I thought you couldn’t handle it, I’d tell you. Do you believe me?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry about what happened in Afghanistan. I want you to trust me, to count on me.”
He took her hand from his shoulder and clasped it tightly in his. “Help Deion. Find that caesium. That’s all I ask.”
They made the flight in record time. Greg Clayberg had pushed the Gulfstream to its limit, and they left him on the tarmac to turn the plane while they prepared for the chopper flight outbound to the mountains.
Eric heard the booming voice behind him. “Shit. Is that Wise I see?”
He turned and smiled. “Good to see you, Redman.” He embraced the dark-haired Operator in a fierce bear-hug.
Bill ‘Redman’ Barton was a solidly built Georgian and Eric liked and respected the man. Redman was one of the best Operators he ever worked with, and he could count on him no matter what the mission.
Redman glanced over at John, awkwardly watching their reunion. “Who’s this?”
John stuck out his hand. “John Frist. I’m with him.”
Redman glared at him. “Is that so?” He broke into a big grin. “Hope you do better than your other friend.”
Eric laughed. “Thanks. You really came through for Deion.”
Redman joined in Eric’s hearty laughter. “Anything for you, brother.” He leaned in closer. “Look, I don’t know what happened after you got burned, but you’re up to something. I can smell it. You need help?”
Eric considered his offer, then nodded. “Actually, yeah. I could use some backup, somebody I can count on.”
John gave him an odd look, then walked away.
“What’s his problem?” Redman asked.
I’m wondering the same thing. “No idea. I’ll talk to him before we leave. Look, the thing I’m doing now, it’s beyond classified. You choose to go, it never happened, understand?”
Redman’s eyes widened. “What have you gotten yourself in to, Steeljaw?”
Eric grabbed his hand. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, brother.” He gave Redman a quick breakdown of the mission and Redman left to requisition the needed gear. He tracked down John and found him standing near an aircraft hangar door, watching flights take off.
He stood with him, roasting in the heat, the stench of JP-8 heavy in the air. “Nervous?”
John shrugged. “No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m sick of this,” John said. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
What the hell? It was the last thing he expected to hear. “What are you talking about? Is it about what happened in Denver? The men you killed?”
“It’s not Denver,” John said, shaking his head.
“Germany? Everyone hesitates. Even me. You can’t blame yourself.”
“It’s not that, either,” John said, “it’s everything. It’s too much.”
We don’t have time for this. “Pull yourself together. We’ve got a mission. We’ve got to find Abdullah and make him pay.”
“Pay? How are we going to do that? Throw him in a hole somewhere? Torture him? Or are we just going to put a bullet in his head? We are not above the law.”
“Sometimes we are. We’re the good guys.”
John watched him with hollow eyes. “We are?”
Eric’s temper flared. “Knock this shit off. We’re flying out soon. Get your head right. If Abdullah escapes, if he kills any more people, those deaths are on us. You get that? They’re on us.”
John nodded slowly. “I got it. It’s on us.” He turned and headed for their chopper.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Blackhawk banked hard and John leaned into the turn as they rounded the mountainside, navigating through the terrain toward the Pakistan border, on their way to Tora Bora.
He watched as Eric and Redman checked their gear, the easy way they worked together. He could tell Eric worried about him, but he wondered what Eric would do if he knew the truth. A bullet to the head, perhaps. Or maybe Eric would just open the door of the Blackhawk and throw him out.