Ayman gave his friend a look. Nasih was much wiser than he and he admired that.
“Meet me here in two days. Then we will talk of this again.”
Two days later they met in the same room and again shared a meal. Nasih provided his plan to Ayman. It was carried out that night.
The whole attack was over before any anyone was able to react. Upon hearing the report of what happened, Nasih was extremely pleased. It was clear by the performance of the man who was both his subordinate and friend that he had not lost his touch.
As expected, a little plastic explosive on the lock and the door opened easily. Most of the soldiers at the airport did not hear the report of the lock coming apart. Those that did looked in the direction of the sound. When another did not follow it immediately, they assumed it was a car backfiring or an accidental weapons discharge.
Only the guards at the entrance to the magazine road reacted. The senior of the two, a corporal, saved both their lives by taking a moment to radio the compound for assistance. In the time it took to wake up someone with the authority to send out EOD and reinforcements to investigate, the door was opened and quickly the contents of three satchels of explosives were delicately and precisely placed in the factory.
Everyone at Tirane International Airport, civilians and military alike, woke at the second detonation.
Ayman walked back toward the camp. By the time he reached the flightline, hundreds of people were awake and looking toward the magazines. His greatest concern was that some young soldier, still half asleep would accidentally snap a round off at him.
Nobody noticed as he stepped over his moped, turned it over, and drove away.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ironhorse was among the first to arrive. He parked the HUMMER, pointing the headlights at the front of the magazine to illuminate the scene.
“Fuck. Johnny, get on the horn and tell the bubbas back at the compound we gotta do this one by the numbers.”
“How come, Benny?”
“Look at the door. If this were an accident, it would be bent or blown off its hinges. It was opened. See where the lock was? It is charred black. Somebody busted in there. The place could be booby trapped again.”
Four hours later Benny, fully dressed in a bomb suit, emerged from the magazine. Henderson and his OIC were waiting down the road behind Benny’s vehicle. As he walked toward them he took off the helmet and started slipping off the Kevlar bib.
“Anything left?” asked Henderson.
“Nothing, sir,” replied Benny.
“Nothing at all?” repeated his captain incredulously. “Not even some snotted plastic explosive?”
“No, sir. They knew exactly what they were doing. It’s all gone.”
“Well, I’ll send my forensics team in now to collect evidence.”
“You don’t understand,” said Benny. “There ain’t no evidence to be had in there.”
A forensics team arrived twelve hours later from Rome. They brought twelve men, all in blue coveralls, boots, and dark blue jackets that read “FBI AGENT” in bright yellow on the back.
Pucharelli directed them through the task. Ironhorse’s notion was correct, so their work was short and simple. They took a lot of photos and tried to find traces of chemical residue or fingerprints. While his team cleaned and stowed their equipment, Pucharelli stood outside the magazine and dialed a number on his satellite phone.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation, San Antonio Office, Agent Cruz speaking, may I help you?”
“Very formal. I like that.”
“Pooch?”
“Yep. Is this a secure line?”
“Yes it is.”
“Well, then guess where I am, Elena.”
“Uh, Albania?”
“Yes. I’m actually here ahead of schedule. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“We had a detonation here last night. Everything is destroyed.”
It took a moment for the full implication of what he said to sink in with Elena.
“Everything?”
“I’m here with a forensics team. We are looking for fingerprints and chemical residue.”
“Damn it!”
“I talked with the OSI guy. Guess what he said? Jascinski was a troublemaker. He remembered him well. The guy said that Jascinski fucked up on a couple of missions. Seems he was in charge of security and allowed the birds to land in some hostile situations.”
“Holy shit, I cannot believe this is really happening. Do you realize where we are going with this?”
“I know precisely where we are going. We gotta bring him in, Elena, but I don’t know how to get him away from the Navy.”
“I do. In fact this will be perfect. He reported this stuff to OSI. Now it is gone. He is the only reliable material witness. We utilized him before on the San Patricio job; we’ll use him on this one. We must formally request that Lieutenant Jascinski and Petty Officer Ball be flown to TECHDIV to help us with our investigation. They will be questioned in an effort to link these three cases; San Pat, SECSTATE, and Albania.”
“I like it.”
“It will be like music. If he is involved, eventually this guy will screw up and reveal something to us. Then he becomes a true suspect. If this is just a coincidence, he will be an expert witness.”
“Brilliant.”
“I’ll send out the request for them today. I suggest you pack your bags for DC. I’ll see you there in…”
“Two days. I can be there in two days.”
“Fine. See you then.”
Elena felt flushed as she put the phone down.
The birds woke him. He lay with his eyes closed and listened. Gabriel imagined that they were talking to each other about him.
He opened his eyes and looked at his watch. It was just 6:00 am, yet he felt completely rested. In his childhood he always had the most restful nights of sleep while camping. Gabriel believed that it came from a primal sense of home.
A quick zip and he was out of his sleeping bag. He moved to the front of the tent and opened the small screen door. Outside were his boots. He put one foot, then the other out of the tent opening and covered each with a boot. Then he slid out and pulled his backpack out with him.
The burner and coffee were in the outer pouch on the left. While the water was heating he struck down his tent and folded it up.
It was his third day on the trail. If all went well, he would be sleeping in a no-tell motel by sundown.
The feds did not know where he was, Gabriel was now sure of that. Periodically as he walked, Gabriel would stop and move ten yards off the trail and hide. There he would sit for an hour or two to see if someone was following him. He listened for helicopters that may be trailing him. From time to time he observed other campers and hikers on the trail, but he never saw anyone twice.
Since he detected nothing Gabriel determined that if someone was following him now, they were military trained and he would never see them.
The next step was to move into a nondescript hotel, continue to grow out his beard, and wait some more. Hopefully his friends in Texas would be able to help him.
There would be time to think.
Each morning as he sipped his coffee he thought of Nasih. It was almost becoming his personal version of daily prayer. Moving to the woods was Nasih’s idea.
“Move to the land. Disappear in the desert or the forest. Following you then becomes a significant problem. Most governments of the world cannot mobilize the sophisticated means to follow you in such a short time.
“In the city everyone is potentially government, every camera is used against you. While on the land their logistics become difficult. You can physically hide while observing them as they follow you. Vehicles and aircraft are easily identified.