“We’re taking these guys,” Tom decided, extending the buttstock of his MP7. “This isn’t right.”
Jerry followed suit, advising CenCom they were going into action.
Without waiting for a reply, they stepped from cover with their weapons shouldered.
“Freeze!” Tom screamed at the top of his voice, moving rapidly forward. “Hands in the fucking air! Hands in the fucking air, assholes!”
Most of the men nearly jumped out of their skins at the report of his rabid voice, and their hands shot skyward.
Jerry quickly swept the upper levels with his eyes, moving forward and to the left of Tom so they could fire into the men from the standard L formation without anyone escaping and without the danger of hitting each other.
Only Jackal, and the two men with AK-47s, remained composed, their hands at their sides.
“I said, hands in the fucking air!” Tom screamed. “And don’t tell me you don’t fucking understand!”
The AK men slowly obeyed, but Jackal only smiled.
“What are you doing here?” he asked calmly, his dark eyes steady. “Are you trying to get your pilot killed? We don’t have time for this. You should not be here.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Tom demanded.
“We are dividing the money for transport through the city,” Jackal replied. “Do you expect us to transport it all in the same vehicle? That would be stupid.”
“Jerry, advise CenCom what we’ve got.”
Jerry began to describe their situation over the radio.
“May my men put their hands down now?” Jackal asked. “You’ve clearly scared them half to death.”
Tom took a glance at their faces. They did not look scared to him; they looked desperate. “They can keep their fucking hands up. Now take away those two AK-47s and place them on the ground — slowly!”
Jackal sighed and did as he was told, speaking calmly to the men in Pashto as he did so.
“Shut the fuck up!” Tom screamed. “Speak English or not at all!”
Jackal sighed again. “All I did was tell them to keep their hands up. We are wasting valuable time with this.”
Jerry was still talking quietly with CenCom, breaking the situation down for the boys back in Langley.
“How many of these men are Taliban or HIK?” Tom demanded.
“None of these men are Taliban or HIK,” Jackal replied. “This is their job. They work for me — for us. They are professional intermediaries. You need to leave. You endanger your pilot every moment that you are here.”
“Jerry?”
Jerry shrugged. “CenCom says Langley isn’t worried about what we’ve got. We can clear.”
“Are you satisfied now?” Jackal asked. “You should go. Let us do our jobs.”
“No, I’m not fucking satisfied,” Tom retorted. “Get your men lined up along the table with their hands behind their heads. We’re going to search these vehicles. And if I even think you’re trying to pull some shit in Pashto, you’re a fucking dead man.”
“Will you please talk to him?” Jackal said to Jerry. “He’s crazy. You’re going to get your pilot killed.”
Jerry kept his weapon trained on the group of men. “Tom, Langley wants us to clear.”
“Langley isn’t fucking here, Jerry, and Langley isn’t seeing what the fuck I’m seeing.”
“What are you seeing?” Jackal demanded, sounding agitated for the first time. “Tell me what you think you see!”
“A bunch of nervous motherfuckers!” Tom shouted. “Now line ’em the fuck up. Get ’em down on their goddamn knees with their hands behind their fucking heads. Now!”
“Of course they’re nervous,” Jackal said with an incredulous laugh. “You’re a crazy man with a gun!”
“Do it! Now!”
“Please!” Jackal said, almost pleading with Jerry. “Talk to your commanders. Get them to control this man. Your pilot is in grave danger because of this!”
Jerry could see it now, too. “He doesn’t want us searching the vehicles.”
“You bet your fucking ass he doesn’t.” Tom stepped toward Jackal and kicked him to the ground, aiming the gun down into his face and shrieking at the top of his voice, “I said line these fucking men up!”
“Okay!” Jackal shouted, his hands thrust up in front of him. “Okay. But you are making a terrible mistake. You’re in big trouble. I am an Afghan diplomat.”
“You’re a fucking bagman! Line ’em up!” He kicked Jackal in the ribs.
Jackal spoke quickly to the men, pointing, and they slowly began to form into a line.
Jerry was sweating bullets. If they ended up gunning these guys down, and it turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding, he and Tom would spend the rest of their lives in Leavenworth prison. “Tom, this isn’t good, man.”
“I know it,” Tom said over his shoulder, his eyes boring into Jackal’s. “But this fucking prick is lying.” He backed away from Jackal and started kicking the men in the backs of their knees, dropping them one at a time until the rest got the picture and got down into the dirt with their hands behind their heads. “Tell ’em to cross their legs.”
Jackal spoke to them from where he lay on his side in the dust, and they crossed their ankles.
At last satisfied the prisoners were sufficiently controlled, Tom stood back to cover them from behind, clearing Jerry to search the vehicles.
Jerry quickly searched the first two sedans and found nothing. He moved to the van and opened the side door, seeing at once a blood-soaked blanket wrapped around a lifeless form, a pair of female feet and ankles extending from the bottom. “Holy Jesus!” he said. “I got a body — a woman!”
“You don’t understand!” Jackal said, leaping to his feet.
One of the other men took his hands away from his head and reached for a pistol concealed beneath the front of his shirt. Tom blew him away with a burst of automatic fire, catching the men on either side of him as well. The rest of the prisoners in line dove forward into the dirt and covered their heads as Jackal spun and ran for the SUV. Tom cut him down before he’d gone three steps.
Jerry was in a crouch near the van, his weapon trained on the men now lying facedown in the dust pissing their pants. “We clear?”
Tom switched out the magazine. “Clear!”
Jerry stood up and climbed into the van. He could see a matted mop of bloody brown hair protruding from the blanket. He pulled the cover away. “The cocksuckers beat her to death.”
Tom marched forward and started kicking the men. “Who speaks fucking English here? Nobody, huh? Okay, motherfuckers, time to die!”
A hand shot up. “I English bad!”
“You English bad? On your fucking feet, Bad English.”
The skinny young man got up trembling. The front of his pants were soaked with piss.
“Who killed her?”
The young man did not hesitate to point out two other men still lying facedown with their fingers laced over the backs of their heads.
Tom stalked over to see their knuckles were covered with fresh abrasions. He kicked them each in the rib cage with all the force he could muster. “This is just the fucking beginning.”
Jerry closed the blanket and got out of the van. “CenCom, be advised, the principal is DOA. Repeat. Principal is DOA. Looks like it’s been about twelve hours. Also, be advised that Jackal is KIA. We are requesting CID and enough security to deal with sixteen male prisoners.” He listened patiently to the reply, smirking with disgust before making his response. “Roger, CenCom. All funds are secure.”
CHAPTER 19
Gil had some tough choices to make, tough choices to go along with the tough choice that had been forced upon him. Navy SEALs were not murderers, they were warriors, and they did not enter into combat with the intention of making war on women or children who did not make war on them. Collateral damage happened, and it was always unfortunate, but it was never a SEAL’s intention to end the life of a noncombatant. Most did not allow it to bother them when it happened — at least not on the surface. They told themselves that it was war, that they were fighting for their country, and that God would sort it all out. How else could they live with the things they saw?