Anyway, the A-team was all assembled, so we used the opportunity for a quick meeting before we got back on the road.
Buck informed us, “I’ve reported the incident to the embassy by sat-phone, and they have relayed my report to Washington.” He added, “The State Department will notify the Yemeni government. But we are not admitting to any unauthorized use of Hellfire missiles.”
I pointed out, “I don’t think rifle fire can cause that kind of damage, Buck.”
It was Mr. Brenner who replied. “Small-arms fire can detonate roadside bombs and fuel tanks.” He added, “The Yemenis don’t have the sophisticated forensics to determine otherwise.”
Right. Whatever.
Kate then said, “Howard may want to report this as it happened.”
Buck said to Kate, “Tell him I’d like a word with him.”
Kate nodded and left.
Buck explained to me and Brenner, “It’s important that there are no conflicting accounts of what happened.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Especially true accounts.”
Buck further explained, “We were the victims of an apparent Al Qaeda attack. We don’t want to be seen as aggressors or provocateurs.” Buck also informed us, “There are certain groups in the States who are not in favor of our Hellfire assassination program.” He added, “This incident, if it became public, could be misinterpreted as offensive rather than defensive.”
Right. We don’t want to upset human rights groups in the States with our HAPPY program-Hellfire Assassination Program to Pacify Yemen. I made that up.
Buck also said, “It is important that we four are not declared persona non grata and asked to leave Yemen.”
I agreed, but pointed out, “If it wasn’t for the Hellfires, we’d all be declared persona non breathing.”
Buck ignored that and continued, “This attack, along with the Hunt Oil attack, will cause Washington to re-evaluate our military mission in Yemen.” He added, “Just as the Cole did.”
Right. So, bottom line here, you sometimes need an attack to get things going your way. The Alamo, the Maine, Pearl Harbor, the Gulf of Tonkin, the USS Cole, and so forth. Sometimes the attack is an unprovoked surprise, and sometimes it isn’t.
Howard appeared from the hut, spotted the trench, and used it. He then said to me, “I don’t know how I can ever repay you for inviting me along.”
“I’ll think of something.”
Buck had already thought of something and said to Howard, “This is a national security matter, Howard, and a sensitive diplomatic matter at the highest level.” He added, “Please do not say anything to anyone that would jeopardize this mission.”
Or we’ll kill you.
Howard, practicing not saying anything to anyone, just nodded, then left.
We all assembled in front of the station. The Land Cruisers were topped off, the windshields were cleaned of mortal remains, and we got in our vehicles. Gentlemen, start your engines. And off we went, southeast toward Aden.
Brenner transmitted, “Predators still on station until we reach our destination.” He added, “Two new Predators with Hellfires on the way.”
Great. So, what did we learn from our drive in the country? Well, we learned that Al Qaeda knew of our trip to Aden-but that was almost a given. We learned, too, that Al Qaeda was willing and able to attack an armored American convoy. They were getting their act together. What Al Qaeda didn’t know, however, or didn’t expect, was Hellfire missiles-and that was because the Yemeni government idiots usually said no to Hellfires. But we solved that problem by not asking. This was a new game.
What we didn’t know was if Al Qaeda knew that Mr. John Corey was in the convoy. But we could assume they did. In fact, Al Qaeda knew that John Corey and Kate Mayfield would be in Yemen before we knew we were going. What we didn’t know was if The Panther was now in Paradise, or in Marib, or someplace else. Wherever he was, he was pissed.
Good. I was pissed, too.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The convoy continued on toward Aden.
Mike informed Clare and me, “The farther south we go, the less Al Qaeda is present.”
“Good.”
“But Al Qaeda is strong again around Aden.”
“Bad.”
“Also, when we cross into what used to be South Yemen, you have secessionist rebels.”
Clare asked Mike, “Is there any part of this country that’s… like, safe?”
“Not one square inch.”
You’re safe with me, sweetheart.
She said, “At least we can feel safe in the hotel.”
Uh… about that hotel, Clare…
We were on the downslope from the central highlands and making good time toward the coastal plains despite the traffic on the well-traveled Ta’iz-Aden road.
Mike said, “About a hundred K to Aden.”
Brenner’s voice came over the radio. “New Predators with Hellfires on station. No suspicious roadside activity ahead. But stay alert for suicide vehicles.”
The fun never stops.
Mike informed us, “The Predators can keep flying for up to twenty-four hours without refueling.”
Correct. And the pilot was on the ground, and he could hand off the controls every few hours. The Predator drone with Hellfire missiles was an awesome weapon system. This was probably how we’d bag The Panther, if we hadn’t already vaporized him back in the hills. American military technology is a beautiful thing-unless you’re on the receiving end.
I asked Mike, “Where are the Predators stationed? And where are the ground control units?”
He replied, “No one knows. But I’d guess Oman, or Saudi Arabia. Or maybe Djibouti across the strait.”
“So not here?”
“Not in this screwed-up country.”
“Right.”
It was almost 1 P.M., and we’d made okay time considering we took the old caravan route, though I hadn’t seen a single camel. The ambush hadn’t actually delayed us-in fact, it sort of moved things along. Nothing like getting shot at to get your ass moving.
We intersected the new highway that came from Sana’a and headed due south toward Aden. It was a good road, and if we’d taken it, I wonder if we’d have had the same exciting experience we had on the caravan route. I was fairly sure that it was the Predator controller who advised us to take that route. In the end, the CIA-who had operational control of the Predators-got what they wanted: a show of American force, dead bad guys, and an incident.
I asked Mike, “Will you guys be able to get back to Sana’a before dark?”
“Maybe… We’ll see what Brenner wants us to do.”
I used that opening to fish. “He seems like a good guy.”
Mike replied, “He’s good.” Silence. “But he pushes his luck sometimes.”
Which meant pushing everyone else’s luck. Maybe he had nothing to live for. But maybe he’d just found a new interest in life. I said to Mike, “He told me he had a lady in the States.”
“Yeah. She was here once.” He let me know, “A real knockout.”
“So no embassy romance?”
Mike realized he was saying too much about his boss and replied, “Not that I know of.” He added, “Slim pickings here.”
Clare piped in, “I beg your pardon.”
That got a laugh.
Clare also offered, “I think he’s cute.” She added, “But a little old for me.”
What? He couldn’t be five years older than me. I’m crushed. I wish I had died in the Al Qaeda ambush.
We were on the coastal plain now, and up ahead I spotted a road sign, one of the few I’d seen in the last four hundred kilometers, and I focused the binoculars on it. It said something in Arabic, but beneath that it said ADAN-with an A-GOVERNATE.
Mike said, “We are crossing into the former South Yemen, also once known as Adan.” He added, “It’s almost like another country in some ways.”
Actually, it was once. But I said, “Looks like the same crap hole to me.”
“Different attitudes here. A little more modern, maybe because of the British influence, then the Soviets, and all the ships coming into Aden Harbor from around the world.”