Clare continued, “I’ve never been so frightened in my life. But John-and Mike-were totally cool and calm, and John made sure I stayed below the windows.”
“And,” I added, “I covered her with my body.” No, I didn’t say that. I’m not that brave.
Kate had no comment.
Brenner was finished at the front desk, and he came up to us and handed out key cards in envelopes with our room numbers on them. Brenner had remembered to put me in the same room as my wife, so I think he was over Kate.
Brenner suggested, “Let’s meet our Aden colleagues.”
I asked him, “Where is our Company man?”
“I don’t know.”
Okay. But if I had to guess, I’d say our missing teammate was in the commo room speaking by radio to his station chief in Sana’a, asking if there was any intel about the Hellfires vaporizing The Panther. Wouldn’t that be nice? Or did I really want to whack this guy myself? It’s been a while since anyone from the New York Task Force personally whacked a bad guy, and I think I had the last kill. The Lion. Which was why I was here for an encore performance. Also, maybe Kate whacking a CIA guy was the other reason we were here.
In any case, I was on a roll with killing big cats, and I hoped to continue my winning streak.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
We moved to where Buck was chatting with the welcome committee, and Buck did the honors and said to the four people, “You all know Paul Brenner. And this is FBI Special Agent Kate Mayfield, our new assistant legal attache in Sana’a, just arrived from the ATTF in New York. And this is Kate’s husband, also known as Detective John Corey of the FBI Evidence Response Team, also from the New York ATTF.” Buck added, “John, as I told you, has been here before and he was homesick for Aden.”
That got a laugh, but not from me.
Buck also introduced Dr. Clare Nolan, and FBI Agent Howard Fensterman, the new legat, adding, “Howard volunteered to come along for the ride.”
Did I hear someone say, “Schmuck”?
We shook hands all around, and each person introduced himself and herself.
The lady was Betsy Collins, Supervisory Special Agent and Team Leader of the five-person FBI Evidence Response Team. She seemed pleasant and welcoming, and assuming my reputation had preceded me, she was probably thrilled to have learned from Buck that she didn’t actually have to work with me.
Brenner’s Aden counterpart in the Diplomatic Security Service was Doug Reynolds, whose title was Regional Security Officer, and who looked like ex-military.
I took the opportunity to tell him, “The DSS did a hell of a job getting us here.”
He nodded and said, of course, “That’s what they get paid for.”
The second guy was Lyle Manning, Supervisory Special Agent of the ten-man FBI SWAT Team. He was a young guy, obviously in great physical shape, and like most FBI Special Agents, he wasn’t sure if an ex-cop was his peer. He was okay with Kate and Howard, though, who were in the club. FBI, by the way, means Fabulously Boring Individual. Just kidding.
The third guy was easy to identify-he wore desert cammies, a Marine cap with globe-and-anchor insignia, captain bars on his collar, and a nametag that said “McAndrews,” though he said, “Call me Mac.”
We all pulled up wicker chairs, and we stacked our rifles neatly against the cocktail table. A hovering waiter put menus on the table and said, “Welcome, new sirs and new ladies, and already honored guests to the Sheraton Aden. I am Masud. Please to inform me of your wishes.”
“Water for me and a scotch for my rifle.”
Anyway, we all ordered soft drinks, and Masud floated off to the lobby lounge.
Captain McAndrews said to the Sana’a contingent, “So you had a little excitement on the road.”
Brenner replied, “Five hours of boredom, two minutes of pure terror.” He added, “Predators did a great job.” He further added, “Road security is going downhill fast.”
Doug Reynolds, the DSS guy, said to Brenner, “I spoke to Ed Peters and he’s okay with your men staying here overnight-not happy, but okay. Meanwhile, I’ve put in a request through channels for a Yemeni Army escort back to Sana’a.”
Brenner replied, “Normally I wouldn’t want that, but I’ll take it if we can get it.” He added, “If we get offered a National Security police escort-for hire or for free-the answer is no.”
I interjected, “Especially if it’s Captain Dammaj.”
Buck and Brenner both laughed. See? They weren’t pissed at me.
Doug asked, “Who’s Captain Dammaj?”
Buck replied, “An NSB officer we met on the road. I sat-phoned that in.” He further explained, “John told him to go fuck himself.” Buck apologized to the three ladies for my language and added, “Unfortunately, we didn’t know that Captain Dammaj spoke English.”
Everyone got a good laugh at that.
Buck told our colleagues, in case they didn’t know, “This country is close to dysfunctional.”
Betsy Collins said, “Dysfunctional would be an improvement.”
As I said, and as I saw the last time I was here, our relations with our Yemeni allies were not good. The Americans saw the Yemenis as corrupt, devious, and inept, and the Yemenis knew what we thought of them. I had no idea what they thought of us, but it was easy to guess.
And to make matters worse, we were stretched so thin here that we were barely able to accomplish our mission, and barely able to protect ourselves from our enemies, not to mention our Yemeni allies.
The soft drinks came, and Doug proposed a toast. “Welcome to our guests, and here’s to much success on your mission.” He added, “Whatever it is.”
That got a few conspiratorial chuckles. Plausible deniability is important with Black Ops jobs.
I didn’t think we’d have much to do with these Aden people once we left here to find The Panther, and as with most Black Ops missions, we’d be mostly on our own. Also, though we might never see them again, they might see us if they were assigned to a body identification and recovery detail. But think happy thoughts.
Doug asked Clare, “How’s your patient?”
Clare replied, “He’ll be fine. But I’ll have to see if he needs sutures, and he needs to keep it clean.”
Captain Mac offered, “Infections are rampant here.” He added, “This whole place is a petri dish.”
Shithole.
Lyle Manning, the FBI SWAT Team Leader, changed the subject and said, “We’re a little concerned about this reported threat of an Al Qaeda attack on this installation.”
Actually, it wasn’t an installation; it was a hotel with plate glass windows. I reported, “Paul and I heard this firsthand from an Al Qaeda prisoner at Ghumdan, and the prisoner seemed credible.”
My buddy Paul agreed and added, “Al Qaeda has lost the element of surprise, so I’m sure we can deal with anything Al Qaeda tries here.”
Captain Mac added, “If, as reported, it’s only forty or so enemy combatants, it won’t be a problem. In fact, it’s an opportunity.”
Why was I not seeing these Al Qaeda attacks as opportunities? What is wrong with me?
I glanced at Clare, who looked like she wasn’t hearing this correctly. This hotel is an Al Qaeda target? Did I miss that memo?
More importantly, Howard, as an attorney and an employee of the Department of Justice and an honest man, did not need to be hearing things he didn’t need to hear. We hadn’t gone there yet, but we would, so I suggested, “If it’s all the same to Mr. Fensterman and Dr. Nolan, and the rest of us, I think Howard and Clare might want to recon the hotel and the beach.” I said that nice. Right?
Howard and Clare got it, stood, and excused themselves.
Brenner inquired of one and all, “What are the Yemenis providing or promising in the way of extra security?”
Lyle Manning replied, “To be honest, we haven’t requested anything.”
Say again?
Lyle looked at Buck, who informed us, “It was I who suggested that we not ask the Yemeni government for a large show of force.”