A huge cheer erupted as the small explosion took the volunteer’s head clean off his body. The image was safely captured for Nick’s next video of terror for the American public. Nick repeated the process for the other eighteen men and in each instance only recording the four remaining volunteers for whom he triggered the device as they hit the detonators. None of detonators would have worked unless Nick wanted them to. The frenzy of the crowd by the fifth beheading was electric and would strike fear into the heart of any enemy.
Nick was waging a psychological battle on the American people. His army was coming and it was an army that would die with a smile on its face to further its cause. Being at war was frightening even for the most battle-hardened soldiers. Fighting a war against men who were happy to die for their cause was going to strike fear across the nation on the scale of the Ebola virus itself. He was also recruiting every likeminded jihadist and terrorist in the world. He was showing them that the Jihad was coming and if they wanted to be part of it they had only to join but the message was clear, true believers and warriors only need apply.
Ibrahim dismissed his fully energized army and joined Nick while he was dismantling the camera and tripod.
“Thank you for not killing my stars,” he said.
“Allah’s will,” smiled Nick, pulling the small transmitter out of his pocket.
“What about the ones who left?”
“Send them home. They haven’t got the heart to fight. We need to know that now, not on the battlefield when we need them.”
“I cannot believe the energy, faith and excitement that your exercise has created. I have never seen the men so ready for battle, it’s a shame it’s not soon.”
“It will be,” said Nick. “Our time is near.”
Ibrahim winced. “Perhaps not our time. A truck has gone to collect the new Caliph. He is landing shortly. I was instructed to send transport just as your exercise started.”
“So he’ll be here in…” Nick looked at his watch, “about an hour?”
“No, he’s using a different landing strip. He’ll be here any minute.”
Chapter 48
“Harry!” Turner yelled through the doorway. “Something’s happening down there!”
Carson, slowly awakening, stretched and joined Turner on the gangway looking down at his team. The image on the screen showed a small aircraft being tracked across the desert, flying at a low level. Harry took one look and ran down to the main floor at a speed belying his age.
“What have we got?” he called as he ran.
“One Antonov 24 flying low, approximately one hundred miles from the target location.”
“Origin?” he asked, lowering his voice as he neared his team of specialists who had spent the night analyzing every piece of data from the Hawkeye and F18s that were circling the target landing area.
“The Hawkeye first picked it up on the Eritrean border to the East. From the aircraft’s range, it could have come from there, Saudi or Yemen. It was already of interest due to a lack of transponder but when it dropped altitude, it obviously became far more interesting, given its origin and destination.”
“Good work. It doesn’t look like it’s heading to the same spot though?” he asked, looking at the path being shown on the screen.
“No, and the altitude suggests he’s getting ready to land.”
“A meet?” asked Turner, having followed Carson down.
Carson nodded his head but continued to ponder what was happening. “Or maybe just coincidence?” he mused aloud. “How good is the camera on that Hawkeye?”
“Good but not a patch on the F18s, sir,” replied the specialist.
“If they land, do a fly-by with an F18 and get me some faces.”
“But that’ll let them know we’re on to them,” protested Turner, looking at the time. His team was only twenty minutes away.
“I know, I know, but these sly fuckers have rabbit holes and warrens they’ll bolt down and we’ll need a thousand men just to find all the exits,” replied Carson, ignoring the eyebrows being raised amongst his team, fortunately out of Turner’s field of vision. “If these are high value targets, I’m not missing my chance.”
“Jesus,” replied Turner looking more closely at the screen. “I didn’t know that!”
“Yup, they’ve spent years building tunnels throughout the desert to hide their camps,” lied Carson convincingly, causing more than one coughing fit amongst his DoD team. “Anyway,” he continued more honestly, “who’s to say that Nick isn’t being delivered back in that plane?”
“To a different location?”
“These landing areas get torn up. They’re just dirt tracks, only good for a few landings.”
Turner looked almost convinced which surprised Carson, who hadn’t even convinced himself.
“Mr. Carson, it looks like they’re going to make a landing.”
“Sir?” a hand shot up a few desks over. “I have what could be a truck about three miles out from that location.”
The specialist flicked the main screen to his colleague who had spotted a truck. The image was very poor due to the distance and quality of the Hawkeye’s camera but something moving was indeed visible.
“Well spotted,” said Carson. “Now people, let’s time this right. I want a flyover with faces in the open!”
Turner grabbed his cell and desperately tried to call Reid. Her cell was switched off. He turned to Carson. “I need to contact the CIA team!” he said urgently.
“We’re all DoD here I’m afraid,” smiled Carson. “CIA don’t trust us with their numbers.”
“Will someone get me in contact with the CIA plane!” shouted Turner in frustration.
“Deputy Director Turner, I have Barry for you,” called a voice from across the operations center floor. A CIA team member had heard Carson’s bullshit and contacted Barry to update him.
Carson looked at his watch and noted the progress of the CIA team in their plane. They were fifteen minutes out. His orders were clear. A clean kill. Nothing else was acceptable.
Carson willed the AN-24 plane to land. He needed to know who was on it before the CIA team had a chance to complicate matters.
Turner watched the same screen, willing the plane to take its time. He had been informed that the warren holes and tunnels were utter nonsense. The desert was a dark hole in surveillance without the need for any burrowing. Camps came and went in the millions of square miles of barren and featureless terrain. Stumbling across one on satellite imagery was the equivalent of winning the Powerball every week for a year. It just didn’t happen.
DoD had an agenda, one Turner was unaware of and one he certainly wasn’t going to sit back and let happen. He wanted Nick Geller in custody. Period.
Chapter 49
The first moment Frankie knew there was an issue was when the CIA team leader started yelling at the pilots.
“Can’t this fucking thing go any faster?!”
The answer was as succinct; they were travelling as fast as they could.
The CIA Team Leader jotted down the new coordinates and walked into the cockpit, handing them over to the pilot. He took the note and set it aside. He had already altered their course.
“ETA twenty minutes,” he said, before the team leader could protest.
The team leader made his way back into the main body of the V-22 Osprey and was met by a sea of faces keen to know what was happening.
“Well?” prompted Frankie.
The team leader opted to let Barry update them. He dialed his number and hit the loudspeaker, explaining who was listening in.