For thirty minutes, Hannah drove down Syria’s west coast until they passed Latakia.
Sonny made conversation, but the macho tone of his voice suggested that he was enamored with her.
“Where you from?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
“I’m from New York,” he said with his chest sticking out.
“I figured that,” she said.
“Queens,” he offered up more.
She was the ultimate spook, pulling information out of people without even trying. “I grew up in Hawaii,” she said.
“Were you born there?”
“Born and raised,” she said.
Hannah had told Chris that she was from East LA, but now she was telling Sonny that she was from Hawaii. Question marks popped up in Chris’s mind, but only Hannah could answer them, so he ignored them and drifted to sleep.
Two and a half hours later, they switched roles. Chris took the wheel. He knew the roads, so he didn’t need a navigator, so Hannah only needed to keep a lookout for trouble. Sonny slept in the back, snoring loudly like a twenty-mike-mike auto cannon.
Hannah checked her cell phone. “The embassy attack is on the Internet news. Shortly after, some Turkish border patrol officers and innocent bystanders were killed at the Kasab Border Crossing Terminal.”
“Mordet,” Chris said.
“We really need to stop him.”
“Most definitely.” Chris wiped the sleep out of his eyes as they travelled east through the middle of Syria. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, changing the topic. “Before I fell asleep, I heard you tell Sonny you’re from Hawaii.”
“Oh?” she said casually.
“But you told me you were from East LA.”
“Okay,” she said.
“So which is it?” he asked.
“Which what?”
“Are you from LA or Hawaii?”
“Which do you prefer?”
He felt awkward but pressed on. “That’s not what I asked.”
“Okay,” she said.
Chris modified his question. “Why would you tell us two different stories?”
“The less information you know, the better. If you’re ever captured, they’ll make you tell everything you know about me and everyone else so—”
Chris cut her off. “They won’t take me alive.”
Hannah became silent for a moment. “You depend too much on it.”
“On what?”
“Truth.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Truth is subjective and relative.”
“You really believe that?”
“Don’t you?” she asked.
“Truth is objective and absolute. It’s not so complicated.”
“Sometimes I like complications,” she admitted. “But most people believe what they want to believe. And …that is their truth.”
“What about you?” he asked. “What do you believe?”
“Whatever helps me thrive. That is my truth.”
They became quiet for a minute.
“You think Sonny would ever allow himself to be captured by terrorists?” she asked.
“I don’t know of any Unit guys who’d allow themselves to be taken alive. Sonny seems to have that same attitude.” Chris paused. “What about you?”
“I don’t know,” Hannah replied. “I guess it would depend on the situation. After what Mordet did to your ear? After what he did to Young, and worse, my asset? Either we take Mordet down or die trying because I won’t be a warm meal for that maniac. He’ll have to eat me cold.”
21
In the afternoon, Sonny kept watch and an eye on the GPS tracker. “The signal just disappeared,” he said.
Chris drove. “Are you sure?”
“The GPS tracker shows our location on the map, but the device’s signal is gone.”
Chris drove to the Euphrates River and followed it south. Then he rolled into Al-Bukamal. “We should probably find a place to stage our gear,” Chris said.
“Sounds good.”
He drove them to a run-down part of town where he found a motel and parked in back. “I’m going to rent us a place,” he said.
“You need backup?” Sonny asked.
He smiled. “Not this time.”
“Good. I’ll wake up Sleeping Beauty, then.” Sonny winked, and Chris just shook his head.
Minutes later, he returned with a key. Hannah and Sonny exited the car, and Chris escorted them on foot to a run-down motel that rented rooms out by the hour. Inside the room, he unlocked the door, reached in, and turned on the light. A cockroach scurried away. The small, dingy room for two felt cramped with the three of them inside, but it could’ve been worse. They took turns showering in the worn and rusted bathroom.
After they’d all freshened up, Hannah said, “I want the Switchblade Whisper’s black box.” Determination was etched across her features, hard and cold like marble.
“I want to kill Mordet,” Sonny added.
“If this op is successful, there’ll be no shooting,” Chris reminded him. “We’ll insert quietly, grab the black box, and exfil like ninjas. If it hits the fan, there’ll be no air support or QRF, so we’ll be on our own.”
“Can’t blame a guy for wanting,” Sonny said.
They made plans while preparing their gear.
“I nominate Chris to be point man on this,” Sonny said. “He’s been here before, and he knows the area best.”
“Agree,” Hannah said.
“Most of the people in this area would rather kill an American than look at one,” Chris said. “They won’t ask to hear our cover story. And it’s possible that Mordet will be waiting to ambush us.”
“We’ll need to carry a lot more than pistols,” Sonny said.
Chris and Hannah agreed.
After staging his gear, Chris studied the GPS again and again to make sure he knew the area. Preparations complete, they waited until midnight, when they loaded into their stolen sedan and motored to the edge of town.
Hannah kept her eyes on the street as Chris drove. “It’s too quiet,” she said.
“Like they’re expecting us,” Chris said.
Chris parked the car beside a small school. Others had parked their vehicles there, too. They stepped out of their car, and carrying their rifles and some grenades, Chris led them quickly across the school grounds to a dark patch of weeds under trees blocking the moonlight. They lay there for fifteen minutes to make sure no one was alerted to their insertion, while a pair of flies buzzed around them.
When it seemed no welcoming committee was on its way, Chris slipped across a paved street and descended concrete stairs to a filthy area that seemed like a cross between a parking lot, a backyard, and a road. Half a burned-out car lay in the weeds. Like many places his missions had taken him, it was difficult to figure out where one property ended, another began, and where public property was.
They turned a corner and stepped over concrete bricks scattered on a walkway made of large concrete tiles. Then they passed between two houses. Weeds poked up between cracks in the concrete. They descended another flight of steps to a dirt road that led uphill. The sound of footsteps crossed behind one of the houses, but it wasn’t clear who, what, or exactly where.
Chris led them through the maze of buildings. Thinking about finding Mordet’s plantation sped up his breathing and heart rate. It had been years since he’d infiltrated the area, and this was the first time he’d passed through the city on the way to the plantation. The source of much of his anxiety was his desire to keep his teammates safe.