Someone darted across the alley up ahead, then he was gone. Not good. Chris hand signaled the sighting back to Hannah who signaled it back to Sonny. Then someone else passed. Not good. Once more, Chris passed back the signal. Did they see us insert? Probably not. Do they know we’re coming? Mordet might’ve put them on alert. Do Mordet’s friends know when we’re coming? Probably not.
After patrolling past a public trash receptacle, they turned down another alley. Suddenly, a young man in his twenties appeared carrying an AK. He aimed the AK at Chris. It happened so fast that he had no time to think — only time to react. It was the kid or Chris, and if the kid took Chris out, he might take out Hannah or Sonny, too, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He fired twice into the kid’s chest and once to his head. Chris’s sound suppressor was quieter than a rifle shot, but it wasn’t silent. Someone had probably heard the noise but wouldn’t know that it was a rifle shot. If that someone discovered the body, the real shooting would begin, sooner rather than later. There was no time for gazing into his belly and contemplating the tragedies of war, and there was no time to feel sorrow for the kid or his parents, who’d never get to say good-bye. Even if there was time, Chris couldn’t carry such burdens of sorrow on top of the burdens of keeping his friends alive and accomplishing the mission. If Chris wanted his friends to survive, he had to keep his head in combat mode.
He moved swiftly to the body, picked up the AK, handed it to Hannah, and signaled for her and Sonny to guard him. Chris picked up the bloody kid using a fireman’s carry and went back to the public trash bin. He raised the lid and dumped him inside — for a minister, such a burial was unthinkable, but for a SEAL, such a burial was necessary. Chris locked compassion and mercy inside a box, and replaced them with ruthless efficiency. He grabbed the AK from Hannah and tossed it in with the kid before closing the lid.
Chris resumed walking the point. They crossed an asphalt street and kept close to the buildings to stay out of the moonlight. He was careful not to walk too close to the buildings, though. If shooting broke out, bullets would have the tendency to skip along walls until they struck someone. He didn’t want to be that someone.
They turned another corner, passed through an empty lot, and climbed up some stairs. Most of the buildings were shaded variations of white or grey. The whole city was starting to look the same.
Am I traveling in circles?
He wanted to check his GPS but disciplined himself not to — a lit screen would draw too much attention to him. Instead, he made a mental note of the business signs written in Arabic above store entrances and used them as landmarks.
The shops and other buildings gave way to farmland, first on the right side of the road, then the left, until they traversed through fields and passed farmhouses. The trio made their way into a patch of date palm trees that bordered Professor Mordet’s land. The trees would give them cover and concealment. Chris lay down behind a palm tree, and Hannah and Sonny joined him on the ground. They observed the front of the two-story French colonial plantation house. This time, its presence lacked the eeriness of last time.
“Something is different,” Chris whispered, but he couldn’t quite discern what it was.
“Maybe you’re different,” Sonny said. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been here.”
“Maybe.” Then he remembered: the heavy hand of gloom that had pressed down on him the last time he was here; it wasn’t pressing down on him this time. Maybe Mordet isn’t here.
A guard sat on a large wooden chair outside on the first floor porch with an AK lying across his lap. There would be at least one other guard on the back porch and one inside. Chris and Sonny circled around to the left of the guard, and Chris administered him his last rites.
Hannah linked up with Chris and Sonny, and they crept around to the back, but there was no guard there. They continued around the building until they reached a door on the side of the house, and Chris picked the lock without any difficulty. Chris opened the door. It all felt too easy.
Sonny rushed in and commanded the living room. Hannah and Chris followed. The fancy furniture and French windows looked the way he remembered. They methodically scoured the first floor. This time, he had only two teammates, and it took more than twice as long to clear the rooms. Although Hannah was talented at room clearing, more than many military guys, her Agency training and experiences didn’t focus on it; rather, her training and experience focused on recruiting agents in hostile countries and using those agents to gather intelligence. Even though room clearing stretched Hannah’s job description, her ability to run with the big dogs was impressive. First deck clear.
Similarly, they worked through the upper deck until they reached Professor Mordet’s room. This time, the heavy feeling wasn’t present. Chris checked the doorknob. It turned.
He pushed the door open, and Sonny stormed inside. Hannah moved behind him, and Chris brought up the rear. The bed was made and there was no sign of Mordet.
“Where is he?” Sonny asked.
Chris shook his head.
They searched his room and the rest of the second floor for intelligence and put a laptop, flash drives, DVDs, papers, and other materials in their backpacks.
Minutes later, they worked through the first deck, including the kitchen.
Hannah opened the refrigerator. “There’s no food in here,” she said. “He’s not likely to come back anytime soon.”
Sonny grabbed a container of bottled water and took a drink. “Maybe he eats out a lot.”
Her eyes shifted to an odd-looking squat white pot sitting on a counter plugged in to a wall. “Whoa,” she said.
“What is it?” Chris asked.
She walked over to the pot and opened the top. “Looks like a dehydrator.” She took the top off. Inside were three trays stacked on top of each other. The top tray was clean. She pulled the first tray off and examined the second tray — nothing. In the bottom tray she found something — a piece of dried meat.
Sonny reached for it. “Beef jerky.”
“You don’t know who that might be,” Chris said.
Sonny appeared confused. “What?”
“Professor Mordet likes to eat people,” Hannah explained. “Let me bag that.”
Sonny’s confused face twisted into disgust. “What in God’s name?”
“Not in God’s name,” Chris said. “About as far from God as Satan can hide.”
She opened drawers and looked inside them.
“Who do you think it is?” Chris asked.
She found a Ziploc bag, sealed the dried meat in it, and pocketed the bag. “We’re going to find out.”
They examined the living room and dining area before Chris checked a storage closet. It was bare except for an old shirt hanging from a hook. Chris pushed aside the shirt. Mounted on the exposed wall was a security alarm monitor. Two small lights were blinking red like machine gun fire: armed and alarm.
22
Chris ran into the living room. “We tripped an alarm!”
Hannah dropped a pillow on the couch. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Go, go, go!” Sonny shouted.
Chris glanced out the front window. Truckloads of men armed with AKs rolled up the road toward the plantation.
“They’re out front!” he said. “Take the back door!” Hannah was closest to the back door and reached it first. She unlocked it, threw it open, and dashed. Sonny and Chris followed close behind.