On the very last day of the month, I was told to report to the small briefing room in the admin building. It was mid-afternoon as I made my way across Fort Saradia. The sun was high in the sky; it was warm but not hot. A strong wind blew from the north. Every time it would gust, it’d kick up another huge cloud of dust. Other than the howling wind, the compound was quiet.
I was apparently the last one to arrive in the small briefing room. Colonel Hunter and Sarah were standing at the front of the room, talking quietly. A laptop was set up on a table, hooked up to a projector. A portable screen stood at the head of the darkened room.
“About time,” Tailor said, sitting at one of the desks with a notebook.
“Are we taking a test or something?” I asked, sitting next to him. I briefly wondered if this was one of those crazy dreams where you’re back in school and have to take an exam you haven’t studied for.
“They’re shipping us off,” Hudson said from across the room. Sitting next to him was Wheeler, the guy who kept asking questions on the plane. He and Hudson had both been in the Rangers together. Wheeler was a slim, freckled redhead. Despite being from New York, he was a country boy. Wheeler had grown up hunting in the woods of upstate New York, or as he always pointed out, the “unpaved” part of the state.
“To where?” I asked.
“Downtown,” Colonel Hunter explained, facing us at last. “You boys are ready. I’m shipping the four of you off to one of our safe houses in the city.”
“Al Khor,” Sarah said. “It’s the upper class of the three peninsulas of Zubara City. It’s where most of the government ministries are and where most of the Westerners live. It’ll be easier for you to blend in there, but you will operate throughout the city.”
“So, we’re the last ones to leave, and we’re getting an easy assignment,” Tailor said. “Did we screw up somehow, sir?”
“You’re the last team to leave, Mr. Tailor, but you’ll probably get the first mission. I’ve actually been impressed with you boys, so I’m assigning you all to the same chalk.”
“Just the four of us, sir?” Wheeler asked.
“You’ll be fine,” Hunter replied. “Mr. Tailor, you’re in charge of this chalk.”
“Yes, sir!” Tailor answered crisply. I groaned. Tailor kicked me in the shin under the desk.
“From your records, I know that Mr. Tailor has the most combat experience of you four,” Hunter said. “Mr. Valentine, you’re second-in-command.”
“But, sir,” Wheeler protested, “I mean, no offense to Valentine, but Hudson and I have been through a lot. We did two tours in Afghanistan together.”
“I know that, Mr. Wheeler. However, Mr. Valentine has seen combat in Afghanistan, Africa, Bosnia, China, Central America, and Mexico. I didn’t make the chain-of-command decision lightly. Do not question me, ginger.”
Tailor snickered.
“Holy shit, Val,” Wheeler said, looking over at me. I just shrugged.
“Moving along,” Hunter said, “your first target is this man.” Sarah pressed a few keys on the laptop. An image of a young Gulf Arab man, probably no older than me, appeared on the screen. He was wearing the traditional thobe and headdress. He had a baby face, with a thin mustache and a neatly trimmed beard on his chin. “His name is Abdul bin Muhammad Al Falah. He’s a young up-and-comer in the Zubaran terrorist network. He’s used his family’s money and political connections to try to make a name for himself.”
“He looks like a kid, Colonel,” Tailor said.
“He’s twenty-six,” Hunter replied. “He’s also, by all accounts, just a spoiled rich man’s son. Our intelligence assets believe this is all a game for young Mr. Al Falah. And he’s not been directly involved in any terrorist operations so far.”
“So why is he important?” Hudson asked.
“He has connections. They’re grooming him to be a player when he gets older. Your first assignment, gentlemen, is to locate and capture Mr. Al Falah.”
“Capture, sir?” I asked.
“The junior Al Falah knows people,” Sarah said, still sitting in front of her computer. “He’ll be a very useful intelligence asset. He’s relatively young and inexperienced, too, so it should be easier to extract information from him.” Her voice was colder than usual as she spoke.
“Miss McAllister is right,” Hunter said. “We need him alive, for the time being. You will interrogate him.”
“Are we supposed to make him talk?” Wheeler sounded nervous with the idea. “Aren’t there, like, rules about that now?”
Hunter scowled. “Rules? Does extracting information from this young man make you uncomfortable, Mr. Wheeler?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You’re not in the army anymore. This young man has been helping recruit the assholes who’ve been blowing up your old compatriots. I don’t want rules, gentlemen, I want results.”
“So, how are we supposed to find him?” Tailor asked.
“Our intelligence assets are working on that, Mr. Tailor,” Hunter replied. “You’ll be assigned to observe him yourself, and you’ll be given a list of places he frequents. He’s not a difficult man to track, and he has no reason to suspect he’s in any danger here. Zubara has been a safe haven for terrorists for years. This should be an easy one.”
“I’ll be assisting during operations,” Sarah said, taking over from Hunter, “as a sort of dispatcher. I’ll be in radio contact with the other operational teams. I can update you on intelligence, give you instructions, and assist in translating if you need it. You’ve all been assigned radio call signs. Wheeler, yours is Ginger.”
“Hey!” Wheeler protested. Tailor broke out in a laugh.
Sarah ignored our adolescent humor. “Hudson, you’re Shafter.”
“So the black man gets to be Shafter, huh?” Hudson growled. “Hell, why not Dolemite? Or how ’bout Black Dynamite?” The room immediately fell silent. Sarah looked at Colonel Hunter, not knowing what to say. Hudson could only maintain his indignant expression for so long before he started laughing. “Lord, girl, where did you come up with these?”
“They’re randomly chosen by computer,” Sarah insisted.
“Bullshit!” Wheeler snorted. Hudson slapped the desk and let out a raucous laugh.
“Gentlemen,” Hunter warned, frowning. Kill joy.
Sarah continued. “Tailor, your call sign is Xbox.”
“Xbox?” Tailor asked, sounding laughably butt-hurt. “Seriously?” Wheeler folded his arms across his chest and gave Tailor a look of smug satisfaction. I chuckled.
“And Valentine, your call sign is Nightcrawler.”
“Nightcrawler?” I repeated. “How did you come up with that?”
Hunter finally cracked a smile. “You should’ve heard some of the ones she came up with for the other boys. Mr. Walker’s call sign is Lilac.”
“I thought you said they were randomly chosen by computer?”
Sarah tried as hard as she could to look innocent. “They are! Why would you think otherwise?” She flashed me a little smile and winked. Tailor, noticing, kicked me under the desk again.
VALENTINE
Ash Shamal District
March 11
1900
“This is Ginger. I’ve got eyes on the target,” Wheeler said over the radio.