Allahu akbar-Boom.
Man, he deserved a cold beer-Allah willing or not.
Fazul approached the side of the truck and looked inside. Moving his finger in circles in the air, he traced the wiring through several loops. Nodding his head in approval, he clutched Hunter’s shoulder and shook it lightly. “All appears as it should. You have saved your life for now, insh’allah.”
“When you’re ready to detonate it, all you have to do is call the cell number-935-7949.” Hunter read out the number of one of the phones that was not hooked up to the IED, just in case he got some wires crossed. He wanted either his timer to work or the whole thing to be a dud. The more he thought about it, being an accessory to blowing up a wedding was not something he wanted on his conscience.
“How far away should we be?” Fazul said.
The answer Hunter wanted to give was sitting on top of the goddamn thing, but he shaved off several hundred meters from how far he would personally distance himself and said, “One hundred meters.”
Hunter gathered the tools into a cardboard box and carried it into the house. One of the twins followed him, his gun always pointed at him. Then he went back outside where Fazul was barking orders at the teenager. The twins piled into the truck and the teenage boy jumped into the back with the IED.
“Mufid, out!” Fazul said. “I told you, you’re guarding our friend and the American whore. Get me a piece of rope, now! We’re going to be late.”
The boy shuffled into the house and returned a couple of minutes later with a half meter long piece of rope. If it were his operation, he would’ve used the extra wire to hog tie the prisoner, but who was he to dispense advice? He held out his wrists and Mufid bound them tightly in front of him. Big mistake, muj-man.
The Passat’s door was jammed. Fazul pulled on the handle, then gave up and climbed in through its missing window. Hunter guessed it was more macho than circling to the passenger side of the getaway car.
Fazul leaned out and gave final orders to the boy. “Keep your gun on him at all times. If he tries to get away, kill him. If the bomb works, when I return we’ll send him on his way with our blessings. If it does not, it’s not our blessings that he will need.” He started to drive off, then stopped and shouted, “And stay away from the American whore.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ramadi, Anbar Province
Camille and her interpreter returned to Omar’s Electronics exactly one hour later. This time she noticed the thick layer of dust on the satellite dishes and assumed the inventory was not turning over very fast. If business was slow, then he’d be even more receptive to selling information. With the way the day had gone, it probably only meant what she already knew-that Iraq was a very dusty country.
She greeted him.
“I am sorry. The man you are looking for is similar to another customer who was in here yesterday. I was mistaken.” The shopkeeper waved his hands.
Camille pulled out a one hundred dollar bill, but Omar averted his eyes. She took out another, then another. When he didn’t even glance at them, Camille knew it was hopeless.
“I cannot help you.” Omar held up his hand, turned and wedged himself through the doorway, disappearing into the back room.
Chapter Nineteen
Anbar Province
The boy kept his AK trained on Hunter as they watched the cloud of dust and sand kicked up by the Passat and the truck bomb disappear into the distance. Hunter flexed and twisted his wrists, trying to get as much play as he could from the ropes, but he only caused rope burn. They were tied too tightly. He’d have to work around it. The boy led Hunter back into the house. Either by instinct or training, the boy kept himself just far enough away from Hunter so he couldn’t disarm him. He ordered Hunter to sit on the floor up against a wall. Like a good Arab, Hunter squatted instead.
“Help me!” Jackie Nelson started pleading again.
The boy stared at the door to the bedroom where she was being held. Hunter was relieved they hadn’t broken her spirit-yet. They had sure fucked with his.
“Why will they not allow you to have her?” Hunter kept his eyes on the hostage’s doorway. “You must not be man enough and they know it. They are your friends. They save you the humiliation.”
“I am a man.” The boy jumped to his feet.
“Of course you are. That’s why you’re the one holding the infidel’s feet when the others cut off the head.” Hunter grinned as he calculated how much farther he needed to push the little bastard. “Tell me, Mufid, do they take you when there’s no woman around? Maybe you like that too much and that’s why they don’t permit you to know her.”
“I am man enough! I can have a woman whenever I want.” He pointed the barrel of his AK at Hunter, then toward the bedroom door. “Get in there. I have to keep an eye on you.”
The boy ordered Hunter to stand beside the wall where he could watch him. Mufid pulled up his man-dress and climbed on top of Jackie Nelson, the AK in his right hand. She screamed and he slapped her.
With Mufid distracted, Hunter inched himself along the wall, moving out of the boy’s main line of sight into his peripheral vision. The boy wiggled, trying to position himself. Jackie struggled and he smacked her harder.
Hunter couldn’t restrain himself waiting for the optimal moment any longer. She had suffered too much. He jumped onto the boy’s back, slipped his bound wrists around his head and jerked upwards. The neck snapped with a loud crack. His hands still around the neck, he lifted the body off Jackie and dropped it onto the floor.
She screamed even louder than before.
“Jackie, you’re safe,” Hunter said as he checked out the AK. He dropped the mag, pushed on the rounds and felt some give. It was a few short.
Jackie continued screeching, her eyes tightly closed.
He raised his voice. “I’m rescuing you. You’re safe. I’m American.”
She opened her eyes. “You’re one of them.” She started crying, then sobbing. He wasn’t sure if she knew where she was and what was happening or if she had totally broken with reality in order to survive.
“No. Calm down and listen to me. I’m with the US government. I’m getting you out of here.”
His arms were still bound, so he couldn’t stroke her or put his hand on her to reassure her. He sat beside her on the smelly bed waiting for his words to sink in. After a couple of minutes, her sobs faded into a whimper. Progress.
“You’re going to be okay, Jackie, but I need you to get a grip on yourself. We have to go.” He couldn’t believe he was taking time to get in touch with his softer side, but he felt like he had to after what he’d done to her. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to get far with her unless she pulled herself together.
Hunter heard a vehicle approaching the house.
“Oh, fuck. Stay here and keep low.” Hunter sat up and grabbed the AK. He rushed into the main room, tripping on his man-dress. Reaching inside the cardboard tool box, he groped around, but couldn’t find the knife to cut himself free. When he heard the engine turn off, he gave up and dashed out the back door with his hands still tied up.
Hunter circled the building, constantly trying to get a better grip on the AK. The red Nissan with his bomb in the back was parked directly in front of the house, close enough that it would take out the entire structure if it detonated. He should’ve told Jackie to run out the back and take her chances with any gunfire.