Look, I could be way off base on this, in which case there was nothing more to say or do. But if I was right, Chet and his people were now trying to figure out if Operation Clean Sweep should include John and Kate.
It would have occurred to them, too, that if John Corey knew or suspected a whack job way back in New York, then I would have left one of those “To Be Opened Only in the Event of My Death” notes with someone.
Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. Maybe because I didn’t intend to get whacked here by the CIA. Or maybe because if Kate and I got killed by Al Qaeda or The Panther, I wouldn’t want the CIA to be suspected of a crime they didn’t commit. No matter how I felt about the Agency, in the end they are our first line of defense, and I am a dedicated and responsible professional.
Early the next afternoon, after salat and after the last can of tuna had been eaten, Chet’s sat-phone rang. He went to the window where it was plugged into the antenna, and answered.
He listened, then said, “Okay, thanks,” and informed us, “Predator reports three white Land Cruisers approaching from the north and heading toward this plateau.”
Kate asked, “Who do you think they are?”
Chet replied, “Could be re-supply… or it could be the men we’ve been waiting for.”
Brenner asked, “Why didn’t Musa give us a heads-up?”
Buck replied, “He would give his men a heads-up-not us.”
And sure enough, we heard a commotion in the courtyard.
We all went to the window, and I saw that our eight Bedouin were on their feet, AK-47s in hand, and one of them was on his cell phone. Then four armed Bedouin ran toward the tower and we could hear them coming up the stone stairs.
Everyone grabbed their M4s and we spread ourselves strategically around the stairwell. Buck stood at the top of the stairs with his M4 slung.
The four Bedouin were on the staircase now, shouting loudly and excitedly as they ran up the stairs.
Buck said to us, “Al Qaeda is coming to see the kidnapped Americans.”
Great. I mean, you know you’re bored when you look forward to a visit from Al Qaeda.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Chet, looking very happy, said to us, “The Panther has bitten.”
Right. But The Panther wasn’t biting Chet, who, being a spook, was not really here. So Chet excused himself, saying, “I’ll stay in contact with the Predators.” And off he went down the stairs and into the van.
So now we had to look like prisoners of the Bedouin, who fortunately treated their kidnapped guests well.
Kate wrapped her hair and face in her black scarf as the four Bedouin came up the stairs and quickly gathered up most of our things, including our sat-phone antenna from the window. It might be hard to explain to the Al Qaeda guys if we got a phone call, so we also shut off our hand-held radios, sat-phones, and cell phones.
The four Bedouin carried our baggage up one level, as well as our boxes of canned food and our reading material, leaving only our bread and water on the floor. Our friend Yasir and another Bedouin rolled up our carpet and also carried it up the stairs.
The Bedouin wanted our M4 carbines and Zamo’s rifle, but Brenner flat-out refused, and we stowed them under our straw bedding. We also kept our Colt.45s concealed in our holsters, which we moved to the small of our backs, though we had to take off our Kevlar vests in case the Al Qaeda guys were sharp enough to notice. Kate took care of that, modestly, in the indoor outhouse.
We also gave the Bedouin our watches and the non-diplomatic passports that we’d used to check in at the Bilqis Hotel, but we kept our diplomatic passports in case we needed to make a dash for the Saudi border.
We’d thought this out over the last few days, and it seemed that we’d thought of everything. But then Kate said, “Chet’s blanket.”
Right.
Buck picked up the blanket and tossed it out the window. I would have tossed it down the shit shaft.
So, did we look like prisoners who’d been cooped up here for four days? We certainly smelled the part.
Last thing. We scuffed up the floor where our carpet had been and Buck impressed us with his tradecraft by saying, “Perhaps we should put some bird droppings here.”
I told him, “That’s your job, Buck.” But he let it go.
We heard something in the courtyard and we all went to the window. The gates were open now, and a white Land Cruiser drove into the courtyard. Then another, and another.
Al Qaeda was here.
We continued to watch as the four Bedouin in the courtyard opened the rear doors of the Land Cruisers and assisted the black-hooded occupants from the vehicles. There were five of them, dressed in white foutehs and sandals. Also, they had their AK-47s slung over their shoulders. I mean, even blindfolded negotiators carried guns here.
Brenner remarked, “They’ve got to know they were driven up to the Crow Fortress.”
Buck assured us, “There are a number of places like this in the hills.”
That’s good. I hope the Bedouin drivers were smart enough to drive these assholes in circles for a few hours.
Anyway, we watched as the five hooded Al Qaeda guys were walked across the courtyard toward the tower. Don’t bump into that Predator van.
So now it was time for us to look like five prized Amriki worth a hundred thousand bucks.
We all sat on the bare wooden floor. From left to right it was Brenner, Zamo, Buck, me, and Kate on the far right. The four Bedouin produced three chained ankle shackles and keys. We refused their kind offer to shackle us and did it ourselves-Brenner and Zamo shared a set of shackles, as did Buck and I. Kate, being a woman, had her own set of shackles. We kept the keys. Last thing, we pulled off our shoes and socks, and the Bedouin put them under the straw.
Buck reminded us, “Scuff the soles of your feet on the floor.”
Right. Never underestimate the intelligence or the perceptive powers of the enemy. They’re not as dumb as they look. In fact, these guys probably knew what prisoners were supposed to look like.
This could be a setup, of course, and we could be real prisoners in about five minutes, or real dead. But Musa and his Bedouin had other opportunities to double-cross us. And bottom line, our hands were free and our guns were ready to be drawn.
Someone called out in Arabic from the stairwell and our buddy, Yasir, called back.
I asked Kate, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Buck reminded her, “Keep your head and eyes down.”
A few seconds later, the five hooded Al Qaeda guys with three Bedouin guiding them came up the stone stairs and into the tower room.
The Bedouin placed the five Al Qaeda guys in a line, shoulder to shoulder, about five feet in front of us, then one by one they pulled off the black hoods. And we were face-to-face with the enemy.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
The Al Qaeda delegation looked like a firing squad, lined up with their rifles slung on their shoulders.
Also, five men were more than they needed to ID the Americans, so this was a power play or a show of force, and the Bedouin shouldn’t have allowed it. But they did, so I expected the Al Qaeda guys to throw their weight around.
Four Bedouin remained in the diwan, including Yasir, who seemed to be hosting this occasion.
The Amriki were supposed to look frightened, nervous, tired, and dejected, which meant mostly just looking down and keeping our mouths shut, unless spoken to. On the other hand, Al Qaeda knew we were not tourists, so we could show a little defiance now and then.
I looked at the five Al Qaeda fighters standing in front of us. They were on the young side-maybe early to mid-twenties, though their faces appeared weather-beaten and old beyond their years. They were beardless, but not exactly clean-shaven, and they looked pretty grim, though they should have been enjoying this.