Right. And a guy like Altair might be one of those people. I changed the subject and said to Hakim, “Ask him if Nabeel al-Samad was here.”
Altair understood the name and so understood the question, and replied to Hakim, who told us, “Nabeel al-Samad was not here.”
Bummer. I wanted Nabeel’s balls in a Ziploc bag. But I’d find him someday. Maybe back in New York.
Brenner, combat vet, wanted to know, “Where was Altair when the Hellfires hit?”
Hakim asked and Altair replied. Hakim smiled and said, “The old man had the need to urinate and so he went off behind the stone fence to do this. He says he was spared by God.”
Or a bad prostate gland. Or he had a last-minute thought that standing on the carpet near The Panther look-alike and near Sheik Musa might not be the safest place around. Time for a piss.
Brenner asked Colonel Hakim, “What will you do with this man?”
Hakim replied matter-of-factly, “Probably I will shoot him.”
I suggested, “You may want to bring him to Ghumdan, get him patched up, and continue the interrogation.”
Hakim assured us, “He has nothing more to say.”
Brenner informed me, “The Yemeni government doesn’t like to have Al Qaeda prisoners.” He explained, “The Al Qaeda guys have a way of breaking out of jail and embarrassing the government, or they radicalize the other inmates.” He concluded, “So most of them are shot when captured, or die under interrogation.”
Sounds a bit harsh, but I had a better idea and said to Hakim, “If, as you say, you know Altair is a senior advisor to The Panther, then I’m certain he knows where his boss is hiding.”
Hakim replied, “This could be true, but he will not tell us this, even under torture.” He added, “Or even if you tell him unkind things about his chief.”
“Try another approach,” I suggested. “Offer him his freedom and, let’s say, a hundred thousand dollars. The Americans will guarantee his freedom and the money.”
Hakim thought about that, and maybe he saw a chance to get that money for himself, then shoot Altair anyway. He made the offer to Altair, who didn’t respond, but neither did he spit.
I said to Hakim, “Remind him again that al-Darwish sent him and his men like sheep to the slaughter.”
Hakim shrugged and spoke to Altair, who did not respond. When they don’t respond, you’re making progress.
I also suggested, “Maybe The Panther thinks such an old man is expendable. Maybe he doesn’t like Altair.” I said to Hakim, “Tell him that.”
Hakim did and Altair closed his eyes, indicating he had no more to say.
Well, what now? I guess if you’re partners with a PSO colonel, your options open up. And I had an idea.
I announced, “I have to take a pee,” and jumped out of the truck. Brenner followed and I asked him, “What do you want to do?”
He replied, “We need to contact the embassy as soon as possible to report our status and to report what happened here.”
“That’s the right thing to do,” I agreed.
“Then we need to get to the embassy first thing tomorrow.”
“Right. But I’m thinking that Chet and Buck are bad-mouthing us wherever they are, and we may have some problems at the embassy.” Like being locked in the basement bomb shelter waiting for the CIA station chief.
Brenner replied, “I don’t think that’s true-about having a problem… but in any case, Zamo and I need to report in person to the embassy.” He thought a moment and said, “You and Kate, however, could probably go directly to Sana’a Airport and take the first flight out that’s heading anywhere except Sandland.”
“Good thinking. But here’s another idea. Ready?”
He nodded tentatively.
“We throw Altair into the Land Cruiser and take him into the hills. He shows us where the Al Qaeda camp is, and we show him what two-thousand-pound bombs can do. We tell him that if The Panther was in the camp, he’s probably dead, but if not, he should be because he’s an asshole, a coward, and an incompetent fuck-up. And then we ask Altair nicely to show us where The Panther’s hideout is. And if he does that, we’ll save him from Colonel Hakim, give him a nice reward, and send him to the Bahamas.” I asked Brenner, “What do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy.”
“Good. Look, Paul, Altair is our one and only link to The Panther, and I’m sure that old bastard knows where that asshole is hiding. We gotta give this a shot.”
Brenner thought a moment, then said, “It’s actually not a terrible idea, but we are definitely not authorized to make up our own missions.”
“Why not? Someone authorized Chet to bump us off, so we can do whatever the hell we want.”
Brenner took a deep breath and said, “We have no backup, no logistical support, no commo, and we’re low on ammo.”
“But we have a new partner. He’s got what we need and we’ll take him along.” I added, “Hakim is authorized to do whatever he wants to do.”
“Actually, Hakim should do this on his own.”
“Hakim,” I pointed out, “is incompetent, probably lazy, and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Al Qaeda or Bulus ibn al-Darwish.”
“But he cares about the reward.”
“Right. So he’ll come with us. We need an interpreter anyway.”
Brenner went into thinking mode, weighing the pros and cons of getting out of this shithole or getting deeper into it. He pointed out, “Altair may not be able to make the trip.”
“He looks fine. He’s a tough old goat. Or eagle. And if he dies, he dies. Better than Hakim’s bullet in his head.”
Brenner said to me, “I think you’ve been here too long.”
“I’ve been crazy for years.” I suggested to him, “When you get home, you’ll realize how crazy you were here.”
He forced a smile, ruminated, then said, “All right… if Hakim says okay to this, and if he comes with us, we’ll go.”
“Good. We’re going to complete this mission.”
Mr. Brenner asked, “How about Kate?”
“She wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Brenner was about to say something about that, but Colonel Hakim, who wanted to see what his new partners were up to, hopped out of the truck and asked us, “So what do you do now?”
“Glad you asked.” I explained my plan to him and he listened, nodding a few times. I assured him, “If we can kill or capture The Panther, I’ll see to it that you get the three million you asked for.” I pointed out, “The Bedouin were helpful to us, but one of them betrayed us, and we don’t have a dead Panther.” So fuck them.
Colonel Hakim nodded, but said, “The old man is perhaps not well enough to make this journey.”
“Have your medic give him something to perk him up.” But not Viagra. We’ve been fucked enough today.
Hakim nodded again, but said, “He may not be as cooperative as you wish. He will protect his chief.”
“We won’t know what he’s going to do until we get up there.”
Colonel Hakim asked us, “Do you know where this Al Qaeda camp is?”
“Altair knows,” I assured him.
“He will not tell us.”
“I’m sure you can make him tell us.”
“Perhaps.” He let us know, “I have some idea where it is.”
“Good. And I happen to have map coordinates.” I asked Hakim, “Do you have a map of the area?”
“Of course.”
“Well, then, between you, me, and Altair, we’re practically there.”
Colonel Hakim excused himself, and Brenner and I walked toward our Land Cruiser. I asked Brenner, “How about Zamo?”
“He likes looking for jihadists in the mountains.”
“Right. Doesn’t everyone?” So Operation Clean Sweep, sans Chet, Buck, and Washington, continues. No complicated plans, no high tech, and no John and Kate for bait; just a bunch of guys in the hills trying to kill each other the old-fashioned way.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
Brenner and I explained the plan to Zamo and Kate, who signed on without a lot of questions. I mean, the more you think about bold ideas, the more problems you find. And if you keep going down that path, you’ll come to an unpleasant truth: This is fucking dangerous. So why think about it? Just do it.