“When do I meet this man?” Jake asked.
“He’ll let us know when he’s ready for us. In the meantime, enjoy a good meal.”
“What do you mean, ‘when he’s ready for us?’ Is he here?”
“He owns the place, Wrangler’s Steakhouse. He’s been watching us since we got off the jet.”
CHAPTER 9
Kaplan, and the young man known only as Chase, pulled up in front of the safe house in the Company’s Toyota Land Cruiser. The ride from Aden to Sana’a was long and lack of food and sleep were taking its toll. Kaplan hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours or eaten in over nine. The back of the U. S. Army C-130 that flew him from Washington to Yemen was loud and uncomfortable. First order of business was to eat and sleep. Daylight was only nine hours away and he wanted to be on the move by sun up.
Chase was younger than Kaplan expected, mid-twenties, and shorter too. Maybe five nine. He looked strong, and cut. He had a close-cropped beard — a chin curtain with no mustache. With his jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes, and backpack, Chase looked like a college student.
From the information Kaplan gleaned during his pre-mission brief, Chase was part of a Delta Force Squadron temporarily based in Oman, now on special assignment in Yemen. As the United States’ primary counter-terrorism unit, Delta was a versatile group of soldiers capable of assuming many covert missions, hostage rescue among them. Since Delta was a highly secretive unit, they were granted autonomy and tremendous latitude. They were allowed relaxed grooming and clothing standards and told to blend in and not be recognizable as military personnel.
Kaplan had studied the maps along the way with a Maglite held between his teeth. There were so many small villages in the outlying areas surrounding Sana’a that Isabella Hunt could be anywhere. The mountainous area was steep, rugged terrain, so a rescue attempt would be challenging. On the other hand, if they had taken her into a valley or the flat desert, infiltration and exfiltration would be simpler.
“Mr. Kaplan, are your familiar with Delta and its mission?” Chase asked.
Kaplan laughed.
“What’s so funny? That wasn’t a joke.”
Kaplan reached down, rolled up his sleeve, and let his Maglite flash across his upper arm. “What do you think?”
On Kaplan’s arm was a tattoo — Airborne — the insignia of the Delta Force. An arrowhead shield with a superimposed sword. “Good.”
Kaplan went back to studying the map.
“Rank?” Chase asked.
“Sergeant Major.” Kaplan turned off the Maglite. “You?”
“Captain.”
“Captain?” Kaplan folded his map. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Great.” They promote them younger and younger these days.
According to Chase, one of the local sources had seen Hunt but was afraid to talk. Someone was needed to lean on the source and leaning was one of Kaplan’s areas of specialty. If the source knew anything, as Chase had indicated, Kaplan would squeeze the information out of him.
Chase turned off the ignition to the Land Cruiser. “Before we go in, let me brief you on our brick.” Kaplan remembered the term ‘brick’ referred to the small Delta team.
“Counting me, there are five of us, four men and one woman—“
“A woman? In Delta?” Kaplan was astonished. “I thought women were forbidden in Delta.”
“Most of the time that’s true but we’re called a funny platoon. Have you ever heard of that?”
Kaplan shook his head.
“A funny platoon is an intelligence gathering outfit, that’s our sole purpose.” Chase explained. “Almost always under cover. Here, we are college students under a foreign flag, Canada, studying architecture of the region. We’re all on a first name basis and never refer to each other by rank…ever.”
“Understood.” Kaplan said.
“We’ve only been here a day. We received the mission brief yesterday morning and we were on the go within three hours. We flew out of Oman and traveled to Aden and have been awaiting the arrival of our college professor — namely you.”
“College professor, eh.” Kaplan smiled.
“I have to be honest, the brick’s been a little nervous about you. Rumors. We’ve had a couple of unpleasant experiences with Clandestine Services before.” Chase grinned. “You being Delta will help put their minds at ease. Let’s go.”
Kaplan followed Chase into the safe house where three young men were playing cards while a short young woman stood watch. Barely five feet tall with dirty blonde hair, she wore sweat pants, flip-flops, and a t-shirt that read, I’m Not Short, I’m Fun Size—not what Kaplan was expecting. Certainly not fitting the mold Kaplan had envisioned of the Delta Force team.
“Look who I found.” Chase said. “Professor Kaplan just informed me he’s a fellow alumni.”
Kaplan pulled up his sleeve revealing his Delta tattoo.
The four soldiers smiled.
Chase introduced Kaplan to the members of the brick. He pointed to the woman. “She thinks she runs the place.”
“Don’t listen to him, Mr. Kaplan—“
“Gregg.” Kaplan corrected.
“Professor.” The woman paused until Kaplan grasped the protocol. “I only try to keep the boys focused.”
“Believe me, she’s got her work cut out for her.” Chase said. “Don’t let size fool you though — there’s a lot of fire in that small package.”
Someone had prepared a meal and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. “Do you mind?” Kaplan inhaled his food, washing it down with three cups of coffee. When he finished eating he looked up and all eyes were focused on him. The short woman was smiling.
Chase pointed to a door. “You'll bunk in there. The room’s empty so you won’t be disturbed when the team rotates watches. Take the one on the right.” He pointed to the woman. “She’ll grab the bunk on the left in a few hours. We lock up at ten and lights out at eleven. We’re just outside the al-Rawdah district — it’s dangerous for Americans here so we keep guard all night.”
“But we’re Canadians.” Kaplan said in jest.
“Doesn’t matter, all Westerners are the enemy here. And we’re always faced with some element of danger.”
“Then, I’ll take a watch too.” Kaplan said.
“Not tonight. You’ve been awake a long time. Get some sleep. You can pull a watch tomorrow night if you’d like.”
Chase pointed to another door with a crescent moon sign hanging from the door. “The outhouse is over there.”
“Outhouse?” Kaplan asked.
“Okay, it’s not a real outhouse, but the facilities are somewhat…primitive. You know, third world country and all.”
Kaplan laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
“One more thing.” Chase patted his sidearm. “Keep your weapon within arm’s reach at all times. If someone yells, get ready for action.”
CHAPTER 10
Jake swallowed the last bite of his t-bone steak, folded his napkin, and tucked it under the edge of his plate. He leaned back in his chair. “Now that was a good steak.”
“I didn’t think you’d be disappointed.” Bentley smiled.
“So what’s next? How long do we wait?”
“Relax, Jake. It won’t be much longer.” Bentley said. He pushed his plate to the side and drank the last of his iced tea.
“Sir? Why all the secrecy and cryptic answers? Who is this guy?”
“Jake, let me ask you something. How many surveillance cameras have you noticed?”
Jake studied the room. Glancing at the rough-hewn beams, the antler lights hanging from the ceilings, the pictures and paintings mounted on the walls. After a few seconds he said, “I don’t see any.”