“Carter Dawes here. How many are you?”
Marc tried to add the sums, but could not. “No idea!”
Duboe replied for them, “The three choppers should be enough.”
Claire Reeves came limping toward them, a small girl cradled in her arms. Marc asked, “Are you injured?” He could hardly see her features for all the grime.
Claire smiled and shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with me that a long bath and a hot meal won’t cure.”
“We’ve got a wounded man in here.” He took the child and helped the nurse climb on board before handing the little one in after her. “Carter, we need battlefield dressings.”
The pilot hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “In the net bag behind my seat.”
“I found them,” Claire Reeves shouted over the sound of the rotors.
Marc called, “Fareed, count your men!”
“We are all here!”
“Josh, Duboe!”
“Good to go!” Josh leaped into the chopper, spotted Hannah Brimsley, and flew across the crowded space. Hannah kept one arm around the elderly woman and wrapped the other around Josh’s neck.
The last man in was Duboe, streaked with dust and what appeared to be dried blood. Marc helped him aboard, gave the pilot an all clear, then asked, “You hit?”
“Scratches.” Duboe shifted his pack around front and drew out a radio-controlled detonator. “Josh, we ready?”
The Ranger slid back across the chopper floor to join them. “Should be. I planted every satchel bomb you gave me.”
Duboe handed Marc the black rectangle. “My orders were to observe and report. You hit the switch.”
Marc turned to where Alex leaned against the rear gunnel. He held out the detonator. “I believe this honor should be yours, friend.”
Alex stared at him a moment, then reached over and took the equipment. He flipped open the trigger guard.
Duboe yelled, “Fire in the hole!”
Alex hit the button.
For a long instant, nothing happened. Then the entire mountain appeared to shrug its shoulders.
Fire shot from caves just below the ridge, beasts of flames and fury. The air heaved and rocked the choppers. The three machines tilted away from the blast, clawing for height. Marc felt a sudden surge of heat through the open door. It felt wonderful.
When the choppers stabilized, they looked out over smoldering ruins. The valley was filled with new rubble, and the training field was no more.
Marc turned back to find Hamid watching him over the nurse’s shoulder. His face was covered with grime, his wound now packed in bandages, but his eyes were alert. “Is good, yes?”
“It’s excellent.” Marc leaned back in, satisfied. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
O ne glance at the ambassador’s pages was enough for Sameh to know he could not connect swiftly with these people.
Leyla drove Sameh to the office, which granted him time to study the list and let his mind roam. The information was written in a feminine script, with large looped letters and bright blue ink. The names came straight out of the headlines and the nightly television newscasts. Each had two addresses, political and private, and a multitude of phone numbers. Sameh shook his head. Such high ranking officials never revealed their private residences, much less their personal phone numbers. The measure of trust in simply handing Sameh this list was extraordinary.
Sameh knew he had no choice. Midway to the office, he took out his phone and a card from his pockets. He drew a single shaky breath, then dialed the number.
Jaffar answered instantly. “I have been expecting your call.”
“I need your help, Imam.”
“No, no, my trusted friend. I am sorry, but you are mistaken. It is Iraq who needs yours. Now tell me what we must do.”
– – Sameh’s secretary had both the television and the radio going when he entered his office. The senior imam’s message was scheduled to go out in two hours, to be carried live on national television and two radio stations. Jaffar arrived while they were still in the front office, listening to the excited newscaster describe the mystery and rumors surrounding the imam’s unexpected address. Sameh asked, “Should you not be with your father?”
“I was present yesterday afternoon when my father taped the message. I was with him last night for the meeting of his council. I stood beside my father when he instructed the vizier to step down and return to the mosque.” Jaffar smiled his thanks for Aisha’s offer of tea. “I was there as my father signed the documents formally signaling his retirement, and the passing of his mantle to me.”
Sameh needed a moment to find his voice. “Who else knows?”
“My father’s former vizier, his council and senior advisers, the team who taped his final official talk. And now you.”
“Please accept my heartfelt congratulations.”
“Let us ensure there is a country for us both to serve,” Jaffar replied. “How do we proceed?”
Sameh unfolded the ambassador’s list and handed it over. “How many of these people do you know?”
Jaffar scanned swiftly. “All of them.”
“Then I suggest Leyla and Aisha begin placing the calls. You need speak a few words only. Hand the phone on to me. I will pass on the ambassador’s message.”
Jaffar lifted the pages. “He has asked your help with this task?”
“This morning.”
“May I ask the content of his message?”
“Hold fast. Do not give up hope.”
Jaffar smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”
“I am in your debt.”
“In the service to our nation, my friend, there is no such thing.”
The calls were completed in less than one hour. The rumors of the imam’s retirement were already spreading. Mentioning Jaffar’s name drew every person on the ambassador’s list instantly to the phone. When Sameh passed on the ambassador’s curt communication, the response was almost universal. The men and women all took a long breath, then sighed with its release, as though the emotions they endured could be hidden no longer. All but two of them ended the conversation with the same request.
Will you come?
– – Sameh had never visited Parliament. To enter through the processional main doors, with the imam and their bodyguards, should have made for a moment of awe. But as they were mounting the grand front steps, his phone rang. When he saw the readout, his hands shook as badly as his voice. “Forgive me. I must take this.”
Jaffar correctly read his demeanor. “You have news?”
In reply, Sameh opened the phone. “Marc?”
“It’s done.”
The news robbed his legs of strength. Sameh sank down on the top step, startling his entourage. He waved the guards back and said, “You are safe?”
“I’m good. Hamid caught one in the shoulder, but he’s stable.”
The man’s calm tone did much to ease his tremors. “The children?”
“We have them. And Taufiq. And Alex.” The helicopter’s thunder chopped his words into tight fragments.
