Pike described the farm and the intel he learned from the sister. Al-Diri had pulled three crews and three groups of pollos to a date farm when he learned Haddad and the two turds Stone and Pike dropped in the desert were missing. The farm amounted to a fortress crowded with the Syrian’s soldiers.
“Is Elvis there?”
“Won’t know until we get inside.”
Stone considered the farm as Pike had described it. Delta was all about hostage rescue and snatching bad guys. Jon knew this stuff inside out.
“Fifteen to eighteen gunned-up guards jammed up with a hundred fifty-plus friendlies is asking for collateral damage. It also ups our time on target.”
Time on target meant the time it would take to locate Cole and the kids once they entered the buildings, and get themselves out. The longer the time on target, the greater the risk. If you hung around long enough, you became part of the scenery.
Pike said, “How would you play it, no trade for Cole?”
“Trade for someone else. We have the sister, we use her. Give her to Sang Ki Park.”
“When?”
“Now. Drive the play. Push it so fast this prick doesn’t have time to think.”
“I’m listening.”
Jon Stone wheeled away, loving his plan so much he grinned from ear to ear. He was the best shit-hot troop at this stuff to ever grace the earth; none finer, none more deadly, ever! A man among men.
Nancie Stendahl
Stendahl sat in her rental until Jon Stone drove away, then walked briskly to the SRT van. She entered a world of muted red light through the rear door, and made her way past hanging gear to the electronics bay.
Mo Heedles said, “Hey, boss. Good work. We’re looking good.”
Mo was a large woman with short red hair, who hunched over a laptop computer. The computer was wired to the van’s onboard cell booster to ensure a strong signal.
Stendahl stood behind her to see the laptop’s screen, and watched a flashing black dot move away from the Sheriff’s Station on a street map.
“What’s our range on this?”
“Infinite? We bounce off cell towers. We can follow your boy no matter where he goes.”
Nancie Stendahl took out her cell, and phoned Tony Nakamura in Washington. Late there, but he was used to it.
“Tone, Nancie. I need two SRT teams and a helicopter staged by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow. Anywhere in the Palm Springs-Coachella area.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll advise when and where as I know.”
“Rog.”
Nancie put away her phone and watched the black dot. She didn’t care where it was going; only that she was present when it arrived.
45
Sang Ki Park
Wayward Palms Motel
Sang Ki Park followed the blond mercenary’s directions that morning, and found himself at a faded roadside motel between Indio and Coachella. The two-and-a-half-hour drive went quickly, and was ripe with the promise of salvation and vengeance. A successful recovery of their kidnapped workers would go far in restoring his uncle’s confidence. The recovery of the old man’s grandson would ensure his redemption.
The mercenary’s room was drab and dingy, but the surrounding desert was crisp with a lingering chill, and beautiful with a first kiss from the morning sun. Sang Ki Park felt honored to share in this moment. Especially with such a beautiful woman at his mercy.
“Are you comfortable?”
Megan Orlato said nothing until the blond man spoke Arabic.
“I’m fine, for Christ’s sake. Let’s get this the fuck over with.”
The mouth of a whore. She was sister, wife, and participant with the men who had stolen, tortured, and murdered Park’s workers.
Park, the woman, the crazy blond mercenary, and two Double Dragon soldiers were in the room. An additional twelve Double Dragon soldiers waited nearby in their cars. Park’s uncle, Young Min Park, who was Kwan Min Park’s grandfather, was driving out now, but would likely not arrive until after Kwan was recovered. This was as it should be. As the revered leader of Ssang Yong Pa, Young Min Park must be shielded from physical danger and legal prosecution. But the old man, like all old men, was weak in his feelings and hungry for the sight of his grandson.
The blond man with the spiky hair checked his watch.
“You good to go?”
Park kept his eyes on the woman, seated in a tattered chair with his men near at hand. The two mercenaries who worked with Mr. Cole had captured the bajadore ’s sister, and now wished to trade her for Park’s stolen workers. The blond mercenary had explained this plan earlier that morning.
“Yes. I am good.”
“You remember what to say, or you want to go over it again?”
“I am good.”
“No negotiations. No delays.”
“I am good.”
The blond man turned to the woman, and spoke Arabic until she interrupted.
“Speak English. Jesus.”
“I don’t care what you say, but you have to say something. If you clam up, I’ll make you.”
“Fuck you.”
The blond man dialed the phone. It was her cell taken from her home and delivered by Mr. Pike. It contained her brother’s direct number, stored in the memory under “Bobby.” Using this phone was important, for Ghazi al-Diri would only answer if he recognized her incoming number.
The blond man listened for the ring, then passed the phone to the woman.
She closed her eyes as if steeling herself, then spoke.
“It’s me. I’m sorry, baby, they got me. No, this Korean dude. Some guy pulled me out of the house last night and gave me to this Korean. They killed Dennis. Dennis is dead-”
The blond man twisted the phone from her hand, and passed it to Park.
“Your sister is the property of Ssang Yong Pa. You have twenty-six of our people. We will have them back in this way.”
Park told Ghazi al-Diri where the trade would take place, when, and how it would happen, exactly as the mercenary instructed. There was no room for discussion.
“Say yes, she will live. Say no, you will hear her die now on this phone. You will then kill my people, but this is a loss we can accept. We will hunt you forever.”
Park listened for several moments, then repeated the instructions.
“You must say yes now.”
He listened a moment longer.
“Very well. You must reimburse ten thousand American dollars for each of the three dead. Do not deviate from these instructions. Do not be late.”
Park pressed the power button to terminate the call, and returned the phone to the mercenary.
“He has agreed.”
