“I want you here for this,” he said. “Let’s gather in the War Room, where we will all keep our hands to ourselves.”
Boxers nearly vibrated with anger, but when the tension left his shoulders, Jonathan knew that he was back with the program.
As they filed into the War Room, Venice pulled Jonathan to the side. “I’ve never seen Boxers like that.”
“Did you find the video?”
She clearly wanted more, but knew better than to push. “Cued up and ready to go,” she said.
Tension remained heavy in the air as they filed into the War Room. Jonathan wasn’t sure where the nickname for the space originated, but given the activities that were often planned in this space, it was apropos. Detailed in teak and mahogany and featuring calfskin-soft chairs, the War Room offered all of the latest in communication and presentation technology. On the far end, Venice had already retracted the panels in the wall that housed the 106- inch projection screen, where the frozen image of the terrified Nasbes stared at them, frozen in time. He’d already seen it, of course, but it was time to pay attention.
He asked, “Colonel Rollins, would you like to catch us up on what you know before we start watching?” By using his official title, Jonathan hoped to defuse the tension.
Rollins leaned forward and cleared his throat. “The people you’re going to see are Christyne Nasbe and her son Ryan, sixteen. We don’t know how they ended up in the custody of terrorists, but we suspect that they were somehow taken after the Wilson Bridge incident last night. They live on Bragg when Boomer is home, but they’re apparently up here visiting her sister in Mount Vernon.”
“Does Boomer know the family has been taken?”
“He was the one to tell us. He found out purely by chance. He thought he recognized them despite the masks, and when he tried to establish contact with them, he couldn’t. They weren’t at the address where they were supposed to be staying, and both of their cell phones were turned off. We did a little checking and discovered that the SIM cards had either been disabled or removed.”
Jonathan asked, “Is he just going by the voice?”
“That was the first thing that caught his attention. But then he looked closer. It turns out that the son, Ryan, has a birthmark on his belly. It shows on the video.”
Gail asked, “Why are you coming to Security Solutions? A case like this has FBI written all over it.”
Rollins hesitated. “I’d rather we discuss this in private, Digger.”
Jonathan shook his head. “My team gets to know what I know.”
The colonel took a moment to think it through. “Here’s the thing,” he said at last. “The FBI is a civilian agency. I’m sure they’re fine at what they do, but they’re pretty damned distracted right now, and we want the Nasbes’ safety to be the first and only priority, not just one of many.”
Gail started to object, but Rollins held up a hand to signal that he wasn’t done yet.
“There’s also the Unit connection. The FBI can’t know that, and I think it’s clear that the kidnappers don’t know it, or they would have mentioned something about it in the video.”
Gail didn’t get it. “And why can’t the FBI know?”
“Because the FBI is packed with unnamed sources,” Rollins answered. “Deep Throat, anyone? What isn’t leaked to the press is revealed though congressional hearings. I owe Boomer more than that.”
Jonathan nodded to Venice, who pushed the buttons to make the lights dim and the picture come to life.
The setting was all too familiar, although Jonathan wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen it staged with multiple hostages. The boy, on the left of the screen, was shirtless and wore what appeared to be blue jeans. The mother wore a nondescript black-on-black outfit that looked oddly stretched out and disheveled.
“Do you see the birthmark?” Rollins asked.
Venice froze the frame.
Rollins pointed from his seat. “Look there on his stomach. Just to the left of his navel. Our left, his right.”
Jonathan leaned forward, as if by shortening the distance by five inches he could see the image more clearly.
“I see it,” Gail said. “Looks like a little check mark.”
“That’s it exactly,” Rollins said.
Jonathan took it on faith. One of these days, he was going to have to get glasses.
The picture had been framed tightly so that none of the captors’ faces showed. In fact all they could see of the captors were legs wearing black pants-Jonathan counted four pairs-and the muzzles of the AKs that were resting against each of the victims’ skulls.
Christyne Nasbe spoke for both of them. As she did, Arabic subtitles crawled along the bottom of the frame. “People of America,” she began. From the first words, she sounded as if she was reading, but how could that be, with a hood over her face? “We and our satanic government have brought suffering to the peaceful people of Islam for many years. We have murdered tens of thousands of innocent children while they slept in their beds, and we have martyred countless holy warriors as they fight every day only to create a world that will live in peace, free of the sloth and the wickedness brought by our Western ways. We need to realize that we can never win.
“This week, the Army of Allah began a new holy war that will bring you to your knees. They are many thousands strong, and they have already begun their battle, first in Kansas City, and on Monday night in Washington, D.C. This morning, they took the battle to our children, killing our youth as we have killed so many of theirs. The killing will continue until the United States government apologizes to Islamic people everywhere and withdraws all U.S. forces from the Middle East and Afghanistan. If an announcement to that effect is not made by next Wednesday, one week and one day from today, my son and I will be martyred for everyone to see.”
The instant before the image clicked off, the boy’s voice said, “Martyred means murdered in English.”
CHAPTER NINE
They watched the video three more times before Jonathan asked Venice to freeze it on the image of the huddled captives.
Jonathan turned to the colonel. “I understand that you want me and my team to rescue the Nasbes, but I’m still confused,” he said. “This video is going to go viral. Even with their faces blacked out, somebody’s going to recognize them. Neighbors are going to call. Distant relatives are going to call. What do my team and I bring to the table that you’re not going to get from the authorities?”
Rollins shifted in his chair, recrossing his legs, one over the other. “Two things we need to talk about,” he said. “First, we’ve already reached out to the community at Bragg. We’ve asked them not to forward any theories on the family’s identity, and we’re confident that they’ll understand. Ditto the immediate family. We’ve let them know that the best way to bring their loved ones home safely is for them to rally around each other and say nothing.”
“Surely someone’s going to say something,” Gail said.
Jonathan shook his head. “You haven’t witnessed the community built up around the Unit,” he said. “They understand the importance of secrecy. Even the kids. Back in the old days, we used to exclude the family from almost everything for fear of word leaking out to the bad guys. But the toll was too great on families.” He gestured with his hands as if to say, ta-da.
Boxers agreed. “We opened up a lot of the details to the families, and the result was all good-specifically because everyone understood the stakes.”
Rollins went on, “I sense that you’re looking at the equation from the wrong side. It’s not about what you bring. It’s about what I bring.” He cast another uncomfortable glance at the others in the room.
Jonathan waited him out.
Rollins sighed. “Look, you’re not a naive guy. The new administration has rewritten all the rules. As a guy who’s been in the service for more than a few years, I’m more feared by them than trusted. These days, you either toe the line, or you tour a jail cell. The old national security shortcuts just don’t exist anymore. But you know how the community works. We look after our own, yet Posse Comitatus forbids the military from engaging in domestic law- enforcement activities. Other laws and executive orders prohibit domestic activity from other intelligence organizations. No eavesdropping without warrants, no questioning without probable cause, no midnight rescues without due process.”
