like a goat, dirty and bloody, his eyes closed. “What happened?” he asked Hafiz.
“This little man escaped last night and killed some of our people before being captured. He was once very important, but something happened in his head.”
Al-Masri bent over to put his face near that of the engineer. “That is a shame. From everything we had heard, the man was brilliant.” He tapped the chief engineer on the skull. “Can you hear me in there? You did some wonderful work. Even the Commander knew about you, and sends his compliments.”
The dark eyes of al-Attas flew open, so wide that the NMO inspector stepped back in surprise. The whites shone bright around the pupils, which darted everywhere, taking in his surroundings. “I’m thirsty,” he said weakly.
Hafiz moved closer. “Don’t be fooled by this mild manner. He is a heartless murderer when the other personality, the one he calls the Djinn, seizes him. Then he is uncontrollable.”
“Sergeant Hafiz! My friend!” The grating voice of al-Attas grew stronger. “Why am I still a prisoner?”
“See?” Hafiz said. “He remembers nothing of his murderous actions.”
The inspectors gathered around, examining the engineer as if he were a specimen on a laboratory table. “So he cannot be used at all?”
“No. The breaks in memory and behavior have become too erratic and sharp and are increasing in frequency. In addition to the danger he poses to anyone around him, his work would be suspect, too.”
“What a shame,” said al-Masri. “
The inspectors, having seen enough, moved away at Hafiz’s suggestion that the infirmary staff guide them around the elaborately equipped medical clinic. Wounded fighters might receive attention on the operating tables, but the infirmary had been specifically built to serve the special needs of Commander Kahn.
Hafiz glanced back and saw the hot eyes of the Djinn boring into him. He filled a cup with water and helped the bound man sip the liquid. Then he laid the head back down, pulled a cloth screen around the bed, and returned to the tour.
“When you’ve seen enough here, we can go to the control room, and then the communications suite, so you can see the heart of this place,” he suggested. “Then we can do the tunnels, the living quarters, and the individual defense systems.”
The inspectors moved to their carts, none giving a second thought back at the screened-off chief engineer. He was already dead to them. The infirmary was deemed more than adequate for the needs of the Commander and his senior staff.
BETH LEDFORD’S HEART WAS pounding so hard it seemed that everyone around could hear the thumps. She kept her eyes glued on Swanson’s back, not the targets, and he moved like a panther through the half-buried boulders and over tree stumps, silent and swift and determined, as they closed on the campsite. Her CAR-15 was pressed against her shoulder, the safety off. Coming up on sleeping men who were about to die was a lot different than shooting a boat from a helicopter. It didn’t seem right. Maybe they should just capture them instead. She instantly banished those thoughts. Fairness has nothing to do with it, Kyle had told her during their brief training.
Suddenly, she was totally in the moment, and nothing else existed in her life. Back a few steps, confidence had replaced nervousness, and her training kicked in. She knew she could depend on the gunny to do his job, and she was as good with a rifle as he: Annie Oakley in combat boots. In the zone. Can’t miss.
Kyle slowed and stopped, and she came up beside him. “On my count,” he said quietly into the mike. Both had their guns up, and the flames of the fire glowed on the sleeping faces. “Three… two… one…”
They fired simultaneously, with no more sound than a pair of cricket chirps, and two bodies on the ground twitched under the impact. By then, they had tracked to their second targets and squeezed off another pair of silenced shots, and they both hit the standing man at the same time, and he bucked backward and fell away from the fire. Five men lay dead in less than three seconds.
Swanson moved forward, dropping his rifle, which dangled from a D-ring on his harness, while drawing his silenced Colt .45 from its holster. He stalked into the semicircle of downed men and fired one shot into each head. The center mass hits had all been accurate, but the head shots provided total insurance. He put the pistol away, then unsnapped his canteen and took a long drink of water.
Beth stepped near the fire and felt its warmth. She had been so wrapped up in the mission that she had not noticed the night had gotten chilly. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing to get warm.
“Grab one of these blankets if you’re cold,” Swanson said. “Matter of fact, let’s take several of them to throw over any more cameras that pop up.” He knelt and rolled a body over, snatching out the bloodstained blanket beneath it.
Beth balked at the idea, and Swanson threw the blanket at her. “Use it!” he snapped. “It’s too late for second thoughts, Coastie. We are in a fight now, and the bad guys know where we are. The blankets can also cut down on our heat signatures if they are using thermal sights. Get down here and check them for anything else we can use. We’ve got no more than a few minutes, then we head up the trail, so get your ass in gear.”
HAFIZ DEFTLY STEERED THE cart down the broad light blue hallway that was lined on each upper corner with fluorescent lights. Color-coded arrows and signs were painted on the walls at every intersection and branch to guide traffic, and he followed a wide green line that led to the control room. The guard at the sealed door snapped to attention.
So far, Hafiz had no doubt that Ayman al-Masri of the NMO was impressed with the tunnel complex, and he had yet to show him the weapons, the mess facilities, the troop barracks, the repair shops, and the private living quarters. “After this stop, we’ll take a break and go to the dining hall. I’m certain you and your men could use some hot tea and some food after your long journey.”
“How much more time will the official tour take?” asked the al Qaeda man.
“Another hour or so. Then I’ll just leave the carts with you, along with a guide, and you go anywhere you want, ask questions of anyone. There is no time limit and no restrictions as far as I am concerned.” Hafiz swung the cart into a tight little circle and stopped. The three other carts, two men in each, followed his example.
Hafiz stepped into a white square painted on the floor outside the control room and pushed a button to activate the entrance sequence. A shimmering bright white halo appeared overhead and slowly descended all the way to the floor, taking biometric and facial recognition data, running it through the computer, confirming the findings, and changing to green before snapping off. The door unlocked automatically, and Hafiz pulled it open.
Al-Masri was astonished when he stepped inside, and absently reached out and touched one of the many racks of equipment. His team members came in behind him and gaped like children. The room had the look of an empty financial brokerage, with large screens on the walls, desktop computers, indirect overhead lighting, and several chairs in low cubicles filled with electronic displays. One bigger chair was perched on risers near the back, with a pair of screens right in front of it, a joystick on each arm, and a keyboard beside a panel of switches and knobs. The air-conditioning hummed in its ongoing fight to control the heat churned out by the electronics within the enclosed space.
“What does it do?” he finally asked.
“Everything,” replied Hafiz. “I don’t understand even half of it, but from that big chair, the chief engineer had everything at his fingertips. Watching him work it was like seeing a conjurer doing the impossible. Despite the wonder, these are not toys for children but a real war-fighting center. Cameras and sensors everywhere, map overlays, holographic projections, and automatic weapons adjustments. Just imagine; one man holding off anything the enemy could throw at him, and doing it in air-conditioned comfort. A bomb hit up top might not even be felt down here. Giant springs beneath the floor would soak up the impact.”
“Then why is it not filled with technicians right now?”
“Well, the truth is that the chief engineer did not think about other people running his system. He must be replaced before it can be truly functioning. Islamabad is putting together a qualified team; no one man could do what he did. They will be transferred in to take final control within a week.”
