That puzzled Remington. Obviously Felix didn’t understand everything about the satellite system’s capabilities. How had the man gotten access to them, when he didn’t even know what they could do? Unless he really was just an emissary for Nicolae Carpathia and not an equal at all.
“The satellites have thermographic and low-light capabilities,”
Remington said.
“You’ll be able to see in the dark.”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.” Felix walked away then, scanning the other screens the computer intelligence teams kept watch over. Many of the screens were keyed in on the Syrian encampment on the Turkish side of the border. Very little movement showed there.
Still other screens displayed world news, especially from the stations reporting on Sanliurfa’s plight. The city and her defenders hadn’t exactly captured the eye of the world. The big news story was still the global disappearances and all the confusion that had ensued. But it seemed that a number of channels out there followed the war stories.
Remington glanced at his watch. Alpha and Bravo were due to deploy in two more minutes. He swept the nearby monitors and spotted a story currently being carried on the BBC. The news report bore the outline of the Turkish nation as well as the red flag with its crescent moon and single star.
The reporter’s name was Sid Wright. Remington recognized the man at once as one of the media personnel inside the city. He’d seen him a few times at press conferences and briefings.
Crossing the room, Remington picked up the headset that connected him to the audio portion of the broadcast. He glanced down at the private manning the computer. “Are you taping this?” Remington asked.
The private nodded. “Yes, sir. Anything coming out of Sanliurfa we download and burn to VCD for you.”
Remington sometimes reviewed the media stories in his private quarters, though he hadn’t been able to do that much lately.
“—claim that their brother, Abu Alam, was abducted at gunpoint by a group of American soldiers,” Sid Wright said.
The screen changed to the interior of a building that had evidently suffered bomb damage. Cracks splintered all the Sheetrock walls, and the windows were broken out.
“They came and got Abu,” the young man dressed in Bedouin robes said. Only his dark eyes showed on the screen. “Those men—those Americans—” he added something in his own language that could only be extremely derogatory—“they came to get my cousin. They killed three of my family. Then they took Abu.” He faced the camera. “When we find these men, Allah grant us the satisfaction, we will kill them like dogs.”
For a moment, the memory of Abu Alam in the basement pleading for his life haunted Remington. Nausea swirled in his stomach. Then he pushed that weakness away, telling himself he had to concentrate on the mission at hand. That’s done, he told himself grimly. Blow it off and get on with the show. The guy was scum and deserved to die. And if he hadn’t died, your Rangers would never have had the chance they do out there now. You did the right thing.
But he couldn’t help thinking that if Felix had reached him a little earlier with the satellite information, then Abu Alam wouldn’t have had to die. The black-market chief had been captured, but he’d had no idea why, until Remington had shown him the map and started asking questions.
Fate, Remington thought. It was just meant to be, and it’s better it was Abu’s bad luck than ours. We’re trying to do something right in this world.
The on-screen scene shifted back to Sid Wright standing in front of one of the bombed-out buildings near Sanliurfa’s downtown.
“How much truth is there to this accusation, Sid?” the off-screen anchor asked.
“At this point, I don’t know. It’s a rather interesting story, and there appear to be many witnesses to back up these people’s claims. I’m going to follow up on it and will let you know.”
Remington made a mental note to talk to Hardin and find out what he’d done with Abu Alam’s body. Reporters sniffing around after the man changed things. The situation had changed from don’t-want-to-know to need-to-know.
He put the earpiece down and checked his watch. Less than a minute remained. He glanced at the wall screen, aware that Felix was roving around the command center and chatting with people manning the equipment. It seemed like the man had gotten to know everyone in just minutes.
The headset beeped for Remington’s attention.
“This had better be important,” Remington warned.
“Sir, I think it is, sir,” Corporal Donleavy of the security detail outside the command center announced. “I’ve got a man here, sir, who claims to be with the CIA. He says his name is Alexander Cody, sir.”
“I know Agent Cody,” Remington said. “What does he want?”
“To talk to you, sir.”
“Inform Agent Cody that at this juncture talking with me is impossible.” “Yes, sir.”
In the background, Cody raised his voice and said, “You tell Captain Remington that if he doesn’t talk to me, he’s going to be talking to his superior officers. No one manhandles my agents. You tell him that I’ll have his—”
“Corporal,” Remington interrupted, shocked. He’d taken no action against the CIA agents since returning Agent Winters to them the day before. Harsh words had been exchanged then, but Cody hadn’t seemed as agitated as he was now.
“—roasting on a fire three feet high, and I’ll take a knife to his—”
“Yes, sir,” Donleavy answered.
“—and pull it out through—”
“Send Agent Cody in,” Remington said. “With adequate supervision.”
“Yes, sir.”
Remington closed the headset frequency. He glanced at the wall screen again, counting down in his mind and knowing Goose would have his troops going by the numbers.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six—
47 Klicks East of Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 0627 Hours
“—five,” Goose counted out, standing beside the CH-47D’s rear jump gate, “four, three, two, one! Go! Go!” He slapped the first Ranger standing in the jump line on the helmet.
The Ranger took a running start, arms wrapped around his chest pouch, and hurled himself through the jump gate. He fell through
