“You must stay vigilant,” Fazil said. “Nothing ever runs smoothly—at least, nothing ever runs as smoothly as you’d like.”
“I expect disruptions any day now and am ready for whatever might be thrown my way.”
“Excellent. You must be on guard. Our entire mission is counting on you. Once you remove their leader, we can begin to move into phase two of our plan.”
“How is your training coming along? Have you been able to practice as you had hoped?”
“I believe I’m ready. The past few days I have fine tuned my skills, though I’m not sure anything can prepare me fully for the moment.”
“I know you will be ready. Keep me informed on any changes. I’ll send you the details for the next meeting with your liaison there.”
Fazil was proud of Nawabi and the journey he began after his brother was killed at the hands of Brady Hawk. Nawabi approached Fazil about training for one of Al Hasib’s special missions. At first, Fazil wasn’t sure if Nawabi simply wanted revenge—something Fazil would certainly never hold against anyone—or if he genuinely wanted to help the cause. After a few months of watching Nawabi grow from a fighter in the trenches to one of the best shots with an RPG in the ranks of Al Hasib, the answer was clear.
Fazil always had several missions running, some active while others were of the long-range variety. Sleeper cells, deep cover, infiltrating the U.S. military ranks—they were the kind of operations he needed to prepare for in case he had the opportunity to strike swiftly. Nawabi had been preparing to put his training into action for more than six months, and Fazil had little doubt that his most skilled shooter was prepared. On top of Nawabi’s excellent ability to hit targets with his RPG, he was also a solid marksman. He regularly hit his target from 800 yards, which was enough to help Al Hasib advance as it attempted to besiege several strongholds in Iraq and Afghanistan. Nawabi had thrown a few mundane afternoons in several villages into complete chaos based on his long-range shooting ability. Fazil always preferred the silent assassin, though such a tactic wasn’t always the best. Nawabi’s ability helped Fazil cover both options with one soldier.
Fazil said a quick prayer underneath his breath for Nawabi. The last thing Fazil wanted was to lose his prized asset before Nawabi ever got off a shot. But Fazil knew Nawabi was as good as gone the moment he left for the U.S. If Nawabi did his job, he’d die a martyr’s death, joining his brother in eternity. It was what Fazil wanted, but he couldn’t deny a soldier unafraid to stare death in the face for Al Hasib’s jihad cause.
Fazil paused for a moment before hanging up, adding one final instruction.
“When you meet your contact, control yourself,” Fazil said. “I know you’re going to want to kill him, but please refrain. Your mission will be in vain if you attempt anything, plus you will have to deal with my wrath should you return.”
“Your wrath? Don’t you want him out of the picture?” Nawabi asked.
“I want him eliminated almost more than anything—but I want to be the one to do it. If you bring him back with you, make sure he is still kicking. If not, there will be serious repercussions for your actions. Is that clear?”
“I understand,” Nawabi said.
“I didn’t ask if you understand. I want to know if you think my instructions are clear—and that you plan to abide by them?”
Fazil waited out an awkward moment of silence before Nawabi finally spoke.
“They are clear, sir, and I will abide by them.”
“Good, that is what I was hoping to hear,” Fazil said before he hung up the phone.
I have my own special plans for Brady Hawk.
CHAPTER 15
Zagros Mountains, Iraq
ALEX WAS CERTAIN BLUNT could hear her stomach growling. Hours had passed since they last receive rations of any kind, much less a drink of water. So torturous was the lack of liquids that Alex eyed the puddle in the cell floor and licked her lips.
If only I could get close enough to that water . . .
The shuffling of feet in the distance snapped Alex out of her delusional state. She hoped that the guard heading toward them had something for them to eat and drink.
“You ready?” whispered Blunt.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.
“Just be careful, okay? If you don’t have a good opportunity now, you can try again later. That device is our lone silver bullet at this point.”
“One we need to fire right away if we’re gonna have a chance.”
“Just be patient.”
Alex sighed and chewed on her lip. She was glad she wasn’t alone. Having Blunt in the cell helped her not lose her mind—and her patience. She knew he was right, but she didn’t like waiting, especially in a situation like this. Escaping her shackles was her top priority because eventually Fazil would turn his men loose on her. And that wasn’t something she wanted to experience.
The guard jangled his keys, taking his time to find the right one before inserting it into the lock. With a loud echo, the deadbolt clicked open and the hinges creaked as the guard pushed his way into the room.
“Have food for you,” he said in his broken English. “Hungry?”
Alex nodded and then glanced at her shackles.
“Oh, I help you.”
He set down the tray of food in the center of the room, directly in the path of the dripping pipe. Alex watched as water splattered on the food. In most cases, her stomach would’ve turned at such a sight, but she shrugged it off, too hungry to care.
The guard fiddled with her chains for a few moments until he finally unlocked them, allowing her to move freely again. Her eyes met his, and he tapped the gun holstered in his belt. He then wagged his finger, his insinuation clear. She nodded and shook her hands for a few moments
