‘Two million apiece.’ Crawford looked over to Hazo and whistled.
‘Tax-free,’ Jason said, to rub it in. The veins on Crawford’s forehead instantly bulged, looked ready to pop.
‘You’re a disgrace, Yaeger.’ The colonel’s words seethed with loathing. ‘Nothing but a sellout. And just remember that it was the US marines who pulled that cocksucker out from the cave. That’s the story everyone here knows. So I wouldn’t suggest spending your money just yet.’
‘I’ve already sent plenty of video and pictures back to my office … make a nice documentary about the six- month manhunt that led us all here. Not to mention all the thrilling images of my unit’s ambush, which feature this guy’s ugly mug all over them,’ he said, pointing to Al-Zahrani. ‘Funny thing is, there aren’t any marines in those shots. So don’t you worry about us,’ Jason said, grinning smugly.
And GSC’s home office was equally keen to cash in on the bounty since its contract with the Department of Defense included a sliding scale of bonus payments for terrorism’s most wanted targets. At the top of that list, Al- Zahrani fetched a 50-million-dollar kicker. There was even a chance that a few million more could still be had from the four militants yet to be extracted from the cave. After Lillian saw the pictures Jason had transmitted to her e- mail, she’d been fully behind Jason’s requests - even commissioned a private jet to take Flaherty to Vegas. The almighty dollar was still a potent motivator. Though financial enticements didn’t factor well into the military’s strict moral code, they worked wonders in the enterprising private sector.
Levin pulled a blood-filled syringe out from a thick vein snaking up Al-Zahrani’s forearm. ‘We’ll need to lay him down.’
Crawford took a few seconds to decompress before saying, ‘Fine. Set up a cot for him. But you be sure to hang an American flag next to him. Remind him that he’s ours now. When you’re done, I want you to set up a video camera in here too.’ He turned his attention back to Jason, who still wore a smug grin. ‘All right, Yaeger. Time for you and your boys to earn your money. This cocksucker may not be able to hear us, but his hands are working just fine. So we’ll do this with writing.’ He pointed to Hazo and said, ‘He stays with me, just in case Al-Zahrani decides to scribble some Arabic. You speak Arabic, isn’t that right, Haji?’
Hazo nodded. ‘I do, Colonel.’
‘Of course you do. You’re no millionaire yet, so go fetch a pen and paper. We’ve got work to do.’
Hazo paced to the other side of the tent and began rummaging.
‘In the meantime, Yaeger, we’ve got another goddamn tunnel to unclog. Four more gophers to pull out … and God knows what else. And we still need to figure out what in hell blew up in that cave. Wrangle up your boys and get working on that. I’ll have Staff Sergeant Richards help you.’
‘I’d prefer to assist you in questioning the prisoner, sir.’
‘Don’t wet your panties, Yaeger. We both know he’s not going to give us anything useful. If he does, your Kurd can fill you in later.’
Jason knew that Crawford was right on both points. ‘Fine. But now that we’ve confirmed his identity’ - he tilted his head to the prisoner - ‘I need your assurance that backup is on the way. We can’t risk losing him now.’
‘Don’t cry … You’ll get your money—’
‘I’m not worried about the
The two guards exchanged nervous glances. Even Al-Zahrani took interest.
Crawford’s baleful eyes went wide. ‘I don’t take kindly to insubordination, soldier,’ he hissed through clamped teeth.
Jason stepped closer, so that his nose practically touched the colonel’s. ‘I don’t take kindly to incompetence,’ he rebuffed confidently. ‘Fuck this up and you’ll be facing a shit storm in front of a military tribunal. Plenty of men here are witness to how you’re handling this. I’m
Without breaking eye contact, Crawford plucked his phone from Jason’s hand. He cocked his head sideways. ‘That’ll be all, Sergeant.’
‘Make the call,’ Jason repeated. He took two steps back and paused. Before he turned to leave, he added, ‘And just so we’re clear, Crawford: I’m not your soldier.’
44
Though Jason wasn’t fond of Crawford’s leadership style, he had to admit that the colonel’s platoon was a well-oiled machine. In less than fifteen minutes after relaying Crawford’s command to Staff Sergeant Nolan Richards, a human chain of twenty marines outfitted with respirators stretched through the cave’s passages and began ferrying out the blast debris. Camel, Jam and Meat joined them. The remainder of Crawford’s platoon went about securing the camp.
With Crawford focused on interrogating Al-Zahrani and the platoon set to work, Jason was intent on having a closer look at the cave’s burial chamber. He grabbed a flashlight and filed past the marines lined up in the entry tunnel. At the T, he split right from the marines and moved swiftly through the winding passage.
Drawing lessons from the PackBot’s earlier exploration, he tried to avoid the tunnel branches that led to dead ends. But the further he progressed into the mountain, nothing differentiated one passage from the next. Twice he forked off down passages terminating in solid rock and had to backtrack. Each time, he pulled out his knife and scraped an ‘X’ into the wall on either side of the passage.
Along the way, he managed to locate one of the surveillance cameras the bot had detected in the ceiling. Surprisingly, there was no visible wiring. Surrounded on all sides by rock, wireless signals would be near impossible. So where did the wiring run to? He didn’t have time to investigate the matter. He had to keep moving before Richards came looking for him.
The subterranean atmosphere was completely disorienting; the air cool and loamy, thin on oxygen. It felt as if the earth had swallowed him whole. Imagining Al-Zahrani groping through the pitch black with no hope of escape gave Jason bitter satisfaction. It was hard to believe that after so many months chasing ghosts, the A-list madman was now their prisoner - bound like an animal.
Over the past months, the intelligence Jason’s unit had pieced together through monitoring chatter and milking informants had pointed to a band of heavily armed operatives moving furtively from south to north, bouncing from one safe house to the next. Certainly cause for concern. But none of the intel even remotely suggested that Fahim Al-Zahrani might be among the group.
That was how the dirty business of counter-terrorism functioned: for every truth there were provocative rumours. Like the claim made by an informant in Baghdad which suggested that these phantom operatives had acquired two Soviet suitcase-sized nuclear weapons (over sixty of which were still unaccounted for after the fall of the Motherland) and were planning to erase Jerusalem and Washington DC from the map.
Accepting ‘intelligence’ at face value was anything but smart. ‘Nothin’ but a bunch of drama queens,’ Meat had once said.
The tedious process of sifting good information from bad information had persistently put Jason’s unit one step behind their quarry. Only when Jason moved on to more aggressive tactics did a clearer picture begin to take shape. Case in point: the tips extracted from a former Ba’ath Party lieutenant who’d sung like a canary after only one night of sleep-deprivation in a brightly lit windowless room with Britney Spears’s ‘Oops! I Did It Again’ playing in a loop at blaring volume. Among other titbits, Britney got him to confess that he’d helped arrange transport for the quarry, from Mosul to Kirkuk, and that travelling with the group were senior Al-Qaeda members seeking safe passage to Iran. All true. Thanks, Britney.
From there, Hazo’s contacts in Kirkuk pointed them to a local imam who’d been rumoured to have briefly hosted a number of unsavoury guests. Enter bright lights, Britney Spears and one sleepless night and the imam had provided detailed descriptions for the four-wheel-drive vehicles he’d procured for the operatives. Shortly after Jason requested aerial surveillance support from one of the Predator drones flying reconnaissance rounds over the northern plain, the caravan had been spotted heading east towards the Zagros Mountains. An hour later Jason’s
