The Panther

A few seconds later, a voice with a nice Down South accent came over the speaker. “Sweep six-six, loud and clear.”

Six-six said to zero-zero, “I called in a sat-phone sit-rep at five hundred hours, and I repeat, all okay.”

“Roger, six-six.” Zero-zero inquired, “Whacha’all have for lunch down there? Looked like grits.” Zero-zero laughed.

Hey, were we having fun or what?

Chet, a.k.a. six-six, and zero-zero, whoever and wherever he was, exchanged some technical information, then Chet said to zero-zero, “I’ll give you a heads-up when Clean Sweep is mobile-two small white SUV Hiluxes that you see here, plus the three white larger SUV Land Cruisers containing local escorts. Destination, Bilqis Hotel, Marib. Details to follow.”

“Roger. Predator Two will follow. Predator One remains on station above you.” He added, “Both heavy.” Meaning armed.

Chet also told him, “I’ll be away from this station until the team goes mobile, so if you see anything in the area that we should know about, call my sat-phone. If I’m not able to receive, you have the five other sat-phone numbers.”

“Roger.” Zero-zero asked, “Anything further?”

“Negative.”

Zero-zero said, “Good luck.”

Chet signed off and said to us, “I wanted you to see and hear that everything is in place, and that we are covered by the Predators.”

Wonderful, Chet. But can the Predators predict if our Bedouin buddies are going to smell a double cross and whack us? Or worse, turn us over to The Panther? No. We have to figure that out ourselves.

Chet explained a few other features of the Predator monitoring equipment and informed us, “As I said in Aden, during the execution stage of the operation we’ll have four Predators. Two over the target, and two over this location for security, each armed with two Hellfires.” He further explained, “I can split these two screens and watch all four images.”

I asked Chet, “How do we get this million-dollar van out of here?”

“We don’t. We can’t.”

“So the Predators take care of it?”

“Correct.”

That’s why my taxes are so high. I said jokingly, “I assume we will be out of the van when the Hellfire hits it.”

“That would be a good idea.”

The show-and-tell seemed to be finished, so Chet, Brenner, and I each took a case of canned food and we exited Moses’ fish van and Buck locked it up.

Buck said we should share our bounty with our hosts, to reciprocate for their hospitality-thanks for the glop, here’s a can of tuna-so we did that and made our way back to the second floor of the tower.

Chet seemed upbeat, and I imagined he saw the end in sight-the end of all his work and his frustration, and the end of his time here in Yemen.

All we had to do now was go check into the hotel, go see the stupid ruins, then get kidnapped.

And then wait for The Panther.

CHAPTER SIXTY

At 1:15 P.M., the A-team, minus Chet Morgan, piled into our two Toyota Hiluxes, compliments of Sheik Musa. We left most of our personal items in the Crow Fortress because we’d be coming back later today as kidnapped Americans, also compliments of Sheik Musa. But we did take our overnight bags with us for when we checked into the Bilqis Hotel for a few days of sightseeing fun, cut short, unfortunately, by the above-mentioned kidnapping.

The purpose here, according to Chet’s complex plan, was to make it appear that we were tourists driving in from Sana’a. And at the same time, we were obviously not tourists, so therefore we were Americans on a mission. Hopefully our arrival would come to the attention of The Panther, who would conclude, correctly, that his former compatriots were here to kill or capture him. The Panther, in turn, would make plans of his own to kill or capture us. But before he could do that, a third player-Sheik Musa-would upset The Panther’s plan by doing what the Bedouin do best: kidnapping foreigners for ransom. And the first person who was offered the chance to buy the Americans would be The Panther. The Panther, theoretically, would not smell a setup or a trap because it would appear that Sheik Musa just happened to get wind of the American presence and was taking advantage of an opportunity.

And that’s the way the CIA thinks. It’s not the way I think-I’m a bit more direct and a lot less into the smoke and mirrors that the CIA loves. But, hey, it’s their show and Yemen is the stage, so maybe they’ve got this one right. We will see.

Anyway, in my overnight bag, if you’re interested, I’d packed some bottled water, a can of tuna, and yesterday’s boxer shorts. Also, Chet had provided each of us with a toilet kit to complete the appearance of overnight visitors from Sana’a.

We were carrying our concealed sidearms, we wore our Kevlar, and our M4s were across our laps. Kate also wore her black scarf so she could cover her hair and face when appropriate, like when she was kidnapped by Muslim gentlemen who would be offended to see her face.

The three Bedouin Land Cruisers that had taken us to the Crow Fortress would now provide a discreet escort for us to the town of Marib, to prevent a real kidnapping-or assassination-by someone else. Two of the Land Cruisers had gone ahead to check out the road, and the third would trail behind. And if anyone noticed the Bedouin’s SUVs, they would or should appear to be stalking us, not protecting us.

The two Bedouin who’d been here watching the Predator fish van when we’d arrived were staying here to hold down the fort, literally, and to provide security for Chet. I hoped they didn’t cut his throat. We needed Chet to talk to the Predator pilots.

As for CCC–Command, Control, and Communication-the Bedouin had provided Chet, Buck, and Brenner with local cell phones so the convoy could stay in touch if a security situation arose. Also, we had our hand-held radios for point-to-point contact with one another, and our sat-phones, though they’d work only if we had clear sky, meaning not in the vehicles, unless we had our heads out the window.

The order of march was: Hilux One, Buck driving and Zamo riding shotgun; Hilux Two, Brenner driving, me riding shotgun, and Kate in the rear.

We gave the two lead Bedouin Land Cruisers a five-minute head start, then Chet wished us a safe drive to Marib, a nice day at the ruins, and a pleasant kidnapping. Chet thought that was funny. He waved good-bye, then stepped into the van, where he could watch us getting abducted as he ate a can of tuna.

Buck and Zamo pulled out of the courtyard, and Brenner, Kate, and I followed.

Buck didn’t head back to the steep ravine we’d come up, but headed north and west across the plateau, following the tire tracks of the two Land Cruisers ahead of us, whose raised dust we could see in the distance. Follow that Bedouin.

The gray, rocky plateau looked like the video images from the first moon walk. This place could use another forty days and forty nights of rain.

Brenner said to Kate and me, “I’ve been thinking about this thing with Sheik Musa.”

I asked, “You mean about us killing Sheik Musa?”

“Yes.” He admitted, “I see the reason for it. But I don’t like it.”

“Neither will Sheik Musa,” I assured him. But the sheik would know the reason for it.

“Aside from the ethical issues, there are practical issues,” said Mr. Brenner.

“You mean like, how do we explain to the Saudis that we whacked their Bedouin ally?”

“Yes, not to mention that the Bedouin here in Marib and elsewhere may not want to do business with us in Yemen ever again.” He let us know, “They have long memories and they hold grudges for about a thousand