CIA officer?”
He nodded.
I asked him, “Do you think that’s one of the reasons that Kate and I are here?”
“I’m not following you.”
“Of course you are.”
He didn’t reply directly but said, “I believe you and Chet have discussed that.”
“Correct. And he assured me there was no problem.”
“Then there is no problem.”
“I’m relieved.”
“Good.” He asked, “Anything else on your mind?”
“Yes…” I confessed to him, “I want to be a warlord.”
He forced a smile and informed me, “The Panther is a type of warlord, but he can never be a sheik, and neither can you.”
“Warlord is okay.”
“Good. I have a class on that.”
I smiled. Buck was easy to like. But not easy to trust.
The smell of dinner wafted through the window and I said, “Smells like Italian sausage at the Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy.”
“Goat.”
“Again?”
I didn’t really have to answer a call of nature, but Buck really did have to make a call in private, so I went down to the courtyard where a fresh, whole goat was roasting on a spit. Good. I hate leftover goat.
Buck joined us a bit later, and Kate said she’d dine in the van and monitor the electronics. I think she felt awkward at a stag dinner. Also, the van was running and the generator was powering the small air-conditioning unit, so Kate shut the doors, saying, “It’s hot in this balto. Enjoy the fresh air, gentlemen.”
Right. A dozen gamey guys and a roasting goat. Does life get any better?
Anyway, after a simple and simply awful dinner, we joined Kate in the van and watched a little TV–Channel One was showing a rerun of the infrared night view of the Crow Fortress, and Channel Two was showing our immediate area of concern, meaning a wider view of the plateaus and the surrounding flatlands. Nothing seemed to be moving out there, except a diminishing herd of goats.
Chet announced that he was going to sleep in the van-which could be locked from the inside-so he could be near the screens, and in case he got a radio or sat-phone call from the Predator pilots, who remained vigilant through the night. Sounded like a good idea. Sleep light, Chet.
The rest of us went up to the diwan and posted our guard-Kate and I took the first shift, Buck and Brenner the second, and Zamo pulled the last shift alone.
During our guard duty, Kate said to me, “I have to be honest with you, John, those Al Qaeda men and those photos shook me up.”
“That’s what they wanted. But you should also be angry.”
“I am… but… I want to get this over with.”
I told her, “You can actually leave. If you think about it, we’re not needed here anymore. Al Qaeda saw the bait, and they won’t see us again. The next thing they and The Panther will see is Sheik Musa, followed by Hellfire missiles.”
She thought about that and nodded, but said, “I’m not going anywhere without you, and I know you’re staying, so I’m staying.” She looked at me. “We need to see this through to the end.”
We actually didn’t, but we did. I said, “If you change your mind, I’m sure we can get you to the Marib airstrip, then to Sana’a Airport, or back to the embassy.”
“This subject is closed.”
“Okay.” We separated and looked out different windows-north and west for me, south and east for Kate.
Right. We could actually leave now. So could Buck, Brenner, and Zamo for that matter. Only Chet had to stay behind to direct the Predators and the Hellfire missiles, and then, if all went well, he could go alone to collect pieces of the garbage. And even that wasn’t completely necessary for a successful mission.
But I, and the rest of us, couldn’t leave Chet here by himself. I mean, our differences and egos aside, we’d sort of bonded as a team. Right? We’d come a long way and all of us wanted to be here to see this through together. Also, I wanted to see what Chet was up to.
And to be honest, we all wanted to see the blasted corpses of The Panther and his jihadists-to smell the burnt flesh and bone-to see what we had done by remote control that we would have liked to have done up close and personal. And, like warriors since the beginning of time, we wanted to take mortal evidence of our victory back to our camp-in this case, a forensic lab. Warfare has changed, but the heart of the warrior remains the same; it remains primitive.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
The following day brought no word from Sheik Musa about Al Qaeda, and I was beginning to think we weren’t worth a hundred thousand dollars, which was a big hit on my ego.
The real problem, of course, was the provision in the deal that it had to be negotiated by the principals. No underlings.
I had the thought that many chiefs from the beginning of time had also found themselves in this quandary. I mean, do you show up and take a chance that the other chief has a surprise for you? Or do you strap on your brass balls and take the meeting?
I guess that decision depends on how brave you are. Or how stupid you are. Or how paranoid you are. Or, in the end, how hungry you are for what was being offered.
By the second day, the A-team was beginning to doubt my conclusion-and their hope-that The Panther would say yes to the meeting. But I kept thinking about those photographs-the message
At about half past three of the second day, we had our answer.
Chet got a radio message from a Predator pilot reporting that a single Toyota Land Cruiser was climbing the north slope of the plateau, on its way toward the Crow Fortress-code-named Point A, in case anyone was listening.
The A-team went up to the mafraj and watched the Land Cruiser coming from the direction of the rock pile where Musa’s men guarded the northern approach to the plateau and the fortress.
The Bedouin in the courtyard, who’d been called by the Bedouin guarding the approach, opened the gates and the white Land Cruiser entered.
We watched from the mafraj as five armed Bedouin piled out of the SUV and began talking to the eight men in the courtyard.
Chet said to us, “They’re not delivering food or water, so I think they’re delivering a message.”
Good CIA thinking. But I would have welcomed a few chickens.
Chet and Buck volunteered to go down to the courtyard to see what was going on, and Chet also said, “I need to see what’s happening in the van. Cover us.”
Well, I’ll cover Buck. You’re on your own, Chet.
Buck and Chet, armed and armored, moved quickly down the stairs to the courtyard.
Brenner said to Zamo, “Cover, but don’t aim at anyone.” To us he said, “Same. But be ready. Don’t misinterpret. Only I give the order to fire.”
I thought Brenner was overreacting to what seemed like a non-threatening situation. But something
Buck and Chet appeared in the courtyard, and Buck walked directly toward the Bedouin, who now totaled
