a perhaps moot subject and said to Brenner and Zamo, as I had said to Kate, “After the Al Qaeda guys came here and saw the bait, all of us, except for Chet, could have gotten out of here.”
Brenner nodded and said, “I thought about that back in Aden.”
And that would have been an excellent time to bring it up, Paul.
Brenner continued, “But”-he looked at me, Kate, and Zamo-“I don’t think any of us ever intended to leave.”
“No,” I agreed, “we never did, but for the record, and for later, no matter what happens in the next few hours, we should acknowledge that we stayed beyond the time we were needed. We stayed to see how it ended.”
No one had anything to add to that, except maybe the words, “Brave but dumb.”
So the mafraj meeting was adjourned for probably the last time, and Kate, Brenner, and I went down to the diwan, leaving Zamo to contemplate the abstract thought that excrement shafts go up and down and either way could get you out of deep shit.
This was all coming to a head, and we had lots to think about, but the bottom line was the mission: Kill The Panther. Then worry about how to get out of here alive.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
It was time to join Chet and Buck in Moses’ Red Sea Fish van so Kate, Brenner, and I went down into the courtyard.
The sinking sun cast a shadow along the west wall, and the thirteen Bedouin sat or squatted in the shade, drinking herbal tea and chatting. Little piles of green leaves sat on the ground between them. It was the happy hour.
Kate, Brenner, and I went into the van where Chet was sitting in the left-hand chair, staring intently at the video monitor. Buck was in the right-hand chair doing the same.
Chet’s screen showed the aerial view of the sheik’s goat herder’s hut, with a very close resolution of maybe a few hundred feet.
Buck’s screen had a higher and wider image of the area around the hut, showing a two- or three-kilometer radius. I saw five white Land Cruisers heading for the hut from the east. The Bedouin? Or Al Qaeda? Probably the sheik and his men, who as hosts needed to get there early to make tea.
As we all knew, each of the two Predator drones over the hut had, in addition to video cameras, two laser- guided Hellfire missiles, each with a high-explosive warhead, ready to launch, then seek and destroy whatever was in the crosshairs of the monitors. Awesome.
Chet came out of his electronic trance and said to us, “Look. The sheik is arriving.”
We looked closely at his screen and saw the five Land Cruisers pulling up about thirty yards from the hut, which was farther away than they had been when we’d arrived from the Otter to meet the sheik. In fact, the vehicles were far enough away from the kill zone to avoid winding up in an auto body shop.
As we all watched, the Bedouin began piling out of the five Land Cruisers, and I counted a total of fifteen, all carrying AK-47s, except one-the sheik.
Sheik Musa was distinguishable in his clean white robes and his regal shiwal. I couldn’t see his face, but from this computer-enhanced height of a few hundred feet, I could actually see his awesome proboscis. I mean, that thing cast a two-foot shadow, and probably had its own zip code.
The Bedouin were unloading the SUVs-three carpets, and what were probably crates of bottled water, plus burlap bags of what was maybe bread and tea. They were carrying other things that could have been camp stoves and pots to boil water-but no khat for their Al Qaeda guests. Other than that, they had everything they needed for a Yemeni picnic, even ants in case someone had malaria. And, of course, they had their AK-47s, because later, in a gross breach of Bedouin hospitality, they’d kill any of their guests who hadn’t been killed by the American Hellfires.
Sheik Musa ducked into the hut with a few of his men, and the rest of the Bedouin began setting up for the powwow.
Chet said to us, “The Panther and his men will arrive in about an hour or more. It’s okay to be late, but never early.”
If they had a woman with them, they wouldn’t have to worry about being early. Sorry. That just slipped out.
Chet hit a button on his console and said, “The video is on record. So we can play the final few seconds of Mr. al-Darwish’s life over and over again.”
There was still the question of friendly fire casualties, and Brenner asked Chet about that.
Chet had a ready answer and replied, “The two sides don’t mix. Al Qaeda is on their carpet or around their own vehicles, and the Bedouin do the same. Only the sheik and The Panther sit together on their own carpet and speak privately, and when the sheik excuses himself to go into the stone hut with a few of his men to drag out the Americans, that’s the signal for the Bedouin to take cover.” He added, “I then give the order to fire, and about four seconds later, it’s all over for Mr. al-Darwish and maybe half his men. The Bedouin will finish off the survivors.” He reminded us, “We discussed this in Aden.”
We did, but maybe Chet was still full of shit and everyone down there was going to die. Or at least lose a body part. And then we had to get out of here. Quickly.
Chet split his screen and the left half now showed a wide view of the Crow Fortress taken from one of the second pair of Predators on station over the plateau. Chet said, “There’s no one out there.”
Right. No Al Qaeda army ready to storm the Crow Fortress. So that was one indication that things were going as planned and that The Panther was going to show up at the goat herder’s hut.
Chet said to us, almost matter-of-factly, “There’s been a change of plans.”
A little buzzer went off in my head.
He swiveled his seat toward us, looked at me, Kate, and Brenner, and said, “But a good change.”
The buzzer got louder. Also, I noticed, Buck had been uncharacteristically quiet since we’d entered the van. Was he thinking about something? Or worried about something?
Chet continued, “It has been decided at the highest level that you three will leave here. Now.”
Neither I nor Kate nor Brenner asked why. That was coming.
Chet said to us, “Your role in this mission is finished, and in fact it’s been finished since the Al Qaeda delegation saw you.”
We all knew that, but this was the first time Chet had mentioned it.
He answered the unasked question. “The thinking in Washington was that you would stay around for a few days after these Al Qaeda guys saw you, in case they figured out where they were taken, and in case Al Qaeda was watching the Crow Fortress to attack it or to see if anyone left.” He went on, “But now that everything is in place and moving toward a conclusion, the mission planners want to split the team to ensure that we don’t have all our eggs in one basket.”
Again, the three eggs who were going to be put into another basket didn’t raise any questions. Best to let Chet talk.
And he did, saying, “Buck and I will stay here until the Hellfires do their job. We’ll keep Zamo here for security. And we will also have a Predator overhead for observation and security-the other Predator follows you.” He looked at us again and said, “You will take one of these Land Cruisers and drive it down the north slope, pick up the Sana’a-Marib road, and drive to the Marib airstrip, where you will meet a chartered aircraft-a Company plane-that will take you to a location in Saudi Arabia, and then to Riyadh International Airport and home.” He informed us, “If you push it, you can be at the airstrip in less than an hour.”
Thirty minutes, if
Chet asked, “Any questions? Any problems?”
It was Kate who said, “We intend to stay here until it’s over. We are going to the scene of the attack with you and we are flying out of there together on the Otter.”
Chet informed her, “That’s not going to happen, Kate.” He reminded us, “These are orders from the top.” He
