all of us, “What do we do now?”
I explained to Kate and Zamo that a road trip to Marib airstrip might not be productive, and I suggested, “We can let this kind gentleman here take the vehicle marked for death, and absolutely confirm that Chet was planning to whack us.” I asked, “Anyone need to see that?”
No one apparently did.
I suggested, “Let’s go back to the Crow Fortress and talk to Chet and Buck.”
Brenner agreed, but said, “They will deny everything.”
Kate agreed, and so did Zamo.
Indeed, Chet and Buck would deny everything, and we had no proof that I wasn’t totally crazy. And if we disobeyed orders and went back to the Crow Fortress and I accused Chet and Buck of plotting to kill us, that could get very weird, and I’d be the one answering charges back in the States. Not to mention that the Company would definitely see to it that Kate and I met with a fatal accident. So we couldn’t go back to the Crow Fortress without proof, we didn’t want to drive to Marib, and we couldn’t stay here.
Zamo said, “Let the guy drive.”
No one responded to that.
The guy in question, whose name was Emad, said something to Brenner, who didn’t reply.
Okay, someone has to make life-or-death decisions, and like Brenner, I too get paid for that. And yet…
Finally, I said, “Let Emad drive to Marib airstrip.”
Neither Kate nor Brenner seconded that, but neither did they object. Zamo, however, said, “Otherwise, you’ll never know for sure.”
Brenner hesitated, then said something to Emad, who smiled and got into our Land Cruiser. Emad didn’t ask for his money up front, but Brenner pressed a handful of rials on him and said something to him in Arabic.
In truth, we were becoming more callous and more like the bad guys, but at least we had a conscience.
Emad waved and took off down the slope.
Well, part of me hoped I was wrong, but the blood on the roof said I was right. In fact, everything said I was right.
One of the Bedouin said something to Brenner, and Brenner said to me, “He wants to know if we need a ride back to the Crow Fortress.”
I looked at my watch and said, “Ask him if we can borrow his vehicle.”
Brenner asked, and it was no problem, and I tipped them with the last of my rials.
I drove this time, and Zamo rode shotgun. Kate and Brenner sat silently in the rear.
After a few minutes we could see the Crow Fortress ahead, and I spotted a pile of rocks on the left. I pulled over and said, “We can watch from here.”
We got out of the Land Cruiser and climbed onto the rocks, which gave us a clear view of the flatlands below.
Zamo put his sniper rifle to his shoulder, adjusted his scope to full power, and said, “I got him.”
Brenner, Kate, and I did the same with the weaker-powered scopes on our M4s.
I could see the white Land Cruiser driven by Emad kicking up dust about a mile away, heading north toward the Marib road.
There wasn’t much vehicle traffic on the dirt roads that cut through the dry fields, and it was easy to follow the lone dust trail even as the Land Cruiser grew smaller.
The more time that went by without the SUV erupting into a ball of flames, the more I began to think that maybe I was missing my flight out of here.
No one spoke, but I could imagine what Kate and Brenner were thinking: Poor John has gone gaga. Zamo, however, was looking through his scope like he was tracking a Taliban general. He was as still as a statue and his breathing was so controlled that I thought he’d gone into a trance.
I was half hoping that I hadn’t sent an innocent man to his death, but as the seconds ticked by, I also hoped that a Predator pilot had the Land Cruiser in its crosshairs and was waiting for Chet to say, “Engage the target.”
After three or four minutes I lost sight of the SUV in my scope, and so did Kate and Brenner, and they put their rifles down. But Zamo still had him and kept looking through his scope.
I said, “Maybe this will happen later.”
No one replied.
Zamo said, “Lost him,” and put his rifle down.
Brenner asked me, “What do you want to do now?”
I replied, “Sit here and wait for the streak of white smoke.”
Again, no one replied, but Zamo was staring out at the distant horizon without his scope, so we did the same.
Kate said to everyone, “Let’s ask one of the Bedouin back there to drive us to the Marib airstrip.”
Brenner suggested, “Or let’s walk back to the Crow Fortress and say our car broke down and we need another one.”
Did I detect a note of sarcasm in his voice?
I said, “We can see the smoke trail for over twenty miles from up here.”
Brenner informed me, “I’m not waiting half an hour for that.” He said to Kate, “Please talk to your husband. We need to make a decision.”
“John.”
“Quiet.”
So we sat on the rocks and stared out at the blue sky. The crazy guy was in charge. Or he needed to be humored until he came to his senses-or until they could get the drop on me.
So we continued to wait, but only Zamo and I were giving the sky our undivided attention. Kate and Brenner were exchanging glances.
Please, God, let me be right about the CIA wanting to kill me and my wife. That’s not too much to ask.
Less than two minutes after we’d lost sight of the dust cloud, a white trail of thin white smoke cut across the blue sky. An instant later, there was a flash of orange light on the horizon, but no sound.
Zamo said, “Target killed.” He added, “Holy shit.”
Brenner stood, but said nothing.
Kate, too, stood, and stared as a column of black smoke began rising above the horizon. She said, “Oh my God…” I didn’t know if she was addressing me, but she looked at me and said, “I can’t believe this…”
Birds in the fields below suddenly took flight, then a muffled sound like distant thunder reached us and died away, leaving a stillness in the air.
Brenner was still staring at the rising smoke, and he said, “Those bastards.”
Zamo said, “I guess John was right.”
I guess so.
Kate said softly, “That poor man… he’s dead.”
No one responded to that.
Brenner said, “Okay, let’s go back and talk to Buck and Chet.”
I said, “They’ll think they’re seeing ghosts.”
We got into the Land Cruiser and headed back to the Crow Fortress.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
I drove fast, but not so fast as to attract the attention of the Predator pilot whose job it was to watch the immediate vicinity of the Crow Fortress. But even if he saw us as we approached the fortress, all he’d see was the Bedouin Land Cruiser from the rock pile, so no reason to call Chet.
As for Chet and Buck, both their monitors would now be tuned in to the two Predators flying above the goat herder’s hut. One of their screens would have been split to direct another Predator to follow the suspected target in the Land Cruiser-us-and Chet had just given the order to destroy the target. I wonder if Chet had a lump in his
