expert.”
“You draw soldiers?” I asked.
His mouth turned up in a smile. He liked me. Good boy, Zamo.
Brenner joined us and suggested that we get moving. He said to Zamo, “You’ll accompany us to the Sheraton.”
Zamo finished eating his coffee cup and nodded.
I guess Zamo was the team sniper. It’s good to have a trained killer on the team. And a churchgoer at that.
Thinking back on our time since we landed, I had the same feeling that I’d had the last time I was here; I’d stepped through the looking glass and everyone on this side was crazy, and they’d been crazy for so long that they made sense to one another, but not to anyone who just arrived from Earth.
Anyway, Brenner and I found Kate, who was with a group that included Howard, and I said to her, “Time to go.”
Howard reminded us, “I wanted to show Kate her office.”
Brenner suggested, “Tomorrow would be good.”
I wasn’t sure of the pecking order here, but in places like this, security guys had some weight, so Howard said, “Fine. See you at nine.” He added, “I need to give you a copy of the arrest warrant for the suspect.”
I asked Howard, “Can I have a copy of the CIA kill order?”
Howard didn’t reply.
Anyway, Kate and I collected our luggage, and we met Brenner out front where a single Land Cruiser was waiting for us. It was a bright, sunny day, but already getting hot.
Kate said, “What a beautiful day.” She asked me, “Isn’t this better than New York in February?”
“No.”
Zamo loaded our luggage in the rear, then slid behind the wheel. Brenner got in the front and Kate and I sat in the back.
I asked, “Where’s Mohammed?”
Brenner replied, “Getting fitted for a suicide belt.”
Funny. I was really getting into this place.
So off we went, and I commented that there was no lead or trail vehicle. Brenner said, “It’s only about six hundred yards to the Sheraton and we don’t want to attract undue attention on the street or at the hotel.”
Right. So only one armored Land Cruiser, two armed security men, and two armed passengers. No one will notice.
We got to the outer gates, which slid open, and we were on the street. The Yemeni soldiers were still sitting around, at the top of their game.
Brenner and Zamo had their guns in their laps, so Kate and I did the same.
Across the way from the embassy I saw another walled and guarded compound that I remembered from last time, called Tourist City for some reason, though it was actually a complex of apartment houses and shops for resident and transient Westerners, some of whom were staff from the various embassies. Also living in Tourist City were aid workers and a few poor bastards who were transferred here for business, mostly the oil. This was probably where Kate and I would have lived if we were staying in Sana’a.
Yemenis, I recalled, were not allowed in Tourist City, except as trusted servants, though it was rumored that a few of these servants were Al Qaeda, which you’d expect. In my opinion, it was the least safe place in Sana’a; a terrorist attack waiting to happen.
The best thing about Tourist City was the Russia Club, owned and operated by two entrepreneurial gentlemen from Moscow whose personal mission it was to bring alcohol, drugs, and hookers to Yemen, thereby spreading the benefits of European civilization to this benighted nation. The Russia Club had a second location in Aden, as Buck mentioned in his class, and I’d been invited to both clubs on my last trip to Yemen, but I’d declined. Honest.
We turned right onto a narrow, tree-shaded road, and I asked, “If I roll down my window, will someone lob a grenade in?”
“Probably,” replied Brenner. “Just throw it back.”
We all got a laugh at that.
This was going to be a fun assignment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Brenner passed us a nylon bag, saying, “Two satellite phones with chargers, and two hand-held radios. The sat-phones are programmed with the speed dial numbers you’ll need. The radios have a selection dial for twenty frequencies, but we are using only two-zone one and zone two. There’s also a list of radio call signs in the bag.” He informed us, “The radios have a short distance-basically point to point-because we don’t have antennas or repeaters here.”
I asked him, “Is our absent team member programmed?”
“Not yet.” He instructed us, “If death or capture seems imminent, destroy the phones and radios.” He suggested, “A bullet will do it.”
If I have a bullet left, I’m not shooting my phone.
Brenner also informed us, “Our radio call sign is Clean Sweep.” He added, “This has some significance regarding the USS Cole.” He explained, “Warships returning to port after an engagement often tied a broom to their mast which signaled ‘Clean Sweep.’ In other words, ‘We got the bastards.’ ” Brenner further informed us, “The name of this operation is also Clean Sweep.”
Every operation needs a code name, something that doesn’t give the enemy any info. Clean Sweep was good. Avenge the
Paul Brenner, man of many bags, passed us another bag, a big blue one, and said, “Two Kevlar vests. Size should be okay.”
I asked, “Is that it for the bags?”
“I was going to give you a bag of cookies, but now I’m not.”
Kate laughed.
As we continued on, Brenner informed us, “This neighborhood is where the U.S. and U.K. embassy people live who don’t live in the embassy compound, or in Tourist City.”
Kate inquired, “Is this where you live?”
“No, I live near the khat souk. Not too far from here.”
Kate processed that for a second and said, “Khat souk…?”
“Biggest open-air drug market in the world.” He assured us, “They sell other things-chickens, cows, firewood, and guns.”
“So,” I speculated, “you can get high, buy a cow, shoot it, and cook it, all right there.”
“That’s what I do most Saturday nights.”
We pulled into a circular drive and headed toward the portico of the Sheraton, which had a mock Mideastern facade, sort of like the embassy.
I’d spent two nights in this Sheraton on my last visit to Sana’a, which I had thought was my last visit to Sana’a.
Zamo stayed with the vehicle, and Brenner, Kate, and I got out and moved toward the front doors where two men in blue camouflage fatigues and blue berets stood with AK-47s. Brenner said, “They’re NSB guys-National Security Bureau.” He added, “Tonight they could be Al Qaeda.”
“Should we tip them?”
We entered the air-conditioned lobby, and Kate and I went to the front desk, while Brenner stood near the doors. The check-in clerk said, “Welcome, sir and lady.”
“Thank you, man.”
We gave him our passports, and he looked us up on the computer, then assured us, “You have beautiful
