Okay, so deadly force course completed, Kate and I and Howard slung our M4s over our shoulders, and Zamo gave us each a black satchel stuffed with loaded magazines and telescopic sights. He said to us, “Good luck and good hunting.”
Mr. Brenner, the caravan master, had gathered the DSS drivers, and he was now speaking to them, reading from a sheet of paper that outlined the route and the order of march. I wondered if by chance Mr. Brenner and Mrs. Corey were riding in the same vehicle. Would he do something so stupidly obvious? Why not? I would.
Ed Peters had come out of the chancery building, though I didn’t think he was going to Aden with us. Maybe he was here to bless the caravan.
Kate and I were standing with Buck now, and Peters came over to us and said to Buck, “I’ve got only two fully armored vehicles left, and I have to pick up the new ambassador next week, so don’t get ambushed.”
Buck assured him, “You can get five new vehicles on a C-17.”
Peters replied, “That can take over a week.” He said to me, “I hate these trips to Aden.”
“You’re not going,” I reminded him.
“My vehicles are.”
“Sorry. Is there a bus I can take?”
Clearly Mr. Peters was worried about his vehicles. And, of course, his DSS agents. As for his passengers, they were the cause of his worries. A larger issue was the lack of American helicopters in this dangerous and inaccessible country. Without them, we had to drive through Indian Territory, and basically we were no more mobile than Al Qaeda in their Toyotas.
On the plus side, we had Predator drone surveillance-and maybe Hellfire missiles-but I didn’t know if Peters knew that, or if he knew we were taking his men and vehicles on the road to see if we could get into a fight with Al Qaeda.
Mr. Peters thought he might be causing the newbies some anxiety, so he said to me and Kate, “We’ve never gotten hit on the Sana’a-Aden road.”
Buck, too, assured us, “The most dangerous thing about the trip is the Yemeni truck drivers.”
Kate asked Buck and Peters, “Aren’t the National Security police supposed to provide road security?”
Peters replied, “Sometimes the police themselves are the problem.”
Right. In Yemen, even the good guys are bad. This place sucked. Did I already say that?
Bottom line here was three possible outcomes of this trip: a nice drive in the country, a successful encounter with the enemy, or headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers.
Public reaction would be total bewilderment-Where’s Yemen?
Good question.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Buck got another sat-phone call, and he moved off to speak. Maybe it was his wife in Maryland questioning him about all the Russia Club bills on his Amex.
Anyway, Buck returned and we chatted awhile, though he didn’t mention the phone call.
Brenner came over to us and said, “We’re ready to roll in five minutes.” Mr. Brenner glanced at Mrs. Corey, but asked me, “You all squared away on the M4?”
“We are.”
Brenner summoned everyone to draw near and said, “Listen up, please.”
As everyone gathered around, Brenner began, “First, let me introduce you to Dr. Nolan, who some of you may already know.”
The young doctor raised her hand and waved. She wasn’t bad-looking if you like the looks of, say, Scarlett Johansson. But I digress. What was I saying? She looked competent. Right.
Brenner informed everyone, “Dr. Nolan is fully equipped to treat carsickness, and gunshot wounds smaller than nine millimeters.”
That got a good laugh. Even Howard laughed on his way back inside the embassy. Just kidding.
Dr. Nolan said, “I make house calls.”
Brenner then introduced “our very important passengers, Mr. John Corey of the FBI Evidence Response Team, and Ms. Kate Mayfield, our new legal affairs attache.”
I held up my hand and said, “I’m John. That’s Kate.”
That got a few laughs. I mean, we were the reason for this risky trip to Aden, so I thought I should show everyone we were just nice, silly people.
Brenner also introduced Howard Fensterman, then said to everyone, “Okay, the order of march.” He read from his paper, naming the five DSS drivers and their assigned vehicles, and informed everyone, “I will be in the lead vehicle.”
Or as they say in the military, on point-theoretically the most dangerous position in a convoy, so if Mr. Point Man thought Kate was riding with him, I’d have to correct that.
Brenner, however, moved on, saying, “Mr. Harris will be riding shotgun in Vehicle Two.”
Buck raised his hand and informed everyone, “I am second in command if Mr. Brenner is not able to perform his duties.”
Right. Like dead.
Moving right along, Brenner announced, “Mr. Corey will be riding in Vehicle Three.”
The middle vehicle was usually the safest one in a convoy, sometimes reserved for the commander. But Mr. Brenner had assigned me the place of honor. Why? Because he liked me? No, because I was actually the goat that needed to be delivered as safely as possible to the trap.
Brenner then announced, “Also in the middle vehicle will be Dr. Nolan.”
Well, how about
Brenner answered my question. “Ms. Mayfield will be riding in Vehicle Four.”
I was really disappointed that Kate wasn’t riding with me and Clare.
Brenner continued, “Also in V-4 will be our other new legal affairs attache, Mr. Fensterman.”
Poor Kate. Just kidding. I really liked Howard. But if I had to spend five or six hours with him in a car, only one of us would walk out alive.
Howard, perhaps reading my and everyone’s mind, said, “Kate and I are available by sat-phone if anyone has any legal questions about returning fire.”
That got a big laugh of recognition from everyone who had to deal with this nuttiness. Even Howard laughed at himself, bringing him another step closer to reality.
Brenner went on, “The trail vehicle is our enhanced security unit.” He named the two DSS agents, one of whom was Zamo, who’d be riding with the DSS driver. He added for the newbies, “This vehicle has specialized armaments and security devices.” He quipped, “This is our Bondmobile.” He also told us, “The Bondmobile may change positions and may drop back or move out front to scout.”
This all sounded like standard convoy security procedure with maybe some variations based on past experience. Bottom line here, Paul Brenner was responsible for five expensive vehicles, lots of pricey commo and weapons, some sensitive paperwork, and thirteen American lives.
This was not the kind of job you trained for; it was the kind of job you were born or not born to do.
I wasn’t sure if Paul Brenner was enjoying this, but it was obvious to me that he was at home here. Back in the States, he’d be looking for another job, and in London, Paris, or Rome he’d be just another cog in the big embassy wheel; here, he was one of the wheels. I had a feeling he was staying in Yemen, though he himself didn’t know that.
Brenner said, “Commo. The hand-held radios should work well when we stay in line of sight, but remember there are some mountain curves and dips in the road. If necessary, we can relay radio messages. Also, please keep the radio chatter to a minimum for security and tactical reasons. I will initiate most calls.” He continued, “Each vehicle is equipped with a sat-phone antenna jack. If attempting a call, please don’t forget to plug in your
