Clear by Fire (35 page)

Harden was telling them to hurry over the radio as Hoyt ran past Jones and set up near the rear door. “Friendlies coming out,” he yelled before tossing the door open and taking a peek outside. He could see the colonel engaging a target down the alley. Before stepping into the street, he made sure Jones was on his tail.

Jones stopped at the door to change mags while Hoyt moved up to cover Barnes. The colonel heard the heavy rifle barking behind him and turned to look over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Barnes yelled as Hoyt picked up his sector of fire. “All Anvil elements pull back to the vehicles,” Harden called out over the internal net. The level of fire from the rebels had abated, but there was still a lot of movement around the periphery of the block.

Jones moved out from the shop with the laptop bag in one hand and his rifle in the other. Heading to the car, he tossed the bag into the backseat and told Hoyt to get into the van.

“Yeah, put me with the bomb, that’s real cool,” Hoyt yelled sarcastically. Villa collapsed back a few feet before turning to cover Boz.

“I’m set,” Villa yelled. His teammate lifted the machine gun off the car and moved back to the van. The colonel had another frag prepped and tossed it down the alley before moving up to the car. He got a quick head count and waited for the van to get turned around.

“Let’s get on out of here,” Harden said once he slammed the door shut. Scottie put the car in reverse. As soon as the vehicles were clear, Barnes hopped into the backseat of the car and told Scottie to “punch it.”

“Holy shit, that was intense,” Scottie said as he sped past the van and took up the lead position. “You guys need to learn how to fucking drive.”

“I need your empties,” Barnes said. He opened a green ammo can and started pulling out preloaded magazines. Passing a handful to Harden, he refilled his kit and began loading the empty magazines from a can of 7.62 ammo.

“What happened, Jones?” Harden asked as he handed Scottie four full magazines.

“We made a right turn onto the street, and there was guy with an AK in the middle of the road. As soon as he saw us, he opened up. It was on after that.”

“Get us on the main road before it gets ugly,” Harden said without looking up from the map.

“It’s going to be real fun trying to fit everyone in this little-ass Toyota Camry.” Scottie grinned.

“Right now that’s the least of our worries.”

They pulled onto 110 heading south and they could see the Syrian army moving north along the road. Attack helicopters buzzed low above the buildings and began firing rockets down into the neighborhoods. Harden was looking for a way around an army checkpoint up ahead when an RPG skipped across the road.

“Shit, you want me to hold up or what?” Scottie asked.

“Get us off the road. We’re a kilometer out from the target,”
Harden said. Scottie pulled the car onto the median and watched as another RPG sliced across the street and hit the checkpoint.

The soldiers followed the white trail of the rocket and began firing machine guns at a building a hundred meters to their left. They continued shooting until another rocket hit their position. Then they turned and fled.

“Are you serious?” Scottie asked out loud. “No one even died, that’s just embarrassing.”

“Fuck it. Let’s go.” They all had their windows down. Scottie put the car back in gear and accelerated down the street. He swerved across the median, into oncoming traffic, before swinging back into their lane. Luckily most of the cars on the road were stopped, and the two vehicles were able to pass around the checkpoint without any issues. The final phase line was less than a quarter kilometer away, and they knew there was no way Barnes was going to call off the attack.

•  •  •

Zeus and Mason were stuck on the southern bypass in a line of cars stretched along the route to the 110. Even though most of the traffic was heading north into the heart of the city, the roads were congested as vehicles began turning around in the street. An army checkpoint was on fire next to a brick building ahead of them. Sandbags gave off black smoke as they burned.

The government had artillery in the hills around the city. They could hear the large shells cutting through the air as they flew overhead. One of the shells fell short and impacted a residential area off to the west. The explosion rocked the car and kicked up a huge plume of smoke and debris. The rebels in the street turned toward the explosion as another shell detonated with a crunching thump. Zeus kept his head down as he drove.

“This neighborhood is primarily Shia. I hope the fighting stays north of here.”

“There’s another checkpoint ahead,” Renee said from the back.

The cars in front of them were being stopped by a group of fighters wearing yellow Hezbollah headbands.

Mason looked up from the phone, annoyed that he couldn’t get ahold of Mr. David. He saw that the traffic on both sides made it impossible to turn around, and he knew they were stuck. Tossing his rifle into the backseat, he ordered Tarek to cover it up with his blanket. If Lebanese guerillas suspected anything, the men would be executed in the street.

“Shit,” Mason said.

Zeus calmly waited to pull up to the makeshift checkpoint while Mason slipped his pistol out of its holster and stuck it under his leg. The Libyan had the window down and came to a stop as one of the fighters stuck his head in.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re heading south. The rebels have cut the road and are attacking the army checkpoints.”

“I know that, but why are you heading south? The fighting is the other way.”

Mason lit a cigarette and tried to stay calm as another guerilla strolled arrogantly toward his side of the car and looked greedily at Renee in the backseat. Things were about to get ugly.

“Look, my friend. We have a job to do, and we would like to get past if we may.”

“How do I know that you aren’t with the Brotherhood?” Zeus was trying to find an answer when the man shoved his rifle through the window. “Where are you from?” Mason moved his hand nonchalantly to his pistol and prayed that if he started shooting Zeus would hit the gas.

“Is that your commander over there?” Zeus pointed to a man in camo fatigues sitting on a folding chair. “Tell him that I need to talk to him. He knows who I am.”

“You know that guy for real?” Mason asked as the rebel looked back toward his boss.

“Fuck no, just follow my lead,” Zeus said quietly.

“We are going to die,” Tarek whispered from the backseat.

“Stay calm,” Renee said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Either you bring my old friend over to me, or let me go talk to him. It’s your choice. I assure you, he will not be happy if I am not allowed to speak to him.”

The Hezbollah fighter looked confused but allowed Zeus to open the door. Swiftly grabbing a stack of cash from the center console, he asked Mason to pass him the cell phone before getting out of the car. The Libyan walked confidently down the road and called out a greeting to the commander. He held his arms wide open as the man slowly got to his feet with a bemused smile.

Zeus embraced the man. The rebel at Mason’s window lowered his rifle and walked on to the next car. He could see Zeus pointing back to the car while holding up the phone. The commander nodded as the Libyan passed him a stack of bills and began dialing a number into the phone. The commander smiled and slipped the cash into his pocket before taking the phone.

As he lifted the phone to his ear, Zeus turned and flashed Mason the thumbs-up. The commander talked on the cell phone for a few minutes before handing it back to Zeus. The two men embraced warmly, and Zeus trotted back to the car with a large smile. Mason could see the Hezbollah commander yelling to his men, who began piling into a white pickup, preparing to move out.

“Allah is with us today, my friend,” Zeus said as he jumped into the car and put it in drive.

“Did you just bluff that guy?”

“Holy crap, I thought they were going to kill us,” Renee exclaimed.

Zeus raced through the gears, accelerating to catch up with the white pickup, which had sped off in front of them. Seven Hezbollah fighters were holding on for dear life as the driver swerved back and forth across the lanes of traffic, making a path for them to follow.

“Sort of. When it looked like Gaddhafi was going to lose control over the country, Ahmed thought it would be best to find alternate means of employment.”

“You mean he wanted to save his ass.”

“Yes, of course, but what do you expect? He had contacts in Lebanon who thought he worked for Hamas. Ahmed convinced certain people that he had infiltrated the Libyan intelligence network and began selling them intel on Israel. The whole thing was rather preposterous, but Ahmed pulled it off.”

“So how did you turn that interesting tidbit into the little performance we just witnessed?”

“Well, the money helped, and I just prayed that he knew of Ahmed.”

“What was your plan if he didn’t?” Renee asked.

“That much money has a way of changing a person’s mind.” Zeus smiled.

Mason shook his head in amazement as he retrieved his rifle from the backseat. Up ahead, two more pickups waited on the median. The fighters held on for dear life as the drivers jumped the curb and took the lead.

“Ahmed told him that the Muslim Brotherhood had hired Westerners to blow up the mosque,” Zeus said with an evil smile.

“That was smart. Who knows, we just might make it out of this.”

“Abdul is the Hezbollah commander for the city,” he said, pointing to the white pickup that had already sped off. “He will be extremely motivated in ensuring Barnes fails in his task.”

“I just hope we find Barnes first,” Renee said.

Mason felt a wave of relief now that they were moving. He had seen checkpoints like these in Darfur and knew what type of men manned them. When law and order fell away, it was always the “freedom fighters” who did the most damage. In Africa, he’d seen more rape and murder than any one man should ever have to witness.

Looking up at the rearview mirror, he locked eyes with Renee.
She smiled at him, and he wondered if she knew of the danger they had just avoided.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, leaning forward.

“Oh, really?”

“I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But if it’s all the same to you, try to stay close.”

She reached over the top of the seat and gently squeezed his shoulder. They had both found something in each other that they had been missing, and it scared Mason.

Up ahead, the lead pickups darted into oncoming traffic and blocked the road. The convoy cleared the intersection. The drivers of the blocking vehicles honked their horns and flashed their lights as they weaved their way back up to the front.

A truck passed, the bed loaded down with heavily armed jihadists. Mason wondered what Toyota would think about the fact that their pickup was the vehicle of choice for the new freedom fighters. It would be a great commercial, for the right audience.

“We’re getting close,” Zeus said.

The last truck crossed the median and sped past the convoy on the wrong side of the road. A yellow flag snapped in the breeze from its place on the roll bar as civilian drivers fought to get out of its way. At the last minute, the driver jumped the median and pulled into the center of another intersection.

“I don’t think that flag is such a good idea,” Tarek observed from the back. Zeus was about to reply when he saw a jet of flame and a cloud of dust kick up across the street. A moment later, an RPG slammed into the pickup, flipping it over in the middle of the road.

“Contact front,” Mason yelled, bracing himself against the dashboard as the truck in front of them locked up its brakes.

Zeus jerked the wheel hard to the left and hit the gas to avoid hitting a Hezbollah fighter who’d been flung from the bed of the truck. He slammed his foot on the brake, which locked up. The burning truck spun on its roll bar in the middle of the street.

“Hold on,” Zeus yelled. The truck in front of them dodged right into their path.

Time slowed. Zeus punched the gas in an attempt to avoid a collision. Mason felt the car shudder as the transmission slipped. They slammed into the steel bumper of the pickup. The impact sent Mason’s head crashing against the windshield. Their vehicle stalled and came under fire.

Bullets shattered the windshield. The American could feel blood dripping from a gash on his forehead. He sat dazed, staring through the smoke wafting up from the crumpled hood. Another burst of fire raked the car. Shaking his head, Mason tried to focus. His vision was blurry, and he was having trouble getting the door open. He slammed his shoulder against the door frame while pulling up on the latch. The door groaned before finally opening.

Falling out of the car, he felt a hand grab him from behind. Mason let himself be pulled away from the mangled car. He felt hot brass falling onto his neck. Looking up, he saw Renee firing one-handed as she dragged him to cover.

They had driven right into an ambush. Heavy rifle fire was pouring in from fighting positions dug along the far side of the road. Mason’s vision cleared slowly. He could see a squat brick building to his nine o’clock, which had a reinforced position set up on the roof. A heavy machine gun, most likely a DShK, was firing at their vehicles in long, slow bursts. The heavy .51-caliber rounds chewed up the lead trucks as a green flag with crossed swords snapped in the wind above the gun. It was painfully obvious that the Muslim Brotherhood was in control of this block.

The Hezbollah fighters scrambled for cover and began to return sporadic fire. Tarek pulled the SAW out of the backseat and laid it across the hood of their car. Holding the trigger down, he fired off a long burst at the roadblock set up on the other side of the intersection. Bodies of civilians and fighters littered the roadways as both sides fired indiscriminately.

Mason stumbled to his feet and brought his AK up to bear. He saw the gold dome of the mosque five hundred meters down the street.

“Zeus, there it is.” He pointed.