Disavowed (4 page)

Chapter 7

Arlington, Virginia

12:52am, August 24
th

The veins in Cal’s hand bulged as he gripped the phone. His chest heaved like a bull waiting to go into a matador’s ring. He closed his eyes as he listened, trying to focus on steadying his breathing. His temper howled inside demanding to be unleashed.

“You know that’s impossible, Trav,” Cal managed to say into the phone, his voice flat, emotionless.

“I know, but until we have evidence to support Andy, there’s not much we can do.”

“Don’t tell me that. I couldn’t care less about the evidence. We need to get Andy back. Not tomorrow. Now.”

“Look, if the president goes against the CIA it would ruin the inroads we’ve made. I think…”

“So you’re saying I should sit here and wait until my email dings and I get the video with Andy’s head dangling from some terrorist’s hand?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Cal. Unofficially, of course, the president agrees with you. But we need to be careful. Have you heard from Isnard?”

“No. He’s gone deep somewhere. Every line we’ve put out there has yet to get a bite.”

“I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he has something,” said Travis.

“Yeah. I sure hope so.”

+++

Helmand Province, Afghanistan

8:37am AFT, August 24
th

The white delivery truck pulled up the long drive, escorted by two pickup trucks and the usual complement of gunmen. You didn’t go anywhere in Helmand without security, least of all if you had something of value in your possession. Food was on the top of that list.

Quraish gazed down from his perch atop one of the squat buildings of the village. He sat in the best place to view the steep approach of the road below. It was early for a delivery, but at least they might have something better than the stale bread and moldy cheese they’d been given at sunup. One of the others had told him that supplies were running low. Quraish’s belly rumbled at the thought.

Someone in the larger village below had undoubtedly checked the convoy and passed it through. This was the innermost of three security rings. Besides, this side of the river was protected by a local warlord who ensured its safety. No one set foot inside the warlord’s lands without permission.

Quraish clicked his radio twice then spoke into it. “Food delivery coming up from the village.”

Whoever was on the other end mumbled something Quraish couldn’t understand. He replaced the radio on the short wall and continued to watch the small caravan as it moved closer. Still bored, Quraish’s only hope was that there would be some food left by the time his shift was over.

+++

The three vehicles pulled to a stop in front of the main building. Although larger than the others, the home was missing a quarter of its roof courtesy of an American mortar.

A five man contingent from the group assigned to defend the small outpost walked out to meet the delivery. Like their friend on the roof, their stomachs growled at the thought of food.

The men in the beds of the pickups stayed where they were as three men piled out of the delivery truck. One approached the defenders and the other two moved to the rear of the vehicle.

“Good morning, brothers,” said the lone man who approached, arms spread wide in greeting. His face was covered with a dust crusted black scarf. He wore a rust colored pakol on his head, the traditional Afghan round-topped cap worn by many in the rural region. Even the man’s eyes were shielded with dark sunglasses rimmed with brown dirt. “Where should I have my men put your shipment?” 

“Have them take it over there,” one of the five said, pointing to the building they’d come out of. “What did you bring today?”

The delivery man pulled down his scarf revealing a yellow smile. He rubbed his hands together.

“Many fine surprises, my friend. Many fine. Tell me, how many men do you have so that I might leave enough extras? Nothing you need to tell your commander about. I know how it is on duty.”

The five men looked at each other, one finally answering. “There are ten, but one is an old man with no teeth.”

The delivery man smiled wide and clapped his hands once. “Good! Then I have brought enough. No treat is too good for our fine warriors.” He put up a finger as if to say, “Wait here.”

The man disappeared behind the truck and came out a moment later cradling something wrapped in a white linen veil. The smile hadn’t left his face.

“What is it?” asked one of the men, who now numbered seven. The rest nodded in anticipation.

With a flourish, the delivery man whipped the linen away revealing a Russian-made PKM medium machine gun. On instinct, the seven men went for their weapons, but hesitated when the armed man standing in front of them whistled to get their attention. He motioned with his head back over his shoulder.

The outpost security guards looked where he was pointing and saw the rest of the caravan pointing their guns straight at them. It only took a second for them to realize they were outgunned.

“Now, if you will be kind and lower your weapons, I promise that we are not here to harm you,” said the delivery man.

“How do we know you won’t kill us as soon as we do what you say?” one of the guards dared to ask.

The delivery man laughed. “Do you think we would be here if we didn’t have your master’s permission? This is all part of the plan. We’ll even leave you the food in the back of the truck. No harm, eh?”

“Then what do you want?”

“First, I want you to put your weapons on the ground. Then I want to talk to whoever is in charge.”

Six of the guards looked to a seventh. He shook his head in disgust.

“It looks like you are in charge,” the delivery man said to the seventh. “Let’s step over there while they unload the truck.”

The two men moved away from the others and stopped next to a gray bricked well.

“Where is the American?” asked the delivery man. His smile was gone.

“I don’t know what…”

“I could easily kill you now and ask one of your underlings. You have two seconds to decide. One…”

The seventh man put up his hands. “In that building.” He pointed down the row to the smallest structure of the bunch.

The delivery man nodded. “Take me.”

+++

Andy’s eyes snapped to the door. He’d heard the crunch of tires and the slamming of car doors. They were back for him.

The wooden portal creaked open and one of the guards walked in with his hands raised, followed immediately by a shorter man wearing sunglasses and carrying an impressive machine gun.

“Get up,” ordered the armed man.

Andy lifted his bound hands to show him that he couldn’t.

“Where are the keys?” the man asked.

“In my pocket,” said the guard.

“Well take them out and unlock him, you fool.”

The guard did as instructed, inserted the skeleton key and took the heavy chains off of Andy.

“Now sit down and put them on yourself.”

The guard nodded and set both cuffs on his wrists. He glared at the second man as Andy backed away cautiously. He didn’t have a clue what was going on. Possibly some sort of power struggle. Kidnapping and extortion were big business in Afghanistan. It looked like he’d just been snatched by another faction. Confirmation came when the stranger tossed him a pair of handcuffs.

“Put them on.”

Andy complied.

“Now open the door and walk outside.”

Andy led the way out of the room, maintaining a safe distance from the weapon that had yet to be lowered.

“Walk to the delivery truck,” his new captor ordered. “Get in the front.”

Andy nodded, keeping his head lowered, even as his eyes darted back and forth. There were men he recognized, the guards, unloading food from the back of a white delivery truck. Other men sitting in the beds of smaller pickups watched, weapons trained.

This could go either way. Careful not to get in the path of his former guards who threw hateful glares his way, Andy climbed in the passenger side of the cab. The smell of stale cigarettes greeted him as he sat back and waited for the next leg of his journey.

+++

Once all the food was deposited next to their weapons, the delivery man gathered the outpost guards together.

“As I told you when I arrived, I am here at the bidding of someone much more important than any one of us. That puts you in a dilemma. If your boss finds out that you let the prisoner out…” He shook his head, confirming the implication.

“So what do we do?” asked one of the guards, panic in his bloodshot eyes.

The delivery man nodded slowly, thinking. Then he said, “I secured your leader in the same cell where you held your former prisoner. I would suggest that if you want to relieve yourself of the burden of blame, do with him what you like. After all, was it not
his
responsibility to secure this outpost? Perhaps retell the story of how
he
orchestrated the prisoner’s escape, how he failed to lift a finger.”

The six remaining guards nodded. They all knew what would happen if the blame lay in their hands.

“I think you know what you must do, brothers. Good luck.”

The delivery man turned and headed back to his truck, the engines of the pickup trucks revving in preparation for their departure.

“How do you know we will not tell the truth?” asked another guard.

The delivery man shrugged. “If that is your wish, may Allah grant you a swift death.” He handed the PKM to one of his men and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Farewell friends. Enjoy the food. The dates are especially delicious.”

All six guards stood in muted shock and watched the caravan make its way out of the outpost. As soon as the sound of tire on gravel faded down the hill, all six men turned and headed to the prisoner’s cell.

+++

Andy didn’t say a word as the convoy cleared the last building and rumbled onto the dirt road heading down a steep hill. It was the first chance he’d had to see the surrounding area. They were heading into a broad valley, homes dotting the landscape below.

Once they’d made it half a mile from his former prison, the delivery man pulled out an Afghan cigarette and lit it with a cheap lighter. He took a deep pull, held it, then let the gray plume out through the side of his mouth.

Without turning to look at Andy he said, “I’ll tell you what, they sure make Marines uglier than when I went through Parris Island.”

It took Andy a moment to realize the guy had said it in English and that he now recognized the voice. He turned his head as the driver took off the sunglasses and threw him a wink.

“Rich,” Andy breathed, relief flooding his body. The spook was the last person he was expecting to see. He hadn’t seen Isnard since passing through Baghdad, which seemed like ages ago.

Rich Isnard smiled and tossed Andy a set of keys. “Take your handcuffs off and grab the gun under your seat.” He pointed to the road ahead. “We’re going to have company.”

Andy shifted his gaze and saw what Isnard was talking about. There was a much larger convoy of vehicles coming their way. He knew it was the men behind his capture.

“With just a little bit of luck we’ll let them fly by and it might buy us some time before they talk to the boys back there.”

“That’s your plan?” asked Andy, reaching under the seat and feeling the familiar touch of a rifle stock.

“Hey, man, I put this little rescue op together on the fly. Semper Gumby, right?”

Isnard was grinning like a teenager who’d just gotten to third base with the captain of the cheerleading squad. Something about his smile reminded Andy of another Marine who was known for his bold charge into the maw of the enemy: Cal Stokes. With any luck, they’d survive the day and Andy might have a chance to tell his old friend what he’d discovered.

Chapter 8

Helmand Province, Afghanistan             

9:17am AFT, August 24
th

The smaller convoy of three eased off the road to allow the oncoming vehicles to pass. There were two humvees in the lead, one sporting a .50 caliber mounted machine gun, the second armed with a Mark-19 grenade launcher. Made in America.

Next came the large black SUVs, their windows an impenetrable black. There were ten, then another three humvees bringing up the rear.

Isnard whistled.

“That’s a lot of firepower.”

Andy half expected the opposing force to stop and take them out.

“Figures.”

Isnard turned to look at him. “What do you know? I couldn’t get confirmation on who was holding you. All they told me was that it was someone high up. I pulled every damned string I could just to get that much.”

Andy told him. Isnard’s face hardened.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Andy nodded. “I recognized his voice.”

Isnard put the truck in drive and pulled out onto the road, his lips tight in concentration.

“There’s a phone in the glove box. Grab it.”

Andy opened the compartment, moved aside extra packs of cigarettes and found a scuffed gray cell phone. He held it out for Isnard. Isnard shook his head.

“If what you’re telling is true, we’ve probably got one call with that thing.”

“It’s not encrypted?”

“I couldn’t get my hands on anything better in time.”

“Wait. Does the Agency know you’re out here?”

Isnard made a face. “Not exactly.”

Andy didn’t understand. He’d assumed that the CIA ordered Isnard to find him. Now that he had a second to think about it, he realized it was strange that the Baghdad station chief was in Afghanistan.

“Tell me what I missed.”

Isnard told him what he knew, which wasn’t much. The most important part being that Major Andrews was now disavowed by the employer who’d sent him into Afghanistan. For some reason Andy wasn’t surprised. He started laughing.

Isnard looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You want to tell me what’s so funny? Last time I checked we’re in this thing neck deep, Marine.”

Andy threw his hands up. “You know, everyone told me to stay away from the CIA, but I didn’t listen. I should be XO of a battalion right now. Instead, you’re telling me that on my very first operation for the CIA, I get captured, you save me like a knight in shining armor, AND I’ve been disowned? I’m sorry, but all I can think to do is laugh.”

Isnard chuckled. “You’re right. It’s like a really crappy movie, right? The kind you can’t keep watching because you know it’s fake.”

Andy’s laughing died down.

“How are we getting out of here?”

Isnard gave him a thin smile. “I hadn’t quite figured that out yet. Truth be told, I gave my rescue operation a thirty-percent chance of success. On top of that, my boss is pissed with me. I’ve been dodging his calls since I left Baghdad. He’s not stupid. He probably knows what I’ve been up to and for all I know I’ve been disavowed too.”

Both men chuckled at that. It really was too much to think about. There they were, in the middle of enemy territory, and they couldn’t trust their own government to save them.

“So who do we call?” asked Andy, pointing to the cell phone.

Isnard smiled. “We need someone who’s just nuts enough to come get us.”

Andy returned the smile when he realized to whom Isnard was referring. “Cal Stokes.”

+++

Arlington, Virginia

1:53am, August 24
th

The buzzing from the cell phone shook Cal from his thoughts. He’d been lying in bed for almost an hour, replaying the last conversation with Travis. Things looked bleak and he could feel Andy’s chances dwindling as the minutes ticked by.

He picked up the phone from the bedside table and looked at the screen. The caller ID displayed
UNKNOWN
in bold. Cal didn’t get a lot of calls and the unidentified ones were rarer still.

Curious, Cal answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, I was told that if I wanted a good time I should call this number?”

Cal bolted upright. It was Andy. He was being vague for a reason. Probably a nonsecure phone. He played along.

“Yeah. Depends on what you need.” Cal’s heart pounded as he waited for any hint of where his friend was.

“We kinda got in a little thing with some old friends and we might need a ride home.”

“That can be arranged. Where?”

“I was thinking we could meet at the same place you got cozy with Jiffy John.”

It took Cal a moment to realize what Andy was alluding to. On one of their trips back from overseas deployment, Cal caught a mean case of the runs. He’d spent their entire layover in Kandahar in a port-a-potty. After that, Andy always said he had a thing for Jiffy John, the American brand of portable bathrooms.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Good. I’m not sure when we’ll be there, but keep your phone on when you get in. Oh, and bring some friends.”

“You got it. Hey, are you okay?”

There was a pause from Andy’s end, then he replied. “I’m a lot better than I was an hour ago. I’ve even got a mutual friend driving. He said he’d be happy to give you another tour when you get here.”

Cal heard honking in the background.

“I’ll see you soon,” said Cal.

“Right. Gotta go.”

The line went dead and Cal stared at his phone. At least Andy was safe for the moment. He now knew his friend was with Rich Isnard. The comment about the tour referred to when Cal had first met the wily spook. He’d taken Cal on a walking tour of the U.S. Embassy in Baghdad, not letting on until later that he was friends with Andy.

Getting into Afghanistan wouldn’t be a problem. The hard part would be doing it without anyone knowing. Based on what Travis had told him, the CIA was high on the list of suspects in Andy’s disappearance. Keeping a rescue operation off their radar would be almost impossible. They had assets everywhere.

Cal stood and cracked his neck from side to side. Impossible or not, at least he could do something about it now.