Operation Mockingbird (27 page)

A musty, pungent smell pinched his nostrils. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the blackness, and even then, he could see nothing. He slid his right hand down the wall. Finding the light switch, he flicked it. Nothing happened. Shots reverberated off the door from the other side.

Matt took two tentative steps forward. He almost plunged into darkness before realizing the floor beneath his right foot had disappeared. He grabbed the air and his hand hit a railing. They were standing at the top of a metal stairwell.

“Follow me,” Matt said as he descended the stairs into the darkness. “Just hang on to this railing.”

Despite Matt and Alex’s slow and cautious movements, the metal stairs echoed loudly. The pounding on the other side of the door had stopped.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Matt reached out with one hand. Holding the banister, he turned and walked under the stairwell. If this was a hurricane shelter, as Matt suspected, there had to be an alternate power source. Matt searched the darkness tentatively with his hands. Hurricanes had been known to take out the power anywhere from days to weeks in South Florida, and a military installation such as this would undoubtedly be prepared. Finally, he found what he was looking for. A generator.

“What are you doing, Matt?” Alex called from behind him.

“Just a minute,” he said as he continued to maneuver in the darkness underneath the stairwell. Within moments, he had the diesel generator roaring to life. The lights flickered on weakly.

The area was cavernous, like a fallout shelter designed to withstand a nuclear attack. The Florida limestone served as a natural floor and as walls for the underground compound. Cases of bottled water and canned foods, medical supplies, sleeping bags and flashlights lined the walls. This was hurricane preparedness in South Florida post-Hurricane Katrina style.

“There must be another exit,” Matt began. “One that’s some distance away. They would have been concerned that
the entrance would be blocked if the building was completely leveled.”

Alex nodded.

Matt scanned the room. On the far wall, a map of the facility hung prominently. A red arrow helpfully pointed out their current location. He walked over and ripped the map off the wall. It showed a sweeping labyrinth that appeared to span the entire complex. Passageways led to each of the buildings and beyond. There were several different exits. Matt quickly identified two passages that led to exits outside the complex.

As Alex looked over his shoulder, Matt traced one of the passages with his finger. “This route will get us closer to the car but we’ll still be inside the gate so we’d still have to get past the guard station.”

Alex pointed to another route. “This exit will get us outside and away from the complex,” she noted before turning to Matt.

“They’ll expect us to take the route that gets us out of the complex and the farthest away,” Matt said with more decisiveness than he felt.

“I say we go with this one,” Matt continued as he pointed to the map.

Alex nodded.

Matt looked at Alex and then reached toward her. He grabbed the visitor’s tag hanging from her neck and ripped it off.

“You won’t be needing this anymore,” Matt said before ripping off his own. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE UNDERGROUND COMPLEX was being powered solely by the emergency generator so the eerily quiet passageways were dimly lit. But Matt knew that the light and the silence would be relatively short-lived if -- or more likely when -- Rabin and Harrison figured out where he and Alex were in the underground maze.

He had identified several exits on the map, most leading to other buildings on the campus. Rabin would know, as Matt did, that in light of the sophisticated security system, Matt and Alex could be trapped at any of those exits without the proper ID badges. The security clearance designations on their badges were limited before, but likely more so now that they had revealed their true intentions. Only two exits were not inside a building, leaving few options for Matt and Alex as well as few exits for Rabin to cover.

“So, Alex, tell me who’s side are you on now?” Matt couldn’t resist asking Alex as they moved quietly through the tunnels.

“Matt --”

“And, will you be switching teams again anytime soon?” Matt interrupted before she could respond. “I’d really like to know before we come face to face with Rabin and his goons again.”

“Let me explain.”

“You can understand why I might be a little confused.”

“Listen, Matt.” Alex grabbed his arm and he was forced to slow down. “The stuff I told you about me -- my family, college, the Army -- that was all true.”

This time he didn’t interrupt but he kept walking.

“Two years ago,” Alex continued, “my unit was deployed to Germany. From there we were sent to the front lines in Afghanistan about once a month, usually for two to three weeks at a time.” She hesitated. “For most of our missions we were dropped into hot zones, given a target and told to get in and out as quickly as possible. We’d been doing this for over a year.”

“I’ve heard all this before, Alex,” Matt interrupted gruffly. “Incredibly intense times. I get it. But what does that have to do with your lying to me, Stephen, Bob and who knows how many other people?”

She turned away from him and started walking again.

“On our last mission,” she continued slowly, “tensions were particularly high. We’d just received word that the military had postponed -- yet again -- the date that we’d be returning stateside. CNN was also reporting on a suicide
attack that had killed ten soldiers. It was on that note that we were asked to carry out yet another night raid.”

Matt recalled that night raids were regarded as the most effective tool against the Taliban insurgents. Commanders and whole groups of fighters had been killed or captured during these missions. They were also highly dangerous, with many coalition lives lost during these nighttime skirmishes.

“We were a relatively small group,” Alex said. “All Special Forces. We were sent into a village called Mian.”

Matt knew the village formally named Mian Poshteh. It was a farming community located in a remote district in Southern Afghanistan. It was used by the Taliban fighters as a supply route. The Marines spent several long months attempting to clear insurgents from the volatile region.

“The attacks were typically very quick and precise,” Alex explained. “More so now ... you know, since the U.S. military started taking a lot of heat for operations that resulted in civilian casualties. On this one we were instructed to go in hard and fast. We were told that there was a militia meeting going on, that the men inside were heavily armed and that there were no civilians in the house. This was supposed to be good intelligence.” She paused for a moment. “But that turned out not to be the case.”

Matt felt sick to his stomach. He continued listening.

“We did just as we were told.” She continued slowly. “We went in hard and fast. But the insurgents must have gotten wind of us.” Her breathing grew harsher and the words now began to tumble out. “They had their weapons locked and loaded. Bullets started flying as soon as we
crashed through the door.” Alex shook her head at the memory. “One of the insurgents raced to the back of the house. My captain and I -- we followed him. My captain, Rick was his name, had already been hit once. He didn’t even realize it until later.”

She stopped now, but she looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with Matt. “The room in the back was full of women and children. And there was no way out -- not even a window. The guy we were chasing had grabbed one of the women. She was across the room holding a baby. And this guy was pointing his gun at her threatening to shoot.” Alex caught her breath.

She turned to look at Matt now. He could see shock and horror in her eyes even at only the memory.

“We were screaming at him. The woman was screaming and the baby was crying.”

Alex paused.

“What happened, Alex?” Matt prodded.

“Rick shot him. The man fell to the ground. Dead, I’m sure now. No return fire.” She paused before continuing. “And then Rick shot him again. And again. He kept firing. I shouted at him. I punched him, but he kept screaming and firing all over the room. I hit him again. Finally, after Rick had emptied his magazine, he stopped. And then he just stood there.”

They were standing now, neither moving, Matt looking at Alex and Alex looking at the floor.

“After he was done, after I could breathe again, I looked around the room and saw that he had killed the mother. The child too. He had cut them to ribbons.

“Oh my god, Alex.”

“It was an awful scene, Matt. Like nothing I’d ever seen before. And I’d seen some terrible stuff.” She shook her head before continuing. “The woman. The baby. I’ll never get that scene out of my head.”

Matt reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Alex.”

She nodded her head, turned away from him and began walking again.

“And that’s when my trouble began,” she said softly from his side.

“What trouble?” Matt grabbed her arm, stopped her and then turned her to face him. “What are you talking about? The guy cracked under pressure. Extreme pressure. That wasn’t your fault.”

Alex paused and looked away. “By the time we had contained the situation, all the insurgents were dead, but so were two civilians. This was a nightmare situation, Matt. The President of Afghanistan was already threatening to kick U.S. forces out of the country. He was just looking for an excuse. Any excuse. And we had just given it to him.”

“So, Rick wanted to ...” she faltered and heaved a heavy sigh before continuing. “On the way back to base no one said anything. When we finally got there, Rick immediately pulled me aside. He said we needed to get our stories straight.”

Matt didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t have to.

“The insurgent he killed had a gun. On this point, we agreed. Rick wanted me to say that the man had held the woman and child in front of him and started shooting. And
that Rick had no choice other than to return fire. He had to injure the woman to get to the insurgent and then to keep shooting until the gunman was immobilized.”

“What did you do, Alex?”

“I told him I wouldn’t go along with it,” she replied. “I was reporting the events as I had witnessed them. I figured that by telling exactly what I had seen, he might get some help. I thought I would be doing the right thing.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, my captain wasn’t happy, to say the least. He tried to convince me to change my story, to confirm that he had no choice but to fire and then keep firing. I think he actually had convinced himself of that. He also said that by telling my version, I would be ruining his career. When that didn’t work, he threatened me. I still wouldn’t agree.”

“So, ultimately, it came down to his word against yours,” Matt said.

“Exactly.” Alex nodded. “But, he had the higher rank. More importantly, he had the story everyone really wanted to hear. The story that would keep the U.S. military out of trouble with the Afghan government. I should have known I would take the fall.”

Alex shrugged her shoulders. “Shortly after my report, I was approached by the FBI for a special assignment back in the United States. At this point, staying with my unit wasn’t an option so I accepted.”

“What kind of assignment?”

“The FBI knew about some ex-military personnel who were working for private military companies and, in some cases, engaging in illegal activities. They must have assumed
I was the kind of operative the PMC would like – particularly after the stories that were circulating about what happened in Mian. So they wanted me to infiltrate the group, to find out exactly what they were doing.”

“That couldn’t have been easy,” Matt said.

“It was easy getting inside. Back then, PMCs were hiring like crazy. With my military training -- combined with the stories the FBI planted about me being not afraid to get my hands’ dirty -- I was an ideal candidate. So after sending out a few resumes to companies that said they were looking for former military personnel for some consulting work, I was contacted by Rabin. He told me he worked for a newly formed company that was looking to do some domestic and foreign private military work. After a couple of meetings and a background check, they hired me.”

“But this doesn’t explain what happened with Bob and why you set me up, Alex.” Matt looked over at her quickly.

“I was assigned by Rabin to keep an eye on Bob. I used my cover to get to know him and he introduced me to Stephen. Even after I figured out what was going on, why I had been asked to watch Bob and Stephen, I had no idea they would actually kill Bob.”

“Well, they did,” Matt said angrily. “And now his wife is raising two small children by herself.”

Alex winced.

“You’re right, Matt. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I’m not making excuses,” she continued quickly. “But once I knew how deadly serious these guys were, I tried to find Stephen before Rabin did. Clearly, I didn’t. So, yeah, their deaths are on me.”

She didn’t say anything more for a few seconds and then she continued. “Your name came up a few times when I met with Bob and Stephen. So when you came back into the country and popped up on our radar, I got as close to you as possible. I convinced Rabin that Stephen would likely contact you and by getting close to you, we’d be able to track down Stephen. At first I did that because I wanted to protect you. But later,” she looked up at him, “it became more personal.”

Matt didn’t say anything.

“I was undercover, pretending to be something I wasn’t, working for that sociopath Rabin and his sidekick Harrison. When I was assigned to watch you, it was business at first -- ideally, a means of exposing what they were doing and ending this assignment.” She paused and then turned to look at him. “Last night was real, Matt. That wasn’t me doing my job.”

Matt looked over at her and knew that she meant it. He could also tell that after all she had told him, she wanted him to say something, maybe some words of forgiveness or at least kindness. The words didn’t come. The master of the English language was once again at a loss.