Deployed (23 page)

The boy beside the man sat stiff and looked scared.

The man glanced over at Bekah and wore a hard look. When his eyes met Bekah’s gaze, he quickly looked away.

Warning bells went off in Bekah’s head. The boy wasn’t acting right either, and it wasn’t sickness or pain or even worry about the doctor that had him acting so strangely.

Bekah spoke in a low voice that barely carried. “Pike.”

“Yeah.” Pike turned to her.

“There’s a man and a boy over here at four o’clock.”

“Got them.” Pike’s expression remained neutral.

“Something’s not right.”

“They look okay to me.”

“Trust me. The boy’s not okay.” She still couldn’t put into words what bothered her about the scene, but she knew the disturbance was real.

Pike nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait here with the others. Cover me.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. But that kid’s not acting right.”

“All right.”

Bekah split off from her team and headed over to the line of waiting patients. The man looked at her suspiciously, but the boy never moved. Quietly, Bekah walked along the line of people and carried her rifle at the ready. She acted like she was checking the severity of the patients’ conditions, something that had gone on all day because Matthew wanted the weakest and sickest patients brought in immediately. Nurses and Marines had been making triage examinations, so her presence there wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Except that she had her team waiting on her.

The man’s dark gaze slid from her to the three Marines standing only a short distance away. He shifted nervously, his hands hidden inside his long coat. Bekah was eight people away when the man leaned over and spoke to the boy. The boy ignored him, continuing to stare at the blank wall across the alley. The man spoke again, more sharply this time.

Woodenly, the boy got to his feet and turned toward the clinic door. His eyes were vacant, but it wasn’t from sickness. It was from fear. The look in his eyes reminded Bekah of the time Travis had discovered a rat snake in the henhouse eating chicks. Bekah had been with him, and he’d looked like he had seen a monster.

That was the way this boy looked now.

“Hey.” Bekah stepped in front of the boy. “Are you all right?” She didn’t know if he spoke any English.

Although the boy stopped, he didn’t look up at her. He stood there like a statue.

Behind him, the man barked an order.

The boy shook for a moment, then lifted his hands and pulled the pin from a grenade he’d been hiding under his shirt.

Adrenaline hit Bekah, flooding her with that old, familiar fight-or-flight response. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that the grenade only had a three- or five-second delay before it detonated. The kill radius could be as much as fifteen yards. Several of the people waiting in line saw the grenade and went into a panic as they ran for their lives.

Knowing that she couldn’t run and get away in time, Bekah grabbed for the grenade. The boy tried desperately to hang on to the explosive, but she managed to knock it from his grasp, and it bounced onto the ground and rolled toward the man who accompanied him.

Seeing the grenade, the man kicked at it but missed. He had a pistol in one hand and fired three or four shots.

Everything moved slowly for Bekah. She felt like she was mired in molasses, a fly trapped in amber, and she thought of Travis and Granny and how she’d never get to see them again. At the same time, though, she was moving, rushing toward the man with the gun in spite of the weapon.

She knew she had to cover the grenade. The Marines had trained her for a situation just like this. It was better for one Marine to die than a half dozen, better that one Marine die instead of dozens of men, women, and children who had been seeking medical attention. And in the back of her mind, she thought of Matthew Cline’s words about the meaning of sacrifice.

The man pushed himself away from the wall and at her, evidently thinking he wanted to live a little longer. His path took him into Bekah’s way. Single-mindedly intent on diving to the ground, Bekah hit the man in the stomach with her shoulder. They went down in a tangle, flailing, and when they hit, Bekah was on top of him and the grenade was only inches away.

The man lay facedown, squalling in fear and struggling to get up. Acting on impulse, thinking only to cover the grenade, Bekah caught the explosive in a cupped palm and shoveled it under the terrorist. The grenade slid right under the man’s midsection, and she barely had time to get her hand and arm out before it detonated.

The horrific boom deafened her immediately and white noise buzzed through her head. She felt the man’s body jump beneath her and blood was suddenly everywhere, splattered across the ground and over the wall only a foot away. The air left her in a rush as the concussive force slammed into her through the terrorist’s body, and she felt something strike her body armor.

After a moment, she realized she was still alive, but blood was dripping into her right eye. She tried to get up, but her arms and legs wouldn’t work.

Then Pike was there, lifting her in his strong arms and holding her so he could survey her. Trudy and Tyler had set up a field-of-fire perimeter and were searching the crowd for anyone else who might have been involved with the attack.

Pike looked her in the eye.
“Are you all right?”

Bekah couldn’t hear him, but she read the big man’s lips. She nodded, and her head spun.

“You’re one crazy broad, do you know that?”

Bekah knew she was lucky. She’d intended on covering the grenade with her own body. She just hadn’t been able to.

Using his thumb, Pike wiped blood from her eye.
“C’mon, hero. We gotta have the doc take a look at you.”

She went with him, managing to walk under her own power despite her shaking legs. The boy stood there watching her, tears tracking down his face. Tentatively, not knowing what kind of response she would get, Bekah held an arm out to the boy. He hesitated, then came to her in a rush and wrapped his arms around her, holding tight as he cried.

27

SEATED IN THE COMMAND POST
and nursing a cold cup of coffee, Heath Bridger studied the court papers on Lance Corporal Bekah Shaw on his iPad. He’d already been through them a few times. He grimaced at what he was reading.

“Have you been oversampling the local cuisine again?”

Startled, Heath looked up and spotted Gunney Towers entering the room. Despite the long day, he looked immaculate and ready to go. The man was almost old enough to be Heath’s father, and he seemed to have energy to burn.

“I told you that your stomach is too tender for some of those spices.” Towers set a big stack of folders on Heath’s desk.

“It’s not the food.” Heath sighed and placed the iPad on the desk.

“I’ve seen that look before. There’s something that ain’t setting right with you.”

“Lance Corporal Shaw’s court case.”

Towers lifted a mocking eyebrow. “So, did she turn out to be some kind of felon after all?”

Heath shook his head. “From everything I’m seeing here—and I’m having to do a lot of reading between the lines to get the whole story—Bekah was trapped into a fight with a local guy.”

“Bekah? Not Lance Corporal Shaw?”

Heath frowned at Towers, who held his hands up in surrender.

“I assume you’re looking more favorably at . . . Bekah.” Towers didn’t crack a smile, but his dark eyes twinkled.

“I think I may have jumped to conclusions.”

“You were tired. Jet-lagged. She talks like a hillbilly girl, and you just figured she was a troublemaker.”

“Maybe.” But Heath knew that wasn’t all of it. Growing irritation filled him at the fact that Mark Kluger still hadn’t gotten in touch with him regarding the motion to set aside Darnell Lester’s death sentence. He hadn’t liked leaving things unsettled. No one at his father’s firm would shepherd Darnell the way Heath wanted the case handled, and he felt guilty about leaving the man.

“The girl’s getting railroaded?”

“Yeah. And I don’t know why. In a town that small, she should be some kind of hero.”

Towers sat in a chair in front of the desk and crossed his arms. “Not trying to say that I know more than you—”

“Of course not.” Heath waved a hand to get the gunney to continue.

“—but maybe when it comes to small towns, maybe I know more than you.” Towers grinned. “Heroes are particular things in small towns. Most people believe in them, and they support them because generally they know them. But sometimes jealousy gets in the way.”

“Jealousy?”

Towers nodded. “You take this little slip of a girl that’s become a Marine. Probably not many in her hometown joined up in the military. Got too many responsibilities at home. Got a family. Got a better job than the military pays.” He paused. “Or maybe none of them boys wants to run the risk of catching a bullet. A girl like Lance Corporal Bekah Shaw would stand out in a town like that.”

Heath sat back and listened.

“You’ve experienced it yourself anytime you’ve been in public in your fatigues or your uniform. Sometimes people give you respect. A nod. A hello. You might be in a restaurant and somebody picks up your dinner tab. And sometimes other people fight shy of you, look anywhere but at you.”

Heath knew that was true.

“I don’t know what our lance corporal has got going on back home, but I’m betting that part of it is the fact that she don’t quite fit in no more. She makes people uncomfortable. She’s been out in the world. The
big
world. And she’s seen more trouble than them people are ever gonna see. The problem is, they don’t know her no more—if they ever did—and they ain’t sure they want to be on her team.”

“Because she’s an outsider.” Heath understood that. He was an outsider in his father’s world; that had been apparent since he’d become a man.

“Bingo.” Towers smiled.

“Do you think that’s what’s going on here?”

“Me?” Towers smiled again. “Wasn’t me come in here full of questions.”

“You asked me first.”

“Only if you had indigestion. You brought up the rest of it.”

Heath grinned and leaned forward again. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“Yep.”

“At any rate, I got the paperwork filed for her.” Working through military channels was easier than dealing with his father’s law firm. That was one of the things Heath loved about being a Marine. “She’s good to go till she gets back.”

“At which time she’s still facing whatever charge she left behind.”

“We’ll see.” Heath picked up his iPad. “In the meantime, we’ve drawn a new assignment.”

“Something more than street sweeping?”

“Yeah. Command wants Indigo to accompany a medical relief effort to the southwest. There’s an IDP facility a few days out that’s in desperate need of resupplying and medical personnel.”

Towers thought about that for a time. “We’ve still got a lot of green Marines attached to this unit. That ambush set us back.”

“I know. We’re also supposed to do some recon while we’re in the bush.” Heath pushed the iPad toward Towers to reveal the face of the man on the screen.

Towers picked up the iPad and studied the scarred face of the man revealed there. “Who’s this?”

“Rageh Daud. He’s running what appears to be an independent operation out in the bush.”

“What kind of operation?”

“He’s been taking down medical shipments. A few weeks ago Daud attacked a medical convoy, killed several military guardsmen, took all the cargo, and kidnapped a doctor.” Heath motioned for Towers to scroll through the pictures he’d gotten with the file, showing the burned remains of two jeeps and corpses littering the ground.

“Man knows his business.”

Heath nodded.

“What happened to the doctor?”

“Daud took him to a small village, had him treat some of the people there who needed an actual doctor, not just medicines, and later let him go outside of Mogadishu. Marines around the city found Dr. Brandon Sykes stumbling around in the wilderness and brought him back into our care.”

“Was he hurt?”

Heath shook his head. “Totally freaked by everything that happened, but otherwise in good health.”

“Sounds like Daud is running his own care package.”

“If you don’t count the people he killed to take that cargo.”

“Well, that’s a fly in the buttermilk.”

“Command didn’t quite put it that way. They want us to find Daud. If we can, we’re supposed to bring him in or put him down.”

“They care which?”

“No. Interestingly enough, it appears the al-Shabaab is also hunting Daud. In particular, Haroun is tracking him. Or trying to. Evidently Daud is a ghost out there somewhere. He’s got a small team, keeps it moving, and doesn’t step into anything he can’t handle.”

“Chasing a fox.”

“Haroun is, and so are we. Command is of the opinion that we might be able to find Daud and Haroun somewhere close together out there. CIA intel from assets in those areas seems to point to the same eventuality.”

“I take it Command is thinking we can take out two birds with one stone?”

“They are. When we find one—or both—we’re supposed to call in a drone attack and try to put them down.”

Towers passed the iPad back. “Sounds easy enough, but you and I know things don’t really work out that way.”

The search for Haroun’s underground bomb-making factory had been a grim reminder of that.

Towers leaned back in his chair with his hands in his lap. “How did we get Daud’s picture?”

“One of the CIA assets had a digital camera. Dropped it in the city to his handler, and it filtered to us.”

“We know anything about Daud?”

Heath frowned. “Not much. The CIA and military intelligence managed to track him back nine years, which is surprising given the state of records and bookkeeping in the area. Until a few months ago, Daud was a stand-up guy. He went to work, had a family, and kept his head down.”

“What happened?”

“His family got killed in an al-Shabaab attack. Daud lost his wife and son. After that, he disappeared.”

“Until he reappeared and started boosting medical cargoes.”

“That’s right. The CIA’s asset also stated that Daud is actively recruiting from among the groups he helps.”

“He’s trading medicines for young men.” Towers stroked his massive chin. “Be an easy thing to do. Roll into one of those groups living hand to mouth, show them how they could be living if they followed him, and he’d have a lot of young boys flocking to him. Selling the dream.”

Heath nodded.

“So what’s Daud’s endgame? What does he want out of all this?”

“CIA thinks maybe Daud’s in it for revenge.”

Towers shook his head. “Then what? This guy is old enough to know that revenge isn’t going to be enough.”

“For the moment, that may be all he has. I think he’s out of control. He’s hurting, and he’s going to hurt people back.”

Towers’s eyes narrowed. “Got some experience with this, do you?”

“Back in the real world, I’ve represented a lot of guys for my father’s firm who were exactly like this. They live in small worlds, places only they can go to. A guy like Daud builds himself a prison of grief, and he can’t get out of it by himself. He’s got to let someone in.”

“Surrounding himself with a bunch of greedy guns and people mad at the world isn’t going to provide that person.”

“No. That’s why prisons don’t work for the most part.”

“Felons I’ve run across in my life don’t ever change their ways. They start out a bully or addict or killer, they generally die that way. You ever seen a convict change on the inside of a penitentiary?”

Heath thought of Darnell Lester and heard the man’s gentle voice inside his head.
“Then I’ll be askin’ God to look over you too.”
Heath had heard that promise again and again over the last few weeks. It wouldn’t leave his mind.

“I have, Gunney. He’s a good man who just got caught up in a bad situation.”

“Then we’re talking about different men.” Towers spoke softly. “I’m talking about truly evil men. Do we have anything else on Daud?”

Heath flicked through the files on the iPad. “The CIA made a connect to another name, but there’s nothing concrete that links Rageh Daud to this other guy.”

“Who?”

“A man named Parvez Daud.”

“No relation?”

“None that can be found, but the CIA has picked up whispers that there is a connection through a man named Afrah. Parvez Daud was an ex-Somali soldier turned bandit. He abandoned the military and began looking out for himself. Judging by the file on him, banditry suited him well.” Heath paused. “Until he got himself killed ten years ago.”

“About the time Rageh Daud showed up in Mogadishu.”

Heath grinned. “You caught that.”

“I’m smarter than I look.” Towers grinned back. “So Rageh Daud walked away from his father’s business, found himself a straight civilian life, lost his family, and returned to what he knew.”

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

“What about the CIA?”

“The agent I talked to believes that Rageh Daud was working some kind of angle. They’re looking into a link between Daud and Haroun to see if Daud was working with the al-Shabaab and got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and that was why his family was targeted.”

“Anything to support that?”

Heath shook his head. “Nothing that I can see here.”

“Then they’re playing guessing games. Doesn’t sound like Daud was hiding.”

“He had a job and stayed with it.”

“The al-Shabaab could have found him there easily enough and taken him off the board.”

“I agree.”

“The way this shapes up, we’ve got one really bad man out there and a loose cannon gunning for him.”

“And Indigo Rifle Platoon is going to be in the middle of it.”

Towers toasted with his coffee cup. “Good times.”

“We’re going to have our jobs cut out for us keeping everybody alive.”

“That’s why they’re sending Marines.”