Edge of the Heat 6 (6 page)

She sat down and waited for Uncle Kevin. She studied her coffee and her phone. Uncle Kevin was a big boy. She didn’t need to watch the door for him.

***

JT snuck another glance at the gorgeous brunette with the long wavy hair and the to-die-for freckles. He loved freckles. And she didn’t just have a few. She had a generous splash of freckles across both cheeks, her nose, and even her chin. He wished she would just turn in that big chair a little bit, just enough for him to get another look at her face.
Oh well
, he thought. Even if he wasn’t here on horrible, important business, it’s not like he would strike up a conversation with her or anything. She’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t want him to speak to her when he’d smiled at her and she’d just glared back. He couldn’t help but think about those freckles though, and all that brown hair. He hadn’t seen freckles like that since Tina… He cut his thoughts off there and flicked his eyes to the door to watch for Colonel Clarkson. No sense thinking about Tina. There was nothing but pain down that road.

JT heard a loud clatter somewhere in the bowels of the cafe, as if a tray full of dishes had been tipped over. He glanced at the counter, but no employees stood there. They must all be in the back dealing with whatever was going on. Idly, he watched a tall man in a tailored dishdasha, the floor-length white robe that many men in the region wore, whispering into a man’s ear who was seated near him. The man stood up quickly and walked out the front door stiffly.

JT’s gut constricted suddenly and he sat up very straight, absently tucking his phone in his pocket. His eyes crawled over the cafe, cataloging the customers. The beautiful woman with the freckles, the man in the dishdasha, and only one other Kuwaiti woman sitting alone at a table. JT’s gut constricted harder. There had been at least 10 people sitting in overstuffed chairs when he came in and sat down, and he hadn’t seen any of them leave. And the guy in the dishdasha hadn’t been here and he hadn’t seen him come in.
Get out now
, his gut prodded. JT stood up, his coffee forgotten. He took a step towards the door, then half-turned toward the woman in the corner who had glared at him when she entered. If something was going down in here, he should warn her and the other woman. He knew he would sound like an idiot, but he had to try anyway.

In front of him, the man in the dishdasha murmured a few words to the Kuwaiti woman in Arabic. JT knew a bit of Arabic and a bit of Farsi, but he couldn’t tell what the man had said. The woman stood up quickly, threw a worried glance behind her, and ran out the door like the man before her. JT’s internal alarm pinged harder. He had to get out of here
now
. He wouldn’t leave the woman though, he’d at least try to warn her.

Before he could get halfway across the room, the remaining man spoke a single word towards the hallway behind the checkout counter, loudly. JT saw the woman in the corner look up, alarm in her own eyes. Noise from the hallway drew his eye. Six more men in full, white dishdashas, plus all wearing checkered keffiyehs on their heads, crowded out of the hallway in single file. The sight of the AK-47s in their hands chilled JT.
This was very bad
.

The man who had sent the other cafe customers out the door smiled broadly at him. “Sergeant Taylor, yes?” he said in perfect English with only the slightest accent.

JT’s body tensed and he unconsciously turned sideways, away from the six men who were now lined up in front of the counter, all of their heads cocked and their guns pointed at him.
You’re toast JT, just get the woman out of here,
he told himself, accepting his fate as much as a Marine ever does. Could Colonel Clarkson possibly be behind this? Did it even matter at this point? It did to the innocent young woman in the corner. Why hadn’t the man sent her outside with everyone else? JT put his hands up and took two more steps towards the brunette. Her eyes seemed too big for her face. She looked from him to the men with guns swiftly, ping-ponging her glance back and forth.

JT addressed the first man. “You obviously want me. Let her go.”

To her, he quietly said, “Get up slowly, walk behind me with your hands up, to the door.” She started to do as he said, her face pale and drawn.

The first man laughed arrogantly. “Oh no, she will not be going anywhere.” He stepped to the door himself, opened it and made a gesture outside of it, then stepped back inside. Four more men in dishdashas, two from each side, passed the front windows and came in the door. As they entered, they produced guns and pointed them at JT. His mind raced. Were they being taken hostage?

The man who had spoken spread his hands wide and gestured to them to walk towards the counter, a firm smile on his face. JT could see no way out. Suddenly he felt very afraid, and very responsible for the young woman with the freckles. This had to have everything to do with him - they knew his name - and she was just along for the unfortunate, probably-deadly ride.

JT swallowed and considered his options. His mind ticked off possibilities with lightning speed. In essence, they all boiled down to either fight or submit. If the woman weren’t here this would be so much easier. If he were only responsible for himself, he would fight to the death without hesitation. He swore lightly to himself and took a slow step towards the counter, trying to buy time.

He studied the man with the smile and thought about the KA-Bar fighting knife in his boot. He could take this man and use him as a shield long enough to get the woman out of here.

The man with the smile must have seen it in his eyes. His smile grew wider and he said, “Fucking move or the lady gets a bullet to the knee.” He could have been asking JT about the weather with that smile and his light tone of voice. The contrast with the actual words he spoke chilled JT even further and he knew why. This man was completely insane.

JT glanced at the woman in the chair. She stared at him openly, fear stamped across her features. She hadn’t moved yet. She seemed to be waiting for him. He hesitated one more second, and the man with the horrible smile raised his fingers. One of the gunmen ran over to them and trained his gun on the woman’s legs.

“We’re moving, we’re moving!” JT shouted, grabbing the woman’s hand and pulling her out of the chair and in the direction they were being herded.

Now he knew why the woman was being kept. To control him.

12 hours later

Westwood Harbor

Sara walked quietly into the kitchen of Jerry's house and stopped next to the big stainless steel fridge, anxiety eating at her insides. Her decision was made, but it was the part coming next that scared her. She wasn’t seeking approval, not really. The call had been made, the President had given her the green light, and plans were in the works. She was doing this.

When she thought about her past, her background as a killing machine for the now defunct (because of massive corruption and secrecy) DCIA, the only clear choice was the one she was making. Isn't this what she'd been doing for years now? Liberating people? Killing those who would seek to keep them oppressed? And since she was 1/4 Egyptian and could speak Farsi and Arabic - it was like this was the ultimate job she'd actually been trained for since birth.

Maybe what she was really seeking was support. And that was something she had never looked for before. She’d always made her decisions and carried them out with very little assistance or support from anyone. But now she was in a relationship with Jerry. And Jerry was close friends with these four people. And these four people were related to the man she was going to save. Brother or brother-in-law. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Relationships complicated things.

Her eyes fixed on Jerry who had his gaze locked intently on Hawk, who was talking. Jerry was the only one she really cared about. If he didn’t support her she didn’t know what she would do. Would it be a relationship-breaker already? She fervently prayed it wasn’t. Because it wasn’t like she was just going to stay home and be a housewife now. That wasn’t her. Well, at least not until they had babies. Her hands curled around her belly again. Babies. She had a chance to have babies and she was contemplating this crazy mission? What was wrong with her?
Not contemplating
, the inner voice she liked to call Miss-All-Business spoke up.
Planning. You are planning this mission. You were practically born for this mission, and you are the only one who has a chance to save those two people.
She nodded at her inner dialogue. She knew she was right, and she knew this was right. Now to convince everyone else.

She focused on Hawk’s words. “But you know what happened three months ago. If the Marines go in to get him, he’s going to wind up with his head cut off!”

Vivian put her head in her hands at this. Hawk winced and rubbed her shoulders, but he didn’t apologize or take it back. He was right and Vivian knew it. Sara checked every face at the table and they all knew it. They had all seen what happened on TV. Three months ago this new Islamic extremist group, the NIB - or Northern Islamic Brotherhood, had surfaced, sending challenges to the President directly via Al Jazeera TV. No one took them seriously, until some of them managed to take four American soldiers hostage, one of them a female. A small group of Marines found the soldiers and raided the encampment they were in. As the Marines surrounded the encampment and went in with the intention of rescuing the soldiers, the extremists had simply killed each of the soldiers, then stood and fought the Marines, knowing full well they wouldn’t win. But the NIB had considered it a victory anyway, even though they had lost a large contingent of men. They were now taken seriously, and the blow to the American morale had been huge. Staggering. Americans started to march at home, demanding all troops be pulled out of the Middle East. The President’s approval rating slipped below 40%. And four American soldiers were gone forever.

And now this same group of extremists had Emma and Vivian’s brother.

She took a deep breath. Hawk had made it easy for her. They were looking for an answer and she was going to give it to them.

She walked to the table. Jerry stood up and offered her his chair. She took it with an appreciative smile. He kissed her cheek and rubbed her shoulders. Not because she was tight, but because he hadn’t stopped touching her for weeks now. She said a little prayer that he would understand.

“Hawk’s right,” she said, getting straight to the point. “And that’s why I am going to go in instead.”

The tension level in the room doubled. Jerry’s hands tightened on her shoulders. Emma’s mouth dropped open. Vivian took her head out of her hands and gaped at her. Craig crossed his arms and leaned back with a skeptical look on his face, and Hawk just stared, like he didn’t understand what she had just said.

“You’re going in? What do you mean, you are going in?” Emma asked.

“I fly out this afternoon. I’m going to free your brother.”

“By yourself?” Emma said, her voice raising an octave.

“No, I have CIA and Army support. In fact, the CIA operative who was supposed to be in charge seems thrilled that I am taking over. He didn’t sound very sure of his ability to get him out alive.”

“And you are sure you can get him out alive?” Emma asked.

Sara nodded. “Very sure.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jerry said, his hands leaving her shoulder. He pulled a chair right next to her, his mouth pained and his eyes fearful. “You are going to the Middle East and you, yourself, are going to go into this tent and free him?”

This is going badly already
, Sara thought. But she didn’t know what to do about it. She nodded. She pleaded with him with her eyes.
Please understand
.

“Why you?!” Jerry cried, standing so quickly his chair fell over backwards. He didn’t wait for an answer, but paced his kitchen with his hand on his head.

“Because I am his best hope. His best chance at survival. Because they won’t be expecting a woman. Because I speak Farsi and Arabic. Because I know the customs. Because this is what I do,” she said simply.

Craig broke in. “They won’t be expecting a woman is right, but they will know something is wrong as soon as they see you. They don’t have any women out there in the desert at all, do they?”

Sara watched Jerry who was still pacing. He wasn’t looking at her. Hadn’t looked at her since she made her announcement. She didn’t know what to do, so she did nothing. She answered Craig’s question, but her eyes never left Jerry.

“We know where they are. They are at a camp in the Sinai Peninsula in the middle of the desert. Our government has been watching this camp with drones for months, trying to determine its purpose. It has supply runs and even some sort of maid service. Women go in and out daily.”

Jerry stopped pacing and returned to the chair, his face composed but sad. Sara’s heart broke a little that she made him look like that. He still didn’t look at her. Instead he stared at the lines on the table.

Hawk sat forward now. “What do you mean, we know where
they
are? Only Sergeant Taylor has been taken hostage right?”

Sara finally looked up from Jerry. She settled for taking his hand. She looked straight at Hawk and shook her head. “No. It’s him and a woman. A reporter. That’s how they were found so quickly. The woman carries a tiny GPS tracker on her body. Lots of reporters over there do these days apparently, for just this kind of thing. It was switched on 12 hours ago and her news station got the information to the government a few hours ago. Otherwise they would probably still be looking for them.”