Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) (14 page)

“CIA odor?”

“Normally I’d say aura, but since he’s CIA . . .”

“Right.”

“I think you’re wrong about Heather, she seems too sweet. Let’s just you and I keep a watch on both of them. At least until I can talk to Jack.”

“Deal.”

With that said, Sydney reclined her chair back as far as it allowed and, twisting her gun out of her ribcage, closed her eyes, leaving Eric to watch the CDC and the CIA.

•      •      •

Sitting in the back of the plane with his own laptop in front of him, Jack was watching footage recovered from the security cameras. He had retained all that they had recovered, and so far it supported the identity of the bomber as the one in the video on
Al Jazeera.
The video wizards back at headquarters would enhance the picture, clean it up, and provide a positive identification, but Jack was sure it was the same kid. They were still looking for his friends and his mullah, but the major said it was most likely they were in hiding whether they were innocent or not. They all feared reprisal. It would be some time before they returned.

Jack glanced around the cabin and assured himself that everyone was either busy with their own assignments or sleeping before he reached in his pocket and pulled another disk out. He slid the disk in the drive and adjusted his screen so no one could see it if they walked by to the lavatory. While it was booting up, he pulled the visor down over the oval window to eliminate any reflection.

He was soon looking at a number of video files labeled by number and corresponding to the embassy cameras they had searched for the last few days. These files were from a few days prior to the attack. Jack had come up with the lame excuse of needing them for comparison purposes, and had been given them without question by an embassy staffer. He reviewed the footage from the warehouse, fast forwarding through periods of non-activity. He noticed the young native boy on the forklift and the drug company representative. He located the meds and watched them come and go. The angle of the camera did not cover the loading dock and Jack could not see the identity of every truck driver that brought supplies. He froze the image of the ones he could see and saved them to another file. As he became better at scanning the video he sped it up, hitting the pause key every once in awhile to catch something. He once slowed it long enough to watch a conversation between the drug representative and a deliveryman. The deliveryman stayed just off camera, as if he knew it was there. Jack was beginning to think he wouldn’t see any of their faces when he was suddenly treated to a close-up of the forklift driver’s face. His nose filled the camera’s view before he leaned back and rubbed the lens clean. With each circular motion the camera edged a hair to the right. The boy checked his work when finished and Jack could see right up his nose for a brief second. He then disappeared down the ladder and Jack was treated to a different view than he’d had previously. He had gained about five feet of view to the right into the loading dock. Curiously, there was a painted line on the floor where his view had ended before. Jack fast forwarded ahead until another truck arrived. The boy was quickly on the forklift, unloading more medications and stacking them at the far end of the warehouse. After a few trips, the pharmaceutical rep walked to the far end, leaving the boy alone. The boy suddenly stopped his trip and appeared to be listening to someone. He parked the forklift and ran into the office, returning with three bottles of water from the refrigerator inside. Jack watched him walk toward the line on the floor where he was met by the deliveryman stepping forward.

Jack quickly paused the film. Tinkering with the video options he found the zoom feature and focused it on the man’s face. He lost some picture quality as he blew it up, but it retained enough for him to get a good look at the man.

Jack reached for the file Sydney had given him and shook out a few photos. He paged through them until he found the one he wanted. He compared it to the face on his screen.

The man in the photo was the man Corporal Sullivan had shot in the street, the same one who blew up the truck with a satchel charge. The same one who’d had laser surgery on his Special Forces tattoo. The one Sydney claimed didn’t exist.

•      •      •

“This isn’t so bad, feels more like ninety-eight or so, beats a hundred any day.” Larry commented as they left the plane in Nairobi. He painfully hoisted a bag over his shoulder and stalked off toward the waiting embassy vans. Eric and Sydney shared a smile before they followed, Heather close behind, all of them just taking the heat in stride. An embassy staffer approached them.

“Mr. Randall?” he asked.

“Over there,” Sydney pointed. “The tall guy with the fishing shirt and the limp.”

“Thank you.”

Sydney paused and watched the man run on until he met Jack and handed him a large envelope. Jack scanned the first few pages before waving Greg over. They had a brief conversation before they quickly gathered their bags and followed the rest of them. Sydney watched his face and was surprised to see a grin. Must be good news, she thought.

She fell in behind Jack and Greg as they passed and found a seat behind them on the van. She leaned over their seatbacks so they would know she was eavesdropping.

“They’re sending the team over now?” Greg asked.

“That’s what it says. Should be in place within twelve hours,” Jack answered.

“Are you guys gonna share, or are you just holding out on me?” Sydney asked.

Jack craned his neck to give her a look. She shot it right back with a smile. Greg held up a picture for her to see. It was a grainy satellite shot of a man standing next to a Jeep in the desert. Without saying anything he flipped to the next shot, a full frontal. Then the next, a head shot. The last thing he showed her was a wanted page from the FBI.

“Mohammed Ahmed Al-Nasser again? Is this our bomber?” she asked.

“We think so. NSA got some intercepts and some of them foolishly dropped his name. We also know he was in Somalia a few weeks ago, with a possible sighting here in Nairobi a few days before the bombing,” Jack explained. “He’s Al Qaeda’s resident explosives expert, son of a rich Saudi family, educated in Europe with a degree in engineering. He ditched the family business in favor of terrorism about six years ago. Since then he’s been spotted in their propaganda tapes, and he’s believed to have helped with the Cole bombing. The Bureau’s been after him for years.”

“So where’s he now?”

“These photos show him getting out of this Jeep near the Sudan-Kenyan border. The Jeep was followed since it crossed the Tanzanian border a day after the bombing,” Greg answered.

“Followed? By what?”

“A Predator drone and some satellites.” Jack smiled. “We think he’s headed for a safe-house in Sudan.”

“More like a safe-tent, but it won’t matter either way,” Greg added.

Sydney nodded as she took it all in, then it dawned on her.

“You guys are going after him,” she declared. “I don’t mean some team of super-troopers. You two are going after him.”

“Well, we hope to, and we’ll be sure to take some ninjas with us,” Greg answered.

Jack didn’t say anything. The look he was getting from her was bad enough. They hadn’t been an item in many years, but that didn’t stop her from becoming the concerned girlfriend. There was nothing he could say, at least not here. There would be a talk sometime in the future. They both knew it.

“I’ll brief everyone when we get to the embassy. We should know a lot more in a few hours.”
We can talk then,
his look said.

Sydney dropped back in her seat and looked out the window. The African dust obscured her view of the passing city. The window reflected the concern on her face.

•      •      •

“NSA confirms it. It’s him!” Greg stated as he hung up the phone.

Jack nodded, but did not take his eyes off the three flat screen monitors hanging on the wall in the basement of the embassy. With the permission of the ambassador, they had commandeered a large conference room, and it was now being used to help coordinate the attack on the small camp in the Sudanese bush country. Jack had a Navy Seal team commander on one screen and a Joint Operations Air Force general out of Fort McDill, Florida on the other. The general’s aide was listing the assets they had for the operation.

“Twelve Navy SEALs and two Air Force Close Combat Control people will HALO into the target off the carrier
Reagan
, currently in the Gulf of Aden deterring pirate activity. They’ll do the initial assault on the camp and be supported by two Cobra gunships from the same carrier battle group. The security and extraction team will then come in from the Kenyan border using two Pave-hawks. We are allowing for five minutes maximum on the ground before all units leave. For support we’ll have medical standing by using the embassy Blackhawk at the border. A Hawkeye and a squadron of Hornets off the
Reagan
will provide air superiority. If we should have any prisoners, they’ll be extracted to the
Reagan.
Alternate airfields have been sent. All assets will be in place in three hours. Once everything is in position, the chairman will notify the President. We go on his word, any questions?”

Jack had a few, but he kept them to himself and let the SEAL commander speak. They discussed frequencies, approach contingencies, alternate extrications, door thickness at the target, and a few other items before he paused. Here it comes, Jack thought.

“Mr. Randall, I mean no disrespect, but are you sure you wish to join us on this?” the commander asked.

Before he could answer, Greg spoke up. “He’s been doing this longer than you, Charlie. You just try to keep up.”

Jack had to smile. “Back in my day we only had to send four guys in to take one out. You guys are taking forty? That’s just sad.”

The SEAL team commander took the jab with a knowing smile and read between the lines. “Okay, we’ll see you when you come get us.”

“We’ll try to be on time.”

“Everybody happy?” the general asked. He got yes sirs all around. “I want final operation plans in one hour.” He signed off.

•      •      •

Jack rubbed his hand through his hair as he strode down the basement hallway, looking for a bathroom. He had been in the conference room for the last two hours ironing out details and drinking coffee. He left Greg with Murphy and his Kenyan embassy counterpart behind and managed to find a bathroom at the end of the stairs.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he noted the red and tired eyes. A new shirt would be a good idea, also. He made an effort to put his hair back in order but soon gave up. He looked himself over again.

“You still got it?” he asked his reflection. He got no answer.

Pushing the door open to return to the conference room, he found himself ambushed by Sydney. She calmly waited, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, a look of concern on her face. He let the door fall shut and it revealed Heather standing behind it. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation, Jack determined.

“Yes?”

Sydney pulled her eyes from Jack and nodded toward Heather.

“Sir, if you don’t need me any further, I was wondering if I could possibly return to the States? I’ve rerouted all of the supplies from Dar and well . . . there just doesn’t seem to be anything here for me to do.”

Jack nodded as he thought about it. “Okay, I see no problem releasing you at this point. The director will need a full report once you get back, and of course I’d like to see it first. I know this wasn’t what you signed up for, but I think you handled it real well. I’ll be sure to say something to your boss.”

“That’s very kind of you. Is there anything I can do before I leave?”

“No, I don’t think what’s happening will call for your skills.”

Heather nodded. “Yes, I would have to agree with you there.” She stuck out a hand which Jack shook. “Thank you and good luck with . . . well, you know.” She turned and proceeded up the steps. Jack shared a look with Sydney for a moment before turning and calling out.

“Heather?”

Heather turned at the top of the steps. “Yes?”

“Just curious, is there anything missing from the warehouse here in Nairobi?”

Heather scrunched her face at the question. “No, sir, it appears to be fully stocked as normal.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem.” She turned and proceeded up the steps and out the door to the embassy.

Once the door shut behind her, Sydney asked, “What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure yet, but follow me.” He led her up the stairs, but turned the opposite way and entered the embassy warehouse door. After finding the lights and turning them all on, he strolled down the aisles slowly, hands in his pockets.

“You have something you wanted to say?” he asked Sydney who was trailing behind.

“Jack, why are you going on this raid?”

“I’ll be with the extraction team, Syd, gathering intelligence. I’m not kicking in doors or anything. I don’t do that anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“Okay, yes, I did kick in a door in DC, but that wasn’t the same thing and you know it.”

“Jack, you left with a group only to ditch them and take off on your own. You almost got shot by your own guys. Why can’t you just let the SEALs do this?”

Jack spun to face her, startling her to the point she stepped back.

“Because we’re at war, Syd, that’s why. You need to understand that. Just because Congress hasn’t declared it, doesn’t make it less so. How do you declare war on a group of people? They aren’t a country or some rogue nation-state. They’re the same thing that all men who cause wars are—greedy, fearful men. They want to ruin us because they covet our power. This isn’t about Islam or a fanatical way of thinking. It’s about greed and power. They want something and we are in the way. They want to rule over the Middle East, plain and simple. They want the money and the power that comes with that and to do it they’re willing to exploit the ignorance and religion of their own people! Why do you think the bombers are all kids and religious students? The leaders never sacrifice themselves, do they? Well, today I found an enemy that I can kill, and I’m going to do everything I can to end him.”