SEAL Team Bravo, page 7
She’s a Sultan’s woman, whether she wants to be or not, almost a Sultan’s woman. There’s nothing more to be said. Arabs have a nasty habit of chopping off the balls of men who interfere with their women, or their heads, or both.
They scudded past the vast, frozen lake, and once again he wondered about it. If the aircraft had come down in the lake, it would disappear from view forever, except for one important factor. The ice was unbroken when Maysoon looked out over the lake the next morning. Hence, it wasn’t in the lake. It had to be up on that plateau where ISIS was searching. They had to go back, had to persuade the Sultan to hand back their weapons, and give them permission to continue the search. Somehow, they’d get through to him, and make him see sense.
They passed the shore of the lake and traveled over a low range of snow-covered hills, and the palace compound lay in front of them. He almost choked. To call it a palace was an act of incredible optimism. A palatial lodge constructed mostly of stone, a bastard mix of Islamic and Swiss Alpine construction that almost hurt the eyes. Some Arab despot’s idea of taste and style, it looked like a monstrous mountaintop diner. The result was a central house that appeared to have around ten bedrooms, surrounded by a number of dwellings, enough to form a village, but no more. Around the outside, a high wall guarded the area, and he made out several towers set at intervals along the wall. He also counted two minarets inside the compound, testament to the religious beliefs of the rulers.
He forced himself to be patient as they drove through the gates of the compound and stopped outside the large building.
Not long now, I’ll talk to this guy. He knows we’re Americans, so we can offer him whatever he wants; an aid package, maybe, whatever it takes to prevent the nuke falling into the hands of ISIS. A pity the guy isn’t a Christian. He’d be celebrating Christmas, and maybe some of the good cheer would spill over, and make him more amenable to reason.
“Put them in the cells!”
Maysoon stared at him. “General, these people helped me, came here to help us. Let them go.”
“It is the Sultan’s order,” he snarled, “You should not interfere. Take them to the cells.”
General Abbas al-Noury ignored her and glared from the top of the five steps that led up to the entrance. His men jumped to obey the order and seized them. Without weapons, they were unable to fight back, not four unarmed men against twenty soldiers with rifles.
Will struggled and tossed off the four men who held him with massive strength. He shouted at Nolan, “Boss, we can’t let them treat us like this. Who the hell do these people think they are?”
“Let it go, Will. They run the place. It’s their call. We’ll have our say later. Don’t make it any worse than it already is.”
Two of the soldiers he’d tossed to the ground slammed their rifle butts several times into his head, and he went down on one knee, semi-conscious. Nolan ran to cover him.
“Leave him alone. He’s on your side, you stupid mutts.”
His reward was to have a rifle butt slammed into his own head, and then the men were dragging them into the main door, and down a flight of concrete steps into a dark basement. Behind him, he heard Maysoon shout, “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Naser. He’ll give the order to free you. Be patient.”
The place stank of sweat, ordure, and fear. There were two cells ranged along the wall. Their guards opened the first cell, herded them inside, and slammed the door closed. The rattle of locks as they secured it sounded like the execution bell. Vince was already kneeling over Will’s prostrate body.
He was unconscious after the blows to his head, but after a minute, he began to come round. He looked up. “Was it something I said?”
Nolan smiled. “Probably. The bastards don’t have much of a sense of humor. I wonder how long they intend to keep us here.”
“It could be for life if they don’t like what you have to say.”
The man who spoke was in the next cell. He sounded English, with the kind of cut-glass accents you hear from people educated in the wealthier private schools. The name Eton came to mind. Oxford and Cambridge. The kind of folk who dressed up in fancy duds to ride horses around the countryside, chasing foxes; horses who had more sense than their riders, and foxes that should have stayed in bed.
Nolan went to the barred window in the cell door so he could hear better. “Who are you, friend? And why is an Englishman here?”
“I’m not an Englishman. I live here. This is my home. My father the Sultan sent me to Eton for my education, the English private school, hence the accent.”
Eton, I’d never had guessed.
“Your father sent you?”
“He was the previous Sultan.”
“Who are you?”
My name is Abu. Abu Khalil.”
“Like the Sultan. You related or something?”
A pause. “He is my brother. When my father died, my brother Naser inherited the title.”
He thought he’d misheard. “Excuse me. I thought you said you were his brother.”
A slight chuckle, “That is correct. You’re wondering why the Sultan’s brother is in a cell, correct?”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“I planned to elope with a girl he wanted for himself.”
It all clicked into place. “Maysoon.”
“Maysoon, yes. We were in love, and we decided to marry. But my brother wanted her for himself, to join his other wives. He keeps them in a guarded women’s compound, away from this place, in case they’re tempted to escape. As for me, there are two men who are allowed to guard these cells. No one else is allowed down here. He wants me dead, but he’s scared to do it to his brother. He’s keeping me here until he decides when to kill me. I understand it will be soon.”
“Sounds like a psycho, your brother.”
He sounds like plenty of Arabs we’ve met.
“We’ve been to the women’s compound. Well, not inside, you understand.”
“They would kill you if you tried.”
They could try.
“That’s where we ran into Maysoon.”
“Maysoon?”
“Yep. She helped us when we came under attack from ISIS, and after we got away, she told us she planned to escape. She thinks you’re dead.”
“Dead! So that explains it. I wondered why she didn’t try to visit me in this place. Now you will die. He will never allow the secret of my captivity to be made public.”
“Fuck.” Will Bryce had been listening, “You know what day it is, Boss? Christmas Eve. Tomorrow it’s Christmas day, the season of goodwill to all men. And of all the places to be, we’re trapped in this Islamic shithole.”
“The minds of the unbelievers are blinded, they do not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Jesus Christ, who is the image of God.”
Somehow, he’d known John-Wesley would have something to say. Abu overheard him. “We are Muslims, why would we believe in Jesus Christ?”
“To save yourself from the fires of hell,” Ryder retorted, “Besides, look where your heathen god has got you, rotting in a cell, awaiting execution.”
He didn’t reply. Nolan intervened; arguing was a waste of energy.
“Shut up, all of you. We have to break out. Any ideas?”
Will rattled the door to test its strength. “It would take a direct hit from an artillery shell to break it down.”
“Or a key,” Ryder suggested.
He sighed. “We don’t have a key, John-Wesley.”
“The jailer does. When he comes in here, we’ll take him out and escape. Simple.”
“Except he’ll have a guard with an assault rifle standing outside. We’re unarmed, in case you’d forgotten.”
Ryder produced his combat knife in a magic gesture, like a conjurer pulling a rabbit from a hat. “Not entirely, Boss. I had this stashed inside my shirt, and the gomers who searched me didn’t find it. This’ll help even up the odds.”
They stared at the blade, a dull black to stop light reflecting. It was huge and heavy, the blade almost a foot long. Nolan nodded. “I reckon so. We’ll have to sucker the guy with the rifle near, and you can jump him. What do you reckon, fake a death? That should bring them.”
“Let’s give it a try.”
The three SEALs set the stage. Nolan lay on the floor of the cell, and Vince knelt beside him, in a simulation of CPR. Will went to the barred window, while Ryder crouched in the shadows just inside the door. It was the best they could do.
“Will, go for it.”
“Guard! Come quick, this man is ill. Please help him.”
At first, no one responded. After the third shout, a key rattled in a lock and footsteps rushed toward their cell. A wild-eyed, unshaven face stared through the bars. “What is it? Who is ill?”
Will pointed toward Nolan, lying on the ground. “I think he’s dying. Please, come and see. He may already be dead.”
The response was stubborn. “I don’t care. He can die now or later. It makes no difference to me.”
Will reacted fast. “We can pay if you help my friend.”
“Pay? How can you pay?”
“We brought in a stash of American dollars when we entered the country. I can tell you where we hid them.”
“How many dollars?”
“Half a million. It was to pay for equipment and bribes if we needed them.”
“This is not a trick?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t want my friend to die in this place.”
A pause. “Very well. Stand back from the door. And if this is a trick, you’ll suffer so bad you’ll be begging for me to kill you. You understand?”
“I get it. Please hurry and help him, and the half a mill is yours.”
“I will come and look. Stand at the back of the cell.”
“Sure, sure.”
The light was dim. The lock rattled, the door opened, and he pushed looked inside, his face suspicious. Beside him, another guard stood with an assault rifle, an AKM, leveled and pointed at the prisoners. The first guard stepped through the door unarmed and walked to the body lying prostrate. Nolan gave a command performance. His groans of agony were realistic enough to tempt the most hardened of jailers to look closer.
“Help me, help me, I’m dying.”
The guard looked worried. “Perhaps it is too late for a doctor. Where is this money hidden?”
“Get him out of the cell into the fresh air. It’s foul in here, and he needs to breathe. As soon as he’s out in the open, come back here, and I’ll tell you where it is.”
He considered that, but not for long. The lure of half a million dollars could tempt most low wage jailers enough to overcome their inner caution. He took hold of Nolan’s leg and tried to drag him outside. The Lieutenant screamed in agony, and the screams weren’t all faked. It was his injured leg. The guard shouted to the man outside to lend a hand, and he walked through the door. It was enough. Ryder fell on him like a bolt from the sky. The knife fell, stabbed into his neck, and stabbed again. Stabbed a third time, and the body lay bloody and unmoving.
Bryce and Merano took the first guard in a simultaneous movement, almost like a choreographed dance. One man to a side, each grabbed an arm, and Nolan made a fast recovery to snap up his hands to the man’s mouth to prevent any cry for help. Ryder was finished with his victim, and he lunged at the captive to plunge the wet, bloody blade into his flesh. Nolan put up a hand to stop him.
“No, don’t kill him, John-Wesley. We may need him.”
The blade stopped its downward journey. “If you say so,” he muttered.
“I do. Take that rifle and go check the outside door. Make sure there’s no one about to enter. Vince, go with him, find the keys to the cell next door. When we go, Abu goes with us.”
“Him? He’s one of them, Boss.”
“He’s a friend of Maysoon. She helped us out when we needed it. Now we’re gonna help her.”
“You’re gonna free him? He could be as bad as the rest of them.”
“I’m going to reunite them, after we’ve dealt with the fucker who put us in here. And that’s after we’ve found the plane. Find those keys, and we can get outta here.”
“Copy that.”
They disappeared out the door, and Will and Nolan hauled the captive to his feet.
“You’re about to help us break out, friend. Tell us when you’re expecting soldiers to come here. Is it anytime soon?”
Will had him by the throat, and he squeezed enough to make a point.
“No, no, not until 17.00. An officer checks on us every six hours.”
“What time is it now? They took our watches.”
“I think,” he coughed and spluttered, and Will eased the pressure a fraction, “I think it is about 14.00.”
“Okay, we have three hours, give or take.”
“You’re going to kill me,” the man gurgled.
“You were going to kill us, but no, I’ll lock you in here with your pal.”
“He’s dead!”
“He is. Keep your mouth shut, and you won’t join him.”
They left the cell, leaving one dead and one live guard inside. Vince came back with keys, locked the door, and found the key to the next cell. The man inside looked like he’d been there a long, long time, and the stench was indescribable. His beard was long and ragged, and his clothes little more than rags. But he emerged into the passage, his teeth bared in a huge smile.
“I thank you for this, but it won’t be easy escaping from this place. My brother has a strong security force, and they’re well-trained.”
“So are we,” he answered.
“Who are you, and why are you here?”
Nolan extended a hand. “U.S. Navy SEALs, we’re looking for a Russian aircraft that came down in the area.”
He nodded his understanding. “Yes, there has been talk of the air crash, but it was strange, no trace of the wreckage has ever been found. The night was very cold, and if there’d been any survivors, they wouldn’t have lasted long. The temperature dropped to thirty below, as I recall. Poor devils.”
“Yeah. Listen, I have an idea. Vince, open that cell again. Abu, swap clothes with that guard. You can be our escort. They won’t be suspicious if they see you transferring us with a rifle pointed at our backs.”
Will gave him a pointed look, and he smiled. “Don’t worry. It’ll be unloaded. They say the enemy of your enemy is your friend, but I’ll take that under advisement.”
He looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear it, Boss. Thing is, you give him the rifle with no ammo, that’s the entire stock of our firepower. Other than Ryder’s knife, and even John-Wesley can’t make it shoot on semi-auto.”
“We’ll play it by ear.”
“You’ve got a plan?”
“Not yet.”
Abu finished dressing and emerged from the cell as a soldier of the Sultanate military. He didn’t look too bad, not in the dim light of the cellblock. Many of the soldiers would have long straggly beards, and it wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. Ryder unloaded the banana-shaped magazine and emptied the bullets, and was about to eject the one in the breech when Nolan stopped him.
“No, leave him one bullet. He may need it.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“We’re going to find Maysoon.”
“Maysoon?” Will looked puzzled, “Shouldn’t we be getting out of this fucking place?”
He grinned. “We should, but we’ll take her with us. Hey, Will, lighten up. It’s Christmas Eve.” He glanced at Abu. “You can find her, you know where she’ll be?”
“Yes, of course. She has room in this building, on the top floor.”
“Okay, take a peek outside, and if it looks clear, give us the signal, and you can escort us out.”
“I will do that. But if we run into the Sultan’s soldiers, one bullet won’t be much help.”
“One is all you get. It’s one more than we have, so get moving.”
He nodded, went to the door, and peeked out. Then he turned back to them. “The passage outside is empty. We can leave.”
They went out the door ahead of him, and he came behind, the rifle leveled at their backs. He whispered directions as they walked, each of them with their hands raised. “Take the next door on the left, yes, that’s right. It leads to the servant’s staircase.”
The walls were paneled in rich, dark hardwoods, and every few feet, a piece of Islamic artwork had been artfully displayed, backlit by soft lighting to enhance the appearance. The thick carpet on the floors silenced their footsteps, and they made the door to the back staircase without encountering anyone.
They started up the staircase and came eye to eye with a soldier coming back down. He gave them a quizzical look and barked a question at Abu, who was dressed in the shabby uniform of a private soldier. He didn’t get an answer. Ryder danced the blade before his face and slashed across the mouth, curving the blow around to slash back at the neck. He severed the man’s vocal chords before he had a chance to cry out, and Vince snatched his assault rifle before it clattered to the ground. He snapped out the magazine, checked the load, and grinned at Nolan. “Now we have two AKMs, and this one has a full clip. If we hit trouble, I’ll hand you back the rest of the bullets.”
Abu shrugged. “If you think I am a threat to you, you’re wrong. I am grateful to you, very grateful. I would give you anything you wanted in return for freeing me.”
Except Maysoon, Nolan thought to himself. Not that any man in his right mind would give up a girl like that. He almost died for her, and dammit she’s a girl worth dying for. Still, maybe there is something.
“You’re serious about that, you’d give us anything?”
“If it was mine to give, but Naser took everything I own. What did you want from me?”
He had an idea, but that was for later. “Tell me, Abu, who’s next in line for the Sultanate if Naser dies?”
