The Ottoman Conspiracy, page 20
part #3 of Jeff Bradley Series
The passengers had little to do. They gathered in groups and the discussion was always the same. What was going to happen to them? Barry theorised the hijackers wanted to hold them until a ransom was paid. The passengers understood the ramifications when it came to kidnapping. Their governments would let them die before paying out money. All agreed they would not leave their fate in the hands of politicians. A few suggested they form a finance committee. Many had homes and sizeable bank accounts. The group appointed Brendon, an accountant from Auckland, the negotiator. When the time came he would bargain for their lives. The decision seemed to placate even the most fearful. It was a plan and, everyone agreed, a good plan.
Barry had used all his money for the trip and to pay for Bethany’s engagement ring; any spare cash left had gone into the wedding fund. Not enough to interest a kidnapper. He and Bethany were dead meat. He remembered The Sheriff said that when they reached their destination they would be released. His instincts told him they had arrived at the final destination. And he saw no sign The Sheriff was about to honour his pledge.
Bethany stirred, as he was about to make his way to the pallets.
“Hi, doll.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.
“I need a drink of water and to use the toilet,” she whispered.
“I was about to use the phone.”
“Wait until I get back. We can do it together.”
Barry nodded. The other hostages were sitting quietly or dozing. The two American girls had been separated from the group. Where they had been taken, and why, he had no idea. He surmised because they were Yanks they were worth more money. Maybe a ransom had already been paid and the women were on their way home. Good news for everyone if it was like that. It meant the kidnappers were open to deals.
Bethany was making her way back to him. There was something odd about her walk. Head down, she moved quickly, but her legs were unsteady. Water slopped over the rim of her plastic drinking glass. Barry made to rise, but she held her hand up. She fell to her knees beside him. Her eyes were tearful and her face had turned the colour of snow. Barry took the glass from her shaking hand before all the contents ended on the floor.
“Are you okay?”
Bethany shook her head. “No, I’m not.” Barry made to speak, but Bethany held up her hand. “Wait a moment; I need a moment.” She took deep breaths. Swallowed, then fixed her eyes on Barry. She leaned forward, her lips close to Barry’s ear.
“They’re going to kill us.”
Barry’s mouth dropped open. He stared straight ahead. His head unmoving.
“Tell me why you think that?” he whispered.
Bethany’s lips trembled against his earlobe.
“I heard two of the Albanian guards talking. They said the order had come from whoever gives the orders – I assume The Sheriff – that all the hostages are to be taken into the mountains. We are to be shot and buried in a secret place where no one will ever find our bodies. The Albanian guards are not happy. They say they are not mass murderers. They worry that if they do this and it is discovered the ‘Internationals’ will hunt them.”
Barry gulped. “Okay, that’s something at least. We might be able to exploit that weakness when the time comes. Did they say when this will happen?”
“No. Transport needs to be organised, they said. And they need to be wary of roadblocks. But in the next few days, it sounded like to me.”
Barry took Bethany’s hand and looked her in the eye. “I promise, with all my heart, nothing will happen to you.”
“You can’t make such promises, Barry.”
“Yes, I can. Nothing will happen to you. Now, I need to text Jeff. He needs to know.”
“Jeff might not be able to help. We don’t even know where we are. How can you tell him where to come?”
“He’ll know.”
She turned and pushed her back against the pallets, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Barry waited for her to settle. Her lips tightened and pursed, then she took a deep breath. Bethany nodded she was ready. She lay against him as lovers do. Barry reached behind her and wiggled the phone from the gap. He switched it on and tapped the Text icon, then wrote a message to Jeff. He included Bethany’s news that The Sheriff was going to have them killed. Now he needed to wait ten minutes before he switched it off. Bethany nudged him.
“A guard is coming our way,” she whispered.
He pushed the phone back under the pallets. Barry stroked Bethany’s thigh. Her hand rested on his, and she gave it a squeeze when the guard stopped in front of them. The guard pointed his Kalashnikov at Barry.
“On your feet. Both of you,” he commanded. Bethany held Barry’s arm. Barry kept his eye on the barrel aimed at his chest.
“Stand up,” the guard repeated.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The black SUV drove along the new multi-lane highway in the direction of Baghdad until it reached the outskirts of Erbil, the capital of the Kurdish area of Iraq. The driver made a left turn and drove over a dirt road for fifteen more minutes before taking another left into the darkness. A dozen wild dogs loped across the front of the vehicle and disappeared into the darkness.
“Dogs,” the driver said. “Very bad. They have diseases. If they bite you it will make you sick. And they attack in packs. A young girl was savaged to death by these beasts. If you walk in these remote areas at night, you must be careful.”
Jeff nodded. He could think of more dangerous animals wandering in the dark in the various regions of Iraq and Kurdistan. Mostly they had two legs.
“At night in the city the police shoot them,” the driver added.
Jeff was bounced about in the seat as the driver manoeuvred the vehicle through a copse of trees and stopped in front of a small brick cottage.
“We are here,” the driver said.
Jeff, Reason and Jonno followed the driver inside.
The woman they had made the night drive to meet was medium height, and of slim build, but the rolled-up sleeves of her shirt revealed muscled lower arms. Her pretty face had finely chiselled features, and clear, light-brown skin, almost Asian. She had a ready smile and a warm and welcoming disposition, and looked no older than twenty years; her eyes though exuded a wisdom and experience beyond her years. She had graduated university, a genius with computers, Jonno had told Jeff, and had a degree on a wall in her family home to prove it. Jonno said he had seen it. She was Jonno’s connection, and Jeff had to take Jonno’s word his connection was reliable.
Her black hair was swept back in a single plait that hung loose down her back. A touch of make-up enhanced her beauty. She could have been like many Eastern European women he had met, readying herself for a night out in search of a husband. And, by Jeff’s initial assessment, young men would line up to dance with such an elegant and intelligent beauty. But this woman would not be dancing. Unlike other young women, Luka wore a khaki-green military uniform and had a Kalashnikov slung over the back of her chair, and a pistol on the table within ready reach of her hand.
Fellow female soldiers, also uniformed, sat cross-legged on the floor, Kalashnikovs across their laps. Jeff had heard of the Kurdish women soldiers and the stories of their prowess as fighters. He’d read reports in the media describing them as a very effective fighting force. He had also read reports that the PKK women soldiers had shot it out and had beaten back ISIS soldiers on the battlefield on more than one occasion. They looked competent. He was about to find out.
When Luka saw Jonno, her eyes widened and a glow brightened her face. She rose from her seat and rushed to greet him.
“Jonno, my friend. It is so good to see you again.”
They embraced and clung to each other more like old lovers than long-lost friends. Jeff made a mental note to question Jonno. He needed to know if there was more to their relationship than just old acquaintances, and he already knew Jonno would tell him to piss off. In Afghanistan, he had seen these scenarios before in the rebel groups. Romeo and Juliet relationships often occurred, and often the lovers needed to choose sides or had already chosen a side. And if one of them was an informant, the team could be led into a trap. He didn’t know Luka, and they were about to place rescuing the hostages in her hands.
Luka returned to the seat behind her desk.
“How can I help you people?” she asked, her eyes on Jonno.
Jonno looked at Jeff. Jeff nodded an okay. Jonno could lead the discussion.
“We need weapons,” Jonno said. “What can you get us?”
“Do you have money?” Luka asked.
Jeff nodded to Jonno.
“Give me a list and I will get what I can,” she said.
Jeff pulled out the piece of paper with the list they had compiled in Istanbul. He passed it to Luka.
She gave it a quick scan. A nod of her head as she mentally ticked off the items. “It is possible to get these weapons. Even on the streets of Erbil. We have gun shops. Just like in America. What else do you need?”
Jonno said, “We also need a guide and transport to Zakho.”
Luka’s brow furrowed. She glanced up from the list.
“It is dangerous for us to travel by road. There are many roadblocks, and the town Zakho, my home town, is close to the Turkish border. Turkish forces are near. The West has listed us PKK as terrorists, and now the Turks are taking advantage and invading Kurdish towns. They are happy to kill many innocent people to get a single PKK member. They want us all dead. Also, it is close to Syria, and ISIS and the other rebel groups, and if it wasn’t hard enough before, there is the Syrian army and the Russians. Nobody respects borders, and they cross over whenever it suits. In the past we could cross into Syria as we liked, but now it is not such a good idea. When we return, they follow us into Northern Iraq. If we are caught, we suffer as women. They do not treat us like men. They torture us and kill us differently. We must be careful.”
“Does this mean you cannot help us?” Jeff asked.
Luka looked up at Jeff. “I did not say that. I said it will be very dangerous for us.” She tilted her head. “You must pay more for our services than is normal, because of this danger.”
Jeff laughed. Jonno looked to Jeff for affirmation. Jeff nodded. What choice did he have? This rescue was becoming an expensive exercise. Luckily, his grandmother had left him a great deal of money and property when she died. The amount he had spent so far was not a cause for concern; not yet anyway.
“Do you have an exact location?” Luka asked.
Jonno turned to Reason.
“Yes. My contact has narrowed the search area,” Reason said.
She opened the map and pointed to the location. Jeff threw her a curious glance, then frowned. It surprised him the target area had been narrowed to a few hundred metres. She had not given him this information. She caught his look and raised her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth turned up. A hint of humour over her deceit.
Luka rose from her seat and put both hands on the table, leaning forward to study the map. She placed a finger on the plastic-coated surface.
“This location is close to Zakho. I think on the outskirts, but for sure between the town and on the road in the direction of the Syrian border. Zakho is a busy town; it has a university and from time to time it is used as a checkpoint and border crossing into Turkey. It is not so busy nowadays because of the war. The lack of activity means there will be empty sheds and warehouses along this highway. My guess, they are hiding your people in one of those warehouses. Taking them too close to Zakho would invite curiosity. Kurdistan has a buoyant economy, but there is still unemployment. The townspeople have little to do except sit in cafés and drink iced tea and coffee and gossip. If they notice things out of the ordinary, they will tell someone.”
Jeff said, “You mentioned ISIS and other rebel groups. Could any of them be involved with the hostages?”
Luka held up her hands. “Who knows? Fighters from these groups are everywhere. And there are so many factions within some of these groups. ISIS has only come to your attention because of the beheadings and brutality against women. This is why we” – she waved her arm towards the others – “joined the PKK. The kidnapping of Kurdish women. We women needed to defend ourselves. The West did not care what happened to us, so we took matters into our own hands. We are PKK, but we’re not all terrorists, no matter what the politicians say. But even in the PKK, there are factions that are no more than criminals. On the whole though, Iraqi Kurdistan is okay. The interim government does a good job. The Iraqi forces work with Kurdish troops and there are international military forces in Baghdad if needed, but they do not come to Zakho. In this region, you only need worry about The Sheriff and his men.”
“Fair enough,” Jeff said.
Luka turned to Reason. “Can we narrow the target area?” she asked. “It is a small spot on the map, but in reality two, maybe three kilometres. Big enough to waste hours trying to find wherever the hostages might be hidden.”
“I need to call Istanbul in an hour. I will have an exact location after that call. That’s if the hostage friend of Jeff’s has turned his phone back on,” Reason responded.
“How far to Zakho from here?” Jeff asked.
“It is about 350 kilometres. Five to six hours’ driving, depending on the traffic.”
“When do we go?”
Luka said, “First, I think a few questions need to be answered. To evacuate forty people has problems. Some will be elderly, possibly suffering from ill health. What if they cannot walk? How do you plan getting them to safety?”
“If the bus they travelled on wasn’t still there, we could steal a truck or two, or even another bus,” Jeff said. “If needed, could we get you to hire us a bus or a truck? Would that be a possibility?”
Luka said, “This is a Third World country. Everyone is interested in improving their standard of living.”
Jeff turned to Reason. “What about an extraction? Choppers from Baghdad.”
“That can be arranged.”
“If we have to go by bus, would the Turkish border be open at night?” Jeff asked.
“The Zakho border may not be open at all. It is only used every so often.”
“Okay, when the time comes we talk with the Yanks. When can we leave?” Jeff asked Luka.
“It will take time to organise a safe passage and identify where it is the hostages are held. In an operation like this, you will want to be in and out as quick as possible.”
“Agreed,” Jonno said.
Luka was thoughtful. “I think that in four days, maybe five, we can leave.”
“Too long,” Jeff said. “The last message from the hostages is the kidnappers intend to kill them any day now. The man who sent the text could not say which day for certain. It could be tomorrow. But it means we cannot delay the mission.”
Luka puffed her cheeks and blew out the air.
“Very well, we can drive to Zakho tomorrow. Tonight, go back to your hotel and get some sleep. Only bring whatever gear you consider essential. I will arrange for the weapons to be in Zakho when you arrive.”
On the drive back to the Erbil International Hotel, Jeff peered out the window, watching the lights of passing traffic. It relaxed him. Cleared his head. He thought through the decision to find a team and go it alone with the rescue. Had he judged the situation correctly? Was this decision best for the hostages? He decided yes it was, and he would live with it.
Right now, questions needed to be asked. He turned in the seat.
“Out with it, Reason – why didn’t you give me the coordinates of where the hostages are in Istanbul?”
“Easy answer: I didn’t trust you to bring me along.”
Jonno, sitting in the back seat with Reason, laughed.
“Fair enough,” Jeff said. “You’re right, I would have left you in Istanbul, but not for the reasons you might think.”
“Really? You mean, it’s not because I’m a woman and once you had the information you need, I serve no further useful purpose than maybe a night of sex?”
“No, it’s not like that.”
“Really. I can’t wait to hear. Tell me,” Reason said.
“Tell her, Jonno,” Jeff said.
“I think what Jeff meant to say is that the four of us make an SAS operational unit. It’s how we’re trained. We know each other’s role. Our survival is reliant on being able to depend on each other. You don’t fit, Reason. You’re not trained to think like us, and you have no combat experience. Nothing personal.”
“Well, guys, I hate to rain on your parade, as we say in good old America, but I’m in the team. Your foursome has become a fivesome; now learn to live with it.”
Jonno laughed again. “She sounds like a soldier, Jeff. Can you drink beer, Reason?”
“Not by choice, but if you want a buddy to bond with after this, I’ll be there for you.”
Jeff shook his head. She was a woman he respected, and as always, he hated putting the women he admired in danger, especially given his past history. More than one friend he’d involved in his escapades had wound up dead. But on this occasion he had no choice but to bring her along. Reason could call in the US troops stationed in Baghdad if needed, and when the hostage rescue started they might need a squad of US Navy SEALs and choppers.
“I’d be interested in what you two think. Is there anything I’ve missed?” Jeff said to Jonno and Reason.
“I think you’re about to land us in a big pile of shit, Jeff,” Jonno said. “If we manage to do this, the US forces will be pissed off. The New Zealand SAS contingent in Baghdad will not be happy either. I hope you don’t think they’re gonna kiss your ass and praise you with a big thank-you-very-much pat on the back. You’re making them look like a bunch of assholes. You’ll be a leper from here on in. The government may never let you leave New Zealand again.”
