Flags of The Forgoten Page 9

  Jay shook his head. “At Jeff’s office.” He stopped and held a hand up in front of Bobby. “And, for the record, here in the ‘stan, Jeff is just Jeff Green.”

  Bobby nodded. “I guess the name Greenberg doesn’t fly too well with the locals.”

  Gregg slipped past the pair carrying a heavy duffel. “I dare the fuckers to mess with him. Jeff takes no prisoners.” He dropped the duffel on the baggage cart and stretched his back. “Damn. I think Steve packed half the office.”

  “It’s like a condom, Slippy. Better to have one and not need it…”

  “Yeah, yeah. Next time you carry it.” Gregg planted a hand on the small of his back and hobbled off.

  Jay watched as the drivers hauled their gear then made a circle with his hand. “Load up.”

  The drive through Karachi wasn’t hurried and Bobby saw many familiar sights along with many new things he hadn’t expected. The team arrived at the well disguised branch CIA office and Jeff was waiting outside for them as the stretched van pulled to a stop near the entrance.

  Bobby looked up through the tinted windows and raised a brow. “A coffeeshop?”

  Jay shrugged. “Why not? Americans love their coffee about as much as the hajis do.” He opened the side door and Gregg practically jumped from the cramped vehicle. “Maybe next time you can wait till the car stops.” Jay hiked a discerning brow at him.

  Gregg shook his shoulders off and reached for the bag that held his computer equipment. “Sorry boss but I get nervous in anything that isn’t armored.” He snatched the bag and turned for the door.

  Jeff reached out a hand and Gregg slipped a dollar into it. “Grab my bags, will ya?”

  Jeff gave him a dirty look and pocketed the dollar. “Good to see you too, Gregg.”

  “Don’t mind him. He’s still cranky about the in-flight movie.” Jay grabbed his own duffel and slung it over his shoulder. “Have you heard from our contractors?”

  Jeff paused and stared open mouthed at the large bald man. “Contractors? Tell me you didn’t.”

  Jay pulled his sunglasses off and smirked. “Oh yes we did. We wanted eyes on. Who better than your favorite pair of ex-operators.”

  “There’s no such thing as an ex operator. You know that.” Jeff held the door while the rest of the men disembarked and retrieved their collective bags. When Bridger came around from the rear of the van Jeff nearly choked. “Bobby Bridger. I thought you quit and fell off the planet.”

  Bobby smiled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Jeff, it’s good to see you again.”

  “What happened to you? I mean…have you been underground this whole time?” Jeff waited until the men had entered the coffeeshop before pulling the door shut and pointing toward the rear of the building.

  “Actually, yeah. Literally.” Bobby walked alongside his ex-partner and spoke softly. “I retired to a hole in the ground in North Texas. And when I say a hole in the ground, I mean a hole in the ground.”

  Jeff shook his head. “Let me guess, an ex military bunker?”

  “Nearly.” Bobby stepped down into the darkened back room and glanced around. “Is this where we’re setting up shop?”

  Jay shook his head. “Negative. We’re here cashing in a favor. We’ll be heading to our offices shortly.” He turned to Jeff and reached out a hand. “You got it?”

  Jeff squirmed a moment then reached to the closest cabinet and pulled a file. “Yeah. Hello to you too,” he mumbled as he passed the file over. “Remember, you didn’t get this from me.”

  Jay sat on the corner of the desk and rifled through the sheets. “Who are these guys?”

  “I pulled the intel you wanted on al-Abadi, but there are other high profile potentials in town as of late. I thought you might be interested in a couple.” Jeff crossed his arms over his broad chest and watched Jay carefully. “Tell me about who you’ve contracted.”

  Jay looked up and cracked a grin. “You really don’t want to know.”

  “If it’s Lynch and Wells, then you’re right. I don’t.”

  Jay turned back to the file and nodded slightly. “Like I said…”

  “Yo, Jeffy.” Deric nodded to the older man. “What about our supplies?”

  Jeff groaned and tossed a set of keys to Deric. “Weapons are crated and locked in the back. I could only get you one armored car.”

  “Government?” Steve asked as he scanned the office.

  “Nope. Civilian Mercedes G class. You’ll have four wheel drive and a supercharged V-8. Probably need it to move that heavy SOB.”

  Steve smiled broadly. “Nothing like armor plate to suck your gas mileage.”

  “Better broke than dead.” Deric tossed the keys to Jim. “You’re driving.”

  Jim pocketed the keys and sat down behind one of the desks. “What’s the word on the street?”

  Jeff shook his head. “There’s nothing. Apparently Abadi is planning some big anti-Western demonstration. Supposed to set records as far as the turnout.”

  “I thought our standing with the locals had improved.” Jay closed the file and tossed it to Gregg, who slipped it into his bag.

  “Abadi is paying demonstrators.” Jeff cleared his throat. “It’s a ruse, though.” He pointed to the map where a red line was highlighted through the center of Karachi. “While he gathers the unwashed masses and all of the local media, his henchmen are on the outskirts, moving weapons. Nobody notices what the left hand is doing because the right hand has them mesmerized.”

  “And that’s when you swoop in?” Jim asked.

  “Nope. We’re just to observe and track. I’m almost positive that the guns are going to one of the local terrorist groups. We’re just not sure which.”

  Bridger stood up and got his attention. “That’s interesting and all, but you said there were other names to consider?”

  Jeff nodded. “We have a state politician who is in town, pressing flesh and raising funds for the next election. There’s also a sympathetic magistrate here.”

  “Sympathetic?” Jay asked.

  “To the terror groups.” Jeff sighed. “It’s getting to where anybody with an AK and the ability to string together more than three sentences without stuttering can start a brand new terror group. The State Department claims that they’re branches from the bigger groups, but in reality, it’s just the local version of drunken rednecks stirring up trouble.”

  Bridger groaned. “Great. How the hell are we going to decide which one to snatch?”

  “Snatch?” Jeff was suddenly alert and glancing between the different operators.

  Jay squirmed slightly and stood from the desk. “Yeah, about that.”

  “Tell me you aren’t going to cause an incident.”

  Jay shook his head. “No, not at all. I mean…well…as long as nobody finds out.”

  Jeff groaned and fell into his chair. “Do I want to know? No, wait…I don’t. Do I?”

  Bridger stepped closer and placed a hand on his ex-partner’s shoulder. “I’m being set up. And from what we can tell, it’s somebody with either the CIA or NSA.”

  Jeff stared at him wide eyed. “You’re shitting me.”

  Deric lowered his voice. “We think it’s an assassination attempt. Do you have any idea which of those three the alphabet soup guys would want most dead?”

  Jeff opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His mind tried to wrap itself around the possibility. Finally he got out, “Abadi would be the top of my list.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” Gregg stood and rifled through his bag. He pulled out the file they had printed out on Abadi. “This is all we’ve gathered.”

  Jeff skimmed through the file and paused. “Some of these are NSA…and they’re not redacted.” He turned to Gregg. “How the hell did you get these?”

  “I never kiss and tell,” Gregg smirked.

  Jeff looked back through the information and shook his head. “See…we didn’t even know he was involved in the local human trafficking.”


  “Now you do.” Jay reached for the file and handed it back to Gregg. “We’re going to pull him from the street during the demonstration and hide him. Any wetwork teams won’t be able to retire him if they can’t find him.”

  “You’re going to protect a known terrorist? A man that we now know is chest deep in the sex slave markets? A gun and drug runner?”

  “If that’s what it takes to clear Bobby’s name, yeah.”

  Jeff tossed the file back and turned to Jay, “There’s rumors that al-Abadi isn’t the one calling the shots around these parts. Mind you, it’s all rumors, but we’re hearing that there is somebody higher up the food chain.”

  “But no idea who?”

  “Not at the moment. We’re looking into a couple of different possibilities. We don’t have the intel to justify snatching somebody off the street, though.”

  Jay stood and gave Jeff a questioning look. “You’re not going to try to stop us are you?”

  Jeff opened his mouth but chose not to say the words that came to his mind. He sighed heavily and ran his hand across his face. “I don’t know about any of this, got it?”

  Jay smiled and patted his arm. “Good man.” Turning to his crew he nodded, “Time to load up.”

  Outskirts of Karachi, Pakistan

  MARCUS WELLS SCANNED the streets below and clicked his radio. “He’s on the move.”

  “I’ve got him,” the voice on the other end squawked as the encryption device unscrambled the vocal message.

  Marcus turned his long range optics to a man sitting at an open café, his dark sunglasses betraying his eyes. He watched as the man picked up his coffee and quickly downed it then stood and tucked the newspaper under his arm. He slowly pushed his chair in and dropped a tip on the table before turning and making his way lazily down the narrow street.

  “He’s approaching a vehicle. Get me a plate number.”

  Ryan Lynch turned and crossed the street, purposely stepping in front of the black Range Rover that had just pulled out into traffic. The driver honked the horn and Ryan held his hands up as if to surrender and sidestepped the accelerating vehicle. “Got it. Prepare the drone.”

  “It’s already up. I’m tracking now.” Marcus sat down behind the parapet of the roof and punched commands into the controller.

  “Set it for auto track and meet me at the car.” Ryan crossed back to the other side of the street and rounded a corner.

  “On my way.” Marcus closed the cover on the small drone controller and made for the roof access.

  He made his way through the dark corridors of the building and stepped out into a gloomy alleyway. He watched as a Toyota SUV rolled up and stopped beside him.

  “Still got him?” Ryan asked.

  “If this auto tracker is working, then yeah.” Marcus slid into the passenger seat and flipped open the controller again. “Yup. Still on target.”

  “Which direction?”

  “South.” Marcus pointed and Ryan goosed the Toyota out of the alley and onto the streets. “Stay on this road. We’re parallel to him so he won’t have a clue we’re on his tail. If he turns, we can adjust.”

  The pair drove slowly through the streets until Marcus noted the Range Rover turning east. “Turn up here. Make a left.”

  “Crap.” Ryan groaned. “The only thing out that way is the airport.” He turned and eyed Marcus. “Is he on 5?”

  “Yup. Just got on and they’re accelerating.” Marcus cursed under his breath and punched the abort code into the drone.

  “No, stay on him!” Ryan reached for the controller and Marcus pulled it away.

  “We can’t. They’ve got jammers set up out there anyway. If we get too close, we lose the drone.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Jay and his team should be here by now. We need to let them know.”

  Ryan goosed the accelerator again and crossed through town, turning onto the first onramp toward the airport. “If we can’t track him, then we’ll follow him the old fashioned way.”

  “Don’t do anything that draws attention to us.” Marcus listened to the phone ring then relaxed slightly when it was answered. “It looks like they’re headed to the airport. We’re going to close the gap and try to keep eyes on him.”

  He listened while Jay spoke then hung up. “Jay says not to get too close. If he does leave, he’ll be back. He’s supposed to be in town tomorrow.”

  Ryan slowed the Toyota slightly while his mind worked. “Maybe he’s picking somebody up?”

  “Or maybe he’s not going to the airport.” Marcus slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  “Well if we had a drone on him, we’d know.” Ryan couldn’t hide the frustration in his voice.

  “And if it got too close to the airport, we’d be out twelve grand.”

  Ryan shrugged. “We’d just add it to Jay’s bill.”

  “That would go over like a fart in church.” Marcus leaned back in the seat and stared out the windshield. “Hurry up, but not too fast.”

  Ryan gave him a dirty look. “You want to drive?”

  “Nah, you need the practice.”

  Langley, VA

  “SIR? WE HAVE an issue.”

  Darren Chesterfield quickly closed the screen on his computer and turned to the agent standing in his doorway. “What is it now?”

  “We pulled a video feed from a private airport. Bridger has left the country.” He handed the file to the senior man and waited while he skimmed it.

  “What was the flight plan?” He never raised his eyes as he continued to scan the documents.

  “They filed a plan for Montreal, Canada, but…”

  Chesterfield turned to the man and glared. “But? But what?”

  “They never arrived, sir.” The junior agent swallowed hard and pointed to the file. “The blue sticky tab, sir. The report from our man there. The plane never landed and they have no record of a change in the flight plan.”

  Chesterfield squeezed his eyes shut and slapped the folder on his desk. “Who are these people with him?”

  “Most are ex military. Some are…well, contractors, sir.”

  Chesterfield waved the man on. “What kind of contractors?”

  “They work for us, sir. Er, rather, they did. They’ve done all sorts of dirty jobs that we don’t want linked directly to us.”

  Chesterfield leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Mercenaries.”

  “Well, in a way, sir. Yes.”

  He nearly broke into laughter as he began to nod. “This is perfect.”

  “Sir?” The junior agent truly had no clue what he meant, but he was relieved that he was happy with the outcome.

  “Never mind. I have some spinning to do.” He waved the man off and when he heard his door close, he picked up his phone.

  “Nelson.”

  “Colonel, we’ve found Bridger. Well, we had him, but…he’s in the wind with a bunch of mercenaries.” He waited for the colonel to process the news. “If we can tie them and him to the project, then we might be able to—”

  “Who are the mercs?”

  Chesterfield stammered slightly. “I-I don’t…I mean, I’m not sure yet. Sir.”

  “Find out.” Chesterfield heard the phone click and he stared at the receiver in his hand.

  “Or it’s my nuts. Got it.”

  9

  Oklahoma City, OK

  * * *

  ROGER WALLACE TOSSED the covers aside and stumbled to the bathroom. The hotel room was still dark and he heard Brenda mumble something under the covers as he closed the bathroom door. Don’t let the Bureau find out you talk in your sleep. He smiled to himself as he squinted at the image in the mirror. He relieved himself then washed his hands.

  He glanced at his watch then splashed cold water onto his face. It was still a bit early but he had a lot of driving to do. He could almost smell the coffee downstairs that he would need plenty of to make the rest of his journey.

  He opened the door to the bathroom and found
Brenda sitting up in bed, her phone pressed to her ear. He opened his mouth to say something then realized that this wasn’t the time.

  Roger picked up his trousers and slid them on then reached for his shirt. He stood to pull the shirt on and was tackled by a hard form and knocked across the hotel room. He was stunned when his head clipped the edge of the dinette table in the corner.

  Before he could get his wits about him, Brenda was on top of him, her arms trying to work around his neck. His instincts kicked in and he wedged a hand between her arm and his tender throat. He kicked off and rolled to the side, Brenda riding him through the spin.

  He kept trying to ask what the hell was going on, but she tightened her grip on his neck and her well-muscled thighs clamped around his midsection, her heels constantly kicking, trying to knock his legs out from under him.

  He struggled to his feet and launched himself back into the wall, doing his best to either crush her or knock her off of him. The pair bounced from the wall and Roger spun again and kicked up into the air, bringing the pair down on the edge of the overturned dinette.

  He heard a solid oof come from her and her grip on his neck lessened, but still she clung to him. He rolled to the side again and worked his other arm up, gripping her right elbow. He applied force to the proper pressure point and he felt her arm give just enough that he was able to pry her loose from his neck.

  He gripped her arm solidly and threw himself forward, pulling her off in a flipping move. Her body hit the bed and bounced, then she was back on her feet and launching herself at him.

  He brought his arm up to block her grasp and inadvertently delivered an uppercut to her chin that nearly knocked her unconscious. She fell to the floor, dazed and unsteady as she tried to get her feet back under her.

  Roger didn’t waste the moment. He gripped her shoulders, spun her around and wrapped his own arm around her neck. He held her other arm bent back behind her and lifted, putting pressure on her shoulder and elbow as she came to her tiptoes.