Genecaust Page 21

  MJ glanced at the dust tail in the SUV's wake. "Damn, it's deja vu all over again. This freaking dust can be seen for a dozen miles. Why don't we slow down instead of making all the dust for every bad guy to see? Besides it'd be better for Granger."

  Without responding to her, the medic yelled at the driver. "She's right. We've got go slower. Granger's head can't take this level of abuse. He's got to be able make the long flight in the copter from the base to the airport."

  "If you lower the speed you can also lower this damn dust trail."

  The driver bought into of the wisdom of reducing their speed, and Granger stopped bouncing on the gurney. His position on the gurney still shifted about, but that was unavoidable on the uneven desert.

  Once more, glancing at their rear. MJ nodded. "The dust is settling, much bet—" She stretched her neck to affirm what she saw. "There's a truck on our ass, and it's closing."

  The SUV picked up speed. Bullets loudly dinged, and Ron yelled into his handheld to the helicopter. "We're taking fire from the southeast. Repeat from the southeast. Need assistance." Vehicle's still closing. Its trajectory will make it pass on our left, to our north in one minute." His voice kept relaying their position and that of the pursuing force. The metallic pings increased in number and got louder.

  Someone at the rear of the vehicle yelled. "Visual on mounted fifty cals."

  A loud burst of metal grazed the side of the car.

  "Hurry. We're taking hits. 50-caliber rounds. We can't out run—"

  The limo bounced out of control when shots filled the front seat from the driver's side of the van killing Norman and Ron. Blood spattered everywhere, and MJ couldn't see to fire off a round. Weaving and bouncing, the van teetered on two wheels then rolled twice before settling upright, dead in the sand.

  * * *

  Several miles away, Meret's speeding car hit a bumpy patch, and her head banged the window. Steve yelled into his phone. "MJ, we're almost an hour north of your location. Your copter should be there in minutes. Prepare to evac from the SUV. Move as fast as you can. The copter will cover you, but you'll still have to make a run for it."

  Sitting alone in the back seat, Meret pulled off her disguise as the local's obedient daughter while the men outside scanned the horizon for any signs of pursuit while ditching their Arab costumes to re-emerge as field agents.

  While the driver checked the tires and Steve took another call, Meret left the privacy of the car to help scan the horizon.

  "Back in the car," Steve yelled. "We got trouble. Go north, Sahib," he shouted at the driver."

  "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He slammed his fist on the dash. "Christ. Their SUV got hit just as the copter arrived. It wiped out the bad guys but was too late. Three agents killed. Granger and medic are in bad shape."

  "Granger and the medic? What about MJ? How is MJ?" Meret's stomach flip-flopped, and she couldn't catch her breath. She didn't want to hear his answer, but she needed to.

  "They're headed for MASHUP2. That's all I got."

  "You and your damn acronyms. What does that mean, Steve? What about MJ." She was hysterical and near tears.

  "We're ordered to assemble there. Germany and Rome will have to wait until this mess has been cleared."

  "They got MJ, didn't they? Say it, Steve. Say it," she yelled at him."

  He dropped his chin and in a quiet, not quite steady voice, she said, "Yes. MJ, Norman, and Ron were killed. I don't know what kind of shape Hawking is in."

  Where's our copter pickup?" the driver asked. "I can push this, but don't count on more than 50. The desert is tearing up the engine.

  Steve pressed his hand to his forehead, and Meret felt sorry about yelling at him. He had lost three friends, whereas she only knew MJ, who was so passionate about finding the bastards who threatened people's lives. MJ, who so quickly became a staunch and caring friend. God dammit. She swallowed a sob and ground her teeth together. Why wasn't anything ever fair?

  "They're sending new coordinates. We're to continue north until we get an update."

  Meret put her hands on the back of his seat and pulled herself closer. "MASHUP2 is a secret base? Does that mean it's equipped as a field hospital?"

  Tired, dejected, and frustrated, he scrubbed his face with his hands. "That's just a code name. It's a hidden supply center. We've got them everywhere. But yes, it's also stocked with ample medical supplies. You, Doctor Mather, and one, possibly two, field agents trained as medics are the hospital staff."

  Steve held his cell in the palm of his hand so everyone in the SUV could see the horizontal screen. A small green dot approached a larger red dot on a light tan background until they touched. "We're here. Stop the car and wait."

  Everyone looked through the windscreen.

  "At what?" Meret asked. There's nothing here.

  Steve spoke softly. "You'll see."

  The vehicle looked like the last piece of dark chocolate in a box full of sand as the surface around the vehicle for 100 feet in every direction began to sink. Meret had the sensation of being swallowed whole in a horror movie until directly ahead, she thought she saw doors. Bizarre. A huge pair of metal doors, looking every bit like an airplane hangar, appeared. They opened, and the car advanced toward the growing maw.

  The darkness vanished under a blanket of artificial light. Helicopters with their rotor blades folded back sat like sleeping crows, interspaced rows of desert combat vehicles.

  MASHUP2 defied Meret's expectations. "How in hell did all this stuff—"

  "You can thank DARPA." He smiled for the first time in hours and then shrugged. "Who else could envision pre-fab, steel reinforced rectangular concrete boxes resembling standard shipping containers, buried in the sand, invisible from space. While the platform door dropped 50 feet, the bunkers are five stories deep, with four containers by six containers, or twenty-four on every level."

  "Big," Meret said, somewhat breathlessly. She didn't know what else to say. Maybe massive or huge would have been better.

  Steve waved an arm. "All the lighting, plumbing, communication have been pre-wired and plugged with power from a mainframe of electrochemical cells born out of HyperPhysics. This complex is to house and service a company of forty Marines and security personnel. Each facility has a complete kitchen and sufficient supplies to support a division in the field for six months. Feel the vibrations in your feet? It's from the hydraulic system that opens and closes the entrance.

  Steve patted her on her knee. "Come on. I'll give you the Cooks Tour later. Here's Granger."

  In a gust of sand, the rescue helicopter appeared at the large hanger-like doors. Agents carried Hawking, rushing over uneven sand. Once on concrete, they placed him on a wheeled gurney for transport to the ER. As Meret and Steve approached, two Special Agents extended an arm and blocked their way. Each held an ID for inspection.

  The tall one with beady eyes, said, "I'm Agent Hartwell, and this is Agent Dunning. We've been assigned to debrief Special Agent Hawking, so we'll be taking over now."

  Meret stepped away from the gurney. "This agent needs immediate medical treatment, and I'm his physician."

  The agent brushed her aside with a look down his hooked nose. "We have our orders."

  With a stone cold expression, Meret walked up to him and with no warning, cold cocked him with a left hook to the jaw. He fell like the proverbial lead brick. Rubbing her knuckles, She fixed her eyes on the second agent who had reached for his Glock.

  "I wouldn't do that, Agent."

  Steve, from behind her right ear said, "I'm Special Agent Fairchild, and your only move here is to pick up your partner and follow us to the ER. His face is going to need an ice pack."

  39

  Consciousness

  May, desert underground sanctuary and Meret loses it

  His consciousness was all that mattered to her now. What might have happened to his brain gave her grave concern for his complete recovery. She believed any excitement or stimulation, of any sort, needed to be avoid
ed if Granger was to recover from his rescue entirely. For that matter, she didn't look forward to any more caviler military attitude either and approached the tented underground hospital with some apprehension.

  Feeling a bit disgusted with her earlier lapse of civility, she excused herself because Steve didn't personally know the two agents the Company had sent for Hawking's debriefing and therefore, neither he nor she, trusted them. She was more relieved she hadn't damaged her hand.

  Shit.

  The two agents had already arrived and were sitting at the end of Granger’s bed meticulously setting up their makeshift office on two hospital food trays.

  She entered the tent, glanced at the agent she knocked out and tried not to dwell on the good-sized bruise on his chin. She focused her attention on Granger’s sleeping body and spoke without an introduction. “As you know, Special Agent Granger Hawking has been held captive by unknown forces for the past month. Today, he recovers here, somewhere in the southern Yemen desert with minimal medical support. I'm pleased Director Davies invited you to assist SA Agent Granger in remembering what happened while captive, however, as his physician, I will watch over him. I am Doctor Meret Mather, his CIA appointed physician." That was more or less true. “I was part of the field team that located and extracted him and have I overseen his recovery since.”

  She checked the monitors and tubes providing medication and needed hydration and then glanced at Granger’s resting form. After a quick, gentle squeeze of his thumb, she looked that them and nodded, signaling Granger was ready. Standing by his side, she set parameters for them as his interrogators.

  “I have no intention of limiting your access to Special Agent Hawking, or of interfering with your questions. Your job is to learn everything you can about his confinement. I know that he has experienced severe head trauma as a result of that incarceration and unfortunately, additionally trauma during his rescue." She placed her clipboard on a side table and sat in a plain metal chair facing them. "Once Agent Hawking begins to speak, it is important not to interrupt him. For the time being, his processing is rather linear, and he has great difficulty getting back on track when interrupted. Make a note of your questions as we proceed. First I'll set the scene telling you what I know."

  The agents nodded and took out their pens.

  “Ten days ago, Special Agent Granger Hawking was ordered to travel to Yemen to meet with a long-time asset at Aden’s Seera Fun City for a rare face-to-face meeting.”

  She shifted in her chair to a more comfortable position.

  As Meret told the story of what happened, the two agents gave her their undivided attention and only asked an occasional question for clarity. “

  “When did it go wrong?”

  “When Yasser got suspicious of two men trailing him. He sent Hawking to find his boys in the amusement park and send them home. When he returned to his asset, two men were shoving him into a car. Granger was made on the spot. He gave himself up rather than endanger the crowds of families with a shootout.

  “Granger told you this?” The taller of the two agents, the one with the big bruise, asked her.

  She ignored his skepticism and looked at him with no expression. He didn’t need to know what she thought of him.

  He exhaled and continued “I assume your main interest focuses on what he might have learned during his captivity.”

  She nodded. “Granger may have new information that will save a great many lives. We checked blood and liver for evidence of strong drugs but found none. It is likely they kept him awake and sober. We found no physical evidence of torture. If handled correctly we may learn about the group responsible, what they looked like, if he has ever seen them before and most importantly, what might be their plan.”

  She glanced toward the door. Where the hell was Steve? She didn't want Granger telling these yokels anything until he got here. She laid a hand on Granger’s arm, and he opened his eyes, which were focused and clear. She got the distinct impression he'd been listening all along.

  Echoing her thoughts, he whispered slowly, “Get Fairchild in here. I’m ready for his questions.” He tried to move his shoulders higher on his pillow. “Help me set my bed up.”

  She called a nurse with her finger and told her what to do for Granger and his interview with SA Fairchild.

  She walked by the seated pair of agents. "Give us a minute.” Opening the door, she turned to look down the hall for Steve and bumped into him before he could enter. "Oh, glad you’re here. I've been stalling two agents sent to question Granger. You'll remember the tall one. He's the guy I punched.”

  Glancing past her through the open door, Steve whispered, "I got this. They mean well but I suspect they assume it’s part of their orders to guard him.”

  She nodded. “Granger needs a light hand. Someone willing to wait for him to work through his responses.”

  After reassigning the pair of agents to guard the hallway outside of Granger's recovery area, Steve took one of their chairs. “Sorry. Yeah, I got hung up.” He placed the chair so Meret could sit close to Granger’s head and walked to the opposite side of the bed with the other chair. “You’re looking like shit, Hawk. Glad to have you home.” Steve shook his friend’s hand. Rough going, huh.”

  The only recognition Granger gave was a slight lift of his chin. Steve took over the investigation and spoke softly. “Tell us what you remember from the time you were put in the car. Every detail, even the small ones, can be important." He sat and placed one arm over the bed's protective sidebar and added, “Take your time.”

  Granger adjusted his position in bed and moved the IV line off his arm. “After a short ride away from the Park, the SUV stopped, and they pulled me out of the vehicle. I still had my head covered and didn’t know what happened to Yasser. I think he was still in the car. Do you know—?”

  He stopped when Meret shook her head. “Oh.” He was silent for several moments.

  Finally, Steve said, “I’m sorry, Hawk. It wasn’t supposed to happen. We think Yasser was wrapped up in something. They were after him, and you were collateral."

  Meret watched him pull himself together and refocus.

  “After they, two men, took me from the car . . . I think I heard a tracked metal garage door open, then close. The men shoved me down what seemed to be an outdoor hallway and then into an elevator.

  Fairchild patted his arm. “Up to this point, they didn’t rough you up or question you?”

  Meret glared at him “We discussed that. Go slower. Most of Granger’s head trauma comes later.”

  Fairchild moved closer to the bed for support.

  Granger response began with a slow nod of acknowledgment. "From the soft dings, I think we exited on the fifth floor. They pushed me along with grunts and mutterings. I assume we entered an apartment and they shoved me into a chair."

  He stopped and gazed off into space, and Meret wondered if he had had enough for a while. His bruised face said they battered pretty hard. She snorted. Pretty hard. How inadequate was that? His ribs and legs told the same awful story. Thoughts of MJ sailed through her head. It wasn't fair. She should be here to comfort him. Granger needed it. He eyes kept sagging shut, and he paused in the middle of sentences. She wondered if he forgot what he was saying. "Do you want to stop for a bit? She asked.

  Granger waved a hand and plowed on. "One of the men handcuffed my wrists to the metal arms of the chair and my ankles to the metal legs. It was an upright chair that got damn uncomfortable in short order." He snorted and mumbled, "The least of my worries, I assure you. I am pretty sure I heard the footsteps that signaled the exit of the two thugs who escorted me to wherever I was. New footsteps came up behind me and snatched the hood off my head.”

  "A fat lot of good it did." The only light was an ambient glow coming through a window. A big window. It filled the wall. With no interior lighting, it was too dark to see any more than fuzzy outlines. The man came around in front of me and sucker punched me in the stomach. While I was trying t
o keep the coffee down that I had earlier, he cold cocked me to the head and left me balancing on the edge of consciousness. I'm not sure if he stayed or left."

  He blinked his eyes, whether to remove the remaining fuzziness from his concussion or to keep himself awake, she wasn't sure.

  "When I could think again, with any clarity, I saw small moving lights in the distance crossing the window at intervals. Finally, I figured out they were planes. That meant an airport was nearby. Considering the volume of traffic, it had to be Aden International because we hadn't driven very far." He paused, thinking. “Just as I realized I had to be in that new high-rise condo complex south of the airport, the heavy scent of gardenia drifted over my right shoulder.”

  "As in Perfume? A woman was part of the group that grabbed you and Yasser?”

  Granger’s eyes closed and opened giving the sign for affirmative. “Most of my communication was with a woman a very persuasive woman."

  Fairchild asked, “A woman, are you sure it was a woman?”

  No response. Granger had closed his eyes.

  Meret frowned. “He’s sleeping.” She looked at Fairchild. “Steve, is that something you would expect from Middle Eastern kidnappers? Why would the people go to the trouble to take Yasser as a prisoner and allow a woman to interrogate one of our finest combat operatives in Yemen, of all places?”

  Steve sat back and folded his arms. With Granger resting, he spoke in a natural and measured voice.

  “You know, the more I learn about this operation, the more I think the organization behind Yasser and Granger's abduction and even the possibility that the attack on Socotra would have had its origins in the Middle East is ludicrous. The culture would never give a woman that power. I think this all points to a non-Arabic organization.”

  Meret repeated the question. “Why then did they take Granger?”

  “My gut says he’s a collateral pick up. I’m hoping Granger will be able to clear that up. We need to find out what he knows about them and what he might know about their next operation.”