American Terrorist (The Rayna Tan Action Thrillers Book 1) (16 page)

“So much for the shut-eye,” Rayna sighed.

Chapter 16
 

It was pitch black. At two in the morning Worm, Kuramoto and Lennie weren’t sleeping, not by a long shot.

“This is bullshit. No television, no internet and I’m getting eaten by the damn bugs in this place,” complained Lennie.

“Maybe it’s cuz they like white meat,” joked Kuramoto half-heartedly. “That f***ing Nabil. Never thought it possible but he’s more boring than the prison imam. And he went on for three hours. Three hours! Atheism, Jewism, Godism, every damned ism in the world he had to talk about. And I couldn’t give a damn about seventy-two virgins when I die. I’ll take me one tore-up, beat-up, used-up ho right now.”

“And we got no beer left, either. What the hell did you get us into, Worm?”

“I never twisted your arm.” Worm ignored the implied criticism.

“So you saying you like this shit? You’re mental.”

“Man, you’re deranged. Course I hate it,” Worm said, “but we just got to play the game.”

“Until when?”

“Until it’s time,” replied Worm defiantly.

“Which is when?” snapped Lennie. “And I couldn’t give a damn about no goddam American Muslim Militia. Let them fight their own fights. I say we go over, kill them and take off.”

“Dude, do you remember what happened when we met them? Nabil just about ripped your damned arm off and he didn’t sweat at all.” Worm rolled over on his bunk. “Not to mention Casey’s wicked fast with a gun. You sneak up on him and you’re dead before you make a move.”

“How about that damned video? I’m not doing anything to that nutbar. He’s gonna chop my head, too!” muttered Kuramoto.

Worm hissed, “Which goes back to my point. We wait.”

“Which goes back to MY point,” snarled Lennie. “When?”

“Shut the f*** up. I want to sleep,” growled Worm.

“Problem’s still gonna be there when you open your eyes in the morning.”

Chapter 17
 

After the conference with Julio, the brain trust of clerics and FME continued their research the old-fashioned way; they looked at maps and started making calls. Before they started, Rayna added one more thought to consider. “While this was a Christian village under attack, the other targets may not have been Christian.”

The research was frustrating. Detailed maps were unavailable. In some villages, no one had a phone. Other villages had no electricity, making electronic or internet communication impossible.
 

Calls to various military FOBs and bases weren’t much help, either. No one had any bright ideas. Back at CenCom, Julio hacked into military computers from different sources and he came up with doughnuts, too.

There was only one thing to do. Go to the roof so Boom Boom could have a smoke.

***

“One problem about this place is that the truth is out there somewhere, but no one knows where the hell it is,” Boom Boom told Rayna as the two of them stared at the star-filled sky. “And you can never tell who is friend or foe because allegiances switch so quickly.”

“So why did you stay here, Boom Boom?” asked Rayna, closing her eyes and allowing a cooler breeze to envelop her face.
 

“Honestly, Rayna? I do it because, if people like me don’t do it, nobody will. And, if nobody does it, the bad guys win. It is so absolutely nuts. One turban top fighting another turban top, both saying they have the same religion but boy, you watch how they act? They’re more like devils than angels. But why do I do it? The real answer is that it’s like gangrene. If you stop it early, you’ve got a better chance of stopping it altogether.”

“But we’re no longer early.”

“If you stop it while it’s still growing, you’ve got a better chance of stopping it before it infects the whole body. You just have to start.”

“Boom Boom?”

“Yeah?”

“You just made a whole lot more sense than four years of the philosophy program I took.” Rayna laughed.

“That useless?”

They chuckled and then Rayna got a text. She took a look and announced. “They’re ready for us.”

“Okay.”

“But one more thing first.” Rayna suddenly pulled Boom Boom close to her and kissed him deeply. Lips locked, tongues interlaced, breathless gasps...
 

“Now why didn’t we do that before?” asked Boom Boom.
 

“You were just a kid. Now you’re a man… I like men.”
 

“I remember you as the princess type. And, if I did anything, I would have been nailed for sexual harassment,” Boom Boom growled.

“Well, I now outrank you. So am I the one doing the harassing?”

“Any time you like.” Boom Boom grinned. “That was an appetizer. Main course when we get back.”

Chapter 18
 

When the U.S. military decided they were going to downsize their Middle Eastern ground efforts, thousands of Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAPs) vehicles became expendable. A lot of the half million dollar vehicles were given away to police departments. Some of the perfectly usable machines were picked up for pennies on the dollar, three by FME, including the one Rayna approached in the pre-dawn morning.

“So what’s the plan, lady, man?” asked Steve, the driver, as Rayna climbed aboard.

“We’re hunting needles in haystacks.”
 

“Love it. More overtime for me. Time and a half.”

“What you getting paid?” asked Rayna seriously.

“Duh. Zero. I’m one of him,” nodded Steve, pointing at Boom Boom as he drove up in an old Jeep.

“You’re not safe in that!” exclaimed Rayna.

Boom Boom pointed at Steve. “I’m following you guys. You’ll get blown up before I do.” He winked, not realizing she was worried about him, not herself. Seeing her uneasiness, he added, “Relax. It was a joke. You’d be safe in an atomic bomb explosion with that sucker.” Boom Boom turned to Steve. “Let’s start at 40° 40’ 30” North, 40° 3’ 35” East.”
 

“Somewhere in al Haksa Province,” replied Steve, looking at the map after plugging in the coordinates. “What’s there?”

“If we knew, would we need you?” quipped Boom Boom. “There’s at least five villages in that general area give or take a hundred-and-fifty-mile diameter. Each one could be a candidate for what we’re looking for.”

“Or not,” replied Steve.

“Or not,” agreed Rayna, nodding, hiding her worry as best she could.

***

Although it was less than two hundred and twenty miles away from their starting point and the Cougar MRAP was capable of cruising along at almost sixty miles per hour, it took them almost seven hours to reach their destination. The road was filled with unexploded IEDs in unexpected places and the MRAP’s V-shaped hull deflected the explosive charges of more than a few of them. While the vehicle protected its passengers, every time there was an incident, the vehicle had to stop to clean the dust, dirt and sand off the small, front armored-glass windows, a situation made more difficult in the almost nonexistent light. They saved precious minutes with Boom Boom being able to jump out of the Jeep quickly instead of having to unload personnel from the MRAP cab.
 

Finally arriving at the first unnamed village at about 0900 hours, they parked about a half mile out of town. The five micro-drones were sent in to see what they could discover.

Even though they were seasoned warriors, Boom Boom, Rayna and the other members of the team still marveled at the advances technology had made since the time they first entered the armed forces. Weighing less than half a pound and about the size of a couple of packages of cigarettes standing side by side, these $50,000 quiet flying machines quickly entered the city and sent HD quality images of the settlement of about two hundred people. The group huddled around the monitor inside the MRAP and were able to determine that the village had been attacked.

Not surprising. This was Syria, after all. More important to their present purposes, they determined the attack was not recent, probably occurring at least six months earlier.

Rayna made an executive decision. While it was possible the group they wished to find out more about was the one that wreaked carnage on this settlement, she wanted witnesses who could provide more current descriptions and information. “Let’s boogie.”

The MRAP lumbered on to the next location. This time Rayna left the air-conditioned cab of the MRAP to join Boom Boom in the Jeep. Not much of a date. They were focused on the job at hand but it was better than nothing.
 

As the vehicle approached the next village, signs of old rampage were in full evidence. No need for the drones here. Unrepaired potholes, crumbling walls that were victims of RPG grenades, carcasses of animals and humans...
 

The MRAP kept on going, and three hours and half a dozen land mine incidents later, they arrived at the next unnamed location. This time, the carnage was still relatively fresh.

The small team got out. Dr. George, the group medic, set up an impromptu infirmary—a folding card table manned by Steve, who screened potential patients. There was so much medical need and so little time. Boom Boom, accompanied by another FME cohort, did a short recon while Rayna approached three teenaged girls in the line-up who had no outward signs of injury.

“What’s the matter?” asked Rayna in Arabic.

One of the girls burst into tears and started beating Rayna. “Animals. They hurt me. They hurt me. And I will have their baby and I don’t know who the father is.”

Rayna grabbed the girl’s arms and sat her down. “Who are they, and when did this happen?”

“Seven weeks ago,” sobbed the girl. “I missed my period. I never miss my period.”

Seeing Rayna’s empathy, the other two girls joined their friend. All of them were raped. All of them were pregnant. All of them wanted abortions. Rayna was prepared for this but she knew she could do nothing. Most government and non-governmental agencies were reluctant to fund abortions under any circumstance, but there was a small token she could offer.

“I cannot help you take your babies’ lives, but I can try to bring justice. Can you tell me if any of these are the men who raped you?” Rayna took out an iPad and showed the girls a portion of the beheading video. “Do you recognize any of them?”

“They have hoods on here. They did not wear hoods with us,” said one girl.
 

“Perfect. What did they look like?” asked Rayna.

All the girls started babbling at once. Words flowed out as Rayna recorded their descriptions. After five minutes, the girls slowed their conversation. In a way, the descriptions were generic and could be applied to hundreds of millions of men. Dark, bearded, not too old. Two of the men were average height, but the shortest girl said one man was like a giant. Rayna wasn’t sure whether it was because she was comparing the man’s height to her own diminutive stature or if he was genuinely tall. She showed the video again. This time she stopped at the man with the scimitar. “Is he the one?”

“I... I can’t tell,” whimpered the girl. “Did I do bad?” she asked fearfully.

“No, no, no. You are just fine. Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything about his face?”

“I closed my eyes the whole time. I didn’t want to see anything,” the girl sobbed.

“I understand. It was really terrible. I wouldn’t want to see what happened, either. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

The girl nodded. “I scratched him.” She lifted her hand to show a missing fingernail on the index finger of her right hand. “I reached for his eye but he jerked his head and I pulled down from under his eye. I don’t know how far.”

“Then what happened?” asked Rayna, trying to contain her excitement.

“I don’t know. He hit me and knocked me out. But I know he was bleeding. When I woke up, my fingernail was lying beside me. It was full of blood.”

“Can I take a look?” Thoughts of testing for DNA and getting a fast match of identity fleeted through Rayna’s brain.

The girl shook her head. “I burned it.”

“Oh.” Rayna continued for another half hour but there was no new information. She took their names and contact info, promising to try to get them help.

Time to move on.

***

For the next eight hours, they visited another five villages. Territory grew increasingly dangerous and, in the Jeep, the air scorched their lungs and the sun burned through their sunblock as Boom Boom and Rayna traveled together.
 

At every location, a familiar heartbreaking story was told, at least familiar to anyone who had spent time in the war zone that was the Middle East. Women were ravaged, men were beaten or killed, children abducted, buildings razed, blasted by grenades and burned to the ground. Any valuables that could be found were confiscated. All that remained were broken shells of humanity, each person feeling hopeless and helpless.

Rayna commented, “I really don’t know why more don’t help. If any of the news media bothered to film the reality of these victims’ lives, there would be no question about wanting to help them.”

“That’s the bleeding heart in you coming out,” retorted Boom Boom.

“You should talk,” Rayna told him. “You’re actually paying to help these suckers out. The only question in whether or not to allow anyone in as a refugee is the legitimacy of their claim.”

“Like I said, that’s the bleeding heart in you.”

“Blame my dad. He’s a pastor.”

“If you wave the Bible at me, I’m outta here fast.”

Heartache was something Boom Boom and Rayna were used to seeing. It was something soldiers since the beginning of time were used to seeing, but it didn’t mean they liked it or ever got used to it.

After the fifth village, there was little more Dr. George could do—medical supplies were depleted. So, with no medicine for patients and no food to give to the hungry, time spent in each location was minimal. They were able to stop and go, stop and go, for their search.

Finding needles in haystacks was painstakingly slow, but they were rewarded with additional nuggets of info. Two villages confirmed the attackers were led by a big man and, in one, a girl confirmed that she had been raped by the big attacker and yes, there was a scar that ran down his face from his lower eyelash to his chin.