Chapter Thirty-four

 

 

Outskirts of Zuwarah, Libya

 

Mezri stretched his hands on the ground. He cast a defiant glance at Justin and mumbled something incomprehensible.

Justin looked up for an instant. A couple of gunmen sprinted out of the warehouse, only to be met by Patton’s barrage. They folded against the wall, dead before they hit the ground.

Justin drew in a quick, shallow breath and leaned over Mezri. “What land? And who’s W and K?”

Mezri did not make a sound, not even a mumble. Of course, his words would not come out until Justin removed the Beretta’s muzzle from Mezri’s mouth.

Patton said, “Justin, we’ve got to go.”

Justin ignored Patton’s words. He pulled back the Beretta just enough for Mezri to draw in an easier breath. “Who are they?”

“Go to hell.”

“You first.”

Justin shoved the pistol back into Mezri’s mouth. He moved it farther to the left side, away from the jihadist’s throat and teeth. When Justin felt the muzzle was tight against the inside of Mezri’s cheek, the Canadian agent pulled the trigger.

Mezri’s scream came out muffled as the bullet tore through his cheek. Blood spattered Justin’s face, but he barely blinked. “Do I need to ask you again, or fire again?”

“Justin, what are you doing?” Patton held him by the shoulder.

“I’m working here.”

“We’ve got to go.”

“Shortly.”

He leaned closer to Mezri, whose eyes were rolling in their sockets. “Now, or I’ll blow your head off.”

Mezri hesitated for another moment and tried to look away.

Justin shrugged and moved the pistol to the other side of Mezri’s mouth. The pistol clanged against his teeth, and Justin thought he had chipped or broken off one of them. He shrugged again. He’d better talk and quick. “Last chance.” He leaned onto the pistol.

Mezri nodded so violently, the pistol almost went off.

Justin uncocked the Beretta and pulled it back. “What land? And who are W and K?”

Mezri spat out a mouthful of frothy blood mixed with saliva and took in a series of quick breaths. Then he said, “It’s Afghanistan ... The land is Afghanistan.”

“That’s a large place. Where exactly?”

A series of gunshots echoed from behind them. Mezri’s eyes flitted to that side.

Justin said, “You’ll be dead before they get here.” He tapped Mezri’s throat with the muzzle of the pistol. “Where?”

Mezri sighed. “Ghourian. It’s in the province of Herat.”

Justin nodded. He had read about the recent attempt by the Afghan government to regain control over the lawless area. The Taliban and tribal warlords, who were fighting alongside Islamic State terrorists who were scattered away after their caliphate crumpled in Syria and Iraq, had mounted a fierce resistance, which had resulted in a massive number of casualties on both sides. Eventually, the government had pushed most of the enemy across the border, into the mountainous regions of Turkmenistan. An attack would throw the region into a renewed state of chaos.

“And who are Walid and Khalid? Taliban?”

Mezri shook his head. “They’re nobody.”

“What?”

“Yes, they don’t exist. It’s a codename for Wilayat Khurasan, which is—”

“I know what it is.” The words were the designation the Islamic State used to refer to a broader area in Afghanistan and Pakistan in all their communications. “So, there are no fighters named Walid or Khalid?”

“No, no.” Mezri shook his head again.

Patton said, “Justin, watch out.”

A long barrage sent him ducking for cover. He rolled on the dusty ground as bullets stitched up a ribbon around him. He spun around and fired a few rounds at the two gunmen who had appeared at the entrance to the warehouse. One of them dropped to his side but was able to crawl behind the wall. The other one lay flat on the ground.

Justin thought, Where is Carrie? Did something happen to her? Until now, she had covered that side, and no one had been able to enter the warehouse yard. But the situation had evolved. As more gunfire erupted behind the walls, Justin realized they could be surrounded.

He glanced at Patton, then at Mezri, who had flipped onto his stomach and was crawling toward a rifle lying next to one of the dead gunmen. “Stop, don’t do it,” Justin shouted.

Patton let off a quick barrage that pinned Mezri to the ground and ended his crawl. “Let’s go. Now!”

Justin nodded and jumped to his feet. He picked up one of the gunmen’s rifles and turned it toward the gate. “I’ll cover this side.”

“I’ve got your back.”

Justin sprinted toward the wall, swinging his rifle left and right, to cover all sides. An explosion came from the left, the direction of Carrie’s position. He bit his lip and cursed under his breath. Neither Justin nor Patton could be of any help to her—if Carrie needed any help—until they were out in the alley. Even there, it would depend on the number of gunmen and their positions.

When he reached the wall, Justin stopped and listened. More gunshots erupted in what sounded like only a few yards to his right. He wished he had a grenade to toss it over the wall, but an old-model AK rifle with a battered wooden stock was his only weapon.

He waited for another moment until Patton stepped next to him. “You ready?”

“In a moment. Which way?”

“Right. To the van.”

“And Carrie?”

“She’ll meet us there, as per the plan.”

“Yes, the plan.” Patton sighed.

“What, you didn’t think this might happen?”

“I wished it hadn’t. But here we are.”

“Let’s go.”

“Sure.”

Justin stepped closer to the wall and moved his rifle’s barrel across the gate’s threshold. A barrage of bullets pounded the wall, sending slivers toward him. He withdrew the rifle before one of the bullets struck the barrel and made the weapon useless.

“We need another way out,” Patton whispered.

“This way.” Justin pointed to the right. “Along the side and around their back.”

“We might run into other fighters...”

“Yes, but we’re pinned down here.”

Patton nodded. “Let’s go.”

He led Justin deeper into the yard. They had gone about ten steps when an explosion came from the gate. Dust and smoke billowed and a couple of cinderblocks rolled onto the ground.

Justin shook his head. If they had been positioned near the gate, the explosion would have killed them, or at least would have caused serious wounds.

They reached the wall in a matter of seconds, and Justin helped Patton scale it, while trying to make as little noise as possible. When Patton reached the top, he took a quick peek. “Clear,” he whispered to Justin. “Come on.”

Justin hoisted his rifle over his shoulders, then jumped up and reached for Patton’s outstretched hand. He pulled as hard as he could, and both agents dropped into the back alley. Patton said, “We can’t go to the van. The area’s too hot.”

“Carrie expects us there.”

“She’ll realize it’s beyond our reach. We’ll find new transport.”

Justin nodded and glanced around. No vehicles nearby. His eyes searched farther away, and he thought he noticed a small box-shaped silhouette of a vehicle across the intersection, perhaps a hundred or so yards away. “That’s the closest.”

“Let’s go for it.”

Patton sprinted in that direction.

Justin followed closely behind, slowing for only a moment when coming close to windows or going in front of gates. No one took shots at them until they reached the intersection.

As Patton zipped through, a barrage came from the right side. The bullets—Justin could see exactly where they were hitting since the shooter was using tracer rounds—struck a few feet away from Patton. He dove and rolled away from the fiery torrent.

Justin turned his AK and squeezed off a quick burst at the shooter’s position in a second-story window. The tracer rounds were a dead giveaway. The shooter disappeared inside the room, and Justin was not certain if his bullets had hit the target. It did not matter, as long as no more bullets threatened their lives.

He caught up with Patton, who limped back to his feet. “He got you?” Justin asked.

“No, but I think I sprained my ankle. Run in front—”

“No, we’re almost there.”

“Halfway.”

“Right. This is the easy half.”

Justin slowed his pace, waiting for Patton, who kept running. He winced and cursed every few seconds, but they were making good progress. Gunshots echoed from a long distance behind them, but there was no movement presenting a real, immediate threat.

When they were about thirty yards away from the vehicle—an old model SUV—it started to back up, heading toward them.

“Can’t we catch a break?” Patton stopped and raised his rifle.

“No, wait.”

A hand came out of the window and seemed to wave at them. It was followed by a quick honk and another wave.

Justin peered hard. “I think that’s Carrie.”

“Really?”

“Well, not sure, but hold fire.”

Patton whipped his head around. Bright lights shone from the back alley they had just come through. The vehicle was still beyond the intersection but coming at them fast. “Justin, if that’s not Carrie, we’re trapped.”

Justin was already looking through his AK rifle sight. He waited until the moment when the light in the SUV’s cab came on and lit up the woman in the driver’s seat. Her long auburn hair pulled back in a semi-ponytail left no doubt about her identity. “That’s Carrie.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah. You go first.”

Justin pivoted on his knee and aimed his AK at the approaching vehicle. He fired single rounds, as precisely as he could. One of the headlights went dark. A couple of bullets must have struck the driver, because the car slowed down, then turned and smashed against one of the house’s walls.

Still on one knee, Justin waited, but no one moved around the SUV. It seemed everyone inside was either dead or was choosing to play dead.

“Justin, get in.” Carrie’s voice rang in his ear along with the screech of brakes.

He felt the wind and dust wash over him as Carrie stopped the SUV a couple of feet away from him. Justin threw a last glance at the enemy’s SUV, still stuck in the same place, then slipped through the back door.

Carrie said, “You good?”

“As good as new.”

“Great. Hold on to something...”

She hit the gas, then yanked at the steering wheel as the SUV tore through the intersection and drifted to the right. Carrie’s trained hands let the steering wheel roll, then she switched gears. The SUV barrelled forward, burning rubber and leaving behind a cloud of smoke.

“What did you learn?” Carrie said.

“The target is Afghanistan, somewhere in the Herat province.”

“That’s where Doma is going, right?”

“I think so, but AK will have to confirm that.”

“Haven’t been to A-stan in a while.”

“I hear it’s lovely at this time of year...”

Patton shook his head. “You guys are crazy, but I love you anyway.”

Carrie gave him a sideways glance. “Love? You’re not dying, are you?”

Patton shook his head. “Sprained my ankle. Should be okay in a matter of days.”

Justin nodded. “We’ll need at least a day or two to come up with a plan. I’ll call AK as soon as we’re out of danger.”

“Five minutes tops, and we’ll lose them for sure. Then, we’ll head to Malta.”

A speedboat was waiting at the port, ready for their short trip across the sea. The smuggler was the same man who had arranged for the Libyan asset’s trip to Malta a few days ago.

Justin nodded. “Yes. It would be nice to take a day or two off in Malta, before we continue our hunt for Doma.”