RAQQA, SYRIA

The CIA, flush with cash, made Zach an offer he couldn’t refuse. The only missions he accepted were those where the pay was commensurate with the risk. The higher the risk, the higher the fee. Masoud had laid out the details of this new assignment, and if all went well, they’d be able to complete the mission, return safely home, and enjoy the fruits of their labor. If it didn’t go well, Zach didn’t even want to think about the deadly ramifications of a mission failure.

“These men are Mohammed and Kaseem,” Masoud said. “They’re local Syrians who work for the CIA and Pentagon. They’ll be your guides on this op. Your assignment is to locate and take down an ISIS leader in his home in Raqqa, the defacto capital of this terrorist group.”

“Mmm hmm,” Tony murmured. “Right in the heart of ISIS territory. And just how do you expect us to get in and out of there without being noticed?”

“Glad you asked,” Masoud said. He opened a bag and pulled out three burqas.

“Burqas?” Zach asked, staring at the full length black garments.

“Your new disguise. Our two Syrian friends are going to drive you right into Raqqa disguised as women. They’ll get you close enough to get coordinates needed to guide a missile right into the home of the terrorist leader.”

“I’ve had enough burqas to last me a lifetime,” Juan said. “Women’s burqas, combat burqas. Enough already.”

Tony pulled one of the garments over his head and twirled around. “What do you think, fellas? Does this dress make me look fat?”

Everyone chuckled.

“It’ll make an interesting story to tell your grandchildren someday,” Zach said.

“Yeah, if we live long enough to have any,” Juan piped up, a forlorn look on his face.

Zach slapped him on the back. “Buck up, buddy. I’ve studied the details of this op, and I’m confident we can pull this off. We’ll have lots of back up, so get dressed, honey. Time to go to the prom.”

THIS WAS one for the ages, Zach thought as he, Tony, and Juan sat in the back of the Toyota pickup while their Syrian comrades drove them through the Islamic State’s de facto capital of Raqqa. This was the only way to sneak past security and locate the bunker of a jihadi commander and the Islamic terrorists who surrounded him.

The body-enveloping burqas served as camouflage and hid the multiple assault weapons, grenades, and ammunition hidden beneath their ankle-length black gowns. Zach pitied the women forced to wear these things. They were hot, cumbersome, and impaired a person’s vision. This wasn’t freedom. This was no way for women to live, not that they had a choice. One could be severely punished for failure to be properly dressed. He had great empathy for Muslim women.

Everywhere he looked as they rode through the city, he saw the sad evidence of war and strife. Buildings blown to bits, and a total lack of modernization were the norm rather than the exception. The city had suffered greatly from the ISIS occupation. And he knew better than to enter any of the buildings. The militants had peppered the area with mines and IED’s, a defense against invasion from outside forces. He understood why people wanted to get out of here. If he lived here, he’d do whatever he’d have to do to get himself and his family as far away from this hellhole as quickly as he could.

“Base to Black Beauty,” Zach heard crackle in his ear bud. “How do you hear me? Over.”

“This is Beauty one. I read you loud and clear. Entering heart of city. The search is on. Over.”

The Toyota rolled through the town without notice. Women riding in the back of the truck like cargo was a customary sight in this country. No air assets were capable of finding the terrorist’s house because so much of the city had been destroyed. Only boots on the ground could locate the secret bunker.

They drove past a building which appeared to be heavily guarded.

“This has to be it,” Tony said to Zach. “Only a high ranking official would have this many sentries standing by.”

“Roger, that,” Zach said, and using a transmitter hidden under his burqa, he reported the location and coordinates to an AWAC mission control aircraft hovering thousands of feet above. The spy plane then relayed the information onto a U.S. Reaper drone.

The driver drove the pick-up around the corner, down the street, and waited at a safe distance from the building. It wasn’t long after Zach’s transmission that a Hellfire missile hit the building, taking out the Islamic State commander and all the men guarding him.

“Target is secure,” Zach transmitted. “Black Beauty returning to the barn. Over.”

As the team was attempting to escape, militants in another building who heard the explosion, rushed out into the street. Jumping in front of the truck, they ordered them to stop. Pointing weapons at Mohammed and Kaseem, they yelled, “Get out of the truck.”

Zach nodded to Tony and Juan, and to the terrorist’s surprise, the trio lifted up their burqas and opened fire. All three jihadi’s dropped where they stood. Zach banged on the truck’s roof top. “Let’s move before any more fighters show up.”

The truck sped down the street and came upon a group of militants running toward them. Kaseem slowed the vehicle to a rolling stop, and Mohammed stepped out of the car. Zach and the team readied their weapons, preparing to also take these jihadists out if necessary.

Speaking in Arabic and pointing back up the street, Mohammed said in an excited voice, “Back there. A large explosion. I am taking my family and getting out of the area. I saw two men dressed in black running the other way, down the street. Hurry, you might find them.”

The militants nodded and rushed up toward the explosion. Again wasting no time, the Toyota sped out of town toward the extraction point, miles away.

“WELL DONE,” Masoud said, when the team returned to base. “It was a confirmed kill of Nakil Amadi, chief financier for ISIS. This mission will seriously interrupt their financial network and ability to fund their operation, at least temporarily. This is good for now.”

The burqas lay in a pile on the floor along with some of the munitions they’d taken with them. “We’re out of here,” Zach said. “Glad we could help, but it’s time to go home now.”

Wasting no time, the men got into a car and were driven back to their hotel in Irbil. Zach tried to turn his phone on, but it was dead, as were Tony and Juan’s. Without stopping, he swiftly moved to his room once they reached the hotel. He plugged his phone in to charge while simultaneously grabbing a beer and heading toward the shower. He’d only taken a few steps when he heard his phone buzzing as it populated with incoming texts. He could tell by the quick succession of beeps and buzzes, someone wanted to talk to him badly.

Moving back to the phone he swiped it open. He froze when he saw several messages from Raul. One in particular stood out.

Trouble in Cologne. Arianna attacked. Injured but okay. Contact me ASAP.

Even though it was the middle of the night, he pressed Raul’s number.

“Zach?” came the sleepy reply. “Where are you?”

“What happened? I got your message. What happened to Arianna? Is she okay?”

“Yes, for the most part.”

“What do you mean for the most part? Damnit, Raul. What the hell happened?”

“She was in a refugee site, interviewing migrants, when a group of thugs attacked them. It was pretty much a beat down, and unfortunately, Arianna not only got knocked around, but several men groped her and tried to rape her.”

“What the fuck! Why didn’t you stop them? What the hell were you doing?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean you weren’t there? That’s your job to guard her. Where in the hell were you?”

“Uh, it’s a long story, but someone told authorities I was carrying a weapon, and they pulled me away, claiming I had no permit and was breaking the law. I had to go with them to clear the record. The attack happened when I was getting my weapon permit straightened out.”

“That’s bogus. Who turned you in and why? Anyway where was that little shit, Miller? Why didn’t he protect her?”

“Because he’s useless. He didn’t want to draw his weapon because he was afraid of getting arrested…it’s a long story, but it was a disaster. I’m sorry, Zach. I should have been there. Someone fucked me over. I tried to protest, but they were going to arrest me if I didn’t go with them. I feel terrible. I failed you. I failed Arianna.”

Silence ensued. Zach stood steeped in a cauldron of anger and despair. He thought he’d provided adequate protection for her, but in the end, protection wasn’t there when she needed it. Someone had screwed up big time. It was killing him to think of the hell she’d gone through.

“Are you still there?” Raul asked.

“Where is Arianna right now? Is she okay?”

“In her room sleeping, and she’s pretty banged up, but physically okay. Emotionally…I’m not sure.”

“I’ll be on the first plane out of here. I should be there by morning.”

“She pulled it together and got her first broadcast on the air. If you go to the network website, you can pull it up.” Maybe if he sees the video, he’ll be less shocked when he sees her in person.

“Roger that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He had no more hung up when there was a knock at the door. He opened it to see Tony and Juan standing there.

“I guess you heard,” Tony said. “I got a text from Lisa, telling me something happened.”

Zach nodded and waved them on into his room. He pulled his iPad out of his suitcase and fired it up. “She broadcast a report. Raul seemed to think I should watch it.”

They gathered round while the video loaded.

“Oh, my God,” Zach shouted and jumped out of his chair when Arianna appeared on screen, her eyes black and blue, her face cut and bruised, and lip swollen and cut, too. “Son of a bitch!” He balled his hand into a fist. “Someone’s going to pay for this.”