IRBIL, IRAQ CAPITOL OF KURDISTAN

Ready to risk our lives for our country,” Juan mused, as he, Zach, and Tony sat dining at the luxurious Rotana Hotel in downtown Irbil. “Wasn’t that how the COS phrased it?”

Tony nodded a thank you as the waiter refilled his wine glass. “That’s what she said, but we do that every time we take on one of these missions. Wonder what makes this one any different.”

“Maybe nothing.” Zach cut into a braised lamb chop and took a bite of the savory meat, followed by a sip of Cabernet. “Maybe she was just being melodramatic.”

Juan looked puzzled. “Melodramatic? Everything’s melodramatic in our line of work if you want to call life and death matters melodramatic.”

Zach pushed his plate away and waved the waiter off when he attempted to refill his drink. “I sense there is more at stake on this op than normal. What I can’t decide is, does that mean there’s more at stake for us personally, or more at stake for the Agency? We could be the sacrificial lambs if the Agency has over promised a certain result, but fails to deliver.”

“Meaning?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, meaning what?” Juan wanted to know.

“Meaning they’re going to send us into the eye of the storm. They want something that’s big and can’t get it under the current rules of engagement.”

Both men sat there and stared at Zach pondering the weight of his remarks.

“Anyone want out, say so. I predict this is going to be one of our most dangerous missions yet. One where the stakes are really high.” He waved the waiter over and asked for the check.

No one spoke, nor gave any indication they wanted out.

“Well, then drink up, fellas,” Zach said, raising his glass to them. “All will become clear tomorrow. Relax and enjoy yourself tonight. This will be our last “normal” evening for a while.”

A NEW Kurdish driver arrived the next morning to take the team to the OGA station on the outskirts of town.

“Hopefully, this guy isn’t from the Indy 500 school of driving,” Juan whispered to Zach. “Having thirty AK’s pointed at your head will cause your heart to do a triple lutz every time.”

The driver, overhearing, said, “No worries, my friend. I heard about what happened yesterday. That driver was new and had no experience. Trust me. I’ll get you through. No problem.”

Juan patted him on the back. “You’re a good man, buddy. Confidence. That’s what I like to hear.”

After entering the base without incident, the group made their way to the CIA headquarters where the chief of station was waiting.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Masoud’s just coming in now so grab a cup of coffee, and we’ll begin our briefing.”

“Sabah alkhyr,” Masoud said. “Good morning. I see we didn’t scare you off.”

“If we scared that easily, we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Zach said, irritated that the guy would think they might be so easily spooked. He also hated the waiting around. He was there, ready to go, and wanted to get the briefing over so they could get moving.

“Yeah, so let us hear the details of this hair-raising op you’re about to send us on,” Juan added.

“Right away. Have a seat, and let’s get started.” The COS flipped on a computer and a map with no names on it appeared on the screen. Zach knew the region well even without names, so it was clear, Syria was their target—Raqqa to be specific, the de facto capital of ISIS.

“The rules of engagement under the current administration have changed,” Lauren began. “Because of that, the Agency’s paramilitary units have become vitally important in the region, but success for containing ISIS depends on good intel and targeting information.

“Officially the US has no boots on the ground. Nonetheless, they have given us an annual budget of high nine figures to create a ‘secret army’ which we can deploy on missions ranging from hostage rescue to deep-penetration recon behind enemy lines, assassinations and the like,” she said waving her hand around. “You know the drill. You’ve been covert specialists for years. But especially now, this administration wants mega PD, plausible deniability. They’re terrified of the optics caused by an op gone wrong and want to be able to distance themselves should the need arise.”

“Ha!” Tony chirped in. “But take all the credit, when things go well. Yep, we know the drill. We take all the risk. They get all the glory.”

A low chuckle rippled around the room.

Masoud stepped up. “You Americans are funny people, and your president is an interesting man, but we are grateful for your help. We’ll leave the politics to you. Now, let me explain the mission.”

He pressed a key on the computer, and it populated the map with names. Just as Zach thought. Raqqa seemed to be their prime target.

“Mmm mmm!” Juan moaned. “Right in the heart of ISIS country. Are we going into Raqqa with just little ol’ me and my two friends here, or do you have some help for us boys? People are losing their heads these days, and I’d like to keep mine if it’s okay with you.”

“And mine, too,” Masoud said. “Rest assured, we have plenty of help for you. The next image to appear on the screen was of a burqa, the long, loose garment worn by Muslim women covering the whole body from head to feet. “Burqa,” Masoud said, “your new best friend.”

Everyone looked at him with a puzzled look on their face.

“Burqas,” Masoud continued, “are going to be playing a vital part in the mission you’re about to undertake. We’re calling this mission, operation ‘desert ghosts’. Juan you mentioned beheadings. Well, you’ll be happy to know we’re going after Jihadi Joe who we believe is the executioner seen in the most recent beheading videos.”

Juan slapped the table. “Yeah, baby. Let me at him!”

Zach frowned. “Don’t get too excited, Juan. Everyone wants this guy, but I’m sure he’s well-protected. You might get him, but his protectors might get you in the process, and as you said, I’m not ready to lose my head over this.”

“Yes, that sums it up pretty well,” Masoud replied. “We have reliable intel about who this guy is and where he is, but he is well-protected. It’s not an easy task getting close enough to take him out. That’s where the burqa comes in.”

He advanced to the next slide, and a fighter, covered from head to toe in a camouflaged garment, appeared on the screen. “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the ‘combat burqa’.”

Everyone leaned forward in their seats, curious about what they saw on the screen.

Masoud continued. “We can thank our British friends for this. Their PM dedicated close to a million pounds in the development of this suit. It reflects infrared and disrupts the human signature, so the enemy can’t see us on their radar allowing us to get quite close to their strongholds undetected.”

Tony let out a long, low whistle. “Frickin’ unbelievable.”

“Very much so,” Masoud agreed. “I’ve personally tested it, so before you get too excited, however, I have to tell you, it’s difficult to wear. It’s heavy, and you’re in the desert so it’s hot, but when you’re within radar range, it’s a life-saver. It will allow you to complete your mission undetected.”

He snapped off the computer and looked at the men. “So what do you think? Are you up to the challenge of going after one of the world’s most hated men?”

No one spoke. A shroud of seriousness settled across the room as the weight of the possible deadly consequences of this mission set in.

“We need a minute to talk this over,” Zach said, as he looked at his two teammates. He motioned toward the door. “Let’s take a walk.” They left the building and strolled around the perimeter. “So, guys, what do you think? I need to know your true feelings about this mission.”

Juan blew out a long breath of air. “This is big. Who doesn’t want to get this guy, but man, if we fail, they’ll literally take our heads. We’re not coming home alive or in one piece.”

Tony nodded. “But if this burqa suit is as good as they say it is, the chance for success on this mission is really high, and I’d love to nail that son-of-a-bitch.”

Zach stopped walking and faced both men. “Right on both counts. Getting this guy would be primo, but the risk is primo too, so if you need time to think about this, I understand.”

“What do you think?” Tony asked, looking at Zach. “Are you in?”

Zach started to answer when he felt his phone vibrate. He looked down at the message. It was from Arianna. What piss-poor timing or maybe it was perfect timing. These kinds of decisions were always easy to make before. There was never anyone of importance waiting for him back home. It was different now, his having someone he loved dearly waiting for him, and it added to the gravity of the situation. Also, Tony was a married man now. All three men were in committed, serious relationships so there was more riding on the missions than ever before.

He looked down at his phone and typed a period in the message box and hit send, sending a virtually empty reply back. It was a first, a small crack in the veneer of his impenetrable emotions which he never allowed to cloud his judgement or intrude on his thoughts when he was on a mission.

In the end, one thing he knew for sure was that the love for this line of work seemed to be hard-wired in his DNA. His desire to serve his country against the unspeakable things he’d seen done in the name of jihad couldn’t be shut off.

He looked back at his teammates, and said, “I’m in.”

The three of them bumped fists, and Tony said, “Well, all right, then. Let’s do this.”

Three new Kurdish fighters, Heval Ziryan, Heval Toshk, and Heval Jwan, walked back into the conference room.

“Where’s the dressing room?” Heval Jwan asked. “Bring on my burqa. I’m a size ten.”