Chapter Ten

 

 

December 17

Southwest Stockholm, Sweden

 

Justin drew in a deep breath as he came closer to al-Nueimi. The bulletproof vest Justin was wearing underneath his jacket would offer some protection. But he had seen teammates die from bullets going through vests or those small areas where the vest straps connected. If the gunmen were using armor-piercing rounds, his vest was useless.

He looked around for any possible cover, but the intersection was empty. The closest streetlight was about ten paces away. He could make it if the gunmen were poor marksmen. Justin doubted al-Nueimi would surround himself with incompetent gunmen. I hope it doesn’t come to a firefight, but if it does, Carrie has my back.

Justin nodded to himself, and shrugged away the self-doubt that had begun to crystallize at the back of his mind. Snap out of it, Justin. He’s not here to kill you. He wants to talk, yes, and you’ll find out why in a moment.

He peered at al-Nueimi, who was now standing perhaps five, six yards away from the Rover, at the edge of the sidewalk. At that distance, if he and Justin whispered, they would be beyond the gunmen’s earshot.

“Salam alaikum,” Justin greeted al-Nueimi. Peace be with you.

“Alaikum wa salam.'' Peace to you too. Al-Nueimi gave Justin a respectful nod. Al-Nueimi waited until Justin was about four feet away, then said, “I’m glad you trusted me enough to come and talk.”

Justin nodded slowly. “It wasn’t easy.”

“You’re brave, and I like that in a man, whether it’s my friend or my enemy. Now I’m sure you have many questions, but we don’t have a lot of time. You’re wondering why I am on the run and what my plan is.”

“You’re right.”

“This . . . none of this would have happened if my family had been left at peace.” Al-Nueimi gestured around with his thin arm, pointing at the Toyota, then tipped his head toward the Rover.

“Do you want to tell me what—”

“My family, my wife and son, were butchered like dogs—no, worse than dogs.” Al-Nueimi’s voice grew louder and firmer. “They can fight me, and I can take it. But they should have left my family out of this. Now I will go after their families, and I will kill their children. No hesitation, no regrets.”

Justin locked eyes with al-Nueimi. “Is . . . can we do anything to change your mind, to stop whatever you’re planning?”

Al-Nueimi shook his head and offered Justin a grin. “If you can give me back my wife and my son, then yes, I would reconsider. But you can’t do that, can you?”

“You know the answer to that. But I can spare your life.”

“What is my life without my family and honor? Their blood cries out to me for revenge, and I will not ignore their cries. I’d rather die with honor than live with shame.”

Justin nodded. “I respect that feeling. I’d do the same thing if it were my family.”

Al-Nueimi cocked his head. “You would?”

“No doubt about it. But if your mind is fully made up, then what did you want from me?”

Al-Nueimi shrugged. “Does it look like I want or need anything from you or your people? You’ve occupied our land, killed our children, stolen our oil and our riches. Why would I want anything from you?”

Justin held al-Nueimi’s eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought you were different and wanted to save your people more suffering.” Justin nodded toward the gunman. “You don’t want them to die in vain, like the ones at the center?”

Al-Nueimi shook his head. “They didn’t die in vain. They became martyrs for our cause. It’s our right to wage jihad and protect our lands, our families, our people, even if it means our death.”

“I’m not here to be converted, al-Nueimi. If you have nothing else . . .”

“I do. I know all about what you’re trying to do, how you got to the cleric, and what the Russians are after. Take a message to your lackey, that Russian Arkady. He’s not going to stop me. I defeated him once, and I will do it again.”

“I see this is personal for you, because of your family and your dealings with Arkady. But he’s not the one running the show here. Why don’t we, you and I, agree to a deal that will save everybody’s life?”

Al-Nueimi grinned. “You could probably talk a snake out of its skin . . . but it’s not going to work with me. I told you: my son bled to death. I can’t forget that. I will not forget that.”

Justin shrugged. “That’s too bad. Next time we meet, it will not be to talk.” He took a small step backwards.

Al-Nueimi shook his head. “No, but I hope you’re there so you can die with the rest of the infidels.”

Justin stared deep into al-Nueimi’s eyes and backed away slowly.

Al-Nueimi returned the stare and did not move.

Justin kept moving back. His eyes were glued to al-Nueimi’s gunmen. The meeting had not gone sideways, but Justin would not be safe until he had reached the Toyota, and Carrie had given him back his pistol.

He had taken three more steps when one of the gunmen swiftly raised his rifle.

Justin waited no longer. He bolted for the light post, hoping, praying he would reach it before the incoming volley.

“Down, down,” Carrie shouted.

Justin rolled on the ground, as barrages erupted from all sides.

Bullets struck near his feet and arms, but he kept crawling. He was not sure who started the firefight. That was not important. The only thing that mattered at this moment was for him to reach safety.

It was not meant to be.

A ricocheting bullet grazed his left arm, just below the elbow. Justin bit his lip and dashed forward, redoubling his efforts.

A few more rounds hit the ground to his right, so he spun to the left. He was now near the edge of the sidewalk, a few feet away from the light post. A bullet pinged against the metal post, whizzing above his head. Justin dropped his head even lower, then made a last-ditch effort and rolled behind the post.

He made himself smaller as another bullet struck the post. Justin glanced toward the Toyota. Carrie, Vale, and Arkady were all shooting from their positions around the car. Its windshield was shattered, and the front was bullet-ridden.

The assault rifle barrage ceased as suddenly as it had started. Then came an engine revving and the squeal of spinning tires. Justin glanced over his shoulder. The Rover’s driver swerved to the left, completing the three-point turn, and zoomed away. The back window erupted in a spray of glass as a bullet struck it. But the Rover kept speeding away, making a right turn, and disappearing out of sight.

Justin exhaled, then glanced at his bleeding arm. The bullet had gone through, missing the bone and the main basilic artery on the inside part of the arm. He winced at the jolt of pain searing through his arm and the upper part of his body, and cursed the shooter.

Carrie ran toward him and offered Justin her hand. He leaned on her and stood up.

She said, “You’re hit?”

Justin shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s not serious. Nothing a bandage can’t fix.”

“Hmmm, gunshot wound and Band-Aids . . . Let me think about it . . . How about we go with something more efficient?”

Justin shrugged again. “Sure, yes. Now, what happened here?”

“Don’t know. We’ve got to ask Arkady.”

“Let’s go.”

Justin found Arkady arguing with Vale. They were both very animated, like two roosters getting ready for a fight. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

“He needs to listen to orders and stand down,” Vale said.

“If I hadn’t fired, your partner would be dead.” Arkady nodded toward Justin.

“Were you the first one to fire?” Justin asked Arkady.

“Yes, I was.”

“How come?”

“The gunman to the right raised his rifle, aiming to kill you.”

“No, he didn’t,” Vale said. “The gunman saw you jump out of the car and point your gun at them. He was just reacting.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Arkady drew closer to Vale.

Justin stepped in between them. “Arkady, you saw the gunman get ready to fire, so you fired first?”

“Yes, he pointed his rifle at you. Had I not intervened, you’d be dead.” He pointed at Justin’s bullet-pierced arm. “Even with me jumping in, they still got you.”

“So you fired first; they returned fire, correct?”

“Yes, correct.”

Justin nodded. “All right. Now, both of you cool off. We’re one team; we can’t fight against each other. Got it?”

“Yes, got it,” Vale said.

“Arkady?”

He hesitated a moment, then gave Justin a small nod.

“Good, glad we cleared that up. Wait by the Toyota, and then we’ll talk to SAPO.”

Vale and Arkady turned around and left in silence, not looking at each other.

Justin glanced at Carrie. “What did you see?”

“Not much. I was talking to Vale, when Arkady got out of the car and started to shoot at al-Nueimi and his gunmen.”

“Arkady didn’t kill anyone, did he?”

“No. He may have wounded one.”

“Can you tell me if the gunman was the first one to point the rifle?”

Carrie shrugged. “I’m not sure, Justin. I was looking at Vale, then Arkady opened fire. He was the first one to pull the trigger; that’s for sure. But I can’t be certain about the gunman.”

Justin nodded, but the frown did not leave his face.

“Is it important what the gunman did?”

“Yes, it’s vital. Al-Nueimi offered me his protection. He gave me the impression of a man of honor, twisted as that may sound because of his extremist views and ops. So if his gunman intended to kill me, he broke al-Nueimi’s promise, a shameful act in the Arab culture. That tells us a lot about al-Nueimi. But if Arkady provoked them by opening fire, that raises questions about his actions, and definitely doesn’t get us any closer to capturing the sheikh.”

Carrie shrugged. “That’s all I have. Anything good come out of that talk?”

“No, not really. He wanted to tell me that we wouldn’t be able to stop him, no matter what we do. I tried to convince him, but . . .”

“You can’t change a terrorist’s mind with a two-minute talk.”

“I know that, but it was worth the try. He told me this was personal . . . because his family had been killed. It’s something we’re going to explore. Perhaps it could give us a lead, since now we don’t have much.” He glanced in the direction where the Land Rover had disappeared.

“Yes, we’ll do whatever we can.”

“And he said something interesting about the Russians, and Arkady in particular. But we’ll talk more about it when we have time. Now we’ve got to brief SAPO.”

Carrie turned her head toward the Toyota. A group of four men in civilian clothes had circled the car. “Yeah, I’d like to hear it ASAP. Can you tell me if it’s bad news?”

“At the moment, it’s uncertain news, which in a sense makes it worse than bad news.”