Serve in the Shadows Recruitment, page 5
“Nice effort, but not good enough,” said the man.
His eyelids became too heavy, and he struggled to keep them open. Fear coursed through him as the last thing he saw was a tall white man crouching down beside him. His cold eyes stared right at him without blinking, and the scar on his cheek stood out in contrast.
“Nighty night, rabbit,” he said smiling.
Mustafa surrendered to the darkness.
Chapter 9
Ramstein Air Base
Germany
Derek had his last free breakfast in the restaurant at the inn, before going back upstairs to his room. He could get use to flashing his silver room key for payment and tipping generously. In less than an hour, he would be leaving to head to the airfield.
“Ready?” Grant appeared opposite the bed. Derek wasn’t sure if he was developing nerves of steel or becoming comfortable with his delusions. Either way, he wasn’t startled.
“What do I need to do?”
“Grab your pack and things. Leave my phone here, but bring my Sudoku puzzle book,” Grant said, walking toward the door.
“I can never do those puzzles. They mostly irritate me!”
“That’s why I am the smart one.” A big smile covered his face. Death held no punches apparently.
Grant led the way down the hall of the seventh floor, past the lounge common area stopping in front of a door, with a sign “Janitorial Supplies.”
“Go in. This door should be unlocked.”
“Okay, this isn’t strange at all ….” Derek quickly looked around, to find out that he was the only person on this floor. He has yet to have seen anyone else up here. Reaching out, he turned the handle, and the door opened into a small four by ten room full of cleaning supplies.
“Wow, what a shocker,” Derek said dryly.
“Don’t be a dumbass. Move to the back and take down the paper towels off the shelf.”
Derek felt that he was humoring his brother, and he followed the instructions quickly. Against the wall, was an old gray fuse panel, with a few stickers labeled as “Hall Lights and Outlets.”
“Open it up,” Grant instructed.
Expecting fuses or breaker panels, Derek was shocked to see a stainless steel, an alphanumeric keypad, and display.
“Now, grab the Sudoku puzzle book.”
Derek dropped his pack and pulled it out.
“Turn to the page that corresponds to today’s date. Langley time.”
“Got it,” Derek said.
“Bottom right puzzle, go to the number in the bottom right corner. Add that number to today’s date, then go to that page.”
Sudoku Puzzles were a logic-based grid in which players inserted the numbers one to nine, into a grid consisting of nine squares. The numbers never repeated per line, and some had already been filled in to help start the puzzle.
Quickly flipping to page 34, Derek then looked up at Grant. “Now what?” There were six different puzzles on that page.
“Always bottom right puzzle, enter the numbers that are already filled in, on the keypad in order, then push ‘enter’.”
It was a long thirty-six number string. Derek took his time to ensure the numbers were entered correctly, and double checked before pushing “enter”.
With a muffled series of clicks, the whole back section of wall in the supply closet swung open. Inside was another room about the same size of the supply room. However, instead of cleaning supplies on the shelves were everything that a Ranger could wish for. Excited, Derek looked around.
On the left, were stacks of various ammunitions. The next shelf displayed four racks of handguns and silencers. On the right, there were full sets of tactical gear, and various clothing items. There also was a whole floor to ceiling shelf unit of electronic surveillance gear, from small parabolic microphones to various listening devices and pinhole cameras. It was the back-wall unit that held his attention the most.
Various amount of cash neatly piled up filled up four whole shelves. Euros, US dollars, Canadian currency, English pounds, and Swiss francs.
“Welcome to Clandestine Services, Derek! Only take what you need, and there is a clipboard on the side. Normally, we would write down inventory taken out, but we are going to skip that part today.”
The kid in a candy store feeling still had not left Derek. Starting with the handguns, he scanned them all: .40 S&W, .45 ACP, .357 Sig, .22 LR, and Glock 17 and 19 models.
Feeling most comfortable with the Glock 17, he chose one and worked the action. It was smooth and well maintained. He quickly looked down at the barrel to find threading for a silencer, which also ended up in the backpack. As a backup weapon, Derek pondered over the choices and went with the Glock 19 GEN 4. It was slightly smaller than the 17 models and had about half an inch less on the barrel and a slightly shorter pistol grip. The Glock 19 was an excellent backup weapon and slightly easier to conceal, and this model had the new grips. Sharing ammunition for both, made the choice fairly easy to decide. Four cases of ammo went into the pack as well.
A concealed shoulder holster and two handsets almost completed the shopping spree.
“Grab some cash as well. You will need it,” Grant said.
“How much?” Derek walked over and roughly figured out that there was close to a million dollars in various currencies just sitting there.
“You may need to bribe someone or rent a jet. Plan for the worst. I would figure three hundred thousand euros and one hundred thousand in American.”
Derek was somewhat dumbfounded that that much currency was now his. As an E-8 master sergeant, he made about $55,000 per year, slightly more when overseas on operations. Stuffing it into his pack, he pushed the weight upward of forty-five pounds. It was a very manageable weight, that would not slow him down too much.
There was no way he could go through customs to any country now.
“There are resupply stations like this one all over the world. None of this is official. Sometimes, when on operations, we may need to buy some loyalty or information. There is a darker side to Clandestine Services, and most of this room will be used at one point or another.”
Derek heard a double beeping noise and looked down at his watch. “Time to go. The driver will be out front in a minute.”
“Just press “Zero Zero” on the keypad and everything locks up.”
Doing just that, Derek watched the hidden door silently swing shut, and heard the locking mechanisms engage. Smiling to himself and feeling a little like a super spy, Derek went downstairs.
*****
The golf cart pulled up to a Gulfstream II, and waiting at the bottom of the ramp stood Arnott. He had a clipboard with some paperwork on it, waiting for Derek.
“Langley sent over a few legal paperwork. Grant had left a will and policy with us, and you are the sole beneficiary. There was a life insurance policy, and a few other items. There is a condo in his name, outside Washington, which is now yours.”
Derek looked down at the paperwork and was slightly amazed. Having lived in barracks and on army bases for the last fifteen years, he never had much wealth. All this information appeared slightly overwhelming. Then again, he had half a million dollars in cash in his backpack. Looking over the paperwork, he signed them and handed them back.
“All the paperwork, and death certificate will be sent to you later on.”
“Thank you very much for your help and assistance, Mr. Arnott. This is greatly appreciated.”
“No problem. Here is my card. If you have any problems, give me a call. Your brother was a good man.” He handed over a card, with his cell phone number written on the back. “Have a good flight and enjoy your traveling with your brother.”
If he only knew.
The CIA officer stepped into the golf cart and with a wave goodbye, drove away.
Derek went up the short stairs with his backpack over one shoulder. The jet was several steps above traveling around in a Hercules, and he could get used to this rather quickly.
As he buckled in and prepared for the flight, Derek went over the next part of this plan. He needed to make sure this went perfectly. It was time to get to work.
Chapter 10
Three men dressed in track pants and work out shirts got out of the car and started looking around the Athletic Center. They all seemed to be in excellent shape, and they moved with a determined purpose. Several other cars were already parked in the area, and a few people were out on the field warming up. One of the men went inside the buildings, and another went around the back. The third man started looking around the parking lot, and every now and then he glanced down at a tablet he was carrying. A few minutes later, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handheld walkie. “Report.”
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
“The signal was stronger on the north end of the parking lot. Check cars and the area.”
The one came out of the building, and the other man came around the side and met up in the parking lot. Without being too obvious, they began searching and looking inside vehicles. A brass casing turned up after few minutes work, while checking the surrounding ditch of the parking lot.
“Looks like someone was lying prone in the ditch on the north side and took a shot,” said one of the men. He took out a plastic bag and placed the casing inside. “No sign of blood.”
“Phone!”
They all gathered around and found a cell phone still laying on the side other building. It was still powered up and in good shape.
The man with the tablet took the phone and glanced at the screen and flipped through the call history. It matched the signal on the tablet, and the number traced.
“This is the phone we were looking for; our objective is no longer here. Time to go, and I have to report.”
Reaching into the glove box, he pulled out a satellite phone, flipped the antenna up, and pressed a few buttons.
“It looks like we were too late,” said the one man into the phone. “I believe he was taken recently. We are heading back.” After getting into the car, they drove off quickly.
*****
Mustafa’s head was pounding, and he could barely open his eyes. He knew he was lying down but couldn’t tell anything else.
“Ahh … glad to see you are awake.”
Cold fear began to override a headache. It was one voice he did not want to hear again.
The General.
“We were worried about you when you ran off like that. We have some unfinished business.”
Opening his eyes, a bit, Mustafa could see the General standing in the doorway of this small room. Mustafa was lying on an old army cot, and a small woman knelt down beside him. She reached out and grabbed Mustafa’s arm with her strong, latex-gloved hands and twisted, so his palm was up.
The needle going into his arm sent waves of fire and pain coursing up his veins. The burning became quickly replaced by euphoria as the drugs kicked in.
“Enjoy the heroin. I’ve heard it’s very nice.” With a laugh, the General and the woman left the small room. The sound of a bolt locking the door was followed by their footsteps as they walked away.
Mustafa felt his heart rate slow down, and a feeling of peace enveloped him. He was almost floating on the cot, and despite the situation, he was the most relaxed he has been in weeks. Mustafa knew he should be panicking and worry about his family and how to get out of here, but he just didn’t care right now. Slowly his worries floated away.
Chapter 11
Cairo International Airport
Cairo, Egypt
The Gulfstream II taxied smoothly off the runway. Instead of pulling up at the terminal, it continued down to the private airstrips and pulled into a hanger. Doors the size of several homes closed behind the jet, as it came to a stop.
One of the pilots came out and opened a small closet door while turning to Derek and said, “You have been pre-cleared for customs.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Sorry to hear about your brother.” The pilot shook his hand, and then opened the door and lowered the stairs. Shouldering his pack, Derek descended and easily went through the airport.
Out front was a line of taxi cabs, limo services, and many other sights. Vendor stalls provided tourists with much-needed t-shirts, water, and beer. The horns from the cars and traffic were like a symphony of chaos. Derek looked a second to confirm he was seeing a donkey pulling a cart, unloading a passenger, and the luggage. Cairo seemed to be a crossroads of sorts.
“Grab a taxi and head to the Private Jet Charter Services. It is in the north part of the city, on a private airstrip.” Grant appeared at Derek’s side.
“Are you sure no one can see you?” Derek whispered.
“As far as I know.” Grant waved his hand in front of an older couple waiting for a ride, with no effect.
Derek walked up to the next taxi in line and climbed inside. He placed his pack beside him, as he could not afford to leave it elsewhere.
“Private Jet Charter Services, please.”
Without a word, the driver just stepped on it, to make the break in traffic. Merging onto the highway was a nerve-racking experience, coming close enough to take the dust off the back end of a truck. The best part of this ride was the short duration. Within ten minutes, they stopped at the front entrance of the Jet Charter.
Derek peeled off twenty euros for a three-euro fare, and said, “Keep the change.”
Grant appeared quickly beside him.
“Okay, before you go in, go get a newspaper from the stand out front.” Grant pointed to a row of newspaper stands, and real estate listing advertisements.
The Daily News Egypt paper stand yielded a copy, with today’s date.
“When you go in, go to the counter, and place the newspaper on it, with your left hand covering it. And tell him, that you are afraid to fly. Got it?” Grant said.
Derek nodded and walked in. Just leaving in front was an older couple, looking at pamphlets and brochures.
Pack over his right shoulder, Derek carried the newspaper in his left hand and followed the instructions.
“Hi there. Welcome to the Charter Services. How can I help you?” The gentleman behind the counter was in his late sixties and had wispy white hair. Round glasses that reminded Derek of the 1960’s, were perched on top of his head.
Laying the folded-up newspaper on the counter with his left hand on top, Derek said, “Not too sure if you can. I am afraid to fly.”
“We can help you with that no problem, sir, if you would come with me.”
The man behind the counter lifted up the barrier and led Derek into the back office.
Closing the door, he looked at Derek, frowning slightly.
“New at this? You are not familiar.”
“Recently promoted, but not new,” Derek said.
The man raised his hand and rubbed his face. Taking a big sigh, he said, “Look, the money is good that your government pays, but I am pushing my luck too many times. I …” he trailed off.
Not liking where this was going, Grant turned to Derek, and said, “We need him to get you out of the country. Offer him double the normal fee!”
“I understand. I can double your fee for this time only, in cash. I need to be somewhere by morning.” Derek reached for his pack.
“I am very close to retiring, and I want to be alive to spend it with my family,” he started. “I still have bullet holes in one plane from the last job. It was too close.”
Derek was fairly sure that the man was rattled still from the previous mission, whatever it was.
“Are you sure? I can pay you cash right now.”
“I am very sorry, but I can’t risk it anymore,” he held the office door open for Derek. “Make sure your Company knows I am out of business in that regard.”
“I understand. Good luck.”
Standing outside of the building, Grant turned to Derek. “You are going to have to ditch the weapons and electronics, deal with all the money, and fly commercial.”
“I never give up, big brother,” Derek said smiling. “I have a backup plan, so don’t panic.”
Just then, a family of four got out of a taxi and started to head inside. Holding the door for them, Derek waved to the driver to hold up.
“Trust me.”
With a sigh, Grant disappeared as Derek climbed into the cab. Glancing at the license for his name, he said, “Hi, Khaled, first somewhere for lunch you think is best, then stop two isn’t too far.”
“No problem, Boss!” The taxi sped off.
Inside the building, the man behind the counter lowered his glasses down his nose, and peered out the window. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message quickly. Turning to the family in front of him, he said, “Hi there, welcome to the Charter Services, how can I help you?”
*****
“Master Sergeant Derek Lawson 75th Ranger Unit, requesting a visit to Base Quartermaster.”
The 182nd Paratrooper Brigade for the Egyptian Army had its training grounds attached to the Cairo International Airport. Access to the base was guarded by a barrier gate with two armed guards out front. As the taxi had pulled up, Derek rolled down his window and handed over his military ID to the guard at his window. The guard looked at the ID, then back at Derek a few times. The second guard stood back with his rifle slung at the ready, eyes not leaving the taxi occupants.
Taking his ID, the first guard went back to his little shack and picked up a phone. A few minutes later, he came out and said, “First Warrant Officer Gaaber will meet you out front of his office.”
Handing back the ID, the guard gave instructions to the taxi driver, and the barrier was lifted. “Do not wander around unescorted, Master Sergeant, and welcome to the 182nd.”
Half the base was taken over by runways, a control tower, and four massive hangers. The east side housed a few warehouses and buildings and a barracks with a parade ground out front. The taxi drove straight up to the first warehouse with a small blue office attached to the outside.
