Serve in the Shadows Recruitment, page 6
Warrant Officer Gaaber was standing outside, dressed in a pale, sand-colored camouflage combat uniform. He stood approximately six feet tall and was slim built with white hair contrasting against his darker skin. Despite being close to retirement age, he stood tall with shoulders back and hands casually clasped behind his back, waiting.
Stepping out of the taxi, Derek grabbed his pack and paid the driver.
“Derek Lawson, pleased to meet you.” Derek shook his hand.
“Sharif Gaaber, you as well,” he replied. “How can I help you out?”
“I have a few problems, that I hope you can help me out with.”
Despite being in different armies and roles, the rank of master sergeant was very similar to that of first warrant officer. It only took a second of seeing each other to realize their similarities and recognize a comrade in arms.
“Come on into my office, and we can talk in private.”
The QM’s office was attached to a massive warehouse. There were several desks with monitors inside. Rows of filing cabinets lined the far wall, and a long twenty-foot dry erase board above it was filled with numbers, requisitions, and dates. A few younger soldiers were filing paperwork and working on the computers. The QM’s actual office took over the corner of the large room, and the blinds were down, so that they could have some privacy when the door closed.
“Coffee?” he asked, pointing to a small table with a coffee pot and mugs. “It’s hot and black. I can’t say much for the taste though.”
“Sure, that would be great.”
The warrant officer poured two cups, and handed one mug to Derek.
“What kind of problems do you have, that I can help with? You are taking a big risk in coming here. My government is not the friendliest at times.” Taking a sip, he placed his mug on the desk.
Derek took a deep breath, unsure where to begin.
“That bad, is it?” the warrant officer took another sip of his coffee and leaned back. “Start at the beginning, it’s a very good place to start.”
With a little chuckle, Derek began, “Roger that. My brother passed away recently, and I have intel on the possible location of the men responsible, and my brother left me sensitive information that I need to act on very soon. I can’t travel by ordinary means and must stay under the radar.”
Taking a sip of the coffee, Derek realized there was no way he could mention still seeing and talking to Grant. But he wouldn’t lie either, not to a fellow soldier. If he could help avoid it.
“I know the quartermaster of the 75th Ranger Unit. They are the only reason the units’ function. One of the best problems and logistic specialists out there, and a good friend.”
A slight understanding flickered through the quartermaster’s eyes, “Where is it you have to go? And I would imagine this is not sanctioned?” he asked, with a quick glance at Derek’s backpack.
“Just outside Sana’a in Yemen. And this is off the books.”
Sharif drummed his fingers on the desktop while thinking.
“Stay here for a few minutes, while I see what I can do. Help yourself with more coffee if you like.” He quickly stood up and left the office, closing the door behind him.
Grant showed up behind the recently vacated desk and said, “Do you know what you are doing? Trust me, you don’t want to end up in an Egyptian jail …”
“They would have already taken me in if that was their intentions. Taking a little risk, but if he can help, I think he will.” Derek took another sip of the coffee. It wasn’t that bad actually, much stronger than he was used to. It was hot and black. Two prerequisites to qualify as coffee in his books.
“Trusting the CIA networks seems dangerous since they are the ones that failed and led to you dying.”
“Hard to argue with that one,” Grant said, sitting down in the chair behind the desk.
“Okay, Grant, time to spill the beans. Who killed you? And where are we going?”
Taking a big breath Grant looked nervous and looked around the office.
“First, I am not sure why I know certain things, and can’t remember others. There seems to be no sense to it. I remember getting information from Ymir on the location of his son, and who hired them. I remember my partner pulling his gun on me.” Grant stared at the desk. Reliving the moment that he died made him quiet and his voice was barely above a whisper. “After that, it was confusing for a while, it’s like trying to remember a dream you had. I have vague images but can’t remember any specifics.”
“How did you find me in Afghanistan in time to give me a warning?” Derek stared down into his coffee cup, trying to understand.
“I just knew you were in danger. I had to focus and think about being with you, and all of the sudden, I was there. It is difficult to remain in one spot and interact, I have to concentrate and work at it. Although, I seem to be getting better at it with practice, and it now requires less effort.”
“Who is your partner and why would he shoot you?” Derek asked, leaning forward. This was the real part that he could deal with and with some luck, resolve.
“Senior Officer Dan Woodhill, Clandestine Services. I only worked with him for over six weeks in Sudan, and Ymir identified him as the guy who hired his son.”
“And where are we going exactly?”
Grant smiled at Derek. “Sana’a, the capital city of Yemen. There are a few operatives working there, and they may have knowledge of Mustafa’s location. He has vital information on what their plot is and who is behind a forthcoming attack. And … you have company we will talk later.”
Grant disappeared at the same time the door to the office opened.
Holding a folder under left arm, Gaaber leaned inside.
“Quick question for you, Sergeant. Your quartermaster at the 75th, what is his name?”
Derek smiled a little bit, “Her name is Warrant Officer Terresa Lopes, and a woman I wouldn’t offend even if I were paid to!”
Sharif laughed. “She did say you were most polite and very respectful. And she mentioned any help you needed she would be most grateful.” Opening up the folder, he said, “I have a plan, and I will put some finishing touches on it soon. In the meantime, I have thirty new troops that need to repack and practice safety checks on one hundred ‘chutes before dinner. Maybe with some Ranger direction and assistance, we can be done in time?”
Standing up Derek shook his hand, “As long as I am here, I am ready to help out and work.”
“Sounds good. Leave your stuff here, I will lock it up. Let’s get started.”
Chapter 12
CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia
The Assistant Deputy of the Directorate of Operations (ADDO) serves as the clandestine arm of the Central Intelligence Agency and he evaluates clandestine operations and reports directly to the Deputy.
John Hubble had risen through the ranks of the CIA for the last thirty-two years. He started out in the legal department as an intern straight from law school, and after several years of hard work, he went overseas, working out of various embassies with the station chief and agents in the field. John’s critical intelligence, which he gained by working in different countries, had helped him rise through the CIA ranks. After working there for almost thirty years, he still remained a shining star in the intelligence community.
John’s average height, and nondescript features made him blend in well, especially during clandestine operations. However, when he was at work, his demeanor changed, and those who thought his southern drawl was a sign of leisureliness, soon found they were mistaken. He seemed to never miss anything with his piercing gaze, and his memory was legendary. As many could testify, you definitely did not want to get involved in any card games with him, for with his skill and ability at reading people, you would be soon penniless.
Sitting at the head of the conference table, John looked around at the four others sitting to his sides.
“Latest update from Seoul?” he asked to the table.
One man opened a folder and read, “Station Chief Matthews – Number of people seeking asylum with ‘critical’ knowledge of North Korea has risen to ten per day at the embassy. With rising tensions against North Korea, that number is expected to rise dramatically. Nothing of note.”
“Update on Grant Lawson?” John asked. He did not like this part of the job and knowing Lawson, made this part extremely difficult.
“Yes, sir.” The lone female seated at the table, opened one of her folders. “Report from Arnott – Mr. Grant Lawson’s remains have been positively identified by an immediate family member, Derek Lawson. At family request, remains have been cremated in Germany, and have been secured with Derek Lawson. They were transported to Cairo Egypt to begin travel vacation, to places they would have like to have gone together, on his brother’s behalf.”
She opened another folder and started reading, “No updates on demise and no –.”
“Excuse me, get me the DoD file on Grant Lawson,” the Deputy interrupted. His assistant stood and left the room quickly. Turning to another, he said, “Get me the report from Ramstein, Germany, supply operations dated last night.” Another person got up and left the room just as quickly.
Within a few minutes, both had returned to the conference room. Looking at both report and file, John Hubble raised his eyebrows, in surprise.
“Report from supply operations – Ramstein resupply station, unlogged withdrawal (see materials report attached) restocked and systems check. All Green. No sign of unauthorized entry.”
All Green, system codes correctly entered, first attempt, no sign of forced entry, not compromised.
A quick glance at the guest list on the secure floor showed only one person, Derek Lawson, signed in and accompanied by Chris Arnott.
A red flag shot up for the assistant deputy. Arnott was not authorized for withdrawal from the supply, and to the best of his knowledge, Arnott had no idea it was even there. Arnott, while skilled and very good at his job, had no clue of clandestine operations and certainly, was not trained nor taught about the resupply caches scattered across the globe, let alone their locations.
John opened Grant Lawsons’ file, already marked “Inactive” across the front. The first page recently inserted, the autopsy report from the medical examiner in Ramstein, Germany. After a quick look through the file, John Hubble looked up around the room.
“Call the Station Chief in Cairo. I wish to talk with Derek Lawson, so have him brought in quickly. Have officer Arnott patched through to my office. Immediately.”
Closing the files, John rubbed his eyes and stood. Two of his assistants had gathered their paperwork and left quickly. Looking at those remaining he said, “Pull up all the casework on Lawson’s last operation and current field team reports.”
Looking around at the others, “Any word on Senior Officer Dan Woodhill’s location, dead or alive?”
Blank stares around the room.
This was going to be a long day.
Chapter 13
Mustafa lay on the cot, sweating profusely. Pain racked his body and the slightest noise made his head pound with the worst migraine he ever felt. Tremors started wracking his body, and the approaching footsteps from the hall made him moan.
“No more …”
The door opened and the same small woman entered the room. The stale sweat and urine smell made her nose crinkle up in disgust. The general stood in the doorway, wearing a different suit, but looking much the same.
“Double the dosage,” he told the woman. “And don’t worry, Mustafa. It will all be over soon.”
She reached out and bared his arm upward with a twisting of his wrist. Barely feeling the needle going in, Mustafa could only continue to moan in denial.
A new wave of euphoria burned through Mustafa, making the pain and headache recede.
He whispered, “I am going to kill you.”
The general laughed, “Highly doubt it in your condition. See you in the morning. You have a big day ahead!”
They both left the room to the sound of the bolt being engaged on the door. Mustafa laid his head down and let the drugs drift him away from this place, even if only for a few hours.
*****
Sitting down at his desk, John Hubble pulled up the report from the Ops team. They were sent to Yemen to extract Mustafa Hatala while tracing a cell signal. Despite their promptness, it appeared they were too late from the evidence found at the scene. Two items that drew the most attention - the phone call from the station chief in Cairo and the phone call he received.
The current location of Derek Lawson was unknown. However, it seemed he had tried to contact a CIA asset in the area for extraction. The approach and contact codes to use the asset were correct, but they were refused. The last extraction rattled the pilot, and wished to retire from the arrangement. The station chief for that area would have to look for and set up a deal with another small company. Looking through Grant Lawson’s file, as he thought, the deputy found that he was attached to the old station Chief in Cairo over six years ago.
Writing down on his ever-present notepad, he made a few points. Lawson would have had access to the resupply station in Germany. Lawson would have known worked assets in the Cairo region, from him previous assignment. With Lawson’s death, his brother was now acting like an activated sleeper agent from the Cold War. God damn it! This made no sense.
Looking on screen, he pulled up the autopsy report and viewed the attached pictures. Without a doubt, Grant Lawson was deceased and had been cremated.
The only conclusion he could come up with was that Grant had previously trained Derek, to … to do what? Leaning over, John picked up the military file of Master Sergeant Derek Lawson.
Top in his class at Airborne School in Fort Benning, and also top in his class for Ranger Assessment and Selection Program (RASP). Two completed tours in Iraq and Afghanistan then enrolled in Ranger School. After the enrolement, his file had been heavily redacted, and any subsequent tours or missions had not been listed. The Assistant Deputy knew these tours and assignments would never be brought to the light of day. However, the medals and citations awards still filled up three pages for Master Sergeant Derek Lawson. That would be about as much recognition as the military would give him, with most Ops being classified. With the rapid rise in rank and enough medals to fill the dress jackets of three men, John was fairly confident that Derek Lawson could be an ideal recruitment poster for the army.
Having known Grant for over ten years, even prior to assuming the deputy position, John found it extremely hard to believe he would have turned traitor or ended up working for another government organization.
The chime of an incoming email drew his attention away from the paperwork. A quick look showed it to be directly from the station chief in Cairo. After opening the email and reading it quickly, his jaw almost hit the floor.
You’ve got to be kidding me …
Chapter 14
Beep. Beep.
Glancing down at his wristwatch, Derek turned off the alarm. T-minus six zero minutes. Reaching down slipping his oxygen mask, he made the tightening adjustments. Checking the seal, he found it was good as it could be with a few weeks of beard scruff. Turning on the oxygen, Derek leaned back in his seat and looked around.
The A400M Egyptian Military Transport had twelve skids of supplies tied down through the cargo hold, with rows of seating on the exterior walls neatly folded upright. While the droning of the engines was constant over the noise canceling headphones, it was half the noise volume of the Hercules transports he was used to. This newer craft seemed luxurious in comparison.
After an afternoon of packing parachutes with some troops, Derek then went with Warrant Officer Gaaber to the senior non-commission officer (NCO) mess for dinner. After they had both finished and were sitting back sipping another coffee, Sharif pulled out a flight plan and slid it over the table to Derek.
“There is one transport flight leaving tonight for Mumbai, direct. However, it will be over the southern part of Yemen, about twenty miles from your destination. You should be able to land within a mile. I wouldn’t recommend any closer.”
Nodding, Derek looked at the flight path. It would be perfect.
“In the Ranger Unit, we have an Orphan and Widows’ Fund. Guys would chip in what they could afford to help out those that need it. The quartermaster hands out the money on our behalf. Do you guys have something similar?”
Nodding in agreement, Gaaber folded up the paper and tucked it away.
Reaching down into his side pocket, Derek pulled out a small bag and slid it across the table.
“This is an anonymous contribution. There may be a little extra in there to upgrade the coffee in your office,” he said with a slight smile.
Not many things could shock the warrant officer, but looking at one hundred thousand euro’s certainly qualified to do that.
“This will be faithfully applied, as your charity knows no bounds,” he said, reaching over to shake his hand. His eyes were still slightly widened, “Let’s go and get you outfitted for tonight. Wheel’s up in two hours.”
Beep. Beep.
The five-minute warning alarm sounded. As Derek stood up to begin a secondary equipment check, the cargo holds lights turned off, and the tactical red-light system turned on. The red lights, which could be easily mistaken for tail-markers once the doors opened, helped his eyes adjust much quicker to the outside.
Attaching his backpack to the straps with H-harness, he gave it a solid tug. The backpack was about twenty pounds lighter than what he was used to. He would have to make a few adjustments while in free fall.
“No one leaves my deck until you are double checked!” someone said in a gruff and heavily accented voice.
