The Panther

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX


We returned to the tower, and Brenner called Zamo down from the mafraj and told him what was happening.

Brenner said, “It’s your decision if you want to stay here and cover Buck and Chet or come with us to Marib.”

Zamo didn’t agonize much over his decision and replied, “I work for you.” He also reminded Brenner, “I don’t get paid to make decisions.”

Brenner did get paid to make decisions, and he said to Zamo, “You’ll come with us.”

I suggested, “Let’s get moving.”

We gathered up what we needed, which all fit into our overnight bags, and we left everything else for the Bedouin, including my socks and underwear.

Kate slipped her balto over her clothes, and we went down to the livestock and excrement level and built a small bonfire of passports and crumpled magazine pages, which Zamo lit with a match from his field survival kit. We made sure everything burned, then we went out into the fading sunlight of the courtyard.

The Bedouin were still sitting and squatting along the wall, probably thinking about their approaching sundown prayers, and a new recipe for goat.

Kate covered her face with her hijab, and Brenner, in his limited Arabic, seemed to be thanking our hosts for their hospitality. The Bedouin remained sitting as they all said, “As-salaam alaikum.”

Brenner responded with, “Wa alaikum as-salaam.”

And arrivederci.

Brenner said something to Yasir, who stood and waved his arm toward the parked SUVs, and Brenner told us, “He says take any one we want.”

“Which one has the bag of khat?”

Brenner didn’t ask, but Yasir did give us three shiwals, one off his own head and two from his buddies, and Brenner said to us, “This is a gift to remember them by.”

And they have my underwear to remember me.

Brenner told them that everything we’d left behind, which was mostly luggage, clothing, and one can of mixed vegetables, was theirs to keep. And, no, they couldn’t have Zamo’s sniper rifle.

I said to Yasir, “See you in New York. Ben’s Deli.” I also said, “Shuqran,” which means “thanks.”

We threw our overnight bags into the rear of one of the Land Cruisers, and carrying our weapons, we all walked to the fish van.

Chet and Buck were still watching the screens, and Chet was on the radio speaking to someone. As we entered, he said into the mic, “I’ll call you back. Out.”

He and Buck stood, and Chet said, “So, you’re taking Zamo.”

Brenner replied, without explanation, “We are.”

It was Buck who said, “The Bedouin in the courtyard are all the security we need, and some of them will accompany us to the scene.”

So we said our good-byes without getting too teary-eyed, and we all agreed that the A-team had performed admirably.

Chet said to us, “Thank you for your very professional performance.” He admitted, “It hasn’t always been easy to work together, but we’ve put our differences aside in the service of our country.” He looked at me and said, smiling, “You have been a challenge, Mr. Corey, but I’d rather work with a man like you than someone who never questions authority.”

“Thank you.” I think. Why do I always get singled out? This started in grade school.

Anyway, Buck added, “You can all be proud of your work here. Thank you for volunteering and for putting your lives at risk.” He reminded us, “The homeland will be a little safer after Bulus ibn al-Darwish is dead.”

I reminded Buck, “We have a rendezvous under the clock at Grand Central Station.”

“I’ll be there,” Buck promised. “We’ll stay in touch.”

Chet said, “I’ll try to be there, too.”

You weren’t invited, Chet. But, hey, anyone who’s alive at the end of today is invited.

Buck, and even Chet, hugged Kate, we all shook hands, and we wished each other good luck and Godspeed.

Buck said, “As-salaam alaikum.”

To relive our first meeting a million years ago, I smiled and said, “That’s easy for you to say.”

He smiled.

We left the van and piled into the Land Cruiser. Brenner was behind the wheel, Zamo was riding shotgun, and Kate and I were in the rear. The gentlemen had their shiwals with them, but no one saw any need to wear them at this time.

Yasir got off his butt and ran across the courtyard to open the gate as we approached it. We all waved to Yasir, who seemed delighted to see us go. But not as delighted as we were.

Brenner drove around the courtyard walls of the Crow Fortress, our home away from home, and we headed across the rocky plateau, toward the rock pile where the Bedouin guarded the northern approach to the fortress.

Brenner was following the dusty tracks of the other vehicles that had been to the Crow Fortress, and I asked him, “Do you know where you’re going?”

He hesitated, then replied, “Down the north slope… to pick up the Marib road.” He assured us, “I’ve been to the airstrip and I can find it.”

“Good.” We continued on toward the north edge of the plateau.

Kate said, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Brenner assured her, “It is, and within an hour we’ll be on board a Company aircraft lifting off and heading for Saudi Arabia.” He added, “Probably Najran airfield.”

Kate asked, “Does anyone feel… sorry or disappointed that we didn’t stay until the end?”

Brenner and I, who are really in touch with our feelings, agreed that we would have liked to be there for the grand finale. Zamo, probably not into his feelings, said, “Tactically, this makes sense.” He added, “But it sucks.”

We continued on, and up ahead I could see the big rock formations and the SUV at the edge of the plateau where Musa’s men sat in the shadows of the rocks.

I said to Brenner, “Slow down.”

He reduced his speed and asked me, “What’s up?”

I replied, “Here’s what’s up, Paul. Not too long ago, Kate killed a CIA officer—in self-defense.” I asked him, “Did you know that?”

He hesitated, then replied, “I heard.”

“Good.” And you still have the hots for her? Brave man. I sleep with one eye open. Just kidding. I continued, “I think the Company is looking for some rough justice on that.”

Kate said, “John, we are not supposed to discuss this—”

“This is really important, Kate. Do not interrupt.” I continued, “As if Kate killing this guy wasn’t bad enough, we had also inadvertently messed up a CIA plan to turn most of the Mideast into a nuclear wasteland.”

It was quiet in the Land Cruiser, and I continued, “So, Kate and I know this big secret, and we’re sworn to silence forever—in exchange for the Company giving Kate a pass on the firearm incident. But the CIA doesn’t really work that way.”

Brenner, happily, agreed with me and said, “No, they don’t.”

“Right. They might let the gun incident go, but they are not comfortable with two witnesses walking around with that knowledge about the nuclear Armageddon that they’d planned for Sandland.”

Brenner was driving even slower now, and he seemed to be thinking. Finally, he realized I’d said my piece, and asked, “So what… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Kate and I, and anyone who happens to be with us, are not getting out of Yemen alive.”

No one had a response to that, and I explained, “That’s why Kate and I are here—this is the perfect killing zone. No one answers to anyone for anything here. It’s a black hole.” I added, “And this is Operation Clean Sweep.”

Brenner stopped the Land Cruiser. He glanced in his rearview mirror and said, “Kate? Do you believe this?”

My soul mate replied, “No, I do not.”

Zamo, who usually has no opinion, said, “I do.”

There you go. It’s settled.

Brenner asked the obvious question. “How do you think this… this is going to happen?”

“I’ll get to that later, but I can say it will happen between right here and the Marib airstrip.”

No one had any response to that.

I asked, “Why do you think we’re in this SUV, out of the Crow Fortress and away from Chet and Buck?”

Brenner replied, “What Chet said makes perfect tactical and operational sense.”

“Indeed, it does, which is why my paranoia wasn’t supposed to kick in. And you know what? I’m only, let’s say, seventy-three percent sure I’m right about Chet wanting to get me and Kate whacked.”

Kate said, “If we sit here all day, we could get killed. We need to get to the airstrip.”

Brenner asked me the next logical question. “What does this—if it’s true—have to do with me, or with Zamo?”

I replied, “You are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s logical that you would be ordered to leave with Kate and me, and if you weren’t, that would look suspicious. As for Zamo, he was never going to stay behind. That was all bullshit to make this look like a tactically sound plan.” I informed Mr. Brenner, “Buck knew exactly what you were going to say about Zamo staying here, and one way or the other, Zamo was not going to stay with Buck and Chet.” I added, “And if he did, Chet would kill him with an AK-47, take his sniper rifle, and make it look like the Bedouin did it.”

Both men remained silent, then Brenner said, “I’m just not buying that Zamo and I are going to get wasted by our own people just because we happen to be with you.”

“You should believe it, but here’s another reason you’re not in a good place—for all Chet knows, I or Kate have confided in you about my suspicions, and you are therefore a person like us who knows too much.” I reminded him and everyone, “And in this business, when you know what you’re not supposed to know, you become a worry to the Company.” I added, “The Company chose well when they chose Chet Morgan for this job.” I explained, in case no one noticed, “He’s crazy.”

Brenner, Kate, and Zamo thought about all that, and I could imagine them concluding that John didn’t need a Kevlar vest as much as he needed a strait-jacket.

But Brenner, either avoiding the topic of my paranoia, or maybe testing it, asked, “So do you think Buck is in on this?”

That was a tough call. The answer was that Buckminster Harris had been in the deception business so long, he really didn’t know what was real and what he was making up. Right and wrong was a little blurry, too. Plus, he just enjoyed the game. I was sure he liked me, Kate, and all of us, but if Chet presented him with a national security problem and a solution, then Buck would work with Chet on both. Nothing personal.

Finally, I replied, “Buck has to be in on it.”

Well, by now, Paul Brenner was waiting for me to announce that I’d been abducted by space aliens. But he was smart enough to be concerned, and he was still enough of a cop to want all the info. He said to me, “Even if you’re right… I mean, you’re giving Chet a lot of credit for being some kind of genius…”

“He’s out of his f*cking mind,” I assured everyone. “But he’s smart. I, however, am smarter.” I asked my seatmate, “Right?”

She didn’t reply. Clearly Kate was upset, and she was obviously worried that I’d slipped over the edge.

Brenner, in fact, said, “Look, we’ve all been under a lot of stress—”

“All right,” I said, “drive on.” I promised everyone, “We’ll see what happens.”

But Brenner didn’t drive. He asked me, “What do you think is going to happen?”

I replied, “I think that a Predator drone, under the command of the Central Intelligence Agency, and under the operational control of Chet Morgan in his fish van, is going to launch a Hellfire missile at this vehicle and kill everyone inside it.” I added, “The Predator pilot, wherever he is, will be clueless, or at least unsure, but he’ll do what the operational control guy on the scene—Chet—tells him to do.”

It was Zamo who spoke first. “Yeah. That could happen.”

It sure could. I also said, “The Company has picked this method of a friendly fire accident to send a clear message that it wasn’t friendly and it wasn’t an accident.”

Brenner stayed quiet awhile, then said to me, “Okay… what are we supposed to do?”

“What we’re not going to do is drive down that slope and head cross-country toward the Marib road, because if we do, we’re not going to get to the Marib road.”

Brenner asked, “Then why are we even in this Land Cruiser? Why didn’t you tell us this back in the Crow Fortress?”

“If I had, what would we have done?”

“Tell Chet and Buck what you just told us.”

I replied, “At least they would believe me. But here’s the deal—the mission comes first. Chet is poised to kill The Panther. And we will let him do that. But we will not let him have a friendly fire accident on our way to Marib.”

Brenner sort of nodded.

I said to him, “Let’s go.”

As we moved toward the rock pile and the Bedouin guarding the approach to the plateau, I said, “Chet has not directed a Predator to watch us because the Predator pilot and other ground controllers would see that it was us who got into this Land Cruiser, and they would not fire on it.” I explained, “Chet will get a Predator on station when he thinks we’re traveling cross-country toward the Marib road. He will tell the pilot to keep us in his sight, then at some point he will inform the pilot that the Land Cruiser is a confirmed target. And then Chet will execute the assassination stage of the flight and order the pilot to take out the target.” I added, “Kate’s balto and our shiwals will be mentioned in the incident report as one reason for the misidentification of the people in the Land Cruiser as a target.” I added, “Souvenirs can be dangerous.”

No one had anything to say about that, so I asked, “Would anyone have a problem with asking one of those Bedouin to drive this vehicle down the slope and toward the Marib road?”

Zamo replied in a heartbeat, “Not me.”

Brenner said, “I would have a problem with that… but…”

Kate didn’t reply, and I said to her, “If nothing happens, then you’re right and I’m crazy.”

She hesitated, then replied, “I… would not want to see an innocent person killed…”

I pointed out, “You said I was wrong.”

“I’m not making that decision.”

“Okay. I’ll make it.”

The Bedouin around the rocks were watching us, and Brenner pulled close to them.

I said to him, “I need your Arabic.”

Brenner and I got out of our Land Cruiser and everyone did their peace thing.

There were five Bedouin with AK-47s and they had one white Land Cruiser with them.

I said to Brenner, “Tell them we will give them mucho rials if one of them will take our vehicle to the airstrip and pick up an Amriki who is waiting there for us.”

Brenner glanced at me, hesitated, then began speaking in halting Arabic.

The five Bedouin nodded in understanding, and Brenner said to me, “This gentleman”—he pointed to a bearded guy in his thirties or forties—“will go for us.”

I nodded and smiled at the guy.

“He says he’ll take his own vehicle.”

“No.” I took Brenner’s arm and we stepped onto a small flat rock. I said, “See that?”

Brenner stared at the roof of our Land Cruiser, whose dusty white paint was smeared with what looked like blood, probably goat blood. He kept staring at the smear, then said, “Jesus…” He looked at me.

I stepped down off the rock and asked him, “So what do you think, Paul?”

He seemed at a loss for words, but then reminded me, “Yasir told us to take any vehicle.”

“Right. Pick a card. Any card.” At the risk of stating the obvious, I said, “They’re all marked.”

He nodded.

I said to him, “We can wipe the red target off, or since all the Bedouin vehicles are communal, we can swap cars with these gentlemen, and we can proceed to the Marib airstrip, and hopefully not get vaporized on the way. But I don’t think there’s anything or anyone waiting for us at the airstrip. So I suggest we go back to the Crow Fortress and deal with this.” I checked my watch. “We should be there about the time The Panther is in Chet’s sights.”

Brenner, who has seen lots of death, has probably not seen lots of treachery and double crosses, and he still looked a little out of it. Hello, Paul?

Kate and Zamo were out of the Land Cruiser, and Kate glanced at Brenner, then asked me, “What’s happening?”

I said to Brenner, “You tell her.” She never believes me.

The Bedouin were watching us, curious about what the crazy Amriki were talking about, so we didn’t want to go look at the roof again and put ideas into their heads. But Brenner said to Kate and Zamo, “There is a red marking—looks like blood—on the roof of the Land Cruiser.”

Zamo, who’d painted lots of people red with a red laser beam before he sent them to Paradise, got it in a heartbeat, and said, “Holy shit.”

Well said.

Kate is quick, but stubborn, and she reminded us, “But Yasir said—”

“They’re all marked,” I informed her. “They weren’t marked when we were up in the diwan or I’d have seen that, because I was looking for it. But when we went down to burn our civilian passports on the ground level, the Bedouin, at the prior request of Chet, marked all the roofs with goat blood, probably thinking that they were putting some kind of holy protection mark on the SUVs. You know, like the Passover thing with the lamb’s blood.” I added helpfully, “Exodus.”

Well, maybe that was a stretch, but close enough. Or Yasir and his buddies had no idea why Chet gave them a few rials to do something weird. But they did know to keep their mouths shut about it. I further informed my teammates, “Chet also asked Yasir to give us the shiwals, which will be mentioned in the incident report.”

Kate looked at me, and I thought maybe she’d say, “Sorry I doubted you,” but she didn’t. She asked me, and all of us, “What do we do now?”

I explained to Kate and Zamo that a road trip to Marib airstrip might not be productive, and I suggested, “We can let this kind gentleman here take the vehicle marked for death, and absolutely confirm that Chet was planning to whack us.” I asked, “Anyone need to see that?”

No one apparently did.

I suggested, “Let’s go back to the Crow Fortress and talk to Chet and Buck.”

Brenner agreed, but said, “They will deny everything.”

Kate agreed, and so did Zamo.

Indeed, Chet and Buck would deny everything, and we had no proof that I wasn’t totally crazy. And if we disobeyed orders and went back to the Crow Fortress and I accused Chet and Buck of plotting to kill us, that could get very weird, and I’d be the one answering charges back in the States. Not to mention that the Company would definitely see to it that Kate and I met with a fatal accident. So we couldn’t go back to the Crow Fortress without proof, we didn’t want to drive to Marib, and we couldn’t stay here.

Zamo said, “Let the guy drive.”

No one responded to that.

The guy in question, whose name was Emad, said something to Brenner, who didn’t reply.

Okay, someone has to make life-or-death decisions, and like Brenner, I too get paid for that. And yet…

Finally, I said, “Let Emad drive to Marib airstrip.”

Neither Kate nor Brenner seconded that, but neither did they object. Zamo, however, said, “Otherwise, you’ll never know for sure.”

Brenner hesitated, then said something to Emad, who smiled and got into our Land Cruiser. Emad didn’t ask for his money up front, but Brenner pressed a handful of rials on him and said something to him in Arabic.

In truth, we were becoming more callous and more like the bad guys, but at least we had a conscience.

Emad waved and took off down the slope.

Well, part of me hoped I was wrong, but the blood on the roof said I was right. In fact, everything said I was right.

One of the Bedouin said something to Brenner, and Brenner said to me, “He wants to know if we need a ride back to the Crow Fortress.”

I looked at my watch and said, “Ask him if we can borrow his vehicle.”

Brenner asked, and it was no problem, and I tipped them with the last of my rials.

I drove this time, and Zamo rode shotgun. Kate and Brenner sat silently in the rear.

After a few minutes we could see the Crow Fortress ahead, and I spotted a pile of rocks on the left. I pulled over and said, “We can watch from here.”

We got out of the Land Cruiser and climbed onto the rocks, which gave us a clear view of the flatlands below.

Zamo put his sniper rifle to his shoulder, adjusted his scope to full power, and said, “I got him.”

Brenner, Kate, and I did the same with the weaker-powered scopes on our M4s.

I could see the white Land Cruiser driven by Emad kicking up dust about a mile away, heading north toward the Marib road.

There wasn’t much vehicle traffic on the dirt roads that cut through the dry fields, and it was easy to follow the lone dust trail even as the Land Cruiser grew smaller.

The more time that went by without the SUV erupting into a ball of flames, the more I began to think that maybe I was missing my flight out of here.

No one spoke, but I could imagine what Kate and Brenner were thinking: Poor John has gone gaga. Zamo, however, was looking through his scope like he was tracking a Taliban general. He was as still as a statue and his breathing was so controlled that I thought he’d gone into a trance.

I was half hoping that I hadn’t sent an innocent man to his death, but as the seconds ticked by, I also hoped that a Predator pilot had the Land Cruiser in its crosshairs and was waiting for Chet to say, “Engage the target.”

After three or four minutes I lost sight of the SUV in my scope, and so did Kate and Brenner, and they put their rifles down. But Zamo still had him and kept looking through his scope.

I said, “Maybe this will happen later.”

No one replied.

Zamo said, “Lost him,” and put his rifle down.

Brenner asked me, “What do you want to do now?”

I replied, “Sit here and wait for the streak of white smoke.”

Again, no one replied, but Zamo was staring out at the distant horizon without his scope, so we did the same.

Kate said to everyone, “Let’s ask one of the Bedouin back there to drive us to the Marib airstrip.”

Brenner suggested, “Or let’s walk back to the Crow Fortress and say our car broke down and we need another one.”

Did I detect a note of sarcasm in his voice?

I said, “We can see the smoke trail for over twenty miles from up here.”

Brenner informed me, “I’m not waiting half an hour for that.” He said to Kate, “Please talk to your husband. We need to make a decision.”

“John.”

“Quiet.”

So we sat on the rocks and stared out at the blue sky. The crazy guy was in charge. Or he needed to be humored until he came to his senses—or until they could get the drop on me.

So we continued to wait, but only Zamo and I were giving the sky our undivided attention. Kate and Brenner were exchanging glances.

Please, God, let me be right about the CIA wanting to kill me and my wife. That’s not too much to ask.

Less than two minutes after we’d lost sight of the dust cloud, a white trail of thin white smoke cut across the blue sky. An instant later, there was a flash of orange light on the horizon, but no sound.

Zamo said, “Target killed.” He added, “Holy shit.”

Brenner stood, but said nothing.

Kate, too, stood, and stared as a column of black smoke began rising above the horizon. She said, “Oh my God…” I didn’t know if she was addressing me, but she looked at me and said, “I can’t believe this…”

Birds in the fields below suddenly took flight, then a muffled sound like distant thunder reached us and died away, leaving a stillness in the air.

Brenner was still staring at the rising smoke, and he said, “Those bastards.”

Zamo said, “I guess John was right.”

I guess so.

Kate said softly, “That poor man… he’s dead.”

No one responded to that.

Brenner said, “Okay, let’s go back and talk to Buck and Chet.”

I said, “They’ll think they’re seeing ghosts.”

We got into the Land Cruiser and headed back to the Crow Fortress.