Here is part II of the end! Rooftop shouting is still a plus. Go Lone Reader Go.
AFRTS: stands for Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
ISI: Stands for Inter-Services Intelligence and it is the largest and most powerful of the three main branches of the intelligence agency of Pakistan.
She was wearing the uniform and playing the last dregs of the part, for the benefit of two MPs assigned to escort her to FOB Danger for punishment and evacuation. Real or not, Lieutenant Benally had gone AWOL chasing an incorrect set of orders and no one was about to let that pass without the prescribed wrist slapping and pay docking the situation necessitated. She was surveying the hustle and bustle of the base from behind her sunglasses, waiting until the soldiers manning the gates processed the arrivals an began focusing on the departures.
Incoming vehicles were always first, as a courtesy; people waiting to come in were not as safe as anyone waiting to go out. The line grew longer by six more Humvees set to replace patrols due back for a break and angrier as a seventh car cut in front of Lt. Benally's MPs in part because it was bypassing the queue and also because they covered what little sunshine the men waiting outside the vehicle had managed to find. Sergeant Mendez went from annoyance to attention in two seconds flat. Kai didn't have time to turn around to see the source of reverence before Colonel Ryan had ordered the trio to stand at ease.
"Let me see your orders," he said to Mendez. The sergeant's boots skid on the pavement complete with speeding car noises as he turned around to procure the transport documents on his clipboard inside the car. Ryan scanned the writing and pulled the papers from the plastic tab.
"Get up Lieutenant; you are coming to back to the FOB with me." The two sheets of paper disappeared crumpled into one his pockets.
"We have direct orders from Lt. Col. Lyle to deliver the Lieutenant to Diamondback for transport, Sir."
"And now you have direct orders from Colonel Ryan to turn over the Lieutenant and go beautify the Welfare and Recreation trailer. It's up to you whether you want to detail the Chapel lawn too." An eyebrow went up higher than the other for an effect that wasn't quite a scowl but nearly made Sgt. Mendez cower though he was slightly taller.
Lt. Benally stood up on the bed of the M998. She walked the three steps to the edge and held on to Sergeants Mendez and Hart to get down on the pavement, making a face like a kindergartener in trouble. Her cast had been replaced by tight bandaging over a thinner plaster frame and even though it provided easier access for scratching, the non-existent ease of use remained unchanged.
There was shuffling inside the Colonel's Humvee as a man in the passenger seat in front climbed on the gunner's turret and balanced himself on a leather sling-seat like a beefed up playground swing. A second uniform jumped out of the back seat and took the gunner's place by the driver. Lt. Benally slid into the vacated seat awkwardly. She put her helmet aside and adjusted the straps on the soft, bucket hat until it was secured tightly to the back of her head. She pulled the ID tags around her neck up over her hat and pooled the long beaded chain in her right hand.
"Lt. Kai Benally? I'm fucking Egyptian! Which one of you yahoos came up with my legend?" She asked at last, with a reluctant grin taking over face as she swung the little aluminum tabs onto the Colonel's side. Next to the driver, Lt. Davis raised his hand. The index finger was missing from the knit glove insert he was wearing.
"Only had 'bout ten minutes to type up your papers ma'am; including all the commendations," Davis replied. His voice was equal parts sheepish and smug. "'Sides, you didn't look like a Sheldon to me."
"Did you find our hospitality to your liking Miss Girard?" Ryan asked pocketing the single use tags for the imaginary West Point Lieutenant.
"I've peed in cleaner toilets but all in all it's not a bad gig. How did it go in Rouen?"
"Not a hitch and you were right about Jerry. He was a dead ringer for Rashid." Her face beside the Colonel didn't betray any emotion so Ryan went on. "Hassan Ghazi was delivered to your colleagues in Karachi last night; heard they can't shut him up."
"What about my most favoritest asshole ever?"
"Not as helpful as your missing chief," Ryan replied wistful, thinking of Ghazi's incurable diarrhea of the mouth. The line wrapped around red velvet ropes outside the PX flashed by the driver's side window as the Humvee drove past.
"It'll wear out," she said reassuringly, like she was reading for the part of a mattress salesman in an outlet store. For all the supposed liaising, their timing was strained. Both ends of the conversation were mentally elsewhere. Both ends of the conversation were just showing up.
"Last chance to join us," Ryan added. "I could use your help before we hand him over to the ISI." She shook her head from side to side.
"Sorry Colonel. I'm off to Germany to work on my tan."
The inside of the car fell silent for several minutes. The gunner shifted in his sling. She looked up suddenly, surprised by the very silence because they were parked in front of a landing zone with the engine turned off and that kind of peace and quiet was an endangered species in the middle of war.
"Why do you still go by Marie?" The beads on the ID tags' chain ran past his fingers like it was a rosary.
"I'm a bleeding heart sentimentalist?"
The black dot in the cloudless sky grew larger and noisier, more like a helicopter should be. Marie reached for the door handle, which Lt. Davis got from the outside. She pulled the neck of her undershirt away from her body and stuck her hand into the pocket-like space formed by the gauze stretched over her breasts. She placed a shiny plastic sleeve between the seats.
"It's encrypted ten ways from Sunday but I hear your driver has a knack for finding the back doors in that sort of thing," she added.
"Is this…"
"Consider it an early Christmas gift." She said without turning around. Colonel Ryan peered into the sleeve at the hard drive inside.
"Are you sure? You'll be in a world of shit when they come asking."
"In the fight between computer and missile, missile always wins Colonel; besides, I am a disgruntled freelancer with an axe to grind. If they didn't foresee the possibility that Rashid's computer would not be recovered, it's their boat up Shitcreek."
"Thank you," Ryan said. The din of the helicopter rotors saturated the air and he pocketed the drive, already thinking about Karachi. The risk and expense of something as incredibly illegal and involved as snatching Rashid would only pay off if he talked.
"You know I'm a sucker for moral quagmires," Marie said smiling, once again radiating playful come hither-ness as precise as if there was an on-off switch. She thrust her hand into Ryan's space, reaching over the rucksack between the back seats. They shook twice before she pulled away.
"Lots of interesting stuff in there about Rashid's business model," she yelled turning around. "He liked to bankroll small guerrillas to babysit his heroin; people like those men who killed your wife."
She looked briefly over her shoulder then back at the landing zone straight ahead. Lt. Davis ran behind her, like the good a little escort, into the waiting helo.
-X-
Silas woke up startled by the blaring television set. It took him a second to recognize his surroundings for what they were; the recreation tent, 2:50 a.m. Mosul time. He had rolled onto the remote on the couch where he had nodded off an hour earlier after wandering in unable to sleep. He pressed the volume button until the man inside the box wasn't screaming anymore, thinking about the strangers he had seen in Jamila's house the day before and knowing that he could never be sure what happened to her in the end. The satellite channel was broadcasting the evening news as seen by the 4th Infantry Division in Fort Hood. Something about the handsome, bearded face flashing on the screen over a bold headline was looked familiar. He leaned closer to the TV.
This is an AFRTS News Minute: Former Pakistani ambassador to France, Rashid Abdullah Sabawi has been missing from his home in Rouen for seven days. Footage culled from a traffic camera in Rue du Rosier showed three armed men dragging the ex-consul into an unmarked van in the early morning hours of November 17.
The former ambassador made the news in October when the findings of an ongoing investigation into the 1999 bombing of the French embassy in Pakistan confirmed his involvement in the attack. During the previously unclaimed incident, a briefcase filled with Semtex detonated in an underground garage, killing eight and wounding another thirteen. The ex-consul's wife, Marie Girard and the couple's infant son were among the fatalities at the time.
Rashid Sabawi holds dual citizenship in France and Pakistan. A ransom demand has not yet been made. That is an AFRTS News Minute; I am Paul Waldrop at the news center.
SSgt. Silas's mouth was gaping open as the screen became grainy grey and then black. He looked around the tent half wanting to tell someone about Rashid and Bina and half thankful that there was no one around to tell. The closest thing to a witness at 2:51 a.m. was Pvt. Frank 'Dim' Dumphy, peeing gleefully on Lt. Hunter's picture two tents away.
Voila for real! You made it!
Thy Author and Ze Editor