DAMASCUS, SYRIA.

Unrolling toward a hazy desert horizon, Damascus in mid-afternoon sun was so bright it was as if the aperture on the world's lens was stuck one click wide.

From a distance the ancient city had an auburn hue, with its streets of ochre sand and its rooftops of tile and rusted tin.

The only tall structures still standing after years of civil war were the ornate white towers of mosques - Islam being the only thing all Syria held sacred. There were many scrub trees, the tallest just over the low rooftops, and between them high stone walls with pale traces of yellow and pink and grey, fading remnants of pre-civil war civility.

Set there several miles from the coast, framed to the west by desert and the east by gleaming teal ocean, it might have been some sleepy Mediterranean resort.

As the helicopter force swept in over it, gliding back in from the ocean and then banking right and sprinting northeast along the city's western edge, Damascus spread beneath us in its awful reality, a catastrophe, the world capital of things-gone-completely-to-hell.

It was as if the city had been ravaged by some fatal urban disease.

The few paved avenues were crumbling and littered with mountains of trash, debris, and the rusted hulks of burned-out vehicles.

Those walls and buildings that had not been reduced to heaps of gray rubble were pockmarked with bullet scars.

Public spaces displayed the hulking stone platforms that once held statuary from the

heroic old days of dictator Bashar Hafez al-Assad, the national memory stripped bare not out of revolutionary fervour, but to sell the bronze and copper for scrap.

The few proud old government and university buildings that still

stood were inhabited now by refugees. Every open space was clotted with the dense

makeshift villages of the disinherited, round stick huts covered with layers of rags and shacks made of scavenged scraps of wood and patches of rusted tin.

From above they looked like an advanced stage of some festering urban rot.

The bird landed roughly on the tarmac just out of the city, and we dashed into a nearby abandoned warehouse, ducking from keeping our heads being lopped off by the propeller blades.

Once safely inside, we dumped our bags of gear on the concrete floor.

It didn't matter that none of the men in this room knew enough to write a high school paper about Syria.

They took the Special Forces line without hesitation.

Warlords had so ravaged the nation battling among themselves that their people were starving to death. When the world sent food, the evil warlords hoarded it and killed those who tried to stop them.

So the civilized world had decided to lower the hammer, invite the baddest boys on the planet over to clean things up. 'Nuff said.

Damascus was like the post-apocalyptic world of Mel Gibson's Mad Max movies, a world ruled by roving gangs of armed thugs. They were here to rout the worst of the warlords and restore sanity and civilization.

I gazed out the window, the sun striking my face. Moving in front, were cars and people

and donkey carts. It was a normal Sunday afternoon. The target area was just blocks away from the center of the Souq al-Hamidiyeh Market, the busiest in the city.

"Okay," The Colonel said, strapping on his high concealment belt. "It's a personnel recovery of one Dr. Kimberly Wells, kidnapped by a group of unknown hostiles outside of Damascus several hours ago. We have a lead on a driver, but otherwise it's like she's vanished into thin air. We've got no other HUMINT or SIGINT, and not for lack of trying.

I don't have to give you a primer on the politics of this one. We're in a non-permissive environment in a state of civil war. And a city where half the population will shoot you on sight if they figure out who you are. There'll be no support on this one. No cavalry."

"Right." Taylor replied, no surprised. "We are the cavalry."

"Man, I appreciate the effort, but when are these bleeding hearts gonna learn that it's just too dangerous to try and help people over here, man?" Kowalski shook his head disapprovingly.

"God gave us two hands for a reason, my brother: One to help ourselves and one to help lift others." Spenser replied.

"Thank you, Clay." Kowalski replied.

"I got better uses for mine." I added, showing them my Heckler & Kock HK416.

Spenser looked up, surprised. "You're one scary lady."

"Come in, Alpha, One," the comms hashed.

Flag sighed. "Go for Alpha," he replied lazily, giving me a nervous glance.

"We got an ID on the driver. Nassim Taub. Married, one son. No known terrorist affiliations. Til now." The Tactical officer said. "Where is he?" Flag asked bluntly. "Well, it looks like he turned his phone off an hour after the kidnapping, but we should be able to get a fair idea of where he took her, at least." She replied. I frowned. "There's not gonna be a ransom call?" "They just drove her into the Al-Nusrah controlled part of the city." Tac said. "Al-Nusrah doesn't ransom Americans; they chop off their heads." Flag replied, looking at me.

"Alpha Team, you need to find that driver. Kimberly Wells' lifespan just shrunk from weeks to days." She hashed out.

Flag took a deep breath. "Okay. Now, we're all familiar with the Al-Nusrah front's work, including a bombing in Istanbul, the coordinated attacks in the Fedura Market, which killed eighty-seven civilians, including fourteen children. People like this are why we come to work every day. Last week, D.C dropped a JDAM (Joint Direct Attack Munition) on a meeting of ANF principals, killing their leader, Burhan Baghdadi. It seems Wells' kidnapping is in retaliation for something we did, which means she will be executed, very publicly, in the next 72 hours. That's our clock."

"So what's our position?" Taylor asked, stroking his beard.

"In position around the driver's apartment building, but it's a tactical nightmare. We recon the building. Chapman, Kowalski, you will take south-east rooftop. The rest of us will be on the ground." Flag instructed.

Kowalski raised his eyebrows at me. "Spotters. Perfect."

I rolled my eyes and took my sniper rifle and place the HK416 on its sling on my back. "I can't get away from you, can I?" I mumbled.

"Alpha Four, this is ground element. Plan is to take the driver, interrogate him, and make him give up Wells' location." Flag said through my earpiece.

"Jesus, look at that place." Kowalski said, peering over the ledge of the roof at the target building.

"All right, Chapman, got any movement in that apartment?" Flag was on the street below, looking up at us with his binoculars.

"Negative." I reported mechanically.

Kowalski had the RF (Radio frequency) booster pointed at the building, but the only noise we got was static, and a few muffled voices. "Walls are pretty thick, so the signal's not very strong. There's definitely multiple voices, though."

Flag grunted. "Well, we can't wait around here anymore. Kowalski, Chapman, soon as these kids clear the square, I want you to start your approach. Let's see what you kids can do."

I surveyed the area around the coffee shop Flag was sitting outside of, through the sniper scope.

"Wonder if I have kids." He said, thoughtfully.

"Really, bro?" I replied.

"What? I wouldn't be the first guy to get a call like that. Besides, I think I'd be a great dad."

"That's what you deduced?"

"Yeah, man. I dated a single mom once. I think I stuck around for the kid more than anything.

I liked the way he looked at the world, you know? It was all innocent, asking questions, no clue how bad it really is."

"You ever think maybe it was the kid who had things figured out as they are; you're the one who needs the adjustment?"

Kowalski scoffed. "No, Trig, I didn't. And stop with that spiritual jujitsu you do where I say something and then you turn it around on me."

I chuckled.

"Okay, Alpha Four, you're clear." Flag reported.
I began to pack up the gear, when Flag continued. "Remember, keep your head on a swivel.

Anyone could be a hostile."

We began walking around the perimeter of the building in our civilian disguises, watching for any movement.

Kowalski and I split up; he took the east alley toward the back, and I went around the front.

"Back door's clear." Kowalski said. "I'm heading in."

I casually strolled past Flag at the coffee shop, being sure not to look in his direction, when he spoke in my ear.

"Chapman, green door."

Just as I was about to reach the green door ahead of me, a tall, bearded man with a freshly pressed suit went through the door. I kept walking past, as though I wasn't going for it. "Flag…" I grumbled, hoping he wasn't distracted and saw the man who had cut me off.

"Yeah, I saw him. Double back and re-approach. Kowalski, one tango heading to you." He replied lowly.

I turned sluggishly, and made a second attempt to go in.

"He's heading towards the driver's door. Second floor." Kowalski reported.

"Okay, Hayes, Spenser, I gotta know what's happening in there, and I gotta know it now." Flag ordered.

Taylor sighed. "Sounds like an argument."

"Chapman, get in there." Flag said.

I entered the door, and went down the hall toward the staircase. There were silenced gunshots, and I paused on the staircase, taking out my SIG handgun.

My heart stopped, and then broke into a sprint. A cold sweat dewed on the back of my neck,

and my hands turned to ice. I waited, watching and listening to my next order.

"I got multiple shots. Nine mil." Hayes confirmed.

More gunshots came from upstairs. I hugged the wall, waiting for my instructions.

"Double taps. Whoever this guy is, he's a pro." Hayes continued.

"He's coming out." Kowalski said.

Taylor hummed. "Whoever that guy is, he's our only chance of finding Wells."

Flag breathed into the earpiece. "Chapman, let him walk."

I slipped my pistol into my pocket, and casually climbed the rest of the stairs. My eyes fell to my feet as I went up, so I didn't see if the man was looking at me as he passed, but he didn't seem as though he were in a hurry. "He's coming down." I whispered.

"He killed them all: Driver, wife, and son." Kowalski said, his voice almost a whisper..

Ellis sighed, frustrated. "See if you can get a good image for facial recognition."

"Nah, you don't need it." Flag said quickly.

"Why's that?"

"You don't need it. That's Abu Al-Akmuti, Baghdadi's top lieutenant. We follow him, he takes us to Wells. Kowalski, Jaz, on me. Hayes, Spenser, Taylor, on the move."

I doubled back, back out onto the street. I began to marvel at how I was the first one to be called by their first name by the Colonel. A Top Dog like Flag would only use first names if they had a close relationship. I very rarely called Kowalski or Thibault by first name, unless we were in public or very drunk. Sometimes if I wanted them to know I was angry with them.

Maybe it was a slip up? Did he think it was normal for people to call me Jaz? My name was always Trig in the force… always. But, I kind of liked it.

I saw Flag following the man ahead, and I sped up, and I passed Flag, keeping my eye on the target.

"Chapman, watch your spacing. Kowalski, stay parallel, maintain visual." Flag said.

"You got any idea where this guy's going?" Taylor asked.

Flag grunted. "Negative. So keep it tight."

One man beside me began talking to me, and suddenly grabbed at my arm. You are alone?

I snatched my arm back, and replied in Arab. Back off!

In most Arab societies, a woman walking unaccompanied by their husband usually meant she had been disowned for disobeying the husband, or dishonouring the family. Therefore, other men were allowed to prey on her.

"Chapman, break contact." Flag snapped.

The man ahead turned and looked at me-he heard me raise my voice.

"Damn it." I cursed.

"You're compromised." Flag replied. "Jaz, are you okay?"

I slowed down and took the target's right flank. Stupid move, I thought angrily.

"Alpha One, we have your target moving southwest." Tac reported.

"All right, I got the follow." Flag replied.

Ellis cleared her throat as I stopped at a fruit stall. "Here's the most recent intel on Akmuti.

He went to ground two hours before Wells was kidnapped. He's heading into a covered part of the market. Alpha One, we're about to lose visual." She paused. "We lost visual."

I ducked into a nearby alley, listening to the comms. No point in me continuing the follow if he made me. I stayed out of sight.

A man grunted, and the sound of ceramic pots smashed in the back ground.

Flag suddenly started speaking another language, then paused. "He made me. Kowalski, he's coming to you."

"He's pulling a phone." Kowalski replied.

Ellis gasped. "If he tells the other kidnappers, she's dead, Colonel."

"Execute, execute, execute!" Flag ordered.

"Hey, hey!" Taylor shouted. It sounded like they were fighting.

"Nope!" Flag yelled.

The male grunts stopped.

"Ops, status." Ellis ordered.

"All right, change of plans. We got a hostage of our own." Flag panted.

*.*.*.*

The Colonel was pacing the roof of the safe house, his phone to his ear. "I know this isn't where we wanted to be, but we didn't have a choice, and now we've got Akmuti….I understand, but at least this way, we can take another run at it."

"I thought you were gonna end that guy in the market." Hayes said to me, taking a swig from his water bottle.

I took off my hijab, smiling. "They get grabby, I get crabby." I let my hair down out of the usual pony tail and tired it back up, tighter this time.

Taylor looked at Kowalski, who was folding up his prayer mat. "Show me a man who believes in something greater, that's a man I'll fight beside."

"Kowalski, doesn't it make you a little angry to be sitting in a mosque praying next to a guy who might blow your head off someday?" Hayes asked.

"Makes me angrier than you, as a non-Muslim, could ever understand." Kowalski muttered.

"I understand Kowalski is new, but he spent three years undercover with ISIS. General vetted him. I trust him. If he tells me it's gonna work, it's gonna work..." Flag continued on the other side of the roof. "…Of course it is…Okay, so then what's the alternative? We take him to a CIA safe house? It's gonna take them a week to break him…The only way Akmuti gives up Wells' location is if he doesn't know he's doing it." He paused, looking over at us as we leaned on the wall. "Right, switching." He looked at Kowalski. "You're up."

Kowalski bowed his head nervously.

I glanced at him, but he didn't raise his head to look back.