SEAL Team Six Hunt the Scorpion(82)
“What have you learned so far?” Crocker asked aggressively. “Where is she being held?”
Remington: “We believe she’s somewhere in the capital.”
Crocker was on the verge of losing control. “Where, exactly?”
Remington: “We don’t know that.”
“East? West? South? Along the coast?”
Remington: “We don’t know exactly. But once we have actionable intelligence, we’ll move quickly.”
“Have you examined Brian’s body? Did you learn anything from that?”
“Nothing of material value.”
Crocker stood, took a deep breath, and said, “If anything happens to my wife, you’re both going to have hell to pay. I guarantee that.” As he started to walk, his arms and legs shook with emotion.
They seemed to know little, and had given him practically nothing.
“Crocker,” the ambassador said as he reached the door.
“What?”
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret later. The NTC is plenty annoyed with you and your team already.”
“Fuck them.”
His whole body burning with outrage, he walked past the secretary standing beside the Stars and Stripes, past the marine guard station, and into the dry heat outside. Sunlight glinted off multiple surfaces and stung his eyes. He saw the Suburban waiting and climbed inside, hoping for a few quiet minutes to figure out what to do next. But instead of two men inside, there were four, which confused him.
Then he recognized Volman, leaning over the front seat, sweaty and reeking of garlic, wearing a blue crewneck shirt with snaps at the neck, looking odd, out of place, like he always did. “What’d they tell you?” he asked.
Crocker took a moment to get his bearings. He turned to glimpse Ritchie behind him in the rear seat, with Akil beside him. Davis was at the wheel.
“Nothing, except that they think Holly’s being held somewhere in the city.”
“Where?”
“They don’t know.”
“What’s their strategy?”
“Their strategy is to wait.”
Davis: “Wait for what? Are they insane?”
“They reason that the terrorists won’t carry out their threat, because if they do, they’ll lose the leverage they have by holding her.”
Akil: “What if they’re wrong?”
Ritchie: “Yeah, what if they’re fucking wrong?”
Crocker felt a throb at the pit of his stomach.
Akil: “That’s ridiculous, boss. Stupid.”
Volman tapped Crocker on the shoulder and asked, “Who did they say is behind it?”
“Anaruz Mohammed.”
“Why?”
“Remember those three thugs we arrested at the refugee camp? It turns out that one of them is his half brother.”
“Fuck.”
Volman: “I have a source, someone with his ear to the ground, who is willing to help. He’s going to meet us at the guesthouse.”
“When?”
“Soon as he gets back into town. About an hour.”
“Thanks.” A slim ray of hope.
At the guesthouse gate Akil stopped to ask Volman why he was helping them.
Volman said, “I admire you guys and understand your frustration. I also think our policy of refusing to negotiate with terrorists is wrong. I mean, it’s fine to say that publicly, because you don’t want to encourage them to take our people hostage. But behind the scenes I believe we should do anything, including paying ransom, to get our people back.”
The more time Crocker spent with the young State Department officer, the more he liked him. He was an awkward man, but intelligent and with a good heart.
Crocker wanted to go on a short run to clear his head, but he thought it was more important to be ready when Volman’s contact arrived. So he lay on the sofa with his MP5 by his side and leafed through a copy of Sports Illustrated. One minute he was looking at a picture of Danica Patrick, the next he was dreaming that he was with Holly, lying on a bed in a hotel room. She was reading a magazine with Michelle Obama on the cover and wearing a white cheerleader-type skirt that showed off her tanned, smooth legs. When he reached out to touch them, they felt warm. Almost hot.
She moaned.
“Holly?”
He ran his hand farther up her leg to her thigh, where the skin turned lighter. She moaned again.
“Baby, can you hear me?”
Higher under her skirt he felt a big indentation and stopped. Lifted the dress up. Saw that a big piece of her leg was missing. Little black worms were eating at it.
He gasped, felt a stab of pain in his stomach, and woke.
Crocker lay alone in sweaty clothes. The last time he and Holly had spoken, they’d argued. He remembered it now. She was upset that he’d been spending so much time away from home, leaving her with the burden of dealing with Jenny, who was still adjusting to her new school and being a teenager.