They ran to meet Volman, Ritchie, and Davis, who were waiting by the fence.
“The guy sped off in a little dark blue Nissan sedan,” Davis said excitedly.
Ritchie: “Manny’s on his heels with Mohi. He’s headed south.”
“Let’s hurry!”
They piled into the Suburban. Davis gunned the engine; he’d raced stock cars as a young man and knew how to get the most out of a vehicle—even the bulky, clumsy Suburban they were in now.
Ritchie was on the radio communicating with Manny, then instructing Davis, “Make a right here. Look for a four-lane highway ahead. Get on it going south!”
Crocker sat throbbing on the middle seat, hoping against hope that the man would lead them to Holly.
Manny screamed through the radio, “Turn off at Al Belah Road.”
“Ask him how far.”
Manny over the radio, “You’ll see a stadium on your left.”
“How far?”
“You can’t miss it.”
Two minutes later Ritchie screamed, “There it is!”
Tires burning, they took the turnoff at sixty. Up a ramp, onto a dark, deserted street.
“Where now?” Davis asked.
Ritchie: “Keep going straight. Cut the headlights. Manny says you’ll see him parked next to a burnt-out truck. There’s one lone streetlight at the end of the block.”
Davis: “I see it! Yeah, I see it. There!”
“Stop. Park this thing in the alley.”
“You got it, boss.”
They slung their weapons over their shoulders, got out, and ran in a crouch behind the few parked cars to where the Toyota had stopped.
Mancini sat in the driver’s seat, loading his MP5, stuffing frag grenades and extra magazines in his pants pockets.
“Where the fuck did he go?” Crocker asked, stealing a glimpse at his watch.
“He entered a beat-up building around the block. You can’t see it from here.”
It was 11:38. His heart sank. They were running out of time.
“Where’s Mohi?”
“He went ahead to recon the place.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you go with him?”
“Calm down, boss. I was on the radio to you.”
“Sorry.”
“We’re gonna find her. I can feel it. We’re close. Fidem tene.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep the faith.”
Hearing footsteps approaching, they ducked behind the Suburban and readied their weapons. It was Mohi, out of breath. He pointed as he spoke a mile a minute in Arabic.
“What’s he saying?”
Akil: “It’s a five-story structure. Two vehicles parked out front. Men are loading shit into them, like they’re getting ready to leave. They’re moving fast.”
“Did he see a prisoner? Were they moving a female prisoner?”
“He says no.”
“Fuck!”
“Four large men. No woman. He thinks they’re just about ready to split.”
Crocker was thinking fast. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Wait. Ask him about the front gate.”
Akil: “What about it?”
“Ask him if there is one, and if it’s open.”
“It’s open.”
“Okay. Davis—you and Ritchie bring the Suburban around. Position it near the gate so you can block their escape if necessary. Manny, you take Mohi. Climb the wall and take the building from the rear.”
“Got it.”
“Make sure you’ve got your radio. Akil and Farag come with me. We’re going in the front gate. You guys know what to do. Shoot to kill any motherfucking terrorists. Look for the hostage—my wife!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Volman, you stay with the vehicle.”
Volman: “Good luck. I hope you find her safe.”
Crocker stole a look at his watch: 11:47. Thirteen minutes until the deadline.
He slapped Farag on the shoulder. “Ready?”
Farag flashed back a thumbs-up.
“Let’s go!”
They sprinted around the corner, spotted the five-story building, which looked badly damaged, and hid behind the six-foot-high compound wall.
Akil whispered, “Most windows missing. There are some flashlights or other kinds of lamps on the ground floor but no other internal lights.”
Crocker heard a car ignition start, then whispered, “Go!”
They turned the corner, weapons ready—a mixture of Glocks, MP5s, AK-47s. Saw two dark-haired men getting into a black pickup. Crocker dropped to his knees and opened fire.
“Not so fast, motherfuckers!”
The men returned fire. Bullets tore into the ground and flew overhead. Crocker scrambled for cover behind the open gate. Heard rounds slam into the metal. Reloaded. Akil crossed to the left side so he could get a better angle. Farag ran inside the compound and hid behind a low concrete wall that led to a stairway at the front of the building.