Chasing Tomorrow Page 4

  “And mine, too,” Masoud said. “Rest assured, we have plenty of help for you. The next image to appear on the screen was of a burqa, the long, loose garment worn by Muslim women covering the whole body from head to feet. “Burqa,” Masoud said, “your new best friend.”

  Everyone looked at him with a puzzled look on their face.

  “Burqas,” Masoud continued, “are going to be playing a vital part in the mission you’re about to undertake. We’re calling this mission, operation ‘desert ghosts’. Juan you mentioned beheadings. Well, you’ll be happy to know we’re going after Jihadi Joe who we believe is the executioner seen in the most recent beheading videos.”

  Juan slapped the table. “Yeah, baby. Let me at him!”

  Zach frowned. “Don’t get too excited, Juan. Everyone wants this guy, but I’m sure he’s well-protected. You might get him, but his protectors might get you in the process, and as you said, I’m not ready to lose my head over this.”

  “Yes, that sums it up pretty well,” Masoud replied. “We have reliable intel about who this guy is and where he is, but he is well-protected. It’s not an easy task getting close enough to take him out. That’s where the burqa comes in.”

  He advanced to the next slide, and a fighter, covered from head to toe in a camouflaged garment, appeared on the screen. “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the ‘combat burqa’.”

  Everyone leaned forward in their seats, curious about what they saw on the screen.

  Masoud continued. “We can thank our British friends for this. Their PM dedicated close to a million pounds in the development of this suit. It reflects infrared and disrupts the human signature, so the enemy can’t see us on their radar allowing us to get quite close to their strongholds undetected.”

  Tony let out a long, low whistle. “Frickin’ unbelievable.”

  “Very much so,” Masoud agreed. “I’ve personally tested it, so before you get too excited, however, I have to tell you, it’s difficult to wear. It’s heavy, and you’re in the desert so it’s hot, but when you’re within radar range, it’s a life-saver. It will allow you to complete your mission undetected.”

  He snapped off the computer and looked at the men. “So what do you think? Are you up to the challenge of going after one of the world’s most hated men?”

  No one spoke. A shroud of seriousness settled across the room as the weight of the possible deadly consequences of this mission set in.

  “We need a minute to talk this over,” Zach said, as he looked at his two teammates. He motioned toward the door. “Let’s take a walk.” They left the building and strolled around the perimeter. “So, guys, what do you think? I need to know your true feelings about this mission.”

  Juan blew out a long breath of air. “This is big. Who doesn’t want to get this guy, but man, if we fail, they’ll literally take our heads. We’re not coming home alive or in one piece.”

  Tony nodded. “But if this burqa suit is as good as they say it is, the chance for success on this mission is really high, and I’d love to nail that son-of-a-bitch.”

  Zach stopped walking and faced both men. “Right on both counts. Getting this guy would be primo, but the risk is primo too, so if you need time to think about this, I understand.”

  “What do you think?” Tony asked, looking at Zach. “Are you in?”

  Zach started to answer when he felt his phone vibrate. He looked down at the message. It was from Arianna. What piss-poor timing or maybe it was perfect timing. These kinds of decisions were always easy to make before. There was never anyone of importance waiting for him back home. It was different now, his having someone he loved dearly waiting for him, and it added to the gravity of the situation. Also, Tony was a married man now. All three men were in committed, serious relationships so there was more riding on the missions than ever before.

  He looked down at his phone and typed a period in the message box and hit send, sending a virtually empty reply back. It was a first, a small crack in the veneer of his impenetrable emotions which he never allowed to cloud his judgement or intrude on his thoughts when he was on a mission.

  In the end, one thing he knew for sure was that the love for this line of work seemed to be hard-wired in his DNA. His desire to serve his country against the unspeakable things he’d seen done in the name of jihad couldn’t be shut off.

  He looked back at his teammates, and said, “I’m in.”

  The three of them bumped fists, and Tony said, “Well, all right, then. Let’s do this.”

  Three new Kurdish fighters, Heval Ziryan, Heval Toshk, and Heval Jwan, walked back into the conference room.

  “Where’s the dressing room?” Heval Jwan asked. “Bring on my burqa. I’m a size ten.”

  COLOGNE, GERMANY

  Welcome,” Dolph Barnhardt said as Arianna and the rest of the news team entered local network headquarters. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m the bureau chief here in Cologne.”

  “Pleasure meeting you,” Arianna said, shaking his hand. “And this is Kevin, my videographer, and Raul, part of the security team.”

  “Dan Miller,” Miller said, not giving Arianna a chance to introduce him. “I’m the director of security for our employees. If you have any questions along those lines, I’m the man to see.”

  Arianna frowned at him. “Yes, he’s the man to see,” she repeated.

  “Nice to meet you. Please have a seat.” Dolph motioned toward a conference table. “Let’s sit here and talk about your upcoming project. Can I get you a cup of coffee, soda, juice, water?”

  “Coffee sounds good. Cream and two sugars, please.”

  Miller and another man, working security with him, went down the hall to the employee lounge, while Raul made himself comfortable in a nearby chair.

  “Hope it’s not too hot,” Dolph said, setting a cup of coffee in front of Arianna. “Our coffee machine’s kind of on the blink.”

  Arianna added some cream and sugar, blew on the coffee, and took the first tentative sip of the hot liquid. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  Dolph pulled up a chair. “So, I understand you want to cover the refugee crisis here, is that right?”

  “This story intrigues me. We haven’t heard too much about this situation in the States. What can you tell me about it?” She pulled out a notebook and began taking notes.

  “It’s a big deal here. Refugees have been fleeing Syria, Afghanistan, Libya…coming from all over the Middle East and North Africa. The conflict in Syria, fear of ISIS, is the biggest driver of migration. They fear for their lives. Christians especially. They’ve come here seeking asylum and to start a new life elsewhere.”

  “So, how many people are we talking about?” Arianna asked.

  Dolph leaned forward. “Are you ready for this?” He looked back over his shoulder like he was about to divulge a State secret. “Germany has received the highest number of any country…over a million people.”

  Arianna’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re kidding, right? A million migrants just in Germany alone? How are you handling all these newcomers…housing, food, jobs? That’s a lot of people for a small country like this to absorb.”

  “Tell me about it, and worse yet, our government is trying to make it seem like it’s no big deal.”

  “How so?”

  “Ha!” Dolph said, pushing away from the table. “Meaning, if you mention anything negative about refugees or immigration, you might be called xenophobic or racist as even legitimate concerns are being silenced.”

  Arianna looked over at Kevin who had been sitting silently taking this all in. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

  “You mean am I wondering how long it will take them to run us out of Germany if we try to report this story?” Kevin asked. “Yeah, all of a sudden I see this assignment taking us in a direction I hadn’t imagined.”

  Arianna nodded. “Exactly. This is probably why we haven’t heard too much about this story in the US. It’s not politically correct to talk
about it, so no one is.”

  “No one except us,” Kevin said, a sly smile on his lips. “I’ve seen that look before. I know you. You’re going to jump in with both feet and get this story even if we get run out of here.”

  Arianna had a cheeky grin on her face. “Yes, I am. This story has to be told, and I’m just the person to tell it.”

  Dolph let out a long, low whistle. “Good luck with that. You’re a brave soul, and by the way, are you sure the network wants to cover this? I’ve been with them for twenty years, and it seems to me, they usually gloss over stories of this nature, not wanting to ruffle any feathers.”

  “Well, I chose the story. I don’t think my producers back in New York fully understood the magnitude of what’s happening here. How could they? I didn’t fully understand it until now, myself. But where’s the fun in playing it safe? The grittier the story, the more I like it. I’m all in about this.”

  Dolph sat there with a skeptical look on his face. “Is she for real?” he asked Kevin. “Brand new job. No seniority. No tenure. She has a plum job as the foreign correspondent at a major network yet she’s willing to risk it all for a story like this. Boy, that’s gutsy.”

  Kevin sat nodding his head, smiling proudly at Arianna. “Yes, it is, and yes, she’s for real. She will definitely go all in to cover this story no matter what the risk so get ready. Full speed ahead.”

  “Bravo, Arianna. I love it. So what kind of help do you need from me?” Dolph asked.

  “I need to start gathering some interviews. I want to talk to refugees, and I also want to talk to some of the German locals to get their perspective, too. Oh, and, do you know this person,” she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse, “Monica Friedland? She wrote an article I’m interested in, and I’d like to interview her.”

  Dolph looked at the name on the paper. “Yes…well, I don’t actually know her, but I know she writes for the German magazine, Der Spiegel, very respectable magazine. I’ll see if I can arrange a meeting with her.”

  “Great! In the meantime, where can I find some refugees to interview?”

  Dolph signaled to a woman in the back of the room. “Can you ring up Barry and see how soon he can get here? Thank you.” He turned back toward Arianna. “Barry is a guy we use as an interpreter. I think he has some contacts in the refugee community willing to talk to us.”

  “How long before he can be here? I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

  “How long before Barry can be here?” Dolph yelled at the assistant.

  “He lives outside of Cologne, so I’m going to say at least an hour.”

  “Okay, at least an hour,” Dolph repeated. “It’s almost lunch time, so why don’t you go grab a bite to eat and meet back here at noon? That will give Barry time to get here and make some calls to set up an interview.”

  Arianna looked over at Kevin. “Sound good to you? We’ll have lunch, and then take a quick look around the city.”

  “You’re the boss,” Kevin responded. “I go where you go.” He gathered his things and followed her out of the room.

  SHORTLY AFTER noon Arianna, Kevin, and Raul arrived back at network headquarters. Dolph stood waiting with a young man of Middle Eastern descent, someone who looked young enough to be Arianna’s kid brother.

  “Everyone, this is Barry Darzi. He’ll be interpreting for you,” Dolph said. “He also has arranged to meet with a refugee who has agreed to be interviewed.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Arianna said. “Thank you for helping us. I’m embarrassed to say the only language I speak is English.”

  “Not a problem,” Barry responded. “I’m from Jordan, but I attended an American university, so my English is very good.”

  Arianna smiled at him. “You look too young to be a college student, but I’m happy for your help. Dolph says you know a refugee who is willing to talk to us.”

  “Yes, he is in the migrant camp not that far from here.”

  Dolph dangled a set of keys in the air. “Showtime. Everyone on board.”

  The group got into the Volkswagen van and began their trip to the refugee center across town. Located in western Germany, parts of Cologne ran along the Rhine River. Their route took them past buildings which were a mix of both High Gothic and reconstructed architecture. The city had been bombed over two hundred times during the war, so many of the original buildings were demolished, but all have been rebuilt.

  “What’s that building?” Arianna asked, pointing to a large fixture up ahead.

  Dolph looked up at a twin-spired church. “Oh, that’s the Cologne Cathedral. It’s a major centerpiece of the city. It’s about the only building that didn’t get bombed during the war. And next to it is the Cologne museum, a medieval repository of twentieth century art including masterpieces by Picasso. We’re quite proud of these structures and their contents.”

  Traveling a bit further, they arrived at a shelter for the newly arriving refugees. Tent villages had cropped up across the country. Also barracks, hostels, and former airports had all been used to house the influx of refugees. This particular shelter was once an abandoned building which had been quickly refurbished to house refugees and their families. Across the balconies, clothes hung out to dry, and trash littered the front lawn. The living quarters were anything but deluxe, but refugees were happy to have a place to stay.

  Barry led them into the building and down a dimly lit hall. He knocked on a door, and a man opened the door and looked warily out at the group.

  “Hello, Rashid,” Barry said in Arabic. “May we come in?”

  Rashid stepped back and allowed the group to enter.

  “This is Arianna,” Barry said. “She is here to interview you. And this is Kevin, who will be filming the conversation.”

  “I will answer what I can,” he said in his native tongue. “All I ask is that you not use my full name as I worry about my family’s security.”

  Barry translated what he said to Arianna, who responded, “Yes, no problem. We will never use your full name. Thank you for talking with me. Let us begin, then. Can you tell me how you happen to be in Germany?”

  As Barry translated and Kevin filmed, Rashid told his story. “For years I owned a shop in Syria. One day I was driving home with my two sisters from the city of Raqqa, a place with many ISIS fighters. A militant group stopped my car. They accused my sisters of not following the strict dress code for women in our country. They attempted to pull them out of the car, but I interfered. This is not how Islamic women should be treated, I told the men. Unfortunately, I paid for my outburst with a public beating, receiving a sentence of fifty lashes.” He pulled his t-shirt off and showed them the scars on his back.

  Arianna had to stifle a gasp which nearly escaped from her lips as she looked at the raised scars, crisscrossing Rashid’s back.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “This is terrible.”

  “A couple months later, a bomb dropped by anti-Syrian forces blasted my shop to rubble. I lost my livelihood. I was broke, and I now lived in constant fear for my life, so I left to seek safety and a better living for my family.”

  “Is your family here with you?” Arianna asked. She looked around the sparsely furnished room and saw no evidence of more than one inhabitant.

  A sad look covered Rashid’s face. “No the trip to freedom was too dangerous for them to make. My sisters were afraid to make the journey through ISIS-held areas, and my wife was pregnant with our third child. I had to leave them behind. I came across the Mediterranean in an inflatable boat that I thought would sink at any moment. I made it, and now, I hope to make a living here and bring my family to be with me someday, but it is hard and there is not much employment for me in Germany.”

  “Or perhaps you’ll be able to return home if the extremists are defeated.”

  Rashid let out an exasperated sigh. “Germany will never be home, but defeating ISIS will take a long time, so the chance of returning home is slim.” His shoulders sank. “I do not know w
hat the future will bring.”

  No one spoke for a moment, and finally Arianna signaled they should wrap up the interview. As she started to put her notebook away, Barry stopped her. “Hold on,” he said. “Rashid has something else to tell you.”

  Arianna turned back toward Rashid, opened her notebook, and indicated Kevin should begin filming again. “Go ahead,” she said when everyone was ready. “What do you wish to tell me?”

  “Your people should know this,” Rashid continued. “In our boat, I know of at least two ISIS fighters that came to this country with me. I’ve seen them in my village before. Militants are coming in with the refugees. I’m afraid this country is in trouble. You should know they are among us.”

  IRBIL, IRAQ : CAPITOL OF KURDISTAN

  Zach and his team reported for duty at a forward operating base on the Kurdish side of the Syrian border. Geared up and ready to go, they sported their new Kurdish names Ziryan, Toshk, and Jwan, their real identities never to be known. Gathering in a tent, they met Masoud for one final briefing before they set out on the mission to track down executioner, Jihadi Joe.

  “This is Commander Haji,” Masoud said to the men assembled there. “He’ll be working back-up on this mission. We have several things to go over before we deploy.” He nodded to someone in the back of the room.

  Seconds later, Tony ducked and batted at an insect that buzzed his head. A second later another flying insect buzzed him and a third one landed on the sleeve of Juan’s arm. He jumped as if he’d been stung and started to smash the critter, but Masoud stopped him. “Hold on, Jwan,” he said. “Look down at your arm.”

  Juan glanced down and saw something no bigger than a kernel of rice. He picked it up and asked, “What is this?”

  Masoud laughed. “It’s an RFID tag…radio frequency identification marker.”