Andrew Kaplan - Carrie's run

Crimson looked at her and motioned for her to come out onto the roof. She stepped outside, the bright sunlight forcing her to squint. One of the team members was putting a bandage on Travis’s arm. The bodies of two mujahideen were over by an air-conditioning unit and another body in a white doctor’s coat lay faceup near the parapet. But that wasn’t why Mullins wanted her.

An Arab man in a doctor’s white jacket was standing on the parapet at the edge of the roof, holding a toddler wearing just a diaper in one hand and a hand grenade in the other.

“Is that him?” Mullins asked, keeping his MP5 aimed at the man on the parapet. “Abu Ubaida?”

It was the fourth time she had seen him. First in the photo with Dima she’d gotten from Marielle in Beirut, the second time in the souk , the third time in the video from Romeo’s house. The thrill of recognition was unmistakable. It was Abu Ubaida.

“It’s him,” she said. “Absolutely.”

“You! American sahera ,” Abu Ubaida said, staring at her and calling her a witch. So he recognized her too. “From the souk .”

“Me,” she said.

“I’m leaving,” he told them in English. “Anyone tries to stop me, the baby dies. Shoot me, I drop this grenade and she dies.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mullins said. The weapons of almost a dozen American soldiers with him on the roof were aimed at Abu Ubaida.

“Then she dies,” Abu Ubaida said, pressing the grenade against the girl’s body as she squirmed in his grip.

“Let her go,” Mullins said. “That’s the only way this ends.”

“If you want to kill her, it’s on your soul. I am ready to die,” Abu Ubaida said.

“You won’t go to Jannah,” Carrie said, speaking of the Muslim heaven.

“I will. It is jihad ,” he said.

“Not like this. This Allah will not forgive,” she said, watching him intently. Whatever he was going to do, she could see in his eyes he had decided. But before she could cry out or do anything, he dropped the toddler and tossed the grenade directly at Carrie, and before anyone could do anything, he shouted, “ Allahu akbar! ”- God is great! — and jumped off the roof.

The hand grenade came directly at her and Captain Mullins. As it bounced on the roof less than a meter in front of them, Crimson, moving with incredible speed, jumped in front of her and, unbelievably, kicked it like a football. A split second after leaving his foot, the grenade exploded.

The explosion ripped Crimson’s leg off at the knee, metal fragments whizzing right at them. She thought she was dead, but Crimson’s massive body with its Kevlar vest shielded her even as he crashed like a tree. Captain Mullins and two of his men were hit multiple times by flying shrapnel from the grenade. Part of Mullins’s cheek was ripped open, but Carrie was untouched. The toddler sat on the roof by the parapet, screaming loudly, also apparently unharmed.

One of the other soldiers raced over to Crimson, who lay on the roof, and began working to tie off his leg, bright blood spurting rhythmically from the stump. Crimson’s foot, with his combat boot still on it, lay on the roof a few feet away. Captain Mullins, bleeding, also came over as the other soldiers spread out to secure the roof.

Carrie knew she should stay and help, especially Crimson, but she couldn’t. Her only thought was of Abu Ubaida. She had to see what had happened. She turned and ran back to the metal staircase, thinking to herself, What kind of a shit am I? He saved my life, twice-and all I care about is the mission? But she couldn’t help herself, racing down the stairs to the ground floor and out the door to Haifa Street, knowing that she would think about what she was doing at this moment for years to come, in the long sleepless nights when the clozapine wasn’t working. Abu Ubaida was lying on the sidewalk some fifty meters away, the white doctor’s jacket he’d been wearing dark with blood in the bright sunlight.

She walked over, her insides trembling. Except for the blood pooling at the back of his head, the man on the sidewalk looked exactly as he had in the souk in Ramadi. His eyes stared vacantly up at the sky and she didn’t have to bend down to check his pulse to see that he was dead.

Feeling as if someone other than her was controlling her movements, she aimed her Beretta pistol at Abu Ubaida’s face. This is for Ryan Dempsey, you son of a bitch, she thought, and ignoring the fact that he was already dead, squeezed the trigger.

Central District, Beirut, Lebanon

Flying over the peaks of Mount Lebanon, approaching Beirut, the city spread out below her all the way to the Mediterranean, a distant blue in the afternoon sun. She hadn’t intended to come to Beirut. In fact, she’d been specifically ordered by Perry Dreyer and Saul to get her “ass back to Langley ASAP.”

She had gone back to the U.S. Refugee Aid Service, the CIA cover office at the Convention Center, escorted by Master Sergeant Travis, who made sure she was safe every step of the way, insisting on going with her right up to the door of the office before saying good-bye.

“Please thank Crimson for me. I’m sorry I had to leave. He saved my life today. Twice,” she told him.

“I’ll tell him. You did good today, ma’am.”

“Not really. I’m lousy at taking orders. And I was scared to death,” she said.

“So?” He shrugged and, giving her a little wave, left.

She went inside the CIA offices and called Saul via JWICS-based Skype with the code word “Home Run,” indicating Abu Ubaida was dead, no matter that it was four in the morning in McLean.

“You’re positive he’s dead? No question?” he said, and despite the excitement, yawned.

“One hundred percent,” she said. “It’s him. It’s over,” she said, suddenly sleepy herself. She hadn’t slept all last night and it was starting to hit her. Also, the adrenaline that was part of the battle was seeping away and she felt spacey. She needed her pills.

“Unbelievable. Truly, Carrie. That’s really something. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know. Numb. I haven’t slept. Maybe I’ll feel it tomorrow.”

“Of course. What about al-Waliki and Benson?” he asked.

“Why? Did Benson give the director an earful?” She tensed, imagining Benson demanding her head on a silver platter.

“Matter of fact, he was saying nice things about you. Says you acted appropriately, probably saved their lives. In fact, it made him feel part of the battle. He can’t wait to tell his war stories in the Oval Office. Actually had someone take a photo of him with the combat fatigues and the M4 you gave him.”

“No shit?” she murmured.

“We understand Secretary Bryce is fine. She’s supposed to meet with Benson and al-Waliki later today. They were setting the agenda when you broke up their meeting,” Saul said.

“Yeah. After her plane landed, they kept her in a secure bunker in Camp Victory while they made sure all was quiet in al-Amiriyah.”

“Listen, Carrie. David wants to debrief you himself. So do I. We need you back in Langley ASAP.”

A pang went through her. Was this like before with Fielding? An excuse to put her back in Intelligence Analysis?

“I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” she asked.

“On the contrary, both Dreyer and David are writing letters of commendation for your 201 file. Congratulations. Hurry back, there’s lots to talk about-and we do need a full debrief,” he said.

“Saul, there are still loose ends. Beirut for one. Abu Nazir’s still out there, possibly in Haditha. And there’s something else. Something Abu Ubaida said when he was interrogating Romeo-sorry, Walid Karim, that I can’t get out of my head.”