Jack Coughlin - An Act of Treason

Kyle broke in with a shout, “Jesus Christ, Jim. You just told these people where we’re going and how we’re going to get there!” The pistol was still firmly pointing at the guards as Kyle mentally processed the security options to egress the hotel. Was someone waiting on the other side of the door? Downstairs? On the streets?

“Just let me finish talking before you start shooting.” Jim Hall was having difficulty controlling his own voice because of Kyle’s stubborness. He took a deep breath. “Then, Lauren, you escort them down to our vehicle and haul ass out of here. Kyle, why don’t you go along and ride shotgun before you have a heart attack. Once they are inside the embassy gates, both of you come back here and meet me.”

“You can’t stay here in this room alone, Jim. We may just be swapping two prisoners for one.”

“Damn it, Kyle! Get it through your thick head that everything is fine here. Selim and I have some business to finish.”

“That is true, Gunny Swanson. No one in the Taliban or the Bright Path Party is going to try to stop you.” Selim seemed amused.

Lauren packed up her computer and shouldered the bag. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Leave the computer with me,” Hall said. “I may need it.” Lauren let the case slide from her shoulder.

“Don’t walk in front of my pistol,” Kyle said. “Sergeant Anthony, are you able to function?”

“Yeah. Who the hell are you?”

Swanson did not look at him. “Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Swanson. U.S. Marines. You check the door and the hallway. You move first, then Lauren, then Corporal Henderson. I bring up the rear. Jim, I will be back here in no more than two hours. Selim, I wish that I could trust you, but I can’t. So I will save any thanks until I get back.”

Selim smiled, totally at ease. “Actually, I understand your problem. I will be gone by the time you get back. I see everything I have heard about you is true.”

Jake Henderson leaned close to Lauren and whispered, “Who are you people?”

“Stay close,” she said. From her computer bag, she had pulled a small Heckler & Koch P7M8 pistol. Jake stared. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was packing 9 mm heat and acting like she knew how to use it.

Then they were out the door.

S WANSON JUMPED INTO THElead and ran down the carpeted hallway to the fire exit, his eyes roaming the area for telltale signs that this could be an ambush. He kicked the door open, and they dashed down the concrete staircase, their feet echoing. He called back over his shoulder, “Lauren, change of plan. Radio the driver to pick us up at the delivery entrance. We cannot chance going through the lobby.”

Javon Anthony had taken the trail position and kept checking over his shoulder. “Clear back here,” he shouted.

“Why didn’t we just take the elevator?” Jake asked.

“Keep going. Follow that dude and protect the lady,” said Anthony.

They pounded past the third-floor landing and kept going. There was no second floor, just a mezzanine. At the final landing, Kyle made a sharp turn toward the rear of the building and went into a service corridor, pushing by a surprised maid with her cart. He slowed, and they all grouped together as the corridor opened into a large, busy area where numerous staff members were going about their jobs. Sunlight poured through the wide delivery doors, where crates were being unloaded from trucks that had backed up to the loading docks. Swanson kept his pistol tight against his waist, hiding it beneath his sport coat.

“Here comes the car,” Lauren said softly, pointing to the right, where the CIA SUV was racing toward them. The driver hit the brakes, and the big vehicle skidded to a sideways stop. All four of them tumbled in through the unlocked doors.

“Get us to the plane and be ready for trouble,” said Kyle, pulling his weapon free again. The driver reached into a shoulder holster, withdrew his own Glock semiautomatic pistol, and put it on the seat between them. Swanson turned around. “Sergeant Anthony, there’s an Uzi under a panel behind the rear seat. Dig it out and stay back there to watch our six. Henderson, reach beneath the front seat and get the shotgun.”

Lauren moved aside so the soldiers could reach the weapons, but she barked at Kyle. “The airport? Hell, no, Kyle. We’re supposed to go to the embassy. Why are you acting like this? Jim said everything was okay.”

He did not look at her but kept scanning the street and the buildings. “Jim might be wrong. We just did a deal with the Taliban, and they aren’t famous for their generosity, nor their hospitality.”

“Their women were going to skin me alive,” said Jake Henderson, jacking a round into the pump shotgun that had been sawed off at both ends to make it short enough to fit in the vehicle. “I don’t trust them neither.”

Swanson put on his sunglasses to cut the glare. “Never do what your enemy expects, Lauren. If they have an ambush plan, it would be set between the hotel and the embassy. Unless you want to chance having an IED explode under our asses, we ain’t going that way.”

“So you want me to take these guys back to Bagram?” What Kyle said made sense. Jim was going to be angry, but she wasn’t really needed here any longer. Getting these boys entirely out of the Middle East and back on U.S. soil as soon as possible was the right play.

“Nope. The ghost plane is at your disposal, and it has aerial refueling capability. You take them all the way back to Washington. While you’re flying, have the CIA meet you at Andrews Air Force Base under a full security alert.”

“I’m worried about Jim’s reaction. He’s my boss, you know.” The computations whirred in her head. Swanson did not seem tense at all, but rationally reaching decisions that made total sense.

“No sweat. If he pulls any chain-of-command crap, tell him that I put you under temporary duty orders. Until you are in Washington, you’ve been drafted by Task Force Trident, and our authority comes from the White House.”

“You can do that?”

“Oh, yeah.” He flipped out a small green notebook and scribbled a telephone number on it. “And take this, Lauren. If the Agency people give you problems over this, call that number. It’s a private and secure connection directly into Trident. They will supply whatever backup you need.”

Javon Anthony never took his eyes from the windows as the SUV sped down a wide boulevard. The lightweight submachine gun with its stock folded and a full thirty-two-round magazine in place rested easily in his hands, locked and loaded. He had listened intently to the snippets of conversation, and it was obvious that the Marine was in charge. Anthony said to Swanson, “Listen, man, we’re just a couple of Virginia boys who have been through a lot in the past week, and right now, I’m confused as hell. How about letting us in on what the hell is happening?”

ISLAMABAD

S ELIM AND J IM H ALLwere in the comfortable chairs of the hotel suite, sipping glasses of Tennessee bourbon from a flask that Hall had brought along. Both Taliban guards had been dismissed and the four Americans were racing to escape. “I think they probably went out to the airport to put those soldiers on our plane,” Hall said. “Swanson would never go to the embassy after I mentioned it to you. Which is why I did it, and he reacted just like I thought he would. I know his moves. It gives us some extra time for our private talk.

“First, I want to thank you for giving up the prisoners. That leverage will be useful. And I want to return that favor immediately.” He emptied the glass in a final deep swallow, put it on the glass-topped table, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I do not know if your father has informed you of this, but I have decided to go into business on my own, Selim. You are my first customer.”