Alex Berenson - The Night Ranger

But she did sleep, she must have, because time leapt forward without her realizing, and when she opened her eyes she saw Wizard coming out of the darkness, and beside him a tall man covered in a coat of mud so thick that at first she couldn’t tell if he was white or black. As he got closer she recognized him, not from his face but from the size of his shoulders and his arms. He was the white man Wizard had shown her on the cell phone the day before, in the Land Cruiser with the black guy. Gwen had asked if they were looking for her, and he’d said, If they are, they won’t be much longer. In his cool Wizard way. But he’d been wrong about that, along with everything else.

The man didn’t seem to be a prisoner. His hands were free. He wasn’t hooded. Owen and Hailey stood beside her and watched as Wizard led the man to his hut. “Maybe he’s here with the ransom,” Hailey said. “Maybe that pack is filled with money.”

“Why they dropped the bomb, a carrot-and-stick thing,” Owen said. “Luca Brasi making an offer even Wizard isn’t dumb enough to refuse.”

Gwen wondered what he was talking about and decided she didn’t care. Behind them, Yusuf groaned. She turned just in time to see him pull himself onto all fours and vomit a stream of clear liquid.

She went to him, tucked herself under his bony left arm, straightened him up. His skin was sticky and feverish, his eyes unfocused. He stank of grease and sickness. The top of his head barely reached her chin when she pulled him to his feet. He couldn’t have weighed much more than she did, which was lucky, because when she edged him from the wall, he sagged onto her.

“Hailey—”

Hailey came over, put a thumb under his chin to lift his head.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m more at the holding hands while the nurse gives you an ouchie level of medical expertise.”

“We’re getting him out of here.”

“Nobody out there can do anything for him, either,” Owen said.

“It’s too hot in here and he’s scared. We’re taking him out.”

Owen put a hand under his rifle. He wasn’t exactly aiming it at them, but he wasn’t exactly pointing it away, either.

“Planning on shooting us?” Hailey said. She came under Yusuf’s right side and lifted him. Together she and Gwen walked him past Owen. He took his hand off the rifle. His mouth was notched open, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done.

Gwen and Hailey reached the doorway and stood with Yusuf between them. The rain had stopped now, and the clouds were lifting. A few stars shone weakly. Gwen sensed that the sun was close by, ready to banish the night.

Three White Men trotted over and took Yusuf, squawking at him in Somali. “What you do to him?” one said in English. He spat at her feet. Gwen wondered if she’d made a mistake, if Owen had been right that without Yusuf they were defenseless.

While she tried to figure out what to say, Wizard and the white man came out of Wizard’s hut. Wizard shouted at his men, and they backed away from Gwen unwillingly, like dogs that didn’t want to listen to their master. Owen put down the AK and stepped forward. The three of them stood side by side, a welcoming committee, as Wizard and the white man walked up to them.

“I’m John Wells. Nice to meet you.” He’d washed his face, though mud still caked his clothes.

He had a low laconic voice, easy and confident. She wanted to put her arms around him and not let go. As she looked closer, she saw he was sick, shivering under his muddy clothes in the cool night air, his eyes red-rimmed. Still, she’d gladly take her chances with him.

“This man come to take you home,” Wizard said.

Before Gwen could exhale, before she could exult over that word and everything it meant, Wells raised his hand. “It may not be quite that easy.”

27

They looked okay, under the circumstances. About what Wells had expected. Gwen was drenched and filthy, her hair streaked with mud. Hailey’s cheeks were hollow, her lips painfully chapped. They’d both lost weight. Owen seemed healthy enough, but his eyes were dark and angry, rising to meet a challenge Wells hadn’t offered. Wells wondered whether Owen was remorseful for killing the guard . . . or confused because he wasn’t remorseful for killing the guard. Either way, his return to civilian life would be tough.

First Wells had to get him there. Wells didn’t hug any of the three, or even shake their hands. He didn’t want to rile the soldiers. The volunteers might not realize, but they were lucky for the rain. Under a baking sun the Somalis wouldn’t have been so patient with wazungu who’d killed one of their own.

“Come with me.” Wells led them east as Wizard walked back to the center of the compound, yelling to his soldiers, directing them into a loose circle near his hut. No one stood too close. They’d realized big groups made ripe bomb targets. Wizard ducked into his hut, came out with the bag of cash from Wells. The White Men cheered when they saw the bag, and Wizard shouted as enthusiastically as a presidential candidate in a swing state. Talking to Wells in the hut a few minutes before, Wizard had seemed exhausted, almost ready to quit. He’d made a remarkable transformation, one that made Wells nervous. A man who could swap his emotions so easily might betray the promises he made just as fast.

Wizard raised the cash over his head and his soldiers cheered again. Wells wondered if he was promising that the money was merely the first down payment on a future ransom. He pointed northeast, toward the Dita Boys.

Wells led the hostages far enough from Wizard that he wouldn’t be heard. “It’s good to see you three. I’m sorry about Scott, but with any luck within a couple of hours we’ll be back in Kenya.”

“Who are you?” Owen said.

“I used to be CIA. Gwen’s family sent me. I tracked you to the camp in Kenya and then here.”

“What’s going on here? Who dropped the bomb?”

Wells wanted to explain the situation his own way, but he had to calm Owen. “The bomb came off a CIA-controlled drone called a Reaper that’s circling the camp. We were trying to convince Wizard to let you go. He’s agreed, if we’ll help him with another militia leader named Awaale.”

“Help? Like how?”

“Awaale has said he’ll attack if he doesn’t get you by the time the sun comes up. Wizard says he’s got three hundred soldiers. They’re called the Ditas.”

“So Wizard is giving us to this guy Awaale?”

“Owen. No one’s giving you to anyone. Wizard just set a meeting with Awaale. Close by. He promised to hand you over, but it’s a trick to get Awaale and his men into the open so the Reaper can take them out.”

“One drone can kill three hundred men?”

“Besides a bomb it’s got four missiles called Hellfires. The Ditas will be clustered up and the bomb is big enough to take a lot of them out. Each Hellfire can blow up a technical—that’s one of those pickup trucks with the machine guns. Wizard says Awaale’s men aren’t well-trained. Once they see him get splattered, they won’t hang around. And Wizard’s going to attack as soon as we drop the bomb. That’s what he’s telling his men now.”

Owen stepped close to Wells, almost chest to chest. “You obviously know he killed Scott?”

Wells nodded.

“Left his body chained to the wall to rot. We watched him do it. Then he took us. Now you’re helping him?”

“To set you free.”

“If the CIA knows we’re here, why doesn’t it just rescue us, make these guys lunch meat?”

“This all happened in the last few hours. The Reaper and I are all we’ve got right now. But my read is that trying a full-on rescue would be a mistake anyway. Wizard’s men would kill you before anyone could reach you.”