WAR

Desert Storm

.....

The AH-64A Apache attack helicopter had made good time since leaving the Saudi capital. Franklin had jumped from the chopper before it had landed properly, his actions reminding him of his younger days as an ordinary grunt moving into a hot LZ in the 'Nam. Qutar came out to greet him, the expression on his face anxious. "Major, we set up those roadblocks as you requested, but I've a feeling he's already passed through."
"What makes you think that?" Franklin queried, even though the Saudi's words confirmed his own suspicions.
"I sent some men into Ma'qala to check on any vehicles passing through their town. Seem's there were some. I think our man found alternative transport in Rumah and that he bypassed this area before the checkp...". The Colonel's words were chopped off as a vehicle, horn blaring, came racing out from the direction of Ma'qala. A soldier dressed in battlefield smocks hopped out of the vehicle, as Qutar peeled away to question him. The Saudi soldier snapped a rigid salute, and spoke in hurried whispers to the Colonel. Qutar came back within a minute, his face grave. "It seems I was right. Our men found a dead Qutari soldier on the outskirts of their camp. It looks like he was bayoneted or knifed to death."
Franklin nodded and called to Jones to bring over a map. He then went into a consultation with Qutar and several other ranking officers, spreading the map on the ground and hunkering like red Indians around a campfire. "From my way of reckoning," he explained, "this spy could have kept going north to Wabra, then on to Safa and from there it's just a few klicks to the Kuwaiti border. Or he might have swung east along this route," he added, tracing the route along the map with his forefinger, "to Uwaina, then north to Qariya and keep going. Agreed?"
The Saudis nodded in unison.
"The million dollar question is which route did he take?" Franklin glanced at Qutar. "What do you think Colonel?"
"I believe he's still headed north. He probably thinks he has enough of a headstart and not knowing how fast we found that patrol back in Riyadh. I think he'll head north all the way."
"I'm inclined to agree," Franklin concurred. "So men unless...".
"Sir," Jones interrupted. "You're wanted urgently on the radio."
Franklin excused himself and hurried to the chopper. When he returned moments later there was a sheepish grin on his face. "Our friends from the Shin Bet," he explained. "Late intelligence reports have it that Amad has a cousin at Qariya."
"You think he'll go there?" Qutar asked.
"I'd bet on it," Franklin said. "Looks like we were both wrong. He likely swung east after all."
"Least now we can be waiting for him," Qutar consoled.
"Betcha life," Franklin retorted.

.....

Amad smelled a rat.
He surveyed the house where his cousin lived from a distance of two hundred yards. The engine of the jeep was quietly ticking over, and after a few moments of thought, Amad switched the keys in the ignition, silencing it completely. He couldn't understand the uncanny silence. Amad knew his cousin to be a rambunctious character with nine kids and it was unusual for the house to be so silent. Amad climbed warily out of the jeep and the revolver he'd taken from the dead Qutari soldier snaked into his hand.
In journeying from Rumah to Ma'qala the truck he'd boarded hadn't come across any checkpoints, and had allowed him to snatch a few hours of sleep. He had abandoned the truck when it appeared to be heading north to Wabra. Amad suspected from reports that the Americans were in that sector, and he wanted to avoid them if possible. He'd passed through Ma'qala virtually unseen and had trekked to the outskirts of the town when talk reached him of a Qutari camp there. Troops meant transport. He'd taken the Qutari soldier out quietly, quickly and efficiently as the man lounged against his jeep munching a snack.
Now studying his cousin's house with a narrowed gaze he sensed danger. It was a sense he'd developed as a spy in those lean, dangerous years in Tehran, and a feeling he trusted as implicitly as his own life. A shadow crossed his cousin's window and Amad frowned.
He edged back, entering a nearby alley behind him, scurrying parallel to the street on which his cousin lived. He sidled up against the window frame of the house which faced opposite his cousin, and froze. Three Saudi soldiers and an American female corporal were facing away from him, staring intently at his cousin's house across the street. Amad blessed his fortune moments later when the corporal swung away and came out back. He put the gun to her temple and muttered harshly in English: "Not a word."
He saw the corporal's eyes open wide in surprise and her mouth open as though to scream. Amad clamped the scream by placing his hand over her mouth and gouging the gun deeper into her head. He felt no compunction because of her sex, to his eyes she was an enemy soldier. Amad had seen the women units of his own army in combat situations, and he knew they were a force to be feared in that once engaged they took no prisoners. He forced Jones away from the building, half-prodding, half-dragging her along the alleyway. They'd reached the jeep without being challenged when suddenly a radio strapped to Jones's waist burst into electrifying life.
"Jones, Franklin here. Radio check!"
Amad replaced his revolver for the more terrifying sight of the bayonet and growled: "Answer him. No funny stuff."
Jones brought the walkie-talkie to her lips and acknowledged: "Got you loud and clear, Captain."
Suddenly there were panicked shouts from down the street, and Amad guessed she'd tricked him in some fashion. About to waste her he had a better idea. He'd hold her as a hostage, using her as a ticket to freedom until he reached Khafji. Men came running up the alleyway and Amad gunned down the three Saudi soldiers who'd earlier been with the gutsy corporal.
Jones was needled into the jeep, still threatened by the wicked bayonet and Amad forced her to drive, nicking her cheek with the wicked point to show he meant business and would not tolerate a second disobedience. The jeep careened around the corner sending Franklin, Qutar, and half a dozen other soldiers scurrying desperately out of its path as Jones went down on the accelerator.