Alone and Unafraid (American Praetorians Book 3) by Peter Nealen Page A
Authors: Peter Nealen
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“That goes for your people, too. Put some patrols out there; only make sure they don’t come back. This has to happen a little bit at a time; a major exodus is just going to be a target.” I pulled out one of the overheads, and pointed to the spot we’d already chosen as a rendezvous. “We’ll meet up here, at this truck lot just outside Ad Dayr. I’ve had Hassan run up there and start laying the groundwork, so the owners aren’t going to raise any kind of fuss.”
“When did that happen?” Eddie asked.
“About a month ago,” I replied. Eddie’s eyebrow rose, then he grinned. Hassan murmured an explanation to Hussein Ali, who also nodded, an amused glint in his eyes. Damn right I thought ahead, motherfuckers.
“How soon do we move?” Mike asked.
“I want your team moving out before the sun’s up,” I told him. “If any of the PPF asks, you’re running down a lead on some ISIS fighters who are trying to come in from the north.” I was pretty sure none of the PPF troops would muster up that kind of curiosity at four in the morning, but it was always a good idea to have a cover story. “Get out, get up to Ad Dayr, and lay low. Rendezvous will be at 2100 tonight.” I wanted it to be dark when the better part of a short company showed up. I turned to Hussein Ali. “Can you get the first of your people out before sunrise?”
He nodded as soon as Hassan translated. “I have told them to be ready to leave ever since Daoud first spoke with Saleh’s people,” he said. “It was not difficult to foresee where these events were going to go. I can have the first ten away by dawn.”
I nodded. We went over a few more details, mainly concerning link-up procedures both in Ad Dayr and in Baghdad, in case we had to push on without meeting up beforehand. One of the things we’d all learned over the last couple of years was to always, always be ready for everything to go to shit. Murphy is a persistent bastard.
It was almost four before we broke up. Mike and his team were actually not with the rest of us at the police station; they were still holed up in the old abandoned warehouse in Al Maamel where Al Hakim’s militias had first set up their firm base. They would roll out as soon as Mike and Eddie got back to them. There still should be enough darkness to see them clear of the city before sunrise.
Meanwhile, I brought my guys in to brief them.
“What the fuck?”
Cyrus had been getting more and more unhappy as I outlined what was going to happen. He’d been a little sullen ever since Mike and I rearranged the teams; he’d liked it where he was, and didn’t want to change. Now he was downright livid.
“Are you fucking serious?” he asked. “Our little vendetta against these black-ops guys isn’t enough; now we’re contracted to go into fucking Baghdad, where just coincidentally, everything is going to shit worse than it is here, just to continue to carry it on? I mean, what, seriously, is our beef with these guys? What is so bad about what they’re doing that we’ve got to risk our skins to stop it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Cyrus,” Larry said sarcastically. “Maybe it has something to do with supporting the nastiest group of jihadis in the region? The same cocksuckers who stone women and behead people for looking at them wrong? Some of the same motherfuckers who have been killing Americans at every chance since 9/11?”
Cyrus snorted. “Fucking please. There hasn’t been enough of an American presence in this country in the last few years for them to worry about. And don’t try to tell me that you think Al Hakim and his cronies are some sort of pure as the driven snow Boy Scouts. They’re not, any more than we are. And we’ve sure done some shady shit in the last few months to get at the Iranians. These guys are just taking that to the next level. Not our problem. Helping one bunch of fucked up hajjis
“When did that happen?” Eddie asked.
“About a month ago,” I replied. Eddie’s eyebrow rose, then he grinned. Hassan murmured an explanation to Hussein Ali, who also nodded, an amused glint in his eyes. Damn right I thought ahead, motherfuckers.
“How soon do we move?” Mike asked.
“I want your team moving out before the sun’s up,” I told him. “If any of the PPF asks, you’re running down a lead on some ISIS fighters who are trying to come in from the north.” I was pretty sure none of the PPF troops would muster up that kind of curiosity at four in the morning, but it was always a good idea to have a cover story. “Get out, get up to Ad Dayr, and lay low. Rendezvous will be at 2100 tonight.” I wanted it to be dark when the better part of a short company showed up. I turned to Hussein Ali. “Can you get the first of your people out before sunrise?”
He nodded as soon as Hassan translated. “I have told them to be ready to leave ever since Daoud first spoke with Saleh’s people,” he said. “It was not difficult to foresee where these events were going to go. I can have the first ten away by dawn.”
I nodded. We went over a few more details, mainly concerning link-up procedures both in Ad Dayr and in Baghdad, in case we had to push on without meeting up beforehand. One of the things we’d all learned over the last couple of years was to always, always be ready for everything to go to shit. Murphy is a persistent bastard.
It was almost four before we broke up. Mike and his team were actually not with the rest of us at the police station; they were still holed up in the old abandoned warehouse in Al Maamel where Al Hakim’s militias had first set up their firm base. They would roll out as soon as Mike and Eddie got back to them. There still should be enough darkness to see them clear of the city before sunrise.
Meanwhile, I brought my guys in to brief them.
“What the fuck?”
Cyrus had been getting more and more unhappy as I outlined what was going to happen. He’d been a little sullen ever since Mike and I rearranged the teams; he’d liked it where he was, and didn’t want to change. Now he was downright livid.
“Are you fucking serious?” he asked. “Our little vendetta against these black-ops guys isn’t enough; now we’re contracted to go into fucking Baghdad, where just coincidentally, everything is going to shit worse than it is here, just to continue to carry it on? I mean, what, seriously, is our beef with these guys? What is so bad about what they’re doing that we’ve got to risk our skins to stop it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Cyrus,” Larry said sarcastically. “Maybe it has something to do with supporting the nastiest group of jihadis in the region? The same cocksuckers who stone women and behead people for looking at them wrong? Some of the same motherfuckers who have been killing Americans at every chance since 9/11?”
Cyrus snorted. “Fucking please. There hasn’t been enough of an American presence in this country in the last few years for them to worry about. And don’t try to tell me that you think Al Hakim and his cronies are some sort of pure as the driven snow Boy Scouts. They’re not, any more than we are. And we’ve sure done some shady shit in the last few months to get at the Iranians. These guys are just taking that to the next level. Not our problem. Helping one bunch of fucked up hajjis
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