Free Oath to Defend by Scott Matthews Page B

of at the research station: the two students; El Verdugo and his bodyguard; Saleem Canaan, the Hezbollah commander and himself. When the helicopter returned, the pilot would make seven unless the pilot brought others back with him. If they wanted to take the nuke for themselves, that’s when they would have to make a move. He wasn’t worried about Saleem, as they were fighting the same war, but a nuke delivered on a silver platter to the cartel without costing them a cent was a huge temptation.
    The Quonset hut, which was newer than it looked, was divided into sleeping quarters plus a large open area for the kitchen and one long, wooden table scarred with the carved initials and the cigarette burns left by past guests. A large marine propane heater was mounted to the bulkhead that separated the eating and sleeping areas on one side of a door to the rear of the hut. To the right of the door was a locked metal cabinet that he guessed served as the research station’s armory . A couple well-worn couches were positioned in front of the propane heater.
    Barak walked through the sleeping quarters, inspecting ten small rooms, five on each side, each equipped with an army cot, a metal wardrobe locker, and a plain wooden night stand with a lamp. All of the rooms were empty. At the end of the hallway was a military-style latrine with two shower stalls, five sinks with mirrors, and two toilets. There were two windows on the rear wall on each side of the row of sinks. These windows opened outward from the bottom as far as short chains attached to them would allow.
    He chose the room closest to the latrine on the right side of the hut and lay down on the cot without undressing. He kept the Beretta 92 he had carried throughout the Middle East, from the time he had first served the Brotherhood, in his right hand alongside his leg. His plan was, when the others were asleep, to slip outside through one of the windows in the latrine. For now, he wanted to appear to be tired and unconcerned for his safety. But he still made sure his gun was loaded.
    It was midnight when the other men entered the Quonset hut. He heard them laughing, tequila slurring their words, and then heard doors opening and closing in the rooms down the hallway. He heard three doors close. That left two men or boys still up. They were the ones he would wait for.

 
    16
    When Major Castillo returned them to the Tijuana International Airport, Casey watched Drake thank him and Special Agent Cooper for their help. Then they headed straight for the Gulfstream. Once inside, Drake called Liz Strobel at DHS.
    “We missed him, Liz. We flew in Black Hawks and killed a lot of cartel soldiers defending the villa, but Barak wasn’t there. He’d been tipped off, and I have no idea where he is now. Unless you have something, I’m heading home.”
    Casey took off his vest and sat down across from Drake, who was angrier, in a cold, silent way, than he’d ever seen him.
    “So where is he now?” he was asking Liz. “If your satellite tracked the helicopter to the coast, where did it go from there?” Drake stood up. He looked like he was about to hurl his cell phone at the bulkhead in front of him. “With a hundred satellites at your disposal,” he said, “you only had one trained on the villa? Unbelievable! I thought you agreed this guy was top priority.”
    Drake walked to the rear of the plane’s cabin and back. When he sat down again, Liz’s voice was loud enough for Casey to hear.
    “… ever talk to me that way again! I helped you every step of the way, and I don’t need your whining. You missed him, not me. Maybe if we had used our people, he’d be on his way to Gitmo by now.”
    Drake shook his head at the phone. “Fine,” he said. “Go find someone to drop everything and chase Barak like I did. By the time you guys got your act together, he could be on the moon!” He slammed the phone shut.
    Casey waited for him to calm down. Finally, Drake took a deep breath