THE RECRUIT
By; Gerald A. Polley
Chapter 9
Screaming and shouting started around them. He heard gunshots and
knew it had to be the defenders because his people's weapons all had
silencers. He opened a door and rushed in the room. A man
was getting out of bed. Imal swung his rifle over his shoulder, grabbed
the man, spun him around, pushed him back down on the bed and had him
handcuffed before the man could even realize what was happening.
"Cardinal Witherspoon!" Imal snapped, "In the name of The Republic I
place you under arrest for crimes against humanity! You are to be
returned to our territory for judgment. You have the right to
remain silent. If you forgo that right anything you say may be
used against you. You have a right to an attorney. If you
desire one one will be appointed to you. Do you understand those
rights?"
"You have no right to do anything
with me!" the man snapped. "I am a servant of God! You are
an infidel, a non believer. You have no authority over me,
whatsoever!"
Imal hauled him up.
"We'll see about that!" he snapped. He dragged him out
towards the door. The Death commander was waiting.
"Structure secure!" he snapped. "There were 18 of them, 7 of them
are now dead. We've captured a nurse. There's something else. We
have a problem."
There were two soldiers
nearby. "Take this!" Imal snapped. "Somebody go get his
clothes and get him dressed. If he's uncooperative do whatever
you need to do to make him cooperative."
"Yes sir!" both men snapped.
Imal was led to a large open room. Eleven men sat on the floor,
handcuffed and gagged. What else was in the room appalled Imal,
naked young girls, some of them perhaps eleven and twelve, and very
pregnant! "There's twenty-two of them," the Death commander
remarked. "They all seem to be retarded. We haven't had an
opportunity to question anyone. But this woman seems to be in
charge of them."
Imal looked at the woman. She cowered under his gaze. "What is this?" he asked.
"They were going to sneak them across the border into your territory,"
the woman explained, "surgically remove their babies and let them bleed
to death, then UN workers sympathetic to our cause, were going to find
the facilities, make it public, blame your people."
"That's insane!" Imal managed. "That's absolutely insane!"
"Yes," the woman answered. "I didn't know their intent until
recently. I thought they were going to make the girls public and
claim it was your people's work. I swear to God I didn't know
they intended to kill them! I know it doesn't mean much, but I am
speaking the truth!"
Imal shook his head.
"With her and the cardinal," he moaned, "that makes twenty-four.
Six too many. We only have eighteen seats. Crap!
Well, there's nothing for it. It's four hours drive to the
border, sixty miles an hour. Six of us are going to have to make
a run for it on the ground. There's plenty of vehicles here, but
getting these girls to safety is the priority. I'll stay with the
ground forces. Go see if you can find them some clothes! These
bastards must have some extra shirts. Get them some kind of covering!"
While they were talking one of the girls had slipped over to the
prisoners and was undoing one of the men's gags. A soldier saw
her and cried out "No no, precious! He's got nothing to say to
us." But the man managed to spit out the gag and say "Yes I
do! Please! I can help you. I know the way to the
border. I know all the mine fields. It will take you
longer, more like five hours if I'm with you! If you get lost or
hit one of the mine fields... I really can help! All I ask is
that you give me some work somewhere and, a house so I can take care of
her. They made me impregnate her. She's carrying my child.
When I found out what they were intending I was trying to find a way to
get her out, too. Please! I can help you!"
The girl looked up at Imal with big, pleading eyes. "Do you know
where the vehicles are kept?" Imal asked.
"Yes!" the man answered.
"Get the handcuffs off him!" Imal snapped. He pointed to one of the
soldiers. "Go with him. Get a vehicle. Let's get these girls to
the planes!"
He motioned the Death officer
over. "Just as soon as we get the girls out of here, I'll take
care of the prisoners. No arguments, it's my
responsibility. You have the injection gun?"
The officer took the device from the holder on his side. "I'm not
sure there's enough in there!" he remarked.
Imal nodded, checked the gauge on the injector. It said
eight. He sighed. As soon as everybody was cleared out he
walked to the prisoners who were looking at him in horror. One by
one he used the injector until it was empty. Then he drew his
pistol and finished with that. None of them even struggled.
They just waited their turn, probably realizing it would be more
comfortable that way. They had brought some charges. Imal
activated them, scattered them around the complex, then rushed out to
the vehicle. As he climbed in he noticed the back of it was full
of boxes. "What's that?" he asked.
"Don't know!"
the driver answered. "Some of the cardinal's stuff. I
figured we couldn't take the time to unload it."
"Right!" Imal answered, "Go!"
They sped away. They had gone only a little ways when one after
another the planes flew over. "They're safely away!" Imal
sighed. "Now let's hope we are! I don't think we want to be
caught."
"No!" the driver answered.
"Considering I have the feeling you just executed the president's
nephew, I don't think we want to be caught!"
"What?" Imal asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Would it have made any difference?" the man inquired.
Imal thought a moment then answered "No, it wouldn't have had! I
don't like to die with somebody I don't even know his name."
The driver looked embarrassed. "Rumple," he finally blurted, "Rumple Kamir."
"Rumple?" Imal asked.
"Like Rumple Stilskin," the man continued.
"Oh!" Imal grinned. They sped on through the night.
"Observation calling, sir!" the Death officer spoke up, "They say the
charges went off in the facility. But they think we may have
picked up pursuit. Suddenly three vehicles have appeared behind
us. They must've been camping somewhere along the road.
They saw their heat signatures as they started up and came after us."
Imal looked to the driver. "No idea!" the driver snapped.
"Could be anti smuggler patrol, or, smugglers."
"Are they gaining?" Imal asked.
The Death officer listened for a few moments, then answered "No, sir,
they seem to be slowly falling behind us."
"Good!" Imal answered. "Let's not worry about it. As long as we keep
ahead of them I'm not going to challenge."
The
hours dragged by. "Sir!" the Death officer again spoke, "Aircraft
coming! Fighters! Air cover going to intercept."
"Well, they definitely know we're headed for the border!" Imal snapped.
"I definitely don't think our pursuers are smugglers! They
wouldn't have called for aircraft."
A few minutes
later they saw flashes in the sky behind them. Imal had a feeling
the Iranian aircraft had equipment malfunctions and had crashed in the
desert. They were gettiing close to the border when the driver
went off the main road and took a rough track that ran parallel to
it. "What are you doing?" Imal asked.
"Mine
field!" the driver answered. "Main road is mined. I saw the
marker back there. You use these dirt tracks to bypass the mined
section."
Imal sighed. "These people
play dirty!" he remarked, "Mining their own roads? Is there any
place," he asked "we can cross the border, except the regular check
points?"
"I know of one," the driver answered.
"Make for it!" Imal ordered.
Suddenly there were horrendous explosions behind them. "Oh
oh!" the driver muttered. "I don't think our pursuers knew about
the mine field!"
Imal grinned. "Definite possibility!" he agreed.
It was beginning to get light when they went down a ravine and came to
a tunnel that had bars across it. "River," the driver
remarked. "I'll need somebody to help me."
One of the soldiers got out with him. In a couple of minutes they had
removed three of the bars blocking the tunnel. The driver climbed
back in, drove the vehicle through, then put the bars back. "I
don't think we want them to know we went this way," he remarked, as he
climbed back in. There were more bars on the other end of the
tunnel. The process was repeated. Then they leisurely made
their way to the road and headed for the base. Imal looked at the
driver. "How did you know which way to go?" he asked.
"Oh!" the man answered, "We know where everything is over here. Saw a
news report about you stopping the suicide attack. So I figured
that's where you came from."
"That's very
interesting to know!" Imal muttered. "I think it's something our
superiors should know. You don't seem a bad sort, Rumple!"
"Most of my people aren't!" the man answered. "It's only a few of
us that are fanatics. There's another small favor I'd like to ask
of you."
"What?" Imal asked.
"I'm sure you're going to want to pick up the UN people," Rumple
continued. "I'd like to be with the people that do it. It's
a personal thing."
Imal looked back to the Death
commander. "Could always use some support troops!" the man
commented. I'm sure we can arrange it!"
Imal nodded. No verbal order was necessary, and Imal understood
the man's desires exactly. An escort picked them up, vehicles
with flags waving surrounded them. They entered the base with
troops at attention on both sides of the roadway. "Oh dear!" Imal
sighed. "I wish they wouldn't make a big deal out of this!"
They were stopped at the gate. An officer came up to Imal. "You,
sir," he snapped, "are to be dropped off at your home. You have
previously assigned duties this afternoon. You are ordered to get
some sleep! You will be debriefed in due time."
"Thank you!" Imal snapped. He had to admit it was a great
idea! No questions were asked as he was undressed, showered, and
put to bed. Tabitha joined him. Her presence was a
comfort. When he woke up his wife to be came in in a dressing
gown.
"Just got a message," she remarked,
"something about some boxes in a vehicle. I was told to inform
you twenty million dollars!"
"What?" Imal asked.
"American currency," his wife to be explained, "and bearer bonds.
Apparently the cardinal was his own bank!"
"Well! We brought back some young ladies that were being used for
a horrible purpose. I will petition the other members of the raid
to agree that these funds should go to their support. We'll each get
enough of our share of the reward."
"There's talk
on the news," his wife to be continued, "about the nephew of the
Iranian president being murdered by a suicide squad from The
Republic. You?"
Imal nodded. His wife to be sighed. "Sometimes life's a bitch!" she remarked.
"Sometimes it is!" Imal agreed. "Well!" Sabrina sighed, "See you
in a couple of hours! Mother didn't want me to even come in now."
Imal smiled, stretched and looked at the dress uniform. There
were three ribbons on it, and special operations tags. "I really
don't think that's proper," he muttered, "I really don't!" but he knew
better than complain. He got dressed, got something to eat, and
then it was time! He was more concerned about this mission than
the one he had just gotten back from, far more!
Page 12