The three-star said, “But the kill was still made. Under the, um, unusual circumstances I’d say that was the finest hit I’ve ever, well, not seen.”
“Same for me,” said the DHS director.
“And me,” added Potter lamely, which drew a long glare from Tucker.
“Robie and Reel deserve this country’s thanks,” said the three-star firmly.
The DHS director added, “And we’ll see that they get it.”
“If they get out of Syria,” said the three-star darkly.
If they get out of Syria alive, thought Tucker.
CHAPTER
84
OTHER THAN NORTH KOREA AND IRAN, Syria was arguably the most difficult country in the world to escape from for a westerner.
Foreigners were inherently suspect.
Americans were hated.
American operatives who had just killed a potential Syrian leader were good for only one thing: execution and then being dragged through the streets headless.
The only positive element was that Syria’s borders were not secure. They were flimsy and ever-changing, just as the politics of the moment were, in one of the countries constituting the “cradle of civilization.”
Robie and Reel understood this fully.
They had a chance, a slender one.
Reel had delivered the kill shot from a building across the street from where Ahmadi had been about to get into his limo. It would have been easier to don a full burqa face covering and escape that way. However, Syrian women didn’t wear traditional Islamic garb for the most part. And full facial veils had been banned in universities and other public settings by the increasingly secular government, who felt it was a security risk and promoted extremism. Thus putting one on would have been a red flag, not a disguise.
But she could still wear a hijab. This would reveal part of her face, but she had stained it darker and simulated wrinkles and sun damage. And in the long black robe she had incorporated a harness and padding that added about sixty pounds to her frame. She stooped as she walked and looked as though she were about seventy.
She picked up a market basket and left the room, waiting patiently at the elevator with another man who was standing there. The elevator doors opened and she got into the car. It headed down. When it reached the ground floor she stepped off.
She was swept to the side as police flooded the building. They grabbed the man who had been in the elevator car with her and pulled him, as well as several other Syrian men, along with them. They stormed into the elevator and up the stairwell.
Reel waited for a few moments and then continued on. When she got outside, police cars were everywhere. Swarms of people were screaming. People were crying. Others were marching in the streets, chanting.
A car caught on fire. Guns were racked back and fired into the air. Shop windows were smashed. There was a small explosion down the street.
Reel followed another group of women down the street and into an alley.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been unthinkable for men to search a woman on a Syrian public street.
These were not normal circumstances.
Police swept into the alley and started grabbing everyone, pulling at their clothing, looking for weapons or other signs of culpability.
One man had a knife. The police shot him in the head.
A woman ran screaming. She was repeatedly shot in the back and dropped to the pavement with blood pouring from multiple wounds.
The police were now closing in on Reel. She didn’t look like an assassin. She looked like a fat old woman. But the police apparently didn’t care. They were only a few feet from her as she backed away.
Her hand reached inside her basket.
They were just about to surround her, their guns drawn and pointed at her.
Her back was against a brick wall. One of the police reached out to grab her arm. Once they saw the padding, it would all be over. They would shoot her right on the spot.
The loud voice reached to the alley.
The police stopped, turned.
The voice yelled out again and again. In Arabic it said, “We have the shooter! We have the shooter!”
The police turned and ran back down the alley toward the voice.
The crowd closed in on Reel. Sobbing people bent down to the dead bodies.
Reel pushed backward, away from the crowd, and managed to ease into a sliver of a side alley.
She walked quickly down it and reached another street, a busy thoroughfare. A taxi pulled up to the curb and she climbed in.