Chapter 1

 

"Are we sure there's no way we can stop the networks from airing this-this programme?" The President's voice was plaintive.

"I don't see how, Mr. President." The Chief of Staff shook his head sadly. "Even if they agreed, we'd never be able to stop them from disseminating it on the internet-everyone would still see it and we'd look bad for trying to censor it."

The chief executive got up, began pacing in front of his desk. "Do we know who they have?"

"CIA's not sure." The Chief of Staff consulted his notes. "The news agencies don't really cooperate with them-and they never tell anyone when they're going after a 'story'."

"This is going to be a story, all right." The President sighed deeply. "One we're not going to like."

"Two minutes to the broadcast." The White House Communications Director kept his voice low. "Are we going to watch in here?"

"Turn it on." The President sank into his seat. "I sure don't want the kids to see this if it's going to be anything like I think it will be."

"Yes sir." The Communications Director opened the cabinet doors that hid the big LCD screen. "I'll set it up."

"I wish I had a cigarette." The President sighed. "I could really use one right about now."

On screen, the CNN logo appeared followed by a very familiar newscaster who looked dolefully into the camera as he intoned the faithful words: "We switch you now to a feed from Al Jazeera TV..." The picture wobbled, went blank for a moment, then settled into a shot of a figure in a black burkha, complete with hijab and niqab. The camera stayed on the figure as a tall man wearing a robe and the headgear of an Imam stepped into the foreground.

"My God!" The Chief of Staff leaned forward. "That's Abu Nadal! We thought..."

"Shhh!" The President gestured violently. "Let's hear what he has to say."

"Peoples of the decadent West," the man smiled as he took a long step away from the camera toward the initially-seen figure. He grabbed a handful of the back burkha and yanked it toward him. "See how we of Islam treat your painted whores!"

The men in the oval office leaned closer as the black garment fell to the floor. Under it was the naked body of a very pale woman. Her back was against a post of some kind with her arms forced over a cross-bar and her wrists tied in front of her.

The man removed the hijab and niqab.

"I know her..." The President leaned forward, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember. "I met her at a fund raiser in Chicago."

"She's CNBC's top reporter in the mid-east." The Communications Director was biting his lip. "She's been covering the Afghanistan thing from the Arab point of view."

"Then why are they doing this?"

"I don't know..."

"This...female." The man on screen ran a hand over the bound woman's breasts, smiling into the camera. "Came to us in an attempt to spy for the Western Crusaders." His smile grew wider. "This is how we treat such infidels." He motioned and another man appeared-a big man, stripped to the waist and holding...

"What's that in his hand?" The President leaned closer, eyes searching.

"I think it's called a switch." The Chief of Staff sighed. "This is going to be worse than I thought."

On the screen, the speaker took a moment to remove a wad of cloth from the bound woman's mouth-then stepped to one side.

"What is he going to do?" The President looked to his advisors for an explanation.

"Watch." The Chief of Staff bit the word off as the second man swung his arm back. "Just watch."

On the screen the switch whizzed in front of the camera and impacted across the soft belly of the bound women.

She screamed in pain and horror.

 

***

 

Lacey Wilson's eyes widened in horror as she was dragged into a small whitewashed building. She heard some activity to her side and turned her head enough to see what was happening. That's Janet Milton... She saw the wooden wand slash into the bared belly of the girl tied on the other side of the room. Why are they doing that to her? Her mind raced to find some answer as the man holding her pushed her behind the camera. Even as he shoved her against the wall, she couldn't take her eyes off the scene playing out in front of her-as one of her closest friends was tortured by the very people they had both tried to stand up for and help.

The switch exploded across the other girl's belly again; forcing another-louder-shriek from Janet-one that went right into the camera.

Lacey wanted to scream as well-scream at the men to stop hurting her friend, scream for them to untie her. She wanted to scream-but she couldn't. Her mouth was filled to overflowing with bits of wadded up cloth-all held there by a long strip of duct tape wrapped around her head several times.

"S...Stop!" Lacey watched helplessly as her friend fought for control, breasts heaving as she fought the ropes that held her so tightly. "Don't do this to me! I came here..."

The switch fell again-this time across those same bared breasts. Lacey saw the bound girl's hands clench and unclench, fighting the thin cords that bound them together even as she fought with her own bonds, trying to shake herself free.

It was no use. She couldn't move; she could only stand helplessly and watch what was happening to her friend.

The switch fell again, and Janet seemed to lose her mind, dissolving into a frenzied mass of screaming, suffering flesh. Her screams grew louder and more desperate with each blow.

Then she sagged into a dead faint.

Are they going to beat her to death? Lacey's eyes widened at the thought. And what are they going to do with me? She glanced around the little room; saw the bearded figure standing near her. That's Abu Nadal! She knew the face from her sources in the American military. What's he doing here? I thought he was in Lebanon...

Even as the question crossed her mind, Nadal answered it with his action-stepping in front of the camera mounted in front of the suffering girl.

"You have seen what we have done to this one." He nodded to the semi-conscious form behind him. "We can do more." He smiled. "And we have other subjects." He glanced toward Lacey-his eyes burning with a terrible promise-before turning back to the camera. "We will continue these punishments each third day at this time." The smile dissolved. "And we will do so until the forces of the unbelievers are gone from the sacred soil of Islam." He gestured with an open hand. "Until then..."

The camera's red eye went dark.

"So, Ms. Wilson." Nadal stepped to Lacey's side. "I see you too,. were kind enough to accept our invitation." He smiled at the helpless girl. "You will get the story we promised." He ran his hand down her cheek. "Although not in the way you thought." He turned away, gesturing at the man who had brought Lacey into the building. "Put her with the others." He nodded toward the sagging figure on the post. "That one as well."

"Yes, great one." The man bowed his head. "Shall I prepare this one like the others?"

"Yes." Nadal nodded. "Dress her properly-and make sure she is secure."

"It shall be done." The man turned to Lacey, smiling as he grabbed her upper arm. "Come." He pulled her toward him. "This way." She stumbled a bit as he yanked again-then they were going through a barely visible door at the opposite side of the building. As she passed over the threshold, she turned for one last look at Janet-her friend was slumped against the post, eyes closed. She saw a man put a white burkha over the other girl's nakedness-a white burkha that was immediately stained by the blood seeping from the beaten girl's wounds.

"Here is your new home," Lacey's captor led her through a small, completely empty courtyard toward a second whitewashed building a few steps beyond. "You will be fed when the others are fed, bathed when they are bathed."

Others? Lacey's mind raced as she tried to imagine who else could be in this place. My God, how many have they taken?

The door opened and Lacey was pushed inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness-then she saw the other women.

That's Christine! From CNN! She saw the dark-haired woman first. And Kelly... The blonde was next in her sight, and is that Ruth? The redheaded woman had her head turned but Lacey thought it was the reporter from the New York Times. She couldn't see the face of the other girl, just a wild mane of blonde hair. Is that Karen? From CBS? What are they all doing here?

And then she saw what she had not noticed on first glance.

They all have collars around their necks! And chains... The chains ran down to the base of the military-style bunks each woman occupied. They can't move!

Lacey blinked her eyes, taking in all the details. They each have a burkha on-the voluminous garment covered each girl's body, she allowed herself a grim smile. At least they're not being raped!

She shivered as she realized that might well be yet to come.

"This way." Her captor pulled her through the door, leading her down the row of bunks occupied by the other reporters. "Sit right there," he indicated an empty one.

Lacey had little choice. She did as the man said and sat while he fixed a collar around her neck, locking it tight with a small padlock. "You will sit until you are ordered to do otherwise." The man looked into her eyes. "Do you understand?"

Lacey had no choice but to nod assent.

"Good." The man turned away. "I see you are wearing a proper garment," he gestured at the burkha she had donned as a gesture of good faith. "I will need to remove your shoes..." He bent down and pulled up the hem of her burkha. "Excellent!" He smiled as he saw the almost-new sneakers she had put on for the trip. "These may be big enough to fit me!"

Then he was gone, taking her sneakers and socks with him.

I can't believe they're doing this! Lacey's eyes ran up the row of bunks, taking in the slumped figures chained to each one. What do they hope to accomplish?

Then she remembered what Abu Nadal had said to the camera.

They're going to punish us! Her eyes widened. Beat us as they did Janet! She nodded slowly as it all became clear. They're going to use us as a lever-hurt us until the US and NATO back down! She swallowed in fear. Something they'll never do!

She shivered in terror.

 

Chapter 2

 

"I can't believe we just watched that." The President turned away from the television, shaking his head. "It was barbaric!"

"Worse than that." The Chief of Staff had a phone to his ear. "It was seen by half the world." He shook his head. "We're gonna have a hell of a time talking our way out of this one!"

"Why weren't we warned?" The President walked around his desk. "Why didn't the CIA take care of this?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out right now." The Communications Director shook the phone he was holding. "As soon as someone at Langley answers the damn phone!"

"What do we do?" The President sank into his chair. "How can we stop that from happening again?"

"We've got to do something!" The Communications director slammed the phone down. "Right away!"

"I might know someone..." The Chief of Staff looked toward the President. "Someone who did some work for..." He hesitated. "A previous administration." He looked into the President's eyes. "He's the best there is."

"Get him." The President looked at his two aides. "I want to speak to him first thing in the morning."

"He won't speak to you. Sir." The Chief of Staff headed for his office.

"Won't talk to me?"

"Don't worry," the chief looked back over his shoulder. "It's nothing personal." He turned away. "I'll let you know if I can get him to look into this."

"What are you going to do now, Mr. President?" The Communication Director's voice was curious.

"I'm going out on the lawn." The President stepped to the double doors. "And have a smoke!" He looked back at the other man. "Maybe two or three!"

 

***

 

Lacey was stunned as she watched two of the terrorists drag Janet's beaten body into the little room. She's still bleeding! The other girl's garment had long red streaks along the front-streaks that grew bigger as her half-conscious form was tossed onto a bunk and immediately collared and secured. They're not even going to wash off her wounds! She stared at the two men as they finished securing the beaten girl in place. I know one of them... She tried to recall where she had met him. I think it was... She blinked as the memory finally came clear. It was in Iraq!

 

In college, Lacey had been a firm supporter of the Israelis in their apparently never-ending war against the Palestinians. She had done a number of papers on the subject-papers good enough to get her a job at one of the online news organizations. While working for that group, she had the opportunity to talk to some Palestinians-and, for the first time, got their view of what was happening to them-and what part the US played in it.

She began to doubt the official position.

When the second Iraq war broke out, she was well-known enough to get a job covering operations in Baghdad for one of the cable news networks. After a few weeks, she grew tired of seeing only the things the US Army wanted her to see. I had a few contacts in Gaza by that time, and they said they could point me to someone who could help me see the truth.

A few days later, Khalid had approached her in her Green Zone hotel and offered to help. He took me to several refugee camps, introduced me to men who claimed that US had tortured them for information. She remembered the scars she had been shown-scars not unlike the ones Janet was now carrying. I interviewed them; put them on the air...

It made her career. Half of America thought her a hero for revealing the corruption of the US Military-the other half wanted her hanged for Treason. I thought I was seeing the truth, thought that a country as powerful as the US must be in the wrong when they fought someone smaller...

She ended up as one of the top mid-east reporters on CNBC, not the biggest of the cable news giants, but big enough to get her noticed. Iraq wound down and the war moved to Afghanistan where she found herself covering the same kinds of stories day after day. Then I was approached by a representative from the Taliban. Her brow furrowed, at least he told me he was from the Taliban.

The man had offered her the opportunity to meet with the opposition's leadership-learn the true story of what was happening in the tribal areas.

I couldn't resist that!

She had slipped away from her quarters, wearing a burkha and headdress she had purchased in a local bazaar. Her contact met her at the edge of the US encampment. He led her into a small village. She thought she'd be doing the interview there, but he told her she had to travel into the hills-where the leadership felt safe from any treachery.

They got into a smallish car hidden at the edges of the village, driving for several hours and past several guard posts until they were deep in the mountains.

That was when he turned on her, smiling as he showed her the gun in his left hand. She had thought about fighting, but realized it would do her no good-even if she won. I was miles away from any friendly forces. She remembered that realization. With no way to find my way back.

I just sat there and stared at him-then, when he pulled out the rope, I turned my back toward him, let me tie my wrists. He'd used thin cord-cord that cut deep into her skin, hurting enough to make her wince.

Then he stuffed all that crap into my mouth, she bit into the mass that was still there. And taped it in place.

Her silence had been ensured.

He put that headdress over my head then-the one the Arab women wear when they go to market. This headdress had one difference-the eye-slit had been covered with a dense, black cloth.

Lacey had been left blind and dumb. Her captor had then fastened a seat belt around her, one that, with hands bound behind, she couldn't release.

Only then did he again start the motor and continue the drive.

I don't know how far we came. Sweat had flowed down Lacey's face in the overheated confines of the hood as she realized just how helpless she was--unable to see or move and with no one knowing where she was.

Hours dragged by as the car droned on.

Then, all too suddenly, the car ground to a halt and the headdress was ripped from Lacey's head. She saw a flash of white-washed stone as she was dragged inside-- and forced to watch Janet being whipped.

Now she found herself collared like an animal in a tiny room-waiting her own turn to be savaged by these men.

And one of them was approaching her.

"The Imam wishes to see you." The man clipped a leash of some sort to the collar around her neck before releasing the chain that held her to the bed. "Come with me."

He gave her little choice, tugging at the leash as he went, leading her past the pitying eyes of the other women and out into the little courtyard. They didn't go into the building where the torture had taken place; instead, he led her through past the little pool of water that lay hidden on one side of the courtyard next to an arch that masked another, smaller, dwelling.

Inside, Lacey noted a level of comfort the other buildings lacked. There was a television in one corner and a comfortable-looking couch facing it. There was also a high-backed chair-and it was to that chair her escort led her, forcing her to her knees in front of it before stepping to the side, the leash held slackly in his hand.

"You are Lacey Wilson." Abu Nadal made it a statement, smiling. "My men tell me that you were once a friend to the people of Islam."

Lacey knelt mutely, unable to speak around the gag that filled her mouth nearly to overflowing.

"You may be of some assistance." He leaned forward, ran a hand down her cheek. "Your voice carries some weight in your homeland." He raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps your screams will convince them to abandon this futile war."

He's really going to do it! Lacey hadn't believed it before this moment. He's going to beat me just like he beat Janet! She felt herself begin to shiver in fear. He's going to beat me!

"Before you join the other infidels," Nadal ignored her obvious fear. "You must be purified and washed." He motioned to the man who had brought her into the room. "As you have no relative here, I, as Imam, must take responsibility for you." He gestured from Lacey to the other man. "I am going to give Assam here responsibility for your care." He touched Lacey's chin, made sure she was looking into his eyes. "It will be his responsibility to keep you clean and fed for the length of your stay here-do you understand?"

She nodded, mind dulled by everything that had happened to her.

"He will see that you are properly washed, and then take you back to the house of women." He kept staring at her. "Is that also clear?"

Again, she nodded.

"Good." He leaned back and smiled. "I think we will leave your punishment until last-it is only fair as you were the last to arrive." He leaned forward again, holding her eyes. "But you will watch each of the punishments that proceeds your own-as will all the infidel women." He smiled. "I may let you talk to your government-beg for their understanding-and our mercy." He made a dismissive motion to her escort. "Now go-bathe yourself, prepare for what is to come."