Clandestine-IsaacHooke-FreeFollowup by Isaac Hooke Read Free Book Online Page B

returned the phone numbers of three local smugglers. So I called one and set us up. By the way, we're not supposed to dress too traditionally during the crossing. We draw less attention that way."
    "What about weapons?" Ethan said, glancing at Aaron's backpack.  
    "Not allowed."
    "What do you mean? Not even pistols?"
    "We won't get through if we bring weapons of any kind," Aaron said. "According to the recruiter, IS will provide assault rifles anyway."  
    "Assault rifles?" William asked suspiciously. "What kind of assault rifles?"
    "AK-47s."
    William threw up his hands. "I'm so sick of those damn things. I've never fired a more inaccurate rifle in my life. I'll take an M16 any day of the week over an AK."  
    Aaron shrugged. "Hey, we're clandestine operatives now, not the pampered spec-ops soldiers we once were." He returned Ethan's Android.
    "You never know how good you have it until you give it up," William bemoaned.
    Ethan unlocked the phone, navigated to Apps, and swiped to the last screen. He saw the green, flamelike icon for Amn al-Mujahid but nothing else. The icons for the other new apps would be hidden, he knew.  
    Aaron showed him how to use the hidden apps.
    "That leaves only one more question," Ethan said when they were done. He snatched the greasy bag from the table but it proved empty. "When do we get more baklavas?"

seven
     
    A aron called the people smuggler shortly thereafter and arranged for transport early the next morning. Ethan spent the rest of that day exploring Gaziantep and eating the baklavas and pistachios the city was famous for. He slept well that night, the last good rest he would have for quite a while, and at five a.m. checked out.  
    Like him, the other operatives were dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, with their keffiyehs stowed away. For Ethan, it was odd removing the headgear after all that time, and he felt almost naked without it. But the goal was to look like an ordinary Syrian or Turk at the border crossing, so the keffiyeh had to go.  
    It was still dark out when a brand new supermini Renault Clio pulled into the loading area.
    "That's our ride," Aaron said.
    "Apparently smuggling pays off," William said.
    "If you knew how much I paid the man," Aaron grinned. "You'd quickly realize we were in the wrong business."
    A Turk got out, introducing himself as Maaz. He opened the Renault's rear hatch and the three of them stowed their backpacks inside.  
    "Take these." Maaz distributed three travel documents.
    Ethan accepted his. It was a Syrian passport. He opened to the photo page. The same picture he had on his Saudi passport was on it, though the keffiyeh had been edited out.
    "Come here." Ethan angrily led Aaron away from the others. When he was out of earshot, he said, "You gave this man my photo?"  
    Aaron shrugged. "He needed it to make the passports."
    "I don't want my picture in some terrorist computer network."
    Aaron shook his head. "These smugglers are disorganized as hell. Your picture won't be showing up on any terrorist networks anytime soon, trust me."
    Ethan was about to argue his point, but he let it go. Aaron was probably right.
    "Besides, he's just a people smuggler," Aaron continued. "Only loosely related to the Islamic State."
    "Yeah? Bet he's on the White House kill list somewhere."
    "Probably. "  
    Ethan returned to the vehicle and sat in the cramped passenger seat, nearly banging his head on the upper frame of the door in the process. William and Aaron took the backseats and the journey south began.  
    "Where are you from?" Maaz said in a colloquial, difficult to understand Arabic.  
    "Saudi Arabia," Ethan answered.
    Maaz nodded. "You will love it in Shaam."
    "You live there?" Ethan said.
    The smuggler chuckled. "No. My calling is here, in Turkey. To help men like you make their hegira. I am too old for the Caliphate."
    "You can't be more than forty," Ethan said.
    "My point exactly. They need young men. Men who can fight. All the administrative positions are