Guardian Read Online Free PDF

killing.
    Kitra scanned the chest of everyone they passed, reading name tags. If they did not wear any, she listened to their conversations, hoping to hear a first name beginning with an A. No luck, though.
    After a few minutes the three of them stood in the middle of the site next to a ­couple of enormous sewer pipes staged to be lowered into a long trench. Kitra studied the channel for a second, then looked around.
    So this is where the Marines were attacked a ­couple of weeks ago, she thought. The intelligence reports she had read indicated an insurgent versus Marine engagement. But what was so important about sewer pipes in the middle of nowhere to risk so many men in such a large-­scale assault? Especially a site nowhere close to fully functioning? She made a mental note to ask Glenn what truly had happened here.
    Kitra wiped her forehead with the khaki cloth, then the back of her neck and her face. Even after a career in the region, she’d never gotten accustomed to the heat. Brutal and oppressive and, in her opinion, unholy. The Mediterranean climate of Haifa suited her best. Haifa, where she’d retire soon.
    Soon.
    â€œCan I help you?”
    Kitra turned. An Iraqi wearing a hard hat and safety glasses stared at her. Sweat had soaked through almost every inch of the man’s clothing. On his vest he wore a name tag: a. haddad.
    Thank you for saving me time, Kitra thought.
    â€œYes, you can,” she said. She glanced at Simon on her right and gave a slight nod.
    Simon moved fast, his Jericho 941 nine-­millimeter pistol drawn and pushed into Haddad’s side. He used his body to shield the gun from anyone else’s sight.
    â€œWhat is this?” Haddad asked.
    Kitra studied the man’s eyes. The pupils dilated and the eyelids expanded. He was frightened.
    Isaac sidled close to Kitra and said, “There is an empty container box over there.”
    Kitra saw it was one of the long metal containers common on cargo ships, probably used to transport equipment to the site. It was not in the best location for her purposes, but it would do. This would not take long.
    â€œTake him there,” she said.
    Isaac headed for the metal container as Simon turned Haddad and pushed the pistol into his back. “Move.”
    Kitra followed, making sure none of the workers grew suspicious and decided to pursue them. None did. All seemed focused on their work.
    Inside the container, the temperature increased about thirty degrees. Isaac removed a flashlight from his pocket and shined it on Haddad while Simon secured his hands together with Flex-­Cuffs. Kitra pulled the doors to the container shut and blackness enveloped them.
    The small beam of light illuminated Haddad’s face and nothing more. His eyes grew wider and his breaths increased. Sweat gushed from his face and neck. They could see him, but all he could see was the beam of a high-­intensity tactical light hitting him square on the nose.
    â€œWhere is he?” Kitra said in Arabic.
    â€œI do not know what you are talking about.”
    Kitra removed her Spyderco Chinook knife and flipped open its curved blade. It made a loud snap that echoed off the metallic walls. “Where is he?”
    â€œI do not know—­”
    â€œWe do not have time for this. Tell us.”
    â€œI do not—­”
    Kitra grabbed Haddad’s right hand with her left and extended his pinky. Simon held Haddad steady, preventing him from pulling the hand away while Kitra pressed the edge of the blade against the skin. Two quick strokes and the finger was severed.
    Haddad screamed until Isaac stuffed the flashlight in his mouth. It sounded like a muffled wail in a coffee can. He stopped screaming, then Isaac removed the light and shined it on the bleeding stump where Haddad’s pinky had been a moment before.
    â€œWhere is he?” Kitra asked.
    â€œI—­I—­” Haddad sucked in a great lungful of air. Saliva