Authors: Jason Elam
Blown Coverage
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Blown Coverage
Copyright © 2009 by Jason Elam and Steve Yohn. All rights reserved
.
Cover photograph copyright © by Liquid/Jupiter Images. All rights reserved.
Cover photograph of football player copyright © by Erik Isakson/Getty Images. All rights reserved.
Author photos copyright © 2007 by Stephanie Mack. All rights reserved.
Designed by Dean H. Renninger
Published in association with the literary agency of Yates & Yates, LLP, Attorneys and Counselors, Orange, California.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION
®
. NIV
®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely
coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Elam, Jason.
Blown coverage : a Riley Covington thriller / a Jason Elam and Steve Yohn novel.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4143-1732-8 (sc)
1. Football players—Fiction. 2. Terrorists—Fiction. I. Yohn, Steve. II. Title.
| PS3605.L26B66 2008 | |
| 813'.6--dc22 | 2008038117 |
Printed in the United States of America
15 14 13 12 11 10 09
7 6 5 4 3 2 1
DEDICATION
JASON ELAM
It is to the real Jesus that I dedicate this book.
STEVE YOHN
To my mother,
who instilled in me the joy of reading.
And to my father,
who instilled in me the joy of writing.
Contents
Tuesday, March 31, 8:45 P.M. Cest Babrosty, Poland
Friday, April 24, 11:45 A.M. Crst San José, Costa Rica
Saturday, April 25, 4:18 P.M. Mdt Englewood, Colorado
4:23 P.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
8:41 P.M. Crst Eduardo Castillo Memorial Hospital San José, Costa Rica
Tuesday, May 5, 7:05 P.M. Edt New York City
6:05 P.M. Cdt Chicago, Illinois
5:05 P.M. Mdt Denver, Colorado
4:05 p. m. pdt san francisco, california
Tuesday, May 5, 5:10 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
5:17 P.M. Mdt Denver, Colorado
6:19 P.M. Cdt Chicago, Illinois
Monday, May 11, 8:30 A.M. Mdt Englewood, Colorado
8:45 A.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
Monday, May 11, 9:00 A.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
Monday, May 11, 11:00 A.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Tuesday, May 12, 9:15 P.M. Edt New York City
Tuesday, May 12, 8:30 P.M. Cdt Chicago, Illinois
Tuesday, May 12, 7:45 P.M. Mdt Lone Tree, Colorado
Tuesday, May 12, 7:30 P.M. Pdt San Francisco, California
Wednesday, May 13, 2:30 P.M. Mdt Englewood, Colorado
Thursday, May 14, 12:35 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Thursday, May 14, 3:45 P.M. Mdt Denver, Colorado
Friday, May 15, 5:45 P.M. Edt Philadelphia, Pennsylva Nia
Friday, May 15, 5:30 P.M. Cdt South Bend, Indiana
Friday, May 15, 5:15 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Friday, May 15, 7:30 P.M. Pdt Holly Wood, California
Saturday, May 16, 3:00 A.M. Mdt Sharon Springs, Kansas
Saturday, May 16, 8:45 A.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Saturday, May 16, 5:45 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Saturday, May 16, 9:00 A.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
Saturday, May 16, 10:25 A.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
10:45 A.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
Saturday, May 16, 11:00 A.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Monday, May 18, 2:30 A.M. Cdt Chicago, Illinois
Tuesday, May 19, 3:30 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 6:30 A.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 7:00 A.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 5:45 P.M. Istanbul, Turkey
Wednesday, May 20, 2:00 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 3:00 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 3:30 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 8:00 P.M. Edt New York City
Wednesday, May 20, 7:30 P.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Wednesday, May 20, 7:00 P.M. Pdt San Francisco, California
Thursday, May 21, 8:15 A.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Thursday, May 21, 4:15 P.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Thursday, May 21, 4:45 P.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
7:45 P.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Thursday, May 21, 6:45 P.M. Pdt San Francisco, California
7:55 P.M. Mdt Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Friday, May 22, 7:30 A.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Friday, May 22, 6:40 A.M. Pdt San Francisco, California
Friday, May 22, 8:15 A.M. Mdt Parker, Colorado
Friday, May 22, 8:30 A.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
Friday, May 22, 9:00 A.M. Pdt San Francisco, California
Friday, May 22, 11:00 A.M. Mdt Inverness Training Center Englewood, Colorado
Friday, May 22, 7:00 P.M. Edt Wa Shington, D.C.
Friday, May 22, 4:10 P.M. Pdt San Francisco, California
Friday, May 22, 7:00 P.M. PDT San Francisco, California
Friday, May 22, 7:30 P.M. PDT San Francisco, California
Friday, May 22, 11:30 P.M. MDT Silverthorne, Colorado
Saturday, May 23, 4:00 P.M. GMT Over The At Lantic Ocean
Saturday, May 23, 10:15 A.M. MDT Denver, Colorado
Tuesday, May 26, 9:00 P.M. Cest Prague, Czech Republic
Tuesday, May 26, 1:45 P.M. MDT Silverthorne, Colorado
Tuesday, May 26, 10:15 P.M. Cest Ž I Ž Kov Prague, Czech Republic
Wednesday, May 27, 10:15 A.M. MDT Silverthorne, Colorado
Wednesday, May 27, 11:00 A.M. MDT Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
Thursday, May 28, 6:45 P.M. MDT Silverthorne, Colorado
Thursday, May 28, 7:07 P.M. MDT Silverthorne, Colorado
Friday, May 29, 5:30 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Friday, May 29, 10:14 A.M. MDT Front Range Response Team Headquarters Denver, Colorado
7:20 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Friday, May 29, 10:22 A.M. MDT Denver, Colorado
Friday, May 29, 7:35 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Friday, May 29, 7:47 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Friday, May 29, 10:58 A.M. MDT Parker, Colorado
Friday, May 29, 8:05 P.M. Eest Istanbul, Turkey
Friday, May 29, 11:10 A.M. MDT Parker, Colorado
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
L
ORD, WHEN WE ASKED,
Y
OU ANSWERED.
When we trusted, You were faithful. Thank You.
Thanks, also, to our wonderful families. It was your love, patience, advice, and encouragement that kept us going.
We are indebted to LTC Mark Elam for poking holes in our scenarios and filling them with the ways things really work; Troy
Bisgard of the Denver Police Homicide Division for feeding us stories that kept us laughing until we were barely sucking air;
and Afshin Ziafat for keeping us culturally and linguistically accurate.
We can’t leave out Matt Yates and the Yates & Yates team, Karen Watson and our Tyndale House family, and Beverly Rykerd of
Beverly Rykerd Public Relations. A special thanks goes to Jeremy Taylor, editor extraordinaire, who has a gift for taking
a manuscript and bumping it up to the next level.
Finally, to those friends and fans with whom God has graced us, your support has encouraged us and your prayers have sustained
us. We are blessed because of you.
TUESDAY, MARCH 31, 8:45 P.M. CEST
BABROSTY, POLAND
Empty shell casings skittered across the cement floor, propelled by the underside of the mercenary’s boots. As he strode down
the hall, his eyes remained focused on the door at the end of the passageway—no need to look in the rooms to his right or
left; his men were too good to have left any threat on his periphery.
The sooner I deal with this man, the sooner
I’m
out of this stinking cesspool,
thought Lecha Abdalayev, trying hard not to breathe deep the smell of fresh blood and human waste.
Not that he was unfamiliar with those smells. As a veteran of both the First and Second Chechen Wars, he had seen his share of man’s inhumanity against man. He himself
had once been in a situation while a prisoner of the Russians when death would have seemed a much sweeter alternative to what
he experienced in the daily interrogations.
But it
wasn’t
long before I turned the tables and
became the one holding the knife,
he gloated with a self-satisfied grunt.
When he reached the end of the hall, one of the two men walking with him slid a key into the lock on the solid metal cell
door.
“Wait.” Abdalayev took a moment to straighten the black beret that was sitting on his bald head. Then he ran a hand over his
fatigues and smoothed his long, salt-and-pepper beard over his chest. “Okay.”
The lock protested for just a moment; then the large door slid noisily to the left. Immediately, Abdalayev’s senses were violently
assaulted. The smell of human waste that had been strong in the hallway was overwhelming in this room. From somewhere in the
room a blaring children’s song came to an end, then just as quickly began again: “I love you; you love me . . .”
Abdalayev waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brilliance of the four floodlights, then entered the room.
In the middle of the cell sat an ancient-looking man. He was FlexiCuffed by the wrists and ankles to a reversed metal chair,
while a wide fabric belt held his chest tightly against the chair’s back. Except for the restraints, he was completely naked.
The battle-scarred prisoner stared at Abdalayev with his one remaining eye. A crooked smile had spread across his mangled
face. Hanging over his back were two I.V. bags—one attached to a line that went into the man’s arm, the other positioned to slowly
drip down his back. As Abdalayev watched, another drop released from the bag and fell onto a large red welt, causing the old
man to wince and a tear to slide from his good eye. But he never lost his smile.
The Chechen renewed his determination to do this fast and get out. Drawing his pistol, he pointed it toward the prisoner.
Abdalayev was gratified to see the sudden fear in the elder warrior’s face—just a reminder of who was in charge of this operation.
He pulled the trigger, shattering the portable CD player in the back of the room and finally putting an end to the music.
Looking to one of his men, he said, “Cover him.” The soldier pulled a Mylar foil rescue blanket out of his pack and laid it
over the old man’s shoulders. Abdalayev settled his eyes upon the man in the chair. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled out
a photograph. He examined the photo, then held it out so he could see both the picture and the prisoner’s battered face at one time. Satisfied
that they were one and the same, he tucked the picture away.
“My name is Lecha Abdalayev,” the visitor said in accented Arabic. “I am the commander of the Chechen Freedom Militia. We
have been asked by your friends to assist them in retrieving you. Are you able—”
“Where am I?” the prisoner interrupted.
“You are just outside of Babrosty, Poland, in a prison belonging to the American CIA. Now, I respectfully ask you not to interrupt
me. All your questions will be answered in due course. As you can imagine, time now is of the essence.”
The old man nodded his acquiescence.
“It is obvious that you will not be able to travel unassisted. Do I have your permission to immobilize you?” Abdalayev asked,
knowing he was going to do it no matter the answer.
“Do what you must.”
Abdalayev waved to another mercenary who was standing just outside the door. The captive’s eyes grew wide as the soldier walked
rapidly across the room and plunged a large hypodermic syringe into his neck. Immediately, the old man’s head slumped.
“Bundle him up, and let’s go,” Abdalayev commanded, turning to walk away and wondering how much vodka it was going to take
to get this visual out of his mind.
As he left the room, he was forced to step over the body of the man who had been guarding the cell—a quick glance wasn’t enough
to tell Abdalayev whether he had been American or Polish.
Not that it
matters—
although there is something about killing Americans,
he thought with a small smile.
It’s
like the difference between shooting
a common deer and hunting big game.
As he walked, Abdalayev took time to glance at the empty cells around him. Just inside one of these doors, the twisted bodies
of two of his mercenaries and a guard were sprawled on top of each other in a spreading pool of blood that crossed the entire
hall. Abdalayev didn’t bother checking on his men.
Dead or soon to be dead; not much
difference today.
He continued on, leaving a trail of bloody bootprints behind him.
When he reached the main courtyard, the four other Arabs who had been held prisoner at the facility were lined up on their
knees.
“
As-Salamu `
Alaykum
,” he said to them, conveying the traditional Muslim greeting of peace.
“
Wa `Alaykum As-
Salam
,” they replied, a look of hope in their swollen eyes.
Abdalayev briefly studied their faces. It was obvious that these men had been exposed to the same treatment given to the old
man. He said a silent prayer for them, then told the soldier guarding them, “Kill them.”
Abdalayev watched as the men’s souls departed for paradise.
Insha’Allah,
Abdalayev thought,
it was obviously their time. If Allah
has willed, who can change it? Allah wills some to live and some to die,
some to serve and some to be served, some to be soldiers and some to be
victims.
Insha’Allah—
it is as Allah wills.
One thing every young Muslim learned growing up in Chechnya was that Allah often called the few to sacrifice for the many.
These men were too infirm to travel on their own, and he couldn’t just leave them here. The very fact that they were in this
secret prison meant that they had access to vital information. If they were recaptured and put to the same treatment again,
they would break—everyone broke eventually. It was best just to send them to their eternal reward while there was still a
possibility that they might arrive with their honor intact.
When the last of the prisoners had stopped moving, Abdalayev said into his comm, “Finish up. Proceed to the rendezvous point
immediately.” The agreed-upon spot was a large dying oak tree half a kilometer away and just off the road.
After their arrival, the twelve remaining members of Abdalayev’s team would clean themselves up and put on casual business
attire. They would also do their best to make the old man look presentable—
I’m
glad they mentioned the eye patch,
he thought.
From there, the team would divide into groups of four and head northeast for the Belarusian border in three rented Škoda Roomsters. This would hopefully draw any pursuit that might follow. Abdalayev and the former prisoner, meanwhile, would drive a BMW southeast
into Ukraine. The mercenary commander was confident that he could make it across the border with his fake passports. It would
be difficult for the Americans to raise much of an alert. What could they say—“A man who doesn’t officially exist anymore
was stolen from a prison that never existed to begin with”?
If only things had been this easy when he was defending Grozny back in 1996. If that had been successful, then maybe he would
be home right now with a wife and sons instead of here with mud on his hands and blood on his boots.
But, as every Chechen knew, you took Allah’s will as it came. Some days it brought freedom, and another day it brought a bullet in the back of the head for being in the wrong prison at
the wrong time.
Insha’Allah.
Allah knew what was best; blessed be his name.
Today Allah’s will had brought freedom for al-’Aqran, leader of the Cause.