The Monroe Decision Read online

  “This document describes sanctioned slavery within the so-called caliphate.” She scrolled a little further and sat in a chair in front of the computer. “This document is some sort of order to the ISIS leadership that condones the systematic rape and sexual enslavement of non-Muslim women. In fact, it actively encourages it.”

  Aaron placed his hand on the table and leaned over Sarah’s shoulder so he could see the screen.

  “This is such bullshit,” said Sarah. “Look, this section right here says that if a woman is raped by ten Muslim men she will become converted.” She highlighted another section. “Here it describes the establishment of a market for enslaved women within the caliphate where girls are to be bought, sold, and traded among the fighters as commodities or rewards.”

  Aaron placed his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. Her eyebrows were squeezed together to form a crease.

  “It says that these girls are an important part of the ISIS military strategy because it will help keep soldier morale high when faced with dwindling resources to pay the fighters. In fact, it says that a fighter will get more pay if he has more slaves.” She slapped her palms on the table. “This says that the slaves should be forced to take birth control pills every morning so that their utility, dammit this actually says utility, will not be interfered with by pregnancy, and it goes on to direct that the slave owners are encouraged to share their slaves with other fighters to optimize their use during rest periods!”

  Aaron pulled another chair over and sat next to Sarah. “Baby, are you sure you want to see this stuff?” She turned toward him and her eyes glistened.

  “God, Aaron. These poor girls.”

  Aaron placed his hand on the small of her back.

  She opened a video file showing a tall, slim man with long black hair and a long beard. He narrated a graphic video which demonstrated the process of conditioning so-called “new brides” who initially resisted but eventually became complacent as they were repeatedly raped.

  Sarah was fixated on the images of those young girls being gang-raped. Tears dripped down her cheeks, so Aaron placed his hands on both her shoulders and turned her away from the screen. She fell into his arms crying with her head on his shoulder. Aaron turned off the computer and walked her over to the couch and sat next to her.

  “How can they do this? This is horrible. Those poor girls.” Sarah wiped her tears. “How can these ISIS people claim to be legitimate followers of Islam? They are the non-believers. No just God of Islam, or any religion, would ever allow what they do!”

  Aaron held her tight and she cried for more than ten minutes. I’m an idiot. I should never have let her see that.

  “These last forty-eight hours have been a doozy for me,” Sarah said as she sobbed and continued to wipe away tears.

  Aaron sat upright on the couch and Sarah laid down sideways with her head in his lap. He stroked her head gently. “I know. This is a lot to take in,” he said.

  “There’s a lot of bad in the world, isn’t there?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Baby, how do you deal with it?”

  “I don’t know. I just know it exists and I guess I cope by trying to fight it.”

  “Do you ever get used to it?”

  “No. Never.”

  Sarah touched Aaron’s cheek. “I love you,” she said.

  “I’m sorry that I let you see that, but that’s why I do what I do. There are evil people in this world.”

  “I’m glad that I saw it. If those men you killed had anything to do with what was in those documents and on that video, those people were evil. They deserved to be killed.”

  “Yeah, they did.”

  Sarah leaned forward. “Let’s see what’s in the binder.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” replied Aaron.

  Sarah touched Aaron’s hand. “Please!”

  “You sure you want to do that?”

  “Yeah, yeah I am. I can take it and I want to help you.”

  He stood and walked over to the table. Sarah followed. They sat in the two chairs and opened the binder on the table. Sarah started reading.

  “Aaron, this is a ledger.” Sarah slowly read the pages and flipped back and forth through the binder. “Holy shit. There are several sections in this ledger. This section documents how they raised money through oil production. It shows how the Islamic State made sales to Iraqi and Syrian oil traders. Most of these entries are annotated in dollars instead of Syrian or Iraqi currency.”

  “Are there any links or relationships between the sections?”

  “I’m looking at that.” Sarah opened the binder to another section and placed it in front of Aaron. “Here, this section lists hundreds of, I guess, smugglers who bought oil at ISIS-controlled oil fields and moved it to the refineries. Each annotation is noted by a number and the numbers get repeated on different dates.”

  “Those are probably truck numbers. That’s the only way they could move their oil since the major oil companies turned off the pipelines.”

  Sarah turned to another section of the binder. “By using the dollar, it looks like funds were transferred to banks in Europe and America and that allowed ISIS to pay for imported goods through an international network of money changers.”

  “Are there names we can trace?”

  “Not easily.” Sarah continued to flip through the pages and kept referring back to a table of contents. “Oh my god, this section looks like a record of payments to recruiters. The payments are made in differing amounts for men of soldiering age, for young women or young girls, and smaller payments are made for young boys.”

  “Buying and selling slaves.” Aaron walked to the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee.

  “There are references to payments all over Europe,” said Sarah as she stood to join Aaron in the kitchen. “But it looks like the recruiter, or recruiters, in Barcelona are the most active. The most recent entry was ten days ago. Two hundred dollars for each girl.”

  “So that’s the value of a life to ISIS — two hundred dollars.” Aaron placed his cup on the counter and faced Sarah. “I have to go to Barcelona.”

  Sarah leaned her backside on the counter and gripped the overhang with both hands. “And I want to come with you.”

  “No, Sarah, no way. This will be dangerous. I’m not going to risk getting you hurt.”

  “Isn’t that my decision?”

  “Sarah, what are you thinking? You only just learned…”

  She stepped in front of Aaron and interrupted him. “You said this wasn’t personal to you. Well, it is to me. You know that my family was killed by a suicide bomber.”

  “But Sarah.”

  She cut Aaron off again. “You might now wish that I had not seen what I saw today, but I have. And I can’t erase that. I can’t erase how I feel for those girls and that I know if these bastards aren’t stopped, there will be more girls raped over and over again for the amusement of those disgusting ISIS thugs.” Sarah reached over and grabbed Aaron’s hand. “I know what you do, and I also know that I have been living a goddamn cushy life while this has been going on. I also know where I came from, and I know that if my grandmother had not cared so much about me when I was a teenager, I could have been anyone of those girls. So, no Aaron, I can’t sit by and do nothing while you go there and risk your life to stop this.”

  Aaron pulled away from Sarah and retreated back to the couch. He turned to face her and said, “Sarah, this is too dangerous.”

  She interrupted him again. “Teach me how to shoot. I’ll protect myself.”

  Aaron’s jaw clenched but Sarah continued, “Besides, you need me because I read and speak Arabic.”

  Aaron rubbed his hands back and forth over his head. “Shit, Sarah!”

  “You know I’m right.”

  Aaron turned away. “Let me think about it. I need to call my handler at the Council at around ten o’clock. I’ll let you know after I talk to him.”

  Sarah stepped in fron
t of Aaron and took hold of both his hands and they stood face-to-face. “What’s a handler?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  NEW YORK CITY

  TUESDAY, JUNE 7TH

  10:30 A.M.

  Aaron sat on a barstool chair at the marble-top kitchen island in Sarah’s apartment. He gave Stafford plenty of time to take care of the usual morning briefings and crisis calls, then phoned him in his office. He picked up after three rings. “Nigel, this is Aaron.”

  “I was hoping you would phone in this morning.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m here. I think we need to go secure.”

  “Roger, switching over now.” A few moments passed, then Stafford continued. “Code in.”

  Aaron tapped in his identification number and received confirmation the line went secure.

  “Did you have any problems sanitizing the location and getting out of Italy?” asked Stafford. “In case you haven’t seen a newspaper, the hit has been covered heavily.”

  “Yeah, I saw the news, and the exit was clean.”

  “Good to hear,” replied Stafford. “What else do you need to report?”

  Aaron shifted the iPhone to his other ear. “I brought some information back and based on what I saw, I want to return to Europe.”

  “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

  Aaron waited for the sound of a siren to race past on the West Side Highway before he continued. “Fadi Asadel carried a satchel. I grabbed it and took it with me. I have it now.”

  “Still listening.”

  “The satchel contained a computer thumb drive and a bound notebook. The contents of both are very disturbing.” Aaron pushed away from the counter and started pacing in the kitchen. “The thumb drive contains information describing a recruiting network throughout Europe. Not surprising, the recruiters are paid handsomely for fighting age men. But what’s really disturbing is that they are basically slave merchants selling young girls to ISIS soldiers.”

  “We already know about so-called ISIS brides. Is this different?” asked Stafford.

  “Don’t be so casual. Those poor girls are repeatedly gang-raped.”

  “I know. Go on.”

  “I think I can use the information in the binder to get inside this recruiting network and break it up.”

  “Do you have a plan?” asked Stafford.

  “Not yet. But it looks like the place to start is in Barcelona.”

  “I’ll run it by the Council and see what they say. Let’s meet on Friday in Washington and we’ll talk more.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Still listening,” replied Stafford.

  “I’m going to take Sarah with me.”

  “That’s not wise,” snapped Stafford. “You can’t do that without blowing your cover. She’ll know what you do.”

  “Yeah, well that horse is already out of the barn.”

  Several moments of phone silence passed before Stafford asked, “What have you told her?”

  “Everything.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?”

  “She had it figured out when she saw the BBC report on the scene in Trieste.”

  “Goddamn it!”

  “Look,” said Aaron, “that happened and it can’t be undone. She knows and she also knows about the notebook and recruiting network.”

  “Monroe!”

  “Let me finish,” Aaron demanded. “Sarah is fluent in Arabic. She translated all of the information I found in the satchel. Her language ability alone is reason for her to accompany me on this mission.”

  “Hell, I can get you an Arabic speaking agent. One that can shoot, too.”

  There was a long and uncomfortable pause as neither man spoke for almost a minute. Finally, Aaron calmly said, “This is how I want to play it.”

  “I’ll run it by the Council, but Aaron, they are not going to be pleased that you read in a civilian without their consent.”

  “Yeah,” Aaron assured him, “I know that.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8TH

  11:00 A.M.

  Aaron loaded eight clips with fifteen rounds each and placed his M11 pistols in his backpack. They took a quick one-hour drive on the Hudson River Parkway in Sarah’s red Porsche Cayman GTS to a sportsman’s club with an outdoor shooting range. Aaron took Sarah to a spot on the course with bullseye targets set at fifteen yards from the shooters box. Behind the targets was a tall dirt embankment.

  Aaron told Sarah to dress casually, and she did. She wore her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way of her shooting. Her gaze was fixed on the weapon in Aaron’s hand. During the ride from New York she talked excitedly about learning to shoot. When they arrived, she walked through the club lobby and onto the range with a happy bounce in her step.

  Aaron smiled at her enthusiasm for learning how to shoot a weapon. He also marveled at how attractive she was even dressed down for a day on a gun range. Damn, she always looks fantastic!

  There were few patrons. Aaron unpacked his backpack and placed a full clip in each of the M11s but did not chamber a round.

  “Let’s start with some simple safety rules that you can never forget.” She lifted her gaze from the M11 and Aaron made eye contact with her.

  He set both pistols on the shooting counter with the barrels pointed in the direction of the target. “First, never point a firearm at anyone or anything you do not intend to shoot whether or not it is loaded. This is particularly important when loading, unloading, or field stripping. Always control the direction of the firearm.”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Second, always be sure of your target and what is beyond it. Know where the bullet will strike, and shoot only where there is a safe backstop free of obstructions, which can cause ricochets. Be sure your bullet will stop behind your target. Also, bullets can glance off many surfaces like rocks or water and travel in unpredictable directions.”

  “Okay, I can do that.”

  “Third, don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to fire.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And last, unless you just visually checked to verify the gun is unloaded, always assume your gun is loaded.”

  “Okay, I understand, safety is a big deal.”

  Aaron walked around and stood behind Sarah and picked up one of the pistols. He placed it in her hand and with his hand over the back of hers he guided her to aim the pistol toward the target. Aaron’s head was over her shoulder and he spoke softly in her ear, “What you are holding in your hand kills people. The gun doesn’t care if it’s accidental or intentional.” He paused for effect. “Safety is the deal.”

  Sarah turned her head toward him and flashed a smile that quickly disappeared. “My nose itches,” she said.

  “That’s because you’re nervous.” He pressed his body up against her. “Now hold the pistol with both hands.” Sarah held the pistol in front of her and Aaron maintained one hand over the back of her hands. “Now place your finger on the trigger and aim at the center of the target.”

  Her hands trembled.

  “Okay, when I tell you to, I want you to squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it; just an easy squeeze. When you do that the gun is going to kick in your hand and that’s why I will hold your hand. But you need to feel the kick so you know what will happen when you shoot on your own.”

  “Okay.”

  “Alright,” coaxed Aaron. “Are you ready?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Do it now.”

  The Sig Sauer M11 popped loudly and Sarah’s hands kicked back from the force of the weapon firing. Aaron maintained his grip so the weapon would not fall out of her hand.

  Even though Aaron had prepared her for the recoil, Sarah cried out. “Oh my god! I was not expecting that.” She took several deep breaths.

  “That’s alright. You maintained control of the weapon. Let’s do that a few more times and then you can try on your own.”

  “Okay.” Her breathing slowl
y returned to normal. “I think I’m ready.” Sarah turned her head to face Aaron, smiled, and nodded excitedly. “Did I hit the target?”

  Aaron laughed and kissed her on her cheek. “No, baby. You missed the target by the length of an aircraft carrier.”

  With her elbow, Sarah poked Aaron lightly in his ribs and smiled. “Smart-ass.”

  Sarah practiced for ninety minutes and Aaron eventually moved the target back to the twenty-five-yard position. She finished her final clip and Aaron pushed a button on the counter to activate a pulley that brought the target forward. He pulled the target off the pulley and showed it to Sarah as they sat across from one another on a wood picnic table.

  “Are you sure that you never shot a pistol before?” jested Aaron. “Because this is pretty good.”

  “Oh sure,” she replied. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, seriously. For someone who has never shot before, this is pretty good.”

  Sarah reached across the table and put her hand on Aaron’s forearm. “So is this a good time to ask about me going with you to Barcelona?” she asked.

  Aaron took both of her hands and anchored his gaze into her eyes for a few moments. You’re remarkable and, yes, I want you with me.

  “What is this?” Sarah wore a silly smirk. “You have a funny look on your face.”

  “Yes,” Aaron answered. “This is a good time to talk about it.”

  Sarah stood and moved around the table to sit next to Aaron. A slight breeze picked up and he smelled the cherry blossom and peach fragrance of her hair.

  Aaron took her hand in his. “This might be very dangerous. In fact, there will be moments that will definitely be very dangerous.”

  “We can come here and practice some more. I’ll be able to protect myself.”

  “Baby, it’s easy to teach you how to shoot a weapon. It’s a lot different if you have to pull the trigger when it is aimed at a person.”

  Sarah stood and placed one leg under her, then sat again facing Aaron.

  “You have to promise that you will listen and do what I tell you to do.”

  “Okay.”