“I’m sorry I can’t heat these,” Jason apologized as he handed the packets around. “I don’t want anyone coming to investigate a cooking fire.”
Bernadette took a packet and ripped it open, pulling a spoon from her jacket. “Are you kidding? Cold chicken curry on a mountainside with this wonderful view, it couldn’t be better.”
Jason sat beside her and tore his packet open. “You know, we haven’t talked about an extraction plan when we find Chris.”
Bernadette set her meal on a rock and pulled out a small packet wrapped in cloth. “I was going to see if they might accept this in exchange for Chris.” She unwrapped the jade Buddha, handing it to Jason.
Jason looked at the Buddha, it sparkled in the sunlight, and he handed it back to her. “This will give you about thirty seconds more time before he either shoots you or hands you over to his fighters to play with before they kill you.”
Bernadette rewrapped the Buddha and put it back in her pocket. “I got it from our hosts last night. They thought it might work.”
Jason shook his head. “Those two have been working close to Ramin Rasul for some time. They pay him not to kill them or take them hostage.”
“And the Buddha isn’t worth enough?”
“No, it’s probably worth a small fortune to an Afghan warlord, but you have to understand something, none of the captives have been offered for ransom.”
“That’s a big thing?”
“It’s huge. Everything is a bargaining chip here. If they haven’t put out a note for ransom, it means someone else is in control.”
“How do you suggest we play this?” Bernadette asked.
“Real hard, guns blazing, no prisoners,” Jason said.
“What are you, the reincarnation of John Wayne?”
“Nope, but Clint Eastwood and me are best buddies—in my mind,” Jason said with a smile.
“Okay, we do whatever it takes to get Chris free,” Bernadette, said. She pulled out the papers that Lackey had given her. “This is a complete satellite image of the village with all the buildings named as to use, as well as all the names of the villagers.”
Jason looked over the map, “I can see where they probably have the captives. It will be one of these two small huts in the main square. They can keep a watch on them.” He looked at another larger building, turned the map sideways and smiled. “I just found our way in. Let’s move out.”
Sardar Agha crunched a pistachio nut between his teeth and drank his tea. Nothing in the room went unnoticed. He watched the Shia tribes, those pseudo-Mongols who claimed Afghani blood and were really the decedents of the Russians hordes. He watched the several smaller tribal leaders sidle up to them, seeking their favor.
Jamshed took a seat beside him on a cushion. “How is it with you, Sardar?”
Sardar looked around the room with a furrowed brow. “What I see disgusts me.”
“Why?” Jamshed asked.
“I see the Hazara tribe trying to curry favor with some of our Pashtun brothers.”
Jamshed looked at the leader of the Haraza tribe, Abdul Ali Balkihi. “Yes, I can see he is speaking to a Pashtou, but what else can he do? They are outnumbered.”
Sardar saw his trap was set. “But for how long, my brother?”
Jamshed let Sardar’s words sink in. “I spoke to the others in my family. They see the danger of the Haraza. But how do we stop this? If we are attacked by the Shias of Iran to aid the Haraza, we will not be able to defeat them if NATO doesn’t defend us.”
“There is a bigger picture, Jamshed. What if the Taliban could be convinced to join with the Pashtun?” Sardar said quietly, looking around to see if anyone had heard him.”
“You speak of treason, my brother.”
“How many times has the government approached the Taliban to make peace and offering them a seat in the council?”
“Yes, but they cannot be trusted.”
Sardar swilled the tea in his cup and looked at Jamshed. “Who can you really trust in our government? The Taliban tried to stop the corruption. If they were given the right guidance, let’s say by a strong leader such as you…”
Jamshed let his eyes focus on Sardar. He nodded. He understood what Sardar was saying. “The implication is death—if we fail.”
Sardar let the smallest smile grace his lips. “We will not fail. I have a source that tells me the robe will be returned in a day. If you were the one to bring it to me at the mosque, this would increase your status among the tribes, many fold, would it not?”
Jamshed smiled. “You are more conniving than a desert fox, Sardar. Yes, it would be of great value for me to bring the robe back. I’m sure you’d have a convincing story of how I attained it?”
“Of course, enough for the faithful to have you become a hero to our country.”
Jamshed stood, made a gesture of peace and walked out of the hall.
Sardar knew what he’d done was dangerous. Now, he had to put the plan into action.
Jason took the lead up the mountain. Bernadette brought up the rear. She kept having a sensation they were followed, that eyes were watching them. Every time she turned to look, no one was there. Then, night fell.
A three-quarter moon lit their path as they trudged up the mountain. Steam rose from their breaths and from their clothes. The rocks were now freezing solid again as the temperature dropped. Several times they stopped to rest. The going was slow. Then, the light went out as clouds covered the moon.
When Bernadette thought her legs couldn’t take the uphill battle with her heavy pack, they came to the summit. As one, they stopped and rested.
Almas pointed to the stars above them. The clouds had moved to make an opening in the night sky. He kept repeating something.
“Almas says that he knows all these stars, the bright one to the east is the one above the village he visited with Mirwais,” Reza said.
Bernadette looked up at the stars; the one she recognized as Sirius was shining brightly. She looked down—darkness had consumed the valley. She felt her heart sink, how could they descend the mountain in the dark?
Almas took her hand. “You see, moon.” He pointed upwards at the sky. At that moment, a single cloud that covered the moon moved away. The three quarter moon shone down brightly, revealing a narrow and winding path.
Bernadette knelt and hugged Almas. “Yes, I see, we have a bright moon.” His eyes were shining. To Bernadette it seemed Almas had ordered the moon. She shook her head to gather her thoughts and turned to Jason.
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
“You’re right,” Jason said. “We need to get started. I figure we have about three to four hours to descend to the village. I have a topographical map that shows us coming to the end of the trail about two hundred meters above the village, which should give us a good viewpoint.”
“Do we go in as soon as we get there?” Bernadette asked.
“No way,” Jason said, shouldering his huge pack. “I want us to do our extraction at dawn.” He checked his watch. “It’s zero one-thirty hours now. If we arrive at the village at zero five-thirty that gives us a few hours shuteye before sunrise.”
Bernadette turned away and put on her pack. She couldn’t help but smile at Jason’s focus. She hadn’t seen him taking swigs from his liquor flask all day. Maybe the little talk they’d had last night had some effect on him?
Din and Dost left the rocks on the other side of the valley as soon as the sunset. The tracks in the snow were easy to follow. This time there would be no getting lost, no losing their intended target. Din texted to Mirwais several more times as they moved across the valley and then ascended the mountain. Each time he got a reply that made him smile.
“It is not every day that you gain favor with one of our country’s greatest warlords,” Din said.
Dost put his head down and trudged along. He picked one foot up and placed the other down as if he’d been called to his execution. From the moment Din had hatched this plan, he knew i
t was wrong. Just like he’d known the plan to enlist with the Taliban for money and to join the battle in Farah was wrong. Dost, the younger brother, had been a happy shop keeper in Kandahar. Yes, he would have had to marry a less attractive wife, but all of that was more appealing than this night of cold in these barren mountains. Dost said a prayer under his breath to Allah and moved forward. His reply to his brother would not be worth it.
The texts from Din only made Mirwais angrier that his fighters were not moving faster. It seemed hours before they finally found a way over the river. They sped up the valley, forded the stream, losing only one truck that bobbed its way downstream with five hapless fighters onboard. The other fighters cheered them on as they floated away, wishing that Allah would be merciful if they drowned.
Mirwais shouted at his fighters. “Do you think if they could not make it across a simple stream, they could make it across the bridge over hell? Those idiots will be doomed to jahannam.”
The fighters went quiet. In the Quran, all Muslim souls must pass a bridge over hell. Those who are destined for hell would find the bridge too narrow and would fall below to their new abode, jahannam, and eternal hell.
The convoy assembled and resumed down the valley road. Mirwais checked his map; they were only ten kilometers away from the village, but there were three more bridges. He knew that the Taliban would have blown each of them up. He sighed deeply and yelled at his driver to hurry.
Bernadette felt the moonlight on her face as if it was an omen. Somehow her steps felt lighter. The pack on her back was no longer a problem and everything in her told her she would see Chris soon. She tried to suppress a smile.
She checked her watch. They’d been descending to the valley for over four hours. They rounded a corner in the trail to see a ribbon of light sparkling below. It was the small creek by the village. Then the village came into view. Bernadette felt her heart race.
Jason brought them to a halt at a group of large rocks. They could see the village in the moonlight. It looked serene, but they all knew how dangerous it was.
Jason whispered, “We pull out our bedding and sleep here. I’ll take the first watch, then Reza. At first light we’ll see how we do our extraction.”
Bernadette pulled out her thin foam pad and bedding. She was both too tired and too excited to eat. She lay down with Almas beside her and Reza beside him.
When Jason came over to get some water from his pack, Bernadette touched his shoulder. “I see you’re taking a break from your liquid courage.”
Jason nodded. “No, it wasn’t liquid courage it was the liquid to forget. You were right to let me have it last night. I’ve been living with a ghost, and it’s time to set her free.”
He moved away to his sentry point. Bernadette could only make out his outline in the moonlight. She was glad she got through to him, however, maybe it was too late, as tomorrow, if things didn’t go well, they might all be ghosts.
38
Bernadette had fallen asleep. It could not have been for long, but long enough to have a dream of Chris. He was pointing a gun to his head. Her Grandmother Moses was standing over his shoulder. She had her hand up. What did it mean?
She woke with a start. Sitting up, she saw that Almas and Reza where gone. She was frantic, shaken; looking around, she saw them by the rocks with Jason. She threw off her covers and walked to them.
“There’s some activity in the village,” Jason said.
Bernadette looked down into the village square. Four Toyota Land Cruisers were parked and a group of Afghanis with guns milled around the square. Some leaned on the trucks, some squatted by the large tree, smoking cigarettes and chatting.
“What do you think is happening?” Bernadette asked.
“I got a feeling they’re getting ready to move the prisoners,” Jason said.
“What’s our move?”
“I see about fifteen fighters. Now, we’ve got a great attack position, at two hundred meters above them, but the moment we open up, they’ll start a flanking position and come after us. We’d maybe last a few hours before our ammo ran out,” Jason said.
“Okay, scrub that. What’s plan B?”
“Drone warfare,” Jason said. “I brought just the thing.” He pulled out a small drone that had been in the box on top of his pack.
“So that’s what you’ve been packing all this time,” Bernadette said.
“Yep.” Jason smiled. “The Taliban have been using these effectively for some time. They attach a grenade to a drone and drop it on the NATO troops. Damn effective.”
“You think one grenade is going to do it, dropped into those fighters? I mean great idea, but I’m thinking they’ll scatter the moment they hear the racket from that thing. Little drones sound like a bunch of pissed off bees in stereo,” Bernadette said.
“You’re right,” Jason said. “That’s why I brought this along.” He opened his bag and brought out a brown package of C-4 explosive.
“You’ll blow up the entire village square with that, plus Chris and all the captives,” Bernadette said.
“I’m not aiming for the square.” Jason pulled out the map that Bernadette had given him. “You see this building just one hundred meters from the square? The CIA intel says this is their armory. I’m sure this little bit of C-4 dropped on the roof will spark a few grenades and give us the ka-boom we need to pull all the captives out.”
“And when the Afghans find we’re the ones attacking them? Then what?”
Jason winked. “We get down there during the explosions, shoot us some Afghans, take their weapons and give them to the prisoners. Those guys are all trained killers. Bingo, we have our own army.”
Bernadette put her hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You know, I’m sure every army guy has hatched a simple minded plan like yours. Napoleon and Hitler come to mind.”
“Hey, trust me, once this loud ordnance goes off, those Afghans will head for cover. They’ll think the entire NATO force is here.”
Bernadette sighed. “Okay, do your thing, let’s get this party started.”
Jason attached the C-4 to the drone. He got out his remote and started it up. It did sound like a bunch of bees amplified by a stereo sound system. The little thing rose up in the air and dropped down towards the village. The Afghan fighters looked up. First in interest, then in horror—they raised their weapons and began firing at it. They knew what it was.
Jason moved the drone up and down then right and left to keep it from being hit. He swooped it low around the fighters and onto the building.
“Get ready for a little ka-boom,” Jason said.
The next thing they knew, the earth shook. The C-4 exploded first, and then more explosions rocketed through the village. Missiles launched themselves out the building and exploded into the hills. The fighters ran from the square.
“What the hell did you hit?” Bernadette asked covering her head behind the rocks.
“They must have had a bunch of RPG’s and landmines in the building. I’ll be damned, it sure cleared the square,” Jason said peering over the rocks.
“We’d best get down there before they come back,” Bernadette said. She turned to Reza, “Where’s Almas?”
Reza looked to his right, then his left. “Oh no, he said he could find a way to set the prisoners free and help you. I did not think he was serious.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
Bernadette looked down the path, Almas was running full speed towards the village. He had a handgun in his hand. Bernadette looked at her holster for her gun—it was missing.
“Let’s go,” Bernadette said. She grabbed her AK-47 and launched herself down the path after Almas. Jason and Reza were behind her.
The path was narrow and rocky. It took all of Bernadette’s skill to keep from tumbling forward. The path led into the side of the square. She stopped so quickly; Jason and Reza almost collided with her.
“I’ll take the point,” Jason sa
id. “Cover me.” He ran around Bernadette, through the square and into the first building. He came out and motioned it was clear. He went into a small hut. He stopped—his body went rigid.
Bernadette came in behind him. Her heart skipped a beat. Jason was standing in the doorway. His gun was trained on something. She peered into the darkness.
Chris was there. Behind him was an Afghani with a large knife at his throat.
39
“Hey Bernadette,” Chris said. “Glad you could make it.”
His captor squeezed his neck, pressing the blade deeply.
“Sorry about this guy. He really doesn’t like me. He’s been threatening to kill me for some time. Looks like he’s going to get his chance.”
When Reza came in behind Bernadette, she turned to him. “Tell that guy we’ll let him go if he doesn’t harm Chris.”
Reza repeated her words; he listened to Chris’s captor, and turned to Bernadette. “He says this is the infidel who stole Mohammad’s robe. By killing him, he will be assured a place in paradise.”
“My god, I hate when they talk about that going to paradise crap,” Bernadette said. “Can’t you tell him that if he kills an innocent man, we’ll shoot him and he won’t go to paradise, he’ll come back to earth as goat or a dog?”
Reza shook his head, “Wrong religion. Muslims do not believe in reincarnation.”
Bernadette turned to Jason. “Do you have a shot?”
“No,” Jason said. The guy’s head is behind Chris. I’d try shooting Chris in the arm or leg but he’s got him crouched, and this damn AK-47 would put too big a hole in him. Can’t risk it.”
A window opened in the back of the hut. A small hand appeared, then a leg. Almas climbed into the hut. He dropped down silently behind Chris and his captor with his handgun.
Caught In The Crossfire: A Bernadette Callahan Mystery Page 19