“I don’t recognize the name,” said Alton. “Was he in-country when we were there?”
“Yes, but he didn’t work for MI back then,” replied David.
“I remember hearing the name,” said Mallory, “but I never worked with him. I think he was a major back then.”
“Kamaal, do you work with Colonel Rand?” asked David.
“No,” replied the interpreter. “I know of him, but I don’t work with him. He speaks Pashto, so he has no need for my services.”
David leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell you what, Rand seems perfect for the MI role. His mom is Afghani, so he has dual citizenship in both Afghanistan and the US. He said the same thing Hanif did. He hasn’t heard of any Al-Qaeda activity over the last two days except the mosque bombing. He said he’ll let me know if he hears anything more. I told him about Dani’s plot to send in a teenage girl on market day wearing a bomb vest under her clothes. Rand was grateful for the intel, of course, but still didn’t offer up any more information.”
“Too bad he doesn’t know anything,” said Alton, who was beginning to wonder if they were setting a record for dead ends. “Kamaal and Fahima, what about media reports? Do you think it would do any good to scan the newspapers for any articles that might tip us off?”
“It might,” said Fahima. “The newspapers here are like the US. They know people like to read about crime stories.”
“Okay. Do you have online access to the news?”
“Yes. The ‘Kabul Press’ is online.”
“Maybe you can search it using keywords,” said David. “‘Kidnap,’ for example.”
“Yes, we will try this,” said Fahima as Kamaal nodded.
“While you’re doing that, we’ll scan the articles in Kabul’s English-language papers,” said Alton. “Maybe something will pop out.”
A few hours later, the group reconvened.
“Any luck?” asked Alton.
“Not really,” said Fahima. “We saw older articles about kidnappings, but nothing from the last few days.”
“Same here.” Alton glanced at his watch. It would be midnight in ten minutes. “Well, let’s call it a night. We’ll need rest for tomorrow. And maybe one of us will have a good idea or two after we’ve slept on it overnight.”
As the group spread blankets on the floor of Kamaal’s front parlor, Alton fell into contemplation. He hoped to find Mastana and leave Kabul as soon as possible, mostly for her sake but also for his own. He settled into his makeshift bed with the memory of the imam’s recent evening call to prayer lingering in his mind. Like a sinister metronome, the call seemed to mark off the loss of another block of hours to find Mastana. He had to track her down…before time ran out.
CHAPTER 27
At noon the next day, Hanif called Alton. “I will meet you at Kamaal’s house, then we will go see about the purchase we discussed yesterday.”
“Good. Let me know when we should be ready to leave.”
Several hours later, the group motored out of the city limits and headed into the surrounding villages. Hanif drove the lead vehicle, while Kamaal brought up the rear.
During their drive, Mallory glanced down at the floorboards for the third time. “Hanif, are those embroidered cheeseburgers on your socks?”
The man smiled. “Yes. It is a little hobby of mine, collecting unusual socks.”
“I’m guessing those must be your most unusual pair.”
“It depends on what you think is most unusual. I also have pictures of…let me see…dinosaurs, basketballs, goblins, and fried chicken.”
“What does your wife think about all that?”
Hanif snickered. “She is quite forgiving. She knows it is my interest, so she does not object. Speaking of spouses, did I hear you say you and Alton met here in my country?”
“That’s right,” said Mallory. “We both served at Camp Eggers. Alton was Signal Corps, and I was Quartermasters. So, how did you meet your wife, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Hanif laughed again, harder this time. “You know in Afghanistan, arranged marriages are still pretty common. My parents and Ara’s—my wife’s—decided that we should marry. I called Ara and found she felt the same as I, that we were both much too modern to go along with this plan. Our views were so similar in this matter that we talked about it for quite some time. I thought, ‘This is a nice girl,’ so I asked her to a restaurant, and we talked about many things until it closed. We went out again the next night. A few months later, we called our parents and had to explain that we were getting married, not because they told us to, but because we decided on our own.”
Alton chuckled. “That’s a cool story—not something you’d hear at home.”
After driving for nearly an hour, they turned onto a dusty road intersecting acres of farmlands.
“What do you know?” said Alton, who rode in the passenger seat of Hanif’s aging Mercedes Benz C240 wagon. “A farm that isn’t growing opium poppies.”
“They don’t want to draw attention to themselves,” said Hanif. “They grow poppies on a different farm.”
Five minutes later, Hanif and Kamaal pulled into a farmyard framed by a series of dilapidated buildings. It hardly seemed a likely place to buy weapons, but Alton supposed that was the point.
“I will text them to let them know we are here,” said Hanif. Two minutes later, the doors of the ramshackle barn swung open.
“Here we go,” said Hanif as he pulled his car inside. Alton swiveled his head to ensure the others followed in Kamaal’s Corolla. Once inside the barn, they dismounted from their cars and waited for Hanif’s contacts to appear.
A short, stocky man with unusually-long hair trudged toward the waiting customers. A motley assortment of flunkies filed behind him. Most of them carried rifles.
“I’m not crazy about this, Al,” said David.
“Me, neither, but let’s see how it unfolds. We have to trust that Hanif knows what he’s doing.”
Hanif spoke with the leader, who identified himself as Jahandar, then turned to Alton. “He wants to scan all of you for electronic bugs.”
“Fine,” said Alton. It wasn’t like this transaction was constructed on a foundation of trust.
Two of Jahandar’s subordinates brought out hand-held spectrum analyzers. The high-tech devices seemed oddly out of place among the barn’s piles of grain and rusting farm implements. The men finished their scans and nodded to Jahandar, who once again struck up a conversation with Hanif.
“Now he wants to see the money,” said the former policeman.
“I have it, but I want to see evidence of goods first.”
Jahandar seemed unhappy. He grumbled, then barked a command to a lackey. The man scurried off and reappeared a minute later with a late-model A4 Carbine, the US soldier’s standard rifle.
“Do I even want to know where this weapon came from?” asked Alton.
“You don’t,” said Hanif.
Alton turned to Mallory. “Welcome to Afghanistan, where anything can be bought, as long as the price is right.” He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and unfolded it, revealing three Canadian one-ounce, maple-leaf gold coins. He removed one and passed it to the arms dealer, returning the rest to his pocket.
“Ask him what I can get with eleven of these,” said Alton, turning to Hanif.
“Eleven!” said Hanif. “Okay, I will ask.”
Jahandar tested the coin in his teeth. Apparently satisfied, he cracked the barest trace of a smile, but his features remained tense. He spoke again to Hanif.
“He asks what kind of weapons you are looking for.”
“Let’s see…If I had my druthers, I’d want knives, pistols, rifles, grenades and hopefully a grenade launcher. And plenty of rounds for all of them.”
“Don’t forget phosphorous grenades and body armor,” chimed in David.
“Right. Those, too.”
After a lively conversation, Jahandar gestured them to follow him to another part of the
barn. His men swept a few inches of grain off the floor, exposing a trap door. They raised the door and switched on a light. A flight of stairs led into an underground bunker.
“He says what you want is down there,” said Hanif.
“Hanif, how much do you trust these guys?” asked Alton. “This feels a lot like a trap.”
“I worked with them for almost four years. They were good informants. Of course, I’m not a policeman now.”
“I guess it’s either go down the hole or leave empty-handed,” said Alton. “Okay, I’ll go only if some of us can stay in our cars while the others are down there.”
“Okay, I will tell Jahandar.”
Alton leaned over to his friends. “Kamaal, Fahima, and Mallory, why don’t you all stay in Kamaal’s car? If this is a trap, you can escape and bring back help.”
“By then, it would be too late,” said Mallory.
“Maybe, but there’s no point in all of us bearing the risk.”
Mallory looked stricken. For her sake, Alton added, “I’ll be okay. This guy isn’t going to win Miss Congeniality, but Hanif says he’s trustworthy. If some of us are going to go down there, I’d rather have the rest of you all up here watching our backs.”
“Okay,” said Mallory, still plainly unhappy.
Alton turned to Hanif. “Tell Jahandar the three of us will go.”
With the arms dealer leading the way, David and Hanif joined Alton in a descent into the underground chamber’s shadowy depths.
CHAPTER 28
As the trio descended into the subterranean room, Alton glanced around. With stair-mounted lights providing the only illumination, the dark space felt like a tomb. Alton hoped it wouldn’t serve as one.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jahandar flipped a switch.
Bright, florescent lights blinked on, revealing a cache of weapons that could have equipped a small army. Shelves and tables lined the earthen walls. Every horizontal surface bristled with arms of every conceivable sort. The armaments were organized by category, beginning with small arms at the room’s entrance and working up to M240 machine guns and several varieties of mortars in the last section. Ammunition of all sorts, electronic gear, knives, helmets, and other types of protective clothing occupied a second chamber branching off the rear of the room.
“Holy shit!” said David, glancing around. “It looks like the center spread for Mercenaries Illustrated.”
“No kidding,” said Alton. “I didn’t think they’d have half the stuff I mentioned up top, but now I’m thinking we’ll be good.”
Keeping an eye on his hosts, Alton made his way to the first table and began a methodical tour around the perimeter of both rooms, handing desired items to one of Jahandar’s men as he progressed.
When finished, Alton examined the pile. “Ask him how much all this will be.”
Jahandar spent the next twenty minutes taking a careful inventory on a faded ledger. He retired to a corner with a calculator and spent another ten minutes totaling the bill. He brought the calculator over to Alton and showed him the total on it.
Alton turned to Hanif. “I don’t have nearly that much. Is he expecting me to haggle?”
“In this business, yes.”
“In that case, tell him I appreciate his hospitality, but I don’t have that kind of money. Tell him I offer half.”
Jahandar snorted upon hearing Alton’s offer.
“He offers a ten percent reduction,” said Hanif, “and he will include an extra case of ammo for the A-fours.”
“How about a forty-percent cut without the extra rounds? I’ve already picked out all the ammo I need.”
The negotiations continued until Alton and Jahandar reached an agreement. They shook hands, and for the first time, Jahandar smiled.
Hanif listened to Jahandar. “He invites us inside his house for tea.”
Alton didn’t want to linger, but he knew ignoring the invitation would represent a serious breach of Afghani etiquette. He needed to stay on good terms with the man in case he needed to resupply later. “Tell him we’d love that.” He could always make it quick.
Alton removed the two remaining gold coins from his pocket and passed them directly to the arms dealer. Turning to Hanif, he said, “Tell him I’ll provide the rest of the payment once we’ve loaded our purchases into the cars.”
Alton and the others climbed up from the underground chamber, back into the natural light of the barn. He wasn’t sure if his relief at that moment derived from finding such an incredible stash of weapons or simply emerging from the cellar alive—perhaps both. The others’ relief, especially Mallory’s, seemed to mirror his own.
Jahandar barked orders to his men, who began carrying the goods upstairs.
Ten more minutes were needed before the complete set of supplies lay in a pile on the barn floor. Four A4 rifles, all including under-the-barrel M203 grenade launchers, nestled against six Berettas, the pistol of choice in the Afghanistan streets. A case of frag grenades straddled cases of smoke grenades and incendiaries. Also resting nearby were flak vests, helmets, binoculars, face paint, Rucksacks, web gear, six sets of night-vision goggles, and multiple cases of ammo. Knowing that some combat situations called for silent weapons, Alton had also purchased three SIG Sauer P226 handguns with suppressors and six M9s with the intention of using them as knives rather than rifle-mounted bayonets. For stealthy communication, six sets of sub-vocalization microphones and earpieces lay in a neat stack.
“Good grief,” said Mallory. “They must have a department store down there.”
“You have no idea,” replied Alton. “I’ll tell you about it on the drive back. Okay, let’s load this stuff in our cars, then I’ll give Jahandar the final payment. He invited us in for tea, so we’ll need to do that before we leave.”
They all set about packing the smaller items into the rucksacks. As they handled the weapons, David leaned over to Alton. “Just like being back in the service, huh?”
“A little too much.” What was it about being back in Kabul that bothered Alton so much? It wasn’t like he hadn’t been involved in combat over the past year.
“You all right, Al?” asked David.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You kinda went off to some other place for a second there.”
“I’m fine—just feeling a little déjà vu seeing all this stuff, I guess.” He continued packing in silence.
Once the smaller items had been stuffed into Rucksacks, the group loaded all the gear into their cars.
Alton surveyed the portion of the stockpile packed into Hanif’s Mercedes. “I’m glad you own a wagon. We needed it.”
After sharing the obligatory tea with the arms dealer, the band set out on their return journey to Kabul, hopeful they were one step closer to securing Mastana’s release.
CHAPTER 29
The chains that bound Mastana to the floor seemed brand new. Had they not, she might have tried to work them free from the floor anchor. As it stood, she realized struggling against her restraints would only weaken her, rendering her less prepared for any future opportunity for escape that might present itself.
Hearing the now-familiar rattle of a door opening down the hallway, Mastana steeled herself for potential action. Sure enough, the door to her cell swung open, and a man stood silhouetted in the light. Mastana had not seen this captor before.
“Step into the light,” he said.
Mastana did as commanded.
“Ghoyee was right. You are pretty.”
Not knowing how else to respond, Mastana bowed her head. Better to let her captors perceive her as a subservient, compliant female, an impression that would leave them less prepared for a potential jailbreak in the future.
“You will play an important role in an upcoming ceremony.”
The statement sounded foreboding, but Mastana couldn’t exactly say why. “What am I to do in the ceremony?”
“You don’t need to know that yet.”
Mastana
’s mind raced. To have any chance of escape, she had to learn more about her captor’s plans. “How am I to do my best in the ceremony if I don’t know how to prepare?”
“My dear, no preparation is necessary,” replied the man as he canvassed her body with a single sweep of his eyes. His lips curled in a cruel smile. “You are already…perfect for the role.”
CHAPTER 30
Alton and the others regrouped at Kamaal’s house.
As they climbed out of the cars and filed inside, Mallory pulled Alton aside. “Is your leg bothering you? It seems like you’ve been favoring it a little more than usual.”
“Yeah, it’s weird. Ever since we arrived, it’s gotten a little worse. Maybe it’s just psychosomatic,” he added with his best attempt at a smile, but Mallory’s worried look persisted.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie. We can always try the massage later. That usually helps.”
“That’d be great.” This time Alton’s smile was genuine. His wife really had perfected the technique and could be counted on to ease away the worst of the pain in his thigh.
They gathered around Kamaal’s table once again.
“Okay,” said Alton, “we have plenty of gear to rescue Mastana, but we still don’t know where she is. I suggest we keep working on locating her uncle’s house.”
Everyone nodded.
“If we can discover Dani’s cellphone number,” continued Alton, “we might be able to track him that way.”
Kamaal shook his head. “The Al-Qaeda types have learned their lesson. They use burner phones now—untraceable. Use it once, then throw it away. But that makes me think. What about a computer? If Dani has one, can we use its IP address to track him down?”
“It’s a good idea, but I don’t think it’ll work,” said Alton. “Mastana said she sent me her e-mail message from an internet café. Why would she go to the trouble of going there if she had a computer in her house? She could just wait for her uncle to go to sleep or leave, then send the message.
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