ON EDGE
Also by Albert Ashforth
The Rendition
ON EDGE
A NOVEL
ALBERT ASHFORTH
Copyright © 2016 Albert Ashforth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-60809-200-0
Published in the United States of America by Oceanview Publishing Longboat Key, Florida
www.oceanviewpub.com
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To M.A., C.A., and the three E.A.s
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In thanking the people who helped me with this book, I must begin with Patricia and Robert Gussin. I was the beneficiary of Pat and Bob’s professionalism and encouragement at every stage of writing. I would like also to extend my thanks to the entire Oceanview team—Emily Baar, Lee Randall, Kirsten Barger and Lisa Daily for their assistance in answering my many questions and providing whatever help I needed.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to David Linzee, who provided help with an early version of this manuscript and always did so in an engaging and humorous manner. By keeping me up-to-date on the news, Maggie Emmons aided me enormously, particularly with my research into financial matters and the Kabul Bank. Patricia Allen through her detective work provided me with some invaluable information regarding life in Washington, D.C. At two critical points in the story, Bernard Whalen gave me the benefit of his professional expertise concerning police procedures. By assigning me to Kabul in Afghanistan, my boss, Paul Lovello, made it possible for me to write with authority about the particular topics covered in this book. Claudia Ashforth and I burned the midnight oil on a number of occasions, working on the manuscript and often on the chronology of events in the story.
A number of people provided helpful suggestions regarding particular events or insights into the book’s characters. Thank you, Ruth Horn, Shelly Reuben, Chris Stothard and Elisabeth Ashforth.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Green on Blue
THERE IS NOTHING guaranteed to strike terror and fear in the heart of a soldier stationed in Afghanistan like the threat of a green-on-blue killing. Or as they are sometimes called, “insider attacks.”
A green-on-blue occurs when an Afghan soldier or policeman—in other words, someone who has gained the trust of the American military—turns his weapon on a NATO soldier.
Over a period of three years, from 2011 to 2014, there were over a hundred green-on-blues in Afghanistan. In one instance, two American advisers were shot in Afghanistan’s Ministry of the Interior, one of Kabul’s most heavily guarded buildings. In an especially unsettling instance, a killer got close enough to an American general visiting Kabul to kill the officer. The Taliban jubilantly took credit for this cowardly murder.
The difficulty in green-on-blue situations is that, short of reading the killer’s mind, there is no way to anticipate a green-on-blue. The perpetrators are usually Afghans who have worked closely with their victims, and there is no way to know in advance what they have in mind.
GLOSSARY
The following explanations might help to clarify situations and expressions in common use by military and civilian personnel stationed overseas.
ANA: Afghan National Army. The Army is divided into six combat corps, which are deployed throughout the country. The President of Afghanistan functions as Commander in Chief. The Army is subordinate to the Ministry of Defense.
ANP: Afghan National Police. The country’s police force, which is subordinate to the Ministry of the Interior.
Ariana Hotel: in 2002, the CIA took over the Ariana, which is close to ISAF Headquarters and the presidential palace, and has since had various uses as a hotel for transient personnel, a military command post, and the CIA station in Kabul.
Askar: in Afghanistan, any Afghan, usually a soldier or policeman, who carries a weapon.
Billets: lodging designated for members of the military.
Bird Colonel or Full Bird: the insignia worn by a colonel is a silver eagle with a shield on its chest.
Burqa: a loose enveloping garment worn by many Muslim women in public. It covers the face and the body.
CID: the United States Army Criminal Investigation Command. The Command, which has investigative autonomy, investigates violations of military law within the U.S. Army.
Class A’s: as of 2014, the Army’s blue class A uniform replaced the traditional dress green.
CO: Commanding Officer.
COP: Combat Outpost. Small military installations established throughout Afghanistan as part of a campaign of counterinsurgency. COPs are often effective in dealing personally with the local population.
DI: a drill instructor.
FOB: Forward Operating Base. A military installation used to support tactical operations and usually secured by high walls, barbed wire, and towers. Most FOBs have airfields; some have dispensaries and other facilities.
Gator Alley: the main street of Camp Eggers, running north from the main gate, passing the PX and terminating at the Warrior Gym.
Green on Blue: insider attacks by Afghans, usually armed members of the Afghan military or the police, against coalition members. In many cases, the victims regarded their killers as friends and colleagues, and the attacks have often been carried out against people the killers have worked with. These attacks have led NATO to boost security measures by dismissing hundreds of ANA soldiers and ANP policemen and appointing so-called “guardian angels” to deter further attacks.
Haqqani Network: a terrorist group with close ties to the Taliban and headquartered in North Waziristan, from which it launches attacks on neighboring Afghanistan.
Hooch: in Vietnam a hooch was a hut with a thatched roof. In time, GIs began referring to their own quarters as “hooches.” The term continues to be used, often to describe a soldier’s billet.
Humvee: High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle. A vehicle designed originally to carry personnel and cargo behind the lines. After Somalia, enough armor was added to withstand small-arms fire. In Afghanistan, Humvees were effective for transportation, but after the insurgents began planting IEDs on roads, the vehicle was shown to be vulnerable to rollovers, sometimes leaving occupants upside down and trapped inside the vehicle.
IED: an Improvised Explosive Device. These highly effective bombs are often made with easily available components such as fertilizer and diesel fuel. When vehicles pass over pressure plates, they close a circuit that triggers the explosion. Others can be set off remotely by a cell phone, which is connected to the power source, often a battery.
ISAF: the International Security Assistance Force was established by NATO with the aim of training Afghan security forces and assisting Afghanistan in rebuilding key government institutions.
Jarhead: a member of the United States Marine Corps. The term is based on the short haircuts worn by many Marines.
Kabul Bank: the bank, which was founded in 2004 to help pay government salaries, collapsed in 2010 with debts of 935 million dollars. About one-third of the lost money has been recovered. Twenty-two of the bank’s officials have been found guilty of taking part in the fraud.
Leatherman: a versatile multi-tool favored by the military.
Leatherneck: a member of the United
States Marine Corps. Until 1872, the Marine uniform had a high leather collar that distinguished Marines from the other service branches.
Light Colonel: lieutenant colonel. The term distinguishes a lieutenant colonel from a full colonel.
MI: commonly used phrase meaning Military Intelligence.
MP: Military Police.
MRE: Meal Ready to Eat. Rations for service members in combat or in other field conditions where food is unavailable. Each meal is contained in foil packaging and has roughly 1200 calories.
MRAP: Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle. MRAPs were rushed to Iraq and Afghanistan to replace Humvees, which were vulnerable to IEDs with heavy payloads. In 2007, Secretary of Defense Gates announced that acquisition of MRAPs was the Department of Defense’s highest priority. By 2012, the Pentagon had deployed 12,000 MRAPs for the two wars.
NCO: a noncommissioned officer, e.g., a sergeant.
NSC: National Security Council.
NVGs: Night Vision Goggles. Goggles that improve vision in the dark by using thermal imaging and other technology.
O Club: Officers’ Club.
OCS: Officer Candidate School. Military academy in which college graduates are given the opportunity to become officers for Active or Army Reserve Duty.
One Star: a brigadier general. General officers are often referred to informally by the number of stars indicating their rank.
O-3: the numerical pay grade of an Army captain.
Predator: an unmanned aerial vehicle initially developed for reconnaissance. After 9/11, Predators were upgraded to carry two Hellfire missiles and have been used as offensive weapons, often against insurgent groups in North Waziristan.
Rendition: the practice of covertly sending a foreign terrorist suspect to be interrogated in a country with less rigorous regulations for the humane treatment of prisoners.
SAD: Special Activities Division. The division of the CIA responsible for covert operations.
SE: Soviet East European Division. Until 1989, the intelligence and counterintelligence division that operated against Russia and the East Bloc nations.
SOG: Special Operations Group. When the government does not wish to be publicly involved with a foreign operation, the “op” will often be assigned to one of the department’s Special Officers, usually a former Green Beret, Ranger, or SEAL who has had experience in the country in question.
Special Activities: a euphemism for a covert operation.
201 File: personal and military documents maintained by the U.S. government for members of the armed forces.
UCMJ: Uniform Code of Military Justice. The laws to which members of the military are subordinate.
VBIED: Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device. Car bombs that are either set off from a remote location or when a vehicle hits a bump and closes a circuit, which triggers the explosion. These bombs can do tremendous damage when pieces of the vehicle’s metal fly through the air like shrapnel. Sometimes the vehicle’s fuel causes further incendiary damage.
ON EDGE
PROLOGUE
SUNDAY, JANUARY 27, 2013
AM I DOING the right thing? He’d asked himself the same question twenty times within the past half hour. Ever since he’d returned the telephone to its cradle, slipped on his jacket, retrieved the Sig Sauer automatic from the night table drawer, and left his Georgetown apartment.
Or was he on some goddamned fool’s errand?
No, he was experienced enough to know he’d be a fool to ignore what the woman had told him on the telephone—and what it was she wanted him to do.
Who was she? From her voice he guessed that she was American. She spoke unaccented English. Not southern, not Midwestern. Her sentences were precise, her tone unemotional. She hadn’t wasted words.
But what had snapped him to attention and caused him to sit up with serious concern was her immediate mention of the weekly code—the five-digit number provided to a handful of administration insiders and changed each week by a special assistant to the president. She’d followed that with the name of a government functionary, someone so highly placed and so powerful, you only had to whisper the name for people to go silent. Just the fact that she knew that name meant she knew how things now functioned inside the Beltway and that she had connections at the highest levels of the American government. The individual, whose name had never appeared in a newspaper, had a reputation for being able to fix any situation or solve any problem and, with a phone call, to make or break the career of absolutely anyone in Washington, D.C. This was an individual in whom the president reposed complete trust and whom the president never second-guessed.
And like everyone else in the nation’s capital, with the exception of the president, he now felt himself to be just a shade fearful. In his job, it was up or out, and he felt vulnerable now that he was being eyed for a promotion. He actually shuddered when he recalled his chance encounter last summer with a former congressional staffer stacking shelves at a Winn-Dixie in Tampa, a onetime hotshot whose career crashed and burned when he failed to show proper deference to the right people. Or was it that he showed proper deference to the wrong people?
Who could say?
“Peirce Mill,” she’d said. “There are picnic tables in a wooded area just upstream from the mill. We’ll talk there. This evening, ten o’clock.”
Peirce Mill was in Rock Creek Park. He supposed it was as good a place to talk as any. It was certainly out of the way. But as far as he was concerned, any park bench would have served just as well. Surveillance these days was everywhere.
So here he was, nine thirty on a chilly Sunday evening in January, on his way to meet someone who had called him from out of the blue and said she “wanted to talk.” She hadn’t said about what. At least Tilden Street, the street leading into the park, had street lights. Now he was peering ahead into the darkness on a stretch of road over which hung a blanket of tree branches dense enough to shut out the moonlight. He also found it interesting that she had his name and private telephone number and knew the kind of work he did—or to be more accurate—the kind of work he occasionally did.
He’d jammed a magazine into the handle of the Sig Sauer he carried in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket, just in case. He doubted he’d be needing it. He didn’t have the kind of high-profile job that would lead anyone to want to kill him, although these days you could never be sure about anything.
He made a left turn off the road and drove into the empty parking area. Patches of snow from last week’s storm were scattered about. He was twenty minutes early. He sat in the car for maybe three minutes, then decided to get out and walk back across the highway and to the area upstream from the building. When he got there, sure enough, just as she’d said, there was a picnic table with benches on either side. He walked over, sat down, crossed his legs—and waited.
In moments like this, coffin nails used to come in handy. They were good for calming jangled nerves—and made you appear relaxed and in control even when your heart was pounding double-time. But like everyone else, he’d quit smoking years ago.
Two minutes later, at precisely thirteen minutes before ten o’clock, a woman dressed in a windbreaker and slacks came walking through the woods. She wore a ski cap pulled down over her ears, preventing him from getting a look at her hair. As she approached, he stood. He’d zippered his jacket down halfway and could have the weapon in his hand within two seconds, but he quickly decided that this wouldn’t be necessary.
Without saying a word, she nodded, but didn’t make any polite effort to put him at ease. He thought she might say “Good evening” or shake his hand. She did neither. Naturally, she didn’t give her name.
She pointed at the bench on the opposite side of the table from her, and they both seated themselves. He was aware of a chilly gust of wind, which chose that moment to blow through the park. He felt himself shiver. The Weather Channel had predicted more snow. Back in North Dakota, in his hometown, they already had over two feet.
I
n a soft whisper she said, “Thank you for coming.” They both knew, of course, he had very little choice. He needed to see if this woman was for real—and if so, just how real. To do that he needed to meet her and find out what it was she wanted.
She was carrying a slim briefcase, which she laid on the table and from which she removed a three-day-old copy of the Washington Post.
“You’re aware of this news story?” The sentence could have been a statement of fact or a question. She removed a small flashlight from her jacket pocket.
Sure, he’d read the story, which had run on an inside page. A story about the incident had run in the New York Times as well.
The headline read AMERICAN OFFICER SHOT IN KABUL; ISAF HEADQUARTERS SCENE OF DEADLY ATTACK.
“I’ve read it, yes.” He didn’t mention that he’d met the officer on a couple of occasions many years ago. At a Pentagon Christmas party he’d also met the officer’s wife, a damned good-looking woman.
She said, “What I need is someone to investigate what happened there.” Her voice was cold, and again he noticed her fluent, unaccented English. He couldn’t put his finger on it precisely, but for some reason she didn’t sound exactly the way most Americans sound. “He has to be good, very good.”
“Good at what?”
“At handling himself, for one thing. He should be former military. He is either now a case officer or former case officer. That doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t hurt if he’d already spent some time here.” She pointed at the newspaper. “In Afghanistan.”
He could have told her that most of the case officers who’d spent time in Afghanistan had one thing in common: They didn’t want to go back. Even those who worked out of the Ariana in Kabul, which was the best duty over there, weren’t keen on repeat tours. It was the same with SAD—Special Activities Division—officers down in Chapman. Tours there did something to people. If you weren’t already nuts when you went to Afghanistan, you were definitely a little crazy when you got back.
On Edge Page 1