by J A Heaton
Now Daniel knew the truth. He would never forget the man he had seen in the window, though he had not seen him for nearly four years. Daniel had seen Oybek. Nigora was meeting with her brother.
But Nigora was right; it was too dangerous for him to go see Oybek, though he wanted to see him nearly as much as he wanted to see Nigora again.
Knowing that one of Qaqramon’s men could be watching, Daniel turned around and walked back the way he came.
When will I go see Oybek? Daniel wondered to himself. Was Nigora excitedly telling Oybek she had just met me?
Having confirmed Nigora’s story about Oybek, Daniel imagined what it would have been like to see Oybek and Nigora together at the apartment. Daniel quickly put it out of his mind. It was too dangerous, but Daniel hoped the time would come.
It wasn’t long before he was waiting at his pickup point for the American patrol. At first, Daniel felt relief, but that turned to optimism. Rex was not going to believe him when he told him he had first met the source six years prior.
“No damn way,” Rex said with disbelief after Daniel told him he knew the source. “No. Damn. Way.”
“Don’t go James Bond on this girl,” Rex continued as Daniel pushed him in the wheelchair. They were on their way to the communications tent for a briefing. “You had better keep it in your pants. And I can walk myself to the communications tent. I was shot in the arm. The doctor said I’ll be moving around fine tomorrow.”
“You’ll only be moving around fine tomorrow if you rest now like the doctor ordered,” Daniel said as he continued pushing the wheelchair. “And, yes, I can keep it in my pants, as you put it.”
“I was shot in the arm,” Rex protested. “I don’t see how a wheelchair gives my arm rest. And you don’t want to hear this, but you need to know she will most likely end up another faceless casualty in this war.”
Daniel couldn’t disagree, but there was hope it wouldn’t come to that.
Daniel and Rex entered the communications tent. General Jones gave them a nod, and they looked to the monitor with both Officer Carter and Jenny on it.
Without a greeting, Officer Carter began.
“Peters gave you eight days for this mission. Three days remain. After that, we will have to admit the threat to the ANA and Russia, and those sympathetic to the Taliban will undoubtedly learn about it and be emboldened. General Jones formulated a plan, and I’ve approved it. So that choppers won’t alert Qaqramon to our presence, you will infiltrate the warlord meeting site during the day and plant listening equipment. Then you will leave and await a helicopter extraction the day following the meeting at the spring. The listening equipment will relay the meeting of the warlords to us, and then—”
“If we can confirm that Qaqramon and Aziz are present at the meeting with the nuke,” General Jones cut in, “then we will bomb all the warlords so hard and fast, they will have no idea what hit them.”
“And why aren’t we simply bombing the meeting?” Rex asked.
“If we can’t know for sure who the bombing would kill,” General Jones answered, “and whether the nuke is there, then we won’t know if we are any closer to neutralizing the threat of the Taliban acquiring the nuke.”
“And it could potentially expose the source,” Daniel said. “A bombing without certainty that at least Qaqramon was there could alert him to the possibility of a traitor.”
“He already knows he has a traitor,” Rex said. “That was the point of the car bomb.”
“But he probably thinks the car bomb was successful,” Daniel said. “A bombing could make him suspicious of another traitor in his midst.”
“Getting intel on the meeting first is our best play,” Jones said. “If the targets and the nuke aren’t at the meeting and we don’t bomb it, Jenny can still analyze all the audio for other intelligence. But Daniel, are you aware of what they will do to you if they catch you?”
“I am aware,” Daniel said. “And I’m also aware of what the Taliban could do if they get a nuke.”
“I must ask,” Officer Carter said. “What makes you so certain the source is trustworthy? She could be leading you into a trap.”
“I know the source, and her family, from my previous research time in Afghanistan,” Daniel said. “They were my host family for over a year and a half. They are like family to me, and she has suffered much because of the Taliban.”
Then Jenny said something Daniel wished she hadn’t. Although her bubbly personality could brighten any room, Daniel sometimes wanted her to filter her thoughts before she spoke them.
“The source is the girl you have been in love with the last six years?” Jenny blurted out.
Officer Carter raised her eyebrows, and General Jones looked askance at Daniel.
Rex held his hand over his mouth to restrain a chuckle.
“I did have feelings for her,” Daniel confessed. “But I’m clear on the mission now. That was in the past.”
There was a pause as if Officer Carter was considering what to say next.
“Okay, I trust you, Daniel,” Officer Carter said. “Move into the meeting area as planned. Plant your listening equipment and get out of there. I wish Rex could go with you, but I agree that he’s not medically fit.”
Rex shifted in his wheelchair but decided not to object.
“And if our listening equipment reveals that Qaqramon, Aziz, and the nuke are present at that meeting, then we will obliterate all of them with a bomb?” Rex asked.
They all nodded in agreement.
“That also means,” Officer Carter continued, “that anybody else present at the meeting will be killed. Even if it is the source. Or—God forbid—Daniel, if he’s captured after placing the listening equipment. Can you accept both of those possibilities, Daniel?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel said, hoping he displayed as much confidence as possible.
“So, all Daniel has to do is infiltrate a meeting of some of the most dangerous terrorists in the world while risking capture, torture, execution, or getting bombed?” Rex asked rhetorically. “Otherwise, Western Civilization will probably end? I think the doc’s up for it.”
Jenny’s eyes went wide on the screen as if to say, “Eek.”
General Jones gave Daniel a pat on the back and said, “Good thing we have the one American who has been to the meeting place before.” Turning to Daniel, he added, “Just make sure you don’t get stuck out in those mountains on your own. Like I said before, you would be a sitting duck.”
“Good luck,” Officer Carter said before ending the communication.
“After you wheel Rex back to the medical tent,” General Jones said to Daniel, “come see me so I can give you a few things before your insertion tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Daniel replied and began pushing Rex’s wheelchair.
“And didn’t Rex get hit in the arm?” Jones asked. “Why does the sissy need you to push him around in a wheelchair?”
“Doctor’s orders!” Rex called out as he and Daniel exited the tent.
Minutes later, Daniel had retrieved the listening equipment from General Jones and was testing it, making sure it could broadcast the meeting of Taliban warlords the following night.
13
Before dawn the next morning, Daniel walked towards the city of Mazar-i-Sharif from the east. He again wore the local garb with warm under-layers. The US airbase was at his back, and the sun would soon rise behind him and cast his long shadow into the city. The temperature hovered above freezing, and he increased his pace to keep warm.
A rice sack converted into a bag with handles alternated between his hands every ten meters or so to avoid fatigue as he got closer to the city. So that he would blend in, Daniel had packed carefully. He could only take one such bag. Otherwise, locals would notice. Rex had urged him to take the Glock, his favorite gun, but General Jones had advised against it. In the end, Daniel agreed with the general. He needed to carry as little as possible, and he hoped to avoid needing a gun. Daniel h
ad carefully placed the Roach Bait, as Rex had called it, at the bottom of his bag. It could be necessary for bombing Qaqramon and Aziz. To the average person, it looked like a black box that could fit in one’s palm.
On top of that, Daniel had placed the radio and listening equipment. The radio, likewise, would be difficult to explain if somebody found them in Daniel’s possession, but they were essential to the mission. Daniel had stuffed some clothes with a Mylar blanket on top of those items, and a plastic water bottle filled the altered rice sack to the brim. It was weighty, but he could manage. Daniel had slid the last few things he had received from General Jones inside his breast pocket under his shirt.
Daniel trudged on, step-by-step. By the time he would reach the checkpoint to enter the city, the curfew would’ve been lifted since the day had begun. Unfortunately for him, his feet already hurt because he was borrowing a well-used pair of army boots from an Afghan soldier from the Northern Alliance. That was the local footwear for a man his age in January.
As the US airbase to the east of Mazar-i-Sharif fell farther behind him, Daniel anxiously approached the checkpoint. He instinctively lifted his left wrist to check the time. He had to travel by taxi before going on foot into the mountains with enough time to plant the listening equipment near the spring and then move to the extraction point.
Daniel calculated he was on schedule, but something nagged him. Had he tested his equipment? Yes, he remembered turning the radio on and off twice to make sure the battery was working. The whole mission would be for nothing if the listening devices didn’t transmit. Daniel reminded himself not to check his watch around others. Watches and footwear made outsiders stick out, and Daniel had to blend in.
General Jones had alerted the checkpoint that a friendly man carrying a rice sack with the light blue and black markings that matched Daniel’s should be allowed to pass them without incident. Daniel had expected to feel exhilaration from being among the locals, as he had been when doing his research. Instead, he felt naked and exposed, wondering if those in the city would immediately spot him as an outsider. Once he was on his way safely in a taxi, Daniel knew, then he wouldn’t have to worry about a Taliban informant or some street thugs like before causing problems. He had to find the perfect taxi without raising too much suspicion while doing so.
As the checkpoint approached, Daniel thought he caught a glint of recognition in the guard’s eye. He couldn’t be certain, though. He suddenly wished he were in his cubicle, back in D.C., working on his next translation. He rehearsed his cover story in case a local pressed him while he was in the city. He would explain that he had to get some things from the bazaar for a relative who was getting married. The guard made a show of looking through Daniel’s bag in case any of the other locals entering the city were watching, but then he allowed Daniel to pass.
Daniel still had about ten minutes of walking to get to the taxi bazaar within the eastern edge of the city. He hoped the patrol vehicles had given him the right location for the correct taxi bazaar. He didn’t have time to waste wandering around to find different taxi bazaars, and the more he had to interact with people, the more likely it was that somebody would notice he was an outsider, and then tell the wrong people about him.
Daniel approached a crowd of dusty cars surrounded by men in small groups, negotiating with passengers. This indicated to Daniel that he had found a taxi bazaar.
Daniel stood back and watched the men haggle over prices. From what he could hear, most of the taxis were going east and then south to Kabul. That was not the way Daniel needed to go. Although going directly south would be the easiest way to reach the spring, it was also most likely watched by the Taliban. Daniel needed to head east first, and then head south, long before the highway would go south to Kabul. It was going to be a bit trickier to do that, and a bit pricier. He also had to do it without raising suspicion. The good thing about walking into the city from the airport was that he was confident nobody was following him.
A few cars, filled with passengers, started their engines and drove away. Daniel decided he didn’t have time to waste, and so he threw himself into the fray. Daniel slowly walked amongst the men calling out for passengers and arguing prices. Daniel acted as if he was examining the cars. He couldn’t delay long, but he couldn’t be careless or draw attention to himself.
“Kabul? Kabul?” driver after driver called out to Daniel and others looking for a ride.
Daniel ignored almost all of them and shook his head slightly.
Most drivers continued calling, hunting for passengers to fill their cars, but a driver with gray hair approached Daniel. Daniel hoped he was the type of driver he was looking for. He was not so young and aggressive. The older man asked Daniel where he was going.
“I need to go near a village,” Daniel said as best he could in Dari.
The man quickly recognized that Daniel did not speak Dari well, but he didn’t act suspiciously.
“Which village?” the old driver asked.
“We must go east for several kilometers, and then turn south,” Daniel replied.
“To the mountains?”
Daniel nodded.
“Not Kabul?” the man asked.
Daniel shook his head.
“I will not be able to find other passengers going that way,” the driver responded.
Knowing exactly what the taxi driver meant, Daniel said, “I must leave immediately. I can pay for all of the seats.”
The driver gave a nod. Daniel wondered why he had agreed immediately. Surely a villager, like what Daniel was supposed to be, wouldn’t have paid so quickly for a full taxi.
It seemed too easy. He hadn’t asked for a more exact location or price.
Daniel hoped the older man must have been desperate for money. Looking at the younger drivers, still aggressively calling out to prospective passengers, Daniel realized he trusted the older man more.
Daniel didn’t have time to waste, and he was still going mostly unnoticed.
The older driver motioned for Daniel to follow him to his car.
As the other taxi drivers saw Daniel walking way with the older man, they started calling out and insulting the man for stealing one of their potential customers.
Daniel ignored them, and after placing his bag into the backseat of the car, he sat in the front seat.
The driver got to the car and started the engine, and he turned towards Daniel and said, “Dollars?”
Daniel hesitated. The old man had detected that Daniel was an outsider. Was he so easily pegged as an American? Daniel wondered if he should refuse dollars and offer Afghan money or Russian rubles, but he decided not to make an issue of it. He had to get going.
“Dollars,” Daniel agreed.
The old man turned on the static-filled radio as they rolled away from the taxi bazaar. They soon headed through the checkpoint that Daniel had walked through less than an hour before. They then passed the US airbase on their right as they lumbered east.
After going several kilometers, the driver pointed to a dusty road that turned south, to their right. He asked if that was the way to go.
Daniel nodded. He forced himself to shut his eyes and tried to get as much physical rest as possible before what would be a grueling day of trekking to get to the spring in time to plant the listening equipment. The old man hummed along with the music, wondering why somebody, probably an American, could pay with dollars, speak his language, and want to go to a place so dangerous for Americans.
Daniel wondered if he had picked the right taxi. Either way, it was too late, and he was on his way to the spring, his life and mission in the hands of an elderly taxi driver.
The sun was well over the horizon when the driver gave Daniel a slight nudge.
Daniel opened his eyes to see the driver pointing to a road that veered off to the side.
Daniel told the man, “No.”
“But that road is better,” the driver responded.
“I know the way,” Daniel answered.
“Stay on this road.” Daniel had to follow the plan precisely. He was unable to remember from his preparations all the other, smaller roads that wound into the mountains. To get to the point where he would go by foot, he had to stay on this road.
“This road will also take us to all the villages in the mountains,” the driver said. “I like this road more, and I drive a lot.”
“Respectfully, no,” Daniel replied.
“The other road is better.”
Daniel wondered what he meant by “better.” He feared he meant it was safer. But Daniel couldn’t deviate from the path now.
“I’m paying, and I want us to continue on this road,” Daniel said.
The driver shrugged and continued down the same road.
They went into the mountains, entering through a small valley that passed between two peaks. Daniel planned to go beyond the second ridge of mountains before he would get out of the taxi and go on foot.
So far, everything had gone smoothly.
The taxi driver began to look at Daniel occasionally, as if wondering when Daniel would tell him that he would stop and get out. Daniel wondered if the man didn’t want to know where Daniel was going so that he wouldn’t have any information to give anybody should they ask.
Daniel suspicions proved correct when they went around a turn in the road. A man in traditional Afghan dress with a black head covering pointed his AK-47 into the air as he motioned with his other hand that they needed to stop. Daniel noticed that a similarly dressed and armed man came from the side of the road from out of the boulders and stood behind the car.
The driver looked to Daniel as if to say, “The other road was better.”
“How much dollars do you have?” the driver whispered to Daniel.
“Enough,” Daniel reassured the man.
Daniel hoped to God that the old man would be able to bribe his way through this unfriendly checkpoint.