by J A Heaton
The man who stopped the vehicle came over to the driver and looked in. Daniel stared straight ahead, appearing as bored as possible. If they investigated his bag on the backseat, he was not going to live much longer. Daniel turned his head slightly to look out his window, and he saw more men. Several squatted among the boulders up the hill, probably cleaning their weapons or making plans for the day.
The Taliban man backed away from the car a step, and the taxi driver turned to Daniel and said, “They need $100.”
Daniel instinctively gave him a look of disappointment, as if that was far too expensive.
Daniel didn’t say that he would have paid tens of thousand dollars, but he reached down the front of his shirt and into his breast pocket. Feeling the wad of hundred-dollar bills General Jones had given him, he pulled one note out.
Daniel handed the money to the taxi driver who in turn reached out and shook the man’s hand, passing the money. Daniel wondered how much of the money the man would share with the other men.
If there is money, there is a way, Daniel thought to himself, remembering the old Central Asian saying that he had heard many times, and thanking himself that General Jones had supplied him well.
The Taliban man moved away from the road and waved them on.
Daniel held his breath as they drove past the informal Taliban checkpoint, fearing that they would shoot them and search them for more money.
But that didn’t happen, and they were soon out of earshot and out of the range of the rifles. Perhaps the men were bored Taliban who wanted money more than anything else.
Daniel didn’t breathe easier until after several more minutes of driving. Then, he felt odd about indirectly funding the Taliban by paying the man at the checkpoint. But Daniel figured it was a small price to pay to stop the Taliban from acquiring a nuke.
Daniel remembered the map he had looked at with General Jones, and he knew he was approaching his drop-off point.
“Stop here,” Daniel said quietly.
The older man immediately pulled over and looked at Daniel, wondering how much money Daniel would give him.
Knowing that his first offer would undoubtedly be too low, no matter how high it was, Daniel pulled out another $100 bill and handed it towards the man, thanking him.
The man gave him a disappointed look, indicating that he needed more. Interacting with the Taliban cost extra. Daniel pulled out another $100 bill and pressed it into the man’s hand and thanked him. Daniel figured it was probably more money than the driver had seen in the last several years, but Daniel was in no position to complain about the price. He got out of the car and took his bag from the backseat. It felt heavy, and he didn’t look forward to hiking with it in the mountains, but he was thankful that nobody had peeked inside.
Undoubtedly glad to be rid of Daniel, the old man continued on into the mountains. As he drove away, Daniel crossed the street and headed east up the small valley between the mountain ridges. Once the driver was out of sight, having misdirected the driver, Daniel went back across the street and headed towards his true destination toward the southwest.
After only ten minutes of hiking, Daniel rested and drank some of his water. He had just enough to last until his extraction the next day.
Daniel plodded through the mountains, cursing his stiff boots, but wary for Taliban men on the watch. But after thirty minutes, Daniel had almost forgotten the danger and felt like he was hiking as he had six years prior. Daniel allowed himself to enjoy the hike over the next few hours, despite the heavy bag he carried at his side. The mountains reached into the sky above him, and the ridges on either side of him descended as Daniel continued along the valley. He knew that he would arrive at the spring within a few hours.
As he hiked, Daniel recalled what the spring was like when he had last been there. The ridge opposite the spring rose little, but nature had cut a pathway into it. The ancient spring had formed a tiny oasis in these barren mountains, and during previous centuries, the spring’s issue had carved the route from its hidden location to the valley. A casual hiker would pass by, thinking it was another dry riverbed that led nowhere, but an investigation up the path would reveal greenery that gave way to the secret of the spring.
Daniel wondered if the pool was as deep as it had been before. The spring had long stopped giving enough water to feed a stream, but it still formed a pool to water nearby plants. The pool was only about six meters in diameter, but the large clearing around it indicated it had been up to three times that size in the past. Small trees, shrubs, and a few large boulders were near the pool. He had crouched behind one of them when he had been there with Nigora. But that was years ago, and things were different now. As General Jones had said, these terrorists soiled anything beautiful, and that included this spring. It was now a meeting point for the Taliban.
But Daniel did not have time to dwell on that now.
After a few hours, Daniel arrived at his destination. He sat on a boulder that rested on the ridge he had been hiking along. The tiny riverbed at the bottom, which had always been empty, as far as Daniel knew, was only a few meters wide with rocks covering its floor.
Although Daniel had very little water left, he didn’t dare go near the spring. He couldn’t risk leaving any footprints to warn Taliban scouts.
He looked about the boulders and loose rocks around him on the ridge and considered where he would place the listening equipment. If he hid it near where he sat, across from the pool, and directed the microphone, it could pick up voices near the pool. But it would be far enough away that nobody should find it.
Daniel guessed the Taliban warlords would send advance scouts to make sure the pool was a secure site, and so he was eager to place the listening device. He spotted some boulders and loose rocks nearby that he could use to both conceal and protect the equipment, but he wanted to test it one more time. Laying the microphone, wires, recorder, and radio in front of him, Daniel turned them on in turn.
Oddly, the light on the radio wasn’t green. Daniel turned it off with a turn of a knob and a click. He turned it back on. The light was yellow.
Daniel panicked and turned it off and on a few more times.
The indicator remained yellow.
Daniel realized that when he had checked his equipment at the base, he must not have turned the radio completely off. The battery had been in use since before he left Mazar-i-Sharif.
Without a working radio, they wouldn’t be able to hear what the Taliban warlords were saying. Leaving a recording device would require them to retrieve it later. By then, the recording’s information could be useless.
The radio had to work.
Daniel cursed and used the radio to call General Jones.
“How long can the radio batteries last?” Daniel asked.
“About twenty-four hours,” Jones answered. “Why?”
“The light is already yellow,” Daniel replied.
Instead of blaming Daniel, Jones said, “I’ll check with the comm guys to see how long it will last.”
As Daniel waited, he wondered how long he could remain at the spring with the radio before leaving it on to allow the most battery life.
General Jones responded, “They say it may have six to twelve hours, but it depends.”
Daniel couldn’t risk that. The radio could die before the Taliban warlord meeting.
Before General Jones gave an order, Daniel informed him over the radio, “I’m digging in here with the listening equipment to preserve the battery life. I’ll be at the extraction site tomorrow, as planned. Going radio silent to preserve battery.”
“If we need to bomb your location…” Jones started, but he didn’t finish.
“Then you have to do it,” Daniel said. “Out.”
Before Daniel turned the radio knob to off, Jones added, “And if your source betrayed you and has lured you into a trap… Be careful.” Daniel finally turned the radio off.
Daniel pushed the possibility of Nigora betraying him out of hi
s mind. Instead, he wanted to curse his carelessness. One tiny mistake of not turning a knob could make Daniel the sitting duck in the mountains General Jones had warned him about.
But he couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about that. Instead, he scrambled along the loose rock and boulders jutting out from the dusty ground. Uncertain as to when the warlords’ scouts would arrive at the meeting, Daniel hastened to set up his observation post.
Another hour and a half later, Daniel lie uncomfortably on top of dirt and rocks with only a tiny crack allowing him a partial view of the pathway to the spring. Daniel had rearranged many smaller rocks and dug away dirt, preparing a pit for himself. After gathering a few branches, he spread the dark shirt from his bag and covered it with dirt and rocks. Once he climbed in with the Mylar blanket to keep warm, he pulled more rocks and boulders towards his entryway to obscure himself. He was confident nobody would find him. Daniel checked his equipment one more time to make sure it worked. He pointed the microphone towards the spring and placed the earpiece into his ear. Everything was finally in place. Now he had to wait and see who showed up to the meeting.
Only minutes passed before the hard ground pressing into Daniel made him uncomfortable. But at this point, he couldn’t alter his position. He wasn’t going to be able to move until the warlords’ meeting was over.
Daniel shut his eyes and tried to rest for a few hours. When the day began to fade, and Daniel felt the cold settle in, he finally heard voices in his earpiece. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but he knew that his camouflaged outpost was going to be put to the test. These were undoubtedly Taliban scouts, coming to check the meeting location.
Daniel didn’t dare to peek from his dugout. Judging by the voices, as many as four men were scouting the area surrounding the spring. He could hear the clinking of metal that came with carrying AK-47 rifles. The scouts dispersed to search the area.
Daniel rested his head and lay quietly, slowing his breathing.
Soon, Daniel heard two men coming towards his ridge. It was the most obvious place for a sniper. Daniel smiled to himself. He wasn’t a sniper, but he could cause the full fury of the United States Air Force to obliterate everybody who would be at the meeting. Including himself. But for now, he had to stay hidden.
Daniel hoped that his observation post’s construction process had not disturbed the ground in a way that would alert the scouts. Did the rock formations and dirt still appear naturally? Had mud on overturned rocks dried in the sun, or would it betray his presence?
Daniel continued to breathe slowly, knowing there was nothing he could do. If they suspected anything, they would stick their AK-47 barrel in his hole, fire off a few rounds, and Daniel would be dead. And that was if he was lucky.
After looking about, the two guards squatted meters away from where Daniel lay hidden. They all watched the same location.
Daniel’s body ached, and he wished he could sit up or stand. A few hours earlier, his body screamed out for rest, and now it wanted to move again. Daniel tried to relax with the two guards less than ten meters away, counting as he inhaled and exhaled.
Two of the men exchanged words that Daniel didn’t catch, and they got up and called to another. After a brief discussion, their footsteps faded as they left.
Daniel was alone again near the spring.
He checked the time and calculated that the radio probably had enough battery life if he were to leave it now. Daniel’s whole body ached, and he desperately wanted to move. Daniel flexed his muscles, and a nearby stone shifted. Daniel realized that leaving was a significant risk. The radio battery would probably last, but if he left his dugout, the area could appear disturbed. The scouts might notice and uncover the listening equipment. Or, worse, they could return as he was trying to escape. Leaving meant a failed mission.
And if this mission is a “success,” Daniel thought to himself, then I’ll end up as dead as Qaqramon, Aziz, and the other warlords.
Daniel made his decision.
The adrenaline gave way, and Daniel rested his head on the rock again and tried to ignore his aching body. He eventually fell into a light sleep.
After several hours, a sound registered from the microphone in his earpiece and woke him. Men were approaching.
Daniel soon guessed there would be about a dozen men standing guard near the spring. With the sun long gone, Daniel feared that his shivering might give him away. More than ever, his body begged him to allow it to move, to get his blood circulating.
Finally, men who seemed important began showing up. It was past midnight.
Through the microphone, Daniel could hear several different languages. Within the spoken Dari, Tajiki, Uzbek, Pashto, and even Arabic, Daniel could detect dialects of the Central Asian languages.
Daniel turned the radio on and began transmitting the meeting to the US airbase near Mazar-i-Sharif, and ultimately to Jenny in Washington D.C. Daniel’s observation post had gone undetected, and he had successfully infiltrated a meeting vital to the Taliban. He couldn’t wait for what they would say.
Having never heard Qaqramon’s voice, he listened for Aziz’s. He didn’t hear Aziz’s voice yet, and nobody recognized the presence of Qaqramon.
Although there was much he didn’t understand, as best as Daniel could tell, the warlords were bantering back and forth among themselves. Their followers—each of them brought about half a dozen men each, it seemed—sat in their own groups near the meeting, ready in case their master summoned them. Although they were united in their cause against invading infidels, they all distrusted each other.
Daniel waited and listened. He wondered if he would lose his own life but save hundreds of thousands of others by doing so.
His body tensed as he heard a man clamber up the rocks towards his position.
Daniel held his breath.
The man stopped and sat on a rock nearby.
After grunting and chewing, the man spat in Daniel’s position, and the spittle dripped between a crevice of rocks concealing Daniel.
He recognized the smell immediately. The man was chewing nas, the Central Asian version of chewing tobacco. Its odor was worse than tobacco’s, and Daniel had to fight to keep himself from gagging because of the stench of the man’s spit. This made waiting more difficult, but all the warlords were doing the same thing Daniel was.
They waited. The real meeting would not begin until Qaqramon showed up. And if he and Aziz showed up with the nuke, Daniel prepared himself for the possibility that he would die with them.
He was a sitting duck in the mountains.
After another hour, Daniel finally heard the voice he had been waiting for. Many of the other warlords expressed dissatisfaction from making them wait so long. They were more unhappy that the latecomer had brought an unexpected guest with him to their meeting.
Daniel wondered who they were talking about and smiled slightly. If only they knew who else was listening in on their meeting.
Daniel heard a voice that sounded much like Aziz’s, but deeper. It made him seem more sinister.
Qaqramon had arrived.
And then Daniel heard Aziz’s voice as well.
Qaqramon reassured everybody at the meeting that their guest would be a powerful ally to them.
But does he have the nuke with him? Daniel wondered.
With both Qaqramon and Aziz present, General Jones only required confirmation of the nuke’s presence to order the airstrike, which would also undoubtedly kill Daniel.
Qaqramon announced his plan to the warlords. He had a simple, two-step plan. First, they had to refocus their efforts elsewhere. The Americans were successful for one reason: they had the air power. Qaqramon argued that they should divert all their energy to disabling the Bagram Airbase. Then, they could get rid of the Mazar-i-Sharif airport. They didn’t need to retake the cities. They just had to make the airbases unusable. After that, the Americans would have to use non-permanent airbases, which were more susceptible to attack, or their airstrik
es would have to come from farther away. The Americans wouldn’t be able to respond quickly, and they wouldn’t be able to save as many of their wounded.
The warlords murmured their agreement to this. They liked the idea of slowly bleeding the foreign invaders to death if they couldn’t decisively beat them on the battlefield. But they disagreed about how to disable the Bagram Airbase to the south. It was not as though it was undefended.
Then Qaqramon reassured them with the second step of their plan. His guest was prepared to do several things that would ensure their victory. He would supply them with many more guns and ammunition. This would include not only light arms, but also heavier weapons that could kill many Americans, and quickly. He would also provide technology to counter the guided bombs and missiles used against them. Just as the Americans provided Stinger missiles for the Afghans to use against Soviet helicopters in years past, now this new supplier would give the surface-to-air firepower necessary to hinder aircraft lower to the ground.
The warlords were happy to hear all of this. But they wondered why this new guest was so willing to help. They soon had their answer.
Daniel couldn’t see, but what he heard was enough.
“With you as my witnesses, I am now receiving a down payment of one million dollars in cash from my guest,” Qaqramon said. “He guarantees fifty million more dollars to purchase something of great value from me.” Daniel heard the guest pass something to Qaqramon, probably a bag holding ten thousand hundred-dollar bills.
The other warlords called out, demanding what Qaqramon could have of such great value.
“Recently,” Qaqramon announced, “I obtained an atomic bomb from our old enemy, the Soviets. Don’t ask me how. I have it someplace safe right now. My guest inspected it yesterday and confirmed its authenticity. He has now made the down payment. Soon, I will move the bomb from its safe place, and it will be given to our new ally in exchange for fifty million more dollars. That will be plenty to arm us against the Americans and to fund more attacks on American and European soil.”