Undeclared War

by Dennis Chalker

  Without waiting for Straker to sit, Rosacrantz began talking.

  “This meeting should be little more than a formality before formal charges are brought against Chief Petty Officer Reaper,” Rosacrantz said.

  “I hardly think that the decision to bring capital charges against anyone should be considered simply a formality,” Straker said.

  Rosacrantz looked at Captain Straker with surprise showing on his face.

  “But you can hardly argue against the evidence and the gravity of the situation. You have a highly trained operator who had a serious failure of judgment that resulted in the murder of two native Muslim defenders of a refugee group. It’s quite possible that his slaying of the militia members directly resulted in the slaughter of the villagers.

  “The situation in Bosnia-Herzegovina is very unstable right now. The peace accords have been kept in place by very careful diplomatic maneuvering by State with both the local governments and NATO. The U.N. has a direct interest in just how well we handle the situation. This incident must be handled properly.”

  “If by properly, you mean railroad an enlisted man who has given fifteen years of exemplary service to his country,” Straker said more than a little heatedly, “then you will not have the cooperation of the Navy or of Naval Special Warfare.”

  Straker continued before Rosacrantz could get over his shock at the SEAL’s blunt manner of speaking and hard tone of voice.

  “I have personally examined the reports of the incident and interviewed the bulk of the personnel involved. Additionally, I have gone over the service records of everyone involved in some detail. More than that, I put Chief Reaper’s history under a microscope. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, in his record indicates anything but exemplary behavior on his part along with the utmost professionalism in the execution of his duties.”

  “The situation in Bosnia-Herzegovina was a combat environment,” Rosacrantz said, “with severe stress on everyone stationed in the area. It would have certainly affected the judgment of a man not used to the intricacies of operating with foreign nationals with their own set of morals and ideals.”

  Straker swallowed the expletive he almost burst out with. “The level of stress you seem to think so extreme is exceeded on a regular basis during our normal training in the SEAL Teams,” Straker said. “And Reaper had been in combat before. His conduct under fire with a detachment from SEAL Team Four during Operation Just Cause in Panama demonstrated coolness under fire. He was able to absorb severe hardship without complaint and without wavering from the objective at hand.

  “After his combat experience, he went on to be a First Phase instructor at the Special Warfare Training Center in Coronado. Again, he showed proficiency and competence in his job while also looking out for the welfare of the students placed in his care. He is a completely professional military man.

  “The same can’t quite be said in regards to Captain Paxtun. I find his military records interesting for their brevity. In fact, he doesn’t seem to have existed except perhaps in a vacuum before more than a few years ago. It’s been a few years but I’ve seen this kind of military record before, back when I was a young officer in Vietnam. This is the record of an intelligence operative seconded to the military and given a protocol rank. This man isn’t a commissioned officer or even really a soldier, he’s a spook!

  “I don’t know just how deeply you’ve looked into the backgrounds of this officer—and I use that term with reservations. Maybe you’re just working from a limited briefing. But with one of my SEALs’ career on the line, you can be sure that I’ve looked deeply into all the backgrounds of everyone involved.

  “Did you even know that Paxtun had been captured by the Soviets while under deep cover in Afghanistan? After being disavowed by our own government, he was finally rescued by members of a local mujahideen faction. For months, he stayed at the Amir Muawia camp in the Khost province of Afghanistan. That place was originally set up by the CIA and the ISI, the Pakistani military intelligence service. Now, it’s nothing more than an Islamic fundamentalist base—a training camp for terrorists. On top of that, the ISI is corrupt as hell and ass-deep in the opium trade and gun running.

  “That man should never have been allowed back into a combat zone. Certainly not put in charge of a special operations unit. And most emphatically not put into an area where Islamic fundamentalists were trying to gain a political foothold among the Muslim refugee population.

  “We’ve traced at least one of the Islamic fundamentalist factions operating in that part of Bosnia directly back to the Khost region of Afghanistan. If I can find that out just from my contacts in the intelligence community, how in the hell did you guys here at State miss it completely?

  “Those Islamic fundamentalists could give lessons in enthusiasm to Baptist missionaries. Don’t you think the men who rescued Paxtun from the hands of the Soviets just might not have a bit of influence over him?”

  Having visibly wilted under Straker’s verbal onslaught, Rosacrantz quickly recovered his composure and spoke back to the big SEAL.

  “Captain Paxtun was fully debriefed after his unfortunate problems in Afghanistan,” Rosacrantz said. “It was to his credit that the man never broke under the enthusiastic interrogations of his Soviet captors. At that time, the Soviet military would have liked nothing better than to have had a U.S. intelligence officer taken prisoner from that particular part of the world. It is to Paxtun’s credit that he was able to immerse himself deeply in the local Muslim culture and prevent his cover from being blown.

  “Paxtun was considered more than able to command the special operations people of that JSSF contingent. His special knowledge of the customs and culture of the Muslim people was expected to be a great asset to the mission. It is unfortunate that the men from your command did not seem to be able to take their direction from a capable and well-trained officer.”

  “Are we reading the same reports?” Straker said. “Do you really have any idea just what the true situation is over there?”

  “You are hardly qualified to judge the…” Rosacrantz began to say.

  “Oh, but I am qualified to judge this situation,” Straker interrupted in a menacing tone. “I have been put in very bad situations in the past by self-serving intelligence operatives who overreached themselves and wanted someone else to blame when things went bad. And I will not stand by and allow it to happen to the men I serve with.

  “The idea that the Serbs conducted the slaughter at the relocation village has nothing to support it. There were no Serb forces operating in the area that SFOR knew of. There were no Serb forces that the Russians knew to be operating in the area. And the Serbs themselves say they had no units within miles of that village during the time of the attack.”

  “You could hardly expect the Serb forces,” Rosacrantz said, “who are themselves suspect in a number of criminal atrocities, to admit that they were the ones who conducted this action.”

  “No, I would hardly take their word for it,” Straker said. “But it is significant that their information correlates with everything we can get from other sources. And there is the evidence that was recovered by Chief Reaper after the incident that points the finger at Islamic extremists doing the killing.”

  “You cannot accept as evidence the described finding of a minor piece of clothing and some religious tracts,” Rosacrantz said. “The materials simply don’t exist.”

  “That in itself is interesting to me,” said Straker. “The only evidence described by Chief Reaper never made it up to higher headquarters. But the funny thing was, all of his men who were questioned separately about the incident described exactly the same things. And Captain Paxtun had been conducting extensive contact ops on his own accord without informing his men, or anyone else that I can locate right now.”

  “If Paxtun is the experienced intelligence operative that you describe,” Rosacrantz said, “you could hardly expect him to give out sensitive information when there wasn’t a need-to-k
now.”

  “I saw a number of Intel people try to hide behind the sensitive information shield before,” Straker said. “That may have worked on a naive young officer twenty-five years ago, but it won’t work now. You try and push these swollen charges forward and I will make it my responsibility to uncover everything that was going on in that particular piece of the world.

  “Chief Reaper is not going to plead guilty to anything at this point. He will not roll over and play dead no matter how badly the State Department wants him to. Reaper has told me his suspicions regarding the situation over there and Paxtun’s involvement in it. It does not make a very pretty picture.

  “Paxtun could have been just trying to gather intelligence on the situation in that area of Bosnia-Herzegovina. He could easily have been cooperating with an Islamic group he felt he owed something to. Or he could have been going behind everyone’s back to just line his own pockets. Smuggling guns, drugs, whatever, has been going on in that part of the world for decades. Some of the Islamic organizations are raising their operating funds by selling opium out of Afghanistan. It wouldn’t be the first time an intelligence officer took advantage of being in the middle of the situation to add to a personal retirement fund.

  “Accusations are easy. There is no hard evidence as yet to support these suppositions—only the words of several SEALs who I trust. But if JAG was to become involved in an official investigation, I’m sure corroborating witnesses and evidence could turn up.

  “And before you tell me that security classifications will keep me from learning what I want to know, I should tell you that the Special Warfare community is a very tight one. We have been in the business of gathering intelligence for this country for a very long time.

  “The Teams were working for the intelligence community since before the CIA even existed. There are a lot of ex-Team guys in the Intel world right now. This thing stinks and I will find out just what is rotten. I think that some very bad judgments were made in regards to our allies in that part of the world. And there are some extremist groups around there who have their own agendas. Agendas they have every intention of following no matter what they have to do or who they have to kill.

  “I don’t know who, or to what extent, Captain Paxtun was involved with over there—and I don’t particularly want to find out unless I have to. And if I do, you can rest assured that it will become part of the official record.”

  Martin Rosacrantz was stunned by the tone of the big SEAL’s words as much as their content. As the bureaucrat sat back in his chair and stared at the SEAL, Straker considered it time to take a new tack. Now it was his turn to play diplomat and push a cookie across the table. Chief Reaper couldn’t get out of this situation unscathed. The bit about exposing some kind of possibly unsanctioned ops or corrupt activity had hit the bureaucrat harder than Straker expected. Offering an alternative punishment for Reaper, and making it sound worse than it was, could give the State Department, or just Rosacrantz, a means to save face.

  “There is the fact that Chief Reaper struck a superior officer,” Straker said. “Even one who may not have been a true commissioned officer. That is a serious breach of military discipline. There are no witnesses to the incident, but Paxtun’s jaw being broken in two places speaks for itself.

  “Making Reaper face charges under the Uniform Code of Military Justice would bring a great deal out during a court-martial—some of which the State Department may not like shown even to a secure court.

  “I think I could convince Chief Reaper to accept one option. He could leave the Teams and return to the fleet, maintaining his rank as a Navy chief petty officer. That would keep him under military control and he could retire as soon as his twenty years were completed.”

  Straker had no real expectation of Rosacrantz accepting his first suggestion of punishment for Reaper. The people at the State Department had the reputation of being bargainers and Rosacrantz was no exception. What he wasn’t saying to Rosacrantz was that Reaper had already admitted to having struck Paxtun. That the SEAL chief was ready to stand up for what he had done and accept whatever punishment would be due him for his actions was one of the factors that put Straker solidly on Reaper’s side.

  “No,” Rosacrantz said emphatically, “Chief Reaper will leave the service entirely. Paxtun has been stripped of all rank and relinquished all claims for any benefits he may have accrued. He has been expelled both from the military and the intelligence community. Your chief will not receive any more lenient treatment for his involvement in this affair.”

  “Chief Reaper is up for reenlistment within a few weeks,” Straker said. “As a career military man, he has to put in his twenty years before he becomes eligible for any retirement. If he was not allowed to reenlist, he would have to just leave the service. Any actions taken by him after he left the Navy could jeopardize any benefits that would come to him down the road. His discharge is already in the works.” Straker neglected to mention that the discharge would be an honorable one. “I’m certain Chief Reaper can be shown the benefits of ending his career.”

  Captain Straker had a bad taste in his mouth even as he said the words. They could keep Chief Reaper from facing any kind of trumped-up charges. The fact was that a number of Balkan-area Islamic groups that had been supported by the State Department had turned out to be terrorist organizations. That was something that State didn’t want talked about. The situation in the Balkans was a mess, and the present administration didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it as things got worse. Getting Reaper the hell out of the line of fire would be the best Captain Straker could do. He would just have to get by in the civilian world.

  Chapter Four

  In the years following the massacre of Muslim civilians at the village, the story never left the immediate area of Bosnia or the halls of the U.S. State Department, Intelligence agencies, or military. Coming from a land that had seen the worst of war for years, the story of a handful of villagers being slaughtered didn’t make even a footnote in the international news.

  The loss of a few personnel to the Intelligence community and the Navy, even the small ranks of Naval Special Warfare, were absorbed without notice. Lives were changed in major ways, without directly affecting the U.S. government in the least. In other parts of the world, the policies of the U.S. administration of the 1990s, especially those of the State Department and Intelligence community, were going to affect the government, and the world.

  A large part of the operating funds that al Qaeda and other organizations depend on came from their involvement in the illegal drug trade. Growing opium poppies had always been part of the Afghan farming scene. When Iranian drug merchants came into Afghanistan, fleeing revolutionary justice in Iran, they helped set up drug processing labs inside the country to convert opium first into morphine-base and then into heroin. The high-quality heroin produced was quickly slipped into the drug pipeline.

  The Balkans had been developed by al Qaeda and others into a southeastern approach into Europe. The drug pipeline stretched from Afghanistan and central Asia, through the Middle East, north to Bosnia, and on to Italy and beyond.

  Heroin flowed by the metric ton from al Qaeda labs in the mountains to addicts in Germany, Norway, and England. These were productive markets and money poured into the coffers of al Qaeda as Afghan heroin saturated Europe. That money helped to finance a number of extensive operations by Islamic extremist groups.

  In spite of the success of their narcotics trade, what was desired above all by al Qaeda and their brother organizations was a secure connection into North America and the United States markets. Having returned to the States while still maintaining his contacts in Afghanistan and elsewhere, Cary Paxtun was happy to supply that connection.

  Paxtun had come from the large Arab and Muslim community in southeastern Michigan. His ethnic Middle Eastern background had served him well when he had been working as an intelligence agent among the mujahideen in Afghanistan. But he had been out of the United States
and away from his home area for a long time.

  What Paxtun needed was a local contact to help him set up a major drug distribution network. He found that business partner in Steven Arzee, a younger Muslim who had been running a small nightclub in Detroit. Out of his club, Arzee had also been conducting some drug deals and other illegal business with the assistance of a number of his extended family members.

  The fastidious Arzee was not a soldier, in spite of the airs he gave himself. But he was a dedicated Wahhabi Muslim with a good deal of street smarts and some very loyal and trusted men with him. With Paxtun’s knowledge and connections and Arzee’s manpower, their illegal and legal businesses quickly grew.

  Creating private secured bank accounts, money laundering techniques, surreptitious transport of materials across international borders, and other such skills had been part of the trade craft that Paxtun had learned during his time in the intelligence community. This knowledge base, combined with the contacts Paxtun had in the mujahideen brotherhood, helped both Paxtun and Arzee to become very successful.

  North of the center of Detroit exist a number of smaller factories surrounded by tract houses and old neighborhoods. A loss of jobs had caused most of the factories to close down years earlier. Both the local neighborhoods and many of the factory buildings fell into a bad state of decay.

  One old manufacturing center had undergone a resurrection of sorts, though not to make cars as it had years before. The Factory, as it was known, was now a nightclub for the adventurous in Detroit. Built on the first floor of the old auto plant, just off the intersection of two major highways, the Factory was a modern playground for the clubbing youth of both the city and the surrounding suburbs. Young Canadians from across the Detroit River in Windsor also came to taste the night life at the Factory.

  The Factory had been organized along the lines of a permanently located rave. It had proven itself popular as a rave in spite of the protests of the hardcore rave devotees who insisted that such an event had to remain portable and underground to be a true rave.