Alright, Brannigan said in a calm tone. Take a deep breath, then give me the details.
Aye, aye, aye, sir, Chinar said. He had picked up this affirmation of orders from the SEALs but his excitement had caused him to add extra ayes to the mix. He inhaled, held it, then exhaled and immediately began talking. Awalmir Kahn received word that the smallest village of his tribe was attacked and everybody there was killed, and it seems to be the same thing that happened to the Swatis. His warriors tell him many, many horsemen were there and they attacked and also they fought on foot. Awalmir Kahn is very angry. He has already sent his number one fighting man, Paywastun, to gather the tribe for war. We Janoons have sworn badal with our brothers the Yousafzai.
Brannigan looked over at Awalmir, who stood beside Chinar, nodding to him in acknowledgment of what had happened at the village. The Skipper turned back to the young interpreter. Tell Awalmir I am very angry, as will be the American commanders when I tell them of the crime. Ask him to wait while I make contact and get their reactions. Make him understand they will not stand for this outrage.
Should I tell him that they will swear badal with his people too? Chinar asked.
Yes! Brannigan replied.
Chinar spoke rapidly to Awalmir. The warlord spoke a few terse words that Chinar translated. He will stay here only until his clan is gathered to make war.
Brannigan quickly spoke up. It would be better if we Americans, Yousafzai, and Janoons all fought together. I humbly beg Awalmir Khan to trust me enough to agree to that arrangement.
Chinar translated the request, and exchanged a few more words with the Pashtun war leader. Then he turned back to Brannigan. Awalmir Khan agrees to what you suggest.
Brannigan went over to where Gomez stood with the laptop. He reached into the RTO's breast pocket and pulled out a message pad. After scribbling out a brief but fully descriptive SITREP, he handed it back. Transmit this to Carey ASAP.
Aye, sir!
Brannigan whipped around to face Dawkins. Muster the troops, Senior Chief!
Chapter 24
KHORUGH, TAJIKISTAN
SPENCER Caldwell had not been happy with his CIA assignment to Tajikistan. For more than a decade he had spent all his time in the former Islamic Soviet Socialist States of the USSR, and he found that setting up a net of operatives was all but impossible in those remote locations. Those nations where nothing much was going on offered little opportunity or reason to make any intelligence inroads. On the other hand, the ones filled with turmoil and strife attracted so much attention from the Russian Federation and its FBS that they were literally crawling with a plethora of spies, military infiltrators, informers, and turncoats. This mixing of causes made it impossible to determine any one person's reliability. Changing sides in issues seemed to be national pastimes in that part of the world.
Caldwell had at least developed an excellent cover that allowed him extraordinary access to the far reaches of the entire area. He posed as a freelance archaeologist and drove about in a battered Land Rover in the hinterlands checking out historical sites for relics and evidence of ancient peoples. It was ironic that he made several meaningful discoveries where ancient towns and settlements had once been located. In spite of his amateurish poking around, the locations revealed valuable antiquities. Caldwell obeyed the local laws by reporting his finds, and that resulted in the countries' own archaeologists, along with university students, joining him for further exploration. This increased his credibility and afforded him easier access to other parts of the desolate areas of Asia. Within a couple of years he was a well-known explorer, after being featured in newspapers and on television where he discussed his career. No matter where he went, the local police always saluted politely as they waved him through their roadblocks without searches or inquiries. Additionally, he wrote articles about his discoveries that were published in several archeological magazines in Europe.
The CIA agent was also able to enjoy freedom of movement in cities by renting office space where he purportedly did all his paperwork. This was what led to his establishment in Khorugh. The shabby intelligentsia of the city were flattered that he had settled among them, and he was soon included in their social activities. These were no more than evening-long discussion periods in cheap apartments where the dialogue, though quite intellectual, was fueled by cheap vodka. It was typical Tajik custom that this was strictly a male activity, and the only women present were the hosts' wives, who served the second-rate snacks and liquor to the guests.
Not all the attendees at these affairs were academics. Educated people from other fields would show up, seeking the company of the scholarly elite to feed the cerebral hunger of their own excellent minds. Among these was a Tajik army officer by the name of Major Firdaus Khumar. He was a tall, slim man with graying black hair and a sophisticated demeanor. His beard was cut short, as was traditional among Islamic military men.
When Caldwell first met Khumar he immediately figured him as the somewhat ne'er-do-well son of a wealthy or important family. This would be typical in that part of the world when a prestigious clan would take the son who couldn't or wouldn't fit into the family's business and get him a commission in the army. It would be sort of a gentle-man's existence for the reprobate that would keep him out of the way without becoming a total disgrace. However, after a half dozen or so conversations with Khumar, Caldwell found him to be extremely intelligent, well educated, and probably in possession of a genius IQ. This was a capable fellow who could do just about anything he desired. Besides his native tongue of Tajik, Khumar was fluent in English, Russian, French, and Arabic. And, most important of all, he held a responsible position in the Tajik Army's Intelligence Branch.
Needless to say, during those apartment get-togethers, Caldwell began keeping a close eye on Khumar. The man was an excellent candidate for any spy's stable of informants and confidents. He found out the officer was a married man with a couple of teenagers, and his wife was a schoolteacher. And, as soon as the major discovered Caldwell was an American, he warmed to him quickly. This put the experienced operative on his guard. Since Khumar was military intelligence, and Caldwell was an American, there existed the possibility of a deep probe despite the archaeological cover. In fact, it would be surprising if Khumar did not have some professional curiosity about him.
Thus began some subtle questioning and inquiries between them. After a while it was difficult to tell who was developing whom. But after a few months passed, Caldwell felt secure enough to invite Khumar to visit a site he was exploring in the nearby Kangal Mountains.
They took the Land Rover for a two-hour trip up into the trackless, barren hills until reaching a meadow between a couple of prominent mountains. The ersatz archaeologist explained this would have been an excellent spot for ancient peoples to have established a town or settlement, and he thought it worth the effort to do some exploratory digging. Khumar was enthusiastic about the prospects and volunteered to help with the shovel work. That one afternoon turned into several more trips and finally to an entire twoweek campout as the searching continued.
A sincere friendship developed into evenings out enjoying the sins and delights of Khorugh. This involved drinking and whoring in places much like the apartments of the intellectuals. Khumar's conduct was most indicative of his lack of religious fervor, thus giving Caldwell some optimism in dealing with him.
The bars they patronized served cheap liquor in shabby surroundings, and the whores were young but not particularly attractive women who could be picked up and taken to cheap hotel rooms for quick unimaginative couplings. This desire for slatterns was not unusual for highly intelligent men, who found satisfaction and change in the grubby sexual experiences with females from the lower strata of society. It was after such activity on an early summer morning when Caldwell and Khumar were sitting at a kiosk drinking coffee. In spite of their hangovers, an understanding was reached.
Khumar wanted to defect with his family.
A few probing question
s by Caldwell convinced him the man was sincere. Khumar wanted out of Tajikistan and had enough interesting intelligence regarding Russian activities in the area to make him valuable to the West. Caldwell promised to make inquiries and would get back to him. The result of a little giving-and-taking was that Khumar would go on a payroll, remain in his job, and pass on items of interest to Caldwell. When the time was right, arrangements would be made to have the major exfiltrated to America with his wife and two children to begin a new life free from the constrictions of Islam.
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KHORUGH APARTMENT BUILDING
3 DECEMBER
THE men gathered for the evening's intellectual exercise were able to doff their heavy coats and throw them in the bedroom. The apartment was small enough and they were numerous enough that their natural body heat warmed things up enough that sweaters sufficed to keep the comfort at a bearable level. The bottles of vodka, as was customary in that part of the world, were kept out on the windowsill in the freezing temperatures to get cold enough for proper drinking. The host was a bachelor professor of history and he had purchased some bread, sausage, and cheese at a small shop on the corner for the enjoyment of his guests.
As usual there was no agenda for the evening's program, but the various discussions eventually narrowed down to one particular subject as they always did. The big topic was to express opinions on the question of whether the tenets of Islam could actually allow secular nations in the Middle East that could govern as true democracies. This set up some lively exchanges as the more devout insisted that it was a case of such governments adapting to religion, not the other way around, that would be the most beneficial to the people. Those less inclined toward worship argued that until the domination of Islam lessened considerably, there would never be any sort of true freedom or exchange of ideas.
Caldwell and Khumar sat off to the side, listening for the most part while making a contribution now and then. Generally, when the pair was not out at the digging site, they avoided any exchange of information or intelligence for security reasons. But this time Caldwell was forced to break that rule. As the evening's activities drew on he found it difficult to control his impatience. Khumar, who had gotten to know his friend quite well during the long hours of their friendship, sensed something was going on.
.
0230 HOURS
CALDWELL and Khumar made sure they were not the first to leave the apartment. It was best if they drifted away with several of the others to lessen the appearance of a close rapport. When they left, they accompanied four others out into the hall and down the stairs to the foyer. After brief good-byes, everyone walked out into the cold, with Caldwell and Khumar going down the street to where the Land Rover was parked.
Caldwell kicked the engine over, slipped it into gear, and pulled away from the curb. He drove slowly along the street with the wipers whacking at the snow falling against the windshield. I have some information for you.
Khumar chuckled. That will be a change. It is usually I with intelligence to impart to you.
This will give your commanding officer the excuse to do what he's been longing for.
Khumar glanced over at his friend. This should be interesting.
The Russians have made a deal to sell the entire opium poppy harvest of the Pranistay Steppes to the Taliban.
Khumar nodded. Am I correct in assuming you are discussing Aleksander Akloschenko and his syndicate?
You are, Caldwell said. And the convicts hanging out in the Kangal Mountains are up to their ears in the plot.
Khumar turned his eyes back to the front, smiling slightly. Caldwell reached over and turned the heater on as they continued down the street.
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THE PRANISTAY STEPPES
4 DECEMBER
IT hadn't taken Lieutenant Bill Brannigan long to organize his small army into a cavalry strike force. He pulled off a remarkable mobilization of his Pashtun allies through the efforts of Chinar making a demanding gallop to the friendlies' four villages. Within two hours of the young in-terpreter's Paul Revere imitation, every fighting man was at the SEAL bivouac, fully armed, equipped, and mounted for battle.
The Skipper's American command consisted of a total of four fire teams with two section commanders and a pair of SAW gunners. He would leave his headquarters intact to act as a mobile command post but break down the fire teams in separate echelons. His native contingent consisted of one hundred ten Yousafzai and eighty-five Janoon warriors.
Lieutenant Jim Cruiser and his gunner, Tex Benson, would go with the Bravo Fire Team. They would take fifty-five fighting men of the Yousafzai tribe with them. Alpha Fire Team under CPO Matt Gunnarson would be an independent group with forty-three Janoons. Ensign Orlando Taylor and his SAW man, Doug MacTavish, had Delta Fire Team, along with fifty-five Yousafzai tribesmen. Charlie Fire Team, under the capable leadership of PO1C Gutsy Olson, reinforced with forty-two Janoons, made up the final combat element.
Brannigan knew the group who had slaughtered the Yousafzai villagers could be anywhere on the Pranistay Steppes. They fact they hit the smallest hamlet among the Pashtuns who refused to cooperate with them was a sure sign it had been done to set an example. After a consultation with Awalmir and old Quajeer, the malik of the Janoons, he determined the next assault would more than likely be the smallest Janoon community, which boasted some fifty fighting men. Since all the warriors of both tribes were now away from home and joined up with the SEALs, every bucolic little town on the steppes was in dire danger. The Skipper knew he had a bit of time on his side since the Russians would want to gather the entirety of their Pashtuns before striking out against the Yousafzai, Janoons, and SEALs. At this time it was an accepted fact that the ex-Soviet convicts were aware that Americans were in the area, though they probably had no idea of the exact number. However, with somewhere around 340 armed horsemen, they would be in a very confident mood even if they might have taken some casualties during the massacre.
.
0630 HOURS
LIEUTENANT Bill Brannigan had hoped to begin his operation two hours earlier, but the undisciplined Pashtuns had an annoying habit of wandering off to chat with friends and relations from other villages, going somewhere to tend to nature's calls, or brewing a pot of tea to share with their comrades. The Yousafzai, thanks to Awalmir and his chief lieutenant, the one-eyed Paywastun, were the first to gather their fighters into a group to be divvied up per the SEAL commanding officer's instructions. Not until Brannigan appointed a Janoon commander and subcommander did that tribe's men assemble properly. Those two leaders were Ghairat, a veteran of the war against the Soviets, and his brother-in-law Pamir who, though in his early thirties, had also fought the invaders.
When the Brigands first arrived on the steppes, Brannigan had ordered that all important locations, terrain features, and villages be noted using the GPS devices. All this data had been entered on everyone's tactical maps. The Skipper used his chart to figure out the combination hunt-and-destroy missions for that day. Brannigan ordered Chief Matt Gunnarson to take his fire team and the forty-three Janoons assigned to him to the smallest Janoon village. A little figuring had indicated they would be following an azimuth of seventy-two degrees.
The rest of the detachment would fan out on evenly spaced vectors toward the east in the search for the enemy force. Brannigan and his three SEALs in headquarters would go due east on ninety degrees. Their LASH systems gave them a marked advantage over the bad guys. An important piece of intelligence brought back by Andy Malachenko from his undercover work was that the Russians had no effective communications capabilities. That not only meant they would have trouble staying in touch, but could not split up too far from each other or they would lose all unit integrity.
When the preliminaries were taken care of, the teams of Americans and Pashtuns married up. All had bandoleers stuffed with ammunition, weapons locked and loaded, horses properly prepared, and every swinging dick was in the saddle and ready to rock and roll.
/> Awalmir was with Cruiser while his able assistant Paywastun rode with Orlando Taylor. Ghairat of the Janoons had been assigned to Chief Matt Gunnarson while his fellow tribesman Pamir would be the senior native under Gutsy Olson.
Now Brannigan sat his horse in front of the assembled force. A quick survey from left to right gave him ample evidence that they would never be better prepared than at that moment. Go! he yelled, then added in Pashto, Lar sha!
The War of the Pranistay Steppes had begun.
Chapter 25
THE PRANISTAY STEPPES
4 DECEMBER
0945 HOURS
CHIEF Matt Gunnarson pulled his compass from his parka pocket and looked down at it in his gloved hand. During the more than three hours of travel across the steppes, one staggering disadvantage of the operation had immediately become apparent. The lack of language skills among both the American SEALs and the Pashtun fighters was causing confusion and a certain amount of pessimism.
Fire Team Alpha, made up of the chief petty officer, Tiny Burke, Pete Dawson, and Joe Miskoski, maintained a diamond formation for all-around security. However, the forty-three Janoons with them had proven completely unmanageable. Matt's attempts at conversing with Ghairat to get him to maintain closer management of his men proved futile. Neither man knew enough of the other's language to establish clear, unmistaken communication. The results were that the Pashtuns pretty much ambled along as they pleased, some keeping a watch on the horizon while others chatted among themselves as if the ride was no more than a recreational exercise.
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