Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘You’re right, let’s carry on.’ Harry braced himself for the challenge of hiking out of their current predicament.

  ‘I’ve experienced worse in training,’ said Phil. ‘I’ll tell you about it sometime.’

  ‘Another time, let’s get warm first. Let’s get walking.’

  It was another seven kilometres direct walking down a reasonable, if narrow, path. The snow after the first kilometre had not been as intense and, apart from diverting around some small huts, the two men had fared better than expected. One of the huts had smoke coming out of a rudimentary chimney. They gave it a wide berth. It was late afternoon, and the light was starting to dim as they reached the junction of the valley where the village of Arkhaw lay.

  ‘It’s down there, no more than two kilometres,’ Harry said, studying the map.

  ‘We better keep out of the valley,’ replied Phil. ‘Take a route on the eastern side, about two hundred metres up from the valley floor. If we’re lucky, we can make it in an hour, pitch tent and settle in until we’ve checked out the village.’

  ‘We may even see Habash,’ Harry said.

  ‘We’ve got the night vision goggles, although why he would be walking around in the open on a night like this is beyond me. Still, the logical and rational no longer appears to be his style. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be up here in this awful place.’

  ‘You mean, tucked up in bed with Yanny in Amman would be a better proposition?’ Harry joked. It was a joke in bad taste, but it lightened the moment.

  ‘Yes, he must be mad if this is his idea of heaven. We better ensure we’re prepared for a raving lunatic regardless of how smart this guy is meant to be.’

  The final hike to a position overlooking the village proved to be relatively easy. A track, apparently used by the local villagers in better weather conditions, easily negotiated.

  ‘It’s an American Special Forces tent, two man,’ Phil said as he took off his rucksack and began to unzip it. ‘I bought it in the bazaar in Fayzabad. Someone stole it, no doubt.’

  ‘Then we should thank that person profusely,’ said Harry. ‘At least we’ll be safe and dry. Let’s pitch it and have some of the American Army emergency rations I picked up there.’

  Two hours later and with a clear vision, Harry and Phil took it in turns to watch the village with the goggles. A small community with no more than a dozen houses, it was sufficiently sheltered from the weather and only a light sprinkling of snow covered the area. It was clear that, of the ten or more houses in the village, only four or five were occupied. There was no sign of security and no sign of people, apart from the occasional person briefly leaving the warm confines of their house to make a call of nature.

  ‘I can’t see anyone,’ Phil said on the first watch, ‘at least, not of any significance. How are we meant to recognise Habash? He won’t be standing up wearing a suit and tie.’

  ‘Ask Yanny,’ replied Harry. ‘She may know of some particular trait. Most people have a distinguishing habit they’re not even conscious of. Have you updated them to our position?’

  ‘Not yet. I was focussing on the village. It may be best if you try now.’

  Harry waited for the call to connect. It took nearly twenty seconds for the phone to connect to the satellite. ‘How are you all back there?’

  It was Steve who answered. ‘We’re okay, safe and sound in Fayzabad. More importantly, how are you two? We saw the snow come in, but there was nothing we could do to help.’

  ‘We survived, nearly froze to death,’ replied Harry. ‘We’re sitting up from the village, tent erected with some food in our bellies. We’re trying to pick anyone of note down below.’

  ‘Is there any help you need? Anything you want?’

  ‘Apart from a warm bed and a willing participant, there’s only one thing.’ Harry’s humour had returned after the hot meal and a respite in the tent from the cold wind. ‘Ask Yanny if Habash has any distinguishing characteristics, any mannerisms that may allow us to identify him.’

  ‘Let me ask her.’ The line went quiet, but Harry could hear the conversation in the background. ‘Yanny, how will they recognise Habash? Is there anything he does that’s distinctive?’

  ‘He’s left-handed, at least in most things. He tends to be ambidextrous. Have they found him?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Steve replied. ‘Harry, did you get that?’

  ‘Loud and clear. I’ll hang up now, preserve the batteries.’

  ‘We’ll be monitoring this line at all times,’ said Steve. ‘Call when you’re ready.’

  It would be another two days before Phil and Harry phoned in again. The weather had worsened and the visibility even over the short distance to the village, spasmodic.

  ‘At least we’ve got camouflage here,’ said Phil. ‘We’re not likely to be disturbed by any villagers and their goats.’

  ‘Yes, but at what cost?’ replied Harry. ‘This is not the most comfortable and, apart from a few people, we’ve seen little of note. If Habash is here, he’s certainly making it difficult.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t know we’re here.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re here, so I don’t see why he…’ Harry failed to complete the sentence.

  ‘Stop complaining and focus on that individual down there,’ Phil pointed to a figure who had exited one of the huts. ‘Is he holding a satellite phone?’

  ‘It looks like a phone, but it certainly doesn’t look like Habash,’ said Harry.

  ‘What did you expect him to look like now? He’s gone native.’

  ‘That would explain the beard and the headgear. A remote villager would not have a satellite phone.’

  ‘What else can you see?’ Phil asked.

  ‘He’s holding it in his left hand. Could it be our man?’

  ‘What hand do you hold your phone with?’ Phil posed the question.

  ‘Always in my right hand,’ said Harry. ‘But then I’m right-handed.’

  ‘It must be Habash!’ What do you think?’

  ‘Almost certainly,’ replied Harry. ‘We need to let the others know.’

  ‘Steve can figure out what we should do,’ Phil said, elated that their stake-out may have borne a result.

  ***

  The figure that Phil and Harry had been watching remained fixed in his position outside the hut. He was unaware that others were intently checking out his posture and mannerisms with the aid of some expensive stolen American Army technology.

  Samir Habash was a troubled man who had left the sanctity of a warm hut and a warm yet conversationally limited female child. His frustration had caused him to come out into the biting cold to phone for guidance. He was wrapped in a blanket to keep himself warm, but it offered little in the way of insulation. He paced on the spot to maintain circulation while he spoke.

  ‘Sheik, it has all gone wrong. Our plan for the people of Palestine has not been as we had hoped.’

  ‘We misunderstood the resolve of the Jews,’ the Sheik said. ‘If they had acted as we had hoped, then the deaths would have been unnecessary. And if you had not been distracted by that woman, this may not have happened.’

  ‘I accept your criticism. She did not cause the spread of the disease worldwide. She was not responsible for the inability of our people in the occupied lands and in Egypt to control its spread.’

  ‘And now we know she was an agent of the CIA,’ said the Sheik. ‘Did you not suspect, or were you so consumed with love that you failed to notice?’

  ‘I never suspected. It was Rehmani who told me.’

  ‘It is unfortunate that, to further our cause of freeing of the Palestinian people, we are forced to deal with unscrupulous villains who practice tyranny in the name of religion,’ the Sheik said.

  ‘He is neither religious nor dedicated to the cause of the Taliban.’

  ‘We always assumed that. Why do you think he is hiding in a remote village, hundreds of kilometres from his leadership?’

  ‘Sheik, are you suggesting we inform
them?’

  ‘Once he has served his purpose, then gladly.’

  ‘What is his purpose?’

  ‘It is only to achieve our aims, no more.’

  ‘And how do we achieve this?’

  ‘You still have four crates. Are they with you?’ the Sheik asked.

  ‘They are here, but access to the village is difficult. Where do you believe we should take them?’

  ‘'There are only two countries that can exert the necessary pressure. One can force unity amongst our Arab brothers. The other can control the Jews.’

  ‘Are you suggesting we attack both Moscow and Washington?’

  ‘That is what I am suggesting,’ the Sheik said. ‘The millions will not have died in vain if we ultimately achieve success.’

  ‘And what is to become of us?’

  ‘It is clear that our lives will be lost to the cause. I have been playing the Israeli Secret Service as a double agent. It is only a matter of time before they discover the truth. As for you, there is little hope. Your ex-girlfriend – and I hope she is an ex – is in Fayzabad, pretending to be with the Red Cross.

  ‘She is clearly my ex now.’

  ‘Then, that is good. We move forward. I will send some people up to take the crates.’

  ‘And what is to become of Rehmani?’

  ‘If he objects or gets in the way, you are to kill him.’

  ‘But I am a man of peace. I have never killed a man before.’

  ‘You have been responsible for the deaths of millions.’ The Sheik needed to remind him. ‘Your days as a man of peace are behind you. You and I are doomed to early deaths. The only way we will delay that date is to kill as we need. It is for the people of Palestine that we do this. Is this clear?’

  ‘Sheik, it is clear. It is your wisdom that has guided me all these years.’

  ‘Prepare the crates and, when the people arrive, you are to leave with them.’

  ‘I will be ready. Where is to be our destination?’

  ‘That will be clear later. It is better that you do not know. Those looking for you have very persuasive methods.’

  ‘It is unfortunate that it has come to this.’

  ‘What do you mean? What did you expect?’ the Sheik said. ‘That someday you would be hailed as a saviour of your people? The Jews were never going to let you live, even if they capitulated at the first attack. You have always been destined to be martyred for your cause.’

  ‘Yes, I see it all now.’

  ‘Then that is good. You may be a brilliant scientist, but you are a fool in many ways.’

  ‘Sheik, as always, you are correct. I will accept my fate. I will do my part,’ Samir Habash said.

  ***

  The second phone call that Phil and Harry made to the team in Fayzabad generated a lot of excitement. Steve put it on conference and dialled in Ed and Uri. The President of the United States was listening in, but it had been decided that only Steve would speak. Yanny and Bob were out administering medical aid to the local community. She had become difficult and agitated on their return from dropping off Phil and Harry, and Bob had suggested, insisted even, that she had better come out with him. Her mood had improved and each night subsequent she had arrived back at the hotel late and gone straight to bed. Fahim and Zouhair were out at the airport maintaining a vigil. The helicopter was in remarkably good condition compared to the others littering the airfield. They knew that if left unguarded, it would be missing a few parts by the time they next needed to use it.

  ‘It’s Habash, we’re certain of it,’ Harry said.

  ‘We know it is. We’ve taken a voice print,’ Steve replied.

  ‘How did you do that?’

  ‘The CIA has some pretty impressive technology. As soon as we contacted Ed after your earlier message, they started monitoring the conversation. We didn’t get it all, only that they know we are in Fayzabad, and they’re planning to move four crates of the virus.’

  ‘There’s another target?’ Harry asked.

  ‘That we didn’t get. The best we can do is to get the crates and pick up Habash. He’ll spill the beans once our boys have worked on him.’

  ‘I hope Yanny didn’t hear that?’ said Harry.

  ‘Thankfully, she’s not here at the present moment. What if there are more crates than this four?’

  ‘Who was he speaking to?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Arab, someone in their fifties, sounded distinguished, cultured accent, probably not Palestinian.’

  ‘So how will they find him?’

  ‘A voice print is already with Uri. They’ll run it through their system. He’s confident there’ll soon find him.’

  ‘How long before they have his identity? Harry asked again.

  ‘He reckons in about four to six hours.’

  ‘Then he’s in for their special treatment?’

  ‘They’ll probably let him run until we’ve wrapped up Habash.’ Steve assumed that all interested parties were safe until the threat of the virus was removed.

  ‘We’ll place an extra setting on the rock that we call a table for when you get here,’ Harry joked.

  ‘Thanks. We should be there within twelve hours. What’s the situation? Are there any sentries guarding the village, any menacing characters walking around?’

  ‘None from what we can see. If it’s Abdul Rehmani, he’s a devious and shrewd player. He would not want too many men with guns who, given the right incentive, would have no compunction to shoot him.’

  ‘Then I see no issues for us to come at full speed,’ replied Steve. ‘The only problem is the other group retrieving the crates. I still think we’ve got a head start. There doesn’t appear to be anyone here in town that could mount a quick retrieval.’

  The phone conversation concluded with the President taking the opportunity to congratulate Steve and his team for the good work.

  It took Uri only five hours to confirm the identity of Habash’s contact. He phoned Steve back. ‘It’s Mohammad Al-Rashid, which surprises us. We had always regarded him as a moderate Arab, a person we could do business with.’

  ‘Is that the same Mohammad Al-Rashid we met in Abu Dhabi?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Yes, we’ve got full monitoring on him now.’

  ‘Are you bringing him in?’

  ‘Not a chance. We need to know what he’s up to first.’

  ‘What about the retrieval of the crates? Does he have people in Afghanistan he could rely on?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Maybe. We’re not sure. We’ll let you know if anything comes up, but at this present moment, it would be safe to assume that he doesn’t.

  ‘That’s not good enough for us. We don’t want a fight out in the Hindu Kush that we could never win.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Uri, ‘but it’s the best Mossad can do at the present moment.’

  ***

  Mohammad Al-Rashid, aware that his time on earth was limited, put in place plans for the attacks on Moscow and Washington. Devious as only a double agent can be, he had further use of Rehmani. Unaware even to Habash, and unseen by Harry and Phil, he was in conversation with the Taliban commander via a second satellite phone in the village.

  ‘Rehmani, I need people in Washington and Moscow. Is that possible?’

  ‘All is possible for Allah and a price, you know that,’ replied Rehmani.

  ‘Yes, I know that only too well and your price is always high. How much do you want for a major attack on both cities?’

  ‘One million dollars for each, and then I can leave this godforsaken place.’

  ‘I will deposit the money in your account in the usual manner.’

  ‘And what is to become of your protégée? Is he to come with me when I leave?’

  ‘He has disappointed me. I will leave you to deal with him. The crates are all that matter now.’

  ‘I understand. I will ensure that he will not leave this place. As a sign of our friendship, there will be no extra cost.’

  ‘How can we get the crates ou
t? What’s the condition of the road up to the village?’

  ‘The road is passable to within two kilometres,’ replied Rehmani. ‘From there, it is no more than a one-hour walk. I can arrange some locals to carry the crates if you so desire.’

  ‘Then please do. Can you get them to Baharak? I will send a helicopter to pick them up.’

  ‘That can be arranged, but why Baharak?’ It is easier to land at the village, the weather is calm. Where will the helicopter take the crates?’

  ‘I have already sent a plane from here to pick them up in Kunduz. The local Warlord is amenable as long as enough money is applied.’

  ‘Yes, I know him well. He is a good man to do business with. It would be preferable if I go with the crates. Would that be agreeable?’

  ‘Yes, as long as you are able to arrange the planting of the crates in the cities that I have mentioned.’

  ‘That is not a problem. I have people who will disperse the sprays gladly. Misguided fools, but what do we care as long as they follow instructions?’

  ‘As long as they follow instructions, then you are right, what do we care?’ Mohammad Al-Rashid was discussing tactics with a man that he despised, a man that represented the worst of his religion, a man he would gladly have killed at a later date.

  ‘What of the others, the infidels?’ asked Rehmani.

  ‘They are in Fayzabad. They may know where you are.’

  ‘I will deal with them. How long will it be before your helicopter is here on the ground?’

  ‘At first light. Be prepared to leave the instant it touches down,’ Al-Rashid said.

  ‘I will let Habash believe he is coming and then refuse him entry at takeoff,’ said Rehmani.

  ‘You must kill him. Do you understand? He knows too much. He knows where I will take the crates.’

  ‘I will kill him just before my departure. It is unfortunate, as I have given him my daughter as a wife and now she will be left grieving.’

  ‘I thought you cared little for women?’

  ‘That is true, but I would have preferred not to kill her husband.’

  ‘Do what is necessary and get the crates.’ Al-Rashid ordered.