Raid on Afghanistan, page 10
“I’ll deal with him myself, in my own way, Abraham. But thanks for the offer.”
Dur was silent for a few paces. Then he stopped, and they almost bumped into him. He stared at Nolan.
“If we survive this affair in the town, I may be able to help you find where this Mohammed Gul is, and you can kill him. We will talk again after this is over. But I would ask a favor.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Gemal Rahimi. If we find him before the others, I want him for myself.”
Nolan shivered slightly. He didn’t want to speculate on what Dur had planned for the Taliban commander. “We’ve got a job to do, Abraham, to find the bombmaker. But yeah, if we do run into him, he’s yours.”
Someone needs to cap the guy, and if Dur wants to do it, that’s not a problem.
“Good. I wish to make a very special death for Rahimi.”
Nolan didn’t reply. He noticed that a chill atmosphere had spread to the other two men. Cruelty and brutality were sometimes tools of their trade, to be used only when necessary. But they all knew what the elderly Afghan planned would be something entirely different. Zeke Murray murmured, “Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”
Chapter Five
The end of the tunnel loomed in front of them, and light spilled into the rocky cave from a flickering lantern set in a room overhead. There was a hole in the roof and an old, rotting ladder led upwards.
“We may as well take off the night vision gear. We won’t need it now,” Nolan muttered quietly. “Where are we?”
Dur smiled. “This is my home, up there and through that opening. This hole appeared when the earthquake hit. There were other openings to the tunnel system, too, but I told no one of this. We have a saying, ‘Give up the smallest part of a secret, and the rest is no longer in your power’.”
“You seem to have a saying for most things,” Carl Winters grinned.
Dur nodded. “It can be difficult to survive in this country, where so many have tried to kill or enslave us. We think of these maxims as a set of rules to live by.”
“Do they work?”
Dur grinned. “Only sometimes.”
They climbed the ladder and found themselves in a large room, dimly lit by the light of a rusty oil lantern. The glass was broken, and the breeze made the flame dance around inside. The three Seals ran to the bare windows and looked out. It was early dawn, and they were at the end of a narrow, beaten earth street of about twenty stone houses. They could see the town square at the end of the row of houses, a ghostly display in the chill dawn.
“We’re near the center of the town?”
Dur nodded. “Yes. Gulpari Hotaki is in a house at the end of this street. Do you see the building next to the square?”
They all nodded. It was larger than the rest of the houses.
“It is the Mayor’s residence. She is the guest of honor.”
“Okay, we’ll take it from here. Weapons check, let’s get ready to rock and roll. As soon as the others come up, we’ll move out and take this witch out.”
They checked their rifles, taking out the clips, inspecting the loads, and snapping them back in. They all carried the Sig Sauer P226 automatic with sound suppressors, and apart from Nolan, Heckler and Koch HK416 assault rifles fitted with flash suppressors. They also carried grenades and fighting knives. They looked down as the rest of the platoon started ascending the ladder. When they were assembled in the room, Nolan and Talley went over the plan for the assault again. Talley nodded and looked at Dur.
“What about your granddaughter, Najela?”
“There is a similar house to the Mayor’s residence at the opposite side of the square. She will be in there.”
“And Rahimi?”
“He should be there too, waiting for his reward. Most of his fighters will be quartered in the market. It is a covered area to the west of the town, four hundred yards from the square.”
“Got it.”
Talley got on the encrypted commo, and they patched him through to Creech. He told them exactly what he wanted.
“We’ll light up the targets for you, so far we have one definite. There’ll be others, and we’ll call them in as they appear. Give me a few seconds. I’ll have the first coordinates ready for you. We’ve got a situation here. There’re a lot of hostiles in this town, so when you start shooting, keep hitting them until you’re sure they’re destroyed.”
He called up Vince Merano. “This is Talley. There’s a large market building to the west of the town, about four hundred yards from the square. Can you see it from your position?”
There was a brief pause, and then Merano came back. “Yeah, I have the target in sight.”
“Can you patch through direct to Creech? Light it up, and then keep an eye on the way things develop. They’ll have their birds circling the town. As soon as the shooting starts, give them the order to shoot. They can take out the market building first, then hand them targets of opportunity as they arise. If we need anything else taken out, we’ll go through you, so you’re our main point of contact.”
“Roger that.”
Talley had a last look around. They were still wearing their Afghan dress, and during the night hours may, just may, have passed as locals. It was early dawn, and the light was still poor. Providing anyone who came across them was myopic or had been drinking heavily, they may pass muster. He reminded them that these Taliban types did not drink alcohol, not officially, anyway, so they couldn’t count on the enemy being drunk. But they smoked opium, and it was cheap and plentiful. He looked at the faces of the Seals and grinned.
“Let’s hope they’ve all been smoking their product. I still reckon we look like a bunch of Navy Seals in drag. Best to try and keep out of sight.”
They smiled at the comment. There was a certain tension in the way they held themselves. Yet the tension was purely physical, it was a way of psyching up their bodies ready for action, getting the adrenaline flowing. Their expressions were anything but tense; they were relaxed, even serene. This was what they’d trained for, what they’d sweat blood for. Brad Rose grinned as he summed it up for all of them.
“This is better than surfing.”
“Hooyah!”
Talley nodded at Nolan. “You go first, Chief. Good luck.”
“Yeah, we’ll see you at the rendezvous point.”
Nolan stepped out into the street, and Dur was alongside him. Carl Winters brought up the rear. As they walked forward, they chatted quietly, trying to appear normal, at least, at a distance.
“Can you really help me find Mohammed Gul, Abraham?” the Chief asked.
The old man smiled. “Ah, you can smell the sweet fragrance of revenge, Kyle. Yes, I will do my best. I believe he travels a great deal, inside Afghanistan and to America. I even have a cousin who works for his organization. When the time comes, if Najela is safe, and if we survive this day, I will lead you to him.”
“How can you accept a member of your family working for someone you know has brought such misery to the people in this country?”
Dur laughed. “You do not know my country at all, do you, Kyle? We are a nation constantly beset with enemies, both from inside and outside. It has been so for many centuries. If you are to survive inside Afghanistan, you must have influence in all camps. That is our way, and always has been.”
“You mean you have family inside the Taliban?”
“Of course I have,” he grinned. “Before the split between the tribes of the Northern Alliance, I fought and shed blood for the people who would become the Taliban. At one time, I was in line for a post in the government when they took power after the Soviet withdrawal.”
“What happened?”
Dur pulled a wry face. “The Taliban happened. They brought in their strict interpretation of Sharia law, even though many Muslim leaders were critical of their strict interpretation of Islamic law. They were brutal towards the women, too. Their repression went too far, much too far, and after I made my views clear, I left the movement. If I had stayed, they would have killed me. I have often wondered why they let me live, knowing how I disagreed with them.”
They walked on, Nolan wondering how anyone could survive such a crazy and precarious lifestyle as was required in this country. He jumped as Dur put a hand on his arm, where had he been? He’d been drifting.
Dear Christ, not now! Stay with it, Nolan.
“We are there, Kyle. This is the house.”
The men looked at their target. It was a large house by Afghan standards, with maybe five or six bedrooms, and space on the first floor for a living room, kitchen and an official reception room. Two men stood outside, black turbaned, and armed with AK-47s.
“You will need to remove the guards. If they suspect we plan to attack, they will start shooting.”
Nolan gave him a wry smile. “I kind of figured that one out, Abraham. Carl, Zeke, do ‘em, but not a sound. The bombmaker has to be taken out. She could change the whole balance of power in this part of the world if we let her slip away.”
“Roger that,” the two whispered replies came. The two men slipped forward. They moved skillfully, making use of cover and shadow, and watching every movement of the guards, who never even saw the two Seals coming. They died where they stood, and their bodies were dragged away into the shadows.
“Let’s go,” the Chief said quietly to Dur.
He led the way into the front door, and Carl stood outside, watching their backs while Zeke fell in behind them. They arrived in a spacious entrance hall, the walls covered in rich tapestries, and the furniture covered with exquisite pieces of art.
“I will wait here,” Dur said abruptly.
Nolan stared at him. “I don’t think so, Abraham. We’ll keep together.”
Was he up to something, maybe give a warning to these people? Or was it something else? Maybe the guy wanted to loot, another ancient Afghan tradition? Probably.
“We’ll stay together. Where is this woman likely to be staying?”
“On the second floor. There is a guest room at the front of the house. The Mayor has the room in the center, and there are two guest rooms, one either side. She will be in one of those.”
“How do you know so much about the house?”
He grinned. “Before the Russians came, I was the elected Mayor of Adasabad.”
Nolan raised his eyebrows in surprise. No wonder the guy was so unhappy. He’d sure had a few bad breaks.
“Right. Let’s get up there and find her.”
They went quietly up the stairs, and it was as the elderly Afghan had said. There were three bedroom doors at the center of the front of the house. Nolan used a sign to indicate that Zeke should wait. He signaled to Dur and at Zeke. Wait here! Even to Dur, the meaning was clear. Then he tried the bedroom on the right, turning the handle quietly and peering in. Someone was asleep in the bed, one person. He drew his combat knife and edged nearer. It was a man. He could see the beard. He stooped down and wiped the razor sharp blade across the neck. Paradise was about to have another visitor knocking on the door. He crept silently back out onto the landing and indicated the center door. When he peered in, he almost got caught. There was a man and a woman on the bed. They were in the act of having sex, but it was strange. They thrashed at each other, writhing and pawing at each other’s bodies, yet they uttered no sound. This was Afghanistan, after all, unmarried couples could screw their brains out, just do it on the quiet. He backed out and peered inside the last bedroom. It was empty. Shit! He closed the door and looked at Zeke and Abraham, and shook his head. She wasn’t here. Or was she? A sudden thought came to him. Of course! The bombmaker, Hotaki, was fucking the Mayor. Obviously, the guy had a broad interpretation of hospitality. He looked at Zeke again, and put his mouth close to his ear.
“She’s in bed with the Mayor. They’re screwing each other.”
Zeke grinned. “Interesting. We’ll take ‘em both.”
“Yeah, but they’re awake. Well, obviously.” Both men grinned. Nolan held up his Sig Sauer. “Two shots apiece. We need to get it one hundred percent right.”
Zeke nodded. “Copy that.”
They heard a huge groan from inside the room. Evidently, it had been too much for one of them to wait any longer. It sounded like a man’s voice. The Mayor.
“Let’s do it.”
Abraham Dur watched with interest as they swiftly unsafed their pistols. Nolan nodded to Murray, and they stepped inside the room. The man on the bed lifted his head to look up in annoyance at the two intruders. His mouth opened to take a breath, ready to make a shout of protest, but it was the last breath he would ever take. Zeke’s two shots took him down, one in the body, the other in the head, and he was flung back in a shower of blood. Murray looked at Nolan, waiting for the shot, but the Chief had stopped and was staring at the woman on the bed. She was white, an American or a European. Who the hell was she? She lurched away from the spray of blood that dowsed her from the dying body of the Mayor, who was twisting in his death throes, and stood up. Naked.
“Who the hell are you?” Nolan hissed at her.
She glared back at him, but her eyes were filled with fear.
“My name is Gulpari Hotaki. You’re obviously not Taliban fighters, so who are you? American Special Forces, I imagine. You’re here to kill me?”
They could see her fear was receding. Yet her reaction was unexpected. Something wasn’t right here. She sounded almost relieved. Nolan raised his gun, but something made him pause.
“You’re working to create a nuclear weapon for these people, is that right?”
She hesitated for a few moments, and then nodded. Nolan tightened his finger on the trigger, but something nagged at the back of his mind, his dead wife, Grace. She looked like her, very much like her.
How the hell could he shoot her? It would be almost like shooting Grace.
Zeke Murray glanced at him.
“What’s up, Chief? We don’t have much time. Shoot the bitch and let’s move out.”
“Yeah, wait a moment, Zeke.” He turned back to the woman. “What are you doing here, Ma’am? From your accent, you sound American. Why are you working against your own people?”
He watched her eyes mist over.
Shit, she’s about to cry! She doesn’t look like a tough guerrilla fighter.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You may as well shoot me now. It will be best for all of us.”
“I don’t take orders from strangers, Ma’am. I asked you why you’re a traitor to your own people.”
She slumped back and sat on the edge of the bed. “I had no choice. I am Swedish, not American. My father is Professor Benjamin Bergmann, the nuclear scientist. He came to Pakistan from Sweden on a scientific exchange program and was kidnapped. I was with him. I always work alongside him. He refused to help these people develop a weapon, even if it meant his torture and death. So they forced me to do the work for him, or they would subject him to the most appalling agonies before they killed him.”
Nolan worked to digest the information. Something didn’t ring true, but his thoughts were clouded by the resemblance to Grace. Zeke was staring at him angrily, with justification. He should have just shot the bitch, and yet…
“Your name, Hotaki. It’s Afghan Islamic, so you must have married one of them.”
She nodded, her expression bitter. “Yes, I did. They forced me to change my name after I was married. It was part of the deal, so that they would have a greater hold over me. My husband, so-called, is back in Pakistan.”
“Chief?” Zeke was standing by the door, his Sig Sauer held ready, pointed at the woman. “You want me to do her?”
“No. Go down and guard the front with Carl. I’ll be down in a few moments. I’ll deal with the girl.”
“Copy that.” Zeke lingered for just a few moments, his expression anxious, then left the room. Nolan could swear he muttered something like, ‘Hope he doesn’t go flakey on us now.’ He looked at the woman. She stared back.
“Are you going to kill me?”
She didn’t sound worried. It was as if she’d come to the end of a long, hard road, and a road that would end in her death. A death she would welcome. And he thought he understood.
“Your father. If you die, you think they’ll let him go?”
She shook her head. “No, they’ll never let him go. Not as long as they think they can get what they want from him. He will refuse, and they’ll probably kill him. But at least he has the strength to resist. I don’t have that strength, and I cannot bear to think of him being tortured to death. I would prefer to die, so complete your mission, soldier. Pull the trigger.”
“I’m sorry it has to be this way. But you know that we can’t allow them to get hold of a nuke.”
She grimaced. “I know that, but in the long term it will make no difference. Gul has raised enough money to fill their coffers, so he’ll just buy what they want from someone else. The Russians, maybe, or a rogue Chinese outfit.”
“Mohammed Gul, the drug baron? You know him, too?”
She looked wary. “Yes. You know him?”
“I know of him. That’s the second time his name’s come up. So he’s behind all of this?”
She shook her head. “He’s not the man in charge, no, but he’s near the top. He’s their banker, and his drug deals raise the money to pay for their weapons, everything from AK-47s to the atomic weapons program. They forced me to come here to meet Gemal Rahimi to discuss the final requirements for the weapon. Obviously, it can’t be dropped from a B-52, so it will need to be disguised so they can transport it to their target.”
“Who is the man in charge?” Nolan asked.
“I don’t know, really. Only that he is highly placed inside the Karzai government.”
“Right. And this guy?”
He indicated the bloody body that lay beside her. She laughed bitterly.
“He was just the last in a long line of them who raped me. I am glad you killed him. Thank you for that.”
They both looked at the window as the sound of shots broke the silence of the dawn.
