Raid on Afghanistan, page 23
“You have any trouble with the kids?” he asked her eventually.
She shook her head. “Only the one thing. They asked me if I would ever arrest you if you did something wrong.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“I said that if you were bad, I’d have to put the handcuffs on you like anyone else.”
He smiled. “I guess so.”
“And you know what, Kyle Nolan?”
“What?”
“You’ve been bad. Shall I show you how I handcuff my suspects? Or would you prefer to show me?”
He laughed. “Are you always this forward with the criminals in your life?”
“Only one criminal, Mister. Now take me to bed and fuck the living brains out of me. I’ve been waiting long enough.” She paused, and looked serious. “Kyle, only if it’s okay.”
He thought for a moment, and his look was equally serious. Then his face split in a smile. “Bring the cuffs, let’s go.”
He’d gone back on administrative duties, but his active service was off limits for the next six months because of the arm. In the event, Carol decided they needed a vacation, ‘to get to know each other’. They’d discussed where to go. He’d hung back at first, but in the end had to admit that he’d like to just see Afghanistan, and visit the country as a civilian, not as a Seal.
“I’d like to see it too,” she enthused. “Especially, as it’s a country you’ve seen a lot of service in. I guess there weren’t many good memories.”
“No, not too many. But maybe there were one or two good things.” He thought of Najela, the granddaughter of Abraham Dur. The old man had died in the effort to save her from the clutches of the Islamist warlord Gemal Rahimi.
“There’s someone I’d like to see. She’s a girl we brought out of the enemy camp, and she’d been kidnapped as a present for the warlord.”
She closed her eyes. “Jesus, what kind of people are they?”
“No one you’d care to meet on a dark Saturday night. But they’re the minority. The vast majority of Afghans are just ordinary folks trying to get on and survive in a hard land.”
They flew out a week later and landed at Kabul International Airport. At first, it felt strange being ‘In Country’, yet without a mission and without even a sidearm. They had a twenty-minute drive to the Kabul Serena Hotel, a modern building that so far had avoided the suicide bombers and mortar attacks that blighted the Afghan capital. Nolan left Carol in the hotel suite while he went to a pre-arranged meeting with a friend, a fellow Seal who was serving a tour in Afghanistan. They met at the back of a downtown bar, and the PO1 handed him a package. They exchanged few words, and Nolan left to return to the hotel. Carol was in the shower, so he checked out the pistol he’d obtained, a Colt Caliber .45, M1911model. The PO1 had supplied it with two spare clips, which gave him a total of twenty-one rounds, seven in each clip. He tucked the pistol into his belt, and put the clips in his coat pocket as Carol emerged from the bedroom. She raised her eyebrows.
“Do you think you might need that?”
“This is Afghanistan. Who knows? But if the shit hits the fan, I’d like to think I could defend us.”
“Kyle, I thought we were here for a vacation,” she objected.
“We are. But everyone carries guns here, even the mailman.”
She sighed. “Okay, but let’s try and steer away from the trouble spots. What have you got lined up for us?”
He explained about Najela and Abraham Dur. After they’d left, she’d gone to Jalalabad to live with relatives. Her parents were both dead, after they’d repeatedly protested to Rahimi about his abuse of their daughter.
“I just want to go and visit, see how she’s doing. It’ll be a chance for you to see the countryside between Kabul and Jalalabad, and we’ll take a look around that city too.”
The journey to Jalalabad was not what she’d expected. They had a hired SUV, a Toyota Landcruiser, and they occupied the center spot sandwiched between an Afghan Army Humvee and an American Infantry Stryker Armored Car; the hatch battened down, and the turret constantly swiveling as the gunner inside searched for targets. The convoy was a mix of civilian vehicles, supply trucks for the NATO ISAF forces, and Army escorts. The Afghan Army officer had reassured them that the road had been checked that morning for IEDs.
“It is completely safe, and you will enjoy your visit to the lovely city of Jalalabad. My brother-in-law runs a restaurant there. Here’s his card. He’ll give you the best meal in the whole of the city. Tell him I sent you.”
Nolan thanked him and tossed the card as soon as he’d gone.
“Do we have to travel like this?” Carol asked, looking at the grim array of armed and armored troops.
“It’s the best way. The Taliban and Al Qaeda are not too fussy where Westerners are concerned. If we were on our own, the chances are they’d start shooting, or more likely they’d take us hostage. You wouldn’t like spending a couple of years as the guest of the Taliban until someone decided we’re worthwhile enough to ransom. Besides, I don’t think a burqa would suit you. Blue’s not your color.”
“Definitely not,” she said adamantly.
After that, she made no more comments about the security.
Jalalabad was filthy, noisy, and dusty. They found Najela in the kitchen of a large house on the outskirts, and Nolan introduced her to Carol. Her relations had given her a job as a cook. She came out of the kitchen with a tray of cold drinks, fresh lemonade, and they sat in the garden. She looked fine. Well dressed and with little of the half starved, terrified waif she’d been when they rescued her not too long ago.
“How do you like it here?” Nolan asked, anxious about her working in such a lowly job. But he needn’t have worried.
“They are good to me. I have my own room, and they give me a wage. That is more than most women in this country have, so I feel fortunate. And you, Chief Nolan, have you recovered from your ordeal in my country?”
She was perceptive. It had been something of an ordeal, and a risk too, with the possibility of a blackout at any time. He suddenly realized that the blackouts had stopped totally; the death of Mohammed Gul had been a catharsis for him. But not a total catharsis, and it was good news about the blackouts. It was a part of his life he’d sooner not revisit. He looked back at Najela.
“I’m fine, yeah, good. But back to your own situation, is everything okay here for you? No problems?”
She hesitated. “Well, there is one small problem. An old friend of yours has been bothering me. He is the soldier who commands the City Defense Force. He wants me to, well, to spend time with him, and I do not like him. He seems to think that because I was Rahimi’s whore, I could be any man’s who wanted me.”
Nolan was alerted. If there were someone who knew about Rahimi’s personal arrangements, he would likely be an enemy. How else would he know?
“Who is he, this soldier?”
“His name is Siddiqi, Colonel Abdul Siddiqi.” She saw Nolan’s expression change. “You do know him?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “If it’s the same man, yes. He was with us as a guide on a mission before we got you away from Rahimi. He was a major then, and he was injured during one of our missions.” He grimaced. Tortured would be more correct than injured. But he didn’t need to go into that with Najela.
She described the man, and Nolan nodded. It was without doubt the same man.
Carol gave the girl a warm smile of encouragement. “Would you like Kyle and me to have a chat with him if he’s bothering you?”
Her eyes lit up in alarm. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. He has friends in the local insurgent groups, the Taliban. If he tells them that two Americans have been interfering, they may well make my life very difficult. They can come down very hard on single women.”
Nolan absorbed her objection for a few moments. It seemed that Major, now Colonel Siddiqi, had connections to the Taliban. That was interesting, and it tied up with something he’d been told when they finished the mission to destroy the bombmaking facility on the mountain. Agnetha Bergmann had taken him to one side as they landed at Bagram.
“Mr. Nolan, that officer who was tortured.”
“Yeah, Siddiqi, what about him?”
“I’ve seen him before, with Gemal Rahimi.”
“Okay,” he’d nodded tiredly. “I’ll mention it to our intel people.”
He’d reported it to a disinterested Army Intelligence officer, who promptly filed and forgot it. As did Nolan, until Najela mentioned Siddiqi and a possible Taliban connection. That had brought Agnetha’s previous comments back to him. He thought back to that mission, and remembered the reason why Bravo Platoon was detailed to take the mission in the first place. Because of the ambush and destruction of the previous Seal platoon sent to take out Rahimi. An ambush could only have been the work of a traitor. He looked at the young Afghan girl.
“Najela, I will talk to Siddiqi, but I promise you he won’t know that we’ve spoken to you. All I can say is, he won’t be bothering you again.”
She looked worried, but grateful. “I hope you will be careful. He is a very dangerous man.”
“We’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
They stayed chatting another half hour and left.
“She’s a frightened girl, that Najela,” Carol observed as they drove away.
“Yeah, you can’t blame her. They killed her parents, as good as killed her grandfather, and kidnapped her to be the whore of a warlord. It’s amazing she hasn’t lost her mind. A lot of women have gone crazy in this country. Two and a half thousand women or girls attempt suicide every year, due to domestic violence and just plain poverty and hardship. Social disorder, loss of loved ones, displacement, food insecurity, illiteracy, drug addiction; they’re a massive problem here. And there’s a lack of access to any healthcare services, partly as a result of the unending wars. All told, they reckon there are nearly two million women and girls in the fifteen to forty age bracket that have severe depression. So if Najela has kept sane, she’s one of the tough ones. She’s a survivor, and she’ll get through it.”
“Unless this army officer takes advantage of her.”
“Siddiqi, yeah. Carol, listen. I have to see this guy. Can you find a restaurant or a hotel, someplace to stay for a while?”
“You’re joking, Chief Nolan. I’m not a member of your platoon. If there’s business to be done, I’ll do it with you, we do it together. Besides, I’m a San Diego cop. I’ve had plenty of experience of dealing with you military types. San Diego can be a rough town on a Saturday night.”
“If you’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I will. But like you, I don’t like going unarmed. Is there anywhere in this town I can get a gun?”
He grinned. “Jesus Christ, Carol, you’re some cop. You want me to obtain an illegal weapon for you?”
She didn’t return the smile. “Yes, I do. I want to stay alive, and it seems to me in this country that means going armed.”
He nodded. “Okay, let’s go see what we can sort out for you.”
If she was coming with him, things could cut up rough, so a weapon was maybe a good idea. No, it was definitely a good idea.
They got a cab into the downtown area. It was mid-afternoon, and although much of the place was closed, Nolan found what he was looking for. The meanest, nastiest looking bar imaginable, and in Afghanistan that was something. The bartender brought them drinks, and Nolan indicated a seat.
“I want a word, buddy. Do you want to make some big money, fast?”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Sure, yes. What do I have to do?”
“I need a pistol, and I need it in the next half hour.”
The man shrugged. “Sure, what kind of pistol?”
Carol goggled. It was as if Nolan had asked him for saw to cut down some timber. This was supposed to be a war zone, and yet illegal weapons were clearly easy to obtain in a country where almost every man seemed to carry a gun. No doubt a timber saw would have been more difficult.
“I need something light, small, a Glock 17, something like that.”
“One moment, I will ask.”
He went back to the bar and used the phone. A few minutes later he was back.
“One thousand dollars, US.”
“Five hundred, that’s all I’ll pay, and I want a spare clip and ammo.”
“Seven fifty.”
“Done.”
Ten minutes later they walked outside with the barkeep. A woman stood there, wearing the traditional blue burqa. She produced a package wrapped in dirty brown paper from under her robe. Nolan turned his back to the street and checked inside the package, handed over the cash from his wallet, and the gun was theirs.
“We need to get back inside the bar. You can ask to use the bathroom, and hide the gun in your purse. Then we’ll go and see our good friend Colonel Siddiqi.”
They found him in the Afghan National Army barracks just off the main square. At first, the sentry wouldn’t let them through, but Nolan assured him they were old comrades in arms. He pressed a ten dollar bill into the man’s hand from his almost exhausted supply of dollars, and the sentry sent for a messenger, an army private, to take them to the Colonel’s office. When they walked through, the door the office was empty. But they heard noises coming from a nearby room, accessed through another door behind the large, imposing desk. The messenger walked across and knocked on the door.
“Colonel Siddiqi, Sir, there are two people to see you.”
“Tell them to fuck off!” he shouted. “I’m busy. I’m in a meeting.”
“But Colonel, they are Americans.”
There was a short pause. They could hear a female voice, pleading with him, crying. Then the sound of a blow, like a fist striking soft flesh. Then he spoke again.
“Tell them I will be out in a few moments. My meeting is ended.”
They waited, and the Afghan Army private watched them nervously, obviously overawed to be in his Colonel’s office with two foreigners. Finally, the door opened and Siddiqi emerged. His face was flushed red with exertion, and he was tucking something into the back of his pants, presumably his shirttails. His eyes widened when he recognized him.
Was that a look of fear? Yes, probably. This bastard has a lot to answer for.
Colonel Siddiqi put on a confident smile and held out his hand. The Seal ignored him, and the Afghan officer scowled.
“You’re doing well, Colonel,” Nolan greeted him. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Yes, thank you, I have been fortunate.” Siddiqi started to relax. Then he realized the private was still in the room. He gave him a hard stare. “Get out.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The man stumbled away. “Now, what can I do for you, Sergeant Nolan?”
As he waited for a reply, Siddiqi strapped on his Sam Browne with his pistol holster.
“It’s Chief Petty Officer Nolan,” he corrected him. “I’m Navy, not Army.”
“Chief Petty Officer, yes.”
“Who gave you your promotion, Colonel? Was it Mullah Omar?”
Siddiqi smiled. “A joke, yes, very funny.”
“Why is it funny? You work for him, don’t you? For the Taliban?”
“No, of course not. I am a commissioned officer in the Afghan National Army.”
“Yeah. When we landed at Bagram, after we got off that mountain, Agnetha Bergmann talked to me about you. You were a friend of Gemal Rahimi, weren’t you?”
The Colonel didn’t reply. He looked nervously around his office, perhaps for an escape route.
His chance came when someone knocked on the office door and started to open it. Siddiqi didn’t wait. He darted back through the inner door and slammed it shut. They heard the key turning in the lock. The man who’d just entered was a sergeant, and he carried a Russian made Kalashnikov AK-74 assault rifle slung on his shoulder. He gave them a suspicious look.
“Who are you? Where is the Colonel?”
Nolan nodded at the door. “He’s in there, buddy.”
Then they heard Siddiqi’s shout from behind the door. “Sergeant Faheem, kill them! They are assassins, here to kill me. Shoot them, quickly!”
The Sergeant unslung his rifle, but before he could level it, Nolan had his pistol out.
“Don’t even think about it, buddy! Put the rifle on the floor.”
Faheem looked desperately around him for a way to fight back, then lowered the rifle. But at the last minute, he swung it back up, and tried to loose off a shot. He was too slow, much too slow. Nolan’s response was automatic. He fired twice, and the man fell to the floor, already dead from a bullet to the heart when the second bullet entered the brain.
“Shit, that’s done it. I need to get to Siddiqi before they charge in here.”
“I’ll hold them off,” Carol said grimly. “You just finish your business with that Afghan bastard. Did he really cause the death of a whole platoon of Seals?”
“Yeah, it looks that way. Watch yourself, they won’t be long getting here.”
She nodded, and he launched himself at the door. The lock splintered immediately, and he fell through and almost lost his footing. Siddiqi was clambering out through a window at the other end of the room. He ran to head him off, but the Colonel had a head start, and he jumped onto a metal fire escape and started to ascend. Nolan went after him. When he climbed out, he could see the building was four stories high, and already Siddiqi was almost at the roof. The man popped a shot at him from his service automatic, but it was wild, and Nolan ignored it. He went up the iron steps at a run, and when he reached the roof, he went over at speed, rolling to the side to avoid being a target.
