CHAPTER 52
Daoud’s boyhood friend was a short, whip-thin man named Reshteen. He had widely set brown eyes, a flat, thick nose, and a bushy beard dyed henna red.
He ushered his guests into his home and quickly shut the door behind them. They removed their shoes and entered the living room, where two of Reshteen’s young sons were laying out small dishes of cold food and a pot of warm tea. The room was lit by a small oil lamp, which threw off just about as much heat as the old, rusted stove in the corner. They had come up considerably in altitude and Harvath could feel the cold seeping right into his bones despite the clothing he was wearing.
Daoud and Reshteen spoke for several minutes while Harvath studied their faces. He could follow the direction of their conversation simply by their expressions. He had always been good at reading people, but his time at the Secret Service had taken him to a completely different level.
He could tell they were talking about Massoud and the Taliban now. Both men had become very serious. Daoud was doing most of the talking, while Reshteen seemed to respond only with one-or two-word answers.
Turning to Harvath, Daoud stated, “The men passed through here in two groups, several hours apart, but they all went to the same place.”
“The grazing pasture,” replied Harvath.
The interpreter nodded.
Flash 22 had done a high-altitude pass on their way back to Bagram and had relayed everything back over the radio to Fontaine as they made their way to Dagar. If Reshteen had said that the Taliban weren’t here, or that he hadn’t seen anything, then they would have had a problem. So far so good.
“Did he see Dr. Gallo? An American woman with red hair?”
“In one of the first trucks that came through there were two women in burkas.”
Two women? Did the Taliban have more than one female hostage? Had they brought along a woman to watch over Dr. Gallo? Harvath doubted it. Watching Julia was the job of Massoud’s retarded brother, Zwak. Most likely, the Russian had put Julia in a burka to disguise her appearance and had dressed up Zwak or one of Massoud’s other men in a burka as well. That way they’d be a lot less obvious. People would remember a bunch of Taliban riding around with one woman, but two was less suspicious, especially when they were trying to make their getaway as discreetly as possible. That was what Harvath would do, and he was willing to bet the Russian thought along the same lines.
Just for clarification, Harvath asked, “Do the Taliban normally bring women with them?”
“No, they don’t,” replied Daoud. “They also never come at this time of year.”
That was enough for Harvath. What he needed now was someone to guide them to a position where they could observe Massoud’s camp without being discovered. He put the question to Daoud and waited for the man to speak with Reshteen and translate his response.
“He says it is impossible,” the interpreter finally responded. “The road passes through a narrow canyon and the pasture is surrounded by sheer cliffs.”
“There has got to be some way.”
“Only if you come over the mountain from the other side, but even then there are very few places to hide. Massoud chose the location very carefully.”
“The pasture abuts part of the Tora Bora cave complex,” offered Harvath. “Do any of the caves interconnect? Could we somehow approach that way?”
The interpreter spoke with his friend. After a brief exchange, Daoud reported, “Some of the villagers know the caves, but none of them will go into them for fear of booby traps. They say only the al-Qaeda know which tunnels are truly safe.”
On a whim, Harvath asked about the Lake of Broken Glass and if Reshteen had ever heard of it or seen anyone in the area with SCUBA equipment.
“Na,” the man answered.
Harvath wasn’t surprised. It would have been the ultimate irony if Massoud and the Russian had gone to all this trouble only to discover they’d been sitting atop bin Laden’s pot of gold the entire time.
Fontaine nudged Harvath. “What’s the Lake of Broken Glass?”
“It’s a wives’ tale,” replied Harvath. “Something that might have to do with where bin Laden hid his money.”
“Where’d you hear about it?”
“Like I said, it’s a wives’ tale,” replied Harvath, who, despite all of Fontaine’s help, still had no desire to read him in on how he and Gallagher had snatched Mustafa Khan from the Afghan government.
Changing the subject, Harvath ran through their options once more aloud. “Now, since there’s only one road into Massoud’s camp, that doesn’t sound like it is going to work for us. The tunnels are too dangerous and we couldn’t find a guide even if we wanted one. There’s only sparse cover on the rock faces around the pasture, and to get to those, we’ve got to come over the mountains from the other side. At this point, it sounds like that is our only option.”
“Maybe not,” replied Daoud, who had been simultaneously translating as Harvath spoke. He waited for Reshteen to finish saying something to him and then stated, “There may be a way you can use the road.”
“What do you mean?”
Reshteen spoke for several more moments and then Daoud said, “As I told you, my friend does not like the Taliban or al-Qaeda. Neither do the people of his village. But they are not stupid. If he helps you, he knows what could happen to him and the rest of the people in Dagar.”
“Please tell your friend that I don’t like al-Qaeda or the Taliban either, and I am willing to make this worth his while, but we have to keep this quiet. I don’t want to run this through his shura. We’re too close now.”
Daoud smiled. “He does not want to run it through his shura either.”
“So what does he want?”
“He wants the summer grazing pasture.”
“Does he want me to help buy it for him?” replied Harvath. “Because it is not mine to give.”
Daoud’s smile remained as he said, “I have told him of your relationship with Massoud’s shura and in particular with the elder, Baseer. This grazing pasture once belonged to Reshteen’s grandfather, but he lost it to the Taliban when he couldn’t pay his debts. Reshteen’s family still graze their flocks there in the summer, but Massoud charges very heavy fees for it.
“After what you did to Massoud’s men already this evening, I have told Reshteen that I have every confidence you can do so again. If you defeat Massoud, you will be able to convince Baseer to return the pasture to its rightful owner.”
“First of all,” said Harvath, pointing at his own eyes to emphasize the point, “I only want to go up there to look.”
“For the woman,” replied Daoud.
“Exactly. Once we confirm that she is indeed there, we’ll consider our options and decide what our next move should be.”
“Na, na, na,” replied Reshteen as Daoud translated.
“What’s wrong?”
“He says he has an idea, but you would have to leave very soon.”
Something like this was extremely dangerous to rush into. “Let’s hear his idea, first.”
Daoud spoke to Reshteen and then listened as the man laid out his plan. Then he relayed the information to Harvath. “There are many Taliban up at Massoud’s camp. At least forty men. They came in a hurry, with very little supplies. They have no fuel for cooking or heating the buildings there. They have no food and no water.”
A smile spread across Harvath’s face. “And let me guess,” he said. “They asked Reshteen to gather these things and bring them to them.”
Daoud’s head bobbed from side to side and he turned his palms upward. “They asked Reshteen’s cousins, but it is the same thing. Reshteen will be one of the men traveling up to the camp to deliver the supplies.”
“Will he take us with him?” asked Harvath.
“If you promise him you will take care of Massoud and that he will get the pasture, he will take you.”
Harvath, who was sitting across from the Afghans, leaned forward and said, “Once I have the girl, I guarantee you I will take care of Massoud. And once that is done, I will do everything in my power to get that grazing pasture returned to his family or I will buy him another, even better pasture.”
As Daoud translated, Reshteen tugged at his red beard. Slowly, a smile began to form at the edges of his lips.
When the man finally nodded, indicating they had a deal, Harvath said, “Now let’s talk about how exactly Reshteen is going to get us up there.”