The Book of Spies

74

Khost Province, Afghanistan
THE COLD chill of the Khost night was getting to Sam Daradar as he stood at the open window of the guard tower with privates Abe Meyer and Diego Castillo. He inspected the headlights of the Humvees approaching, one behind the other, in the far distance. They looked alone and exposed out there in the black night.
"Any sign of trouble?" Sam asked.
"No, sir," Meyer said. "Quiet as usual."
"Get them on the horn."
Meyer flicked on his radio. "Lieutenant, the captain wants to talk to you."
Sam Daradar punched the button on his radio. "Why are you late?"
There was the sound of coughing from the Humvee. "Sorry, sir. I think I'm getting a cold. We did an extra recon around Smugglers' Point. I had a hunch, so wanted to check it out, but there wasn't anyone there or in the valley." His voice was so thick it was almost unrecognizable.
Silently Sam swore. The last thing he needed was illness sweeping through the base. "See anything anywhere else?"
"No, sir. Quiet as a grave." The man cleared his throat.
"I want a full report when you get in." Sam ended the connection. "I'm going out."
Climbing down from the tower, he passed sandbags piled against the wall. Nearby were the Sea Huts that housed the mess and the Tactical Operations Center, and farther were the Butler Huts where his soldiers bunked. The gate unlocked and opened enough for him to slide through.
Hurrying through the light, he reached the darkness and slowed. Letting his eyes adjust, he stared around at the flatlands that rose into hills and then at the high-peaked mountains. To his left was the town. He could barely make out the rough outlines of it. There were a few lights. Nothing unusual. Moonlight shimmered down on the shrubs and clumps of trees around the base. A wind had risen, sighing. He looked for movement, listened for sound, sniffed for odors. He was getting to be as much sixteenth century as the other inhabitants around here.
Turning on his heel, he hurried back inside and up into the guard tower. As he took up his post at the window again, he noticed movement coming from the direction of town. It was a vehicle of some kind, the moonlight illuminating a silvery surface. Strange that the headlamps were not alight.
He put infrared binoculars to his eyes and stared. Dammit, it was Syed Ullah's Toyota Land Cruiser. As he watched, it stopped, and three people climbed out--one was Ullah. They peered at the base and talked. Then one lifted something to his shoulder, aiming it. Sam stared hard. It looked like a movie camera. What in hell was going on?
When the Humvees were about fifty yards from the base, he ordered the gates opened.
The radio sounded. He picked it up, expecting the caller to be the lieutenant reporting he had sighted Ullah, too.
Instead a stranger said, "Captain Daradar, I'm patching you in to Tucker Andersen, CIA. He has important information for you."
Instantly a strong voice announced, "This is Andersen. I've got a story to tell you. I'll make it quick."
Sam listened with growing concern.
When Andersen finished, Sam said, "There've been no attacks in town or at any of the huts in sight of here. I've got a patrol coming in now. I spoke to the lieutenant a while ago, and he said it was quiet in the boonies, too. But Ullah is in the dust bowl near here with two other people, and it looks as if they filmed the base. Maybe they're the Pakistani news crew your informant told you about."
"You know Syed Ullah personally?"
"As well as any outsider can."
"What's he capable of?"
There was no hesitation. "Anything." Sam signed off and snapped to Private Meyer, "Sound the alarm. I want all troops at their stations, and the rest here. Close the gates as soon as the Humvees get inside."
As the alarm blared and orders were relayed over loudspeakers, Sam grabbed his assault rifle and ran down from the guard tower. He waited well behind it, out of view of the gate. The Humvees would stop on the hard-packed dirt in a well-lit area in front of him. Within seconds a lieutenant and a corporal were beside him.
"What's going on, sir?" the lieutenant asked.
"Don't know yet." Sam had a feeling he had the answer, but he did not like it. "Any of the men got viruses or colds?"
The lieutenant and corporal shook their heads.
"Yeah, I didn't think so. I could be wrong about this, but we can't take any chances. I think Ullah's men may be in those Humvees." He told the lieutenant what he wanted him to do.
As more soldiers arrived, the lieutenant directed half to stay with Sam and ran with the rest to the other side of the gate, where they would be out of sight, too.
With a rumble, the Humvees rolled into the base. Sam peered around the edge of the guard tower to check on them. The gunners in the cupolas wore U.S. Army uniforms and helmets. They were dozing over their machine guns. He could not see their faces, and whoever was inside was unseeable, too, through darkened glass. But there were fresh bullet holes in the vehicles. The gates closed behind the Humvees with a clang.
Sam signaled. And four hundred fully equipped, armored, and armed soldiers swarmed out so quickly, the gunners had time only to lift their heads before they were pulled from their turrets and their weapons torn away. It was an overpowering show of force, rows of assault rifles pointed at the Humvees from every possible angle.
For a moment there was no movement. Then the doors opened, and more men in army uniforms stepped out, hands high above their heads, holding army-issue M4s. All were Afghans. U.S. soldiers ripped away the weapons and took the pistols from their belts.
Sam looked up at the guard tower and shouted, "Is Ullah still out there?"
Private Castillo leaned out. "Yes, sir. They filmed the Humvees entering the base, but the light on the camera's off again now."
Sam pushed through his men to reach Ulla's son Jasim, whose tall frame was spread-eagled against the first vehicle. His face was sullen. Sam reached up and grabbed a fistful of Jasim's jacket and tightened it against his throat.
"You want your father to die?" Sam threatened. Then he lied: "I've got a sharpshooter in the tower, and all I have to do is give the order and Syed Ullah is a donkey turd. Tell me what in hell is going on."
The young man's eyes widened. Still he said nothing.
Sam reminded him harshly he was Pashtun. "Your first duty is to protect your family."
In a halting voice Jasim relayed the details of the plan to invade the base and kill all of the soldiers.
Sam hunched his shoulders in fury. He shook Jasim hard once and released him. He barked out an order to his men: "Find out where they left the bodies of our people, then lock him up. Let's move out."
Sam roared out of the base in a Humvee. In other Humvees and running on foot, his soldiers spread in an arc over the flatlands. Ullah's men rose from behind bushes, from holes in the ground, and from behind trees and hotfooted away across the austere landscape. Most would be captured, but not all. But Sam sure as hell was going to catch Ullah.
There was the distant noise of an engine coming to life, and Ullah's Land Cruiser turned in a big circle.
Sam's Humvee and two others lurched over the terrain at a far faster speed than the Land Cruiser, cutting it off as it turned onto the road that led into the hills and to Ullah's villa.
With a bullhorn, Sam blared out his open window, "Get out. Everyone get out! Now!"
M4 in hand, he jumped out of his Humvee and met Ullah and the two others on the dirt road. He was joined instantly by his men, weapons raised.
Ullah's broad face showed surprise, interest, concern. "Captain Daradar, it is very late for you to be patrolling."
"Good evening, Mr. Ullah. There's room in my Humvee for all of you. Your son is asking for you."
At the mention of Jasim, Ullah's black eyebrows raised a fraction, then knitted. It was a small gesture, but from the Pashtun it was everything. With his son in custody, he was not only overwhelmed by force but cornered by the Pashtunwali code.
"Give me your rifle," Sam ordered.
With a flourish, Ullah spun his AK-47, smiled winningly, and handed it over ceremoniously, butt first, the vanquished admitting defeat--for the moment.
What Sam wanted to do was shoot the damn warlord and give the journalists the interview of their lives, but the Kabul government and Uncle Sam would not like that. "Get in. We'll all go back to the base for some American tea."