Combat Ops

EIGHTEEN

It took another thirty minutes to finally get Gordon on the line, and we switched to a video call, which was a little grainy, with some boxy dropouts, but I still could note the old colonel’s deep concern.

“You know I’m caught in the middle here, Scott. I didn’t want to send Warris. Keating’s taking a lot of heat, and he’s got no choice but to pass the buck. You know how this works. I’m getting ready to tell them all where to go.”

“Me, too. Well, there’s no media here, so unless Zahed and his people get on Al Jazeera, we’ll be okay. I don’t know about his contacts in that department, but suffice it to say we haven’t got much time.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Obviously, you want me to rescue Warris.”

“Not exactly.”

I sighed deeply. That phrase was becoming a knife in my back. Then again, maybe they were writing off the young captain? No way. They couldn’t be. “Sir?”

“We might be able to use Warris’s capture to justify a big offensive in the area. It’s what that place really needs anyway. Some big units moving through and sweeping out the cockroaches. It’s too damned corrupt to send you guys in there to take out one man. The guy’s laying low, and if he does move, they’ve got him disguised. We even thought they might’ve moved him in a body bag from one part of the village to another. I’ve got nothing actionable to hand you at this point.”

“So you’re giving up on my mission?”

“No, you’ve still got time to do what you can. It’ll take another two weeks for the logistics to be worked out. They’ll need to pull some people out of Helmand. But once that happens, Zahed won’t know what hit him. However, the Ghosts can save face by pulling Zahed out of there before the hammer drops.”

“So you want me to get Zahed and rescue Warris, but you want me to take my time on the rescue op.”

“Obviously this call is not being recorded and the transmission is fully encrypted,” he said with a wink. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t confirm that. But hell yes, son, you need to begin some negotiations, but buy us the time on our end.”

“What if they torture him? What if he spills his guts to those bastards?”

“We’ll have to take the hit, because higher believes that securing Kandahar and the outlying areas—”

“You don’t need to finish,” I told him while sighing in disgust.

I leaned back from the cubicle and glanced around the comm center. I was wearing headphones and the screen had glare protection, so no one could peer over my shoulders.

And at that moment, I stopped calling him “sir.” I’d known Buzz Gordon for a very long time, and that was the most tense few moments I’ve ever had with a CO. “Buzz, I need your advice on something.”

“Glad I’m still good for something.”

“I, uh, I can’t tell you everything.”

“Scott, it’s me.”

“I know, I know.” I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “I’ve got a problem with Ramirez. I want you to know that if something happens to me, you’ll need to confine and question him. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Whoa, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying I got a problem.”

“Scott, what’s going on out there?”

“If it comes down to it, I just want you to question Ramirez, all right?”

“I’m shocked. He’s one of the top five operators we have, and you’re telling me you think he’s going to frag you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would he want to do that, Scott?”

“Like I said, I’m not in a position to tell you everything.”

“You don’t need to protect me.”

“I know. I’m trying to save my own ass here.”

“So let me give you the company line here: You’re the on-scene commander, and I expect and trust you to resolve the situation in a professional and expeditious manner. You have been and will continue to be put in situations where you have two competing obligations.”

“I understand.”

“And now as a friend and fellow soldier, I’ll tell you this: If Ramirez is a problem — in the way that you suggest — then, for the good of the Ghosts, for the good of all operators, you need to address that problem.”

“In any way I can?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you consider that an order?”

“You know I can’t.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “Yeah…”

“Scott, I wasn’t aware it’s gotten that bad.”

I couldn’t meet his gaze. “Well, Harruck’s babysitting the governor on our base, the spook is working on something that involves the Chinese smuggling in HERF guns, and the local police and Army are nonexistent. So yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Gordon shook his head. “Two weeks, Scott. Get Zahed. If you wind up rescuing Warris early, then do it if you have to, but if you can sit on your hands, then do that, too.”

“All right.”

I couldn’t help but rejoice over his order to delay rescuing Warris. And I couldn’t believe the irony of that, either. Warris’s capture was giving them an excuse to break out the big guns and finally put some steel on terrorist targets. Maybe they were realizing that COIN operations needed some teeth behind them.

Then again, I wondered how effective even a major offensive might be. Word would get back to Zahed that forces were moving toward Sangsar, and he would just skip town until the fireworks were over. Then he’d come back and set up shop once more. Just a vicious circle. We had to get him before he left. They needed to cordon off that entire village.

When I left the comm center, I got word from the main gate that someone had come to see me: Shilmani. I went out there and had a seat on the tailgate of his water truck. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to help you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

I shouldn’t have hesitated. But I did. “Okay, I trust you.”

“Then change your clothes. Burki wants to see you. I’ll wait here for you.”

“We always travel in pairs. I’ll need to bring another soldier.”

He didn’t flinch. “Okay.”

When I walked into our billet, several of the guys came over to me, and Brown said, “We think Ramirez is sick. He’s been throwing up since you guys got back. Nolan’s taking him to the hospital.”

“Oh, okay, good. Treehorn?”

The big guy looked up at me from his bunk. “Yeah, boss?”

“Get dressed like an Afghan. We’re going for a little ride.”

“You got it.”

I headed to the back of the billet, where Nolan was handing a canteen to Ramirez. “Come on, bro. You need to go over there.”

Ramirez, who was wearing only his skivvies now, shook his head.

“Hey, Joey, you okay?” I asked, my tone more of a challenge than an expression of concern.

He could barely face me. “Perfect.”

“Then why are you throwing up? You didn’t look sick a little while ago…”

He snorted. “You see that crap they’re serving in the mess hall? I guess it takes a while to seep into your guts.”

“Well, I hope you feel better. Soon.” I walked back to my bunk and began changing. Before I was finished, Nolan and Ramirez pushed past me and headed outside.

Brown lifted his head from his bunk. “Hey, Captain? Everything okay? I’m getting some bad vibes from you and Joey.”

“We’re cool. I’m just worried about him.”

“We’re worried about you.”

I drew back my head. “Me?”

“Yeah. You got a lot of pressure. We lost Matt. Warris is out there. We get new orders yet?”

I gave a short nod. “I’ll brief you guys when we get back.”

Shilmani drove Treehorn and me to one of two shacks positioned along more foothills on the far west side of the town. The shacks rose improbably from the dirt and pockmarked hills, and they looked as though they’d been there for centuries. Long rows of water jugs were stacked on a rickety framework, and two more pickup trucks were parked behind them.

Two men with AK-47s sat on the roof of one shack, and the rickety ladder they’d used to ascend to their perch leaned against one wall, casting a long shadow.

They eyed our group with deep suspicion, and I was glad to move into the cooler shadows of the first shack, where the water man sat on a thick carpet and sipped tea, along with a much younger man, who suddenly shot to his feet as we entered.

Shilmani gestured that we take seats on the crimson-colored toshak.

“We’ll have some tea first,” said Burki.

“Thank you,” I said, settling down on the cushion and making sure the soles of my feet were not showing. I muttered for Treehorn to do likewise and to remove his sunglasses.

Shilmani poured us cups of tea, which we quickly accepted.

The young man stood in the corner, just watching us. His beard was short, his eyes fiery. If he had a weapon, I’d say he wanted to use it on us, but thus far he appeared unarmed.

“How is the new well coming? I haven’t had time to go out there.”

Burki’s English wasn’t very good. Shilmani translated, and Burki said, “Oh, good, good, good. A lot of water!”

“He sounds happy,” I said to Shilmani.

“He is. Even with the Taliban cutting into our profits, we’ll still have a very good year. The solar-powered pump is a brilliant idea.”

“Not mine,” I said.

“But great nonetheless.”

“How are your wife and children?” I asked.

“Very well,” he answered. “Perhaps some time you could join us again for dinner. My children have a lot of questions about America.”

“I’ll try to answer them.”

Shilmani grinned, then leered up at the young man in the corner.

“Who is he?”

“Just the bodyguard.”

“He wants to kill me,” I said.

“Me, too,” Shilmani said with a smile. “I hate him.”

Burki leaned forward and gave me a long appraising stare. “I want you to kill Zahed,” he said slowly.

I drew back my head and looked at Shilmani, who simply nodded.

“What’s going on now?” I asked.

Shilmani spoke quickly, “We had a deal with Zahed for the water coming out of the new well, but he has chosen to break that deal and increase his demands. So we have chosen to kill him — and we will hire you to do the job.”

“Okay,” I said matter-of-factly.

Treehorn looked at me: Are you nuts?

I winked at him. Then faced Burki and made the money sign. “How much will you pay me?”

He looked at Shilmani and spoke rapidly, and I could only ferret out every third word.

“He says we’ll pay you with information rather than money.”

“Tell him I said that’s very clever and I appreciate this offer. I will kill Zahed. How can he help me?”

Shilmani and Burki spoke again, then Shilmani said, “We will set up a meeting for you and Zahed. He will think you are one of the opium smugglers I told him about. You will come with us. And when the door closes, you will put a bullet in his head.”

“Okay.”

“Captain, I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

I looked at Treehorn. “Thanks. No other opinions needed.” I faced Burki. “How soon can we meet with Zahed?”

“Soon.”

I turned to Shilmani. “Ask him about our captured man. Does he know where our guy is being held?”

After a moment of conversation, Shilmani turned to me and shook his head. “No idea. But Zahed would want to question him himself, so probably in Sangsar.”

“Ask him what he thinks the best-protected place is in that town.”

Shilmani did. Both men laughed. Shilmani turned to me. “He says the police station. The jail. But it is probably too obvious.”

We had dozens of maps and intelligence on Sangsar, but sometimes that intel did not indicate the function of some buildings unless streaming satellite video of the comings and goings of the inhabitants made it obvious — or if there was, of course, a sign on the building.

I drew an imaginary rectangle across the carpet and said, “Can you tell me in what part of the town we would find that building?”

Shilmani already knew. He pointed directly in the middle of the rectangle. I sighed. Of course — as deep into the town as you could get.

“So if I kill Zahed, your boss gets to keep all of the profits.”

“That’s what he thinks, but you and I know better.”

“We do?”

“There’s always another man to take over for Zahed.”

“Yes, there is. Do you know who that might be?”

“I have a cousin who works as a courier for Zahed.”

“You do? Why did you wait to tell me?”

“To protect him. And my family.”

“I see.”

“I will get more information from him.”

I finished my tea and smiled at Burki. “I really appreciate this help.”

He raised a brow. “Okay, okay.” He made a gun with his fingers. “You kill Zahed.

As we drove back through the town, we took a side street that ran parallel to the bazaar. A few kids on old bicycles were racing along the street and pointing as they passed the alleys. A huge crowd had gathered along the shops and stalls, and I could see people throwing things into the center square. Were those rocks? I couldn’t quite tell.

“What’s going on?” I asked Shilmani.

“Nothing. Never mind. We have to keep going.”

“No way,” I said. “Pull over.”

“Please, Scott. You don’t want to go there.”

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t understand.”

“You heard me. Stop this car.”

Shilmani took a deep breath. “You have to promise that if I stop, you will not interfere.”

“What are you talking about?”

He pulled over, threw the car in park. “You’ll see.”