Sniper Elite: One-Way Trip

CHAPTER 39

The mood around the base was pretty somber. News of Sandra’s finger amputation and the subsequent troop pullout from the Panjshir Valley had been a double whammy to most everyone’s moral. At least with Bazarak surrounded they had felt like something was being done for Sandra. Now, though, the overwhelming feeling was that she had been left behind, and that didn’t sit well with any of the American forces based in the Afghan Theater of Operations, much less her fellow Night Stalker pilots, the Army Rangers, and Navy SEALs — a number of whom had risked lengthy prison terms in the unauthorized rescue attempt.

There was little or no talk about another unauthorized mission. What little talk there was was nothing more than blowing off steam, and none of it took place in front of the officer corps. The president himself had made it very clear through General Couture that any unauthorized action of any kind would be punished to the full extent of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and no one wanted to risk being charged with entering into the planning stages of such a mission.

Opinions of the president’s decision to pull out of the valley were equally divided. Half the troops in the ATO at least sympathized with the president for wanting to spare Sandra any additional torture. The other half, however, were busy putting themselves in Sandra’s shoes, boasting that it would be better to die on American terms than it would be to die at the whim of a lunatic Muslim cleric. They wanted to attack right now with every available fighting man and wipe the village of Bazarak clean off the map.

Newly released from the hospital, Captain Crosswhite limped into the ready room in the hangar where Gil, Steelyard, and a number of other SEALs — many of whom had taken part in Bank Heist — were sitting around smoking cigarettes and nipping from a pair of illegal whiskey flasks.

Gil flicked the butt of his cigarette into a dented steel trash can and grinned. “I expected you to be on a plane back to Kandahar by now.”

“Shit,” Crosswhite said, reaching to take a cigarette away from a very junior SEAL sitting near the wall. “They don’t want me back down there.” He took a long drag from the smoke and gave it back. “I’m persona non grata. Soon to be dishonorably discharged — or worse.” He winked at Steelyard. “Like my buddy over there.”

Steelyard chuckled. “If I was ten years younger, I’d be humping the Panjshir Valley as we speak. As I am, I wouldn’t do anybody any good. Sucks getting old, boys — remember I told you that.”

There were a number of dutiful chuckles.

Crosswhite took a seat and reached for the flask.

“That a good idea for you right now?” Gil asked.

“Hell, no.” Crosswhite tipped the flask. “Thanks, I needed that. I just got cornered outside the hospital by John Brux. He said he flew in here to thank me for trying to rescue his wife. I told him he didn’t have to thank me for a fuckin’ thing. I asked him if he wanted to walk over here with me to thank the rest of you Bank Heist boys, but he asked me to do it for him. He’s pretty down at the moment. I guess nobody gave him the news about Sandra’s finger until a few hours ago. He says nobody wanted to be the one to tell him.”

“Jesus, can you blame them?” Alpha said.

Crosswhite’s face lit up, noticing Alpha for the first time. “Hey, Leper! Your pecker drop off yet?”

The room broke up in laughter and Alpha jumped up, turning in a circle to give them all the finger with both hands. “Right here, motherfuckers!” He grabbed his package. “None of you fucking pussies would have acted any different.”

Even Gil was having trouble suppressing a smile. He caught a glimpse of Forogh signaling to him from outside the ready room and slipped quietly out into the hangar as the jokes about Alpha’s Bank Heist meltdown began to fly.

“What’s up?” Gil asked guardedly, expecting Forogh to level more complaints about the interrogation.

“I need to talk to you,” the interpreter said. “Alone.”

“Look, Forogh, if it’s about the interrogation—”

“No, it’s not about that,” Forogh said in a hushed voice.

“All right, come on.” Gil led him out behind the hangar, where the two of them climbed up into the back of a deuce-and-a-half truck.

“Okay, what’s eating you?”

Forogh stared at him, as if taking a final moment to make sure of himself. “I have family in Bazarak.”

Gil felt his skin turn to gooseflesh. “How much family — a lot?”

Forogh shrugged. “Many uncles, cousins. They fought with Massoud against the Russians.”

“Do you think you can get in there with the place being under HIK control?”

Forogh nodded. “My uncles will vouch for me. No one in my family knows that I work for American Special Forces.”

In his mind, Gil was suddenly halfway to Bazarak. “Do you think you could get in there and find out where Sandra’s being held? Would you be willing to try?”

“Yes,” Forogh said. “I’m worried, though. I don’t trust the CIA.”

“Don’t worry,” Gil said. “We’re not telling SOG. We’re keeping this a nice tight little unit. But first I gotta get permission.”

This confused Forogh. “Permission? But you just said to forget about SOG.”

“SOG’s not in authority now.” Gil bumped him on the shoulder. “I’m talking about getting permission from a higher source. Give me two hours, then meet me back in the hangar.”

Gil went to his quarters and dug out the iPhone he’d gotten from Joe the night of Operation Tiger Claw. He’d spoken with Joe since and talked him into letting him borrow the hi-tech PDA indefinitely.

He typed out a detailed message and sent it off to Langley, Virginia. Then he lay on his bunk to take a nap. An hour later, he received a lengthy answer to his message and jumped up to go find Major John Brux.