by Eric Meyer
Hosseini was close enough to overhear. “You shot one of my men?”
He scratched his head and looked thoughtful. “Well, now, it’s like this. He was trying to shake us down, pointed a machine gun at us, and said he’d fill our SUV full of holes if we didn’t pay him a bundle of dollars. I figured there was one way to deal with a crook like that, so I put a bullet in him. Save you the trouble of taking him to court, which would make your precinct look bad. Could even get you fired. Like I was saying just the other day to my pal, the Minister of the Interior in Kabul, talking about how bad graft was in parts of the country. I guess you won’t want me to mention your guy with the machine gun.”
The Sergeant stared back at him with hate-filled eyes. “I will deal with it personally.”
“You will?” Ivan sounded delighted the guy was so obliging, “That’s good to know. Were you just leaving?”
“Leaving, yes.” He swung on his heel and signaled to his men, led them out the gate in a straggling line, and started the walk back to Mehtar Lam.
Ivan was ebullient. “What a helpful guy. A pity all our policemen aren’t like him.”
“Yeah, isn’t it just?” Stoner felt uneasy.
How come he turned up just at the right time? Almost as if prearranged, but that’s impossible. Still, he’s right, we were lucky, a close-run thing.
They shuffled their feet during the uneasy pause, until Greg strolled toward them and shook hands with Ivan. “We’re grateful to you for turning up like that. Those bastards almost had us.”
“I can see that. A nasty situation, but it’s over now.” He grinned, “I’m always available to help, anytime, you know that. That’s what friends are for, isn’t it, Stoner?”
“Yes. What’re you doing here?”
He waved off the question. “Just passing through, and we heard the shots, so we came to take a look. Lucky we did.”
Greg gave him an eager nod. “It sure is. Why don’t you come inside? Faria will brew coffee, or cook a meal if you can stay for a while.”
He gave that lopsided smile of amusement. “That’d be nice, thanks.” He turned to his shooters. “Gorgy, Akram, we’re to be dinner guests at Greg’s place.”
Faria was quick to serve a typical Afghan mutton stew on the table. Ivan ate with relish, reciting colorful anecdotes between mouthfuls. “Did I tell you about the Deputy Minister of Hajj and Religious Affairs, caught with his pants down in a Kabul brothel?”
Faria smiled. “I don’t recall that one. Do you, Stoner?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose at his surly tone, but she let it go. “Why don’t you tell us, Ivan?”
“Well, sure, it was like this. The cops raided and found it wasn’t what they expected. There were no women.”
"In a brothel?” she said, puzzled.
“It was a brothel all right. But boys instead of girls.”
“Oh.” She looked quickly at the kids, the two sisters and Ahmed, listening intently. The boy chuckled, unsurprised by the deviant behavior of certain men. Kaawa, the older girl opened her mouth to put a question to her mother, but Faria told her to go the kitchen with her sister and refill the jug of iced water. When they’d gone, she glared at him. “Any more stories like that, keep them to yourself.”
“Sorry if I offended you.”
“It’s not a problem. You’re our guests. I want to thank you again for coming to our rescue.”
He grinned again and spread his arms wide, palms up, a gesture of innocence. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”
She returned the smile. “Of course.”
Stoner was uneasy as Ivan went on.
“I do you a favor, and you do me a favor. Friend to friend, right?”
“Exactly. All you need to do is ask.”
“Sure. Like now, I have a job I need taking care of.” He stared at Stoner. “How about it, buddy? Favor for a favor. I just saved your asses.”
He sighed, knowing what was coming. He’d sensed it almost from the start, and he glanced at Greg, who shrugged, and looked back at Ivan.
“Okay, spit it out, what do you want?”
Faria gave the former SEAL a long, hard look. “He saved our lives, Stoner, so don’t forget it if he needs a hand.”
Ivan glanced at Stoner, who shot him a murderous glance and said nothing. Ivan helped himself to more stew, complimenting Faria on her culinary skills. He chewed on a piece of tough meat in silence for some seconds, and finally gazed between Stoner and Blum. “It’s this thing you two guys could do for me. If you weren’t too busy, it wouldn’t take more than a couple of days. Unless you’re not inclined to help out.”
“Of course they are,” Faria asserted. “Aren’t you, Greg?”
“Sure.”
“Stoner?”
He took his time answering, but he knew when the firm jaws of a trap were closing, with him inside it, “Yes.”
Gorgy Bukharin muttered, “Doorak,” and Greg, who’d learned Russian on his father’s knee, looked puzzled.
“Why did you call him an idiot?”
“A slip of the tongue,” he replied smoothly, “I meant something else.”
He nodded. “Ivan, what is it you want from us?”
A shrug. “Like I said before, just a little job that needs taking care of on behalf of certain people.”
“You want a hit,” Stoner interjected, sounding weary, “What’s so special about this one?”
“We have to get it right. The target has the potential to create more trouble than you’d believe. It is important America is seen to have nothing to do with it, the government in Kabul as well. If people thought we’d bumped off their guy, there’d be a national uprising. We must be able to show a clean pair of hands. Plausible deniability, they call it."
“I thought there already was a national uprising. It’s called the Taliban.”
“This guy has the potential for much worse.”
“He’s a bigshot insurgent?”
He inclined his head. “As you say, an insurgent, and yes, he’s a rising star. A new kid on the block, and he’s started making waves. Suicide bombers jumping onto Army vehicles, shouting Tarzi’s name like it’s going to earn them a trip to Paradise. He’s recruiting fast. Give him a few weeks or months, and he’ll have the means to stage a full-blown insurrection. The country will erupt in more blood and shit than we’ve seen so far.” He grinned, “What do you say, a couple of days, no more than three? This one is worthwhile. It’s a legit target.”
“You want us to kill a guy, just one man?”
Faria’s eyebrows rose, and she wasn’t happy. “There’s been more than enough killing close to our home.”
Ivan assumed an outraged expression. “Did I say kill him? I never said that. That’s not what I meant at all. I have a shooter. What I need is someone to use their skills and knowledge of the terrain to watch his back. That’s all, no more.”
Blum and Stoner swapped glances, and each gave the other an almost imperceptible nod.
Stoner stared at Ivan. “Okay, we’ll do it, as long as it’s anywhere in the world except Tora Bora. That place is the asshole of hell. I’m not going back there, not for anything.”
Silence dominated the table. Greg asked the location of the job. He looked from face to face, and his voice was almost a whisper, “Tora Bora.”
Stoner’s expression changed to anger. “The hell you say! Jesus Christ, Ivan, there’s no way we’re going back to that hellhole. No way.”
“You haven’t asked me the name of the guy I recruited for the job.”
“I don’t give a shit who it is, the answer is no.”
“You’d let a friend down? A guy who saved your asses more than once.”
He let the breath hiss out between his teeth. “Okay, who is this mystery man?”
The answer was the last thing they’d expected. “His name’s Wayne Evers, the guy who got you out of Tora Bora. Mountain man,” he chuckled.
“Wayne E
vers?” both men said in unison.
“The same. He’ll do the job. He just needs someone who knows the area to back him.”
His face adopted a serious expression. “This job means a lot. The target is bringing the crazies crawling out of the woodwork. The Pentagon and the State Department are both going nuts over him. He could overturn everything we’ve fought for in Afghanistan.” He paused, and his expression changed, “Did I say there’s a big bounty on his head? Split three ways it would still make you rich.”
He got up and left the table. Walked outside, and they all followed.
“I don’t want your money,” Stoner spat at him.
”How much is the contract worth?” Greg asked.
“Two million dollars.”
He whistled. “Two million dollars split three ways, that’s over six hundred and fifty thousand each, a lot of cash. Enough to put the girls through college, Ahmed through medical school, and we could even take a vacation,” he smiled at Faria.
She didn’t return the smile. Her face was stony. “Killing is killing.”
“Each.”
They stared at Ivan. “Each?”
“Each. Two mill apiece.”
Only Stoner was unmoved. “Why is the bounty so high? What’s so special about this guy?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. He’s just another jumped up warlord with a religious card to play to impress his followers. You just go in with Wayne, he puts a bullet in this mother’s head,” he gave an apologetic glance to Faria, “Sorry, a slip of the tongue.”
She nodded for him to continue.
“That’s it. Get in, pop this maniac, and get out. You get the cash, and Afghanistan can breathe a sigh of relief.”
“I’m in,” Greg said at once, “What about you?”
Stoner was thinking, and none of those thoughts were good. He didn’t know how he’d managed it, but Ivan had sucker punched him again. The money was huge, and he knew Greg would go for it, no matter what. Wayne was already signed up, and Greg was his best friend. He also owed Wayne a debt. But it was wrong, and every sense screamed caution.
If they’re offering that amount of money, there has to be a reason. They probably think they’ll never have to pay up. Then again, Greg will be risking everything if he goes, and I can see he’s going. He’s made up his mind. Can I let him go to this place where he might get killed because I refused to help? No.
He nodded to Ivan. “Okay, I’m in. Tell me, is there anything else we should know? Anything you haven’t told us?”
His brow furrowed in thought, a phony gesture, all a pretense.
“Uh, yeah, there is one thing I forgot to mention. The State Department has offered a journalist the chance to embed with the mission, to capture a real, live story. You know the kind of thing, behind the lines covert warfare. This journo has military experience, even including an operation into Tora Bora. She could be an asset to you; quite apart from the fact she pulled strings with the State Department, who leaned on me. The word is she goes, like it or not. It’s not an option.”
“She? Who is this journalist, anyone we know?”
“Her name is Sara Carver. I believe you met her before.”
“Sara Carver? You’re shitting me.”
“Former Second Lieutenant Sara Carver, United States Infantry.”
“I don’t believe it. What do you mean, former?”
“She resigned her commission, said she wanted to get her independence and became a freelance journalist, wants a big story to kick her career into play. You can imagine when she wants something she tends to get it, daughter of the White House Chief of Staff, and goddaughter of the President of the United States. I gather they weren’t too keen, but she applied pressure, and she’s going along.”
Stoner tried to absorb the shock. “It’s crazy, taking along a civilian. You have to put a stop to it.”
“She’s no ordinary civilian. She’s ex-military. Besides, I can’t stop her,” he shrugged, “I tried to talk some sense into them, and I failed.”
“Where is she now?”
He chuckled. “Back in Jalalabad, keeping Wayne Evers company. When I left, they were sitting in a bar. Your bar.”
“Ma Kelly’s? Jesus Christ, that’s no place for a girl like Sara.”
“That’s where she’s at. We’re heading back there now. I’ll give her the good news. I was hoping you’d see sense. You two guys are likely to get the job done and get her back safe. Unlike some I could mention.”
He stared at Gorgy and Akram, his two top shooters, and they returned his gaze with flat stares. They looked like they pitied him.
Stoner still wasn’t satisfied, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Ivan was already walking away, and his men followed.
“I’ll be waiting at Ma’s, Stoner. What shall we say, two or three hours for you to clear up here and get there? We can have a chat, map out what’s needed, and you can catch up on old times with your girlfriend. You can be on your way first thing in the morning.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She never was.”
“Whatever. Don’t take too long getting to Jbad. I’m on the clock, and I’m a busy man. One thing, make a shopping list, anything you need for the job, and I’ll get it for you.”
“How about a squadron of Apache AH-64 attack helicopters?”
“Funnee.” He sketched a mock salute, “We’ll see you soon. Faria, thanks for the meal. It was wonderful. Say goodbye to the kids for me. See you later.”
They left, and Greg glanced at Faria in excitement. “You hear that? Two million dollars, we’re gonna be rich.”
Her face was like stone. “No.”
“What you mean, no? This is a great deal.”
“I don’t want you to go. There’s something about this job, something bad I can feel deep inside. If you go, you may not come back. Stoner, don’t take him with you.”
He shrugged. “It’s not my call, Faria. It’s up to Greg.”
“I’m going.” His face was set in stubborn determination.
She looked sad. “I can’t stop you, but Stoner, promise me one thing. Bring him back, no matter what.”
She meant alive if possible, but if not, return his body for burial. He gave her a curt nod.
“He’ll come back to you, I promise.”
He grinned to ease the tension, but she didn’t return the smile.
* * *
He was silent on the drive back to Jalalabad, feeling almost stunned. That morning he’d been dragged from his bed in the middle of a drunken stupor, forced to fight off the would-be bombers, and a harsh ride out to Greg’s farm in the jolting, bouncing discomfort of the GAZ 69. A skirmish with a bunch of homicidal cops, bent on forcing Kaawa into an undesirable and illegal marriage, and then the encounter with Ivan. He was still suspicious. The timing was too pat. He’d pull out and tell them to go to hell if he could, but he couldn’t. Too much was at stake.
They pulled up outside Ma’s and went inside. First into the bar, and Wayne Evers stood up from the table to greet them. Sara Carver was sitting with him at the same table. Her eyes flashed in his direction and looked away.
Strange, I don’t think things ended that badly last time she was in Afghanistan, so what’s wrong? Her reaction was weird, but who knows what’s in the mind of a woman? Especially a girl as pretty as this one.
He shook hands with Wayne and took a seat opposite the man he’d encountered on the harsh slopes of Tora Bora.
“Damn, it’s good to see you again. What have you been up to, pal?”
He shrugged. “This and that.”
That was it, and he lapsed into silence. Not that the former marine had ever been one for small talk. Ivan and his men weren’t around, and Stoner decided to clear the air with Sara. She was sitting opposite, her face creased into a frown.
“Sara, it’s good to see you.”
Even with the frown she was cute as a button, petite, with bright, dark eyes. A shapely figure, and out of uniform, the cur
ves were more obvious, even more alluring. The Ivy League alumnus and former infantry officer wore tan chinos tucked into elegant brown canvas walking boots, and a fresh, blue cotton blouse under a thin, tan leather safari style jacket with plenty of pockets. Her smile had once been infectious, and he regarded her hard expression for several seconds, measuring how she’d changed, and asking himself why.
When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “You look tired, is everything okay?”
“I keep busy, that’s about it.”
They sat in silence until Greg spoke to Wayne Evers. “It’s good to see you again, Wayne. You look better than I remember.”
Evers was short and wiry as ever, the beard had gone, and he’d cropped his hair short, marine style. The clothes were new, combat style fatigues over a khaki T-shirt. A nod toward his previous military service, as were the battered, black jump boots. He was a man ready for anything, and if anyone doubted his martial abilities, the big pistol holstered on his belt would settle those doubts.
“I’m okay.” He looked around the almost deserted bar and switched his gaze to Stoner. “Business okay?”
“Could be better. Say, how did Ivan find you?”
He shrugged. “I was hiking around near Tora Bora, just like old times, and I came across two of his men about five klicks from the caves. A Russian and an Afghan, they were doing a recon. We recognized each other from before, and they invited me to join them. They were interested in what I’d seen around the caves, and then Ivan asked me if I’d be interested in helping him with this little job of his. He made me an offer, so I said yes.”
“So you’re the trigger man.” Evers was a wizard with a rifle.
He grinned. “That’s me. You know how much he’s paying?”
“I know.”
He spread his arms wide and grinned. “What could I say? With money like that, I could buy my own cave.” He looked around and chuckled, “Or maybe a place like this one. Is it up for sale?”
“No. How about we go up to my apartment, and we can talk some more in privacy.” He looked at Sara. “It’s more comfortable than here.”
She shrugged, gave him an icy look, and said, “I don’t mind. If there’s nowhere better.”
