Why is that, sir? Yarkov asked.
According to these papers, you were in prison for beating a recruit to death in a drunken rage, Andy said. We may have to turn you over to the Russian government for the final disposition of your case.
I was framed!
Well, Andy said, let's discuss other matters now. What about that horrible massacre of an entire Pashtun village? Men, women, and children were slaughtered like cattle.
I know nothing about it.
We understand there was another Pashtun tribe involved, but there were foreigners also.
That could be true, Yarkov said. But if there were foreigners, they would be Tajik bandits. Those rotten bastards have been raiding into Afghanistan for generations. Why would we Russians wish to kill a crowd of Pashtuns?
Who do you sell opium poppies to?
We have done nothing with opium poppies, Yarkov said. But we were planning on taking over next season's crops. The crime syndicate in Khorugh was going to run the show, see? You know Aleksander Akloschenko quite well. He was the fellow in charge of the operation.
Then who would Akloschenko sell the crops to?
Yarkov shrugged. The Moscow Mafia, I suppose.
What about the Taliban?
I was working for Akloschenko, Yarkov said. You'll have to ask him about that.
Andy wrote down a few notes, then put the papers back in his briefcase. When he stood up, Yarkov immediately assumed the position of attention. Andy picked up his cap. This will do for now, Yarkov. But I will be back as we uncover more information.
Yarkov relaxed when Andy went through the door, then sank back down into his chair with a deep feeling of apprehension.
.
1530 HOURS
IGOR Tchaikurov did not have to be told to show the proper respect for an officer. The instant that Andy entered the room in his uniform, the former warrant officer was on his feet. Once again the SEAL turned to his act of angry disappointment.
You lied to me, Tchaikurov! he snapped. You said you were jailed for mistreating soldiers, but we have learned that you killed another soldier and his wife in a love triangle.
I swear I am innocent! Tchaikurov insisted. The woman was having affairs with me and some other fellows. After they murdered the couple, they made it look like I had done it.
The United States government may decide to return you to the Russian authorities over this, Andy said. You had better keep that in mind.
Yes, sir!
Sit down.
Yes, sir!
Let's turn to that Pashtun village that was wiped out, Andy said. How were you involved?
I was not involved at all, Tchaikurov protested. Some of the other fellows went along on the raid for a lark. The Pashtuns did all of the killing. They were angry with the other tribe for betraying them to the Taliban.
Did this involve deals for selling opium poppies?
I know nothing of opium poppies except that we were going to be involved in next year's crops, Tchaikurov said. We were contracted to do the work for Aleksander Akloschenko. You know all about him.
Was he going to sell the crops to the Taliban?
I do not think so, Tchaikurov said, very much aware of the Americans' hostile attitude toward the Islamic terrorist organization. We Russians do not like the Taliban any better than you do.
Just as he had done with Luka Yarkov, Andy ended the interrogation in a manner that made it obvious this would not be the last session.
.
NAVAL AMPHIBIOUS BASE, N1 OFFICE
CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
23 NOVEMBER
1430 HOURS
CHAD Murchison sat in the outer office on a bench along the wall. He was next to a desk manned by a yeoman who was busy updating personnel records on his word processor. The guy reminded Chad of Randy Tooley back at Shelor Field. Both Randy and the yeoman were among the faceless crowd in the armed forces that kept administrative and logistical operations moving along smoothly while underranked and underpaid in the jobs. Their successes were credited to officers who benefited with great notations in their OERs. These commanders, however, were appreciative and smart enough to see to it that these efficient subordinates were kept as happy as possible. These talented individuals were given privileges far beyond those received by less valuable personnel.
The intercom on the desk buzzed and the man answered it. He switched it off, then nodded to Chad. Commander Wilson will see you now.
Thank you, Chad said. He went to the office door, knocked twice, and stepped inside, delivering a salute. Petty Officer Murchison reporting, sir.
Commander Wilson returned the gesture, obviously in a hurry. What can I do for you?
Sir, I've just been returned to duty status from the hospital, Chad said. I received orders to report to a SEAL team aboard the base, but I would like to return to my outfit in Afghanistan instead.
Well, Petty Officer, that's too damn bad, the commander said. This is the Navy and right now we're involved in a hell of a war. Individual wants and desires must be put aside at times like this. We all must do what the Navy wants us to do.
Sir, I am not seeking a cushy berth, Chad said. I want to return to combat.
You can go back to the battle zone when your new unit is ordered overseas, Commander Wilson said. You are dismissed, Petty Officer!
Aye, sir, Chad said, saluting again.
He left the office, walking across the base deep in thought. He had promised himself when he first enlisted in the Navy that he would never take advantage of his status or the valuable connections within his family. But now he had no choice but to do exactly that. He found an open area and pulled out his cell phone. After punching in the numbers for a direct-dial longdistance call to Washington, D. C., he waited for an answer.
Office of the Chief of Naval Personnel.
Hello, Chad said. I would like to speak to Admiral Murchison, please.
There was a pause, then a new voice came on the phone. This is Admiral Murchison speaking.
Hello, Uncle Ed, Chad said. This is Chad. I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.
.
STATION BRAVO, BAHRAIN
BARRI PRISON
LEIGHTON'S OFFICE
24 NOVEMBER
0800 HOURS
FRED Leighton had his feet up on his desk, gazing out the window at the desert sky. Andy Malachenko had taken off the service blue coat and hung it on the rack by the door. He had a notebook in his lap, doodling idly as Leighton thought aloud.
Now let's see, the interrogator mused, both those Russian reprobates claimed they were framed for the crimes they were convicted of... Yarkov says the foreigners at the massacre in the Pashtun village were Tajik bandits... But, on the other hand, Tchaikurov admits some of the Russians were present during the atrocity.
Right, Andy interjected. He flubbed it a bit when he told me the killings happened because the Pashtuns were angry at the other tribe because they had betrayed them to the Taliban. Which makes me want to ask him, 'Then why were the Russians there if they don't like the Taliban?'
Right, Leighton said. Yarkov says the opium harvest is going to be sold to the crime syndicate in Khorugh... then it will go to the Russian Mafia in Moscow . . . but Tchaikurov claims he has no idea who will buy it.
And Yarkov said he knows nothing about the Taliban, Andy pointed out. He says if we want to know about them, we must ask Akloschenko.
Those inconsistencies are a sure sign there is lying being done by both men, Leighton said. But we have some great leverage to bring them down since if we send them back to Russia they'll be shot for those long-ago crimes. The only problem is that we're in a bit of a rush now, so it will take too much time to concentrate on both men. We'll have to choose one to lean on.
Well, Andy said, keep in mind that Yarkov was the head man while Tchaikurov was only a barracks boss and an enforcer.
Right, Leighton agreed. He sat in silent thought for the next few minutes as he turned the sit
uation over in his mind. When he reached a conclusion, he put his feet down on the floor and turned in the chair to face Andy. Okay! You'll concentrate on Yarkov. Here's what you're going to do.
Andy leaned forward as Leighton began giving his instructions.
.
INTERROGATION ROOM
0900 HOURS
YARKOV sat in the chair, sweat glistening on his forehead, as he faced Andy Malachenko. Andy had his cap pushed back on his head, and he had turned the chair around. He sat in it, leaning against the back as he pointed a finger straight at the prisoner.
You're a convicted murderer, Yarkov! If the United States returns you to Russia, some of your comrades are going to drag you to the nearest wall and shoot you! We also know you have committed crimes against the Pashtun people by raiding their territory and even stealing their women. Hell! You know damn well that I have seen them in your town. And many have been made pregnant by you guys. The Afghans may request that we turn you over to them instead of the Russians. What would happen to an infidel in an Islamic court, Yarkov? What kind of mercy would you get from them if convicted of kidnapping and raping Muslim women?
Yarkov's face went pale.
And we know you are up to your eyeballs in dealing opium poppies to the Taliban, Andy continued. All the facts add up to that. One of the biggest and best financed buyers of the crops is the Taliban, who are financed by al-Qaeda and probably Syria and Iran too. Thus it is obvious they are the customers of the crime syndicate because they will pay the most money.
Wait a minute! Yarkov cried. I have no say in who buys the opium.
We have been informed by certain Pashtun tribal leaders that you yourself offered one and a half times the usual price for the crop. I would say that shows you are well financed and directed by the Khorugh crime syndicate. You are one of their lapdogs, Yarkov, and you knew you would be dealing with the Taliban.
I know nothing of any deals with the Taliban! Yarkov protested. The crop was to be sold by Akloschenko. We were never sure who he would sell to. He kept that information to himself. Maybe Marvesky knew about it.
I do not believe you, Andy insisted. It does not add up if you were offering the Pashtuns money for next season's poppies.
It was not my money!
You are lying!
Andy paused a bit to let all the accusations sink into Yarkov's mind. Leighton had explained that the Russian's emotions were going to be swirling at this point, and he would want to reveal the truth. But he needed a good rationalization to do it. Even if he was scared shitless, he was soldier enough not to want to show fear until he absolutely had to. Now was the time for Andy to give the former warrant officer the proper motive to give up all he knew.
Andy got to his feet and leaned across the table. You are under the command and control of the United States Armed Forces, Yarkov! You are subject to that military discipline! And I am an officer in the United States Navy who outranks you! I order you to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! As a soldier you have no choice but to obey me!
Yarkov's military side came out and he leaped to his feet and saluted. Yes, sir! I will tell you anything you need to know!
Good, Andy said calmly. He walked to the door and opened it, gesturing to the guard who stood out in the hallway. Bring Mr. Leighton and a stenographer in here.
Chapter 20
USS COMBS
SFOB BRIEFING ROOM
THANKSGIVING DAY
1230 HOURS
THE tension in the steel compartment was so thick it could have been cut with the proverbial knife. This was the first time that the men sitting on the theater-like seats had ever been in this inner sanctum of Brigadier General Gregory Leroux. The fact they were there foretold matters of the utmost importance in the offing. The other times they had audiences with the general, it had been in front of his desk in his small office. There he had expressed curiosity, praise, criticism, and commentary replete with expletives in a roaring voice. Those sessions were experiences not to be forgotten.
Commander Thomas Carey, Lieutenant Commander Ernest Berringer, Lieutenant William Brannigan, Lieutenant (JG) Jim Cruiser, and Ensign Orlando Taylor maintained a nervous silence among themselves as they sat waiting for the Great Man to appear. The quintet of navy officers glanced at the large map of the OA to their direct front, noting that it was bare of markings and designations usually found on tactical charts. Whatever was coming up was brand-new and completely unexpected.
The door to the compartment opened and the familiar bellowing of Leroux's voice blasted into the interior like the detonation of an 81-millimeter mortar round. Keep your seats! He walked directly up to the front of the audience, grabbing a podium near the bulkhead. He dragged it to a convenient position that allowed him to face the five officers.
Happy Thanksgiving, he said. Nice to see you again. He opened a portfolio he had brought with him, perusing a document inside while continuing to speak. By the way, that was a hell of a fine job by that guy Malachenko. The information he brought back from the little sojourn as well as his participation in the interrogation of those Russians started the boys in G-2 to filling in a hell of a lot of holes in their own files. I take it he has returned to you.
Yes, sir, Brannigan said. He returned late last night by the same chopper that hauled us over here. He came in with one of our wounded men who was returned to duty. So we are back to full strength.
Good, Leroux said. Now he looked at them with a satisfied, almost smug expression. Big stuff going down, yes-siree-bob! We now know the truth about what was behind the rather puzzling order to not interfere with the Pashtuns' poppy harvest next year. It was not I say again was not because of a lack of funding for the Afghanistan police to control the activity. As a matter of fact, the enforcement detail had plenty of money. But a certain individual issued specific instructions to allow the crop to be grown and gathered without interference. That man was a government official by the name of Zaid Aburrani.
Wait a minute! Brannigan exclaimed. That name is familiar.
As well it should be, Leroux said. You know him from your outfit's very first operation in Afghanistan. You were supposed to pick up a defector, as I recall.
Yes, sir, Brannigan replied. But the situation deteriorated rapidly once we were on the ground. This was mainly caused by the fact that the defector had been compromised and eliminated.
A bad case of SNAFU, the general commented. At any rate, this Aburrani was the special envoy who joined you after the defeat of the two warlords. He was supposed to be acting as a go-between for the Coalition Forces and the native peoples of the area. It is now known he was profiting a great deal from the opium trade. This fact popped up unexpectedly when the information provided by the two Russian defectors was combined with known intelligence by our intrepid intraservice staff. Those clever boys put two and two together and came with a solid irrefutable conclusion, i. E., Aburrani is in cahoots not only with that Russian crime syndicate in Tajikistan but also with the Taliban. The profits from the coming harvest were to go to only one source: the terrorists.
What about Aburrani? Berringer asked. What's his status now?
Even as we speak, our friend Aburrani is in the hot seat, Leroux replied. He had been named in a warrant issued by our government to the Afghanistan authorities. However, because of certain hypersensitive aspects of the case, the Afghans don't want to participate in the apprehension of the gentleman in question. However, they will make no overt response to his arrest by any Coalition Forces. He grinned. That's somewhat of an understatement, as I'm sure you realize.
Is that the only action going to be taken in regard to this incident? Brannigan asked.
No way, Leroux said with firm assurance. I have been put in command of a two-pronged effort. The first thing we must do is pacify the hostile Pashtun tribesmen on the Pranistay Steppes.
Young Ensign Orlando Taylor sat up straighter with excitement. What's the other prong, sir?
Oh,
something right up the Brigands' alley, Leroux said. How does an illegal attack to wipe out the Russian town in the Kangal Mountains of Tajikistan sound to you?
Most interesting, Orlando said.
I'm sure it will be, Leroux said. He looked at Brannigan. Give me a quick oral SITREP, Lieutenant.
I have twenty-three SEALs under my command, Brannigan reported. We are at full strength, including horses, well supplied with all requisitions filled at the moment. Our present resupply situation is good enough that we can bring in any additional necessities quickly. I also can muster a hundred and thirty fighting men of the Yousafzai Tribe and eighty-five from the Janoon Tribe. That gives me a total of Two hundred and thirty men, young Taylor interjected quickly. The bad guys on the steppes have a total of three hundred and forty men belonging to four tribes.
Leroux actually gave the ensign a fond smile. Ah, yes! There is nothing better than the keen participation of an eager young subaltern.
Thank you, sir, Taylor said, pleased.
Alright! Leroux said. Brannigan, I want you to organize your entire force of natives and SEALs, then produce an OPLAN to be submitted to me through Commander Carey. Your mission will be as I already stated, i. E., pacify the bad Pashtuns out on the steppes. I might add that you are authorized to use extreme prejudice in accomplishing that goal.
Combat Alley (2007) Page 20
