by Ted Halstead
Khaksar nodded back. “It is true. Some of their soldiers here were not even born in 2001. They fight like men who have not forgotten.”
Abdul shrugged. “And so we come to the greatest difference. There were years of mass demonstrations against the Vietnam War. Thousands of Americans fled to Canada to avoid being drafted to fight in Vietnam. Afghanistan? Today we are rarely even discussed by the Americans in their news and their politics. All this is exactly what we feared in 2002, and why we decided we had to take radical action if we were to be free of the Americans.”
Abdul paused. “You all remember how the Americans left Iraq at the end of 2011?”
Everyone nodded.
“And how, when ISIS was nearly within sight of Baghdad, the Americans returned in 2014?”
Everyone nodded again.
“In 2019, the Americans invited us to Camp David. When they agreed in advance to exclude the puppet government in Kabul and to let us once again call our country the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, we knew these were actually surrender talks. Of course, the talks were canceled. But it wasn’t long before the American President came to Afghanistan, and we were invited again,” Abdul said with a smile.
The other men smiled too, but like Abdul’s, the smiles were tinged with sadness.
“We came so close. But just when it seemed victory was within our grasp, the Americans returned. And they’ve stayed ever since.”
Abdul shook his head. “So, we don’t just need to force the Americans to leave. We must also convince them never to come back.”
Now it was clear Abdul was struggling with his next words.
“Even though I know it is finally time, it is hard for me to speak of the plan we devised. The other men who worked on it with me are long dead. I have feared every day for more than two decades our enemies would learn of our plan, and end our last best hope. But now I see that no one man can reach such an important goal alone. So, here is what we did.”
The other men were all leaning forward, and were absolutely silent.
“Pakistan tested its first nuclear weapon in 1998. In Taliban-ruled Afghanistan, we watched, we were interested- but we knew there was no chance the Pakistani government would ever share even a single nuclear weapon with us. We also knew there was no chance we would ever be able to steal one. After all, the Pakistani government had built them as a counter to India’s nuclear weapons, which were seen as a mortal threat. What could be more closely guarded?”
Now the other four men set back in their chairs, clearly disappointed, but still silent.
Abdul grinned fiercely, and said, “You think you are going to hear the dreaming of an old man. We did much more than dream. We developed a plan to get someone working for us inside Pakistan’s nuclear program.”
Khaksar couldn’t help himself. “How?” he asked.
“You all know that throughout the fighting in Afghanistan since 2001, over a third of our soldiers came from Pakistan,” Abdul said.
The other four men nodded, their expressions showing they were all curious to see where this story would lead.
“We recruited female relatives of those fighters to marry Pakistani soldiers. Over several years, we were able to succeed with about three dozen.”
Khaksar asked, “Why soldiers? Did you expect to recruit them, or to learn anything useful from them about Pakistan’s nuclear program?”
Abdul shook his head. “No. But that was never our intention, and none of the soldiers were involved with Pakistan’s nuclear weapons. Instead, once the wives gave birth to a son, we planned for these new mothers to recruit their sons to help us. These sons would be bound to the Taliban cause from birth.”
At first, the other four men all stared at Abdul in disbelief.
After a moment, though, Khaksar nodded. “You thought that since the son often follows in the footsteps of the father, nobody would suspect it was their mothers urging them to join Pakistan’s military. To help us. And when a background check was run on the parents, they would find a soldier and a housewife. Their son would be easy to clear for any duty, including with nuclear weapons.”
Abdul was delighted with Khaksar’s statement. “Exactly! I’m pleased you understand our thinking. Yes, the plan required many years to show results. But, here we are well over two decades later, finally ready to reap its rewards.”
Khaksar next asked the most obvious question.
“How many of their sons finally succeeded in joining Pakistan’s nuclear program on our behalf?”
Abdul answered quietly, “One.”
Khaksar shook his head. “What happened to all the others?”
Abdul shrugged. “Some of the wives died. Others had no sons. Many had sons that had no interest in becoming soldiers. As you know, Pakistan has never had a draft, so the sons had to be willing to volunteer. Several other sons became soldiers, but so far have had no assignment anywhere near Pakistan’s nuclear program.”
Now Abdul grimaced with distaste. “Of course, none of the wives dared tell their Pakistani soldier husbands about our plans. However, two of the wives told me they had changed their minds about helping us, and I had to eliminate them. The man who helped me do it turned out to be disloyal, so he had to be dealt with as well.”
All of the other men nodded. There was only one way to deal with betrayal.
Abdul continued, “Our great good fortune is that one son became not just a soldier, but as a university graduate, became an officer. Not just an officer, but one of the small number trained to work directly with nuclear weapons. He has been able to learn of the transport schedule for a shipment of nuclear weapons from Pakistan’s production facility at the National Defense Complex in the Kala Chitta Dahr mountain range west of Islamabad.”
Abdul paused and looked at the others solemnly. “I plan to capture eight of these weapons. I am also going to launch attacks as distractions for the American ‘special forces’ that will be sent to get them back. You will have many questions about the timing and details of these attacks. For now, there is just one question, which you must answer before the Americans have one of their drones end our conversation. Will you give me the men and weapons I need?”
Khaksar glanced at the other three men and could see from their expressions that they thought as he did.
“Yes. Yes, we will. And before the attack, this group will meet again to discuss how you will capture these eight weapons, and what we will do with them.”
Abdul nodded. “Agreed. We must do all we can to kill only the Americans and their Afghan servants, or our countrymen will be right to turn against us, and make all our work and sacrifice over more than twenty years pointless.”
Chapter Two
Peshawar, Pakistan
Ibrahim Munawar looked around the room nervously. The four men sitting on the other side of the table were all looking at Ibrahim and his laptop with frank curiosity. Like the man who had invited Ibrahim and was seated next to him, Mullah Abdul Zahed, everyone else in the room sported a full beard and was at least double Ibrahim’s age.
Ibrahim was clean-shaven and looked like the recent university graduate he was. He was so pale several of the other men in the room had the same unspoken thought—one of the British colonizers might have figured among his ancestors two or three generations back. Brown hair that was already thinning and gold-colored, wire-frame glasses helped contribute to that impression.
Abdul could see how nervous Ibrahim was but could think of nothing he could do to help. Abdul knew that Khaksar Wasiq and the other men who had approved his request for men and weapons could still change their minds if they didn’t like what Ibrahim had to say, and so felt a bit nervous himself.
Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Here in one of Pakistan’s largest cities, they might be safe from American drone strikes. Arrest or worse by one of Pakistan’s many law enforcement or intelligence agencies, though, was always a risk.
Abdul had a far-away look in his eyes as he began to spea
k.
“I have had a dream for many years. It has one of the missiles you have all seen the Pakistanis roll down the streets in their military parades. In my dream, the missile is flying through the air towards an American airbase, still carrying its original Pakistani markings. I remember thinking to myself, why take the time to repaint the missile, when the Americans would never see it?”
There were a few uneasy chuckles, but it was clear Abdul’s audience was mostly confused.
Abdul smiled and now looked directly at his audience. “There are always a few steps involved in translating a dream into reality. There will be no missile falling on a base from above. But make no mistake. The Americans will taste the nuclear fire that so far they have only brought to others.”
Abdul gestured towards Ibrahim, and said, “Ibrahim is the one we have to thank for telling us when and where nuclear weapons will soon be transported, and vulnerable to capture. He has also developed a plan to carry out the attack. He will now explain its details.”
Ibrahim lifted the laptop’s lid, revealing a screen displaying a large truck holding four missiles.
“This is the Nasr launch system. It has two main components. The first is a transporter erector launcher or TEL for short. That is the vehicle that transports and launches the missiles. The second is the missiles. You can see that there are four.”
Ibrahim tapped the image on the screen.
“The most important thing to remember is that this TEL, and the one I’ll show you next, cannot be damaged in the attack. For reasons I’ll explain in a minute, we have to move these TELs away from the attack site, and even a single blown tire would make that impossible.”
Ibrahim paused and looked at the four men on the other side of the table. They were paying close attention, but their expressions so far revealed nothing.
“The destructive power of each Nasr missile is relatively low, equal to a little under one kiloton of TNT. By comparison, the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima equaled about fifteen kilotons. Nasr is a system designed for tactical use against invading Indian forces, which means they would detonate within Pakistan. Obviously, for that purpose, the Pakistani military doesn’t want a city-destroying missile.”
Khaksar and the other men nodded. Then, Khaksar asked, “What is the missile’s range?”
Ibrahim shook his head and answered, “It doesn’t matter, because we won’t be firing the missiles.”
Seeing the surprise and confusion on the faces of Khaksar and the others, Abdul could see they hadn’t understood his earlier comment and interrupted. “This operation is complex and will need some time to explain. Once Ibrahim is done, that will be the best time to ask questions.”
Ibrahim looked at Abdul gratefully. “There are several problems with trying to use the Nasr as designed by the Pakistani military. First, the TEL’s control console won’t allow launch without a code issued by Pakistani military headquarters. Second, even if we could somehow obtain a code, no target we want to hit is anywhere within its sixty-kilometer range. Finally, the TEL is huge and slow. We’d have no chance of hiding it long enough to aim and fire a missile at a target before more Pakistani forces arrived and either destroyed or recaptured it. Before I explain what we’re going to do with it, let me show you the other weapon we plan to seize in our attack.”
Ibrahim touched a few keys on the laptop and then turned it back to face the other men. It now had another TEL on the screen with four missiles, which was even larger than the first.
“This is the Babur cruise missile system. The Babur’s warhead is much more powerful, and at ten kilotons is capable of destroying a small to medium-sized city. It has a longer range than the Nasr system, but the need for a code we don’t have and can’t get, make it impossible to use as-is. Plus, it’s even bigger and more impossible to hide for any length of time.”
Ibrahim could see that the men on the other side of the table were becoming impatient, and didn’t blame them. It was time to explain the plan.
“Once we seize both TELs, we’ll move them a short distance away to the equipment we’ll have set up at a warehouse we’ve already rented that’s big enough to fit both TELs inside. That equipment will let me remove the missiles from the TELs, and then take the warheads out of each missile. We will then put each of the eight warheads in a separate vehicle, which we will drive in eight separate directions.”
Ibrahim paused, and pressed a few more keys on the laptop to bring up another image, this time of a large truck towing a trailer covered with antennas.
“We stole this R-330ZH electronic jammer from the Pakistani military a few days ago, and one of our men knows how to use it. Once it’s turned on, nobody in convoy with the two TELs will be able to call for help. That will give us some time before more Pakistani military forces arrive, but not much. At best, when the convoy fails to arrive on schedule at their planned destination, the alarm will go out. However, they may be scheduled to check-in at regular intervals. Someone may try to reach them en route after we start jamming. So, we’ll have to hurry to remove the warheads and get them out of the warehouse as soon as possible.”
Next, Ibrahim pressed keys that brought up an image of eight vehicles. Four of them were vans of different models and colors, and the other four were medium-sized trucks that had nothing in common except that their cargo beds were covered in cloth. All of the vehicles had the logos of various businesses on their sides, ranging from a plumbing contractor to a fertilizer supplier.
“These vehicles are already in place at the warehouse. The vans will transport the Nasr tactical nuclear warheads. The trucks will move the larger Babur cruise missile warheads. There are several small to medium-sized cities less than a thirty-minute drive north, south, and east of the warehouse. All of the vehicles will separate as quickly as possible, and attempt to reach the hiding places we have prepared. These range from an auto repair shop for one van to another, much smaller warehouse for one of the trucks.”
Khaksar frowned and shook his head. “Will the Pakistani Army give us the time we need to do all this? We will certainly lose men attacking the convoy. I doubt we’ll have enough left to take on the kind of force that is surely ready, waiting, and trained to respond to a threat to their nuclear weapons.”
Ibrahim nodded. “You’re right that we may not have enough time to escape with all eight warheads. However, removing the warheads may take less time than you think. Both the Nasr and Babur missiles were designed to allow the use of either nuclear or conventional warheads. That means they were both designed to allow swapping out warheads easily and quickly. It also means the warheads are even easier to remove, and not replace.”
Ibrahim paused, and pointed at himself. “I used to be one of the technicians who placed the warheads in these missiles, so I know exactly how to remove them. I have already trained many of our men in how to carry out this task. We will work on two missiles at a time. As soon as we remove a warhead, it will be in a vehicle and on its way.”
Abdul smiled, and interrupted. “Ibrahim, though, remains the only person who has already successfully worked on these missiles. But that is not the only reason that keeping him alive during this mission is a high priority.”
Ibrahim shrugged. “I will not argue with the proposition that keeping me alive is important. In particular, because while warhead removal is fairly straightforward, creating a functioning nuclear weapon with these warheads is not. I have sketched out possible weapon designs using both the Nasr and Babur warheads and given them to Abdul. However, in spite of my best efforts, I’m not sure whether our men are capable of turning these designs into working weapons.”
Khaksar and the other three men looked at each other with alarm. “Then, wouldn’t it be better to leave you out of this mission until we have the warheads? If you’ve trained others in how to remove them, do you need to be there?”
Ibrahim nodded. “Yes. There is a danger I haven’t yet mentioned. As I said, the nuclear warheads cannot detonate without a code. H
owever, each warhead contains a core with nuclear material surrounded by conventional explosives. A mistake in removing the warheads could result in the detonation of those explosives. For the Nasr, the result would be to kill most of our men. There are enough explosives in the larger Babur to level the warehouse. So, I must oversee the warheads’ removal, at least at the beginning.”
Khaksar was still concerned but finally shrugged. “Agreed. If we don’t succeed in removing the warheads, you’ll have nothing to use to build a weapon.”
Ibrahim and Abdul both nodded.
Khaksar then asked, “So, if everything in this plan works, where will we use the weapons?”
Abdul frowned. “First, I’ll point out that it’s doubtful we’ll end up with eight working nuclear weapons. We don’t know how many warheads we’ll have time to remove. We don’t know how many will make it to their hiding places. We don’t know whether Ibrahim’s designs will work with both the Nasr and Babur warheads.”
Glancing at Ibrahim, Abdul quickly added, “No offense.”
Ibrahim laughed and said, “None taken. What you’re saying couldn’t be truer.”
Abdul continued, “So, I propose just two targets. If we’re lucky and end up with more than two working weapons, so much the better. But I think the destruction of the two targets I have in mind will be enough to make the Americans leave Afghanistan, and once they go, their only real reason for interfering in Pakistan will disappear.”
Khaksar nodded. “Agreed. And the targets?”
Abdul said, “If Ibrahim can create a weapon based on the Babur warhead, we should use it against Bagram Airfield. It has one of the largest concentrations of Americans in Afghanistan, and is critical to their interference in our affairs.”
Khaksar frowned. “All you say is true. Do you think we can destroy the airbase while avoiding the destruction of the nearby town of Bagram, and Parwan prison?”
