‘We are aware of the excesses of the Taliban, the hanging from the goal post of some errant citizen at half time during the soccer matches at Ghazi Stadium in Kabul. We well remember their stoning of women, the executions of criminals with bullets to the head, and the amputation of hands for stealing. There is believed to be more moderate elements, that purely want Sharia Law without the excesses.’
Oliver continued. ‘Their spiritual leader, Mullah Omar, definitely not a moderate, is believed to be in or around Quetta in Pakistan. The current Taliban leadership cannot be trusted to honour any agreement. As an organisation, it is fuelled by religious ideology, and any pragmatism, compromise or agreement will only be for as long as it takes for them to return to that ideology. The moderates will not survive for long.
To Archie Smyth, Oliver’s comments rang true. He knew that the Taliban could never be trusted. Could I have an ally for my plan? he thought.
‘Anyone within the Taliban hierarchy who talks of moderation,’ Oliver continued, ‘or entering into the political process in Afghanistan is effectively signing his death warrant. There are some moderates with known Taliban sympathies, although they are isolated from the leadership.
Mullah Abdul Salam Zaeef, the Afghan ambassador to Pakistan before the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan is regarded as a moderate. He spent some years in Guantanamo and is currently living in Kabul.
‘Wakil Ahmad Muttawakil, the Taliban Foreign Minister of Afghanistan from 1999 to 2001. He spent eighteen months in Bagram, although he is currently alienated from the leadership of the Taliban. He is also in Kabul.
‘Agha Jan Motasim, Finance Minister of Afghanistan during the Taliban leadership in Kabul. He was living in Karachi, Pakistan. However, since an assassination attempt in 2012, his whereabouts are unknown. There are more, but where they are and whether than can be trusted is unclear. The three I mentioned will certainly not wish to talk with us. At least, if they want to die in their beds.’
Instead of leaving the building, Fred had organised a delivery of pizzas, four pepperonis, and two black olive. Oliver continued while everyone ate. ‘We need to consider the Northern Alliance.’
‘The Northern Alliance does not exist today. It was formed in response to the Taliban when they took over Kabul in 1996. We need to understand the composition of this grouping and their relevance. The Taliban after taking Kabul, attempted to impose their hold on the remaining areas of the country. Only the North of the country remained free of their influence, although the Taliban had taken Herat, the principal city of the North West, and its four hundred thousand inhabitants in 1995. Ishmael Khan, the powerful Uzbek Warlord and governor of Herat Province, had fled to Iran before their arrival.
‘The Alliance was Tajik initially. The founding members, Burhanuddin Rabbani, President of Afghanistan before the Taliban takeover, and Ahmad Shah Massoud, Burhanuddin Rabbani’s Defence Minister, were assassinated at a later date.
‘Other ethnic groups joined later, notably Abdul Rashid Dostum, the previous Uzbek Warlord of Mazar and Mohammad Mohaqiq, a Hazara Shia leader. Within six months of its creation, Abdul Qadir, the Vice President of Afghanistan joined; he was assassinated in 2002, and Sayed Hussein Anwari, another Hazara Shia came in. After the removal of the Taliban, the Alliance quickly collapsed. The Alliance would probably reform if there were a common goal to pursue. We can use the Northern Alliance to control the Taliban in the South, if it can be persuaded to reform.’
‘As you can see,’ Oliver stated, ‘not all the names mentioned are still in contention.’
André frowned. Not in contention, sounds very much like a euphemism for assassinated, he thought.
Oliver wrapped up his presentation. ‘For the Game to succeed we need to bring on board the following groups and persons: Moderate Taliban, Abdul Rashid Dostum for the Uzbek, Mohammad Mohaqiq and possibly Sayed Hussein Anwari for the Hazara, a replacement candidate for Abdul Qadir in the East, and a suitable representative for the Tajiks.’
Fred took the opportunity to speak. ‘This is a mammoth undertaking, possibly larger than any undertaken by any one nation in history. It is world changing in scope; I, for one am glad to be here as a member of this team.
‘We need Steve and Andre back in the country. You are aware of what is required.’
André interrupted. ‘Assuming that you secure a significant majority of the mineral wealth, how do you intend to get it out of the country? Afghanistan is landlocked.’
‘What about those mines already in place?’ he continued, ‘and the Chinese in Logar province, and up near the Amu Darya River? They have exploration rights from the Afghani government.’
‘André,’ he replied, ‘there are a myriad of issues to be addressed. You are correct in your observations. In the meantime, both you and Steve take time off, relax, and don’t think about work, Afghanistan, or the Game.’
Fred spoke directly to Steve. ‘We spoke about likely candidates who would be responsive to our plans for the country. I will give you an update on Latif later. We are still not clear as to why Laterme was killed and by whom. It certainly would help if we had some clarity on this, but it may have lost some of its importance. We are moving forward, and whereas, we have barely scratched the surface of our analysis, and not even touched on the planning and the execution, I remain confident this will go to fruition.
‘Any sign of trouble and we will pull you out. That includes André and Abdul.’
‘We are glad to be involved.’ Steve and André almost answered in unison. They were both a little nervous and apprehensive, but they were going to continue. This was life in the fast lane. This was adrenaline charged. This, they sensed, was history in the making. Fred shook their hands, wished them well, and they left.
Steve was off home to Rock Hill, South Carolina. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming. He thought he would leave it that way; they were in for a big surprise. He had always liked fishing, and this time he was going to spend time down on the Catawba River and catch some bass. He had to admit he wasn’t much of a fisherman, but it was relaxing. It may help him to stop missing Megan. He was hopeful it would prove to be therapeutic.
André was back to Brussels. The next day, he was planning to take the family skiing in Chamonix-Mont-Blanc. Nestled in the lee of the highest mountain in the Alps, it was a family favourite. André was determined to conquer the off-piste ski run of the Vallée Blanche. It was November, and the snow appeared to be ideal for skiing.
Chapter 6
It was a brief interlude, only ten days, but Steve enjoyed the break, and his parents and sister were delighted to see him. He spent some time with a few friends and worked on his fishing technique. It proved to be only marginally better, and the bass that he was hoping to catch were not obliging. He would not return to Afghanistan with a favourite fishing story of the one that got away.
André’s time was equally well-spent, at least the first few days. The snow was firm, the sky clear and bright, and he was feeling over confident as he tackled the new slope that had been tempting him. The first half of the run went fine, but the snow started to become patchy as he descended. It was only a small rock protruding through the snow, he hadn’t seen it, but he caught it with the edge of his right ski, and he went tumbling down the slope for another fifty metres. It was his right leg, and it hurt like hell.
The ignominy of being taken down to the first aid station on a stretcher was embarrassing.
However, a couple of nights in the hospital and he was back at the ski resort, this time not on a slope, but propping up the bar as he watched his wife and his children demonstrate their skiing prowess, and he had to admit, they were better than him. He was lucky; it proved to be no more than a severe ankle sprain and a torn calf muscle.
Steve reluctantly returned to Afghanistan. He flew Emirates into Dubai and then Ariana to Kabul. André grabbed a lift with a NATO plane out of Frankfurt. He was hobbling, and it was still sore, but he was able to walk. He wasn’t complaining, ten day
s with the family was worth the pain.
Upon his return to Kabul, Steve phoned Fred. ‘How is the think tank going?’
‘Good to hear you are back in Kabul. We have a heavy agenda for the three of you. I will update in due course. We took a four-day break – some of us were just worn out, some needed to do more research. I still reckon we have another week, at least, and then we need to focus on the presentation at the White House. I’ve never met the president before.’ Fred was increasingly affable, and Steve had to admit he liked the man.
There was one advantage that Steve could see being back in Kabul. It was November, and he realised that he was going to spend another Christmas in Afghanistan. The Xmas lights down the main street would be conspicuous by their absence, and he certainly wouldn’t be hearing incessant renditions of Jingle Bells in every shop. At least that was a plus in Afghanistan’s favour.
Abdul and Steve met up for coffee within a few days of Steve’s return back into Kabul. André was in Kunduz, in the north of the country.
‘I don’t understand the logic. Both the USA and NATO are pulling out their militaries, and those in the central government seem to not realise the inevitability.’ It was clear that Abdul was agitated in his conversation.
‘Elaborate on your concerns.’
‘If the foreign militaries pull out, it is clear as to what is going to happen. The Taliban will reassert their influence with a corresponding increase in violence. They could even take Kabul again. It would not be difficult for them to get enough fighters from over the border in Pakistan or from the Middle East, and they would certainly be able to secure the funding for the weapons that they would need.
‘And what do we have to defend ourselves? We have the Afghan Army. Of course, the West will state that they are fully trained and equipped and able to defend their country. Both you and I know this is errant nonsense.
‘All we need is for the Pakistani government to become involved again and the country will go back to the dark ages. We have started to show some real progress, and whereas it is far from perfect, it is more preferable than the cruelty of the Russians, or the primitiveness of the Taliban.’
‘Abdul, I always find the relationship between Pakistan and Afghanistan incongruous. At least two million Afghanis are living as refugees in Pakistan. I would have thought the Afghan people would be thankful they were allowed to move there during the times of the Russians and the Taliban.’
‘Steve, you are correct. There are a vast number of Afghanis across the border in Pakistan, but they are not there as equals. They are, in the majority third class citizens, relegated to depressing and squalid camps. The majority are not allowed to work, and their conditions are miserable. The Pakistanis are not doing us a favour. They were just unable to stop the mass migration of desperate people away from a war zone. They would gladly send them back at the first opportunity.
‘When the Taliban were coming to take Kabul in 1996, it was the Pakistani military that provided air support; we will not forget or forgive.’ The situation with Pakistan and Afghanistan was complex. Steve realised that it was best not to ask any more questions on what was a sensitive subject.
‘How was your trip to New York? André was out of the country at the same time. I deduced that both your departures were related.’ Abdul changed the subject.
‘I cannot elaborate yet, but hopefully, I will be able to do so shortly. I’m not sure that is a satisfactory answer. Unfortunately, it’s the best I can give at this time.’
‘That’s fine for now.’ Abdul commented. He was interested, but it could wait.
***
Some weeks passed. Steve took the opportunity to visit some other parts of the country. It was business-related, his company was heavily involved in setting up communication networks around the country, and there was still a valuable role for him to play. Fred Vandenberg, the company CEO, had made it clear, his secondary more covert position would, at all times, take preference. Steve had known that not only was the company installing communication networks throughout the country, they were installing voice and keyword recognition software. Any communication of interest, then the recording equipment and location tracing would activate.
It was early December when Fred phone Steve. ‘We have completed security checks on Latif, your manager down in Kandahar. He is believed to be clean. It would be appreciated if you can sound him out.
‘It would probably be best to casually mention that you are interested in understanding the Taliban. I’ll leave it up to you. You have a better understanding of the country and the culture than I do. Just be careful.’
Kandahar was calm when Steve arrived on the following Monday. The death of the British engineer had been forgotten, and as long as Steve followed Latif’s security advice, it was possible to move around the city without too many issues during the day.
It was the only place in the country where a warm welcome was not always guaranteed. There was always the sideways glance, the frown of a tribesman on the side of the road. Never openly hostile, but he could sense there were those who did not like him or what he represented. Certainly, some of them wanted him dead.
In Kabul, it was still possible to move around with minimal security, but in Kandahar, security was demanded and required. How effective the security would be in a genuine emergency was hard to ascertain. He always thought that, if some locals with guns were coming from one direction, the guards supplied would be running the other way, at speeds that would not look out of place at the Olympics. They were always so lowly paid, badly treated, and underfed, and he couldn’t see why they should risk their life for a healthy, well-paid foreigner. Latif had employed the guards in Kandahar; they were certainly related to him, or at least from his village.
‘Tell me about the Taliban,’ he enquired of Latif in a casual manner that night at the guest house.
Latif expressed some concern. ‘Why do you want to know, Mr Steve?’ he replied. ‘Just interested. I have been in the country some time. I cannot believe they are all as bad as portrayed in the Western media. Surely, some must be moderate and agreeable.’
‘Some purely want to pursue Sharia. Some even see the need to embrace modern ideas. The current leadership may make the pretence of moderation, the possibility of power sharing, but it is only that - pretence. To the fundamentalist, there is only their belief. To the Taliban, a moderate is a traitor, and a traitor is to be killed.’
‘What about your family?’ Steve wanted to change the subject; too much interest was not advisable. Latif had been given the all-clear from the CIA, but they could be wrong.
‘I have two sons, both are very bright. I would like to give them the benefit of a good education, but unfortunately, it is beyond my means.’
‘I know that the company is considering helping persons such as you in these circumstances. It is a plan in its infancy, but I will keep you informed if it offers some possibility.’
‘I would be forever thankful for your assistance,’ Latif said.
Steve already knew that those who had proven themselves of great value to the U.S. military had, under exceptional circumstances been given visas to settle in the USA. He could see no reason why that could not be the same for Latif, if his loyalty and assistance proved worthy.
It was to be two days later when Steve and André met up in Kabul.
‘Unless the Pakistan government’s interference in Afghanistan is neutralised, then the Game is seriously flawed,’ Andre said. ‘They have supported the Taliban in the past. They either desist in interfering as a result of diplomatic or financial pressure from the USA, or we will need to stop them militarily. I realise these are drastic measures, but that may be needed.’
***
Steve had been pleased not to have seen the Xmas decorations down the main street, or carol singers knocking at the door, but it was the week of Christmas, and he felt lonely. Maybe it was the Christmas card from Megan. It had been some months since they had last emailed each other,
and whereas he had convinced himself that it was for the best, that he was a loner, a free-agent able to play the field, the card had brought back the reality. He loved her, and he wanted to be with her. He drowned his sorrows in a bottle of whisky and woke up the next day with a thumping headache.
‘I’m going back to the States for Christmas.’ Abdul, excited of a break out of the country, was on the phone. To Steve it was ironic. Here was Abdul, a Muslim going to the USA for the Christmas holidays, while he was spending the holiday season in a Muslim country.
André was out for a week; he was very adept at hitching a ride on the numerous military transporters flying between Afghanistan and Europe. He would at least see a wet and rainy Xmas in Brussels. He would not complain as he would be secure in the company of his family.
The offices of Transcontinental would be open as usual, during the Christmas period, but Steve had no intention of going into work. There were still some expatriates in town, and there was alcohol and food, and he intended to make the best of a difficult time. He was not a drinker normally, but there would be a few late nights, a few headaches the next day, and at least for Christmas day, there was a local restaurant that was able to serve up a decent meal of chicken and roast potato. He vowed never to spend another Xmas away from home, away from family.
André returned three days into the New Year refreshed and at peace with the World, peace being a relative term in Kabul. The Taliban had not embraced the spirit of Christmas, and their acts of insurgency continued unabated around the country.
The U.S. and NATO continued their troop reductions, accompanied by the inevitable rhetoric that the Afghan military would take their place, and that they were suitably equipped and trained for the task. No one believed it. At least, not in Afghanistan.
It was illogical, but the Afghan government were the primary drivers for the troop reductions. The USA would only comply if it suited them; they purposely ignored the full directive, and intended to maintain fifteen thousand troops in three bases in the South of the country, close into Kabul. Elsewhere in the country, the NATO forces had almost completed their withdrawal, and all bases whether American or NATO, were being handed over to the Afghan army. The Canadians had pulled out of Kabul, and Jalalabad was slated for withdrawal.
Prelude To War: World War 3 (Steve Case Thriller Book 1) Page 6
