by Ilsa J. Bick
Never rains but it pours. “This is Coyote Zero-Seven.” He looked down the mountain and back across the fields they’d crossed earlier in the day. Their convoy of four Humvees—one of which had been up-armored while two more were fitted with turret-mounted .50s—seemed almost like tiny Lego toys. He spotted a tiny ant-sized person he thought was Stanton standing by the driver’s side of their up-armored coffin. “What’s up? Over.”
“Eye on the clock, sir, wondering if you had a sit-rep. Over.”
Sit-rep was polite radio-speak, just in case anyone was listening in. Jack knew what Stanton was really asking, When the fuck are we getting out of here? “We might be a little delayed here, over.”
A short silence. “Shall I alert our betters back at the KOP? Over.”
Should he tell HQ of the delay? No, with nothing to go on, he wouldn’t be able to give anyone an ETA. Better to wait until he had more information. “You can relay that I’m checking out a situation. When I’ve got more intel, I’ll be in touch. Over.”
“A situation in the village, sir? Over.”
“Negative. A little west of here. About forty-five minutes, give or take. Over.” There, now he’d told Stanton, just not in so many words, that leaving on time wasn’t in the cards.
“Yeah? Well, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, sir. Over.”
What the fuck, indeed. “Afraid so, over.”
“Sir, you stay active or PLB, me and Douglas could vector. Probably three-zero. Over.”
Jack thought about that. Stanton was asking if he needed backup, and suggesting he and Douglas make use of either Jack’s GPS from his radio or his personal locator beacon to meet up in thirty minutes, more or less. It was a good idea. Kate had suggested there be more of their people than Gholam’s. Pulling Stanton and Douglas, though, meant fewer men at the Humvees. He could send down two or three more people from his contingent at the village. Make the excuse that the guys guarding the convoy needed some assistance. He didn’t have to go into specifics. Would Gholam offer to send some of his people down, too? If he did, would Gholam’s people realize two men who should be waiting with the vehicles weren’t? Maybe yes, maybe no. Should he pull all his people, get them started down now? That might be the smartest, safest thing to do. Worst-case scenario, they’d be in a more fortified position with the ability to get the hell out of Dodge.
Whoa, paranoid much? But something had spooked Kate. What Moltke said about plans was also true.
He raised the radio to his mouth. “Listen, Tango Two-Charlie, this is what I want you to do.”
Thinking, Christ, he hoped Moltke was wrong.
“Captain!” Gholam was using a large piece of naan to help himself to a platter of extremely large, brown sausages cut in chunks and arranged over stewed tomatoes and onions. Scooping up a hunk, Gholam brought the drippy meat and bread roll to his mouth, shoveled in half, and chewed. “Kazy.” The major sighed and rolled his eyes. “Delicious. I have not had this in years.”
“It smells like home.” From his place behind Gholam, Amir said something to Roomal’s cousins—Jack didn’t think it was Dari or Pashto—and the two men, who were already shoveling in great handfuls of the meat and rice dish Reyna had brought, laughed. The other men were also digging into platters of salad and delicate lamb dumplings swimming in a spiced yogurt sauce.
“How’s that?” He was watching Stone who was watching Pederson, who was inspecting a basin of slender green bamya with the fastidiousness of a spinster aunt at a garden tea. Dodging his gaze away before Stone could make him laugh, Jack asked the lieutenant, “That it’s like home?”
“Oh.” Amir gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Just that my family is from there.”
Interesting. He thought Gholam’s people were locals. “Where?”
Gholam cut in. “Shuro-obod. I asked my sister, ‘Why do you want a dirt-poor pistachio farmer?’ You know what she said?” When Jack shook his head, Gholam deadpanned. “She said she liked nuts.”
“Ah.” As Amir flushed and Gholam spluttered with laughter at his own joke, Jack dragged up the requisite grin. Again, interesting. Shuro-obod was a gritty, fairly nasty little border town way up north and Gholam was right. Tajikistan had been the poorest country in the Soviet bloc and independence hadn’t made it any richer. “Well, food looks great,” he lied. He was no stranger to Afghan cuisine and, in general, liked most local cuisine, but the stuff Gholam was cramming into his maw looked disgusting. Whatever crap meat was in those casings wasn’t uniform but a mottled shit-brown with chunky white bits which might be onion, although the look wasn’t quite right. Jesus, what he wouldn’t give for a decent plate of plain old Jimmy Dean. “What is kazy?”
“Horse. A Tajik delicacy.” Rivulets of oily tomato sauce trickled from the corners of Gholam’s mouth. He looked like a vampire after a tasty snack. “You have never had horse?”
“Not knowingly.” Tajik? Interesting. He was careful not to let his eyes drift to Roomal’s two cousins. Three guys from Tajikistan in one room in one isolated mountain village. What were the odds? “What’s it taste like? Chicken?”
If Gholam got the joke, he didn’t show it. “No, beef. A little gamey but like very tender steak. Well, unless the animal was worked to death before slaughter.”
“I see. Well, look, I’m sorry, but Kate has a situation I have to assess.”
“Assess?” Pederson had a slim, green piece of okra tweezed between two fingers. “I already did.”
“I hear you. I understand you think she’s jumping chain of command.”
“Because she is.”
He held his hand up like a traffic cop. “We’re not going to discuss this right now. I do want you along, though. If things are as bad as Kate says, I’ll need your expertise.”
“Which I’ve already given, Captain. That child would be lucky to survive transport.”
Kate was right. The guy was a tight-assed needle-dick. “This really isn’t up for discussion, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” Although, from the pouty look on the doctor’s face, Jack thought the guy really wanted to say something like, Oh. Joy. Folding okra into his mouth, Pederson gave the vegetable a morose chew. “Your call, sir.”
“Yes, it is,” he said, suppressing a shudder. God, he hated okra. Stuff had the consistency of snot. He thought about cluing Pederson in on the fact that he was chowing down on women’s fingers, which was what bamya meant, then decided he didn’t need the headache of explaining to Pederson’s commander how it was the doctor choked to death. Instead, he turned to Roomal. “I am sorry, but we need to start back now. Orders. Stone, I need you to round up the guys and head back down to the Humvees. Lowry,” he said to a freckled blond with a bull-neck, “you’re with me. You, too, Kimball.” As his radio man got to his feet, Jack turned to his sergeant. “Stone, the rest of you head back for the convoy.”
“Captain?” Visibly displeased, Stone’s meaning was clear. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you my job is to keep you from getting your fool head blown off.
“You have your orders. Everyone off, no exceptions. Aasif, make my apologies.”
As Aasif translated, Gholam piped up. “I will go as well.”
Hell. He knew it. “Unnecessary. This is a medical issue.”
“No.” With great deliberateness, Gholam shook out a piece of linen and began wiping his fingers. “This is my district. These are my people. I am going, Captain. It is my right.”
“Of course.” He couldn’t really argue. “I think it’ll be more efficient for your men to accompany Sergeant Stone.”
“While you allow yourself a radio man and another soldier? No.” Gholam flicked a forefinger at a policeman standing next to Amir Ali. “Officer Bashir will accompany me.”
As Bashir gave a little bow, Amir cleared his throat. “I would be honored to do so as well, Uncle...erhm…Major.”
“Mmmm. You’re entitled to take command in my absence.” Gholam favored his nephew with a shrewd look. “You don’t wish to
do so?”
“With all due respect, Major, the men are well trained. They don’t require a babysitter.”
“Except me,” Stone muttered, but only loudly enough for Jack to hear.
“Very well, then.” Refolding his soiled linen, Gholam got to his feet. “Lead on, Captain, and let us see what your medic thinks is of such importance.”
Chapter 2
Tompkins’s voice floated up. “Where are they?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes from the cut-off,” Kate said, not taking her eye from her rifle’s scope. The sinuous path leading up from the village was wide enough for two abreast, but Jack and the others were single file and moving fast. Mountain passes were always dangerous. If bullets flew, there was nowhere to hide. Perhaps the only thing worse was being caught in a draw or wash. Jack once said that was why, in the Korengal, mountain outposts could be real deathtraps. All it took was one guy to make it over the top, or several to rain down bullets in a high, arcing plunging fire, and then you were toast.
“Who’d the captain bring?” asked Tompkins.
“Kimball, Lowry. Our favorite needle-dick.”
“Jesus, kill me now. Why do I think this falls under the rubric of no good deed goes unpunished?”
“Well, it’s not as if there’s nothing for him to do. Speaking of, how do our guests look?”
“Like they’ve got the worst hangovers of their lives. That one guy is still out.”
“Then, we’re lucky Pederson’s along for the ride.”
“I don’t think he’ll see it that way, especially if he can’t do anything.”
“But I’ll bet he presses Jack to call for a medevac.” Pederson would see the guard as someone who could be saved, as opposed to Palwasha’s baby girl, who’d be lucky to live out the day. Another advantage with a medevac: no Black Hawk flew alone. An Apache attack chopper always came along for the ride to protect both the medevac team and their people on the ground.
“A medevac will put us behind schedule.” Tompkins checked his watch. “Sunset prayers are in an hour.”
“Can’t be helped. By the way, Gholam and two of his guys are coming up, too.”
“You could’ve predicted that. This is Gholam’s gig.”
Yes, but despite what she’d told Jack, she wished like hell Jawad and Fatimah and Malik and the others had been able to be more specific about just which police were involved with the heroin and the traffic in bacha bazi, dancing boys. They’d claimed they would know the wrong police on sight. A lot of good that did them now, with the kids and Bibi long gone.
“What about the rest of our guys?” Tompkins asked.
“Already halfway to the Humvees.” She’d tracked their progress from the village. What worried her was the trek across those open fields to the convoy. With no natural cover, they were sitting ducks. “I’m going to lose them in a few minutes, though. There’s mountain in the way.”
“Don’t worry. We’re too far away to do any good, anyway. Stanton will have eyes on Stone and a straight shot.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear.” Her shoulders killed from staring through her scope. Wincing, she bent her head left then right to work out the kinks. “I would kill for a massage.”
Tompkins made a face as her neck bones crackled and popped. “Your neck sounds like a bowl of Rice Krispies. Take a break, Kate. You melting into a grease spot and ending up a cripple isn’t going to make the captain get here any faster.” There came the clap and scrape of boots on gritty rock and then Tompkins butted her right hip. “Climb on down and get in the shade. You’re starting to look like a piece of old rawhide.” Tompkins aimed a thumb over a shoulder. “Besides, Six could use the company.”
At the sound of his name, the sable shepherd, sprawled in a splotch of shade thrown by a boulder, grinned and thumped his tail.
Despite her worry, Kate had to smile. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Scooting off the boulder, she dropped to a knee by the dog, who’d already turned onto his back with a hopeful expression. “You goof.” She obliged by scrubbing the dog’s belly in just the right scritchy spot so his right rear leg went into spasms. “You like that, you like that, don’t you, big boy?”
“Jeez, you guys.” Tompkins’s mouth kicked into a grin. “Get a room.”
“You’re just jealous. So, tell me about when you went with Bibi through the complex. You found an exit?”
“Yeah, although Jawad said there are a couple. The one he took opens onto this plateau and then this trail that cuts west and then south.”
“Toward our convoy.” That was a lucky break. Stanton and the others knew Bibi.
“Yup. Me and Six went down a ways just to check it out. You’re not really out in the open very much, other than from above. Which sort of sucks, but better than no cover. There’s also this road on the same plateau. That must be how they’re moving product.”
“That would make sense.” Yet how would vehicles escape a drone’s notice? Who would know when a drone was scheduled to make a flyover? Would the police? Or only the Afghan military? Neither? “You get a chance to see the rest of the complex?”
“Only enough to know there’s a lot more. We’re talking big rooms and a ton of tunnels.”
She frowned. “How’d the villagers do that? These are people who ride donkeys and use trench latrines.”
“My guess is the Russians. We get our people in here, there’s no telling what they find.”
She could imagine. Old Soviet-era weapons depots, maybe even chemical weapons. The Soviets were stuck in Afghanistan for a decade. “Sounds like people are going to be busy here either way.”
“Yeah, but not us. By this time tomorrow, we won’t be here. Except, Kate, all of a sudden, I don’t want to go home and sleep on a decent bed or eat my mom’s meat loaf or drive around without worrying about incoming. Everything and everyone I care about, you, my dog...”
“Bibi.” At the sharp look Tompkins threw, she said, “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“No, it’s not. She’s really...I mean, talk about timing. I make it all the way through my tour, I’m within spitting distance of the door, and then, bam! I meet Bibi, and I’m thinking, this happens now, now? I’m not ready to pick out bath towels or anything, but I wouldn’t mind some time and space to get to know her better.”
“You still can.”
“How?” Tompkins gave a bleak laugh. “We leave tomorrow and I was planning on getting out in a couple months.”
“Was? You’re thinking of reupping?”
“Yeah, and that’s crazy. The chances I get reassigned to Afghanistan are slim to none, and slim just left the building. Leaving me with what?” Tompkins hooked a hand in the neck of his Kevlar vest. “Nothing. It’s not like I can take her phone number or something. I mean, there’s Skype and all, I guess, but jeez.” Tompkins shook his head. “This is just so nuts.”
No, you just really like her. “Look, on our way back to Kessel, just tell her you like her and want to stay in touch and then go from there. The worst that can happen is she says no.”
“Great.” Tompkins made a horsey sound. “Like I want to get blown off.”
“You can’t have it both ways, but you’ll never know if you don’t say something. Tompkins, she likes you. She’s only been flirting with you the entire day.”
“And did I not say I don’t know how to flirt?” But he was smiling at the memory. “She really is kind of cool.”
An understatement. Kate liked her, a lot. All of a sudden, a fantasy blossomed in her mind: Christmas ham and all the trimmings at her folks’ place, with Jack...and Tompkins and Bibi. And Six, of course, and maybe the entire unit. You nut. She dug her fingers into the soft fur behind Six’s ears. Bibi’s Muslim. Ham was out. Maybe her mom would do a goose?
“You know what else really sucks?” Tompkins used his chin to point at Six. “They’ll assign him to a new handler, ship him back out. Even if I was staying in, Six and me working together’s not a sure thing. They r
otate the dogs around on purpose so they get used to working with different people in case, you know, I get my brains blown out or wounded or whatever. Either way, I got to say goodbye to him, too.”
Well, hell. Until this moment, it had not occurred to her she might never see Six again. Her eyes suddenly itched, and not from the heat. Sensing her distress, the shepherd lifted his snout to lick her fingers.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” She looked up to find Tompkins watching. “Do me a favor?”
She swallowed back a salty lump. “What?”
“Something happens to me, will you adopt Six? When he gets out? I plan to, but just in case something goes sideways.”
They’d had this conversation before. “You’re being morbid again.”
“No, just realistic.”
Jack had said the same not an hour again. “How about we do this one step at a time? And speaking of which, okay, you.” She gave the dog a final pat. “Break’s over. Up you go.” As Six made his feet and gave a whole-body shake, she stood and brushed dust from her rump. “They got to be at the turnoff by now.”
Tompkins peeked through his scope. “Just coming around the bend. What’s the plan here? As soon as we head for the cave, Gholam’s going to know something’s up. What’s to stop him from blasting us and saying it was the bad guys who did it?”
Nothing, which could be a problem. Gholam carried only a sidearm. Even if the major pulled down on them first, he could probably get off two shots before somebody blew his head off. Worst-case scenario, if the guys with Gholam, who had rifles, were in on the heroin scheme, that meant a close-quarters firefight, which tended to be over pretty fast and was, generally, pretty messy.
“We have one thing going for us,” she said. “Gholam doesn’t know we know. So, here’s what we’re going to do.”
He listened then wrinkled his nose. “What if he says no? What if he wants to know more before he commits?”
