Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office (22 page)

Kamal moved a few yards down the corridor when another soldier jumped from behind a crate hitting him with the butt of his AK-47, stunning him.
What the fuck?
Kamal thought, reaching up to find blood coming from just above his eye. “What’s your problem soldier? Don’t you recognize your own?” he said, glaring at the attacker. The guard hesitated for a moment but something must have alerted him, because he drew his weapon back again. Kamal used all his body weight to jam the weapon and soldier against the wall; he could feel his eye swelling up already, and he preferred not to expend any more energy than he had to.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Kamal growled at the guard. “Don
’t you realize that we’re under attack? And you’re wasting your energy on me?” He could feel the soldier relax, and calmly jabbed his elbow into the man’s face. The guard dropped his gun, stunned understanding creeping into his eyes. Kamal swung the AK-47 onto his own shoulder, and stuck his sidearm into the man’s ribs. Slipping in behind him, Kamal guided him down the corridor to the doorway faintly lit by the bulb that hung above it. He whispered, “Now, let’s find Faheem.”

“He
’ll kill you,” the guard muttered. “And the little traitor that he’s captured. You won’t leave here alive.”

Traitor? Kaleem?
Kamal used the butt of his sidearm to punish the side of the guard’s face, silencing him. He fired at the bulb, watching it shatter into thousands of pieces and the corridor descend into darkness. A small sliver of light showed him where the door was — where Kaleem was, he assumed, along with Faheem.

“
Faheem!” Kamal yelled down the corridor. “Surrender and I’ll spare you and your men.”

“
Spare us?” hollered Faheem laughing loudly at Kamal’s comment. “There is an entire FC team coming. It will be you that will need to be spared, Dawood!”

As he reached the doorframe, he stopped to prop up the guard that he had taken hostage and shoved him into the frame. The body drew Faheem
’s fire, falling backward and collapsing from the impact of the rounds. As the dust settled, Kamal slipped in the door, finding a dark corner for himself in the small room. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, creating a small pool of light on the ground, but he couldn’t see Faheem or Kaleem.

“Ayaz! Sheraz! Waqar!” Faheem hollered in the empty hall, trying to determine who had been struck by the rounds and if Dawood was still alive. “Nizam, go check the corridor!”

Kamal heard heavy footsteps echoing through the hall, as Nizam ran right past him to determine the situation outside. He heard the footsteps stop, sliding from one side to the other as Nizam explored the area outside the little room. Kamal held his position in the darkness waiting to see if Faheem would emerge from the shadows.

“Commander, all three in the corridor are down,” Nizam reported back, still standing in the doorway. “
I don’t see Dawood.”

“
Ay khair bachiya
,” Faheem called out. “Don’t you understand that you’re outnumbered? You won’t escape alive. It would be better if you just stepped out of your hiding place and surrendered to us.” Faheem pushed a chair out of the darkness, “I won’t kill him if you come out now!”

Kaleem!
Kamal couldn’t tell if the boy was still alive. He was slumped down in the chair, motionless, covered in blood and his head hung low to his chest. “Come out now!” Faheem yelled.

Kamal closed his eyes at the shout, tracking the voice
’s general direction and just listened. There was a small shuffle, and Kamal fired twice into the shadow, hearing one bullet hit a wall. But the second found its mark, causing Faheem yelp like a wounded dog. Kamal dropped flat on the ground and crawled quickly along the wall as Faheem and Nizam both opened fire in the direction of the first shots. The bullets ricocheted off the concrete floor or drove into the wall. Crouching behind what felt like a stack of cut boards, Kamal felt a burning sensation moving up his thigh. He reached down, finding the hole in his pants and warm blood coating his fingers.
Shit! I’m hit.
Caught in the crossfire, he shrugged it off, using his sniper skills to block out the radiating pain.

Faheem stepped out of the shadows and ducked behind Kaleem
’s chair, rotating it to provide cover as he moved. “Dawood! You stupid son of a bitch, you have no way out. We have the only exit covered! Make this easier on yourself.”

Kamal had been very lucky that Brigadier Imtiaz had not fully believed Faheem
’s intelligence report on them. The Brigadier has sought confirmation from Military Intelligence and the ISI, who had done their best to call him off the trail. They had told Imtiaz that the ISI had someone inside and any stupidity on his part would compromise the deep cover operation. The Brigadier could not be faulted. He saw a promotion and medal in his future.
How could he have known that his target was the deep cover ISI operative himself? Talk about bad luck.

Kamal knew that the Brigadier was en route to the warehouse along with reinforcements. He had to stave off the attack until they arrived and he could reveal his identity to him. He had gone to ground almost two weeks ago when a visitor passed a message through a trusted source. “You
’re blown,” was all that he was told. The three words that any deep cover operative fears more than anything else, especially in hostile territory.

Kamal heard sliding footsteps to his left. Realizing that Nizam was just steps away from discovering him, he slowly climbed to his feet and waited for another footstep. With uncanny precision, he landed his pistol firmly on Nizam
’s head, causing him to stumble backward. Nizam growled with anger at being taken by surprise and hit, flaying wildly, looking to grab his attacker. He was a big man with long arms, and with Kamal’s range of motion compromised by the bullet in his leg, Nizam managed to connect with his attacker. He grabbed hold of Kamal’s shirt and jerked him forward, landing a head-butt against his already closed and swollen eyelid.

Kamal stumbled backward, blood flowing freely from the cut above his eye again.
Where is Faheem?
He struggled to keep the other man in his periphery, but ended up paying dearly for his momentary distraction, as Nizam landed a kick to the bloody thigh, further hobbling him.
Is that…
he thought as he dove away from Nizam, dodging the flare that was thrown in his direction. Faheem obviously wanted to shed light on his attacker so they could better target him. Nizam took full advantage of the extra illumination and rushed at Kamal, prone on the floor, hoping to land his boot to the side of his head. Kamal read the move and instinctively rolled away, simultaneously grabbing Nizam’s leg and tumbling him to the ground.

Kamal, doing his best to control the pain that was rushing through his body, raised himself to his feet and landed two strong kicks to Nizam
’s head with his good leg. Nizam’s head bounced off the concrete floor each time and he lay motionless. For good measure, Kamal took his sidearm and fired two shots into Nizam’s head.

Faheem had taken cover at the shots. Kamal turned himself around, looking for any signs of where Faheem had taken cover, but was unable to pinpoint where he might be.
Draw him out of the shadows
, Kamal thought as he hobbled over to Kaleem’s body.

“
Kaleem, Kaleem!” Kamal yelled, slapping him across the face. He paused for a second to reach down to check for a pulse.
Faint, but he is alive
. Kamal lifted Kaleem over his shoulder, wincing from the pain in his torso from by the repeated blows. “I’ll get us out of here,” he said to his friend, “just hang on.” He moved towards the door, knowing there was only one escape route, which would most likely end with confrontation with either Faheem or the Brigadier and his reinforcements. He could tell the Brigadier who he was, but not Faheem. That information would end up in Bajaur.

Reaching the door, Kamal poked his head out to see if anyone was in the corridor. He saw a shadow move in the corridor and quickly pulled back into the hall. Glancing around, he found a dark corner where he could put Kaleem, while he dealt with the shadow in the corridor. Setting him down, Kamal heard a noise in the hall behind him. He sat motionless, protected from sight by the darkness that engulfed the area around him, surveying the area for clues to the direction of the sound. He had been struggling with dark spots in his eyes since the goon struck his head, but he was sure that he saw something move to his right.

“You might as well come out,” a voice hollered. “We have you surrounded.”

Kamal quietly moved from his location to one closer to the voice, and called out, “Who the fuck is we?”

“We are the Frontier Constabulary,” said the voice, giving Kamal a better indication of where the person was standing in the darkness. “Come out now, Dawood! Or we open fire!”

Open fire? Is he kidding? He has no idea where I am.
Kamal called out again, slowly moving closer to the voice, “Open fire. You will only kill your own.”

“Do you think this is a negotiation?” the voice yelled. “Show yourself.”

“If you are FC, you’re a ranking officer,” Kamal called back. “Protocol demands that you identify yourself.”

Suddenly, the tone of the voice changed. That the intruder was familiar with the keyword protocol followed by the military for hostage situations made him realize that he was dealing with someone who either is or was military.

“Name and rank, solider!” the voice called out, booming through the warehouse.

“Fuck you and your name and rank!” Kamal answered, moving again in the darkness behind the Brigadier. “You know who I am. Tell me who the fuck you are!”

The silence was deafening as Brigadier Imtiaz contemplated his next move.
Is my luck really this shitty? Did I authorize the capture and interrogation of an ISI operative based on faulty intelligence?
His mind spun in different directions, contemplating the fallout from this hurried decision that had been backed only by his over-ambitious ego.

“Men, lower your…” the voice shouted out. His sentence was stopped midstream, as Kamal snatched his sidearm and placed its cool barrel against his temple.

“When you were told that the ISI had a deep cover operative, why would you carry out this mission?” Kamal growled in his ear. “Are you really that stupid? Tell them to lower their weapons and come out of the shadows.”

The Brigadier could feel his throat closing from the chokehold Kamal applied. Tightening it slightly, he ordered him again, “Tell them!” before slightly releasing the hold to allow the Brigadier to speak. In the cover of darkness, no one had seen him take him and not being seen would facilitate his escape without having his cover blown.

“Men, we have a friendly here.” The Brigadier’s raspy voice quavered as he called out to his troops. “Lower your weapons and show yourselves.”

“Wait one minute and then turn on the lights,” Kamal whispered into his ear. He released his hold on the Brigadier
’s throat. He had no intention of being there when the lights came on.

Someone pulled a lever, bringing all the lights in the warehouse on. Kaleem
’s bruised body lay motionless in a corner. The two closest soldiers ran towards him to check his vital signs, tripping over another body as they ran towards him.

“Men, fan out and search the warehouse,” the Brigadier ordered. “Make sure there are no hostiles left inside.” The Brigadier glanced around the hall for the person who had, moments earlier, had him in a chokehold, but saw no one. His hand instinctively dropped to his sidearm, finding it in his holster, creating even greater confusion in his mind.
Why would he leave the gun? He didn’t know how many men I have with me.
Looking around the warehouse, all he saw were bodies and blood trails, and his own soldiers, gingerly moving through the building.

Kamal stood on the roof of the warehouse, watching the entire show below. He knew that he had escaped with his life. Kaleem had been sacrificed as the friendly in this encounter, but the bloodlust that the Sheikh had for Dawood was not going to be quenched with just one sacrifice. He would want Dawood as well. Below him was a contingent of FC personnel patrolling the street and making his escape from the building roof impossible. He would just have to wait them out. The Colonel knew that there was a friendly there and the ISI would not confirm the identity after such a brazen attack on an operative. He would have no reason to leave anyone behind for surveillance, and even if he did, Kamal was confident that he could slip away unnoticed.

Realizing that it may be a while before he could move, Kamal relaxed against the concrete roof, finally taking stock of the various injuries that were battling for his attention. Slumping down against the short wall that surrounded the roof, he slowly slipped into unconsciousness. His last thought was a growing desire to even the score with the Sheikh.

* * *

A long, troublesome ten days had already passed since the Prime Minister’s assassination. President Butt had stopped speaking to the media at his official visits because he had no new information from any quarter. The law enforcement agencies had not progressed beyond the ballistics on the bullet and the shooter’s location. The investigation was moving too slow for the President, but that was secondary to the real issue — filling the seat vacated by Azam Shah.