Hostage Crisis (3 page)

“Do you think he’s warning us of trouble ahead?” Hassan asked.

Amin shrugged. “Perhaps. This is dangerous tribal territory. The Baloch warlords are always switching sides. One week they welcome us with open arms, the next they’d happily cut off our heads.” He sighed. “The sooner we reach our training camp close to the border with Pakistan, the better. We have dependable friends there.”

“Do you think the Americans will try to rescue her, Amin?”

“Perhaps.” He gestured to the mountains. “This is mujahedin country, Hassan. There are many hidden caves and crevices. Men can vanish in the blink of an eye. It will not be easy for them to catch us.”

Hassan shivered. Amin and the others considered him one of them now, a Taliban fighter. Plagued by guilt, he recalled how his father had despised the Taliban. As they set off once again, Hassan made a silent promise to himself. When the time came he would escape and, so the world would know he was no Taliban fighter, he’d rescue Kate too.

“Official US policy is an ass!” Senator Shawcross shouted, banging his fist on the table. “We’re talking about my daughter. If a million bucks is what it takes, then so be it.”

General Patterson tried to calm the senator. “Paying a ransom is no guarantee we’ll get Miss Shawcross back. And any rescue attempt will need careful planning—”

“You heard what Dr Tom Ford said. We’ve got a week.” The senator pointed to a large map on the wall. “That region’s huge, and right now she could be anywhere, goddamnit.”

“Our sources on the ground say they’re heading for a remote compound close to the border, where we believe there’s a Taliban training camp. We’ve been gathering intel on it for some time now,” the general added.

“Well, why don’t you go after them and kick some butt?” the senator snarled angrily.

Connor was sitting at the back of the room but only half listening. He was studying Tom Ford’s debriefing notes and a copy of the ransom demand. Tom’s description of the Taliban leader at the medical station fitted Masud right down to his toothless grin. Connor’s thoughts then turned to his personal mission to find his late friend’s son, Hassan. The two were linked. Finding Masud would also mean locating Hassan. During a previous mission to destroy a US Predator drone stolen by Masud, Connor had found evidence that Hassan was among them.

The general drew the meeting to a close and a frustrated Senator Shawcross was shown out.

Connor stood. “Now the senator has left, can you fill me in on what we do know, General?”

“Of course, Major. We’re tracking Masud and Miss Shawcross’ precise movements. Miss Shawcross has a personal GPS tracker. It was issued to her before she left Kandahar. Provided she keeps wearing it we’ll always know where she is, down to the nearest metre or so.”

The GPS would lead them right to Hassan, too, Connor thought. He could scarcely hide his delight. “We’ll be attempting a rescue, I assume.”

The general nodded. “Joint Ops is putting together detailed plans.”

“I want in, sir.”

In a cave somewhere in the mountains, Hassan sat next to Kate Shawcross watching goat stew bubbling slowly on a fire. Hassan hated goat stew. Instead, he had trapped a wild hamster, killed and skinned it just as his father had taught him.

It had roasted over the fire during evening prayers, and now he pulled juicy flesh from the tiny bones. He offered some to Kate.

“Gah! Are you kidding?” Kate scrunched her face up and looked away.

“It is rude to refuse,” Hassan replied in English.

“Yeah? Well, I'd say kidnapping is a far worse crime. How old are you, anyway?”

“Twelve,” he replied. He sat down next to her. “In our country,” he continued, “we always treat guests, even our enemies, with respect. That is our way, the Afghan way.”

“Really? Well, thanks, but no thanks.”

Orange flames flickered and danced on the wall of the cave. Amin sat cross-legged close to the fire plucking tunes on his
tanbur
, a long-necked lute.

Hassan shuffled a little to his right, pressing up close to Kate. She leaned away. “I am a prisoner too,” he whispered. “I had no choice but to join them. The Taliban killed my family for talking to you Americans. I am waiting for my chance to escape. I can help you. When the moment comes, we shall get away together.”

Kate stared at Hassan, open-mouthed.

Masud was in deep conversation with some of his men. Kate noticed he was perspiring heavily, shivering and looking exhausted. Fresh blood seeped through his shirt from his old shoulder wound. “How much further do we have to go?” she asked Hassan.

“Amin tells me another three days or so before we reach the Taliban training camp close to the border. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering.” Kate's medical training told her that Masud was sick. Very sick. And that scared her. She could tell the others depended on his leadership. Without it, she feared the worst possible fate; that they'd abandon their hostage plan and simply kill her. Would ISAF try to rescue her? Would they come in time? Kate reached up to make sure the top buttons on her blouse remained fastened. Beneath, hung round her neck, lay a chunky necklace containing a GPS tracking device. The local ISAF commander had insisted she wear it. Thank god, she thought. At least they know where I am.

Mid-sentence Masud closed his eyes and slumped over.

“Masud! Masud!” Those beside him panicked, jumping to their feet, shouting, pulling at his arms to try to get him up. Someone called out, “I think he's dead!”

Connor was ordered to attend the late-night official briefing together with the commanders of two other Special Forces units, Arrow and Spear.

“Trying to take on Masud in the open is simply too risky, and so we’re going to let him reach their training camp,” the head of Joint Operations announced. “It’ll mean taking on more Taliban, but we judge the odds will be in our favour. Using the GPS tracker we’ll know Miss Shawcross’s exact location and so the extraction team can be in and out fast. Major Connor, I’d like your Delta Force team to handle that.”

Connor nodded.

“Meanwhile, the compound will come under sustained assault from Arrow and Spear in a manner that will maximise confusion and mayhem. Speed and surprise will be crucial. Once Miss Shawcross is clear, co-ordinated air strikes will obliterate the camp.”

Connor sat up with a jolt. He knew from satellite photographs that the camp was large and realised that he’d have precious little time to seek out Hassan as well as rescuing Kate. “Sir,” he called out. “We must surely attempt to capture everyone alive. They will have useful intel for us.”

“Normally, yes, Major. On this occasion, however, it has been decided to go in hard.”

Connor’s mind was in turmoil. How would he find Hassan in time?

After the briefing was over, Connor paid a visit to Camp Delta’s hospital. He sat for an hour beside the bed of the injured boy from the construction site. The constant bleeping of the machines told him the boy was stable, and he’d overheard the surgeon say he was expected to make a full recovery, even though he’d lost a leg.

But as he sat there a plan was taking shape in his head. It was a plan he supposed Central Command would never agree to because it carried huge risks. Hassan wasn’t a priority for them, but Connor couldn’t leave him behind.

He took out his cell phone and scrolled down to the number of a local “fixer” he’d had many dealings with, and could trust.

“Abdul, Major Connor here.
Assalam u alaikum
. Listen, I need a big favour. Do you know a Baloch warlord by the name of Faruq? He lives close to the Pakistan border.”

“
Wa alaikum u ssalam
, Major. Yes, I know him.”

“Good. I’ve met him a few times. He tolerates the Taliban but has no love of them. They have a training camp in his area, and I need to get inside undetected. I figure the only way is by being among faces familiar to the Taliban there. My question is: can Faruq get me in?”

“It may be possible. I shall call him for you,” Abdul hesitated, “but, it will be expensive.”

“There’s five K in it for you, Abdul, and offer Faruq as much cash or as many camels as it takes. Just no weapons. Understood?”

“Yes, Major. I will offer horses. Faruq loves horses. A fine stallion would make him the envy of all the local warlords.”

“Fine. But this is urgent, Abdul. I need an answer within twenty-four hours.”

“I shall do my best. But a word of warning, Major. I know Faruq has worked for you Americans in the past, but his loyalty is as unpredictable as the wind. He cannot be entirely trusted.”

Connor put his phone back in his pocket and stared at the bleeping heart monitor. Now, provided Abdul delivered, he just needed to convince his men that his plan could work. If all went well they’d be heroes. If not, they’d either be court-martialled or dead.

Inside the cave, it took three of Masud’s men to restrain Kate.

“He’s still breathing. I’m a doctor for chrissake. Unless you let me help him, he will die.”

“No…no…you are a woman. It is not permitted.”

Hassan had an idea. “Amin and I will help. She can tell us what to do. That way she does not have to lay hands on him.”

Reluctantly, the others let go of Kate. “Hassan, grab the medical bag the others took from me. Amin, carefully remove Masud’s shirt. I need to look at that shoulder.”

It was as Kate suspected. The wound was infected and she reckoned the bullet was still lodged deep in the muscle. “Right, we must clean the wound. We’ll give him some antibiotics too, but there’s a problem. That bullet has to be removed.”

“What? Here? Now?” Amin asked.

“Yes, here and now. Either you let me cut it out, or I’ll show you how. Which is it to be?”

Amin looked up at her. “And that will save him?”

“It’s our best shot.”

Amin swallowed hard. “Then show me how, and may Allah bless me with a steady hand.”

With Masud sedated, Amin took a deep breath and pressed the scalpel into his flesh. Blood and yellow pus oozed out. Kate watched closely. “Cut deeper into the muscle,” she said. “Much deeper. And stop shaking.”

Beads of sweat formed on Amin’s furrowed brow and trickled down, dripping from the end of his nose. Eventually, he felt the scalpel touch something solid. “Quick, Hassan, hand me the other tool.”

Hassan hurriedly passed the tweezers to Amin and held his breath. Carefully, his friend began to pull out the bullet.

“Allah be praised!” Amin said as he dropped the bullet into Hassan’s palm.

The operation was complete, and Amin needed some fresh air. He wandered outside the cave, with Hassan close behind. Kate stayed by the fire and tried to get some rest.

“This is all wrong,” Hassan whispered to Amin. “Kate is a good person. We must let her go. No enemy of the Taliban would help save Masud.”

Amin said nothing.

“My father used to tell me stories about his best friend when he was my age. An American boy called Nathan Connor. Nathan’s father was a doctor too, and saved many Afghan lives, including my grandmother’s. Masud is wrong. Not all Americans are bad.”

Lifting his head, Amin gazed up at the stars. “It is more complicated than that.”

“No it isn’t,” Hassan protested. “All they want is to bring freedom and peace to our country. To make our lives better.”

Amin turned and looked at him. “The infidels do not share our beliefs. They want to impose their will upon us. This is our country, Hassan, and they are not welcome here. They must go home or die. It is their choice. Do you think they would act any differently to us if the tables were turned?”

“No, but not everyone sees things the Taliban way. Our country is home to many different peoples like the Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbecks, Turkmen and Baloch. Some are Sunni Muslims, others are Shi’a, and they are always arguing. If the Americans go, they will all be at one another’s throats again, worse even than now. There will be no peace or freedom.”