Jericho 3 (18 page)

“Oh, Leslie,” Ruth gasped.

“Seventy men of the original 350 died within the first two months. After the beatings and the work and limited rations, Karl weighed 84 pounds when the Americans finally liberated them in April of 1945, but not before the Nazis forced them on a 150-mile death march.”

The old farm kitchen was quiet. No one had any words to utter as all contemplated what a poor American soldier must have gone through almost 70 years before.

“Well, on that happy note, we have some work to do, don’t we Seabury?” Leslie concluded.

“I’ve never done anything like this, Leslie. I’m not a TV anchorman.”

Leslie laughed as she removed a small digital video camera from her backpack and a small tripod.

“No experience necessary, Seabury. I’ll set the camera on the tripod, press the RECORD button, and I’ll walk away. It won’t hurt at all.”

“You still think this is a good idea?” Seabury asked as he pushed his chair back from the farmhouse kitchen table.

“Well, sir, you said that you don’t want Camp to know while he’s serving in Afghanistan. You may be right; it may distract him from his mission. But he’ll be upset that he wasn’t told,” Raines said as she took her fancy plate to the sink.

“Don’t you worry about those, Leslie, you two get to work,” Ruth added as she gathered up the coffee mugs.

“Leslie, do you think Junior tells us everything he’s doing over there in the war? Or do you think he holds things back so his mom and dad won’t be upset?”

Raines couldn’t look Seabury in the eyes. She knew he was correct, but she knew Camp would want to know, and she knew he would be upset. It seemed like the best thing to do.

“Dr. Blauw said that since you were older when the Alzheimer’s was detected, it may progress fairly rapidly…you may get worse, faster. Now’s the best chance, Seabury, to tell your son what you’re feeling…what you’re going through.”

“Let’s get going while I’m still sharp. Things get a bit fuzzier as the day gets older.”

Seabury grabbed his red jacket off the hook behind the kitchen door and his John Deere cap.

“Honey, where are you going? Leslie has the camera in the house,” Ruth said not sure if Seabury’s mind was fading already.

“I want to film this in the barn. It’s where my boy and I spent most of our time together.”

Seabury walked out the door and headed to the barn. Leslie grabbed the camera and tripod and followed out the door.

Seabury pulled a milking stool over in front of the stalls. The barn was empty now that all of the cows were out in the pasture grazing. Leslie put the camera on the tripod.

“Ready?”

Seabury nodded.

Raines pushed the record button and verified the framing. She backed up, waved, and walked out of the barn. As she was closing the barn door she heard Seabury start to speak.

“Hello, son…this is your daddy…Seabury Campbell, Senior…that makes you Junior…well, I’m not sure how to start this so, here goes…I’ve got some bad news.”

ISAF Headquarters

Kabul, Afghanistan

G
eneral Ferguson returned to his office at 2330 hours with his two coffee-pouring majors waiting for the telephone call. It was 1400 hours back at Langley, an odd nine-and-a-half hours behind. Ferguson knew that Langley had no intention of being inconvenienced with an off-hours call, so it was his job to suit up and go back to the office before retiring for the evening. Whatever the issue was, it was worthy of a late night call.

The call finally rang in on Ferguson’s desk. The telephone was right next to him, but he motioned for one of the majors to answer it.

“General Ferguson’s desk. Major Spann speaking…yes, sir…please hold, sir.”

Spann put the call on hold and handed the phone to Ferguson. He shuffled through some papers he hadn’t been looking at before the phone rang, then finally took the call off hold and answered with his ‘busy’ voice.

“Ferguson.”

“General Ferguson, this is Special Agent Daniels, and I have Agent Fallon Jessup with me. My apologies, sir, for the lateness of the call.”

“What can I do for you this evening?”

“Sir, you’ve already received our classified briefing regarding the shipment on Russian rails heading toward Ashgabat, Turkmenistan. There’s another component that may or may not be related, but I wanted to bring it to your attention. Actually, we met with Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Raines at Fort Detrick, and she asked if you had been informed.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sir, Agent Fallon Jessup here. Two commercial mosquito misters were sold by an Illinois company to the city of Hamburg, Germany. The sprayers were stolen out of the warehouse in Hamburg, and the serial numbers showed up at a port in Jakarta, Indonesia. The police in Jakarta tracked the sprayers down to a black market importer who sold them to an unknown party in Islamabad, Pakistan.”

“That’s a very nice story, Agent Jessup; thank you for sharing it,” Ferguson said with no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.

“Sir, if someone was trying to cook a special recipe of a biological agent, then a commercial sprayer, a misting device like this, might be the ticket to creating an aerosolized bio-weapon,” Daniels added.

Ferguson grew silent.

“Sir, I know you have your finger on the pulse with Special Ops missions going in and out of Pakistan. Perhaps you could include this information in your ops planning and briefings. We sure would like to see these two SkitoMisters immobilized. Has Captain Campbell’s mission launched?”

Ferguson and his two majors looked uncomfortable.

“Special Agent Daniels…when did you acquire this intelligence?” Ferguson asked.

“Sir, we’ve been following this paper trail for several weeks now. With the stockpiles on a Russian train headed for the Iranian border, we’ve been connecting some dots.”

“Well, perhaps you should have connected a bit sooner. You’re well aware of the fact that Campbell’s operational detachment is moving into North Waziristan as we speak. Unfortunately, they only have unit comms with contingency plans to use their SAT phones if the situation on the ground warrants. We’ve got a drone watching from above and tracking all 17 beacons. We intend to see 18 beacons on egress. But there’s no way to initiate communications while they’re navigating the mountain passes. It would have been nice to get this information a bit earlier. Anything else?”

“No, sir, just the SkitoMisters.”

“Well, glad to know the Agency is spending our time and money trying to protect the Taliban from a mosquito infestation. Sounds like an important mission. Goodnight.”

Ferguson rubbed his eyes and pulled a cigar out of his top drawer. He was irritated and tired but mostly tired of separate US government agencies and their reluctance to share intelligence with each other in a timely manner.

“Major Spann, get Creech Air Force Base on the line. I want a status report on Alpha Team.”

“Roger.”

Ferguson lit up and paced back and forth in front of the classified maps that filled two walls in his rectangular office. He paused to review Alpha Team’s mission plan and time markers which were laid over the Khost – Miran Shah map with great detail. Checking his watch, Ferguson ran his finger from the northwest starting point and stopped where the time marker said the team ought to be as Spann talked with the Tactical Operations Center at the stateside Nevada base.

“Sir, all 17 beacons gathered in Toledo according to plan. Final leg of the ingress, six dials from Sherwood Forest.”

Ferguson traced the mission plan from the cave complex called Toledo, through the riverbed complex of caves, over Bannu Road and into Datta Khel Village. They were only six hours away.

Miran Shah District

North Waziristan, Pakistan

A
t 0930 the two squads of Alpha Team mustered in the largest cave. The weather was cooperating perfectly for the final six hour push into Datta Khel Village. Weather conditions were miserable. Heavy snow was falling, the wind had picked up and was whipping around the rock walls of the Hindu Kush. The daylight traverse to the village would require as much cloaked transparency as both snow camo and blowing snow could afford. Once out of the Hindu Kush, the Alpha Team would have limited cover. Omid would lead them directly to the house he had surveyed a few days before, so the team wouldn’t have to remain exposed for very long.

“Listen up,” Manson said as he placed the map in front of Alpha Team. “We’re two clicks out, but at point-six kilometers per hour we could be there in two-and-half hours. We’ve allowed six hours in case of hostiles. We stay spread out along the river bed so snipers have a more difficult kill zone. Once on Bannu Road, we stay smart. Any vehicles, military or other, we go down and hold until they pass. Do not engage. Clear? If we have to engage before Datta Khel, then kiss Major Banks goodbye as we scurry back over the Hindu Kush.”

“Gentlemen, take a look outside,” Sanchez said pointing to the cave opening. “The weather has gone red. Ain’t nobody flying a bird up here in this white-out to save our sorry asses. The blowing snow will cover us, but if momma nature warms up, we could be looking at rain. The mission is right on track, 20 clicks in 53 hours. Two more clicks and, as Manson said, we only need two-and-half dials, but we will use six full dials if we need them. Once we find Banks, get a beacon on him immediately. The drone boys are watching our 17 beacons, and they’re expecting an eighteenth. It’s the only way ‘eyes in the skies’ can distinguish us from Haji. Questions?”

Camp pulled some ice out of his three-week beard as everyone pulled their snow camo masks over their faces for the rapid descent into Datta Khel Village.

In less than 10 minutes Alpha Team had descended the steep footpaths that merged with the riverbed. The trail was completely covered with blowing and blinding snow. The two squads were spread out, but the two scouts with the M4A1s were moving too slow for the clock ticking in Manson’s head. Manson gave a hand signal to Brick, and the CW2 stopped his unit. Manson walked over to Omid who was 30 meters ahead of Camp.

“I need you on point with the scouts, Omid. You know the route. We can’t see shit.”

Omid nodded and ran to the front. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Omid took point, and the pace doubled. No one in Alpha Team could be sure that Omid was actually keeping them on mission, but the blinding snow gave them few options.

The medic in Brick’s squad yelled up to Dex who was carrying the SAT phone package.

“You trust that Iranian?” Lynch asked.

“I don’t even trust
your
fat duff.”

Emerging from what seemed to be a thousand switchbacks along the riverbed, Alpha Team reached Bannu Road. One set of fresh tire tracks in the snow was heading in the direction of Datta Khel Village. A truck going into the village could mean a truck leaving sooner or later.

The smell of burning wood fire pits wafted in and out of the wind. The smoke hovered low from the heavy snow and couldn’t blow out and over the Hindu Kush.

The first house was visible on Bannu Road. A brown wall made of rocks and mud surrounded the house where a tribesman could make sure his livestock remained close.

Omid stopped. The two squads of Alpha Team stopped behind him. There was nothing to see. No one could hear anything other than the howling wind. Suddenly Omid gave the down sign, and he dove to the side of the road. Sixteen other Alpha Teamers were down and still before Omid’s body even settled.

Camp peered up through his snow camo mask. Nothing.

Out of the blowing snow, Camp started to see an image emerge. A donkey started to break through the wall of snow seemingly coming from infinity. As the donkey walked closer, Camp’s eye caught a glimpse of a tribal elder, bundled up with blankets and scarves across his face and eyes. A Pashtun Pakul was tucked on top of his head. He was sitting on a perch behind the donkey which pulled him and the rusted steel bed of an old Toyota pick-up truck slowly down Bannu Road. The donkey, driver and Toyota bed passed within feet of Omid, Camp, Billy Finn and 14 other members of Operation Detachment Alpha Team.

When the donkey caravan had disappeared from sight, Ham got on the unit communications.

“Clear,” came the whisper from Ham which was heard over every headset in the unit. The team rose as one.

Omid led them past the first house then gave a quick hand signal that was repeated down line. Omid didn’t like the conditions for the main mission plan, the one he had crafted, and decided to utilize the fall-back option, an option he had created as well. With so much snow, local tribesmen would be more inclined to use Bannu Road if they were even outside in these conditions. The six-hour contingency plan allowed them some flexibility.

One hundred fifty meters past the first house and beyond the first street in Datta Khel Village, Omid took a hard right to the southwest and away from their southeast plan. The team cut through a field as a large grove of trees started to emerge in the distance where the walls of more houses came into view.

Once inside the grove, code-named Sherwood Forest, Geek pulled out his binoculars to assess the four houses that lined the near side of the second street. The team needed to cross the second street. The second house on the second street was their target-rich environment.

Smoke was pouring from three of the four houses on the first street. Omid watched for Geek’s sign. The second house seemed to be vacant or at worst, no one was up cooking or warming themselves by a fire yet.

Omid climbed the backyard wall of the second house followed by 16 more men. No animals greeted him in the backyard, so that was a good sign. Sheep at the first and third houses started bleating. A goat rose up over the wall as Alpha Team hustled past.

As the two squads of Alpha Team passed over the outer wall of the second house, Chip pulled out his thermal imagery scope and pointed it at the house.

There was nothing “living” in the house. No heat.

Omid approached the front wall of the second house. He scanned up and down the street. There was no activity.