Seals (2005) (6 page)

The men broke off to go to their homes while Abzai continued over to Warlord Ayyub Durtami's residence. He nodded to the guards at the door, who looked at him inquisitively. "I am here to report to the warlord about last night's ambush."

The guards' eyes opened wide. "Was there a battle last night?"

"Nothing happened," Abzai said. "There was nobody to shoot at."

"Not much to report to the warlord," one remarked.

His buddy went inside and reappeared moments later, nodding his head to indicate the mujahideen had permission to enter. Abzai walked into the building apprehensively. He hoped the fierce warlord would not consider the mission a failure. The least a mujahideen could expect in that case was a brutal caning. He found Durtami in conference with his chief lieutenant, Ahmet Kharani.

Abzai bowed and spoke in a tone of deep reverence. "Asalaam aleikum, Amir."

"Pakhair--welcome," Durtami said. "You seem disappointed, Brother Abzai. Did no one appear at your ambush?"

"Alas no:' Abzai replied. "We waited in great alertness all through the night, but not one stranger appeared at the old village."

"You must be patient," Kharani said, not wanting to let him know there was a chance that the effort might be only a waste of time. The fighters had to feel that everything they did was important, in order to keep up their ardor for battle.

"Au!" Durtami agreed. "When we apprehend the infidel dogs who twisted Kariska away from Islam, your hours of futility will be forgotten."

"Yes, Amir," Abzai said. "Meanwhile I have discovered the village to be very defendable. I have also had the men construct some strong positions from some of the rubble that was scattered about."

"Excellent:' Durtami said. "You are doing a fine job, Brother Abzai. I am now promoting you to the rank of jak bresh--sergeant."

Abzai's features broke into a wide grin. "Sukhria--thank you, Amin"

"You are dismissed," Durtami said. After the new sergeant left the room, the warlord turned to his chief lieutenant to resume their interrupted conversation. "Are you sure about the news of a government team coming to register the village of Herandbe for future elections?"

"Absolutely, Amir," Kharani said.

"May Allah curse them into Hades!" Durtami said. He took a deep, calming breath. "I think this will be a chance to get some hostages. A million afghanis will prove very beneficial to our activities."

"Of course, Amir."

"Very well! You know what to do," Durtami said. "I will attend to it immediately, Amir."

"Show no mercy!"

"I shall obey, Amir," Kharani said. "Your wrath is my wrath."

Chapter 4

OPERATIONAL AREA 8 AUGUST

2200 HOURS LOCAL

THE Odd Couple Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz moved silently across the firm ground of the valley, staying alert with the pessimistic apprehension that keeps professional combat troops vigilant and alive. A thick layer of clouds blocked the moon, but the darkness did not affect the two SEALs using AN/PVS-21 night vision system goggles. They had taken forty-minutes to travel a little more than a kilometer and a half, stopping every fifty meters to squat, look and listen during the move through the alien environment that held such a strong potential for danger.

They had left the remainder of the platoon in a defensive position at the base of East Ridge. The two-man patrol's mission was pure reconnaissance, and they were to avoid contact with the enemy.

"Hold it!" Dave whispered over the LASH headset. "Whatcha see?"

"I think that's the village over there at about eleven o'clock."

Mike looked in the indicated direction. "Yeah. Let's do a little observing before we move any closer."

The Odd Couple loosened the headsets and pulled them back to free their ears to listen for any sounds as they carefully scrutinized the rubble of the village and the area around it. A kicked rock, a voice, a cough, belch or fart would be a sure sign somebody was in the vicinity. After a couple of minutes they were positive nobody else was around. The two replaced the LASH headsets, then stood up and cautiously moved forward, holding their CAR-15s ready.

When they reached the ruins, it was obvious the place had been wrecked by rocketing from helicopter gunships. No mortar or artillery damage was apparent. "This prob'ly happened when the Russkis were fighting here," Dave opined.

"I hope the women and kids got away," Mike said. "But I doubt it."

"Guerrilla warfare is nasty on civilians, man."

"The Afghan War happened in the 1970s and 1980s," Mike said. "That means this place was blown up between twenty and thirty-five years ago. And since nobody came back to live here again, it means they were all killed."

"Yeah," Dave said. "Shit happens. C'mon! The skipper wants us to watch this place for at least a half hour."

They left the ruins, and went out to a spot in some scrub brush twenty meters away to settle down for a further period of observation.

.

2310 HOURS LOCAL

CHAD Murchison knelt beside the rocks peering out into the darkness that was molded into a green and white visibility by his night vision device. He was with his mates of Bravo Fire Team, anxiously scanning the countryside to the direct front of their defensive position. Assad and Leibowitz were out there someplace in that wilderness scoping out the location where the defector was to show up.

This was Chad's fourth mission and his first as a Brigand, yet he still could not believe he was a SEAL. He was from a wealthy Boston family replete with old money, an ancestry that could be traced back to the Pilgrims, and money-making generations in banking, stockbroking and other financial professions. Chad, who had grown up as a privileged preppy, was skinny and awkward as a kid. In all his years at the exclusive Starkweather Academy in New Hampshire, he never made an athletic team or even participated in intramural sports between dormitories. Nobody wanted the kid with two left feet on his team. This lack of physical prowess and strength left him with a serious inferiority complex in spite of his brilliant academic record. He dropped out of his freshman year at Yale to enlist in the Navy after his girlfriend dumped him for a jock. An indoctrination lecture about the SEALs during boot camp made him decide to try for masculine glory one more time. He volunteered for the elite unit, ignoring the discouragement given him by his commanding officer. Chad reported to Coronado with a determination he had never felt before. He swore he would kill himself if he didn't make this cut.

Despite his resoluteness, Chad barely made it through the training, as he struggled more with his natural clumsiness than with a lack of zeal or courage. In the end it was his stubborn, bulldog attitude that finally won over the instructors. Here was a guy who wouldn't quit; who would keep fighting and busting his balls until there wasn't a breath left in his body.

Now he was seriously considering disregarding family traditions by not returning home to finish school and begin a banking career in the family firm. At this time in his life, the idea of not being a SEAL or one of Brannigan's Brigands was beneath consideration as far as Petty Officer Third Class Chadwick Murchison was concerned. He scorned everything in his past life, including Penny Brubaker, the girl who dumped him. It was like the guys in the platoon always said, "Turn the broads upside down and they all look alike."

A movement to the front caught Chad's attention, and he instantly recognized the figures of Dave Leibowitz and Mike Assad approaching the position. He could tell by their actions they were in an easy mood, and he stood up so the Odd Couple could see him. He nodded to them as they walked up. "Anything interesting out there?"

Mike shook his head. "Just a village like they told us in Isolation."

"The fucking terrain out there looks like the high desert in California," Dave added. "Remember that training operation at Trona south of the China Lake Weapons Center? Same thing exactly."

They went back to the area where Bill Brannigan had set up his command post with Senior Chief Dawkins. Both squatted down in front of the honchos while Dave gave the report. "Nothing there, sir. I'd hate to have to attack the place though. There's dozens of places in those knocked down buildings for cover and concealment."

Dawkins took a bite of his PowerBar. "Did it look like anybody had been there lately?"

"It's hard to pick up tracks on the hard ground," Dave said. "But nobody's obviously lived there for a hell of a long time."

"Deserted," Mike pronounced.

"Well, I hope that defector shows up sometime tonight," Brannigan said. "Okay, guys. Take a break. Send Lieutenant Cruiser, Chief Gunnarson and Puglisi over here."

"Aye, sir," Dave said.

A couple of minutes later the three SEALs responded to the firm invitation and joined the skipper and senior chief in the bucolic headquarters. Brannigan shifted his seat on the rocks he had been warming with his buttocks. "Assad and Leibowitz say there's nothing at the site. I want you three to go over there and see if somebody shows up for a meet. Take off at oh-two-hundred and wait until oh-five-hundred. If nothing happens by then, we'll have to try again tomorrow night."

"What if more than one guy shows up?" Jim Cruiser asked.

"Don't make contact in that case," Brannigan said. "We'll try again. If there're two of 'em, the next time we'll take a chance. But not now."

"Gotcha, sir," Cruiser said. He checked his watch. "Hell! We've got time for a two-hour nap."

.

VILLAGE RUINS

9 AUGUST

0100 HOURS LOCAL

BAS HAR Abzai led his group of ten mujahideen into the rubble to set up for another period of waiting and watching. During the hike to the site, which started late because he had so much trouble rounding up the men, he had begun to wonder if this was some useless situation that wasn't going to amount to much. They really didn't have a lot of solid information to go on except a confession tortured out of a frightened man. Abzai wasn't so sure about that method of interrogation. He'd seen it a lot in the past, and most prisoners would end up saying anything, if only to get the awful pain to stop. But just the same, he had brought along an old Russian flare pistol and a half dozen star shells in case there was some validity to the situation.

After he placed everybody into proper firing positions, he settled down in one of the higher piles of rubble so he could keep an eye on everything. As he sat there, Abzai began to think about his promotion to sergeant. That was the first time he had ever heard rank mentioned in the warlord's band. Most people were called by whatever their jobs happened to be at a particular time. There were patrol leaders, senior guards, snipers, bombers and all that. Warlord Durtami had made him a sergeant. Abzai wondered if that meant a raise in his share of the money that was divided among the mujahideen when they sold the poppy gum, or ransomed hostages.

He looked out over the terrain to their front. He couldn't see a blessed thing. The darkness was as deep and black as the inside of one of the caves up in the mountains. They would have to rely on sounds if they were to catch anybody. He suddenly remembered the flare pistol, and loaded it. At the first disturbance, he would fire it off so he and his men could at least see what was going on for fifteen seconds or so.

A sudden snort, followed by snoring, broke the silence of the night. Abzai angrily got to his feet and stumbled toward the sound. He found one of the men leaning back against an old hearth, sleeping.

"Wake up!" Abzai exclaimed angrily, kicking him hard. "Ow!" the mujahideen said. He got to his feet. "I shall cut your throat for that!"

"And the warlord will cut yours!" Abzai sneered. "Are you forgetting I am a sergeant by his personal command?"

The fellow rubbed his sore leg. "I do not even know what a sergeant is."

"It is a rank of authority," Abzai said, "like in the army, understand, bumpkin? And if you fall asleep again, I shall turn you over to Hamid the Jailer. Is that what you want? He can give you pain that is a thousand times worse than what you feel now. Shall we go see Hamid when we get back in the morning?"

"Na," the man said, shaking his head. "I will not fall asleep again."

"See that you don't," Abzai said.

He went back up to his own position to continue the night's waiting.

.

SEAL CP

0155 HOURS LOCAL

LIEUTENANT Jim Cruiser led Chief Gunnarson and Puglisi over to where the skipper and Senior Chief Dawkins sat in the rocks. "We're ready to move out, sir."