"As I said, I am not sure if there is a special operations team in that area or not," Joplin said. "But the information you've been given indicates there is. I will visit my contacts in SOLS and see what can be arranged. I'll send the information to you by diplomatic courier."
Aburrani stood up and leaned across the table, offering his hand. "Thank you, Carl. I shall await your message." Joplin got to his feet and shook hands with his guest.
.
EAST RIDGE
11 AUGUST
1820 HOURS LOCAL
THE warlord's compound in the valley below. Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins checked the copy of the layout sketch given them by the operative Ishaq back in Isolation, comparing it with what he now studied through his binoculars.
Connie Concord, loosely holding his M-16 and attached M-203, lay beside the fire team leader. He looked down at the crude fort. "There ain't been too many changes since Ishaq made them sketches, huh?"
"Nope," Dawkins said. "But I can see more vehicles now. Ishaq said they was maybe a couple of vans and four Toyota pickups along with some of the motorbikes and rickshaws. I see three vans and a little sedan now."
"All of them vans is white," Connie said. "You'd think the dumb bastards would have painted 'em a camouflage pattern by now."
"They prob'ly ain't got any paint," Dawkins said. He noted a change in the number of houses in the village inside the walls, and entered the information on the map., "I've been noticing the women down there. Them Muslims is terrible mean to their females."
"Yeah," Connie agreed. "They make 'em wear those burgas so other men can't look at 'ern."
"Ragheads must be real jealous sumbitches," Dawkins said. "Their women can't do much with their lives."
Connie thought about his two young daughters Karen Sue and Lilly. Both were doing very well in school and could realistically look forward to good careers and independence as adult women. If they decided to be stay-at-home moms, they could do that too. He couldn't imagine living in a system that would reduce his little girls to growing up to be nothing more than birth-giving, obedient automatons for barbaric husbands. He glanced at the senior chief. "Do you think them ragheads will ever join the twenty-first century?"
"Well," Dawkins mused, "maybe the twenty-second or twenty-third."
As the two SEALs conversed softly, the other two members of the team--Gutsy Olson and Chad Murchison--were up twenty meters higher on the mountain, scanning the area to make sure no mujahideen patrols snuck up on them. The mission had been laid on the night before by the Skipper. His intuitive expectation that the platoon was going to have at least one more operation in this particular OA made him want to have Ishaq's map checked out and updated.
Besides the number and placement of the buildings, the Bravos had noted the times of watch changes, the different sentry posts and the comings and goings of the various members of the band. They also quickly spotted what appeared to be a couple of prisoners brought out of a large portable storage container, then taken to a but that was an obvious head. This had happened about four times in the previous eighteen hours.
Senior Chief Buford looked over to the mountaintop, happily noting the sinking of the sun. As soon as it was dark, they would pull out and hump it back to the CP on West Ridge.
.
WARLORD'S COMPOUND
15 AUGUST
1700 H0URS LOCAL
ZAID Aburrani sat in the seat of the reconfigured British Westland Whirlwind helicopter as it approached the compound. He glanced out the view port and could see the people a thousand feet below as they came streaming out of their homes to greet his arrival. They had no idea who he was or the reason for his visit, but the fact that an outsider had arrived was something for the locals to get excited about.
The chopper eased into a hover and began descending. Within moments the wind from its prop wash began kicking up dust from the thin cover of dirt over the hard-packed ground. The children rushed toward the aircraft, taking no notice of any potential danger from the landing gear, the rotors or the fact that the helicopter might lose power and crash. Aburrani was always amazed by the kids' inability to recognize danger in any form. It seemed to be a racial characteristic of the people not to consider the consequences of their actions. Even experienced fighting men of the Pashtuns many times let their emotions get the best of them in battle. They would take rash actions that resulted in heavier casualties than were necessary. The biggest reason for this illogical behavior was the fatalistic teachings of Islam that encouraged accepting death as the inevitable consequence of Allah's will..
Aburrani was a seriously practicing Islamic, and he resented older Muslims enticing their youth to sacrifice themselves in a misdirected version of martyrdom. It was rather disconcerting that these volunteer victims were unable to understand the political side of their self-immolation.
As soon as the helicopter wheels hit the ground, the motor was cut and the crew chief slid the fuselage door open. Aburrani, carrying his briefcase, stepped down to the ground, where he was met by Ahmet Kharani, the warlord's chief officer.
"Asalaam aleikum," Kharani said in greeting.
"God be with you," Aburrani replied.
"Warlord Durtami awaits you, Brother Aburrani," Kharani said eagerly. "I shall take you to him without delay." "Shukhria," Aburrani said, thanking him.
The two men hurried through the throng of gaping, grinning adults and the yelling children, toward the gate. It took only another half minute to reach the warlord's residence.
Aburrani went through a realistic greeting ceremony with the warlord when he entered his presence. This included some brief inquiries into each other's health and well-being, then the inevitable drinking of tea. Some samosas--pastry filled with potatoes and chickpeas--were also offered. All in all, three-quarters of an hour passed before they were able to get down to the real reason behind the visit.
"And what may I do for you, Brother Aburrani?" Durtami asked, as if he had absolitely no idea as to why the other man would endure a helicopter flight all the way from Kabul to call on him.
"I wish to discuss the hostages," Aburrani answered. "Are they well?"
"Of course," Durtami said. "They were most polite and cooperative when they were brought to me. I have rewarded their good manners with excellent accommodations."
"I am pleased by your kindness and merciful goodness," Aburrani said, knowing that the unfortunate men were undoubtedly locked up in a storage container and probably getting no more than one scanty, miserable meal a day. "We, of course, are anxious to have them back among us. May I ask what tribute you seek for their safe return?"
"One million American dollars," Durtami said. "They appear to be most valuable assets to the government's causes." Aburrani shrugged. "They are low-ranking officials." "But they must be important if they are sent all the way here to visit the farm village in my fiefdom."
"They visit many villages, Amir, all over Afghanistan," Aburrani said.
"Seven hundred thousand American dollars."
Aburrani seemed thoughtful before he said, "Twenty-five thousand dollars."
"I cannot let them go for fifty thousand dollars." Aburrani shook his head. "That is twenty-five thousand dollars for both."
"One hundred thousand dollars for both!" Durtami said. He waved his hand in a gesture of finality. "That is it. I have bargained down as far as I can possibly go."