Bashar Dharain, knowing he'd been outsmarted, dropped back to the ground, touching his head to the earth. He began muttering in Pashto. Dr. Bouchier walked up, smiling. "He is giving up. The Pashtos call it nanawatey. ."
"Yeah," Brannigan said. "I've heard of it. It's a kind of apology ceremony or some fucking thing."
Warlord Hassan Khamami and Ahmet Kharani walked up with their entourage of bodyguards. Khamami smiled at Brannigan and spoke in his native tongue.
The interpreter, who had been watching the melee, quickly translated. "The warlord asked if you now understand why he was so harsh with the Dharyans."
Brannigan asked, "How do you say yes in Pashto?"
The interpreter told him, and Brannigan looked over at Khamami. " Au! "
Both Khamami and Kharani laughed aloud.
.
UN AID TEAM MESS TENT
1900 HOURS LOCAL
CHAD Murchison sat next to Penny Brubaker at the long table. A total of eighteen diners occupied the other places on the benches, waiting for the food to be served. It took the SEAL several moments to figure out that the picnic table was actually three separate ones, pushed together and covered by a large cloth. He felt strangely out of place among the civilians. They were of various nationalities, and he picked up snippets of conversation in French, German, Italian and Spanish. As a linguistic scholar, he was fluent in all four, so was able to eavesdrop with little trouble. Most of the talk involved their day-to-day work with the indigenous women and children. Evidently the UN people were enjoying a good reception from their patients and students, while making excellent progress in their work.
The recently hired waiters, all teenage boys from the nearby village, suddenly appeared and began placing the dishes of food on the table. The menu for the evening was green tossed salad with Roquefort dressing, roast beef, fried potatoes, green beans and rolls. This was Chad's first chance in a long time to have a real meal of Western-style dishes, and he found the fare delicious beyond description. The chef was a Senegalese who had left a prestigious job in a four-star Paris restaurant to serve in the UN's humanitarian efforts.
Penny had invited Chad to eat with her colleagues after learning that he and the SEALs were living on MREs. She would have liked to have invited the entire platoon over, but Dr. Bouchier rightfully figured it would be too big a strain on their food supply. He was absolutely correct. If the Brigands had come to eat, they would have easily left the UN personnel on half rations.
The relief workers were polite but reserved toward the SEAL. These were hard-core, experienced people who were already anti-militaristic before leaving their native lands to serve humanity abroad. After enduring countless experiences of seeing people in the depths of absolute misery and despair, it was not surprising that their pacifist tendencies had been reinforced. This was mainly because much of this misery had been caused by military actions. Consequently, they had developed an animosity toward the soldiery of even democratic nations.
The dining experience was a pleasant one for Chad and Penny, who found it a good opportunity to swap some more news about their old haunts. Although both had been away from home for a long time, they had garnered snippets of information through exchanges of letters with family and friends.
.
THE COUNTRYSIDE
2010 HOURS LOCAL
CHAD Murchison and Penny Brubaker walked side by side but did not make any attempts to hold hands. Although there was no real danger, Chad had strapped on his pistol belt with the 9-millimeter weapon, loaded with fifteen rounds and one in the chamber. There was always the chance that some disgruntled Dharyan still held a grudge about the young sex slaves. Chad's latest experiences in Afghanistan had taught him that Pashtuns were an unpredictable, wildly emotional people.
Neither young person talked much during the initial minutes of the stroll, and Penny would glance at Chad with fond nervousness from time to time. Finally she blurted out, "It was a big mistake of me to take up with Cliff."
Chad shrugged. "What the hell? He was a lot better looking than I. I couldn't blame you at the time."
"There are different types of handsomeness," Penny said. "You were a cute boy, Chad." She sighed. "Oh m' God, I was such a stupid girl."
"Pardon my cliche," Chad said, "but it's all water under the bridge. He was a varsity football hero and an older fellow. I accepted it and got on with my life."
"He was a self-centered egotist," Penny said. "The fact he came from a wealthy family was the only thing that kept him from becoming a complete loser when his days of athletic glory came to an end."
"What happened to him?" Chad asked, not really giving a damn.
"His parents stuck him in a do-nothing job in the insurance company where his dad was the CEO. They completely dominated his life, and I knew that was what would happen to me. His mother actually began planning the wedding without allowing any input from my own mom or me. After three months of that, I broke the engagement."
"I guess you knew what was best:' Chad remarked.
"I went back to Boston to find you," she said. "I . . . I really wanted to see you, Chad. But I learned you'd joined the Navy and had become a SEAL. I was going to write you, but it occurred to me that you might not want me to."
Once more a surge of the old romantic feelings flooded into Chad's heart. The emotions were triggered by the revelation that she had come back to Boston to find him. It was as if he had taken a giant leap back in time. His mind and passions removed him from the present.
He stopped, then turned toward her. Penny looked at him expectantly. Chad took her in his arms and kissed her. This wasn't like the affectionate pecks he used to give; it was a full kiss with his arms tightening, drawing her closer. When he gently and reluctantly loosened the lip lock, she pressed her face into his chest. Chad noticed she was weeping.
"What's the matter, Penny?"
"I'm not a virgin," she sobbed. "Cliff was so insistent one night, and--"
Chad, whose first time had been in a Tijuana whorehouse, gently placed his hand under her chin and raised her face. He kissed her again. "Water under the bridge."
Then the hormones really kicked in.
Chapter 23
SEAL BIVOUAC
6 SEPTEMBER
BOREDOM and frustration weighed heavily on the Brigands. The rifle platoon from the 101st Airborne Division was taking care of overall security as well as maintaining defensive patrols around the area. The SEALs' watch bill shrunk to having only one man on duty at the CP except for Frank Gomez's commo watch. Unless an emergency situation flared up, the SEALs had nothing to do.
This was bad enough under normal circumstances, but Brannigan's Brigands had just come through that series of harrowing experiences that included the battle near the Wadi Khesta Valley when they were certain their deaths were imminent. Their subconscious minds still reeled from those incidents.
Bad episodes of flashbacks come out of such ordeals. Consequently, Brannigan knew the platoon had to be kept busy at vigorous, demanding tasks to challenge them both physically and mentally. He quickly established a ball-busting PT program that consisted of endless repetitions of calisthenics that left the men breathing hard and sweating profusely. They were given time to get a gulp or two of water, then the day's workout culminated in a fast-paced five-mile gallop complete with chants done in cadence. An activity like that could relieve stress better than any of James Bradley's pills.
After getting the men good and tired, the two chief petty officers conducted a series of classes on basic military subjects. It was not unlike preseason camp in the NFL, when the fundamentals were reviewed to keep old skills sharp and ready for the coming season's struggle on the gridiron.