Combat Alley (2007) (31 page)

A door to his direct front suddenly opened, letting in a flash of brilliant light. Aburrani blinked against the brilliance as the figure of a man entered the chamber. The stranger knelt down and spoke in a concerned tone. My dear Mr. Aburrani! I am so distressed to find you in this condition. I had no idea of your predicament until a short time ago.

Now another man came in, and Aburrani could make out he wore a camouflage-pattern uniform. He had a bundle of clothes of some sort that he thrust at the prisoner. Aburrani took them and held them close.

Please get dressed, the first stranger said. I must apologize that I cannot find your clothing, but I am sure it will be located eventually. He reached down and helped Aburrani to his feet.

Aburrani discovered he had been handed a pair of coveralls and some sort of slippers. As he dressed, he realized the stranger had been speaking to him in American English. It gave him a sense of well-being, as did the apologies he had just received. There is the explanation of this strangeness. A mistake! A colossal stupid mistake! They had obviously gotten the wrong man.

The clothing was much too large for him and it was difficult to walk in the slippers as he was gently led by the arm out into a corridor. The hallway was constructed of steel similar to the room he was taken from. He now fully realized it was a cell, and he was in a prison of some sort.

Where am I? Aburrani asked.

I am afraid I am not at liberty to reveal that to you at this time, the stranger said as they walked down the corridor to a far door.

The man who had brought the clothing hurried ahead and opened the steel portal to allow them to enter a small room with a staircase. He stayed behind as Aburrani and his escort ascended the steps to the floor above. It was similar to the lower portion of the building, with a series of cell doors along the length of the hallway. They went halfway down to a door and the stranger opened it. When Aburrani obediently stepped inside, he saw that it was a paneled room with a couple of padded leather chairs that appeared to be most comfortable. A small table holding a coffee machine, cups, and a bowl of pastries was off in one corner. All these amounted to very good signs indeed.

Another feature of the place of which he was totally unaware was a hidden microphone that led to a recorder in another room.

Sit down, Mr. Aburrani, the stranger said. My name is Mr. Leighton.

How do you do, Aburrani said, settling onto a chair.

Can I get you a cup of coffee? Leighton asked. And perhaps a roll.

Just a cup of coffee, thank you.

Leighton served them both, and then also sat down. After taking a sip of from his cup, he remarked, You are a surprise visitor here.

That unpleasant condition is mutual, Mr., er, Mr. Leighton, Aburrani said. And I would like to be returned to where I belong. That, sir, is my office in Kabul.

I hope that can eventually be done for you, Leighton said. However, I do have some rather specific instructions regarding your stay here.

Again, I ask you, where am I? Aburrani said, becoming angry. Leighton's remarks made it appear as if his capture was planned after all. I demand to know not only where I am, but the meaning behind the attack on me and the murder of my driver. What idiotic fool machinated that outrage?

You will learn all in due time, sir, Leighton said. One of the subjects I have been charged with discussing with you is your ties to the Taliban.

What an outright absurdity, sir! Aburrani exclaimed. And I resent it. I am in the employ of the government of Afghanistan.

Mmm, Leighton mused. You are not making a very good start, Mr. Aburrani. You see, we are well aware of your relationship with that particular terrorist organization, as well as your association with the smuggling of opium poppy gum out of Afghanistan to international criminals. May I suggest that you drop all pretenses and falsehoods and get down to the facts of the matter? It will save us both a lot of bother and unpleasantness that I am sure you wish to avoid as much as I.

I deny your preposterous allegations! Aburrani snapped.

I shall ignore that last statement and go to work, Leighton said. In truth, just about everything about Aburrani's past was already known and documented. The purpose of this interrogation was to confirm the intelligence known, as well as get some of the finer details of the Afghan's dealings. We will forget the Taliban for the time being. What I would like to discuss with you, for the moment, is your relationship with certain criminal elements in Tajikistan. Names, please.

Aburrani clammed up.

You are not going to get anywhere with this bad attitude, Mr. Aburrani, Leighton said. When I said I was distressed at finding you in your underwear in that cold cell, I was telling the truth. I thought it totally inappropriate for a man of your intellect and education. That is something that is reserved for those rough fellows that are dragged in from the battle areas. You are not a soldier, Mr. Aburrani. From your dossier, I would assume you do not even like soldiers very much.

Aburrani continued his silence.

Leighton got to his feet and went to the coffeepot. He poured himself another cup, then brought the container over and warmed up Aburrani's drink. After returning to his seat, he gave the prisoner a studied gaze. He took a long, slow breath, then said, I can guarantee you a good amount of creature comforts, sir. Decent food, acceptable accommodations, and courteous treatment from the prison staff. Are you aware of the alternatives?

Still Aburrani chose not to reply.

Leighton leaned back in his chair and began speaking slowly and methodically. Well, let us see... You will be stripped completely naked... A cold cell with a brilliant light permanently illuminating your miserable abode... surly and brutal guards... Awful food served irregularly and carelessly... A single bucket for urination and defecation that will be taken away and replaced only occasionally... not allowed to sleep... Remain standing at all times... vicious and long periods of questioning... encouragement to respond truthfully with beatings... electric cattle prods inserted into your rectum... the unpleasant prospects of

Which do you wish me to speak of first?

A brief history of your opium poppy deals would make an excellent start, Mr. Aburrani.

I began with a warlord by the name of Ayyub Durtami, Aburrani said in a low voice. I had accepted some bribes from foreign interests to make it easy for him to grow and harvest the opium plants. The arrangement was quite profitable.

You say you 'began' with this fellow, Leighton said. Was that relationship broken off?

Yes. Durtami was defeated during some activity in which some American Navy SEALs were supposed to bring out a defector from his compound. The man had been tortured to death before the Americans arrived and Durtami was foolish enough to try to keep them from leaving his domain.

I take it the SEALs got away.

More than that, Aburrani said. They wiped him out and sent him and his surviving people fleeing. I know this for a fact because I was present in the area at the time as a representative of the Afghan government. He wiped away the perspiration that had begun to form on his face. It is the truth. The name of the SEAL commander was Lieutenant Brannigan. William Brannigan.

Alright, Leighton said. Then what did you do?

Well, Durtami fled to the fiefdom of his brother-in-law, Hassan Khamami, who was an even stronger warlord, Aburrani continued. Khamami made an attempt to wipe out the SEALs, and almost did it. His face assumed an expression of remorse and regret. But he failed. However, I used my influence to keep Khamami from being completely destroyed and was able to protect his harvest after the Americans left. However, production was down.

So your profits fell, hey? Leighton remarked. What actions did you take?

I was able to make arrangements through the Iranian Embassy to send the gum and powder through their country to Turkey, Aburrani said. I had certain contacts in the Afghan Army to provide transportation. But He paused and sighed. Once again that officer Brannigan showed up and not only brought my operations to a halt, but evidently foiled Iranian strategic goals for creating a large mujahideen force. They were using their share of the money to that end.

Is that when you turned to the Taliban?

Yes, Aburrani admitted. They had been getting money from Saudi Arabia to rebuild after their setbacks. My problem was that the most efficient and productive opium harvesting was being done on the Pranistay Steppes by the warlord of the Yousafzai Tribe. He was a fellow named Awalmir. But he refused to deal with me because of the Taliban. He hates them for the mistreatment they inflicted on his people after the Soviets had been driven out of Afghanistan.

I see, Leighton said. And who did you turn to at that point?

The Russian crime syndicate in Tajikistan, Aburrani said. They are headquartered in the city of Khorugh near the Kangal Mountains.

And the headman's name?

Aleksander Akloschenko, Aburrani answered.

What did you want him to do for you?

To supervise the opium production on the Pranistay Steppes, Aburrani explained. He was to gain control over the tribes and buy the crops for sale. I was, in fact, acting as an agent for both him and the Taliban.

I see, Leighton said. And what was this Akloschenko's attitude toward the Taliban?

He had no objection that they were involved, he replied with a shrug. He would get his full cut.

As I understand it, the Russian crime boss was going to make deals with the Pashtuns without you being outwardly involved.

That is correct, Aburrani said.

What methods was he going to use to form agreements with the tribes?

Aburrani smiled slightly. Capitalism, sir. Pure and simple. He was going to offer them a price one and a half times greater than what Awalmir of the Yousafzai had been paying.

Did they go for it?

Unfortunately, not all, Aburrani said. We did not take into consideration the plethora of blood feuds among the tribes. He was only able to get agreements from four of the seven clans.

That's a majority, isn't it?

That was not good enough, Aburrani said. The Taliban insisted that all the Pashtun people be involved in the deal. It would increase their prestige and influence among the native peoples.

Where did that leave you?

I had to insist that Akloschenko use force against those who were less cooperative, Aburrani said.

Did he have enough men to do that?

There were some renegade ex-convicts from the Soviet Army living in the Kangal Mountains that looked down on the Pranistay Steppes, Aburrani said. They were led by a fellow named Yarkov, but Akloschenko did not care for him. He ran Yarkov off and replaced him with a former officer named Valentin Surov.

All very interesting, Mr. Aburrani, Leighton said. He almost chuckled as he wondered if Aburrani was aware that Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan and his Brigands were also out there on the Pranistay Steppes. He cleared his throat to maintain his composure. Ahem! What is the present situation regarding the Russians, the Pashtuns, and the poppy harvest?

The Russians are going to gather the Pashtuns who are on their side, Aburrani said. Then, as a group, they will attack the tribes who are holding out.

Leighton showed no emotion other than clenching his teeth. Really? And when is this supposed to happen?

Any day now, Aburrani answered. He held out his cup. May I have some more coffee, please?

Chapter 23

THE PRANISTAY STEPPES

2 DECEMBER

0430 HOURS

THE Russian people have been known for centuries as being the quintessential stoics of the human race. They have endured the relentless, killing cold of their winters since time immemorial, tolerated the cruelties of despotic governments for countless generations, borne unspeakable periods of famine, bent under the rapine and ravages of foreign invaders, gone through the privations of smothering poverty, and suffered through imprisonment in dreadful Siberian labor camps. All this without outward complaints or protests, yet every once in a while, this dispassion erupts into the violence of striking out blindly and furiously in brief spasms of senseless fury in direct contrast to their compliant nature. This can be either to strike back at oppressors, or to inflict bloody misery on some other poor schmucks.

Such was the latter case on this frigid early morning in the flatlands of northeast Afghanistan. Eighty of Logovishchyeh's population of ex-convict soldiers rode through the whipping winds under the leadership of Valentin Surov as they headed for a rendezvous with a half hundred mujahideen of the Pashtun Mahsud tribe.