Authors: Anthony Tata
So, Rahman looked at the computer, the flash drive still plugged into the USB port on the side, and scrolled through the images contained in a PowerPoint briefing. The first slide was phase zero, which included marshalling activities at Bagram Air Base north of Kabul. Rahman’s sentries, which included two laundry workers on the base, confirmed that a large group of helicopters had been loaded the evening of the attack, taken off, and then returned to base sometime early that morning, after the fight at what the Americans appeared to be calling Objective 1422. The height of the mountain peak was 14,022 feet, and he assumed the Americans had shortened the number for convenience. This mountain also dominated the valley where the Thorium was located, so Rahman instantly understood the connection between the mineral locations and the invasion plan. If the Americans did not control the high ground in Pakistan, the Thorium mines would be vulnerable.
The second slide included the two-helicopter raid on Objective 1422, which was then going to serve as the pivot point for withdrawal operations up and down the valley to the east. The third slide showed significant helicopter movement of U.S. troops to Bagram. The fourth slide showed the Afghan National Army and Police moving into some of the abandoned bases.
Given the name of the operation, Rahman supposed that the Americans were going to retreat all of the way back to America.
Rahman’s chest pumped up. He and his men had not only thwarted the raid and driven the Americans from the Korengal, but they also may have precipitated the full American withdrawal from Afghanistan. The new American president had agreed to a timeline and it appeared that even he was ahead of that timeline. For a long time Rahman’s main fear had been whether the Americans would put fighters on the ground in Pakistan and attack them in their sanctuary. Indeed, he knew that his monthly stipends to the Pakistan Army officers in the region had secured his relative safety from the Pakistan military.
A plan came to mind. He could reinforce his efforts at capturing the Thorium mines and focus on attacking the Americans as they departed. He would push his chips all in.
Rahman’s concentration was broken when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, activating his screen saver.
With Habib in Naray leading the miners, Aswan, a diminutive boyish Egyptian, poked his head around the door, and said, “Mullah Rahman, one of the messengers has returned.”
“
One?”
“
I’m told we lost brother Kamil on the return trip.”
Instantly suspicious, Rahman said, “Bring in Mansur.”
Rahman retrieved his six-inch knife from his tactical vest that was hanging on a nail next to the map.
Aswan escorted Mansur into the dimly lit room and Rhaman’s suspicions diminished, though they did not completely evaporate.
“
What happened?” Rahman asked once Mansur stood upright. His face was bloodied, his hair matted with dried blood, and his arms raked with cuts, indicating defensive wounds. He was leaning on a tree branch, which he had fashioned as a crutch.
“
Karachi. The truck driver took us to a warehouse where we were beaten. I escaped. Kamil was with me, but was shot.”
“
The money?” Rahman asked.
“
As usual, we each carried half. Aswan has my $500,000.”
“
It should be a million,” Rahman said, looking at Aswan, who extended the leather pouch full of money to his boss. Rahman snatched the purse and rifled through the stacks of bills.
“
Dubai only gave us a million. They said the next million would be coming. They only had one million in cash on hand.”
Rahman prided himself in controlling his emotions, but he was about to lose his temper. He turned and paced, then stopped, staring at the map. Five hundred thousand dollars would not pay for much of his retirement, especially after he paid sufficient bills to create the illusion that he was still in command. But with the new information on the flash drive, he could get the money he sought, if not from Dubai, then elsewhere, he was certain.
“
Aswan, tell the guards to bring me Kamil’s family.”
Mansur immediately spoke, his words raspy with fear.
“
Mullah Rahman I speak the truth. Please do not harm them.”
“
We have a deal. If the money or the messenger does not return, the family dies. It is well known. You both have been well compensated. So, your time for sacrifice has come.”
“
I beg you, please. We did our best.”
Aswan disappeared and returned within minutes.
“
The guards are bringing the family now.”
Rahman turned toward Mansur and said, “Lock him up and kill the family.”
“
No!” Mansur screamed.
“
Your family will be next if I hear another word from you, Mansur. I’m going to check out your story and then make my decision on your fate.”
Rahman nodded at Aswan, who ushered Mansur from the house.
Rahman sat back at his computer, typed in the password to deactivate the screen saver, and then logged onto his satellite Internet service for the first time since they shot down the helicopters.
Which was when the flash drive finally began to do what it had been programmed for.
Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan
Monday
Matt Garrett sat in a metal chair inside Major General Jack Rampert’s office at the south end of Bagram Airfield. Rampert had four maps on display, one on each wall. There was a world map behind his desk. To Matt’s left was a map covering the Central Command area of operations from the Horn of Africa across the Arabian Peninsula to Pakistan. To Matt’s right was a map of Afghanistan and Pakistan, and behind him was the big blow up of Afghanistan.
“
We heard anything yet?” Matt asked.
Rampert shook his head, stood from his squeaky chair, and walked to the map on Matt’s right, the Afghanistan-Pakistan relief.
“
We raided right there,” Rampert said, pointing at a dashed line on the map where the latest survey placed the actual border between the two countries, though on the ground it would be impossible to determine without a GPS. “And we’re expecting something to pop up right there.”
Matt stood and walked to the map and looked at Rampert’s cracked, dry fingernail slightly to the right, or east, of the border and near a town called Chitral.
“
Your guys approved this plan, Matt,” Rampert said, warily.
“
Don’t get defensive, General. It doesn’t suit you.”
Standing next to Rampert, Matt was conflicted. Four years ago Rampert had pulled Zach off the battlefield in the Philippines and saved his life. Two years ago he had sent Zach into Canada on a suicide mission to kill or capture former Iraqi general Jacques Ballantine. Now, it appeared that Rampert had given Zach another high-risk mission, as if his brother was entirely expendable. But then again, weren’t they all?
“
Not defensive,” Rampert said. “Just making sure you understand what’s going on here.”
“
And what is going on?”
Rampert squared up to Matt. The two men were close in height, though Matt edged the general by an inch or two. The general’s army combat uniform hung snugly on his fit frame. Matt looked powerful in his cargo pants and Under Armor shirt.
“
We may never hear anything or the world could light up for us. You know the mission was a risk. We’ve got a bead, but our man’s not communicating so far.”
“
I didn’t know Zach was delivering the goods, General, so let’s get off that point.”
Matt worked his jaw a bit, clenching, unclenching, like he used to do as a college shortstop, watching the pitcher release the ball, expecting, hoping that the batter would drill a hard grounder to his side of the field.
The general’s door opened and Van Dreeves stuck his head inside saying, “Sir, you gotta see this shit.”
Matt looked at Van Dreeves’ shaggy blonde head disappearing behind the door then back at Rampert.
“
Let’s hope the world is lighting up.”
The two men moved quickly to Van Dreeves’ technical center where he had two powerful computers and a server with a satellite shot to the National Security Agency’s top secret Carnivore bird.
Matt stared over Van Dreeves’ shoulder.
“
It worked.”
On the computer screen there was a flashing green light transposed on the map, which was displaying the Chitral and Northwest Frontier Province terrain of Pakistan.
“
Son of a bitch,” Rampert muttered.
“
If Zach’s alive, that’s where he is,” Matt said.
“
If,” Rampert reiterated.
Matt stared at Rampert, suppressing the comeback.
“
Here’s the deal,” Van Dreeves said. “The flash drive put the Trojan onto the computer and it’s been a few days now, so this is the first time this guy has gone onto the net. He’s communicating with two people via a private message board that holds the message until the recipient has read it. Then it disappears.”
“
How can we see it?” Rampert asked.
“
NSA built a screen shot program into the Trojan. Once a communication goes out, the software does a screen shot of the message whether it’s a chat or an email or a webpage and stores it for us,” Van Dreeves explained.
“
So what’s it saying?” Matt said.
“
Mullah Rahman, our number three high value target for Al Qaeda is selling the plan for $5 million.”
“
Who’s he talking to?”
“
For the withdrawal plan, he’s talking to someone in Dubai and someone in Yemen. For the Thorium, he’s only communicating with Yemen. Tells me that Dubai is finance and Yemen is operations. We’re working the back trails on those messages. These guys are pretty computer savvy, which is why I’m surprised Rahman put the flash drive in his computer. This is pretty basic.”
“
Maybe to someone like you, VD,” Matt said. “But you find some intel on the battlefield like that, it’s hard to resist.”
“
So what are we thinking?” Rampert asked, looking at Matt.
Matt considered the general for a moment and said, “You’re not yourself, sir. Normally you’d just tell me what the hell we’re doing.”
Rampert smiled. “I’m seeing if you agree with me.”
“
We let Rahman work the computer. Make the two recipients. I agree with VD, one has to be a chief financier, the other a chief operative, if not
the
chief operative. Meanwhile, we go find Zach,” Matt said.
“
Great minds think alike. VD get a predator watching that area best you can. Let’s see what we’ve got,” Rampert ordered.
Matt nodded, walked out of the command center, and found his bunk. He laid his Sig Sauer on the bed, stripped it, cleaned and oiled it, and put it back together. Then he ran his knife against a whetstone a few times and speed loaded his magazines. Then he disassembled his pistol, cleaned it, oiled, and reassembled it.
All the while he was thinking Zach had to be alive. Everyone else doubted it, save Eversoll, but he knew it. He retrieved Zach’s wallet with Amanda’s photo and the Saint Michael medal. Turning it in his hands, he considered Zach’s two great loves, his daughter and his mission. Maybe throw Riley Dwyer in there, too, he wasn’t sure. His brother had risked his life and half of his team had been killed delivering the smallest payload ever to Al Qaeda, a two ounce thumb drive full of information. Those two ounces could ultimately do more damage than a 500-pound bomb. Way more damage.
Would it be worth the death of all the great men who were killed in the helicopter shoot down? That was a hard call to make. Matt knew that he would trade places with any of those men to have been on that sensitive and strategic mission. And he also knew that those men knew that any mission, especially this one, could result in their final trip home in a flag draped coffin.
Was it worth the death of his brother?
Matt decided that was a rhetorical question, because in his gut he knew Zach was not dead.
And he also knew that he had not told General Rampert the entire plan.
Spartanburg, SOUTH CAROLINA
Sunday Evening (Eastern Time Zone)
Melanie Garrett nosed her Mercedes into the garage, stopping just in front of the riding lawn mower. Walking into the kitchen through the connecting door from the garage, she punched the dimly lit button to lower the garage door.
She hooked her car keys on a wooden plaque shaped like a lighthouse and dropped her purse on the barstool near the kitchen island. Retrieving her cell phone, she listened to the message again.
“
Hey, Mom, it’s me. Guess you figured out I was in North Carolina. Sorry about not telling you, but it’s something I have to do to get the money, so I figured it was okay. Better to beg forgiveness, right? I’m doing it for us, though, so don’t worry. I texted you all of this but just in case you are techno illiterate still, Bree picked me up from the airport and I’ve just needed some time to myself so have been hanging at her place this weekend. Love, Amanda.”