The Maverick Experiment (6 page)

Monday, January 25
Kabul, Afghanistan
1636 Hrs

The team's vehicle rolled into the outskirts of Kabul.

“Listen up, guys. Drop me off at Massoud Circle. I'm gonna go on foot for a bit. You move ahead and keep eyes on. Our contact is not hostile.”

“So who is this guy, boss?” asked Carson.

“He is one of our sources. A guy named Shafi. I used to work with him. I trust him, and he has arranged somewhere for us to stay.”

The vehicle sped around the traffic circle and dumped Derek near a produce stand before continuing around. Randy stopped the Toyota and the men positioned themselves about fifty meters down the road.

Massoud Circle was one of many traffic circles in Kabul. This one in particular was a tribute to the Great Massoud, a legendary Northern Alliance fighter who united the Afghans in the fight against the Taliban but was later assassinated by two al-Qaeda operatives posing as journalists.

Derek navigated his way through the small but crowded bazaar. The smell was just as he remembered it. In the winter, Afghans burned tires and whatever else they could find to warm their homes. Firewood was a luxury, and not all people could afford enough to sustain their homes through the colder season. Needless to say, the aroma that filled the Kabul air was memorable, but not for a good reason.

Derek pulled a few Afghanis from his pocket and purchased some fruit from a young child running his father's stand. He hoped to buy some time as he waited for Shafi but knew if he didn't humor the kid with a purchase he would have a lot of attention on him real fast. Children in Afghanistan assumed a Western face meant you were rich and in Afghanistan for charity. The only way to shut them up was to pay them or buy what they were selling.

Derek was still dressed in man-jams, the American term for a
shawwal khamis
, but ultimately, his beard and garb would disguise the fact that he was Western only for mere seconds. He had appeased the kid, but his time was getting short. Although Westerners were becoming more common here, they still were always threatened, and being out and about for long durations was never wise. Fortunately, Derek had his team close by and Shafi was supposed to arrive any second.

A white Toyota Corolla pulled up and stopped in front of the fruit stand, giving a slight honk. Derek peered in the window and got in.

“Hello, sir.”

“Hey, Shafi.
Salaam alaikum. Chetor hasti?
”

“I am good, sir, thank you. Are you fine?”

“Yes, I am fine. Listen, thanks for meeting me. Let's get out of here.”

Derek reached to his throat piece.

“Alright, guys, we are rolling. I'll pass you in a second; just fall in behind.”

Shafi was a short but muscular man. Though he was only twenty-nine years old, he was balding, and his constant smile showed what years of poor dental care could do to an Afghan's mouth. Still, his street smarts and confidence were the characteristics Derek had grown to appreciate. Shafi would treat you as family—kill for you, if necessary. He was as loyal as they came.

“So, Shafi, where we headed?”

“To my home. Is that OK?”

“Sure. Have you made any progress in the house search?”

“Yes, sir. I found a good compound for you in Ud-Khail. But first we will eat at my home.”

Derek knew Ud-Khail was an area of Kabul known for police corruption and for being the home to many Taliban members and facilitators. “So, Ud-Khail, huh? Still a hot spot for Talibs?”

“Yes, sir,” said Shafi with a smile.

“Huh. So you wanted to throw us to wolves right away, did you?”

“No. This is a part of Ud-Khail which is not so bad. It is safe. I promise. I will stay with you. First we will eat, though. I made the omelets you used to like.”

“That will be good, buddy; that will be good.”

The two sped down Jalalabad Road toward Shafi's house as the other vehicle followed a good distance behind. Shafi lived in a village known as Arzan Qimat near Pol-e-Charkhi prison.

Jalalabad Road was one of the better-kept roads in town but was known for being hostile and had been the site of many IEDs and other incidents. Being in low-visibility vehicles would help Derek and his team, however. They would be safe and unlikely to encounter problems.

At least, Derek hoped so.

Monday, January 25
Arzan Qimat, Afghanistan
Shafi's Residence
1839 Hrs

The men sat cross-legged around several platters of food in Shafi's guesthouse. It was Afghan culture to sit on rugs on the floor and lean against pillows as they drank tea and conversed. Tonight, Shafi had prepared a feast for the men, and they sat laughing and drinking for hours. The meal had consisted of lamb and chicken kabobs, rice, some okra, and the omelets Shafi had referred to. Derek knew the omelets had eggs, onions, and spices, but he was not certain what else was included, nor was he sure he wanted to know.

“Hey, dude, is that you on Shafi's wall over there?” asked Carson.

“Sure is. Shafi and I go way back. We've done some things that we'll take to the grave.”

Shafi was a resource that neither the Afghan NDS nor the US government had ever fully tapped into. He was a forward-leaning, operationally trained officer who spoke several languages, including Dari, Pashto, Urdu, Bengali, Hindi, and some Arabic. He could blend in to several environments and act the part. Not to mention that he had contacts everywhere, it seemed. He was a gem, and Derek had always known it.

“Well, I won't ask about that; just don't ask me to get involved later tonight,” laughed Carson.

“Uh-huh. Funny, man. No, the truth is, Shafi was always willing to go out on a limb for me. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. Plus, he drinks. That's huge. I can't trust a man who doesn't drink.”

Most Afghans followed Islam very strictly, and as such, alcohol consumption was forbidden. Shafi, however, drank anything Derek gave him. It was a real treat for him, so they often took a break from work to partake in alcoholic beverages.

“So hey, bud, are we gonna see this place tonight, or are we staying here?”

“No. We will go after dessert to the compound. It is best we go at night.”

“Sounds good.”

The men snacked on locally made cookies and fresh fruit for their dessert, a pretty common postmeal spread. Derek had always been reticent to eat the skin of local fruits, fearing he would get sick, but the fruit itself was delicious.

Monday, January 25
Kabul, Afghanistan
Kabul Safe House
2308 Hrs

The men dimmed their lights as they pulled down the alley-way and up to the compound gate. Shafi flashed his lights, and seconds later a man appeared to open the gates. The team drove in as the guard closed the gates behind them.

“This isn't bad, Shafi,” said Derek. “Good work.” He patted Shafi on the shoulder.

“I tried, sir. It has everything you asked for: plenty of rooms, a kitchen, some space for a gym, and a basement.”

“Who are our neighbors?”

Shafi shrugged and grinned as he always did.

“No, Shafi, this is important. Who are our neighbors?”

“You will be fine here, sir.”

“OK,” replied Derek.

Based on the many situations they had gotten into and out of together, Shafi was one of the few people Derek trusted as much as his team.

“How about the guards? You know them?”

“Yes, sir. They are family friends.”

“I knew being friends with you would pay off one day, buddy,” laughed Derek. “Alright then, let's get a tour.”

After a brief tour of the compound, Derek and his men were satisfied and settled in for the night.

Derek's room was quite large but barren. A large area rug covered the floor, and two cotlike beds were in separate
corners. The conditions were not ideal, but Derek had stayed in far worse. And over time, he knew, he and the men would have the ability to furnish the compound however they saw fit.

Tuesday, January 26
Kabul, Afghanistan
Safe House
0100 Hrs (1630 Hrs DC)

Derek jumped up and looked at his watch as his encrypted satellite phone buzzed on the floor next to him.

“Are you serious?” Derek muttered to himself. “Hello?”

It was Carlisle.

“Derek. I assume you have reached your destination and are settled in?”

“That would be correct, sir. We just went to sleep a little bit ago. We arrived, met the package, and are in safe and sound for the night.”

“Good. That's very good.”

“Sir, with all due respect, it's one
A.M
. here. Can we catch up in the morning?”

“Well, Derek, we need you guys to start in on something tomorrow. There is a gentleman in town that is causing quite the stir back here. He is a political nightmare for our folks, but that shouldn't be a concern for you.”

Derek sat up, knowing this wasn't going to be brief. “OK, wait one minute, sir.”

“Of course.”

Derek reached for a pad of paper and pen. “OK, ready to copy.”

“The gentleman's name is Agha Jan. He is a parliamentarian who is deeply involved with the Miram Shah Council and has been directly involved with several attacks in Kabul.”

Derek knew the Taliban utilized three major Shura Councils in Pakistan to drive operations in Afghanistan: the Miram Shah Council, which was directed by Malawi Rafiq; the Peshawar Council; and the Quetta Shura Council.

Carlisle continued, “The problem is, President Naser has arranged some under-the-table deal with Jan for votes, and he has since become untouchable by the Afghans or station.”

“Why don't we do something about him? Has he attacked Coalition forces at all?”

“Yes, but it doesn't matter. You know Washington. If it could stir up a bad news story, then we won't go anywhere near it. Again, you can.”

“OK, continue.”

“Agha Jan is promising Naser a large volume of Pashtun votes that he would otherwise not get. In return, Naser has promised him he will receive no problems from the Afghan government and has formally requested that station and the US military not action him as a target.”

“Of course, makes sense. He kills Americans and we let it slide because we are such pussies we can't say ‘no’ to the Afghan president—a guy we put in power, for God's sake. OK, so what is our objective?”

“It's simple: We want him out of the picture. Determine his location and make sure it looks good. This will be your first assignment.”

“What's our time frame?”

“That's up to you and your team. The elections are not for several months, but our primary concern is his continued coordination with Pakistan and continued desire to kill American forces. We think he has connections to Malawi Rafiq in Pakistan, but that's another story and another mission.”

“Understood. I will brief the team first thing in the morning. Anything else I need to be aware of?”

“No, that will be all for now.”

“Roger. Will be in contact shortly.”

Derek hung up the phone and shook his head. “Here we go,” he mumbled as he turned over and fell back asleep.

Tuesday, January 26
Kabul, Afghanistan
Safe House
0800 Hrs

Randy stumbled out of bed and shook Miller awake.

“What?”

“Get up, brother, it's time to get started.”

“Get started with what?” Miller rolled back over.

“I don't know; just get up. Let's go get some coffee.”

Carson, who was on the other side of the room, rolled over and yelled, “Dude, what the hell are you bitches yapping about? Go back to sleep.”

“Randy is trying to get us up for some reason.”

“Well, we are here for a reason. Let's get some coffee and figure out what the hell our objective is,” said Randy as he exited the room and walked out into the central courtyard.

On the opposite side of the open space, Derek sat drinking coffee with Shafi.

Shafi looked up and smiled at Randy as he approached the table.

“Morning sunshine. You guys sleep?” asked Derek.

“Yeah. Not too bad. You?”

“Not really. Fucking Carlisle called me at one
A.M.
”

“Really? Mission?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. So much for getting over jet lag, huh?”

“Seriously. I was just getting a dump from Shafi on this dude, Agha Jan.”

Randy snorted and ran his hand through his ruffled hair as he sat. “Who is he?”

“He is a corrupt parliamentarian who has cut some drug deal with Naser but is responsible for all kinds of shit here in Kabul. And station, of course, won't do a damn thing about him.”

“The drug deal?”

Derek nodded and confirmed, “The drug deal.”

“So what is the objective?”

“Make sure the next time he comes up in conversation, it's because he's dead.”

“Great. I'll get the boys.”

“Well, no rush; let them chill. We won't be going before tonight. I want to wait and make sure he's home. We can rest and brief up later on the plan. Shouldn't be too hard. Everyone knows where this guy is; they just don't have the balls to go near him. I may want to do a drive-by in a bit here to just get eyes on the place. Maybe you, Shafi, and I can head out before lunch.”

“Sounds good.”

Tuesday, January 26
Kabul, Afghanistan
Safe House
1030 Hrs

Carson leaned back in his chair and yawned. “So how long are you guys going to be?”

“Not long, man,” Derek said. “I just want to get a visual on this place and we will be back. Grimes, just stay by the radio in case we need you guys. Carson, you are going to have to wake up if we need you as a quick reaction force.”

“Nah, I'm up, dude; QRF is no problem. We'll be here playing cards, waiting for you to get back. Maybe I can get some of Miller's money, since Randy kicked my ass.”

“Doubt that, man. Alright, see you in a bit.”

Derek and Randy climbed into Shafi's Corolla and waved to the guards to open the gate.

Shafi had informed Derek that Agha Jan lived in the Kote Sangi part of town. Kote Sangi had become increasingly populated by bad guys before Derek had left Kabul the last time. It was along a road that led into the Kampanai area of Kabul and ultimately to Maidan-Wardak Province, another increasingly violent area in Afghanistan.

It took the men approximately twenty-five minutes to navigate through Kabul traffic and reach Kote Sangi. Kabul roads were often congested from a lack of driving laws and poorly trained traffic officers. The operative rule for Afghan driving was chaos.

“OK, Shafi, where is this guy's place?”

“It's close, sir. We will pass his house in a minute.”

Seconds later, Shafi pointed out the home as the car sped by. “The green door,” said Shafi. Derek caught a quick glance and then redirected his attention forward.

Agha Jan's place was much like any standard middle-class Afghan compound, at least from the exterior. There was a set of large steel double doors, which acted as the gate for vehicles. Inside were likely a guesthouse, a nice courtyard, and living quarters for the family.

“OK, Shafi, good enough. Let's pick up some lunch and head on home. It's going to be a busy night.”

“What do you want, sir? I can make you lunch.”

Afghans were known for their hospitality, but Derek wasn't about to have Shafi cook for him two days in a row. “No way, dude, we are buying you food today. Pull over somewhere and get a bunch of rice and meat, and we will treat you, no arguments. Get whatever you want.” Derek threw a stack of Afghanis on Shaf's lap.

“Hey, Shafi, see if you can get some mantoo as well,” said Randy. Mantoo was a local food much like an Asian dumpling, filled with minced meat and spices.

After a brief argument over using their money, Shafi conceded and pointed to a restaurant on the side of the road. “Here. This is a good place.”

Randy pulled over, and Shafi hopped out. Moments later, he returned with bags of food, and the men were on their way back to the compound.

Tuesday, January 26
Kabul, Afghanistan
Safe House
1237 Hrs

The men lay around the courtyard, letting their food digest. The meal had been just what the doctor ordered. Unlike many Westerners, Derek enjoyed Afghan food and had missed it in his absence. Digesting it, however, was often a long process because rice and bread always sat heavy in the stomach.

Derek watched as Carson emerged from the
tashnab
, the Afghan term for bathroom. “Alright, what's the deal with tonight? What time we going to make this shit happen?” said Carson.

“Yeah, are we sure we want to do this tonight?” asked Grimes. “Maybe we should plan this out more and get some more guidance from back in the rear.”

“Dude, all you need is more stuff in the rear; let's stay focused on the mission,” joked Carson.

“Yeah, let's just stay focused on the mission. What Grimes and I do at night is our own business,” laughed Randy.

Derek shook his head as all the men laughed. As usual, the combat zone was bringing out a unique type of humor and camaraderie among the men. Derek gathered his thoughts for a few seconds. “No. We go tonight. We aren't going to have guidance on everything; that's why we are here. We get a call with an objective, and we make it happen. There is no calling back to Mom before, or after, for that matter. If Jan is there tonight, we strike tonight. We all know what we are doing operationally, and we will game plan this out and make it work. No sense in dragging it out.”

“You're the boss.”

“It's not that, Grimes. I just think we are going to have some more important stuff coming up that will require us to make some calls back Stateside, and I don't want to set that as an easy precedent. If anyone needs a nap or anything, get it now; otherwise, just relax for a bit. I am going to make sure Shafi can get some of his people to begin casing the place now and ensure we have a positive ID of this guy in his house before we roll on him. Sound good?”

The men nodded.

“Randy, come with me. I want you to help me get Shafi organized.”