The Sixth Martyr, page 8
part #1 of Alpha Squad Series
“Except we’re not going to Mazari Sharif.”
“Excuse me?” They were all staring at him.
“I said we’re not going to Mazari Sharif.”
Murphy peered down from the cupola. “What’s this all about, Boss?”
“It’s simple. They want more evidence of that enemy force outside Chiras; we’ll get it for them. Otherwise, our guys are walking into big trouble.”
They looked at each other in surprise, but before any of them could say anything, a man emerged from behind the vehicle. The UNHCR bleeding heart liberal, Ben Katz, along with his buddy Frank Steadman. Katz gave them a sickly grin.
“We’re heading to Mazari Sharif, too, but not for a few days. I’d like to have teamed up with someone going in the same direction, just in case we meet up with hostile elements.”
Hammett stared at him, disliking the man intensely. “Uh, huh.”
His stare was greasy. “But you’re not going to Mazari Sharif, are you?”
“Who says we’re not?”
“You do. We heard you just now talking about it.”
We were speaking softly between ourselves. If they overheard, it’s because they were listening in. Sneaky bastards.
“Our orders are to go to Mazari Sharif.”
Steadman had a sneer pasted on his face. “You’re wasting your time. We heard you talking, something about checking out an area outside of Chiras. That’s in the wrong direction.”
“I don’t give a shit what you heard, and I don’t give a shit about the UN. You want to travel to Mazari Sharif, you’re on your own.” Hammett murmured, his voice low, “When we travel, we go alone.”
“Now look,” Katz snarled, “We’re an accredited United Nations mission, and our work…”
“Fuck the United Nations. I told you, the answer is no. Now get out of here. We’re busy.”
“But…”
“Git.”
They went, and he looked at the other three men. “I don’t like the idea of them knowing our business. I don’t trust either of those bastards.”
Diaz shrugged. “Ain’t nothing we can do about it now. Besides, you know the satellite navigation on these Humvees is unreliable. It messes with the routes all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me if I feed in Mazari Sharif, and the damn thing takes us somewhere else entirely. Like in the direction of Chiras.”
Hammett grinned. “I know what you mean, Julio. Shit happens.”
But I’m still worried about Katz. What could he do? Report to General Pike? It won’t do him any good. We work for CIA. We’re civilian contractors, not military. No, Katz won’t be a problem. But I’d sure like to kick his ass.
Chapter Five
Uncle Nasrat carried Javed outside, lifted him up to the saddle, and sat behind him. They mounted the horses and set off along the track that wound into the hills. At the marker, the three stones, the boy signaled for them to stop. Nasrat helped him down, and he walked along the left path. The route the Talib had taken when he ran to his death.
“The mine has already exploded,” Tyler explained to Javed, “We won’t find anything.”
He frowned. “Is that so? Why don’t we see?”
They walked ten yards, and he gestured for them to stop. The boy knelt on the ground and pointed to a tiny irregularity in the hard ground.
“That is an anti-personnel mine. You can see how dust and rubble has covered it since they planted it a long time ago, but the impression is unmistakable.”
Tyler knelt beside him and whistled. “I see it up close, yeah. The guy who blew himself up got past this one. It happened a few yards further along. I’ll go take a look.”
He straightened and started walking.
“Stop!”
Javed was waving at him. “You are about to step on another mine, Mr. Tyler. Look down, and you will see it.”
He looked, and he still didn’t see it. “Where?”
“Just in front of your right foot.”
Still nothing. “How can you see it?”
“By the way the dust has settled. There’s an uneven pattern, slowly built up over time. It covers the object, leaving nothing but a smooth surface, and a very faint pattern.”
He saw it then and stepped back. “Uh, okay, I got it. What now?”
“I will disarm it.”
“You’re not serious?”
His grin was impish. “I have disarmed many such mines. How else could I graze my family’s goats?”
They boy knelt next to the mine, delved around the faint outline with his fingers, and pulled aside earth and debris. A few minutes later, he exposed a dark-green painted object, shaped like a small gas canister, and he pulled it from the ground.
“I know this one. It’s an OZM-3, Soviet made anti-personnel mine. They are many different types, but this one is very common. I’ve dug up hundreds of them.”
“Is it armed?” Sarah called to him in alarm.
“It is armed.”
He began to work on the metal post that protruded from the body and pulled the casing away from the mine. Javed tossed the cap away and unscrewed the base plate.
“Sometimes they have anti-handling devices to prevent tampering, but this one doesn’t.” He pulled out the main charge and discarded it. Finally, he showed them the exposed mechanism of the mine, “It is now harmless, but if you find any more of these things, you need to take great care. They are very dangerous.”
“I’ll bet.” Joe realized he’d been holding his breath. The boy had handled the booby trap like it was a kid’s construction set, not a lethal killing device, “How far apart are they planted?”
A shrug. “Who knows? Perhaps every ten meters, or every hundred meters, or even more.”
They’d never get through in time, not at such a slow pace. Not if they were to save Maryam. He looked at Sarah, and she understood. They’d have to find another way.
He looked back at the boy. “We need to get back. Javed, you’ll stay at the ranch, and we’ll find another route.”
“There is no other route.”
He swapped a glance with Sarah and looked back at the boy. “We’ll find one.”
“There isn’t time. If we are to save Maryam, we must be quick. Or my sister will die.”
“You have something in mind?”
A thin smile; “I will have to come with you, all the way. It is very dangerous, some would say impossible, but I have done it. Only someone who knows it well can get through.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Nasrat Amiri, the girl’s uncle, had spoken, “If it must be this way, so be it. I will help Javed ride the horse. I am familiar with this terrain, so it will not be a problem for me. We cannot just let her die.”
They stared at each other, and no one spoke. Tyler looked up as a pair of fighter jets zoomed across the sky. For one moment, he thought they were about to start their attack run on the Taliban camped a few kilometers away, but they banked over on one wing and zoomed away to the east. He wondered why there’d been no bombing just yet, but dismissed the thought. The military could move slowly at times, and he had no doubt they were actively planning the raid.
His mind went back to Javed. The boy had a point. They had no other way to save the girl.
I made a promise, and I’ll do everything possible to keep it. But God help us all. A widow, and a sick young boy with his uncle, what have I let myself in for?
“Okay, we’ll do it. Nasrat, can you fire a gun?”
“I am an Afghan.”
“Right.” He handed him the spare M4A1 he’d strapped to the saddle and two spare mags.
“I should have brought my gun,” Javed grumbled, “How can I go into battle unarmed?”
“You’re not going into battle. You’ll show us the path, and when we reach the outskirts of the town, you stay with Nasrat and Sarah while I look around. Okay, kid, show us the way.”
Javed took the lead, watching the track carefully from his uncle’s saddle. Progress was slow. Twice they detoured to avoid clumps of mines, and twice Tyler got off the horse to reposition marker stones. They had to help Javed off the horse to deal with a third mine. Tyler watched him disarm it and pull it from the ground, marveling at the way the young boy had mastered the knack, without equipment, training, or protective gear.
The track narrowed even more, and the going became harder. They were climbing the side of a steep hill or a mountain; he couldn’t swear which was which. The path was barely wide enough to allow the passage of a single person, although the hard ground did mean burying land mines would have been impossible.
He called to Javed. “This doesn’t look too bad now. It’s difficult, but wide enough to allow us to pass, and I can’t see any mines. Maybe you should go back.”
“This is the easy part, Mr. Tyler. Wait for the hard part.”
Damn, if this is easy, how hard does it get?
Five hundred meters further on they came to the hard part. The track was narrower, cut into the side of the hill, and the rock so soft the path had gradually eroded and crumbled away. It became even narrower, and they dismounted. Nasrat helped Javed, and Tyler took the lead with the horses tied nose to tail. Thor whinnied, his big eyes rolling when he saw the sheer, two hundred-meter drop that awaited an unwary tread. Joe took off his shirt and wrapped it around the horse’s head to blindfold him. They went on, inching their way over the loose scree. The path petered out, and they couldn’t go any further. Yet when he looked back at the way they’d come, going back looked equally impossible. Horses were notoriously difficult going into reverse. The path had crumbled a span of five meters, and all that remained was a narrow shelf, barely eighteen inches wide. Impossible to cross, yet if they were to save the girl, they had to make it possible. He looked back.
“Javed, are you sure this is right? I’m not certain we can get the horses across this part.”
“This is the correct way, Mr. Tyler. If you look to your right, you will see a narrow channel cut into the rock about a meter above the path. You can use it as a handhold.
Thanks a lot. Jesus, a handhold, what about the horses?
Sarah squeezed past Nasrat, and she went to help Tyler with Thor. Using soothing words, she led the frightened animal slowly forward. One step at a time, testing the rock shelf they were balanced on, moving forward, whispering to the horse, calming and reassuring him. She reached safer ground, where the path was cut deeper into the rock face, and led the two horses to safety. She grinned at him. “We did it. Hold them, Joe, and I’ll go back to help Nasrat.”
“Sure.”
He studied the route they’d just taken and looked up. He froze. They were on the crest, hostiles, about one hundred meters above them. All they needed was to look down, or hear something out of place, and they’d be screwed. He waved to Sarah and pointed upward, putting his finger to his lips. She looked up, saw them, and nodded. They had a single move left. Which wasn’t to move at all. Not a muscle. All they could do was wait.
He crouched down on the rock. With nothing else to do, his thoughts went to the encounter with Ben Katz. The bastard had threatened to screw him when he first met up with him in Afghanistan. The second time around, on the way from Bande Pitaw to Chiras, he’d made it clear the enmity still stood. Which meant he was unlikely to make the effort to call, even if he did manage to locate Maryam. There was something else eating him.
Did he tip off the Taliban about our whereabouts outside Chiras? Probably. Who else could have done it? Who else knew we were there? It looks like the bastard’s determined to continue the supposed feud, no matter it could cost a girl’s life.
He glanced up when he heard shots. The men above were firing their rifles, but not a hostile act. They were laughing to each other, and Tyler saw their targets in the distance, huge vultures, two of them circling high above in the sky. The bullets all missed. They switched to automatic fire, and the shouts grew even louder. After a few minutes, the vultures grew tired of being targets and flew away, unscathed and unmoved by the attempt to kill them. A few groans from above followed them, and then silence returned. He kept watching, waiting for a face to look down to announce they were spotted. Minutes later, they disappeared. They’d gone.
Gone where? Gone to make coffee, to cook a meal? To pray to the all-seeing God of butchery, or have they left?
They couldn’t move until they knew for sure, and he settled down to wait. An hour went past, and still no noise. He had to call it either way, and he waved to Sarah, who was watching him.
“They’ve gone. Bring them across.”
“You’re sure.”
“If I’m wrong, this mission will come to a sudden end.”
“Understood. We’re coming over now.”
He watched her lead the horses over, and Nasrat helped Javed across, clinging to the rocky ledge. Sarah reached the wider ground and stood next to him, and they helped Nasrat carry Javed across the last few meters. They were all in after the nail-biting crossing, and he made them take a rest, knowing they’d need every ounce of their strength when they reached their destination. They’d need more than their strength. If the Gods of good luck were around, they should pray they’d give them a break. Just a small break would help. Otherwise they were as good as dead.
Javed had recovered a little, and his eyes were brighter. He put it down to the rest. When they set out, he took the lead again, mounted in front of Nasrat, with his eyes glued to the ground, watching for signs of landmines. Sarah was right behind him, watching her patient anxiously. Tyler brought up the rear, and he had another concern, for a more visible enemy, the men they’d seen earlier, and he constantly searched for any hint of movement. He saw nothing, just empty, open spaces, and a couple of vultures. Maybe the same ones, decided to return now the trigger-happy Islamists had gone away. Apart from three detours to avoid mines, they made good time. Two hours later, they were outside of Chiras, halfway down the final hill that led into the town. Looking down from the west.
He took out his binoculars, and almost immediately saw something that made his blood run cold. A crowd of people was filling the open square in the center of the town, and they were watching a man. He wore a brown robe, a long beard, and a black turban. He was haranguing six people young people, and each of them wore a bulky canvas vest. Pockets were sewn around it, and wires protruded. Suicide vests, bomb vests, and one youngster was slighter than the others. A girl. A taller, older boy stood next to her, as if he was guarding her. Wordlessly, he passed the glasses to Javed, who looked through them and choked.
“It is Maryam. And that is Akram beside her. He used to be my best friend.”
“Not any more, huh?”
His voice was bitter. “No. We have to save her.”
“Yeah.”
We should save her, but how? What do I have here, a boy, his civilian uncle, and Sarah? Three horses, and a few rifles. It’s not enough. I need a fucking army to take on that lot down there.
“We must go down there now.” Javed hissed, “I cannot leave her like that.”
“We wait until nightfall, and then I’ll go down and look around.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You’re staying here. Get your strength back. You’ll need it all later. If the shit hits the fan, we may have to fight our way out.”
They waited and ate some of their rations. In the late afternoon, they were lying on the hillside, keeping out of sight and watching the town with binoculars. So far there’d been no further sign of Maryam or the other martyrs. Tyler was staring at the mosque and a long, low building connected to it. He hadn’t seen anyone go in or out, and he suspected the doorway would be inside the mosque. The madrassa, the first place to check. He looked around as he heard Javed jerk in surprise.
“What is it?”
“Movement, there’s someone coming out of the town. Walking in our direction.”
He grabbed for the M4 and stopped as Javed chuckled. “We won’t need to shoot her.”
“Her?”
“Her name is Fatima. She’s is a good friend of mine. Was a good friend of mine,” he finished lamely.
Something in his voice made Tyler stare at him. “You liked her a lot, yes?”
“Yes, we were close, but it wasn’t just me. There was someone else. Akram. Perhaps that is what made him change. He forced her to choose, and she said she would prefer to be with me. That was just before the Mullah made the announcement about the martyrs.” He nodded thoughtfully, “Akram, yes, he changed suddenly. I will go down there and see her.”
“No, it’s too…”
Too late, he was sprinting down the hill, and Tyler went after him. He caught up halfway. The boy was slow, still weak after his bout of illness. The girl had seen him, and she was running toward him. When she got close, he could see why Javed had competition for her affections. A slight, pretty girl, and within the limits of the Islamic dress code, she looked almost glamorous. Her robe cut that bit better than most, and made from a finer fabric. Headscarf in a patterned silk, pulled back almost off her head, so it covered little of her glossy hair. A face unmarked or scarred by illness, and she was smiling at Javed, displaying even, white teeth. A true rose amongst the thorns of Afghanistan.
She reached him and shyly stood in front of him with her head bowed. She spoke a few words in Pashtu, and Javed replied. She nodded and looked at Tyler.
“He said you don’t speak our language, but I can talk in English. My name is Fatima.”
Gravely, he took the proffered hand and shook, very formal. “I’m Joe, Joe Tyler. You’re a friend of Javed, is that right?”
“Yes.” She looked at the boy. “Tell me, why have you come back? If they find you, they will kill you. Or force you to become a martyr, which is the same thing. You know about your sister?”
“That is why we have come, to rescue her. Do you know where they are holding her?”
She nodded. “The madrassa, beside the mosque. But it is well guarded, and they will never allow her outside, not without guards. You know they force her to wear the bomb vest all the time? Even sleep in it? They all do.”
