Camp had never been on any mission where basic communications were so difficult to come by. His heart wanted to reach out and touch Leslie Raines. But American bandwidth in Afghanistan wouldn’t allow that connection to be made, at least not on FOB Lightning.
5
Datta Khel Village, Miran Shah District
North Waziristan, Pakistan
A Taliban guard bent down and cut the plastic straps that bound Major Banks’ feet together. He stretched his legs and knees out for the first time in what seemed like months. He had lost track of time. When he finally regained consciousness from the hit on the head in the ER, he was already out of the ambulance, gagged and rolled into an Afghan rug and was bouncing in the back of an old pick-up truck. The temperatures were extremely cold, so he figured that he had been moved over the mountain pass and into the lawless villages of North Waziristan in Pakistan.
The windowless room in the building refused to betray either night or day.
Kazi was the only one who spoke English. He seemed friendly enough, American educated, but Banks didn’t trust the others.
The captor walked him over to a wooden table that was covered with a few rudimentary operating room devices. Six bottles marked diethyl ether were sitting on the back of the table. Several dozen Ethicon Prolene visi-black M3 surgical suture cartridge spools were scattered around.
Kazi walked into the room.
“Dr. Banks, I’m sorry for your difficult treatment earlier. I apologize. I hope you have enjoyed your meal and some water.”
Banks said nothing.
“This woman is very important. She is the wife of a Taliban commander. We do not have the expertise that she requires.”
Banks looked at the table and the woman on the bed next to him. Her eyes screamed but her mouth was covered with tape.
“She needs surgery, Dr. Banks. Do what they need done, and these brothers will take you back to Paktya, completely unharmed. They can’t take you back to Thunder the same way they took you out, for obvious reasons, but they will drop you off on a nearby road where the ANA will pick you up.”
Hope started to build. Banks stretched his fingers to make sure his hands weren’t injured.
“Yes, we made sure your hands were protected,” Kazi said with some pride.
Banks walked closer to the woman.
“What’s wrong with her?” he said in a raspy voice.
Kazi and the other captors in the room nodded and smiled with each other. This was progress. Perhaps they finally had a cooperative hostage.
“This is difficult to explain, Dr. Banks, but the woman does not bring her husband pleasure. She has been married one year but has not brought him children. He is not attracted to her.”
Hope disappeared as fast as it had arrived. Banks looked at Kazi with contempt.
“The commander is not satisfied with her breasts?”
Kazi pointed to the two devices on the table.
“The commander wishes that you implant one of these in each breast. The commander has acquired these Poly Prothese PIPs from France. They are industrial grade silicone. The best.”
Banks examined the packaging around the PIPs.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to put this woman to sleep with a couple of bottles of diethyl ether, then open her up in here, in this room, and insert industrial grade silicone PIPs? All to make her more satisfying and attractive?”
Kazi smiled. “Precisely, Dr. Banks.”
“I assume you’re aware that the United Arab Emirates and all other civilized countries have recalled these industrial PIPs because they rupture? Does he want his attractive, faithful, and satisfying wife to die in three to four years?”
“Dr. Banks, this is not your concern. Three to four years is ample time to give him a son. She won’t live even that long if she does not bring him a son.”
The Army major started to grasp the purpose of his abduction. But he couldn’t fully process the notion of performing cosmetic surgery on a Muslim woman under such harsh conditions. There had to be other options. Banks mustered enough saliva in his mouth as he could then spit on the floor near Kazi.
“Screw you,” Banks snarled seconds before the butt of an AK-47 opened a gash on his head as he fell to the dirt unconscious.
The captors carried him over to his bed and threw him down as Kazi warned them not to hurt his hands.
Level One Clinic - TMC
FOB Lightning, Afghanistan
Camp was sitting on the edge of an exam table in the clinic. Seven soldiers were in line at the window waiting to get another week’s supply of Ambien. Two young Army medics walked Miriam into the clinic and over to Camp.
“Salam,” Camp said gently covering his heart with his hand.
Miriam smiled.
“Miriam, I am Captain Campbell, and this is my associate Billy Finn.”
“It is my pleasure to meet you.”
“Your English is excellent. You were Major Banks’ interpreter?” Camp asked.
“And four more doctors before him. I have been working for coalition forces for five years now.”
“Where do you live, Miriam?” Finn asked.
“Interpreter village.”
“Well, your file says that you work seven weeks straight then take one week off every two months. Where do you go when you’re not in Terp Village?”
“My home is in Khost, Mr. Finn.”
“Do you have family, Miriam? A husband? Parents? Children?”
“Such questions are interpreted as rude in Afghan culture, Mr. Finn.”
“Well, then pardon my damn potty mouth and answer the freaking questions. In American culture, kidnapping is hardly interpreted as high-brow social etiquette either.”
Miriam nervously stroked the single glass bead on her necklace.
“I have one son, he is six years old. My husband is a farmer.”
“What tribe are you, Miriam?” Finn pressed.
Miriam was now irritated with the excessive line of questioning.
“I am Pashtun, Mr. Finn, my father was Mezi clan of the Zadran tribe.”
Finn smiled and shook his head slightly. He got the answer he wanted. The interrogation was over.
“Am I in trouble Dr. Campbell?” Miriam asked trying to stop the questions. “I desperately need my job to feed my family and take care of my parents and cousins. Many people depend upon my salary.”
“No, Miriam, you’re not in trouble,” Camp said trying to be reassuring. “Mr. Finn and I are here to help figure out what happened to Major Banks. Do you know of any reason why the Taliban would want to kidnap an American doctor?”
“No. He was a good man.”
“Was?” Finn asked.
“He is a good man. Dr. Mahmoud and the rest of the staff think highly of him.”
“Dr. Mahmoud… I’d like to walk over and see him. I presume that’s the hospital we saw across the street when we were pulling up to the checkpoint?” Camp asked.
“Yes, but I’m sure Dr. Mahmoud has gone home for the day. It’s almost four o’clock,” Miriam said.
“Geez, nice hours. Then tomorrow morning, 0900 hours?” Camp asked.
“Yes, I’ll be waiting for you at the checkpoint.”
Camp nodded, and the medics took Miriam out of the clinic and escorted her back to Terp Village. Finn got up and followed behind her for several steps, stopping only when she had left the clinic.
“Anything?” Camp asked Finn, as he searched for useful conclusions.
“Mezi clan. Zadran tribe. Jalalludin Haqqani became a powerful military leader back in the day, during the Soviet occupation. He also got tight with our CIA, Pakistan’s ISI and the new Afghan government. His son Sirajudin Haqqani runs military operations for the old man now with capable help from his little brother Badaruddin. The Haqqanis are also Mezi clan, Zadran tribe. In fact, Sirajudin selected Sangeen Zadran to be the shadow governor for one of the provinces.”