Naeem’s eyes lit up. He would never get another chance to possess such a weapon. “I want one hundred rounds of ammunition.”
Kohistani shrugged. “Fifty is all we have, brother, but the ammunition is far easier to come by than the weapon itself. You should accept the offer.”
“Very well,” Naeem grumbled, already feeling the weapon in his hands. With a rifle such as that, he would be equal to the Americans. He would make their bodies explode the way his cousin Muhammad’s body exploded when he’d been shot two years earlier, delivered to his uncle’s home in the back of a pickup truck, practically blown in half by a single shot. He ordered one of his men to go and fetch the video. “What will you do with it?”
“I will give it to men who know to use such a prize for the glory of Allah,” Kohistani replied, relieved that the young fool sitting before him could be bought so easily with a toy. Now he had what he needed to draw the Americans into his kill zone. Soon, US citizens would be clamoring even louder for their troops to be called home where they belonged. “Now, brother, I must be leaving. We will take the American with us. I trust you don’t mind us taking her nurse along to tend to her?”
Naeem shook his head. “They’re both yours. The nurse is a widow. She belongs to no one. You will take the American east to Bazarak?”
Kohistani hesitated just a fraction of a second before answering. “No, north to Parun.”
“I see,” Naeem replied, thinking to himself, So it’s east to Bazarak like I expected. He knew the HIK had already moved into the Panjshir Valley in force.
They spoke of the jihad as Kohistani patiently finished his tea, treating the young upstart with far more deference than he merited. Within the hour, Sandra was wrapped in blankets and strapped to a battered Russian army stretcher left over from the previous war. Badira was then shaken from a sound sleep in her hut and told she would be leaving with the HIK men who were taking the American pilot north to Parun. She was given time to dress and hurried out the door.
She walked down the narrow trail to the village gate, where she saw four men standing in the darkness bearing Sandra’s stretcher.
Naeem exited a nearby hut, preceding Kohistani and holding a lantern head high. “Badira, you will go with them to keep the woman alive.”
“There’s nothing I can do for her,” she said with contempt. “There’s no more medicine to give her. Only the opium, and anyone can give her that.”
“Then you will give her that whenever she needs it!” Naeem snapped. “Brother Kohistani’s men can’t be troubled with women’s work. They’re a war party! Now shut your mouth.”
To Badira’s immense relief, Sabil Nuristani came hurrying up the trail carrying a lantern of his own. “Wait, Naeem! You cannot send our only nurse away from the village in the middle of the night.”
Kohistani stepped forward, speaking to Nuristani in Kalasha. “I will send her back very soon. Have no fear. You have done us a very great service keeping the woman alive. When Badira returns, I will send her with medicine for the village.”
“Medicine that he will steal.” Sabil stabbed a finger at Naeem.
“I will send enough for all,” Kohistani assured him, willing to promise anything that might avert a confrontation between the two antagonists long enough for him and his men to get clear of the village.
“No,” Sabil said. “We have sick people here! I am the head man, and I say our nurse does not go!”
Naeem grabbed a stick from one of his men and stepped forward, delivering a vicious strike to the side of Sabil’s head. Sabil dropped like a stone, the lantern crashing to the ground next him.
“I should have done that days ago.”
Badira ran forward and knelt beside Sabil. “He’s dead!” she shouted. “You’re a murderer!”
Naeem kicked her away from the body, striking her across the back with the stick. “Obey, woman! Go — and never come back! This is no longer your home!”
CHAPTER 28
Crosswhite made sure the team was set, then moved out up the trail with Forogh to recon the smugglers’ position. They expected to make contact within fifty or sixty yards, but hadn’t gone more than fifty feet before they heard a Pashtun voice speak to them from behind a large tree. Both men froze, bringing their weapons to bear but holding fire, scanning the forest through their NVGs to see the trees coming alive with men picking their way carefully through the darkness.
Forogh stepped forward, answering the Pashtun in a casual voice.
Crosswhite fell back a pace to give him room. The men moving through the trees couldn’t see them, but they were obviously maneuvering to outflank the sounds of the voices. He could tell from the harsh tone that the man behind the tree was giving Forogh a hard time, demanding to know who they were and what was going on back at the clearing, keeping his voice loud enough for his men to hone in on his position.
Crouching low, Crosswhite keyed his radio three times without speaking, waited three seconds, and then keyed the radio three times more. This was the signal for Alpha to bring the rest of the team forward expecting a fight. He could see from Forogh’s posture that he was prepared to engage the man behind the tree, but the interpreter’s voice remained casual. He would have heard the radio signal as well and would know it was his job to buy time for the SEALs to get into position.
Of course, the man behind the tree was doing the same thing for his own people, stalling for as much time as possible. Crosswhite doubted the fellow realized there were any Americans in the area. More likely, he suspected they were tribal bandits looking to steal his cargo. The tree was too big for Crosswhite to get an angle on him, so he would have to trust Forogh to handle the fellow on his own. He quickly sized up the ten men working their way blindly among the rocks and the trees, divided evenly on either side of the trail, assessing that he and Forogh would be surrounded in less than a minute’s time.
Alpha and his SEALs drew within visual range, and Crosswhite listened as Alpha assigned them targets from left to right.
The talking between Forogh and the Pashtun stopped abruptly, and the forest was thrown into an eerie silence, both men having run out of bullshit.
Alpha quietly gave the command: “Fire.”
The SEALs’ suppressed M4s hissed in the darkness, and Crosswhite saw eight Pashtun fighters drop dead across his field of vision. A pair of AK-47s let loose down the slope to his extreme right, but the gunners were taken out an instant later.
A grenade popped on the other side of the tree, and Crosswhite heard it clatter among the rocks behind him as the man took off. Forogh dove behind a rock and Crosswhite threw himself flat against the earth, instinctively aware that he was well within the grenade’s kill zone. The force of the explosion lifted him from the ground and threw him against a boulder, knocking the wind from his lungs. He could hear nothing but a high-pitched whine as he struggled to move and then blacked out.
He came to with a white light being shined into his eyes.
“Captain, can you hear me?”
His thoughts were slow to clear. When he could move again, the first thing he did was grab for his groin.
“It’s all there, Captain. You’re fine. You got your shit rattled — that’s all.”
“Get me on my feet.” He groped clumsily in the dark.
The corpsman kept a firm hand against his chest, holding him down. “No, your brains are scrambled. Keep still.”
“What about the guy behind the tree?”