WEST OF QUETTA
A stunned Alexandra stared at CSM Primo's profile as he explained the possible outcomes of the mission to save the Afghan peace emissary and his wife. "Are you saying that I may have to deliberately leave Colonel Nobriega behind, CSM?"
"Miss, our primary objective is to get Sangar out of that nest. Everything else is part of the price we may have to pay. The Colonel knows that. So you leaving the Colonel behind is one of the potential outcomes. There are four others and it's my job to make sure you're ready for any eventuality. And if you're wondering if the Colonel is aware that you may have to leave him behind, let me assure you that he is." He retrieved several wild almonds from the ground near his boots and arranged them in a pattern on the dark soil.
Several small birds twittered in a small bush as he continued. "Ever look at the shots that television likes to show of Afghanistan? They always show dun coloured sand, craggy mountains and blowing winds, very rarely do you ever see these lush valleys."
"What are the other potential outcomes, RSM?"
Primo arranged the almonds into four rows. "In the event of Shababa's capture, either you or the Colonel will have to administer the coup de grace to ensure that she isn't tortured. Notice I did not which side captured her."
"What do you mean?" a pale-faced Alexandra demanded.
"If she is in danger of being taken prisoner by NATO or Taliban forces, you will administer the shot that kills her, if you have the opportunity. Look at me!"
The rough edge in Primo's voice caused her to glare at him.
"Can you do that, Miss?"
"I don't know," Alexandra whispered.
"Then let me help you. If either side captures her, she will be raped in front of her husband. They will use foreign implements and will do whatever they can to elongate her suffering to extract information from Sangar..."
"...we wouldn't do that..."
"...did I say that a soldier would do it, miss? It won't be. It will be done dispassionately for profit and clothed in a double layer of protecting the world from terrorism." He shifted the almonds into an arrow head pattern. "Which of the names of the corporate employees of several NASDAQ listed firms would you like? They do this on a daily basis at Bagram Airbase and call it enhanced interrogation techniques. They've been doing it for the last nine years. It took until 2010 before the International Red Cross could finally get the names of the six hundred men incarcerated in there." He paused and took a deep breath. "That's against the Rules of War and all four of the Geneva Conventions that we're supposed to observe. The Afghan Security forces are even worse. That's why NATO forces are not permitted to hand over prisoners to the Americans or Afghans without follow up communications to the IRC. Not that it helps; it just salves our guilty consciences. Or do you really think that the two or three hundred men who have escaped from that cursed place make up these stories? Remember, miss, the Colonel and I were both in the original unit that captured that airbase before the Americans arrived two days later in 2001. Three months later, as we came back from Tora Bora, we could hear the screams as the spooks and contractors arrived with their rubber aprons and gloves. I will advise the Colonel of your position."
"Wait!"
"Why? There're no second chances—too many lives at stake." Primo stood up and dusted the soil from his pants. "You would also have to shoot yourself."
"I will do it," Alexandra responded quietly. "Tell me the rest and then I want to know something that's been puzzling me."
"No bargains, Miss. What do you want to know?"
YOU ARE READING
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Adventure“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
