WEST OF QUETTA
"Are you being glib?" He moved his head backwards as he attempted to avoid her touch.
"Does it have anything to do with the seven people you think you killed without cause?"
"That a kind way of putting it." He turned away from her as he began speaking. "They were two mothers and five children—and they were innocent victims." He massaged the back of his neck as he moved further back into the crevice. "Be careful, I will tell you if you really want to know, but you'd better get ready to enter my earthly version of hell." After a long silence from her, he smiled. "Good choice. Now we'd better get ready for our little trip."
"I wasn't avoiding you or your history, Christopher. I just picked the wrong time to broach the subject." She shook her hair loose from the bandana. "This isn't the time for it. You and I need to spend some time together without distractions so we can discuss it. Do you want your T shirt back?" She unfolded her chadri and stood up.
"It's going to be cold out there. Keep it and put this on over it." He tossed her a cotton sweater. "Keep the weapons between the layers so that their outlines are hidden."
"So all I have to do is go wherever Sangar's wife takes me on the initial contact? What's her name?"
**
"Shababa. And she's a Hazara. She's not Pashtun."
Alexandra adjusted her chadri, ensuring that the outlines of her weapons and ammunition pouches were not evident. "They're from the central region, aren't they? The Hazara, I mean. We saw a lot of them in Quetta in that marketplace."
"Very good—you read the Ministry's brief on Afghanistan and Pakistan." He rolled the blankets and inserted several ration packs into the folds before tying them down.
"I thought the Hazara were Shiite. How does a Sunni Muslim marry a Shiite?"
Christopher tossed her one of the remaining ration packs. "Sangar and Shababa signed the marriage contact and committed to each other three times like any other Muslim couple, I assume. This is your last chance to eat for a few hours—same thing with the bathroom. So, eat up, and do whatever you have to do back there."
"You're not answering me. I didn't want to know about the damned ceremony, I want to know how and why they got together. Is there any chance for some hot water?" She held up a pack of instant coffee.
"Yes, the sun's up and we can get away with a small fire. Are you asking me how Sangar convinced Shababa to marry him? Like any other man. I suppose he lied, seduced, begged or groveled – whatever it took for him to get her to say yes." He piled several handfuls of dry debris into a pyramid. "Reach over there and pass me those twigs, we don't need a large fire for this."
12 ST CHARLES STREET
LONDON
"Have you ever thought why you're a Whitehall outsider, William?" Ronan ruminated as he watched Lady Catherine disappearing into the back seat of her BMW.
"I have a short memory that masquerades as a clear conscience, Ronan." Sir William strode over to the tea service. "Why not remind me?"
"It's because you're a bloody iconoclast! Why are you using Catherine to seed your damned rumor? Do you really think she's the mole?" Ronan slapped the morning newspaper on the desk's edge. "Or is your bloody adolescent fawning that is running rampant?"
"None of them. Think, Ronan! Based on her remit as Chairperson of the Select Defence Committee and those other bizarre cabals in Whitehall, who does Catherine have to advise of the information I just told her?"
"The Prime Minster of course." Ronan frowned as he concentrated. "The Foreign Secretary, Minister of Defence, MI-5 and MI-6 – can't think of anyone else."
"Precisely." Sir William consulted his pocket watch. "And each of them will advise their senior aides..."
"And you think it's the Foreign Office don't you? Are you sure that's not your prejudice since your last brouhaha with them, William?"
"Dear boy, at my age, I have very little ego left. I just want to get this sorted out quickly." Sir William paused as he closed the watch. "She should be at No. 10 right now. If I am correct, both ministers, MI-5, MI-6 and your superior will be in the weekly national security meeting with the PM. She'll be briefing them right now. It time to see whether your minions can monitor the Foreign Ministry's and MI-6's simultaneously after they leave. Let's find this mole, Ronan."
Ronan stared as his boyhood friend climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. Finally, he opened his laptop as he reached for the secure telephone line.
"Iron Hammer, here. Designation code is ..."
**
Fifteen minutes later, he sat back and monitored the communications logs scrolling on his laptop's screen. Carefully, he opened a new window and stared at the video feed from the garage for No. 10 Downing Street as he awaited the withdrawal of the ministerial cars and their precious cargos.
"I hope you're right, William. Or the Commissioner will be sautéing my gonads in the morning for his breakfast."
WEST OF QUETTA
"Why are we still here?" Alexandra peered from the crevice at the distant horizon.
"Waiting for a 'go signal' from Primo. We have to know that they're ready for a fast evacuation," Christopher continued scanning the western edges of the valley. "We have about thirty minutes. Listen to me carefully."
"Yes, master. I'm listening." Alexandra kneeled on one of the rolled blankets and batted her eyelids at him.
"As a dutiful wife should." He ignored her glare as he continued. "The objective is to get from Sangar a 'go' or 'no go' signal. There are three possible replies that he can give us. He can decide to abort the mission and pull out with Shababa. Two, he can send only Shababa out. Or three, they both can decide to stay since I can't see him leaving his wife behind."
Alexandra nodded.
"We will be housed either in a cave in a communal style setting or we will share a house with Sangar and several elders – depending on the size of the house. As I explained to you in Lebanon, you and I will be expected to share a bedroll." He glanced away. "That will put us into quite an intimate situation and I want you to know I will not take advantage of it. Having said that, you may be required to make the appropriate sounds if the other married couples are ..." He made a gesture of two palms coming together. "Ahem!"
"Clapping? Is that an Afghan married custom?" Alexandra peered at his stone-faced expression as she repeated his hand gestures. "Do they sing or hum as they clap? Is that what you mean by the sounds? Aaaaah!" She nodded. "Married Muslim couples don't do that in Lebanon. They find more exciting things to do, especially if they have young wives like me. And if the wives are rubenesque – ohh la la!" She made a wringing gesture with her hand.
"You know what I mean, Alex. Now, can we review the disposition of our support?" He swept an area on the floor and spread out several satellite photographs. "This is the village." He pushed two photographs together. "Seven compounds surrounded by farms and grazing land to the west. And north." He moved to the third photograph. "These are the mountains and cliffs to the south and east. We will enter through here – this gap in the south east."
"These are the trails?" Alexandra traced the white lines on the third photograph. "How do we know which ones have IEDs?"
"When we ride in, I will not use the roads, I will follow the grazing trails and fresh tracks. The bike's fairly light, even with the two of us, so we won't trigger devices set for heavier vehicles and we won't be using the same routes that like NATO patrols use. We're the Taliban ..."
"What do we do if we encounter a NATO patrol?"
"We run like hell." He grinned. "I should spot them before they have eyes on us and Primo is making sure they give us a wide berth. That's why we're waiting for his signal right now."
Alexandra examined his relaxed demeanor and nodded. "I assume this is the old boys' network at work. You know the commander for this region?"
"Commanders. I was here a week ago, remember? Mike Dalton and Higgins will ensure that there are no Marines or Grenadier Guards in the ten kilometer area for a two-hour gap. That shouldn't raise any red flags with the Taliban since it's only two hours."
Alexandra nodded. "After we enter, what happens?"
"We freelance. Sangar and I have an agreed set of code words. You need to know one of them – Shaddad means immediate abort. If you hear either of us mutter it, it's time to get the hell out of that village – weapons free – that means kill or wound anyone who tries to stop you. Understood?"
"What about you and the others?"
An awkward smile appeared on his face. "Don't worry about us. Get to the motorbike and head south. Look for two flares – red, then green – and head towards them. Primo and Mustapha will ensure you are covered."
"How long will we be in the village?"
"Twenty-four hours." He relaxed against the back of the crevice and continued to scan the horizon as the light increased.
"Then you'd better explain to me why can't send a passive signal to Sangar? Like arrange the rocks in a specific pattern or something similar? How does he presently report his progress? He has a radio, doesn't he? There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"
Christopher continued to concentrate on the horizon. "What makes you say that?"
Her soft laughter echoed in the cave. "If I was a big, brawny paratrooper and I wanted to extract a key agent, my little feeble female mind says I would assault with a team after I advised my agent to meet me on the outskirts of the village." She made a swooping move with her hand. "Swoop in. Pick them up. And you're back in base in an hour with your agent."
He nodded. "That's good. Very good."
"And you're not going to tell me. Are you?" Alexandra crawled behind him. "When is Primo going to signal us?' She leaned against his back and smiled at his sudden movement. "I just thought two sets of eyes might be better than one."
"Thank you. Now let's agree on a few tactics. Nothing too complex. Did you learn to pepperpot?"
"You fire. I move five to ten feet forward, take cover and provide you with covering fire as you leap frog forward over me. We repeat until you give the dual assault signal," She whispered into his right ear. "Three round bursts. I call out before I have to reload. I do the same when I have reloaded. Is that what you mean?"
"Yes. If I get hit, you leave me and take the bike. You can ride the bike, can't you?"
"I was trained in defensive driving and riding and boating. Any other questions?" She smiled as he moved forward. She reciprocated by leaning further forward. "Am I bothering you?"
"No."
"Ahh, then you must have male/female intimacy problems."
"I do not have intimacy problems. I like women!" Christopher straightened up causing her to move backward while suppressing a grin.
"If I was a big, brawny paratrooper, would you have a problem if I did this?"
"No," Christopher muttered.
"Then why do I feel some much tension in your neck and shoulder. Would you like a massage?"
"No."
"I'm just trying to ensure that you won't act abnormally when we're together in that cave with the elders. We must be familiar with each other and you were the one who said that I would have to make the appropriate sounds. Remember?"
Christopher swiveled to face her. "I thought you that you thought I meant clapping." He jumped as he felt her hands grasping his neck muscles. "What are you doing?"
"If you expect me to go into a rat hole with you and these tense muscles, you had better think again. Your reaction time will be better if you lose this tension. Has Primo never done this for you?" She paused and leaned forward. "You really do have intimacy problems. Are you gay?"
"I am not bloody gay!"
"Do you think you can make the appropriate noises and actions when we are under that blanket? Or would you like a few pointers?" She grinned. "We may even have to learn to synchronize the noises we make with your movements. You know, do we moan? Do Muslim call out like Christian women to God? Missionary position? That sort of thing."
Silence prevailed as she continued kneading his neck with her balled up fists.
"Does that help, master?"
"We have a go signal." He pointed to the right.
"Then before we go you'd better explain why you're not extracting him with a team, kind sir." She moved back to her position on the blanket roll.
"Simple. If the coordinates of his location were known, how long do you think it would take a drone to nail that village? Our friends who want to continue the war are on the same command radio net and would be looking for signs of a rescue attempt in NATO chatter."
Alexandra wagged her finger. "Then why wouldn't they spot the lack of patrols and target the area anyway?"
"Because Primo delivered the message personally and Dalton and Higgins know to keep it off net. Nothing's going out to any other units on the communications net until we're out of that village. We only have twenty-four hours. Any other questions?" He moved to the motorcycle and loaded the panniers.
"One more, O lord and Master. You've used Sangar before, haven't you? On other missions I mean. Want to tell me about it?"
"No."
"Then you can go alone. Drop me off with Primo." She stood up and adjusted her chadri