Patrick McLanahan Collection #1 (28 page)

“That's enough, Colonel,” Patrick snapped. “I'm the MC on this mission, and that's it. You will be the virtual mission commander; we'll put Colonel Long and Lieutenant Grey in as the virtual aircraft commanders. I'm sure Dr. Jon Masters will want to be present as well; Captain Weathers will be on call as the weapons officer.”

“Not going to let me be the hero, eh, sir?”

“You so sure we'll end up with a hero once this is over, Colonel?” Patrick asked.

“Damn straight, sir.”

Patrick clasped Daren on the shoulder. “Your confidence is infectious, Mace. All right, let's do it.”

Three
|

Early the next morning

I
t's true, sir—they're gone,” the platoon lieutenant reported. “The trucks and armored vehicles are all abandoned. We saw some stragglers camped out a few kilometers away, carrying wounded, but they ran off as we approached. They did not appear to be carrying weapons, so we let them go.”

The commander of Kerki Army Air Base glanced at his lead helicopter pilot. “What did you see?” he asked.

“The same, sir,” the pilot reported. “About a dozen light armored vehicles, four small tanks, two large main battle tanks, two dozen supply trucks, the two towed antiaircraft weapons—all scattered across the road and abandoned. Some appeared to be torched.”

“We did see evidence of scouts or infiltrators on the base, sir,” the captain in charge of base security added. “Perhaps they got a look at our preparations for a counterattack and fled.”

“Did you see any of their pickups?”

“We found a few nearby, broken down and abandoned, but all the rest of them are gone,” the scout platoon leader reported. “They are faster and more maintainable than armored vehicles—better getaway vehicles.”

“I'm well aware of that, Lieutenant,” the commander said irritably. “But I don't believe for one moment that they've fled just because their scouts saw us getting some helicopters ready to fly. That Afghan terrorist who calls himself General Zarazi is a berserker, but he is crafty and unconventional. He had several hundred men less than twenty kilometers from here—they have to be nearby. I want search teams sent out after them immediately.”

“Then we shall postpone the assault, sir?”

“Of course. If their vehicles are abandoned, why bother attacking them?” What he did not say was that it was too expensive and too hard on the machines to fly them; he had to save the equipment, fuel, and ammunition for more direct threats. “Redeploy your men and search the area surrounding the base—they have to be moving in on us. If you find any, squeeze them until they talk. Make an example of a few of them.” The officers nodded enthusiastically and hurried off.

The call came just a few minutes later: “Colonel, we've captured several terrorists—including the leader, Zarazi!” The base commander hurried out to meet with his men. Sure enough, they had several scraggly-looking men kneeling on the dirt floor, hands cuffed behind their backs. All of them appeared to have been beaten. “Good work, Captain,” the commander said. “Did you get anything out of them?”

“We haven't started questioning them yet, sir,” the security chief replied. “They came in like that, dragging themselves to the front gate. Looks like they were beaten pretty badly by their own men.”

“So much for honor among thieves,” the commander sneered. “Which one is Zarazi?” The captain pointed him out. “How do you know this?”

“We overheard one of the others addressing him as ‘General.' He is clothed a bit better than the others, and he is the only one with a holster for a sidearm. We took fingerprints—we expect an answer back from Interior Ministry headquarters on his identity soon.”

“Let me know the minute it comes in.” The commander stepped over to Zarazi. “You are General Zarazi?” he asked in Russian. No response. The base commander reared back and smashed his fist into the back of his captive's head, and Zarazi pitched forward, his face crunching into the dirt. “Now is not the time to act brave, scum. Either you talk, or you die.” Zarazi struggled back to his knees but said nothing.

The colonel dragged another man by his hair over in front of Zarazi. “You. What is this man's name?” He did not reply. The colonel drew his pistol, placed the muzzle on the back of the second man's head, and pulled the trigger. A mass of bone, hair, blood, and brains spattered across Zarazi's body. Thankfully, the bullet lodged in the ground and did not ricochet around the small building. “I will continue to execute your men one by one in front of you until you talk.”

“Aslayop!”
Zarazi shouted in Russian, blinking to try to get the gory mess out of his eyes. “You murderous donkeyfucker!”

“Do I have your attention now? Are you Zarazi?”

“Yes, God damn you!”

The base commander ordered the others taken out to the detention facility, and soon he and the captain of security were alone with Zarazi.

“You are one bold man, Zarazi—stupid, but bold,” the colonel said. “You've killed scores of loyal Turkmen soldiers, shanghaied dozens more, destroyed several pieces of military equipment, and stolen hundreds of millions of manats' worth of equipment. What is the point of this rampage you're on? What is your objective?”

“After putting a bullet into your head, just as you did to poor Ahmed there? Destruction of your pissant cowardly country.”

“Destruction? Why? What did we ever do to you?”

“You and your corrupt government sat back and did nothing while the United States, the infidels, and the Zionists raped my country,” Zarazi said. “The infidels drove all my people out of our homeland, and you did nothing. My people tried to seek shelter and help in your country, and you did worse than nothing—you caged them up like rabid animals. You deserve to die, slowly and painfully, and God has chosen me to carry out this task.”

“Unfortunately, my insane friend, you have failed,” the base commander said. “You shall be brought to military headquarters at Ashkhabad, interrogated, then executed. Take him away.”

“Don't you want to hear what will happen if I am taken away, Colonel?”

“Your men will attack my base? Let them try.”

“No—I mean, what will happen to your
family
if I am taken away.”

The base commander's face turned to stone, and he gulped involuntarily. It took just an instant, but the steel returned to his face, and he raised his pistol and pointed it at Zarazi's right temple. “If you thought that would buy you more time, you were wrong, asshole,” he growled. “You just bought yourself a visit to a firing squad, right here at Kerki.”

“I have already surrendered my life to Allah. I am confident he will receive me into heaven,” Zarazi said. “I will meet your four sons, your wife, your two sisters, and your
min'etka
—Kaliali, I believe her name is—there. Soon afterward you will join them.”

“You fucking bastard!” the base commander shouted, grabbing Zarazi by the hair and pulling him to his feet. “What in hell have you done?”

“While your men were searching the desert for me, my men were moving into Kerki, Khatab, and Kizyl-arvat, capturing your family members,” Zarazi said. “Your men are not very happy with you, Colonel, especially the enlisted men. They were more than happy to tell me all about your families in great detail, after they swore loyalty to me and joined my brigade.”

The base commander threw Zarazi back down on the ground, then went over to a wall phone and dialed. After a few moments his men could see their commander's eyes bulging in terror. He replaced the receiver on its cradle with a shaking hand. A nod from him, and Zarazi was lifted up to his feet.

“You'll never get away with this, criminal,” the commander spoke. “The police and the military will hunt your men down and slaughter them.”

“Then they will find your family members dead beside them,” Zarazi said. “I told you, Colonel, we are all prepared to die to complete our mission and fulfill our destiny. You cannot threaten us with pain or death, because we know at the end of it comes everlasting peace and happiness with God. But your children—surely they are too young to die? The oldest has just turned twenty-two, and the youngest is still in his teens—why, his whole life is still ahead of him. And your girlfriend could very well be your daughter—”

The commander punched Zarazi in the face as hard as his shaking, spasmodic muscles could manage. Zarazi only smiled. He knew by the force of the blow that the Turkmen officer was done fighting.

“You fucking bastard . . .” the commander murmured.

“The same fate awaits your officers' families as well,” Zarazi said. “We targeted at least two dozen of your officers' and senior enlisted men's households. We will butcher them all if you do not do as I say.”

“What in hell do you want?”

“Simple: for you and your men to walk off this base, unarmed,” Zarazi said. “When I am satisfied that you and your men are far enough away and no threat to me, I will order my men to release your families.”

“How do I know that you'll do as you say?”

“You do not know,” Zarazi said. “That is my insurance. I promise you, I will slaughter them if you do not obey me—of that you can be certain.”

“Do you seriously expect me and my men simply to walk off this base and leave it to you and your scavengers? Are you delusional?”

“I expect you to act like men,” Zarazi said. “Either execute me for daring to touch your families, and then prepare to mourn the loss of your loved ones, or obey me, evacuate this base, and save your families. Asking stupid questions is a waste of my time. You decide. You have until dawn. If my men do not hear from me by then, they will assume I have been killed and will proceed with my last instructions: kill the captives and escape.”

“You . . . sick . . . bastard. I hope you rot in hell for this.” But the commander nodded to the guard, who hauled Zarazi to his feet and removed the handcuffs.

“Do not worry about my place in the afterlife, Colonel. I believe it has been reserved for me by God,” Zarazi said. “But now I have one more request.”

“We are leaving this place so we can save our families. What more do you want?”

Zarazi looked at the guards surrounding him. As if with a silent command, one of the guards handed over his AK-74 assault rifle to Zarazi.

“What do you think you're doing, Corporal?” the security chief asked.

“He is doing what I think most of your men assigned here will choose to do—join my regiment, rather than slink away with you,” Zarazi said. “Now, as for my one last request, Colonel, I ask that you sacrifice yourself in forgiveness for the murder of my comrade.”

“What?”
The commander's eyes were round with fear, and he looked at the others, hoping for some sign of support. He got none—not even from his security chief and certainly not from the conscripts. They seemed to be very, very pleased to watch their commanding officer die. “You fucking bastard. Kill me if you want. But if you even so much as approach any member of my family, I swear, I will arise from the grave and haunt you through eternity.” And at that, the base commander grabbed the muzzle of the rifle and steered it under his chin. “Let's get it over with, bastard,” he growled, looking at Zarazi with quivering lips but also with pure hatred in his eyes.

“This is the first brave thing you have done, Colonel—unfortunately, it is the last, too,” Zarazi said as he pulled the trigger. Then he slung the weapon over his shoulder while the ringing of the shot, the acrid smell of gunpowder, and the sickening sound of the body hitting the floor, minus most of its head, settled. He turned to the security chief and said, “It appears you are in charge now, Major. I suggest you call the company commanders, have them assemble their troops outside the front gate, and prepare to move out.”

By the time dawn began to break over Mount Ayrybaba, the ten-thousand-foot mountain that sat on the border between Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, the Turkmen troops had assembled outside the gates of Kerki Air Base. To General Zarazi's joy, more than four-fifths of the Turkmen soldiers, including a good number of pilots and officers, remained behind. The Turkmen conscripts were very unhappy with their treatment by the elitist professional soldiers; the younger professional soldiers who were not part of the new quasi-Russian regime in Turkmenistan also chose to remain.

Jalaluddin Turabi, who had met up with Zarazi shortly after the deadline passed, administered the oath via loudspeaker to almost two thousand Turkmen troops assembled in front of base headquarters. They had already organized themselves into companies, chosen new unit commanders, and torn the Turkmen patches and flags off their uniforms. Zarazi, still bloodied by his treatment at the dead commander's hand, led the assembled force in prayer. He then ordered the men to return to their barracks and for the company commanders and senior noncommissioned officers to meet him in headquarters.