The Puppetmasters (29 page)

Certainly eyebrows were being raised within the whole international intelligence community. No one wanted to think about the alternative, that something untoward had happened to President Shazeb. It was generally believed that he’d become nothing but a tyrant and brutal dictator. His unsophisticated PR attempts had shown the world a somewhat modern society, with every citizen benefiting in some small way financially, through the sharing of oil and gas revenues. But for the past couple of years, the word was that Shazeb was hoarding hundreds of millions of dollars for his private coffers.

The future of Afghanistan was in doubt. Shazeb looked to be nothing more than another dictator who would run the country into the ground while the world pretended not to notice. But because it had stayed out of other countries’ businesses primarily by minding its own business and curtailing or brutally repressing any would-be home-grown terrorists for export, the country of Afghanistan had uneasily and reluctantly earned the begrudging respect of the international community. That translated to being left alone to run its own country as it saw fit. While it was true that the Afghanistan leaders kept its youth and young men within the borders of the country, President Shazeb had contributed tens of millions of dollars personally toward supporting terrorists in the Middle East. But the rest of the world had no inkling of that. So long as it wasn’t bombing any other country directly or exporting mayhem and
disillusioned youth to exact vengeance and rage on other countries, the world had left Afghanistan to its own devices.

The same begrudging respect could not be said for the Shazeb boys, Saaqib and Ahmad. Their brutality and ruthless actions were legendary. Most countries avoided any attempts at crossing them or engaging them. As far as the world cared, those boys bore watching. If and when one of them succeeded his father, it would most certainly become an international issue. But with the current worldwide climate of aversion to interfering in any country’s governance, not to mention directing it toward the head of the country’s own kin, the boys’ behavior was observed and cautiously ignored … for the time being.

Nevertheless, the international intelligence community was on heightened alert. All available eyes were directed toward Afghanistan to get an idea of what was happening. The U.S. Department of Defense sent up Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, or drones, over Afghanistan to surveil the country. The smaller UAV
MQ-9 Reaper
was used for reconnaissance, to get closer to the ground for real-time pictures. The
MQ-9 Reaper
captured the first images of the destroyed AIDC building, followed by the burnt-out shell of President Shazeb’s former palace.

The Secretary of the Navy noted that Israel had an aircraft carrier positioned in the Arabian Sea just off Pakistan … in international waters. This was the ideal location if one were to launch an action in Afghanistan. While that was not unusual, as it patrolled those waters several times a year, it was more than coincidental that it was in perfect position for any strategic military activity in Afghanistan.

The U.S. leaders contacted their appropriate counterparts in Israel to find out the reason, if any, for the aircraft carrier’s presence at that precise location in the Arabian Sea. Of course, Israel denied any pending military action involving Afghanistan.

With the confirmation that the AIDC offices had been destroyed and Shazeb’s palace gutted, it was pretty clear that the president was either dead or on the run. Since he or his boys were not beloved around the world, the U.S. decided to observe from afar. At the same time, the Department of Defense raised the alert status for all the U.S. military branches.

A warship, destroyer, and aircraft carrier were deployed to the Arabian Sea, with several more standing by in the Indian Ocean, ready to assist. But it would be at least two days before any U.S. ship reached an area within striking distance of Afghanistan. In the interim, the U.S. would need to rely on its small contingent of troops at the al-Masanah Base, northeast of Muscat, in Oman.

As a result of the financial disaster of 2008, followed by a decade of high unemployment and recession, hard times were felt all around the world. There were simply not enough resources to keep all the U.S. bases running at full
capacity. Many bases had experienced downsizing or even closure as funding dried up and congress refused to continue pouring money down the drain.

The U.S. had effectively stepped back from the world, choosing to isolate and regain its strength internally. U.S. presence around the world was not as visible, and it was no longer expected to automatically come to the aid of a struggling country every time it was needed. Nevertheless, this time the feeling was strong that U.S. military assets needed to be close at hand should they be required.

The U.S. intelligence community was already edgy over the mysteriously missing Orion people and the inability of the experts to locate them. There was an overwhelming feeling among the U.S. spy agencies that the Afghanistan events gave rise to a foreboding state of affairs. This time the U.S. could not afford to ignore world events. Besides, it had not had a naval exercise in over six months, and this would serve that purpose. But the irregularity of not informing the nearby countries, as was the standard operating procedure, would need to be adroitly handled by the most experienced and diplomatic of the U.S. top brass.

The U.S. scrambled to understand what was happening in Afghanistan and position its military to render assistance or intervene should whatever was occurring in Afghanistan spill over into the neighboring countries. It was definitely behind the eight ball and knew it. It sorely lacked critical intelligence and for the first time felt helpless as to the seemingly major events that were unfolding. It had been reduced to that of a spectator. What would be the upshot?

In the meantime, within twenty-four hours things disintegrated as strategic bombing and military sorties were begun in Afghanistan. Every U.S. spy agency and its international counterparts and nations sought to pore over the images coming to them from their respective countries’ drones. Nothing made sense. Why would ordinary farms, warehouses, and trucks be bombed with such precision and forethought, and all within one area of Afghanistan? It soon became clear that this had to be the major drug operation that Israel had referenced days earlier.

But why had it necessitated the destruction of the Afghanistan government building and presidential palace? There was only one answer. The president and possibly elements of the Afghan government were the operatives behind the Afghanistan drug business.

Even if some or all of that was true, why hadn’t Israel just told the international community of its plans? Why the secrecy? Why the deception and outright misdirection by Israel?

There was definitely more afoot than the international community realized. By the end of the next day, the rest of the world would be reeling at the rapidly unfolding events. Even Israel would be taken by surprise, as the result of its strategic mission devolved into lawlessness and more bloodshed.

B
RAKING HARD IN AN EFFORT
to control the swerving and out-of-control vehicle, Rashid finally brought the skidding jeep to a halt. He then reached over and grabbed Kendall’s arm to silence her scream. She hadn’t even realized she let out a sound. Rashid quickly pulled the night vision goggles off his head and turned on the headlights.

As they blinked in the harsh light, a young figure stepped out from a confusing movement of dark bodies on the road. Rashid looked closer and realized it was hundreds of goats. A young boy of maybe fourteen approached their vehicle. He apologized for being in their way and shining a bright light at them.

He explained that he and his cousin were herding the goats up a little higher into the mountains where the prime meadows were. This was the best time of night to move the large herd, when few vehicles were on the road. They had run into a large rock face that forced them to move into the road for a few hundred feet. He assured Rashid they would be off the road and out of their way in five minutes. Rashid was very relieved at the simple explanation. He lapsed into casual conversation with the goat herder as the jeep crawled along behind the rambling animals. Rashid translated for Kendall as he chatted with the goat herder at the back of the pack. The boy smiled shyly at Kendall. He stopped to talk to them but then darted about to redirect a wayward kid.

Apparently, the boys were in charge of some four hundred twenty-five sheep for twenty-two families. Kendall was fascinated. She did not see any brandings and asked how they could tell the sheep apart. The young goat herder proudly proclaimed that he had learned over the years how to distinguish each family’s goats. He was easily able to tell them apart.

Rashid rooted around in the back of the jeep and offered the young man a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. The goat herder eagerly accepted but would not stop to indulge himself until he could share his treats with his cousin. For the children in Afghanistan who had nothing to speak of, any act of charity was met with delight and thankfulness.

The goats and herders turned to proceed up the steep mountainside. Rashid and Kendall continued on their way west. The young goat herder at the back of the pack smiled and waved as the jeep rolled past. Rashid decided to leave the headlights on.

Kendall was now wide awake and wanted to talk. “Rashid, where are we going?”

“We’re going over the Shibar Pass into the Bamiyan Province or Valley.”

“Why there?”

“I have a friend, Jangi Khan, who is a farmer. I know he will help us.”

“How do you know you can trust him?”

“Because one day when I was traveling in the Bamiyan Valley for President Shazeb, I came upon Jangi. His truck was broken down on the side of the road, and he was on his way home. I was driving a military transport truck, so I towed him home.”

“That was nice of you. You helped a complete stranger.”

“Yes, I did. I always try to help. You never know when you might need a friend. He was so thankful and urged me to think of him if I ever needed help. We kept in touch and became good friends. I often stayed there when I was traveling from or to Bamiyan. So, here we are … on the way to his house.”

“How do you know he’ll help us?”

Rashid grinned. “You aren’t very familiar with the Bamiyan Valley, are you?”

“Sorry. Not at all. Tell me.”

“Well, the Bamiyan Valley is quite famous. In ancient times, Bamiyan was a crossroads for caravans traveling the Silk Road trading route. The famous Buddha statues are carved into the cliffs overlooking the Bamiyan Province.”

Kendall sat up as her memory was stirred. “Yes, you mentioned that the day we were at the bazaar in Kabul. Didn’t the Taliban destroy some of the statues and paintings a couple years before the U.S.–Afghanistan war in 2001?”

He was pleased that she knew something of the history and nodded. “Yes. They thought the statues were nothing more than idols that the infidels worshipped. The Taliban ordered the Afghanistan military to destroy them.”

“That’s awful! Those statues were cultural landmarks.”

“Yes. The whole thing was sad to watch. Anyway, one of the other reasons we are going there is that the Bamiyan Valley is the safest place for us in Afghanistan.”

“Really? Why?”

“The Valley is home to the Hazara people, like Jangi. They have always been outsiders and faced much persecution. They are pretty much left alone.
But they are very poor, since the government does not sponsor any improvements there. As long as they don’t make any trouble, the rest of Afghanistan leaves them be.” Rashid grinned at her. “Doesn’t that sound like the first place we should go?”

Kendall looked and sounded relieved. “Absolutely! We’re going to friends … or at least to a friendly place.” She settled back in her seat with the knowledge that they weren’t headed into a dangerous area. She even slept a little.

The remainder of their trip was uneventful, and they reached the Bamiyan Province as the morning light was just coming into view. It was still dark out, and Rashid was relieved that their arrival would be in darkness. This thirty-forth and largest province of Afghanistan was centrally located and far enough away from where the bombing would take place all day long. As day broke, the jeep sped past the Bamiyan University and nearby hospital. Finally, they turned into a pomegranate-tree–lined private road leading to a medium-sized farm in the Hazarajat region within the Bamiyan Province. The farm was situated in the lush fertile Bamiyan valley.

They circled behind the modest house and pulled into a makeshift barn. A middle-aged man ran into the barn followed by three teenage boys. He greeted Rashid like an old friend. Rashid was obviously acquainted with the man’s sons as well. They all nodded shyly at Kendall, who quickly donned her headscarf. The man was introduced to her as Jangi Khan.

Their meager possessions were removed from the vehicle, and the boys then surrounded the jeep with a wall of hay. All evidence of the jeep was effectively erased. They entered the house where the man’s wife was completing the cooking for the morning meal. Kendall was relieved to see they had indoor plumbing. Sitting on a large rug, she and Rashid joined the family. The men spoke in
Dari
for a long while. Kendall watched Rashid’s face as his expressions alternated between anger, rage, sorrow, worry, and even some fear. She was dying to ask him what was being said, but knew she had to wait until they were alone.

Jangi and his wife could see that the travelers were weary and in need of sleep. Kendall was surprised when, after the meal, they were ushered back to the barn and shown two low beds in the upper corner of the barn. The makeshift beds had been quickly erected from wooden slats and hay, with a thick blanket over each cot. The cots were situated under the sloping roof and were, for all intents and purposes, invisible. They both sank onto their freshly made beds and fell fast asleep.

Kendall stirred occasionally and caught the sounds of a working farm all around her as the daily chores were attended to. She could hear Jangi talking to his children. Although she didn’t understand the local language, Jangi had instructed two to work together in the nearby potato fields, and the other to attend to the animals they kept. The sons were very polite and respectful to their father.
The boys ran in and out of the building all day, as they sought some needed farm implement. Periodically, the sound of kids’ laughter rang out. It was soothing and musical to Rashid and Kendall’s sleep, but every so often Rashid would think about Poya and wonder if the little guy had stayed out of the line of fire.