discovery was rapidly giving way to anger.
Franklin shook his head. ‘Facial recognition confirmed it. It’s him, Ryan.’
Frost glanced at the two men. ‘What’s the deal here? Who is this asshole?’
‘His name’s Kourash Anwari. We believe he’s former Mujahideen,’ Franklin explained. ‘He fought against the Soviets back in the eighties, then formed his own militia group during the civil war that followed. Mercenaries, basically. They pretty much dropped off our radar once the Taliban came to power. It was only after we invaded in 2001 that he appeared again, this time working for the insurgents.’
‘The Taliban hiring mercs now?’ Keegan asked.
‘We do. Why shouldn’t they?’ Franklin shrugged. ‘It’s a case of supply and demand, really. Now that al-Qaeda’s on the ropes, there’s a big market for trained men ready to fight.’
The CIA, along with various other military and intelligence agencies, had been quietly eliminating many of al-Qaeda’s senior leaders over the past seven years, more or less crippling their higher command structure. As a result, al-Qaeda had to all intents and purposes ceased to exist as a coherent organisation. These days it was a fictitious blanket term used only by the news media.
The reality was far more complex, and ever changing. Factions and splinter groups were on the rise, made up either of lower-level al-Qaeda commanders, formerMujahideen who had once fought alongside the West against the Soviets, or new groups eager to join the global jihad. Freed from any form of centralised command or control, and able to indulge their wildest excesses, these groups were rapidly becoming a nightmare for Western intelligence agencies.
‘We eventually caught up with him near the Pakistan border. We sent in a strike team to take him down.’ Franklin glanced over at Drake, who had remained silent throughout this discussion. ‘Ryan led the team. He’s also the reason the guy’s missing a couple of fingers.’
Finally Drake looked up. ‘And now he’s free and shooting down helicopters,’ he said, his tone faintly accusing. ‘Care to explain why, Dan?’
Franklin cleared his throat and looked down at the folder in front of him. ‘Anwari was being held in one of our … facilities in the east of the country.’
He was referring to a Black Site, Drake knew. Such facilities were scattered all across Afghanistan, and usually served as secure locations where terrorist suspects could be held without trial, interrogated and tortured without official accountability. Since nobody knew they existed, human rights laws could be effectively disregarded there.
‘Apparently the facility was attacked in a coordinated night raid. In the confusion, Anwari and several others managed to get out.’
Drake shook his head, hardly believing what he was hearing. He had risked his life to take that piece of shit out of the game for ever, and now here he was, back to his winning ways.
‘That was last year. Since then, Anwari has reconstituted his militia group and started a guerrilla war against us. They’ve staged at least a dozen bombings in and around Kabul, plus sniper and RPG attacks. Now it seemsthey’re moving up in the world, literally. Shooting down aircraft is a whole new ball game.’
Air superiority was one of the few advantages that ISAF (International Security Assistance Force) enjoyed over the insurgents. If they lost control of the air, the war in Afghanistan was quickly going to turn into the second Vietnam that everyone had always feared it would.
‘They’ve got us by the balls on this one, and we need to respond. Mitchell’s too valuable to lose.’
‘Why? What was he working on out there?’ Drake asked.
Breckenridge cut in. ‘Drake, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about operational security. It’s not necessary—’
Franklin silenced him with a raised hand, which was good for all concerned. Drake had been seconds away from telling him to go fuck
Robert Asprin, Eric Del Carlo