MB AT O P S
to the northeast, along a section of wall that wasto crumble, a pair of jingle trucks were parked. The trucks were colorfully painted and adornedpieces of rugs, festooned with chimes, and fitted withsorts of other dangling jewels that created quite aas they traveled down the potholed roads between. These trucks had become famous and thenamong American soldiers. They were typicallyby locals to transport goods, but in more recentthey had become instruments to smuggle drugsweapons across the borders with Iran and Pakistan.would hide weapons within stacks of firewood orof rugs, and young infantrymen would have tothe loads while wizened old men glared on, palmsas they were held at gunpoint. I must’ve seen aroadside incidents of search and seizure duringtime in country.Zahed had several of these trucks in the villageunsurprising. That there was a man posted in theof one truck and pointing his rifle up at us gave me.already had him spotted with his scope, and’d attached the gun’s big silencer, so he could do thein relative quiet.told him to wait while I scanned for more targets.
“Ghost Lead, this is Ramirez,” came the voice in my.
“What do you got?”
“Just the one guy in the jingle truck so far. The
OS T RE C O Nwe hit looks empty. Picking up movementall the farm animals in the pens. Nothing else, over.”
“Roger that. Hume, talk to me about the drone.”
“Nothing. Just flying around. If they’re here, they’retaking the bait. Not yet, anyway.”
“All right, just keep flying over the town. Maybe getclose to the mosque.”
“I see it. I’ll get near the dome and towers.”
“Ghost Lead, this is Treehorn, I have my target.”
“I know you do. Hang tight for now. Still want to seethey take the bait, over.”
“Roger that. Say the word.”continued scanning the village, which stretched outabout a quarter kilometer, swelling to the south withmore brick homes that had open windows andwooden ladders leading up to storage areas onroofs. Most windows were dark, with only a fainthere and there from either candles or perhapsor gas lanterns. I imagined that somewherethere, sprawled across a bed whose legs were buck-under his girth, was the fat man who wielded all thein this region.
“Still no takers on the drone,” reported Hume.listened to the wind. Glanced around once more.. Saw the shooter still sitting there in the truck.to move in.
“Treehorn, clear to fire,” I said.
“Clear to fire, roger that, stand by...”held my breath, anticipated the faint click and pop,louder than the sound of a BB gun, and watched
MB AT O P S
the binoculars as the gunman in the jingleslumped.
“Good hit, target down,” reported Treehorn.
“Ghost Team, this is Ghost Lead. Advance to the. Hume, get that drone in deeper, and feel ’em out.teams. Alpha right, Bravo left. Move out!”’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was an adrenalineand that this part of the job quickened my pulsewas entirely addictive. You stayed up nights think-about moments like this. And there was no betterstroking in the world than to play God, to decidelives and who dies. There was nothing better thanhunting of men, Ernest Hemingway had once said,the old man was right.I always stressed to my people that they had towith their decisions, a simple fact that would becomeironic for me.
“Ghost Lead, this is Ramirez. Radar’s picking upbig behind us.”
“Ghost Lead, this is Brown. Paul and I are all set, but FYI, two Blackhawks inbound, your position,.”as he finished his report, the telltale whompingto echo off the mountains, like an arena full ofclapping off the beat, and abruptly the two heli-appeared, both switching on searchlights thatacross the desert floor like pearlescent lasers.
“Ghost Team, take cover now!” I cried, dodgingthe sand toward the jingle trucks., Jenkins, and Hume rushed up behind me,
OS T RE C O NNolan, Beasley, and Treehorn darted for a largeof fallen wall, the crumbling bricks forming ashaped bunker to shield them.
“Hume, bring back the drone,” I added. Then Ichannels to the command net. “Liberty Base,is Ghost Lead, over.”
“Go ahead, Ghost Lead,” came the radio operatorat FOB Eisenhower.
“I want to talk to Liberty Six right now!” I couldsee myself grabbing Harruck by the throat.
“I’m sorry, Ghost Lead, but Liberty Six is unavailablenow.”cursed and added, “I don’t care! Get him on the!”, Ramirez, who like all of us had receivedForce combat controller training, gave me the handthat he’d made contact with one of the chopper, as both helicopters wheeled overhead, waking upentire village. I listened to him speak with that guyI waited.
“Repeat, we are the friendly team on the ground.is your mission, over?”leaned in closer to hear his radio. “Ground team, weordered to pick you up at these coordinates, over.”’s eyes bulged.
“Tell him to evac immediately,” I said. “We do notthe goddamned pickup.”opened his mouth as a flurry of gunfire cutthe jingle truck, and even more fire was directed
MB AT O P S
at the two Blackhawks, rounds sparking off the fuse-.a gasp, I realized there had to be twenty, maybecombatants laying down fire now.knew the choppers’ door gunners wouldn’t return. Close Air Support had become as rare as indoorin Afghanistan because of both friendly firecivilian casualty incidents, so those pilots would justout. Which they did.us to contend with the hornet’s nest theyhadup.
“What do you think happened?” Ramirez cried overbooms and pops of AK-47s.
“Harruck figured out a way to abort our mission,” Ithrough my teeth. “He’ll call it a miscommunica-, and he’ll remind me that I needed company sup-. But those birds had to come all the way from—what a waste!”
“Well, he didn’t screw up our entire mission,” said, then he flashed a reassuring grin. “Not yet!”breath-robbing whistle came from the right, and I’t get the letters out of my mouth fast enough:
“RPG!”rocket-propelled grenade lit up the night as itacross the wall and exploded at the foot of thebricks near the rest of my team.the debris flew and the smoke and flames slowly, I led my group along the wall and backthe brick pile, where we linked up with the
OS T RE C O N, who were stunned but all right. Nolan had foundhole in the wall, and we all passed through, reachingfirst row of houses and rushing back toward them,to our right the wall continued onward until itin a big wooden gate. “We’ll get out that,” I hollered, pointing.reached the first house, sprinted to the next, andhad to cross a much wider road, on the side ofstood a donkey cart with the donkey still attachedpulling at his straps. The moment I peered aroundcorner, a salvo ripped into the wall just above my. I stole another quick glance and saw a guy duck-back inside his house, using his open window andthick brick walls as cover. We could fire all day atwalls, but our conventional rounds wouldn’t pen.glance showed a second gunman in the win-next door. Two for one. Double your pleasure.. We were pinned down.turned back to the group and gave Beasley a hand: We can’t get across. Got two. You’re up.the years I’ve come to appreciate advances intechnology for two reasons: One, as a memberan elite gun club called the Ghosts, I couldn’t helpbe fascinated by the instruments that kept me alive,two, like everyone else in the Army, I enjoyed thingswent BOOM!XM-25 launcher that Beasley was about to presentthe enemy made one hell of a twenty-five-thousand-boom, which was the CPU or cost per unit.
MB AT O P S
“Hey, wait, before he fires, maybe we can call Har-and ask for mortar support,” said Ramirez, makingvery bad joke.snorted and gave Beasley the all clear.team sergeant lifted the launcher, which was muchthan a conventional rifle and came equipped withpyramid-shaped scope.smooth, graceful movement, Beasley laser-des-his target, used the scope to set range, and thenceremony fired.twenty-five-millimeter round packed two war-that were more powerful than the conventionalmillimeter grenade launchers. Next came the momentgun freaks like me got our jollies: The round didn’tto burrow through the wall and kill the guy on theside, no. The round passed through the open win-and detonated in midair, sending a cloud of fragmen-inside that would shred anyone, most particularlyfighters attempting to play Whac-A-Mole withunits.moment his first round detonated, Beasley turnedattention to window number two, got his laser on, set his distance for detonation, and boom, by thethe echo struck the back wall, we were already entoward the wooden gate, even as that donkey brokestraps and clattered past us.
“This one’s a keeper,” Beasley told me, patting thelike a puppy.Ramirez could try the lock, Jenkins put histhirteen boot to the wooden gate panel and smashed
OS T RE C O Nopen. We rushed through and ran to the right, work-back along the wall while Treehorn lingered behind,smoke grenades into the street to create a littleand diversion.choppers were still whomping somewhere overmountains, out of range now, as we charged towardfoothills, only drawing fire once we reached the first. There, we dove for cover, rolled and came back, on our bellies, ready to return fire—I told everyone to hold. Wait. Keep low. And. Treehorn’s smoke grenades kept hissing and cast-thick clouds over the village.of the Taliban were running from the front gate,two went over to the jingle trucks and fired them up.
“They’re going to chase us in those?” Ramirez asked.
“Looks like it,” I said. “Let’s fall back. Up the moun-, back to the pickup trucks.”broke from cover and ran, working our way alongmountainside and keeping as many of the jaggedbetween us and the village as possible. II could say it was a highly planned and skillfulperformed by some of the most elite soldiersthe world.all I can really say is... we got the hell out of.near the mountaintop road, we climbed breath-into the pickup trucks as down below, headlightsacross the dirt road. My binoculars showed the pairjingle trucks and two more pickups with fifty-calibermounted on their flatbeds. I breathed a curse.
MB AT O P S
Harruck had already sabotaged my mission, Inot to throw any more gasoline on the fire. We’t engage those guys unless absolutely necessary.took us down the mountain road at apace, and I was more frightened by his driv-than by the Taliban on our tails. The pickup literallyup on two wheels as we cut around a narrow cliffturn, and that drew swearing from everyone as theseemed to give way in at least two spots.
“This thing’s got some power,” Treehorn said evenly.came down the last few slopes and turned ontodirt road leading up to the bridge. With our head-out, Smith and Brown were watching us withNVGs and gave us a flash signal. We found them atfoot of the bridge, and Brown climbed in the back oftruck.
“Good to go, Captain,” he said. “Just give me the.”
“Soon as we cross,” I told him.
“You don’t want to wait and take them out, too?” he, cocking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Nah, it’s okay. This’ll be enough.”double thud worked its way up into the seats, andleft the bridge and crossed back onto the sand.
“All right,” I cried back to Brown. “Blow that son ofbitch!”worked his remote, and the C-4 that he and Smithexpertly planted along the bridge’s pylons detonated inrapid sequence of thunderclaps that shook both theand the pickups themselves. Magnesium-bright
OS T RE C O Ncame from beneath all that concrete, and just as theclouds began to rise, the center section of the bridgebroke off and belly flopped into the ink-black water,waves rushing toward both shorelines.drivers of the jingle trucks must have seen theand bridge collapse, but the guy in the leadbraked too hard, and the truck behind him plowedhis rear bumper, sending him over the edge whereconcrete had sheared off. He did a swan dive towardriver, while the second guy attempted to turn away,he rolled onto his side and slid off the edge. Three,, boom, he hit the water.them, the two pickups with machine gunnersto brake-squealing halts and paused at the edge sothe drivers and gunners could stare down in awe atsinking trucks—we raced off toward Senjaray in the distance.
I was blowing up bridges and trying to huntmy target, the president of Afghanistan was in theStates, making speeches about how his govern-and the United States needed to build bridges into unite his people. He argued that not all Talibanlinked to terrorist groups like al Qaeda and thatTaliban wanted to lay down their arms and reachwith the national government.may have been true. But I wanted to know howsorted out the friendly Taliban from the ones wiringwith explosives, even as the Afghan presidenthimself with his neighbors: Iran and Pakistan,that served as training grounds and safe havensthose wanting to destroy the United States.
OS T RE C O Nhad answers that involved false assump-, sweeping generalizations, and a skewed under-of the complexities, contradictions, and cultureAfghanistan.that was all politics, right? None of my business.just needed to capture a Taliban commander. One offirst things I learned after joining the military was toon my mission and leave the debates to the fatback home. I talked to my colleagues, and it wassame old story: Officers who got too caught up inpolitics of their missions were, in most cases, not asas those who did not. Success was judged onthe mission goals had been achieved and atcost.we be accused of theft instead of borrowing, weoff the pickup trucks at the edge of town andmet by a driver and Hummer for the ride back toFOB.route, I made a satellite phone call to LieutenantGordon, who suggested I speak directly withKeating. I tried to restrain myself from explod-as I described the situation to the general. He toldHarruck had contacted him already. “Sir, the bot-line is, I want the guy’s head on a platter.”
“You guys were very well liked and made a great teamthat Robin Sage.”
“Yes, sir. But I don’t think the captain is playing onteam anymore.”
“I know you feel that way, but you need to under-something. First, I can’t stop you from lopping off
MB AT O P S
head. If you put it in writing, I’ll have to forward the.”
“I’ll have it to you right away.”
“Slow down, son. Our situation is complicated, andHarruck’s mission further complicates matters.that can and should work to our advantage.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Mitchell, we can use his mission as a distraction toeveryone busy while you hunt down our boy. Themission is our screen. Harruck’s attempts to winthe locals will keep the Taliban busy.”
“Sir, how about the same plan, only we let the XOover. Lose Harruck.”general sighed deeply. “Better the devil we knowthe devil we don’t, Mitchell.”
“Sir, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Son, this has already become a huge task manage-problem. We don’t need to make it more difficult.talk to Harruck. Work it out. I know you can.”could barely answer. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m counting on you, Mitchell.”ended the call before cursing.was waiting for me outside his office when thepulled up. “You were wrong about Keating,”said to me abruptly.
“Oh, yeah?”
“He’s not a soldier. He’s a politician, just like the restthem.”
OS T RE C O N
“Just like you.”shook his head. “Come inside.”raised an index finger, deciding I was going to makebastard suffer a little more for what he’d done. “Atpoint, I advise you to speak very carefully, because’ve just committed a court-martial offense, and even, an immoral and ethical offense. You’ve not onlyan order from a superior, you’ve broken theof honor by endangering me and my Ghosts.”
“Scott, this is the part where I say I don’t know what’re talking about.”
“Look, buddy, I won’t even ask what kind of proofhave or how you tried to orchestrate this thing to getoff. Point is, without authorization you called inbirds to abort my mission. And you know, if wordthis gets out, it’ll spread like wildfire. No one willyou.”
“I got two merchants who said people tied them upstole their trucks. I got chopper pilots telling meblew the bridge over the river. Hell, we heard thego up. And now you’re playing angel? Jesus Christ,... you can’t walk in here and take over. I told yougot eight months in here! EIGHT GODDAMNED!”he raised his voice, I grew more calm and para-regulations, which I knew would spike his pulse.
“By law, you were required to carry out the last orderto you by your superior officer and only afterwardyou to question that order by going up the chain of
MB AT O P S
to my superiors. I’m sure neither Gordon norgave you the okay to abort my mission.”
“Don’t stand there and think you can burn me, Scott.’ve got a lot on you, too. I’m talking lots of stuff in the, friendly-fire crap that was covered up... youexactly what I’m talking about.”, I didn’t because there were too many close, too many missions where collateral damage neededbe addressed by my superiors, who, for the most part,me and my team out of the loop. Whatever hehe had was probably bullshit... but then again,never knew...turned and headed into his office. I followed. Hearound his desk but remained standing. I keptthe door and didn’t take a chair, either.a deep breath, I said, “Simon, I’m trying toif I should have you removed from command.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“Once I light the fuse, there’s no putting it out.”
“Yeah, you like blowing things up. So why the?”
“Changing the subject?”
“Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“Yeah, made it harder for them. They’ve been usingbridge we builtto come over here and attack us.if they want to come, they get to go swimming.”
“That bridge was symbolic of our presence here.”
“Like the school and the police station and the wellwant to drill?”
OS T RE C O N
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“Man, I would’ve never seen this coming.” I closedeyes and took another deep breath. “We can agree to, but you cannot interfere with my mission.”
“You know your mission is worthless. And it mightwe have to sacrifice everything—even now whenare finally going to happen.”
“They gave me a target.”
“And you think you can act with impunity?”tensed. “I can and will act with impunity.”
“So now you’re God.”hands turned into fists. “Why are you doing this?’re on the same side. Zahed is a thug.”rubbed the corners of his eyes. “You think I’m aheart liberal now?”
“They sent you here to secure the town and help the, and they’re calling that counterinsurgency. It’s ajoke. They sent me here to capture or killbad guy. To them, it’s all very simple.”
“I just want to help these people, give their kids a, let ’em have a police station, and let them havedrinking water so they’re not constantly screwedby the Taliban, who’re selling it to them at outra-prices. What’s wrong with that? We’re talkingbasic human rights.”hardened my gaze. “At what cost? My life? The livesmy team?”couldn’t meet my gaze.
“Simon, you’re not here to create a legacy. Just get
MB AT O P S
job done. Secure the town. Assist in building the.”
“They’re already talking about pulling me out. Giv-me four months—if I’m lucky.”
“Well, you got the ball rolling now.”swore under his breath. “Maybe. So what’s next?”
“Well, I can’t trust you, but I still need this compa-’s support to get my job done. Does the XO knowhappened?”
“Shoregan’s on my side. He’ll do whatever I say.”
“Don’t trust him. He wants your command, and Igive it to him right now.”
“Scott, I don’t want to take this any further.”
“Yeah, because you got caught.” I snorted. “I don’twhat you got on me. Bring it.”
“Just slow down, and think about what you’re... one minute you sound like you’ll let me off,next you’re blowing the whistle.”was right. I was torn. I could still go against Keat-’s wishes, burn Harruck, and back the old man into a; however, if I did that, Keating could easily ruin me.glanced over to the wall, where Harruck haddisplayed pictures of his various tours. One onleft caught my eye: our Robin Sage training. I stoodwith our class, with Simon at my side, his armover my shoulder.right there I reasoned that now I could better con-and even manipulate him. The guilt persuaded megive him a chance.
OS T RE C O Nthe same time, I couldn’t help but see him as acog in the wheel of socialism. Sure, we’d buildlocals an infrastructure, but they’d screw us over andforget about us after we left. Nevertheless,billed himself as a humanitarian—one who’dwilling to sacrifice us for his “larger cause.” Youto love that irony.
“Here’s the plan,” I began. “You get word out to theelders that the Taliban blew up the bridge and triedframe some of the local merchants. That way we savewith Kundi and the rest of those idiots in the town.”
“I don’t think they’ll go for it.”
“Doesn’t matter. All we need is doubt. Just makethink everyoneis lying. Now, with the bridge out,’ll have a little more freedom to begin construction,the Taliban will use the shallowest part of theto cross, and they’ll have to move through the eastand approach through the valley and our choke, so you guys can better defend against them now.’ll help your men set up some overwatch positions andgun emplacements.”
“So you knew that blowing that bridge would actu-help my construction project?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know, Simon. You pissed me off the last timetalked, all right?”flumped into his chair. “I still can’t have youinto Sangsar and raising hell. And now that you’vethe bridge, they’ll attack us again.”
MB AT O P S
“Let them. They have to fight on our terms now.’s army will get smaller and demoralized, andwe’ll swoop in.”
“I can’t see this ending well, Scott.”
“It’s hard to see right now.” I found myself quotingand hating myself for that. “Our situation is.” I started for the door.
“So we have an agreement?”turned back. “What?”
“We call the chopper pickup a miscommunication, andhere on out, I won’t interfere with your mission.”
“You’re damned right you won’t.”
“But can you do me a favor?”almost chuckled, and there was no hiding my sar-. “Sure, we’re still bestest buddies.”
“Try contacting Zahed.”
“Excuse me?”
“Try to make direct contact with him. Maybe we cana truce. If we can get him talking, maybe your mis-can change.”
“He’s a terrorist.”
“That hasn’t been proven.”
“I plucked a little girl out of there—and she told me’s a scumbag terrorist. That’s definitive.”truth, she hadn’t uttered a word about Zahed him-, but her eyes had told me enough.went on with his speculation. “Maybe he’t have full control of his men. He’s a politician,. He wouldn’t condone that.”
“So it’s okay that I talk to the leader of an insurgency
OS T RE C O Nrapes children in the name of saving these otherover here.”
“Scott, we can debate this all night.”
“No, we can’t. And we won’t. The fat man will beor killed before I leave. And if he’s not, then’ll be the one leaving in a body bag.”hurried out into the cooler air as two Hummersrolling by. Harruck had put the entire base on, and all the engines and shouting made me wince. I’t wait to collapse into my rack. Maybe I’d wakeback in North Carolina. I could tell Auntie Em that’d had a terrible dream about a sandstorm that had car-me away to a land where camels had wings and notold the truth.
next morning while I was in the mess hall, I ranDr. Anderson, the woman from ARO, who’d beentemporary quarters on the base to begin coordi-with the engineers for the construction projects.remembered my name. I called her Dr. Anderson.didn’t want to get too chummy with her.
“Eating alone?” she asked.team had already chowed down, allowing me toin. They’d understood the night I’d had.
“Yes, I am.”
“Want some company?” she asked.glimpsed her blond hair, now flowing easily over her. No veil required here. She was probably in
OS T RE C O Nlate twenties, early thirties. Just stunning. An oasis.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be good company right now.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” she said, followingto my table and sitting across from me.
“Aggressive,” I muttered.
“I eat my dead.”
“Not bad—”
“For a bleeding-heart liberal, right?”
“I didn’t say that.”smiled. “Your expression did.”
“I told you, I’m not good company.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
“Then why’d you ask? What is this?”
“This is me taking on a challenge.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“I don’t know what it is you do here, but I guess yousome pull with Captain Harruck, and he’s a great, doing everything he can to help these people. So’m wondering why you don’t support him.”
“So the challenge is to get me talking so you can findwho your enemies might be on the base?”
“That’s how we recon. Same as you, actually. Keepenemies close, too.”
“I’m not your enemy. Just a skeptic.”took a bite of her toast, sipped her black coffee.
“And why is that?”
“I could tell you...”
“But then you’d have to...”
“No, not kill you... just start an argument, and it’s
MB AT O P S
worth it. I’m just here to get a job done, and when’m finished, I go on to the next problem.”
“Me, too.” She stared out the window at the dust blow-across the road. “This place... it has a way of drain-all your energy. Some days I just feel like sleeping.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“So you think I’m wasting my time, don’t you? Youwe’re all just spinning our wheels.”didn’t look up, just ate my toast and found greatin the black pool of my coffee.
“Scott, maybe in the end we can do more good bykindness,” she added.
“We’re a fighting force, trained for battle, not police. These people need a police force and a better armyprotect them, and then people like you can come andaid. We’re doing it all for them right now, andwe pull out, you watch... it’ll all crumble.”guys decided that they hated Harruck. I couldn’tthem. I shared what Keating had told me. They, cursed, wished we had beer.the same time, they were getting cabin fever, so Ithem we’d bend orders and don regular Army uni-and pose as grunts to assist with arranging anddefensive positions along the choke pointthe river.
“We just finished telling you how much we hate Har-,” said Brown. “Now you want us to help him?”
OS T RE C O Nsmiled. “That’s right. Don’t you love this place?”threw up their hands.put Ramirez in charge and sent my boys out therehelp a few sergeants, who were glad to have moreon shovels in the one-hundred-plus-degree heat., I paid a long overdue visit to our friendlyCIA agent, a guy who called himself
“Bronco.” I wasn’t keen on working with those bas-, but I figured the least I could do was feel him out.’d thought his agency wanted Zahed as much as I did,we had a common goal.didn’t live on the base but paid rent for a one-shack on the west side of the village. He’d beenthe district for the past two years and had,to Harruck, earned the respect of Kundi andrest of the elders.found him sitting outside his shack, reading a booksmoking a filterless cigarette. His gray beard, sun-skin, and turban made it hard to discern himan American. I’d taken a private with me for securityhad donned regular Army gear myself.took a long pull on his cigarette, flicked it, then exhaled loudly and spoke in Pashto. “Good, gentlemen. What do you want?”answered in English. “My name’s Scott. I was hop-we could go inside and talk in private.”
“You’re not the asshole who blew up our bridge, are?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny any information you
MB AT O P S
regarding bridges in this region,” I answered curtly,gave him my lucky fuck-you smile.rolled his eyes. “Come on in, Joe.”
“Scott.”
“No, Joe.”went in, and I wasn’t sure how a human beinglive like that. One meager bed, small washbasin, a, and two chairs. No power, no running water. Hehave natural gas to cook, but that was about it. Awith satellite link sat improbably on the table, andtold me had a dozen solar-powered batteries to keepthing running—his lifeline to home. He ploppeda chair.
“I’m surprised they didn’t attach me to your mis-,” he said suddenly.
“And what mission would that be?”
“Cut the crap. You’re an SF guy come here to takeZahed. He knew you were coming. We knew youcoming. No one wants you here. No one needs you. So what the hell are you doing here?”started laughing and looked around. “I keep askingthe same question.”
“Go home, Joe.”
“Aren’t you here with the same agenda?”just stared at me. Squinted, really, deep lineshis face. “I can neither confirm nor deny anyI have regarding the whereabouts orcapture of Zahed.”
“All right. You’re me. What do you do?”
OS T RE C O N
“Are you deaf? Go home, Joe.”
“You don’t think removing Zahed will have any effectwhat’s happening here?”
“Yeah, actually I do. This place will tank even more.”
“You don’t think capturing him will gain us valuableregarding the Taliban’s activities in this?”
Дата добавления: 2015-09-29; просмотров: 21 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |