Open Season by Cameron Curtis (great novels TXT) 📕

stirs sugar and cream into her coffee. Sips carefully. “It is good.”

“Come on, Stein.” I lean back and my chair creaks. I’m an average guy. Average height, average looks, husky build. Not an ounce of fat on my frame, and muscle weighs more than fat.

The woman stares at me, collects her thoughts.

“You’re the reason I’m here.”

“Obviously.”

Stein is thirty-five, looks younger. Ambitious as hell, she fights fires. If anything goes wrong, they’ll hang her out to dry. She hasn’t been caught out yet.

“I could have phoned you last night,” she says, “but I wanted to speak in person. I let you sleep while I sat in a C-17.”

Not a hair out of place. I could cut myself on the creases in her suit.

“It’s important. I get it.”

“You are about to receive a job offer.”

Oddly phrased. Nothing about this rendezvous is normal. Dan should have presented the job. Instead, Stein sits in front of me, implying the offer will be presented by someone else.

“Am I.”

“Yes. Dan Mercer was briefed twelve hours ago. Dan said, of course Long Rifle was interested, but you were currently on contract. The man who made the offer said he would make it to you in person. He was confident you would accept.”

“Alright. How are you involved?”

Stein shrugs. “I put the idea in his head.”

“You’re here to see me before he does.”

“Yes.” Stein shifts in her chair.

“Crude, Stein.” I finish my coffee, pour myself another cup. “Not up to your usual standards.”

“It’s a complicated situation.” Stein frowns. “I had to improvise.”

“Of course. Tell me.”

“Have you heard of Robyn Trainor?”

“Yes, I have.”

Sergeant Robyn Trainor was a US Army Cultural Relations Team specialist. An interpreter, attached to patrols and special missions in Afghanistan. Eighteen months ago, Mujahedeen captured her in an ambush. US forces worked hard to find her. Delta and DEVGRU, the army and navy special operations units, were placed on high alert for a rescue attempt. The Mujahedeen moved her around. No opportunity presented itself. After a year, prospects of a rescue dimmed.

Stein gives me a satisfied look. “We negotiated her release.”

“Negotiated. How?”

“Certain overtures were made. For the last six months, Colonel Robert Grissom has been meeting with the Mujahedeen who took her. She was freed two days ago.”

“Great. What do you need me for?”

“You know how complicated Afghan politics is. She was captured by a band of brigands led by Zarek Najibullah. You’ve heard of him.”

“Yes. He wants us out of the country, but he’s not a rabid fanatic. A practical man.”

“Indeed. He’s mostly interested in smuggling opium north into Russia. Weapons and explosives south. Grissom negotiated Trainor’s release. They were making their way back along the Kagur Valley. A group of Taliban, led by Abdul-Ali Shahzad, ambushed them. Wiped out the escort and took Trainor and Grissom.”

The plot is thickening. I can see the mess Grissom and Trainor have landed in. The Taliban are a loose alliance of insurgents, brigands, and drug runners. They are frequently at each other’s throats, but they are united in a desire to evict Americans from Afghanistan. Najibullah and Shahzad compete for control of the lucrative smuggling routes in the north. Routes that run across the mountain valleys and peaks of the Hindu Kush. The borders between Afghanistan, Pakistan, Tajikistan and China are lines on a map. Meaningless to the Taliban and Pashtun villagers. Shahzad is a nasty character. His Taliban are spread the length of the border with Pakistan, frequently with embedded Al Qaeda units.

I squint at Stein. “Why are you so interested in an army sergeant?”

Heaven knows I’m not. Not enough to leave my cushy gig in Mindanao.

Stein stares at the volcano. Mount Pinatubo’s perfect cone. Its peaceful slopes conceal incomprehensible violence.

“Grissom wasn’t negotiating Trainor’s release.”

“Go on.”

“Grissom was using Trainor as a cover. For six months, he was in and out of the Hindu Kush, negotiating a peace deal with Zarek Najibullah.”

“Wait a minute.” I straighten in my chair. “I read the news. We’ve been negotiating with Shahzad and the Eastern Taliban, not Najibullah. The Shahzad talks fell through.”

Stein turns to me. “That’s correct. The United States wants out of Afghanistan, period. We have fewer than five thousand troops in-country. Not enough to win, but enough to make a vulnerable target. We want out, but don’t want to leave Al Qaeda with a functional refuge. We want to leave a balance of power between the Afghan national government and the Mujahedeen that keeps Al Qaeda at bay. Shahzad’s assurances were not convincing.”

“Grissom was your fallback plan. You used him to open a back-channel to Najibullah.”

“You got it,” Stein says. “Trainor was our excuse.”

I shake my head. “How do you know Zarek didn’t kidnap her to lure you into a negotiation?”

“I don’t... He’s crafty,” Stein muses. “Zarek, huh. You on a first name basis with the old pirate?”

“Delta spent years trying to kill those warlords. He was the one who always found a move we didn’t expect.”

“He is good. And he’s avoided entanglements with Al Qaeda.”

“You struck a deal. Zarek wouldn’t have let Trainor go otherwise.”

“Yes.” Stein smiles. “At the precise moment talks with Shahzad broke down.”

“I assume Shahzad knows.”

“Of course. That’s why he took them.”

“You want to mount a rescue.”

Stein looks cynical. “General William Anthony wants you to rescue them.”

The day is full of surprises.

I have known Lieutenant General William Anthony for twenty years. He was my first CO after I passed selection. Anthony is a man’s man and a warrior’s warrior. I’ll follow him anywhere. His career, moribund prior to 9/11, took off like a rocket when the United States went into Afghanistan.

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

Stein has always been Machiavellian. “No, he doesn’t.”

“I don’t like sneaking around behind the General’s back.”

“The negotiations are my responsibility. I’m not sure General Anthony is on board.”

Stein wants to be Director before she’s forty.

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“There’s a strong neoconservative faction that transcends party affiliation. A lot of folks don’t want us out of the Middle East. They don’t like that our troop strength has shrunk from a hundred