Paul McKellips - Jericho 3

“That’s a very nice story, Agent Jessup; thank you for sharing it,” Ferguson said with no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.

“Sir, if someone was trying to cook a special recipe of a biological agent, then a commercial sprayer, a misting device like this, might be the ticket to creating an aerosolized bio-weapon,” Daniels added.

Ferguson grew silent.

“Sir, I know you have your finger on the pulse with Special Ops missions going in and out of Pakistan. Perhaps you could include this information in your ops planning and briefings. We sure would like to see these two SkitoMisters immobilized. Has Captain Campbell’s mission launched?”

Ferguson and his two majors looked uncomfortable.

“Special Agent Daniels… when did you acquire this intelligence?” Ferguson asked.

“Sir, we’ve been following this paper trail for several weeks now. With the stockpiles on a Russian train headed for the Iranian border, we’ve been connecting some dots.”

“Well, perhaps you should have connected a bit sooner. You’re well aware of the fact that Campbell’s operational detachment is moving into North Waziristan as we speak. Unfortunately, they only have unit comms with contingency plans to use their SAT phones if the situation on the ground warrants. We’ve got a drone watching from above and tracking all 17 beacons. We intend to see 18 beacons on egress. But there’s no way to initiate communications while they’re navigating the mountain passes. It would have been nice to get this information a bit earlier. Anything else?”

“No, sir, just the SkitoMisters.”

“Well, glad to know the Agency is spending our time and money trying to protect the Taliban from a mosquito infestation. Sounds like an important mission. Goodnight.”

Ferguson rubbed his eyes and pulled a cigar out of his top drawer. He was irritated and tired but mostly tired of separate US government agencies and their reluctance to share intelligence with each other in a timely manner.

“Major Spann, get Creech Air Force Base on the line. I want a status report on Alpha Team.”

“Roger.”

Ferguson lit up and paced back and forth in front of the classified maps that filled two walls in his rectangular office. He paused to review Alpha Team’s mission plan and time markers which were laid over the Khost — Miran Shah map with great detail. Checking his watch, Ferguson ran his finger from the northwest starting point and stopped where the time marker said the team ought to be as Spann talked with the Tactical Operations Center at the stateside Nevada base.

“Sir, all 17 beacons gathered in Toledo according to plan. Final leg of the ingress, six dials from Sherwood Forest.”

Ferguson traced the mission plan from the cave complex called Toledo, through the riverbed complex of caves, over Bannu Road and into Datta Khel Village. They were only six hours away.

Miran Shah District

North Waziristan, Pakistan

At 0930 the two squads of Alpha Team mustered in the largest cave. The weather was cooperating perfectly for the final six hour push into Datta Khel Village. Weather conditions were miserable. Heavy snow was falling, the wind had picked up and was whipping around the rock walls of the Hindu Kush. The daylight traverse to the village would require as much cloaked transparency as both snow camo and blowing snow could afford. Once out of the Hindu Kush, the Alpha Team would have limited cover. Omid would lead them directly to the house he had surveyed a few days before, so the team wouldn’t have to remain exposed for very long.

“Listen up,” Manson said as he placed the map in front of Alpha Team. “We’re two clicks out, but at point-six kilometers per hour we could be there in two-and-half hours. We’ve allowed six hours in case of hostiles. We stay spread out along the river bed so snipers have a more difficult kill zone. Once on Bannu Road, we stay smart. Any vehicles, military or other, we go down and hold until they pass. Do not engage. Clear? If we have to engage before Datta Khel, then kiss Major Banks goodbye as we scurry back over the Hindu Kush.”

“Gentlemen, take a look outside,” Sanchez said pointing to the cave opening. “The weather has gone red. Ain’t nobody flying a bird up here in this white-out to save our sorry asses. The blowing snow will cover us, but if momma nature warms up, we could be looking at rain. The mission is right on track, 20 clicks in 53 hours. Two more clicks and, as Manson said, we only need two-and-half dials, but we will use six full dials if we need them. Once we find Banks, get a beacon on him immediately. The drone boys are watching our 17 beacons, and they’re expecting an eighteenth. It’s the only way ‘eyes in the skies’ can distinguish us from Haji. Questions?”

Camp pulled some ice out of his three-week beard as everyone pulled their snow camo masks over their faces for the rapid descent into Datta Khel Village.

In less than 10 minutes Alpha Team had descended the steep footpaths that merged with the riverbed. The trail was completely covered with blowing and blinding snow. The two squads were spread out, but the two scouts with the M4A1s were moving too slow for the clock ticking in Manson’s head. Manson gave a hand signal to Brick, and the CW2 stopped his unit. Manson walked over to Omid who was 30 meters ahead of Camp.

“I need you on point with the scouts, Omid. You know the route. We can’t see shit.”

Omid nodded and ran to the front. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Omid took point, and the pace doubled. No one in Alpha Team could be sure that Omid was actually keeping them on mission, but the blinding snow gave them few options.

The medic in Brick’s squad yelled up to Dex who was carrying the SAT phone package.

“You trust that Iranian?” Lynch asked.

“I don’t even trust your fat duff.”

Emerging from what seemed to be a thousand switchbacks along the riverbed, Alpha Team reached Bannu Road. One set of fresh tire tracks in the snow was heading in the direction of Datta Khel Village. A truck going into the village could mean a truck leaving sooner or later.

The smell of burning wood fire pits wafted in and out of the wind. The smoke hovered low from the heavy snow and couldn’t blow out and over the Hindu Kush.

The first house was visible on Bannu Road. A brown wall made of rocks and mud surrounded the house where a tribesman could make sure his livestock remained close.

Omid stopped. The two squads of Alpha Team stopped behind him. There was nothing to see. No one could hear anything other than the howling wind. Suddenly Omid gave the down sign, and he dove to the side of the road. Sixteen other Alpha Teamers were down and still before Omid’s body even settled.

Camp peered up through his snow camo mask. Nothing.

Out of the blowing snow, Camp started to see an image emerge. A donkey started to break through the wall of snow seemingly coming from infinity. As the donkey walked closer, Camp’s eye caught a glimpse of a tribal elder, bundled up with blankets and scarves across his face and eyes. A Pashtun Pakul was tucked on top of his head. He was sitting on a perch behind the donkey which pulled him and the rusted steel bed of an old Toyota pick-up truck slowly down Bannu Road. The donkey, driver and Toyota bed passed within feet of Omid, Camp, Billy Finn and 14 other members of Operation Detachment Alpha Team.

When the donkey caravan had disappeared from sight, Ham got on the unit communications.

“Clear,” came the whisper from Ham which was heard over every headset in the unit. The team rose as one.

Omid led them past the first house then gave a quick hand signal that was repeated down line. Omid didn’t like the conditions for the main mission plan, the one he had crafted, and decided to utilize the fall-back option, an option he had created as well. With so much snow, local tribesmen would be more inclined to use Bannu Road if they were even outside in these conditions. The six-hour contingency plan allowed them some flexibility.