The nighttime air felt good. A gentle sigh left his lips while he took in the night sky. It was a relief to be outside in the courtyard. They’d briefed, planned, coordinated, and prepared all day cooped up inside the little compound Al’s people ran. The dark sky was clear, the temperature was a more tolerable level, and it was quiet. It was a lot to take in. Julia’s brief had been exhaustive, illuminating, and infuriating. The information she had researched seemed to keep going, and she had only given them what she had compiled in the two notebooks she’d brought. There was more, but they were well past saturation. One thing that got under his skin was how easily the CIA was taken in by Hotak, or Baabaa Hotak, as he came to be known. During the Soviet occupation, they needed as many Afghanis as possible to join their cause. They barely even vetted them. It wasn’t until well after the Soviets pulled out they found out Hotak was not only working with the Americans, but he was also helping the Russians. He betrayed either or both and did whatever it took to line his pockets. Several CIA agents died at his hands, as did many Soviet soldiers and even more Afghanis, civilians, and Mujahideen fighters. Once the Taliban took over, Hotak integrated himself into their leadership, according to the CIA, to further his interest in the opium trade.
Everything that happened since the CIA hired Hotak could have all been avoided. The murders, the betrayals, the killings, including Paul, all of it could have been prevented if some pencil pusher had done his job and properly vetted Hotak. How Hotak came to be in the Tal Bez Valley, Mike didn’t know. Maybe his old Team had disrupted Hotak’s opium business, there were certainly enough poppies growing everywhere in their area of operations. What he did know was that someone twenty some years ago someone didn’t do their job, and his brother was dead because of it. And he had to fight not to internalize that with everything else.
There were more stars in the sky than he remembered. He tried to let go and see only the wonder of a cloudless sky, vivid stars unimpeded by pollution, and a bright clear moon shining down on him, maybe in some small way cleansing him. But it was nonsense, the thing that drove him, hate, didn’t just disappear because of a pretty sky. Deep down, he knew the hate would probably end up killing him one way or another. It didn’t matter.
The stars above were a good way to distract his thoughts and focus on the mission. The glowing tip of his cigar was a reminder he’d come out here to relax, but it was hard.
The Afghani with the machine gun was the same man he saw in the picture. The Giant, the one who shot Paul, but Mike had no doubt who was ultimately responsible, Baabaa Hotak or whomever he called himself. Hotak had set up the ambush on his team that morning.
They’d spent months after the ambush interviewing Afghanis in the police, military, farmers, shopkeepers, and the Team’s assets in the area. Mike casually placed his hands in his pockets, his cigar jutting from between his lips. They would have talked to the Afghani President if it had helped. The cigar moved from one side of his mouth to the other, and he gently chewed it, blowing smoke into the night air. They learned some hard facts. This Baabaa Hotak had far more control in the region than the Team had given him credit for. He was the Primary HVT in the Team’s Area of Responsibility and directed all enemy ambushes, roadside bombs, assassinations, graft, theft, and everything else. But, they’d learned, he had his tentacles around many high and low ranking police and military officers and most of the warlords not only in their AOR but countrywide. Worse still, he had subjugated several of their assets.
It had been a hard pill to swallow to know that it was his fault. The Intel looked spot on. There had been no reason to question it. Everyone who had worked for them had proved themselves on numerous occasions, leading to successful ops. But, somehow, those men had all been bought out either by money or intimidation.
He had been the one who pushed it and got his brother involved. With Paul’s help, he acquired the Marines help. Every man in combat knows the risk. Death is always out there waiting. But he was responsible for it happening to Paul and the other Marines. He should have seen through the lies, he should have detected the ambush before it started, and he should have done something.
That day in the valley, he had lost something inside himself. Somehow over the last year, he had found a way to salvage his relationship with his kids, but he’d probably screwed that up because here he was, back where it had started.
The door behind him opened, illuminating the courtyard. He chose not to turn and see who it was, he had a good idea. The moonlight gave the little fenced in space a small bit of charm in an uninspiring land. The artificial light from the open door highlighted the hard-packed earth, small mounds of dirt piled against the green screen attached to the chain link, the fine layer of dust on the old wooden picnic table, and plastic chairs.
As the door closed, Mike drew a three slot leather cigar case out of his back pocket, extracted a cigar, and held it to his left. Tom took the cigar and grunted thanks. Mike put the case back, pulled out his lighter and clipper, and handed them over.
A hand took the offered items. The clip snapped, dropping the cigar tip to the ground. The lighter stayed ignited for an extended time until Tom made a satisfied grunt.
Wordlessly, Mike took the clipper and lighter.
After several puffs, Tom broke the silence. “Quite the brief she put together. I’m a believer.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Stolen story; please report.
They both stared out over the fence into the night for several minutes.
“You know,” Tom pulled the cigar from his mouth and held it before his chest. “This day is a big day for you.”
Mike looked up at Tom’s emotionless face and then back over the fence. “I’m listening.”
“What I’m saying is, prior to the Tal Bez you were a different man than you are now. Before you were fun or fun-loving, or…” He grunted again. “You know what I mean. After Tal Bez, all the fun drained out of you, and all the seriousness stayed but amplified. After you went to Arlington to bury Paul alone, I might add. No invite for good old Tom. You’re demeanor changed again. Something happened up there.”
Mike snorted. “What, are you a freaking mind reader?”
“Only with women.”
They looked at each other. Mike rolled his eyes, and Tom chuckled.
“It doesn’t hurt that I’ve known you for about twenty years. I’ve seen you through some ups and downs. Hell, I was there for some of them. The point is you were never an asshole back then, but now…”
“Mike took the cigar out of his mouth. “Oh, I was always an asshole.”
Tom smiled. “Point taken.”
“But, I get what you're saying. I have changed. I know it. This thing inside me is a festering sore. It gets worse, it gets better, but it never goes away.” Mike took a slow drag and blew a large cloud of smoke into the night. “You and I have lost contact for the last few years, and that’s my fault. Since the divorce and retiring, all I’ve done is prepare for what may happen tomorrow. All of it in the hope I could come back here and finish what I started.” He took a deep draw from the cigar. “My Ex doesn’t talk to me, I don’t blame her. My kids probably won’t talk to me again because I came back here. I’ve ruined every other relationship I’ve had since, all because of my hate. I didn’t know if I would ever get this chance.” He spit a piece of wet tobacco on the ground. “Honestly, I assumed I would die a bitter, lonely, hate-filled old man. But today, all that hate has a purpose.”
The end of Tom’s cigar lit up the sour look on his face as he drew in.
Mike glanced up to see Tom’s eyes staring out into the night sky.
“But you didn’t bring this up to hear me talk about that.”
“True.” Tom took the cigar out of his mouth. “We don’t know what’s coming, but it could be some heavy duty shit. That being the case, when my personal safety is at stake, I have to bring up my concerns.”
“You want to know if I’m mentally prepared for what we find out there and if I can handle it without getting anyone else killed.” Mike looked at Tom’s expression and then back over the fence. “I’m prepared. If you don’t believe that, you may have to bow out?”
The tenseness in Tom’s demeanor dissipated.
“I’m in. I was always in if it meant getting some payback for Paul. That hasn’t changed. I’m with you one hundred percent on this. I just want to make sure you’re a hundred percent.” Tom snorted. “Besides, you know me. If there’s a fight coming, I’ll always be the first in line to go.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a hundred and ten percent for this thing.”
“Uh, there’s no such thing as a hundred and ten percent.”
Mike exhaled sharply.
“And the former Afghani Commando guys, the CIA has squirreled away here swooping in for the kill instead of us?”
“We’ll do a thorough recon and play that part by ear.”
Tom pursed his lips, a little put off.
“Look, I get it. We’re the recon team. We’re only here because of our time in and around the Tal Bez. We’re supposed to find out what’s going on in that valley and send that info up so the Commandos can come in and clean up. However, I’m still not clear on why the CIA really wants to go to this valley. Right a wrong? They want payback for Hotak’s betrayal and the deaths of their agents?”
Mike shrugged. “I know about holding a grudge, but something’s up that they’re not telling us.”
“Clearly.”
“But, I’m not rocking the boat. It gets me closer to Hotak.”
“I understand. When we need the commandos, we’ll call them. Right?”
“Don’t worry.” Mike blew a long stream of smoke into the air. “I know my role. Help get the team in. Let Al and them look for whatever they’re interested in and wait.”
“Wait?”
“Al said that this might be my chance to get Hotak, and that is what I’ll be waiting for. So don’t worry about me.”
“Worry? I’m in no matter how you want to play this, I’m at your side. I expect this will be the last time either of us will be in Afghanistan, so maybe we’ll go out with a bang,” Tom smiled, “or a whimper. If that helps get the monkey off your back, so much the better. I’m not worried. Believe that. ”
“Thanks, brother.” But, the tormented feeling of never doing enough or being allowed to do what needed to be done pressed down on him like a weight. He wanted to be within a breath’s distance from Hotak when he killed him. He didn’t want some CIA commando putting Hotak down or, worse, allowing him to escape. That could not be allowed to happen.
Tom shifted his feet, trying to gather his words. “It isn’t about now or during the op. I have no concerns other than the obvious.” He glanced at Mike’s intense eyes staring back at him and shifted his gaze into the distance. “It’s what will happen to you when the mission is over. In the end, if he’s there, this Baabaa Hotak will be dead, and so will your purpose, intent, goal, or whatever you want to call it. What happens to you? One way or the other, everything changes after that. My hope is it will clear your mind and give you a reason to go on living, like in the movies. You take revenge on your nemesis, take a deep cleansing breath, and it’s over.” The side of his mouth lifted into a half smile, half grimace. “But, that’s the movies. It could be the opposite. It could leave you more desolate, despondent, or whatever it is that’s got a hold of you.”
“You think I’m desolate?”
Tom shifted his shoulders. “Yeah, afraid so.”
“So you’re my therapist now?”
“I didn’t sign up for it. But, on a mission like this, it’s an implied task.”
“Hmm.” Mike took the cigar out of his mouth and flicked it across the courtyard. “Maybe you are a mind reader, after all. In my more alcohol induced quiets, I’ve considered the future and if I have one. You don’t have to worry. However this thing goes, it won’t be a suicide mission for me. But when it’s over, I will have to find a purpose. I know that. What that is, I have no idea and haven’t given it that much thought.”
“So you’re going to have to figure out what you want to be when you grow up.” Tom grinned. “I know the feeling, and I’ll be there for you.”
Mike responded with a half grin. “That old joke.”
Tom chuckled.
Mike shook his head half grin, turning to a full-on smile. “You know, all this adult talk is bringing me down. Let’s go finish up and get ready for tomorrow.”
Tom dropped his cigar and crushed the lit end. “About that, I’d be willing to bet Captain Amadulah still lives up there.”
Mike’s lips dropped. “Yep. You’re probably right.” He turned and headed for the door.