Eves of Destruction Read online

  Casey glared at him for a few more seconds then stepped back and, placing her hands on her hips, said calmly, “If you’re going, I’m coming with you. I’m just saying I think it’s a bad idea.”

  “Duly noted,” Mulos responded unconvincingly. “Now gear up. We go in five minutes.”

  They set out in two vehicles, the Hummer in the lead, the pickup truck trailing behind with the local Pushtun who had given them the lead sitting in the back. Riding with Casey who was driving the pickup, was Agent Michael Cole while the other two men were in the Hummer with Peter Mulos.

  The going was difficult, the road little more than dirt trails. Mulos who was driving the lead vehicle pushed the pace pretty hard, making it difficult for Casey to keep up. There had been very little rain in the area and the wheels of the leading vehicle kicked up dry choking dust. The pickup lacked an air conditioner so they had to choose between stifling heat in the closed cab or thick dust. Cole kept his window open and Casey kept hers closed. The pickup danced around in the pitted path, bouncing them up and down in the small cab.

  “You know this is fucked up,” Casey said to her colleague as she kept her eyes focused on the path. “We don’t know where we’re going and we have absolutely no idea what we are going to find when we get there. Why didn’t you say something?”

  Cole shrugged his shoulders. “Mulos is a dick and a moron but he is also the SAC and he gets to make the decisions,” he said somewhat defensively.

  “He’s only the SAC because everybody else is out. If the rest of the team were here, this wouldn’t be his call.”

  “I know,” Cole replied, “but hey, you know the pressure to capture Al Qaeda right now is huge. If we have a lead, we have to pursue it.”

  “And I’m not suggesting we let this go. I’m just saying we should do it properly. We either wait till the rest of the team gets back so we have the right resources or we call in for support. Rushing out like this is just… well… fucked up.”

  Cole nodded slowly but did not say anything.

  Casey turned her eyes from the road and glared at him for a second. She had no issue being the only woman in the fort among all Rangers and FBI agents, but sometimes she definitely felt like the odd one out. The SAC had insisted despite her protestation that she bunk in her own room forcing the other FBI agents to double up in the quarters with some of the Rangers. When she arrived on post, the military commander on site had banned the practice of open showers which the Rangers used to keep clean; one man pouring water on a naked buddy while he soaped up and then one more bucketful to get the soap off. Casey could have cared less but it took a week to get a couple of covered showers built which caused some mumblings about having a woman in camp. Ironically the young rangers seemed most comfortable with her in camp and were very friendly. She recognized that their generation was already used to having women in positions of authority or in roles previously considered unfit for women and, to them, her presence was not unusual. It was the older men in their late thirties and early forties who seemed to struggle with it. She could really care less what people thought. She was completely confident of her skills and would back down from no-one.

  But Cole was right about the pressure to capture or kill Al Qaeda terrorists as quickly as possible. There was increasing frustration in Washington that for so long after the attacks of 9/11, Osama bin Laden was still at large and sending radio and video messages to the world via the Al Jazeera Arab news channel seemingly at will. It was hoped that by pairing up the FBI’s analytical skills in the field with US Special Forces, they would increase pressure on bin Laden and flush him out of his suspected hiding place in eastern Afghanistan along the border with Pakistan. Casey’s team had been in the country for almost two months and had been hard at work trying to coordinate a new strategy. So far they had achieved very little.

  They drove on in silence, Casey fighting the steering wheel trying to keep the truck from breaking an axle on the rough road. The sun was setting behind the high mountains off in the distance, the long shadows making it even harder to see the trail.

  Up ahead, the Hummer slowed down as the trail narrowed. Casey slowed down as well, keeping her distance—better to make two targets instead of one she thought to herself.

  Suddenly her partner shouted at her. “Casey, our guide just jumped out the back of the pickup. Where the fuck is he going?”

  Cole turned in his seat trying to find the fleeing Afghan who was now running back down the trail.

  “Oh shit,” Casey shouted, “we’re in a fucking ambush.”

  She pushed hard on the horn trying to get the attention of the vehicle up ahead. Just then, out of the corner of her eye she saw a streak of light arcing towards them. Before she could shout a warning to her colleagues, the rocket propelled grenade struck the Hummer just below an open window and the vehicle exploded with a large flash.

  “Get out of the car—get out, get out,” she screamed to Cole as she grabbed her weapon and rolled out of the moving truck, landing hard on the rough ground. She bounced up, running away from the still rolling truck, screaming for Cole to get out. She saw him roll clear of the truck’s cab and then winced as she felt the flash of heat as a second grenade hit the front of the pickup truck, ripping it apart and upending it on its side. Legs driving hard, she could hear small arms fire cackling around her as she ran towards a group of large boulders just beyond the trail, diving behind them as bullets bit into the earth near her feet. A moment later, Cole dove in beside her. Both agents quickly assumed firing position between the rocks.

  “Are you hit?” Cole hissed at her, as he fought to catch his breath.

  “No,” Casey whispered back. “Are you?”

  Cole shook his head. “What the fuck happened?” he asked as wiped the sweat off his brow.

  “It was a fucking setup. We drove right into a fucking trap.” Casey shook her head in disgust.

  Slowly she raised her head and peaked over one of the rocks trying to see what had happened to the Hummer. It was still burning and she could make out two bodies lying next to it.

  “Do you think they’re all-?”

  Cole never did finish his question. The bullet struck him in the left temple, the other side of his head exploding in a flash of brains, bone and blood splattering Casey’s face and chest. She stifled a scream as his body collapsed at her feet. She ducked her head down and reached for him and then recoiled at the sight of his smashed skull. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing, fighting off panic.

  Voices from just beyond her hiding place snapped her quickly back to reality. In the gathering darkness she allowed herself a quick glance over the rocks and could vaguely make out at least four men advancing towards her position. She ducked back down and did a quick assessment of her situation. It was bad. She was outnumbered and knew any attempt to fight her way out was suicidal. She was all alone in an unfamiliar location with no means of communication. Darkness was her only protection if she could hide until the last light of the day disappeared. She squeezed between the narrow boulders behind her and as quietly and quickly as she could, she crawled away from the approaching attackers.

  Their voices grew louder as they found the body of her colleague and paused to abuse his corpse and rifle through his pockets. She gritted her teeth in anger at the sounds of rocks smashing his already broken skull, but used their distraction to find a better hiding spot. As the last vestiges of light disappeared, she tucked herself into a wedge of large boulders, pulling her legs to her chest to form as small a target as possible and placed her weapon across her waist. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and struggled to calm her breathing.

  For what seemed like an eternity she sat there not moving. She wondered what time it was but did not dare press the light button on her digital watch. She could hear voices that seemed quite close but could not make out any figures moving around. Her body grew stiff but she was afraid to move. As she sat in her hiding spot she made a quiet resolution
with herself; she would go down fighting. Under no circumstances would she let herself be captured alive. She had seen what the Taliban had done to American men they had captured and she could just imagine what they would do to a woman. She would not let it happen.

  As darkness enveloped her, Casey shivered against the desert cold. Dressed only in a T-shirt and fatigues, she had little protection from the cold night air. Her throat was dry from the dusty road and the stress of the attack. Her body was stiff from sitting still in a confined space but despite her discomfort, she stayed still. She did a quick mental inventory of her equipment. Rolling out of the truck so quickly, she had not noticed that her camel pack, a large backpack water pouch carried by most of the troopers and field agents had by some good fortune, snagged on her rifle and was now still dangling from the weapon. As quietly as she could, she untangled the backpack and slowly took a couple of quick sips to quench her thirst. Fortunately, the pouch was full and held almost two liters of water, good enough to sustain her for a day or so even in Afghanistan’s brutal daytime summer heat. She also had her M4 carbine, a shortened version of the M16 rifle, two spare ammunition clips in her trouser pockets, a standard issue FBI semi-automatic handgun in a holster on her hip, a six inch bowie knife in a sheath attached to her belt, and a small pack of sucking sweets in another pocket. She ached to reach for one of those sweets, to feel its flavor in her mouth, but she resisted the temptation.

  A burst of gunfire snapped her out of her reverie and she winced before realizing the Taliban were just firing at shadows. She could still hear voices not far away and it was obvious they were searching for her. She assumed they had seen her jump out of the truck before it was hit and were intent on finding her. A captured American soldier would make a great prize. When they realized she was a woman and an FBI agent, her value would only increase.

  Fortunately, when the waning moon rose late in the evening it was just a thin sliver in the sky, proving little illumination to her pursuers. Gradually, after what felt like an eternity, their voices trailed off and then there was silence. Casey fought to stifle her shivering body, straining to hear any hint of movement. At first she was afraid they might be tricking her into revealing her position, but after what seemed like a very long time, she was certain they were gone. Slowly, she uncoiled herself from the narrow wedge of boulders that had been her hiding place and carefully stood up, weapon at the ready. Peering into the dense desert darkness, she could make out very little. She briefly illuminated her watch to the check the time. It was close to midnight.

  She pondered her situation. They had driven for almost two hours before the ambush and despite the difficult road conditions, had probably averaged about thirty miles per hour. That would put her at least sixty miles from camp. Even worse, they had left without providing a time certain when they would return so it might be some time before someone even raised the alarm that they were missing. They had had satellite phones in each vehicle but communication was notoriously bad in the mountains and valleys of Afghanistan so even if they did not have contact with their base, it was unlikely their failure to return would cause anyone to raise an immediate alarm.

  Casey shook her head in disgust. Self pity was a luxury in which she never engaged. Since joining the agency almost nine years prior she had worked hard to establish a reputation of excellence in all her work. She had been a nationally ranked collegiate athlete, was a quick study, a diligent student and good at her work. Each year she received glowing reviews from her supervisors and anticipated a steady upward career in the Agency. But at some point, she was not quite sure when, she hit the glass ceiling. Men who had served less time than her were promoted. Choice assignments went to others. She could not really recall any overt sexist comments other than the natural flirtatious ribbing among the younger FBI agents which never bothered her, but slowly she began to resent the overt fraternal nature of the Agency. Most of the agents were men. A disproportionate number of managers were also men. There were an increasing number of women in management but they seemed to have the least prestigious jobs.

  When teams were being selected to go to Afghanistan to accelerate the capture of Bin Laden and top Al Qaeda leaders, she campaigned hard to be included and despite her low expectations, was one of only two female agents chosen for the mission. She knew there was some grumbling among agents not chosen that her selection was more political than deserved but Casey just ignored the sniping. At thirty-eight years old, she knew her capabilities and was confident in her ability to perform as well or even better than any man on the team.

  Carefully, she began climbing through the rocks back to the dirt road. For a moment she considered going back to the burnt out vehicles up ahead but quickly dismissed the idea: they were all dead, if not from the first missile then certainly from the shots fired by the attackers. She was equally certain the equipment inside the vehicles had already been looted or destroyed in the attack.

  She reached the road and, after pausing briefly to look carefully in each direction and listen for any sounds, she struck out back to Camp Huge. She hoped to cover at least thirty miles before sunrise.

  She started out at a fast walk, startled to hear how loud her steps sounded. If anyone was nearby they would hear her for sure. But after covering about a mile, she gained confidence that she was alone. Slinging her rifle into a more comfortable position across her back, she broke into a run. Running had always been a sort of solace: an escape from the rigors of school or college or even FBI training. A solitary run in a park or forest had always lifted her spirits. Now, as she settled into a comfortable pace, she felt stronger and emotionally uplifted as she began her long trek back to base. She was not naïve about her circumstances: a lone woman in hostile territory with limited water and sixty hard miles to safety. She wondered how long it would take before her water ran out and her thirst became unbearable, probably two days if she kept out of the sun during the day. The trick was not to deny herself water, but to try to keep what she had for as long as possible. Two days would be tough, more than that and her kidneys would start to fail. Worst of all, her faculties would decline at the moment she needed them the most. She shrugged off the negative thoughts and just focused on keeping her pace steady and her breathing regular.

  As a land locked country, Afghanistan has big differences between day and night temperatures. Even as she ran, Casey could feel the temperature rapidly fall and she noticed she was barely sweating. Her mouth was very dry and after two hours of running, she took a break and allowed herself a couple sips of water and one of the sucking sweets in her pocket. The sucking action created saliva in her mouth and at least temporarily, she felt the thick dryness in her throat ameliorated. It felt good while it lasted and before the sweet had been reduced to nothing in her mouth, she resumed her run.

  Before dawn she began to hallucinate. A large rock up ahead suddenly looked like an old Russian tank and she scrambled down to the side of the road before she realized her error. On another occasion she thought her college roommate was running beside her and imagined they were having a conversation. It had been a pleasant distraction from her actual circumstances.

  She was exhausted and began to feel the first effects of dehydration, a drumbeat in her head constantly demanding that she stop and quench her thirst. Sparingly, she sipped the water and twice she had fallen asleep on her feet and stumbled as she startled awake. Still, she drove herself on recognizing even in her muddled state that her survival depended on getting back to base as soon as possible. Daylight would force her to stop and seek cover from the blazing Afghan summer sun and Taliban fighters who might still be looking for her, but every step she could run now would bring her closer to safety.

  Just before dawn broke in the mountains behind her, she finally stopped running and began to walk slowly for a while, cooling her body down before seeking some shelter to hide during the day. Casey understood she needed to harbor her strength and expected to cramp up from the hard run and rationed water supply.
She stepped off the road and slowly began to climb the small hill to her right looking for shelter. The land was barren of trees and almost bare of vegetation. Her best hope was to find a large rock that would give her shelter from the sun and protection from searching eyes. She moved off the road almost one hundred yards to the crest of the hill, weapon at the ready and settled on a large cluster of rocks covering a small, tunnel-like narrow patch of dirt. She started to climb in headfirst and then reversed herself, working her feet in first, keeping her head oriented towards the road. She laid her weapon down directly in front of her and tried to stay alert. A cluster of rocks in front of her would keep her hidden from road but still allow her to see anyone approaching, at least so she hoped.

  She rested for half an hour and, drank a little more water and rewarded herself with another sucking sweet. Just as she was about to doze off, she was suddenly startled by the sound of voices from the road. Her heart was pounding and she struggled to listen but it was unmistakable; someone was coming down the road. She could not make out the voices but they sounded uncomfortably close but because of the way sound echoes between the hills and gullies of Afghanistan, she could not be sure.

  She moved lower into her hiding place and watched as a group of heavily armed Afghan men came walking around the corner. She quickly counted eight men and noticed that they were walking purposefully at a quick pace. But they were also walking carefully, spread out to avoid a surprise attack, and weapons at the ready. Casey slunk down lower behind the small boulder and watched them walk past her.

  She was not sure who these men were but it was likely they were part of the same group of Taliban fighters that had ambushed them the night before. She was surprised at how quickly they had caught up with her, disappointed she had not been able to put more distance between herself and her attackers.