PRIMAL Mirza (A PRIMAL Series Novella) (2 page)

“An expendable force?”

“No, an independent organization with
operational flexibility. We chase down our own leads and report straight to the
Director.” The captain paused. “Do you think this could be something you’re
interested in?”

“That depends?”

“On what?”

“Will I get paid more than I am now?”

“SPEC-B is not in the habit of recruiting
mercenaries, Mirza.” He picked up a file from the major’s desk and opened it.
“But correct me if I’m wrong, but this isn’t about personal gain is it?”

“No, sir.”

“No I didn’t think so. Tell me, Mirza, why did
you attempt selection?”

“To join Special Group.”

“Yes, but why?”

Mirza gave the man a strange look. “The group
is a natural progression for any soldier in the Frontier Force.”

“Especially those with a mother who requires
expensive medical treatment.”

“It would seem you already know a lot about me,
sir.”

“Yes, I know you speak four languages. I know
you’re a team player. And most importantly, I know you are loyal. You are also
Muslim.”

Silence filled the room.

“Sir, that’s not something…”

“Go on.”

“It’s something I’ve kept to myself.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of your beliefs?”

He shook his head. “I was worried that if
Special Group knew they wouldn’t let me serve.”

Leaning back in the major’s chair, the captain
smiled. “That’s perfect.”

Mirza eyed him suspiciously. “Perfect?”

“SPEC-B specializes in hunting terrorists. And
quite frankly, most of them are Muslim extremists. I need someone who can blend
in amongst their supporters. I need someone who understands their customs. But
most of all, I need someone who understands how they think. Do you know how
hard it is to find that in a soldier whose loyalty is without question?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve been looking for someone like you for
months. I’ve got an opening in my team, and believe you’re a perfect fit. Now
the question is, are you interested?”

He contemplated the offer for a moment before
nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Now go and get those feet sorted
out. Tomorrow morning, there will be a car here for you.” The captain stood up.
“No need for formalities, Mirza. You can call me, Himesh.”

“It’s that simple, sir?”

“Yes, it is, my good man.” Himesh shook his hand. “Welcome to
SPEC-B.”

CHAPTER
2

NALTAR VALLEY, KASHMIR, PAKISTAN, OCTOBER 1999

“When will our training be over,
Al-Jahiz?” Jawid, a heavily-bearded Afghan, looked up from eating, then back at
the wooden table. He was dressed in a white shalwar kameez, the baggy shirt and
pants popular throughout South Asia, with a heavy shawl draped over his
shoulders. He gestured to the three men sitting beside him. “We’ve been
training here for months. We’re ready. Ready to give our lives. Ready to strike
fear into the infidels.” The others nodded in agreement.

Their leader, the
one called Al-Jahiz, sat at the head of the table, eating his meal. “You are
ready when the Colonel says you are ready,” he said between mouthfuls.

“We
are ready now.”

Mayar
Al-Jahiz lifted his head and scrutinized his team. They were not unlike the men
he had led during the Kargil conflict. Keen, idealistic, and ready to die for
the cause, these men would avenge his slain brothers. They would wipe away the
shame of defeat and strike fear deep into the hearts of the Indian pigs.

He
met the gaze of each man. They all knew him as Al-Jahiz, which meant ‘bug
eyes’, a term of endearment his
Lashkar-e-Taiba
brothers had given him. It was
a name he wore with pride, a badge of honor bestowed on him by men who were now
martyred. This camp, this opportunity for vengeance, had been given to him and
he was not going to waste it by not being prepared. As eager as he was to
strike at the enemy, he would take every opportunity to train his men.

“Patience
Jawid, our time will come.” The Lashkar team leader pushed his empty bowl away
and stood. “Come, the meal is finished. We are to report to the kill house for
additional training.”

Al-Jahiz
led them out of the tent into the crisp morning air. Their training camp was
located in a valley deep within the Himalayan Mountains where it snowed
regularly. As they walked through the camp, the light dusting crunched under
foot.

“Jahiz!”
The sharp call echoed down the valley.

Al-Jahiz
turned to face the camp Commandant who approached from behind the mess tent.
“Yes, sir.”

“A
moment of your time, please.” Colonel Aslam made a habit of appearing when
least expected. Dressed in immaculately pressed olive drab combat fatigues and
sporting a neatly trimmed moustache, he looked every inch the gentleman
officer. But looks could be deceiving. The thin-framed
Inter-Services Intelligence
officer was one of
the deadliest terrorist minds in South Asia. It was Aslam who had designed
Pakistan’s response to the defeat at Kargil. He was personally orchestrating
the campaign of terror that Al-Jahiz and other
Lashkar
militants would wage.

“Jawid,
take the men and report to the kill house,” Al-Jahiz ordered. His
second-in-command gestured for the other three trainees to follow and they
headed down the track toward the training area.

“Walk
with me.” The colonel turned back to the dining area and the camp’s administrative
buildings. Al-Jahiz fell in alongside the professional soldier as they passed a
group of Taliban fighters gathered under a tarpaulin. An
ISI
instructor was
schooling them in the art of improvised explosive device construction. It was a
course that Al-Jahiz’s men had already completed.

“Do
you know why our last attack failed?” Aslam referred to an attempted bombing in
New Delhi that had been foiled by Indian security forces.

“Because
they were not prepared adequately.”

“Correct,
and here.” He gestured to the men training. “Here we will ensure you are
prepared.” He turned to Al-Jahiz and fixed him with a stare. “Your
fedayeen
have progressed well, are they
ready?”

“Yes,
they are ready to give their lives for the cause.”

“And
you?”

“Of
course, if it is Allah’s will.”

The
colonel eyed him thoughtfully and started walking again. “I’ve been watching
you closely.”

An
icy sensation ran up his spine. The colonel was not a man you wanted ‘watching’
you.

“You
are a natural leader, your men respond instantly to your commands and you have
good tactical comprehension.”

The
icy feeling was gone, replaced by a rush of pride.

“This
is why I have selected you to lead a particularly complex operation.”

They
arrived at the center of the camp. Originally a small village, the cluster of
mud walled compounds had been turned into the ISI training team’s accommodation
and headquarters. Additional buildings had also been constructed and included a
rudimentary medical clinic, quartermaster’s store, and a mosque. The area
between the buildings served as a vehicle park.

“I
know you are eager to avenge the brothers you lost at Kargil,” the colonel said
as they walked through the parking lot toward the mosque.

“I
am ready to avenge my brothers. My life belongs to Allah,” Al-Jahiz declared as
they walked through gates of the high walled compound.

Inside
there were four lines of youths sitting cross-legged on carpets chanting lines
from the Koran.

The
colonel switched to English. “You are far more valuable to the cause alive than
dead. We have our disposable weapons.” He nodded at the teenage boys who were
halfway through a four-month program designed to convert them from inquisitive
youths to militant zealots. “What is of greater value to the cause are leaders
who know when and where to deploy such weapons.”

Al-Jahiz
nodded solemnly.

The
colonel took a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and offered one. Al-Jahiz
was slightly taken aback. He took the offering and the two of them smoked as
they watched the youths chant.

“A
young mind is a wonderful thing, Al-Jahiz. It craves information, and like a
sponge soaks up everything around it. If you control what goes into that sponge
you can create anything you want. I have watched you shape the minds of your
men. You have balanced skill with religion and now they are ready for what I
have planned.”

They
finished the cigarettes and the colonel led them to the headquarters building
where a third man greeted them.

“Good
morning, sir,” Karim, a portly Saudi, said with a nod. Like the other trainees,
he was dressed in a white
shalwar
kameez and skullcap.

“Al-Jahiz, you and
Karim are old friends are you not?”

“Yes, sir, we know
each other well.” Both had attended the same madrassa in the
Pakistan-Afghanistan border region. The bug-eyed Pakistani and the overweight
over-indulged Saudi had stuck up an unlikely friendship in spite of their
different backgrounds.

“Excellent.
You will be working together on this mission. Now follow me.”

They
passed through the main office where the colonel’s staff ran the camp’s
administration and descended a set of mud stairs into a basement.

Al-Jahiz
had never been in the headquarters before let alone the lower level. The mud
walls were covered in wooden paneling and pinned to the wood were maps and
photographs of a city he had never seen.

The
colonel picked up a cane and tapped an A3 sized photo with the cane. “This,
Al-Jahiz is your team’s primary target.”

The
bug-eyed terrorist stared at the image. He studied every aspect of the building
pictured and a broad smile spread across his face. They were going to kill
hundreds, possibly even thousands of infidel. It was the opportunity of a
lifetime.

“This—”
The colonel tapped the image again and smirked. “—will repay the Indian
pigs for Kargil.” He took a folder from a table and handed it to Al-Jahiz.
“Here is our secondary target. Her death will be the responsibility of Karim
and his men.”

Al-Jahiz
opened the folder. Inside was a newspaper clipping of an Indian woman dressed
in a business suit. He handed the folder to Karim.

“Karim’s
team has been training for a kidnap and execution.”

“They
are ready, sir,” the Saudi said as he flicked through the folder.

“Good.
Al-Jahiz has overall command. But you and your three men are responsible for
linking up with our asset in New Delhi. You will leave today. Al-Jahiz will
follow a day later. By staggering the insertion, we reduce the chance of
compromise.”

Al-Jahiz
glanced at his friend. Karim, with his dark skin and flabby chin, looked like
an affluent Indian. It also helped that like Al-Jahiz he spoke fluent English.

The
two team leaders listened intently as the colonel briefed them on the finer
details of the plan. Once he was content they had committed it to memory, he
escorted the pair from the headquarters.

“I’ll
ensure everything is ready for your arrival,” said Karim outside.

Al-Jahiz
hugged his friend and kissed him on both cheeks. “It will be good to work with
you, my brother. Travel safely. I will see you in India.”

“Together
we will strike terror into the hearts of the infidel.” Karim’s smile was
infectious.

Al-Jahiz
slapped him on the back. “The streets of Delhi will run red with their blood.”

***

Al-Jahiz strode down the track
toward the kill house. The distinctive chatter of an
AK
reverberated off the mountains. Another weapon joined the
first as he rounded a corner and came into view of the rudimentary facility.

Pakistani
army engineers had carved the range into the side of a hill and built walls out
of concrete. It consisted of a central corridor with rooms branching off on
each side. The ISI instructors had started his team on simple drills. Training
them to attack down corridors and into rooms. As their skills progressed, they
had added additional obstacles and targets.

Al-Jahiz
climbed up a rocky trail to an area where he could observe the training. Jawid,
his heavily-bearded second-in-command was leading the four-man team down the
corridor, his
AK
held ready. A target swung out from the wall. He fired a
burst, knocked it over, and dropped to a knee to change magazines. His fire
team partner, also an Afghan, stood over him covering the corridor as the
second pair provided rear and flank protection. Then, when Jawid was ready, all
four moved forward. Al-Jahiz’s chest swelled with pride as he watched them
engage another target flawlessly. The colonel was right, they were more than
ready.

He
clapped as they exited the range.

“What
did the colonel want?” asked Jawid as he placed his AK on a rack, took off his
vest, and placed it gently on the ground. He was not afraid of damaging the
bulletproof plates. It had none. He was getting into the practice of delicately
handling high explosives.

 
Al-Jahiz waited for all four men to
gather around before he addressed them. “The colonel has given us our mission.
We leave tomorrow.”

“
Allahu-Akhbar
,” Jawid murmured.

“
ALLAHU-AKHBAR
!” all four men screamed
with their fists raised.

Al-Jahiz
hugged them one by one kissing each on the cheeks. “There is much to do, my
brothers. We must load a van and prepare for our journey to New Delhi. Karim
and his men will be going ahead of us to prepare the way.”

“The
target is New Delhi?” Jawid asked.

Al-Jahiz
grinned. “It is brother and it is beyond your wildest dreams. I will give you
more information when we are in India.”

“We
must prepare for martyrdom,” said one of the Pakistanis, referring to their
custom of shaving and washing before a suicide operation.

“No,”
responded Al-Jahiz. “Our identification has been prepared. We are Pakistani
workers going to work on India’s construction sites. Our beards will remain.”
He pointed at Jawid. “Although it would not hurt for you to trim that rug.”

Jawid
grinned, his yellow teeth showing through his thick black beard. “They think we
are coming to build. But this could not be further from the truth.”

“And
when they learn that truth it will be too late for them to do anything other
than weep for their dead.”