THE SILENT HUNT

A NOVEL BY MARK JAMESON Mark Jameson hopes you enjoy this chapter of The Silent Hunt, a thriller based on his real experiences in the CIA after 9/11. To get the entire book or blog with Mark Jameson, go to www.thesilenthunt.com.

Published by Shoot Your Eye Out Publishing http://shootyoureyeout.net Copyright Mark Jamesonl 2011 Cover art : Copyright Mary Gustafson 2011 http://marygustafson.com/ No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either prior written permission of the publisher. The Silent Hunt is a work of fiction. All incidents, dialog, and characters, with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogs concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other aspects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the CIA or any other U.S. Government agency. Nothing in these contents should be construed as asserting or implying U.S. Government authentication of information or Agency endorsement of the authors views. This material has been reviewed by the CIA to prevent disclosure of classified information. ISBN: 978-0-9833011-2-7 Manufactured in the United States of America

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Published by Shoot Your Eye Out Publishing http://shootyoureyeout.net Copyright Mark Jamesonl 2011 Cover art : Copyright Mary Gustafson 2011 http://marygustafson.com/ No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either prior written permission of the publisher. The Silent Hunt is a work of fiction. All incidents, dialog, and characters, with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogs concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other aspects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the CIA or any other U.S. Government agency. Nothing in these contents should be construed as asserting or implying U.S. Government authentication of information or Agency endorsement of the authors views. This material has been reviewed by the CIA to prevent disclosure of classified information. ISBN: 978-0-9833011-2-7 Manufactured in the United States of America

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CHAPTER 1
Tora Bora, Afghanistan (Mid December 2001)

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Tora Bora Wikipedia Commons image. Free license

Mark stepped to the side of the long file and watched as the Afghans marched past. He took the opportunity to arch his back, stretch his worn body, and shift and tighten his pack. David had forced him to pack light, knowing that Mark was still an analyst despite having followed David all over Afghanistan the
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last two months. Mark cupped his hand over his eyes and squinted. Even with that and his Oakley glasses, he could barely see ahead against the late afternoon sunlight glaring off of the packed snow. There he is. About 300 meters ahead, leading the formation at point, stood David, an unassuming and average looking man with thick black hair, not quite six feet tall. His average size belied his wide, sturdy frame and incredible endurance. He was wearing what was pretty much the U.S. military uniform in Afghanistan. Dessert fatigues and boots, a thick bear suit jacket, a load bearing vest with multiple cargo pockets, Nomex flight gloves, a neck warmer that doubled as a face cover, a full beard, a wool cap, and an Afghan blanket draped over his shoulders and pack. David kept the group moving south and upward into the Spin Ghar, the White Dust Mountains, clawing toward the Pak border at a daunting pace. Mark knew that Davids load was heavier than usual. Four days ago theyd lost their Air Force Forward Controller at Milawa, a village near the entrance to the largest of the cave complexes. That was a nasty fight, and the first one in which Mark had seen an American killed in country. In fact it was the first time hed seen an American killed in combat ever, despite all his time in the Balkans with both the Army and the Agency. Mark watched as David crested a ridge and disappeared. As a rule, David liked to carry a lighter load than most typical special ops guys. He wasnt one of those weight lifting nuts who carried a 150 pound pack. He was a solid but thin guy and liked to move fast. Since the battle at Milawa, however, David had been like a man possessed. In addition to his normal load and the radio, he was humping their
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Forward Air Controllers AN/PAQ-1 Laser Target Designator, which looked like a stubby green rifle with a giant scope, and he was still moving faster than even he normally did, up the most wicked terrain theyd seen in country yet. Mark recalled following David through the mountainous tri-border area of Albania, Macedonia, and Kosovo. That was nothing like this. Before Milawa, when the team headed out of Jalalabad toward this range, they had joked about how foreign this terrain looked. David likened it quite simply to Mars with snow. Mark replied that it was more like Planet of the Apes, reviving a joke they had shared on many occasions in Northern Albania. Milawa was a mile above sea level. They were now nearly another mile further up, over 9,000 feet. They had been lucky so far that it hadnt snowed. The old accumulation here was surprisingly lighter than it was below Milawa, but still more than enough to slow their progress. The wind, steep terrain, snow, and thin air didnt seem to be slowing David down though. It had been a little over 24 hours since the transmission from Sam, and from that moment David pushed the team like never before. Im no spec-ops guy, but I know enough to know that you dont move this fast in the mountains. You move slow, methodically, and take lots of breaks. Normally David would be circling back, making sure the team was together, but he just kept pressing up the mountain pass ahead, heavy load and all. Mark watched the last Afghan Muhjahidin, or Muhj for short, march by with a thick blanket over his shoulders and his turban wrapped around his face against the freezing wind, waited until he was 25 meters ahead, and then took up the rear of the
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formation. Am I watching out for the team or just falling behind? Youre tactical dumbass. Stop thinking about everything and pay attention. Mark couldnt help himself though; this was the way his brain worked. He had always been kind of a paradox. Too smart to be just a soldier, but a good enough soldier to be more than an analyst. Thats why David and I click. He looked ahead and tried to pick out David again up the 30 degree ravine littered with boulders, but couldnt. He did see two of Davids groupies, as he liked to joke. The four Tajiks had been on Davids team since theyd gotten to Northern Afghanistans Panjshir Valley in October. They were good soldiers. Bounding one at a time, watching each other, and trying to keep up with David and cover his rear. Pasha must be up there as well, but Mark couldnt pick him out either. Then he saw the gully off to the right and realized Pasha and the other two groupies were probably running parallel to David and screening the flank. In between the groupies and Mark were the Muhj, thirteen all together. They were tough men who knew these mountains, to be sure, but they were new to the team and a big unknown. They had been assigned to David by one of the two feuding tribal warlords in Jalalabad. Marks mind wondered back to a report he wrote for the team before they moved from Panjshir to Jalalabad. In June Bin Ladin had attended a huge meeting at the Jalalabad Islamic studies center with hundreds of regional tribal leaders, including this groups chief and the chiefs from the Parachinar region due south of us, across the border. At the meeting Bin Ladin had distributed envelopes with $500-$10,000 each, depending on the size of the tribe.
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Despite this obvious conflict of interest, these Afghans had been good guides and helped the team cover wide swaths of territory. Still, they had been pretty conservative under fire, particularly hanging back at Milawa and letting the Americans do the fighting. And here they were hanging back again. Its possible they think David is just nuts, charging off towards the Pak border with no clear explanation. Mark could understand their hesitation. Normally they didnt cross this sort of open terrain, with so little cover, in broad daylight. A goat herder could see us miles away, and probably has by now. Plus the radios were less reliable up here. Still, he trusted Davids instincts. He was hot on the trail of something, and it didnt take too much imagination to figure what was driving his urgency. He must know something he hasnt told me. Marks thoughts loitered on David while he tried to match the pace of the last Afghan. Mark Jameson and David Adjukian were two misfits whose professional lives had intertwined over the last three years. Like Mark, David was a former Army officer. David had been a Long Range Surveillance Detachment commander and was on track for Special Forces training and placement, but had become deeply involved in hunting the top war criminals in Bosnia. In the process hed worked closely with the Agency and eventually switched over to the Agencys Special Operations Group. SOG was a small unit of the Agencys Directorate of Operations. The DO was dominated by Operations Officers, better known as Case Officers or C/Os in the Agencys slang, who recruited spies. SOG, populated almost entirely by ex-Special Forces soldiers, was small and disconnected from the rest of
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the DO by a different mission and different culture. Like the rest of the C/Os, the SOG officers go through the same year long course at the Farm learning to recruit foreign spies, collect intelligence, and conduct surveillance and detection techniques to protect C/Os and spies from exposure. But the SOG officers remained soldiers at their core and were shunned by the rest of the DO as a throwback to Cuba, Vietnam, and the earliest, darkest days of the Cold War. In 1998, however, the Director of Central Intelligence began to rebuild SOG as one of many steps to counter the growing threat from Al-Qaida. This small group, plused-up with active duty Special Forces soldiers, had pretty much run the war in Afghanistan the last three months, which was an enormous embarrassment for the Defense Department. Even now, there were maybe 1,300 U.S. military personnel in Afghanistan at best. Within the SOGs clique of ex-special operators, David stood out even further. Mark remembered the time in Albania when David told him, Sure, I served with Delta in Somalia when I was a Ranger. But I was a young soldier then. Having gone to Airborne and Ranger school is like getting through elementary school to these guys. Having fought with them against the Skinnies puts me maybe at 8th grade level. These guys are all Masters and Doctorates in their craft. Although there was an element of truth to this, Mark noted at the time that David was being unduly critical of himself, as he typically was. Having never officially trained for or joined SF, David would have remained an outsider at SOG if not for Jimmy Wong. Jimmy was a legendary SOG member with extensive history in Vietnam and beyond. He saw David as a clean slate, uncorrupted by recent
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SF training, and took David under his wing for his last year before retirement. Then in 1999 David came into his own right during the Kosovo War. During a key battle on the Kosovo-Albanian border, David ignored standing orders by assuming direct control of Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) units. David combined on the ground leadership with masterfully coordinated air strikes to deliver the KLA their only major tactical victory over Serbian forces, which in turn helped to break the Serbs will to resist the wider NATO air campaign. After that, Davids SOG career took off, and was further enhanced by helping to stop two more Balkan wars in their early days and taking down an Al-Qaida cell just prior to its attack on the U.S. Embassy in Albania. Like David, Mark thought of himself as a fish out of water in the CIAs Directorate of Intelligence, or DI. Mark had also been an Army officer, and also in Bosnia. But Mark had been an M1 tank platoon leader, a very unchallenging job in a country with few functioning roads or bridges. Mark had earned a Masters in International Affairs from Georgetown prior to entering the Army and was concerned that it might not be until the tail end of a full Army career that his intellect and educational background would be fully challenged, so hed sought out an interview with the Agency through an old professor. During the interview he was surprised to learn that the DI was desperately hurting for military analysts, particularly ones with actual military experience. Plus the Agency was gearing up for the coming war in Kosovo and Balkan experience was at a premium. The wheels in Marks head kept spinning as though the process was generating fuel for his legs. He har dly noticed as his legs continued to
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methodically climb the thirty degree slope and his eyes and brain kept cursory track of three or four of the Afghans to his immediate front. How did I end up here, of all places? Im not an SOG guy, although I bet David will try to get me to switch over when we finish this deployment. After all, in the last two years, Mark had spent more time with David than any of his DI colleagues in Washington. Mark first came to work with him at the tail end of the Kosovo war, providing SOG and the military with real-time analytical support in the field on the KLA and the withdrawing Serb forces. Mark returned to Kosovo in 2000 and 2001 to continue this role as off-shoots of the KLA first tried to restart the Kosovo war and then export it to Southern Serbia and Macedonia. In Marks mind it was the perfect job. He still got to enjoy the fun side of the military and at the same time was writing for the Presidents Daily Brief straight from the field. Mark clearly had a knack for understanding the cellular structure, leadership, and logistics of an insurgency. So when 9/11 hit, David had once again convinced the DI to let Mark work directly from the field. And once again, Mark had consumed every bit of information the SOG and SF teams brought in on Taliban and Al-Qaida units, piecing together the logistics, profiling the leaders and anticipating their moves, developing prioritized air targets, and finally leading them here, Tora Bora. Actually Tora Boras back there, he corrected himself as he thought about Milawa, now seven or eight miles behind him. Then his thoughts, and eyes, drifted up the mountain and forward. So where are we going David? Ive always trusted you, watched your infallible instincts, your unparalleled drive, but something feels different this time. Are we actually heading into Pakistan? Are you
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thinking straight up there? Are you acting on orders or on your own, with us in tow? *** David broke stride for a brief moment, swung his head to the rear, left, and right, then kept moving. While moving his mind processed the three pictures. The terrain on the left is a complete bitch, pretty much impassable. On the right he couldnt see Pasha, but one look at the contour of the ravine over there told him that Pasha was probably keeping pace, maybe 200 meters behind. Behind David two of the Tajiks were really trying to keep pace, but were falling behind. The other two must be with Pasha. That was probably for the best, although David would prefer them to ignore the flanks and catch up to him. Itll only get worse until we peak this ridge. Actually, it might get worse then. David was already planning on sprinting down the opposite slope as much as the terrain would allow. He continued to process his rear picture. The Muhj were moving in an orderly fashion and maintaining their own local security, but they were too slow. I shouldnt have brought them this far. We might need the extra firepower, but I dont think theyre going to keep up. Theyd been fairly worthless on the offense at Milawa. They did watch the flanks though, and thats probably what I should do with them here. Somewhere up here Ill find a place for them to hunker down. We may need them to keep our withdrawal corridor open. Will they even stick around though? Its pretty much a crap shoot. Then David processed the last piece of the rear picture. Mark was all the way at the rear. Thats a little surprising. Was he keeping an eye on the Afghans, or just falling behind? Maybe both. David
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continually had to remind himself that, although Mark was in good enough shape and could generally keep up the pace, he had no special ops background. He had phenomenal instincts though. Over the last two years David had learned to trust his judgment and analytical capabilities complicity. So does Mark have the same worry about the Afghans that I do? It was because of the Afghans that David hadnt shared his full intentions with the rest of the team, even Mark, since pushing out of Milawa. I wish I had time to go over the radio call with Mark. David wiped his brow, pushed his thick matted hair underneath his wool cap, sucked in a deep breath, and picked up his pace again. He was pushing to crest this ridgeline before the hour was up. He hardly noticed the biting cold wind that was wiping around him from the top of the mountain. Like Mark, his mind worked on overdrive to fuel his legs. In one corner of his mind he was still processing the rear picture and mulling over his observations of the Muhj. In another he dwelled on his relationships with Mark and Pasha and what lay ahead. In yet another corner, he replayed the radio call that came in just a few hours after they had started moving into the mountains above Milawa. After the initial fight against the 55th Brigade, Al-Qaidas only true combat unit, things had fallen into several days of stalemate as people above Davids pay grade attempted to negotiate a mass surrender, hoping to get Bin Ladin. David and his fellow Jawbreaker team leaders knew that this was folly, punctuated by the B-52s and 15,000 pound daisy cutters occasionally hammering away at barren hillsides. The Tora Bora cave complex was dug 350 yards into the base of a granite mountain
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and had fortified hydro-electric generators and ventilation system. Without waiting for direction, David already knew his team, Justice, with its fresh Afghan legs, was in the best shape to start circling the massive cave complex from the outside and try to catch Al-Qaida fleeing for Pakistan out of the backdoors. A couple of other teams tried to probe into the complex through some of the ancillary entrances. One had gotten lucky. The call came in from Sam, another SOG operator. Sam was former Marine Force Recon, and a Lebanese-American who was probably the best Arabic translator on the teams. Hed sent an alert to any team leaders who could receive his signal out of the cave. David and one other responded. Sam advised that his team, Avengers, had overpowered an AlQaida barricade and were moving into the complex. They picked up a Motorola hand held in the cave. Sam was monitoring and had just heard a transmission from the Shaykh apologizing to his warriors that he had to leave and praising them for their brave stand against the Americans. Sam stated excitedly, Theres no doubt in my mind. Its UBL, and hes leaving the area right now! David thought about it. If anyone would know the voice of UBL, the Agencys slang for Usama Bin Ladin, it was Sam. He had translated many of UBLs tapes back at Langley. Plus he knew that the Shaykh was not only one of UBLs code names, but the one Al-Qaida rank-in-file were using almost exclusively after 9/11. David had listened on as another team relayed Sams message to Mother Ship near Jalalabad. David didnt wait for follow-on orders. Hed thought, This is my chance to make things right, and
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he felt a burning drive he hadnt felt in years. Hed fought his ass off in Kosovo in 99, but after that hed felt like he was losing his sense of purpose, even though things were going very well professionally. Just prior to 9/11 he was mulling over plans to resign and join one of his old NCOs who was now instructing Saudi Special Forces. Hed do that for a few years; add to his already growing nest-egg of untouched deployment money, then get away. David didnt know the technical term, but ever since Mogadishu and then Han P. in 96, he had this phobia about being constricted by large groups of people . . . a sort of claustrophobia. So he was going to buy a boat or a mountain cabin and get away from everyone. Then 9/11 changed everything, bringing back a sense of purpose. Hed only been back from Macedonia six weeks, having successfully turned off the latest Balkan war. That night David chased down Doug Monroe, Marks boss. Ill need Mark again. Are you going to give me a hard time? Shouldnt you wait until we know who did this? That bullshits for TV. We know its Al-Qaida. Theyve been building up to this for years. Were going to go get em. Greg is briefing the Director in the morning. We can be in Uzbekistan setting up by Saturday and a week after that well have four full teams in Afghanistan. I need Mark. Come on David. It made sense in the Balkans, which is why I never objected. But Marks not a counterterrorism analyst and hasnt been tracking AlQaida the way you two have been all over the Albanians the last couple years.
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OK. Just point me to a CT analyst with a prior military background. Or one thats even spent a month in the field with us. If CTC had any analysts worth a shit they would have caught this anyway. They tried, Monroe responded a little weakly. The Agencys Counterterrorism Center, or CTC, had been warning the Director since spring, and he in turn warning the White House, that a big one was coming. But they never could pin down where or what. Maybe. But those guys are strategic anyways. Were going to dive right into these Snags and Im going to need a tactical guy. You know nobody can read insurgent logistics and underground cell networks like Mark, especially real time as we get stuff in. Think about it. In Afghanistan theyre not a terrorist group, theyre a guerilla force. And thats how were going to beat them, by drawing them into a real fight in the field. Plus I know for a fact that CTC has never done an order of battle analysis on Al-Qaidas actual military capability. You know Mark could do that. Yeah, he sure could. Doug paused. If you convince him, its OK with me. But you really owe me one after this. Five days later David was in Tashkent, with Mark. In addition to all of Marks normal benefits, luck would have it that one of his closest friends from graduate school was a C/O at Tashkent station. Marks friend lent the team one of their local contacts to help them make logistical preparations. Pasha, and his older brother Yuri, were Russians, not Uzbeks. Ex-Soviet Army officers who had served in Afghanistan and had stayed behind in Uzbekistan when the Soviet Union disintegrated, they were now successful mercenaries and gun runners.
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David would never forget their first meeting when Pasha introduced himself and handed David two New York Yankees baseball caps with the white NY blackened with magic marker. One for me, one for you. I go with you, yes? David took an instant liking to Pasha and gave him the chance. Pasha was effective as a guide and local procurement officer, but David was surprised to find what a good and instinctual soldier he was, especially for a Russian. Mark often joked that he was the Russian David. Not long after that the CIA had started its invasion of Afghanistan in the Panjshir Valley, under the protection of the Northern Alliance. There the Alliance had provided each team with a small group of seasoned Tajik soldiers, the groupies. So now I have an efficient and trustworthy team, a nice change. But his mind drifted back to the new Afghans from Jalalabad. They were Pashtuns and soldiers for the local warlord, who was likely supporting the U.S. just so he wouldnt come out on the losing side. Or for the money. Or both. He had probably been supporting the Taliban two weeks ago. Suddenly, Davids mind flashed back to the rear picture. Something wasnt right. Mark seemed to be falling back behind the Afghans. What had he seen? David quickly counted the number of Afghans in the picture. Six. Where were the other seven? Concealed by the terrain? Perhaps, but David knew something was wrong. He stopped for a brief moment and stared at the summit of the ridge. So close, two hundred meters maybe. Then in one motion he blew out a deep breath, spun on his heal, unclipped the D-ring that fastened his M-4 carbine with holographic site tightly to his chest, and headed downhill at a trot. It was time to pull the team back together and take stock of things.
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*** Mark wasnt sure when exactly, but it dawned on him that he had been dropping further and further behind the Afghans, yet it wasnt because he was tired. If anything, he felt like he was regaining a little strength. Mark realized it was because the Afghans had been slowing down and he was subconsciously marking time behind them. But what else was wrong? Then it hit him. Theyre not all here. That doesnt make sense if theyve been slowing down. Just then he heard the sound of AK-47s, up and to the right, in Pashas direction. First one, then a second and third. Almost simultaneously Mark heard several more long AK bursts straight up the mountain, in Davids direction. Marks glance swung back to the Afghans to his front and he saw two turning back in his direction in a single motion. Mark didnt wait to see the rest. He turned and did a combination sprintstumble down the hill five meters to a large boulder. The downhill motion and weight of his pack slammed him into the five foot high rock and brought him to an abrupt halt. He spun off and stumbled a few more feet, temporarily putting the large rock between himself and the Afghans. While moving he did a quick assessment. Some of the Afghans had dropped out of sight and there was firing somewhere around Pasha. As soon as that was audible, there was another spurt of fighting in Davids direction. When these bursts were heard, the rear Afghans didnt look toward either firefight. Instead they started looking to the rear, for me. The Afghans turned on us. Or were never with us to begin with. But why? No time for that, now. Figure out what to do. He clutched the barrel of his M-4 with his left hand while his right hand forcefully pulled at the
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release clip for his pack. He pushed off the boulder and continued down the hill. If they went after David and Pasha first, and were successful, I cant fight them. I have to run. As his pack fell away he felt something rip through his right forearm. He tried to ignore it and continue running down the hill without losing his balance. Marks mind continued the rapid conversation with itself. I need more space between them and me. Ive got to move fast and use gravity to my advantage, but not too fast. If I twist my ankle Im dead. He padded the ammo pockets in his cargo vest and did a quick mental inventory. Mark had made another ten meters and then he heard it. Two sharp, crisp shotgun blasts, followed immediately by a long burst from an M-4, sliced through the din of the overlapping AK-47s. It was David, and what he called the Jimmy Special. Mark had seen the maneuver once before, in Macedonia. Find the blind spot, close in fast and put two quick shotgun bursts into the center of mass of a large group, then sweep with the carbine while moving straight through. It was the perfect combination of Davids speed and sense of awareness with Jimmy Wongs renowned skill with a shotgun. So the good news was David was in the fight and probably just took out several Afghans. The bad news was it was far up the hill. Mark knew he was on his own for the moment, but maybe not for long. He looked back up the mountain, then off to the left. He was still out of site of the closest group of Afghans. If I find a spot to hunker down up on the left, they wont be able to flank me, but I also wont be able to run if I need to. He quickly shouldered his carbine and started climbing up a small ravine in that direction. At the top of the cut, Mark settled on the top of a boulder that looked
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down on the clearing he had just come from and the next one up the mountain, but nothing more. He retrieved his M-4, laid out four ammo clips on the rock next to him, and proceeded to scan his two fields of fire. After a very slow minute, he could hear the sound of at least two pairs of feet on broken rock, just beyond the first clearing. The Afghans werent sure where he was, but had an idea and were trying to flank him. Mark hoped they thought he had gone further and would venture into the clearing. He could take down at least one and force the others to pause. He took aim at the spot where he figured they were most likely to emerge and tried to slow his breathing. Suddenly the silence was again shattered by the roar of two more blasts from Davids shotgun. Three Afghans came sprinting into the clearing where Mark was aiming and he squeezed off three shots, but missed. He started to shift his aim to the right to try again when a long AK-47 burst ripped through the three men from the south side of the clearing. Realizing the Muhj were caught in a crossfire, Mark flipped his selector switch to Auto and held the trigger down, walking his entire magazine into the trio. He quickly grabbed another magazine and reloaded. When he looked back up, he saw Pasha run at the fallen trio from the south side of the clearing. At five meters away he swept the group on the ground with another quick AK burst and kept moving to the north. Then Mark heard the slightest noise in the rocks behind him. In a panic he rolled onto his back and swung his rifle in the direction of what he had assumed to be impassable terrain. Careful. It was David. Jesus!
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David leaned out of a small crevice and stepped through. Sorry. Had to be sure we got them all. How the hell did you get up here that fast? I heard your shotgun down there just a minute ago? David shrugged his shoulders, and then pointed at Marks arm. You, OK? Yeah, something on my pack caught my sleeve. Looks like Pashas OK. How about the groupies? Hashim and his brother are dead. Well have to check with Pasha on the others. David added with an emotionless face. Lets go police them up; we need to get moving fast. David, wait a minute. A lot of people just died. What the hell is going on? Obviously were trying to catch bad guys coming out the backdoor, but youre acting weird. And you havent given me so much as a verbal FRAGO about what were doing. I . . . Not now, David cut him off in a low but stern voice. Weve got to move fast to the top. He pointed to the top of the ridge, where he had been a few minutes earlier. If you can keep up with me, Ill bring you up to speed. With that he stepped over Mark, sat on the edge of the rock, jumped down into the clearing, and started running towards the top of the ridge. Shit. Mark watched him for a second, then slid down and started running to catch up. *** The other two Tajiks were dead also. Mark and Pasha had practically sprinted to keep up with David as he pressed for the top of the ridge. They were now just a few feet from the top. Mark had thought very seriously about leaving his pack behind. Now he was glad he hadnt. He was going to need the extra water.
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When are you going to tell me whats going on, Mark managed spit out as he sucked in the extremely thin air. He was surprised when Pasha, also struggling for breath, answered. Wait. We soon are there. Mark looked ahead and David had finally stopped at a small cut in the ridge, already scanning ahead with the M-4s scope. Seconds later, Pasha and Mark reached David. Mark looked down and was stunned. Instead of the steep downward slope that he expected to correspond with the monster they had just climbed, in front of them was a gentle rolling valley, less than a mile across. David pointed to the far side and looked at Pasha. Over there, Ive got a break in the ridge. Is that it? Pasha just smiled a toothy grin and nodded. Goddamn it guys, what?! Mark struggled as he sucked in air. Are we in Pakistan? David scanned the valley one last time and then started down a small path into the valley. Over his shoulder he said, Come on Mark, figure it out. Pasha smiled at Mark and gestured for him to go first, Puzhalsta. Mark filled his lungs and started after David. OK, lets see. Pasha told you about this place. Which means you didnt know. Which means its not on the maps, and not coming from Mothership. This valley is like an uncharted island in the middle of the Pacific. So Im guessing this is like a way station between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Youre hoping to catch some of the guys coming out of the back door here. On their way to Pakistan. Which is there. He pointed to the break atop the far side of the valley. David didnt look up. Good job. Weve got to keep moving in order to get in front of them. Were
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going to hit them just past the break, where they think theyre safe. So keep up. Hold on. Where they think theyre safe . . . in Pakistan. Which means well be in Pakistan. You wont get any air support. Even if there are 500 of them there. Not five hundred. Just one. Mark and Pasha exchanged surprised looks. Pasha spoke first. Bin Ladin? How do you know this? Mark joined in. We havent talked to any locals since Milawa. Did our teams find something in the caves? Yeah, they did. We know UBL survived the fight. We know when he left the complex, and approximately how far into the complex he was when he left. From that time and place I did a map recon for escape routes to Pakistan. Routes where the B-52s werent plastering the ground. Then I checked the maps with Pasha. There were only two routes that made sense, one of which went right this way. Thats when he told me about this place. And the Afghans knew about it too, Mark added. They came to the same conclusion, this is the only way UBL would come, so they jumped us. David stopped briefly, turned, and looked as though for once he didnt have all the answers. Yeah. I think thats right. Fucking Snags. Davids jaw muscles clenched tight, he spun around and started jogging down the slope. Snags. It was ethnic slur from the early Bosnia days. Like the Skinnies in Somalia or Gooks in Vietnam. It wasnt a phrase David used often or lightly. Mark wondered just where Davids head was. ***
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Fifteen minutes later the three were still jogging and were already half way up the opposite slope. They were making good time, but sooner or later they had to rest. They had been on the move non-stop for several hours now, they were at high risk of altitude sickness, and as sunset approached it was growing exceedingly cold. David stopped and dropped to his knee and took a hard look at the ground in front of him. Ive got a fresh hoof print here. Shit. With that he took off uphill at a full run. Mark and Pasha exchanged concerned looks and chased David up the broken path. Mark was fighting to suck in each breath, fighting the urge to vomit the little bit of water that was on his stomach and suppressing the image in his mind of his lungs bursting from the strain. That was to say nothing of his sore knees, which were slowing down as if they were wrapped tightly with hundreds of rubber bands. He saw David stop at the top and crouch behind a large rock, at the same time flashing a clenched fist at Mark and Pasha. Both men saw Davids fist and simultaneously dropped to a crouch. David clawed his way on top of a boulder and out of sight. A moment later his face reappeared, followed by his forearm. He silently waved them forward. A minute later Mark and Pasha were on their bellies atop the large flat boulder, trying to catch their breath and low crawling up to where David was also on his belly, peering down a steep drop off into a small valley below. Beyond the valley, Mark could just barely make out a much steeper drop. Beyond that and far below appeared a wide plain, shrouded in mist. Mark pulled his map out of his pants cargo pocket, studied it, and then eyeballed the terrain around them. He returned to the map and zeroed in
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on Zaran peak. Were here. He looked through the mist, which must be a light snowfall just beyond the small valley in front of them. On the other side of the range should be the village of Mulla Bagh, he said out loud. The city of Parachinar is less than 10 ks past that. David gently kicked Marks boot to get his attention, held his finger to his lips, and then pointed the same finger to their right. Starting just below the boulder, there was a narrow winding path moving away from them and slowly downward into the valley. Davids finger continued along the trail, pointing it out to the others. About a quarter of a mile away, the trail doubled back towards them, disappeared behind some rocks for a little while, then reappeared and eased down into the valley floor below. Davids finger shifted back to the area where the trail disappeared, then his finger turned up in the universal wait a minute sign. He focused his binos back on the trail Whatever David was showing them, Mark didnt see it. He was lightheaded and still queasy, so he figured he was missing the important thing here. Then they all saw it. Four men, carrying AKs and dressed in a combination of military uniforms and shalwar kameez, traditional Pashtun long shirts and baggy pants, in multiple layers against the freezing winds, walked out from behind the rocks, heading down the trail to the valley floor. They were followed by someone on horseback, and then another three men. David stabbed his finger in the air at the horse. There! he said in a harsh whisper. In one swift motion he shoved the binos into Marks hands and barked Spot under his breath, while shifting back away from the cliff up onto one knee and pulling a map from inside his coat. With renewed energy, Mark
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turned back to the trail and focused the binos on the horse. There he was, the worlds now most infamous man. Unmistakable. Usama Bin Ladin. Marks mind began to spin in a thousand directions. Pasha eagerly tugged the binos away, allowing Mark to turn back to David. Thats Pakistan. I mean this is Pakistan. Are we inside Pakistan? Mark stuttered. Dont slow me down, David warned. Give me a spot. But think. The Air Force will know. They wont come in. David looked up for a second, focused. They have to! Its the whole reason were here. For once. Mark wasnt sure what the last comment meant, but David had already gone back to work. He reached over his shoulder and pulled the removable keypad from the AN/PRC117F radio. The Prick 117 was a sixteen pound backpack radio, much bigger than a lot of other SF radios, but it was a great piece of equipment and worth the weight for the team. It operated near simultaneously in VHF, UHF, and SATCOM, with voice and data encryption and embedded interface with the Global Positioning System, or GPS, constellation of satellites. It allowed them to switch from local command channels to satellite comms with little effort. David reached down to his belt and switched off his DAGR GPS receiver, so that when he keyed the radio handset it would not transmit their location. He then punched in a quick sequence on the keypad while his eyes focused on the map, spread across the rock between his knees. This is Jawbreaker element, requesting immediate AWACS assistance. Over. Less than three seconds went by.
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Jawbreaker, this is Sentinel 2, identify and verify. Over. This was expected. Tango, tango, one, two, six. Identifier, Justice. Over. Confirmed Juliet-Justice. Standby. Justice, you are listed as missing. We have instructions to fix your position and relay you to your command element. Please comply, over. Mark saw Davids jaw muscles tense and his hand tighten around the handset. Listen close Sentinel. No time for bullshit. I am moving fast and have potential target solution for primary target Alpha-One-One. Say again, I am tracking Alpha-One-One and need immediate assistance. Over. Mark watched Davids face closely. So far it was only a lie of omission, but how much would it grow in the next two minutes? Standby Justice. The AWACS operators previously cool voice had a slight quiver. Justice, I have two F/A-18s on standby. Give me a vector, over. Roger. Echo Papa, eight-fife-one-niner. Over. Mark crept closer to David. It was only a four digit grid coordinate, a square kilometer. It wasnt a lie, but David knew their location much more precisely and wasnt providing it. He was trying to tell them he was on the border, but not over it. Justice, can you provide an eight digit grid? Over. Negative, moving fast and GPS is nonfunctional. Over. David shot Mark a sideways glance. Translation, shut up. Justice, be advised you are right on top of the Pakistani border. Can you provide more precise
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coordinates . . . or verify target identification and location? Over. Target visually confirmed, and still in visual contact. Say again, Alpha-One-One confirmed. Target is moving due east. Over. Again, he wasnt lying, technically they were moving east, but on the wrong side of the border. OK Justice. F-18s are inbound hot from your west, ETA two mikes. I am going to have them pull up short and do a slow roll, until we get the target nailed. I need you to get me an eight or 10 digit grid ASAP. Do you have ability to paint? Over. David unslung the stubby laser rifle. Roger, carrying AN/PAQ-1. Over. He turned to Pasha. Spot. I have him. Four -fifty meters, moving southeast. They have three hundred meters to valley floor. Wait. Listen. They all heard a dull hum. Not choppers. Not the fighters. There, said Pasha, pointing to the far left side of the valley. Three tan Land Rover SUVs had entered the valley floor from some unknown point and were moving towards the bottom of the trail. Shit. A pained look just came over Davids face, as if life had just dealt him the most unfair and personal of blows. Pasha, keep your eyes on the target. Mark, watch the wheels. Sentinel 2, this is Justice. Over. Go ahead Justice. Target is moving too fast for a paint and I now have enemy ground vehicles en route to assist target. If we dont move fast, were going to lose him. Sorry Justice. Weve called in your Alpha One One. National Command Authority has not authorized
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a change in the ROE for your geographic location. Unless you give me a solid fix in the upper half of eight fife one niner, I cant send the birds in. Davids jaw muscles tensed again and a look of panic briefly swept his face. He exhaled hard, swung his eyes back to the horse, then swept his glance back up the trail towards his own position. Without a word he slipped the radio off his back, put it and the laser rifle down on the rock, and bounded to the rear of the boulder. Where are you going? Mark asked with a bit of panic. Stay here. And dont talk to him. He pointed at the radio as he slid out of sight. A moment later Pasha tapped Marks shoulder and pointed about 25 meters down the trail. David was sprinting down the trail with his carbine in both hands. Mark watched David in disbelief, while Pasha swung the binos back to the valley floor. They are too far for him to catch. Hes not running down there. Hes stopping. Mark corrected. For sniper? Nyet, he is too far. Look there. If he waits till they reach the bottom, the trail doubles back almost underneath him. Da. Just then, Davids voice reached them on their head-mikes. It surprised Mark as David had been running silent for nearly a day. Spot. Pasha focused the binos on the large rock David was climbing, then down the vertical drop to the valley floor. He studied for a moment. Maybe 500 meters. Is possible, but not good for M-4. And there is much wind here. No answer from David.
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We cant help him, can we? Nyet. Unless you make for Air Force to change mind. Mark glanced over his shoulder at the abandoned radio and laser rifle and considered the option. Neither he nor Pasha knew what they were doing with the LTD the way David did. No, not an option. Watch the target. Ill keep an eye on David. Mark aimed his M-4 scope at David, being extra conscious to make sure his finger was not on the trigger. David was low crawling on his forearms to the forward edge of the large rock. Mark could see his face at this range. He looked tense and calm at the same time. The trucks stopping. The horse almost there. Mark fought the urge to watch Bin Ladin and kept his focus on David. His heart was pounding and time slowed. He heard nothing but the wind whistling over the ridge. He felt it on his ears and face, and for the first time in a couple hours he realized how bitterly cold it was. He studied Davids face. He watched David take a deep breath, then exhale hard, and take his final aim. This was it. Come on, please. He wanted it bad, for his country, but maybe more for his friend, the tortured soul. The shot range through the valley, like the first man made sound these rocks had heard in a thousand years. David hardly moved. No hit, said Pasha. Then with some excitement, Bin Ladin is down . . .but no. He jump down. The men surrounding him. Suddenly Pasha tensed and barked to both David on the radio and Mark next to him. The trucks, this is Pakistani soldiers!
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Mark swung his rifle from David to the valley floor and zeroed his scope in on the Land Rovers. Three men in dark green forest camouflage with German G-3 rifles were rushing towards the huddle of Muhj around Bin Ladin. Simultaneously Mark heard the M-4 quick fire drum beat to his right and watched as two of the men shielding Bin Ladin fell. With another long burst one of the Pakistanis fell on his face and the windshield of the first Land Rover imploded. The other two Pakistanis returned fire on full auto, but could not elevate high enough to reach David. It provided just enough cover, however, for the remaining Muhj to scoop up Bin Ladin and head for the trucks. Mark heard movement and turned to see Pasha scrambling back along the path to Afghanistan with the radio and laser range finder over one shoulder. Mark turned back and saw David on one knee, just finished reloading and now re-aiming his M-4 into the valley. Mark heard another long burst as he refocused his scope on the valley floor. The Land Rovers had started up and were pulling out. Only the one Pakistani and two Muhj lay still on the ground. David, it was Pasha on the head mike, it is Pakistani soldiers, we must go back now. Mark looked back over his shoulder, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Pasha passing through the cut in the ridgeline, back into Afghanistan. Another long M-4 blast brought Marks attention back around to David. David had just finished emptying his third clip into the valley. Mark looked down there again. The trucks were almost gone, and certainly out of range of the M-4. What now? David answered by standing straight up, throwing his carbine into the valley like a javelin, and
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letting loose with a guttural roar. A deep, anguished growl which he aimed at the now empty valley like it was his last weapon. Mark watched his face in the scope with a slight twinge of horror. Davids face was twisted in anguish. His taught jaw muscles and angry teeth gave him the look of a skeleton, primeval. David had always been distant, his own island. But now he looked lost, an animal among men. Both men were shaken loose from their stupor by the sound. First the rush over their heads, a combination of a whistle and a whoosh, where it logically shouldnt have been. Then the crash, just behind the ridge, in Afghanistan. Mark wasnt sure what to think, but his mind began to whir through all the possibilities, almost unaware that his body was moving automatically, crawling off the large rock and following Pasha up the trail back to the border. He was almost to the pass in the ridgeline before he realized he was moving. Then, like a carpet pulled out from under him, the adrenaline that was carrying him rushed away from his legs and he crumpled towards the ground. An iron grip caught his armpit and propelled him forward. Marks feet caught their rhythm again and he looked over his shoulder to see David pushing him. His face had returned from anguished, angry animal back to its nor mal state of intense determination. How ...? David sensed Marks confusion. Mountain troops. Probably from Kashmir. David responded. Theyre the only ones who could get real arty up this high. Fuckers exchange 105s with the Indians on top of the Himalayas.
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David. Are you alright? Mark said with more concern than his ragged state should have allowed. David ignored the question, but Mark saw the pain of what had just happened lingering in his face. Weve got to get out of here. Pasha, sitrep. There was no reply. Pasha, come in. Nothing. Shit. Can you move on your own? Mark simply nodded affirmative. David pulled the riot gun from the sheath on the back of his combat vest and sprinted forward. Mark kept moving at a trot, then stopped and crouched when he heard the third incoming shell. It impacted just beyond the ridge. He quickly took in his surroundings. He was now alone, and just a handful of meters inside Pakistan. They had just missed what might have been the only shot anyone would ever have at Bin Ladin. And now they were on the run and in very serious trouble. With that, he took a deep breath and crossed back into Afghanistan. Mark was nearly to the floor of the hidden valley before he saw them. The artillery barrage had not stopped, roughly two to three shots a minute. It appeared that the Paks knew about the hidden valley and were blindly shelling the teams exit. Mark approached David and Pasha lying on their stomachs behind some scrub brush. David didnt even acknowledge him. Then he saw that Pasha was unconscious. Davids hands were moving furiously over the radio. Damn, its shot. Pasha? Mark asked. He caught a ton of shrapnel from behind, though the radio might have saved him. What now? We gotta keep moving. Were in no shape to mix it up with Pakistani regulars, much less mountain
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commandos. Davids eyes kept scanning the valley. Theyre not ahead of us. Doesnt mean they wont pursue though. And now we cant call for help. Not that it would do a damn bit of good anyway. What do we do with him? Were not leaving him. I shot him full of morphine. Were going to have to carry him. Mark gave him a look full of doubt. I know, youre spent. Strip down, just ammo, and water. Drop everything else. Ill carry him. You just hang with me. After this little bump in front of us its all downhill. And the suns just about down. Well have to really watch our footing, but well be moving fast enough that if the Paks try to catch up to us theyll make enough noise. With luck we can make the trucks by morning. Ive got one more shot of juice, maybe we can keep him quiet long enough to get back to the teams. What about this arty, man? The shot pattern is random, but not the timing. Weve got to time out the shots. Move and squat. Come on, lets go. *** Although it had been a little harrowing crossing the rest of the hidden valley under fire, they never saw any Paks, and the artillery had not followed them down the steeper slope into Afghanistan proper. Mark had actually gotten a bit of a second wind, and wanted to keep moving to keep from freezing in the night air. He was sure he had a sinus infection, his ears were still ringing from the loud crash of the artillery, and he was dehydrated, all combining into a monstrous headache. David carried Pasha the whole way down in a firemans carry, stopping only twice to adjust the load and not saying a single word. They had made the
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trucks in just six hours and shot Pasha up with a second round of morphine. Before moving out, however, Mark noticed a very small entry wound that they had missed originally. It was dead center in the back of Pashas skull. When Mark saw that he had to fight an overwhelming urge to cry. David just clinched his fists and ground his teeth. David drove the truck with reckless abandon, but an hour later, they stopped when they heard Pasha sigh. It was the only sound he had made since hed been hit. He was dead. The next thing Mark knew he awoke in a start. He was still in the truck. They were parked in some scrub, next to an intersection of two dirt trails. The first hints of morning were streaking the sky. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at Pasha stretched across the back seat. Still dead. He couldnt believe himself. A good friend dies and he reacts by falling asleep. He looked over at David. Also asleep. You feeling any better, David said, without opening his eyes. I thought you were asleep. I am. David sat up a little and opened his eyes. The teams front line trace is down there, less than two klicks. He nodded down the path to the right. Mark looked around. Things looked vaguely familiar, so he simply nodded affirmative. Im going to drop you here. Theres some water in the back, lets hydrate you and get you going. Mark started to wake up fast. Where the hell are you going? Ive got something I need to do. He glanced over his shoulder towards Pasha.

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Mark thought he understood, but wanted to be sure. Youre not going back up there. It wasnt a question. David closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, like he also had an incredible migraine. No. I should, but no. Mark looked at Pasha. Come on, man. Just bring him down. Theyll understand. Well get him back home where he belongs. Bullshit. Theyll just give me the usual agency crap about him not being a recruited asset. Or theyll just give his body to the Afghans. Fuck those Snags. David paused. Ill take him home myself. Besides, where the fuck was everybody, huh? Why werent those hills crawling with A-teams? Or a fucking brigade for that matter. Why should I trust the Agency to get anything right at this point? Im not going to talk you out of this am I? David gave Mark a rare and very weak smile. Youre not going back up there are you? No, Im not. What happened to you up there? I cant believe we didnt get him. Things were supposed to be different this time. David clenched the steering wheel tight and rested his forehead on it. It was supposed to be different this time Bosnia? It was a single word, but Mark knew it was an all encompassing question. David said nothing, which Mark took as acknowledgement. Mark had known David long enough to know he had problems. Something had happened to him in Bosnia, and Mark knew it came back to him in nightmares, and sometimes drove his actions while he was awake. But David had never showed any inclination of
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wanting to share, so Mark had never pried at the subject. OK. They sat in silence for a moment. What do I tell them? Mark nodded down the road. David lifted his head from the wheel. Just the truth, dont try to get all clever and spooky. The truth? Are you kidding? We killed all our fucking Afghans. We disobeyed standing orders. We took huge liberties with our mission. We knowingly tried to call an air strike inside Pakistan. And youre about to up and disappear, leaving me holding the bag. First of all, we didnt do anything. I did everything you said, including taking out the Snags. Second, if I went down there right now . . . David trailed off. It wouldnt be good for anybody. And third, youre right, you are holding the bag, and it stinks. So dont make it worse by lying. Theyll probably put you on the box. So you tell it like you see it and dont think you need to protect me. It wouldnt do any good if you tried anyway. Yeah. Youre probably right. Mark started out the window. You are coming back, arent you? I dont plan on moving to Uzbekistan. That made Mark smile. Alright, Ill play it your way. Like I ever had a choice. A few minutes later Mark was walking back in the direction of Jalalabad. He took a hard pull on his newly filled canteen. The cold water stung his throat, but somewhere inside his body was saying thank you. He turned around and caught a glimpse of the Toyota pick-up speeding west, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. Godspeed David.

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Key Terms and Acronyms

AK TheAK-47is a7.62mmassault rifle first developed in theSoviet Union byMikhail Kalashnikov. It is also known as aKalashnikov, an "AK. Allah Uh Akbhar Arabic for "God is Great", it is a commonIslamicArabic expression, used as both an informal expression of faith and as a formal declaration. AN/PAQ-1 Infrared laser designator used by forward observers to obtain target range and designate targets. Lightweight, handheld, and battery operated. AN/PRC117F Man-portable, tacticalcombat-net radiofor the transmission of voice and data traffic up to theTop Secretlevel AN/PVS-7 Standard U.S. Army night vision goggles in the 1980s-90s Arty Artillery ASAC Assistant Special Agent in Charge AWACS Airborne Warning and Control System BTF Balkan Task Force B-52 Long range strategic bomber in service with U.S. Air Force since 1955 COS CIA Chief of Station CIA Central Intelligence Agency C/O CIA Case Officer or Operations Officer COLT Combat Observation and Lasing Team
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COPS Chief of Operations. Key position within the CIAs headquarters divisions. CT Counterterrorism CTC CIAs Counterterrorism Center CTC/UBL CTC team dedicated to analysis of / operations against Usama Bin Ladin CTC/USA CTC team dedicated to analysis of / operations against Al-Qaida inside the U.S. C-17 (Globemaster) Largemilitary transport aircraft in service with the U.S. Airforcefrom the early 1990s CH-47 (Chinook) A twin-engine,tandem rotorheavy-lifthelicopter in service with the U.S. Army since the 1960s. AKA Shithook. DAGR GPS Defense Advanced GPS (Globaly Positioning System) Receiver(colloquially,"dagger") is a handheldGPSreceiver used by U.S. forces. DCI Director of Central Intelligence. CIA Director and unofficial chief of U.S. intelligence community until creation of Director or National Intelligence post after 9/11. DEA U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency DI CIAs Directorate of Intelligence DO CIAs Directorate of Operations Di di U.S. Army Vietnam era slang meaning Lets get the hell outta here. Dragunov 7.62mm sniper rifle developed in the Soviet Union The Farm The CIAs primary training facility, located in southern Virginia FBI U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation

FISA Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act of 1978 prescribes procedures for the physical and
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Mark Jameson

electronicsurveillance and collection of "foreign intelligence information" between "foreign powers" and "agents of foreign powers" (which may include American citizens and permanent residents suspected of being engaged in espionage and violating U.S. law on territory under United States control).
Force Recon U.S. Marine Corps'sspecial operations forcesthat conduct deep reconnaissance and intelligence operations FRAGO U.S. Army slang for Fragmentation Order. Shortened version of Armys standard Operations Order, typically abbreviated by changing / dangerous situations. F/A-18 (Hornet) Supersonic, carriercapable,multirole fighterjet, designed todogfightandattack ground targets. In service with U.S. Navy since the late 1980s. GITMO Slang for Guantanamo Bay, location of U.S. Marine Corps base and Al-Qaida detention facility on the island of Cuba. Glynco U.S. Law Enforcement Academy (Glynco, Georgia) GPS Global Positioning System G-3 German 7.62mm assault rifle developed in the 1950s Hallway File CIA slang for rumors / mistakes that are unshakable and follow an Agency employee throughout their career
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Han P U.S. Army slang for Han Pijesak, Bosnian mountain town that was headquarters of General Ratko Mladic (the Butcher of Srebrenica) HUMINT Human Intelligence ICE/INS Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Post 9/11 merger of the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) and the Customs Service. IMU Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan IRA Irish Republican Army IRS U.S. Internal Revenue Service ISI Pakistans Directorate for Interservices Intelligence (primary intelligence agency) JT Jamaat al Tabligh. Non-violent Muslim missionary group, often used by Al-Qaida for travel cover. JTTF Joint Terrorism Task Force Kalashnikov See AK Karzai Hamid Karzai, became President of Afghanistan in 2002 with U.S. backing KLA Kosovo Liberation Army. Also known by Albanian acronym UCK. Klick U.S. Army slang for kilometer KRL Khan Research Laboratories KSM Khalid Shaykh Muhammad, a.k.a Muhktar LT U.S. Army slang for Lieutenant LTD Laser Target Designation operations, see AN/PAQ-1 LZ Landing Zone METT-T U.S. Army planning acronym: Mission, Equipment, Troops, Terrain, Time MI-5 U.K.s counter-intelligence and security agency (internal service)
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MI-6 U.K.s Secret Intelligence Service (external service) Mogadishu Site of 1993 Blackhawk Down incident during which a U.S Army Special Forces/ Rangers operation went awry, resulting in hours of bloody street battles MP Military Police Muhj Muhjahidin. Interchangeable for Muslim holy warriors, Afghan freedom fighters. CIA slang for Islamic terrorists/insurgents. M-1 Abrams main battle tank, in service with the U.S. Army since early 1980s M-4 Shorter, lighter version of U.S. Armys primary assault rifle, M-16A2. M-4 was widely used by U.S. Special Forces in 1990s and began replacing M-16s as the Armys primary weapon after 9/11. NCO Non Commisioned Officer NE CIAs Near East Division Northern Alliance United Islamic Front, known in the West as the Afghan Northern Alliance, was a military-politicalumbrella organizationuniting Tajiks and other ethnic groups against the Taliban during the Afghan Civil War in the 1990s. NSA U.S. National Security Agency NSC U.S. National Security Council NWFP Pakistans Northwest Frontier Province OP Observation post OPCON U.S. Army acronym for Operational Control, indicating when a unit is temporarily put under control of another unit OSS Office of Strategic Services the CIAs WWII predecessor PDB Presidents Daily Brief
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PFC Private First Class PKM 7.62 mmgeneral purpose machine gundesigned in theSoviet Union in the 1960s PLO Palestine Liberation Organization QRF Quick Reaction Force Quantico FBIs primary training facility, located on Quantico Marine Corps base in Virginia ROE Rules of Engagement RPG-7 Widely-produced, low cost, portable,shoulder-launched,anti-tankrocketpropelled grenadelauncher. Originally developed in the Soviet Union in the 1960s. SAC Special Agent in Charge SAR Search and Rescue SATCOM Satellite Communications SECDEF U.S. Secretary of Defense SINCGARS Single Channel Ground and Airborne Radio System, the primary combat net radio used by U.S. military forces SF Special Forces Snags U.S. Army (derogatory) slang for locals in Bosnia SOG CIAs Special Operations Group Srebrenica Site of 1995 massacre of Bosnians Muslims by Bosnian Serbs STU Secure Telephone Unit. Family of U.S. Government securetelephones. Latest, STU III, was introduced in 1987 by theNSA. Thuraya A regionalsatellite phoneprovider widely used in the Middle East Top U.S. Army slang for the senior NCO in a unit (term of respect) UBL Usama Bin Ladin, a.k.a. The Shaykh
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UCK See Kosovo Liberation Army UHF Ultra High Frequency designates theradio frequencyrange between 300MHzand 3GHz(3,000MHz) VHF Very High Frequency designates the radio frequency range between 30MHzand 300MHz Vil U.S. Army Vietanam era slang for Village WMD Weapons of Mass Destruction 105s Slang for artillery, 105mm being one of the most widely used artillery munition calibers in the world. 10TH Mountain U.S. Armys 10th Mountain Division 101st U. S. Army 101st Air Assault Division

Authors note: The author chose to follow the practice of depicting Arabic words without the English letters e and o, a common Lebanese practice. (E.g. Usama vs. Osama, Al-Qaida vs. Al-Qaeda)

10

September 11th 2001 Hijacker Teams AA Flight 11

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UA Flight 175

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AA Flight 77

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UA Flight 93

Photo Images https://www.cia.gov/news-information/speechestestimony/2002/DCI_18_June_testimony_new.pdf

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About The Author

The author captures over fourteen years of unique government experience in this thriller about hunting Al-Qaida. He started as a U.S. Army officer with two tours in Bosnia. During the Armys initial deployment to Bosnia, he led a scout platoon that tracked the number two war criminal in the Balkans and kept the Serbs most dangerous units from reigniting the war. In 1999, the author joined the CIA as a military analyst and was immediately put to work on the Agencys premier analytical unit, the Balkan Task Force. For the next three years he was part of a small team that tracked Balkan insurgent groups in minute detail, wrote daily intelligence analysis for the White House and senior Washington policy makers, and forward deployed to the Balkans to aid CIA operations officers, the U.S. military, and NATO allies in turning off several brewing Balkan crises. The author received several citations for critical
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warning memos to senior policy makers and for his role in averting new Balkan wars. Shortly before 9/11, the author became a CIA operations officer. After the attacks he deployed across the U.S., Canada, and the Middle East to assist the FBI in piecing together its multitude of cases related to the attacks. In 2003 he received a commendation from the Director of the FBI for his role in combating terrorism inside the U.S. In 2006 the author left CIA for the defense industry. He has a Masters Degree in Security Policy Studies from George Washington University and lives in the St. Louis area with his wife and two children.

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