Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office (17 page)

The conference room held a rich history for every Director General, hosting the few Prime Ministers who had dared to venture down the halls of the Directorate of Inter-Services Intelligence. This was not a friendly place for politicians and the military men that were stationed here took pains to ensure that they understood that fact. The ISI had always come under fire from democratic governments wanting to reel them in and control their activities, but the Army command refused to allow it to happen. This room, adjacent to the Director General
’s office, was his own conference room and designed to be as intimidating to the elected politicians as the Prime Minister’s office was to regular citizens. It was also the Chief of Army Staff’s office when he visited the facility, the base of operations in Islamabad. Kamal thought about the first time he had visited ISI headquarters years ago, for a briefing with Colonel Akbar before being stationed in Karachi. That briefing room was a simple classroom on the second floor, miniature compared to where he was today.

“Take a seat, Captain,” Lt. General Misbah Qadir said, “I hope your welcome back to civilization has been comfortable.”

“Yes sir, very comfortable,” Kamal replied. “Thank you sir.”

“Captain, we have a great deal to cover today so I don
’t want to waste time. Do you know all the people sitting around the table?” motioning to the five men that would de-brief him.

“Yes sir. I am familiar with each,” Kamal lied having only recognized three of the five.

“Then, let me get everyone up to speed,” the Lt. General said, opening a file in front of him. “Gentlemen, approximately seven months ago, Captain Kamal Khan was tasked with an intelligence gathering exercise to infiltrate a jihadi network based in Sarhad. The purpose of the exercise was to gather information on the main players, sources of funding and activities of the network to assess the potential threat to the state of Pakistan.” He turned back to Kamal. “You joined the network through a masjid in Timergara, Dir, correct?” he asked flipping pages of the file.

“Yes sir. I was recruited through Imam Shahid
’s masjid in Timergara.”

The General pulled his spectacles down from his eyes, looking at Kamal. “Recruited? How did that happen?”

“Sir, I was stationed in Peshawar under the identity of Dawood Islam as a construction worker on daily wages. At the site, I met a…potential asset known as Kaleem Aslam, who engineered my introduction to Imam Shahid,” Kamal explained. “I can’t say whether I was specifically targeted for recruitment, but the group seemed to know a great deal about me when I first met the Imam. I have detailed all of my interactions with Kaleem in my reports, sir.”

“Thank you for the clarification, Captain,” the General said, somewhat angered that his assistant had not highlighted that in his file. “Gentlemen, as the Captain as told us, he had provided regular reports through all channels. These reports are the basis of the de-briefing today. We are gathered to determine what intelligence is actionable; what, if any, action should be taken by the army itself, and when.” He paused for a moment before asking the group of five, “Are we all clear?”

The General waited for all the men at the table to acknowledge. “Captain, the floor is yours. Please take us through the intelligence.”

Kamal rose from his seat and moved to the video screen against the front of the room. He picked up the remote for the projector, flipping through photographs to where the whole story started. He had spent the past two days putting together the presentation that he was about to deliver, but as he stood there, the nervousness of his first briefing caught in his throat, and he paused to grab a glass of water to settle his nerves. He spent the better part of three hours walking the generals through the seven months of being Dawood Islam, the people that he had met and the places that he had been to. He knew that these men wanted to know the five W
’s so that they could make an informed decision about what the army’s response should be to this potential threat.

Kamal stopped when he reached the slides about The Sanctuary. There were none. So he described the location as well as he could, since he hadn
’t been able to take any pictures without compromising his cover. He pulled up maps of the area and used a white board to define the location and layout of the compound and the proximity of law enforcement agencies to it. As he retuned to the slides, he introduced and discussed both Mufti Fazal and Sheikh Atif in greater detail, pointing out that he felt he had seen the Sheikh somewhere previously, but was unable to place where. The last slides of the presentation were of the crates of weapons, taken with the minute light of a match, making them harder to decipher, but clear enough to get the urgency of the message across. “This was not just a jihadi organization, and probably not affiliated with the mujahideen in Afghanistan. They are planning something much more ominous for Pakistan,” Kamal said as he flipped the projector off.

“How do you think something like this can exist for so long, Captain?” asked Lt. General Asim Junejo, Director General, Military Operations. “You would think that the Frontier Constabulary would have neutralized this by now.”

“Sir, I would have thought so myself, but the realities on ground are significantly different. I am not commenting on the FC command, but from my investigations, I’ve discovered that the line soldiers are more interested in protecting notables than policing the region,” Kamal answered, making sure not to overstep his boundaries. “I don’t think, sir, that the FC is willing or able to neutralize this compound. I also don’t believe that they are operating independently. They have some major support and international donors to be able to feed, train and arm this many jihadi fighters.”

“Captain, are you suggesting that the army needs to step in?” asked Brigadier Ahmed Saeed, Director General Military Intelligence.

“Sir, I am in no position to suggest anything to the army. My job is to gather intelligence and report back to my handler for informed decision-making,” Kamal answered. “The army does what our command decide.”

The questions continued. How did the compound operate? What were its defenses like? If it needed to be neutralized, how it could be done, quickly and efficiently? There were many questions about the potential weaponry that might be stored at the compound that Kamal may not have seen, but Kamal had spent two nights hunting around the compound to get as complete an intelligence picture that he could. “They had Kalashnikovs, sir, which makes me think they have a store of old Soviet armaments. I am sure that they have the necessary weaponry to defend themselves against air attacks, but there was no indication of where those may have been stationed while I was at the compound.”

The discussions continued into the late evening hours before the Director General adjourned, requesting that all parties reconvene tomorrow to continue. Kamal was asked to leave the room so that the five could have a private discussion, but the Director General sent his aide to ask Kamal to stay behind for a conversation once everyone had left.

“Just a question, if you don
’t mind.” Outside, Kamal stopped the aide before he opened the door to re-enter the conference room. He had been watching the Generals lighting up throughout the presentation and discussion, but didn’t think it was proper protocol to light a cigarette himself. “I’ve been here a few hours and would like to have a cigarette. Is there somewhere on this floor where I can smoke?”

The aide grinned. “Why didn
’t you just smoke in the conference room? The Generals wouldn’t have said anything.”

“First time here, I didn
’t want to offend anyone,” Kamal replied wryly. If he had known…

“There
’s a room three doors down that you can duck into for a cigarette. Why don’t you just stay there and I’ll collect you?” the aide replied, as he opened the door and ducked inside.

With his nicotine addiction taking hold, Kamal moved quickly down the hall to the third door and popped it open, walking in without a second thought. He stopped. A young woman sat at a desk, furiously typing away on her laptop. She lifted her head to see him standing there. With a scowl she said, “Is knocking no longer part of military training, soldier?”

Kamal was taken aback first with the woman sitting in the office and then by her tone. “Excuse me, ma’am. I was told by the aide that I could smoke here. I was only following the directions that I had been given. Apologies, I must have the wrong room.”

“Well you obviously can
’t smoke here,” the lady replied abruptly. “You can go downstairs to the fresh air and pollute it with your cigarette smoke, along with the rest of the rank and file.”

Kamal, offended that she grouped him in with the rank and file, stepped into the room and walked straight to the her desk. “It
’s Captain, not soldier. Soldiers are the ones who stand with rifles on your gate. I’ve earned my stripes already,” he said pointing to the captain’s bars on his collar.

“
So sorry,” she mocked. “
Captain
. You still can’t smoke in here. This is my office and I don’t know what idiot aide would send you here for a cigarette.”

From his pack, he pulled a cigarette and lighter. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, the flicked the lighter and watched the flame emerge.

“I wouldn’t light that,” she warned him.

Kamal pulled the lighter closer and lit the cigarette, taking a long satisfying drag before exhaling into the air around her. “I would like to go downstairs for a cigarette in the fresh air, but since I can
’t leave this floor, I’ll just have to deal with your freshness,” he said with a smile.

The lady picked up her phone and dialed quickly. “Security, I have a soldier in my office who is smoking. Please come and remove him.”

The security team for headquarters was stationed on every floor and within seconds of the call, two men burst into the room, only to freeze in their tracks when they saw Kamal. Every member of the security team had been alerted that there was a field agent in the building along with his location to avert any incidents. The security officers glanced between Kamal and the young lady, trying to decide which one to appease, finally settling on Kamal.

“Ma
’am, you’ll need to excuse the Captain. He’s not allowed to leave the floor under the orders of the Director General,” one security officer said.

“So my office becomes his smoking room?” she retorted angrily.

Unable to resist, Kamal smirked at her. “My waiting room as well. The aide told me to wait here to be collected.”

She was furious. Kamal could see her temper rise with each word the soldier said. But she controlled herself admirably, ignoring Kamal and taking her anger out on the poor soldiers. “Get out! I
’ll take this up with your commander!” she yelled.

Kamal strolled to the sofa next to the door, and calmly sat down. “Bring me an ashtray, double time!” Kamal ordered the soldiers. A soldier returned seconds later with the ashtray, causing Kamal to smirk ever more. “This is a military building ma
’am. I’m sure it would be different if this were a civilian one. Fortunately, here the uniforms have a bit more clout. This is very comfortable, by the way. Where did you get it?” Kamal asked. “I’d like one for my flat.”

“Do you know that each puff you take off that stick decreases your life by two minutes? Are you willing to make that sacrifice for a little smoke?” she said without answering the question.

Kamal grinned, running his hand over his beard. “If you knew what I do for a living, this sacrifice is the least of my worries,” he said waving his cigarette above the ashtray, careful not to drop any ash on the sofa or floor.

She gave him a withering look and a parody of a smile. “Do you regularly push your way into other people
’s offices?”

“
Well, I’m normally out in the field protecting your freedom and your frontiers, so, no. I don’t make it a habit.” Kamal answered, getting up from the sofa to look around the office.

“Excuse me, but what do you think you
’re doing?” she asked.

“Well, I like your taste in furniture, so I thought I
’d check out the art and see if we match there as well,” Kamal said, turning towards the painting on the wall. “This is a Sadequain, right? Excellent! I have always wanted one of these.”

“You know Sadequain?” she said with surprise.

“I know. A ‘soldier’ that knows art, how could it be possible?”

“No, that
’s not what I meant…” she started.

“So what did you mean Sara?” Kamal asked her.

She fell silent, stunned that he knew her name. “Do I know you?” she looked at him suspiciously.

“Actually… no,” Kamal answered. “We
’ve never met.”

“Then how do you know my name?”

“Intelligence services. We know everyone’s name. Well, that’s what you civilians think anyway.” He saw the incredulous look on her face and relented. Even with a beard, Kamal was charming when he tried. “You have three pieces of paper on your desk with your name on them. It’s pretty easy to figure out who you are from there.”

She looked down and saw the confidential memo, airline ticket and visiting card sitting in full view. Futilely, she swept them off the table and into a drawer.