The Maverick Experiment (12 page)

Derek entered ahead of Randy and introduced himself.

The home was extremely modest and poorly lit. Rohollah's wife and son sat quietly in the corner as he ushered his guests to the opposite side of the room.

“Thank you for seeing us, sir. I really appreciate it,” Derek said.

Shafi translated the greetings and the general reason for the meeting to Rohollah, who now waited for Derek to speak.

“He is ready for you to speak, sir.”

“OK. Thanks, bud. Colonel, the reason we are here is that my people, the Americans, would like to continue our efforts out at the prison and make the facility more safe for you and your colleagues and more humane for the detainees. Now I know, from working out there, that your particular cell block was built by the British. So I am sure they do not want me talking to you, but I also know from talking with them that there are no plans to expand. My proposal for you is that I would like to come take a tour so I can make my recommendations to my office and then we'll expand the current building and add more cells and space for your staff. But we are in a bit of a time crunch and I would like to come in the morning.”

Derek paused to ensure he hadn't lost the colonel, but Shafi nodded to continue. Afghans were empire builders, just like Americans. Although Derek wasn't fluent in Dari, he knew a language that everyone spoke: power. For the colonel, more space meant more power.

Derek continued, “Giving you more space will be better for your men and your security. Plus, we will add a new office for you and furnish it as you see fit. All I ask is that you keep this quiet until we begin the construction and give me a brief tour tomorrow so I can make my report. I have also brought some money for you and your family for allowing us to come over to your home on short notice.”

Derek handed Rohollah the equivalent of five hundred US dollars. It was a bit less than he had given Latif, but Rohollah had more to prove. If tomorrow morning went well, he would get more cash.

Rohollah thought for a second and then, like many Afghans Derek had met with, began listing the things he and his men needed in the cell. “This is good. We also need more handcuffs and flashlights for my men—”

Derek interrupted, “Sir, I will get you all that, but first things first. Let's start with a tour and the facility recommendations, and then we can get into additional materials that you need.”

Derek knew from experience that if he didn't cut the colonel off, the list would go on forever.

The colonel agreed.

“That's all we need, sir. We do not want to keep you from your family any longer. Just remember to keep this between us and tell no one. We will see you in the morning.”

The colonel stood and asked his visitors if they wanted tea. He looked to his wife to prepare it, but Randy quickly put his hand up.

“Oh, no, thank you, Colonel. We will sit and have tea with you tomorrow. Please, you and your family rest, and we will see you
farda
. Thanks again for having us.”

“
Bale
.
Tashakur
, Colonel,” Derek added.

Derek spoke Arabic but had never taken the time to formally learn Dari or Pashto for fear it would alter his Arabic skills. The languages shared the same characters, with the exception of a few letters, but they had a completely different grammar structure, and certain words had totally different meanings. Still, over time, he had learned enough to at least exchange pleasantries and be polite.

Derek and his companions exited the home and drove away. “That was quick and easy,” said Randy.

“Yeah, it seemed so. I guess we'll see in the morning.”

“True. Yeah, this is gonna suck if we get thrown in prison at Pol-e-Charkhi. I'll be pissed.”

The men laughed as they drove away. Moments later, they dropped Latif near Olympic Stadium and made their way back to Ud-Khail and their safe house.

Thursday, January 28
Kabul, Afghanistan
Pol-e-Charkhi Prison
0915 Hrs

Derek and Randy pulled up to the prison in Shafi's Corolla. Colonel Latif had jumped in the car a few hundred yards prior to the first guard stand. Derek had been in the prison dozens of times, but he had learned it was always faster to get in with an actual prison official in the car with him.

As the car pulled up to the gate, the guard gave Derek a strange look, not expecting a Westerner to be visiting. He approached the vehicle, and Derek pointed toward the backseat, where Latif opened the door and explained that the men were his guests. After the short dialogue, the drop arm was raised and the men were in. Of course, two more checkpoints would need to be passed between the men's current position
and the interior of the prison. It would not be a problem, though, with Colonel Latif in the car.

Afghan security was a funny thing, Derek thought. Depending on the guard, you might get someone who wouldn't let you past his checkpoint no matter what identification you had, and then you might encounter one who would allow you to enter at the mere sight of a Blockbuster card. It made no sense, but it seemed there was never anyone in between. Maybe there were only two schools that taught security in Afghanistan, one that cared and one that didn't. Either way, it didn't matter in this case, and the team made it all the way and drove through the large black steel gates at the prison's main entrance.

“Wow!” exclaimed Randy. “This place is huge.”

“Isn't it? I told you. It's like its own little corrupt city of thugs.”

As they pulled through the gate, Derek took an immediate left, bypassing the deputy commander's office on the right, and they headed down toward the Drug and Poppy Cell Block, located in the northeast corner of the compound.

Derek parked the car in front of the structure, and Rohollah appeared from the front door seconds later to welcome the men.

“Good morning, sir. Good to see you.”

Randy smiled and nodded as the men entered the compound. The Drug and Poppy Block had a large concrete wall surrounding it, with a chain link fence and concertina wire forming an interior security wall. The structure itself was two stories and had blocks on both sides of each floor. In the front of the compound was a one-story guard and administrative building.

“So what do you wish to do first?” asked Rohollah.

“Well, let's start with a tour.”

Colonel Latif had been informed before the men reached the prison to make a mental note of where Habib was in the block because Derek would not be asking about his location. Doing so would potentially destroy his cover story and reason for being there.

Rohollah waved his hand and led the men into the cell block. He explained that the block had detainees on both levels of either side. Derek, of course, knew this, having been in the block before Rohollah's time, but he humored the colonel. He would have to buy as much time as possible so Latif and Shafi could determine where Habib Rahman was calling home.

“Where do you want to start?”

“Let's start on the lower level,” replied Derek, hoping they could find the detainee right away, shortening the tour and making the eventual operation much easier.

Rohollah acknowledged and led the men down the left hallway of the lower level. Latif peered into the cell windows as the men wandered and Rohollah explained the facility and its weaknesses to Derek. Shafi translated. He was also supposed to grab Derek by the arm when Latif signaled that he had found Habib.

After touring the entire first floor, the men made their way up the stairs. The team hit the jackpot within minutes of moving upstairs. Shafi grabbed Derek's arm. Latif had identified Habib Rahman in the second cell on the upper left hall of the compound.

Derek and Randy had been laughing to themselves through the entire tour because the Drug and Poppy Cell
Block was far and away the best cell block on the entire compound and would be the last place any foreign government would start doing renovation work. After Rohollah had finished yet another sentence claiming why he needed a better facility, Derek interrupted.

“So is the top basically a replica of the lower floor?”

“Yes.”

“OK, well, then I think I have a good understanding of what the problems are and what we need to address. Let's go chat in your office for a few minutes, and then we will head back and talk to our office about this.”

If only our office, or former office, that is, knew we were here today, thought Derek. Station was looking for him to help out at the prison. They'd crap all over themselves if they knew that tonight he would be breaking in.

After an exhausting hour of tea and listening to Rohollah's litany of needs, Derek was able to get a word in and make an excuse as to why the men needed to leave.

An appreciative Rohollah led them to their car, and the men headed back toward the main entrance. Meanwhile, in the backseat, Latif drew a simple sketch to show Shafi which cell Habib was in.

“Thanks again, Latif. You have been a huge help. If we can just go by the regime room and get a copy of his photo, then we will be on our way.” The regime room was essentially Pol-e-Charkhi's file room, where all prisoner data was stored.

Derek and Randy stayed in the car as Shafi ran into the office with Latif to get the photo. Moments later, Shafi returned to the car with Latif and handed Habib's picture to Derek.

“You're sure this is him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“OK, great. Thanks, Latif. Here is an additional one hundred thousand Afghanis for your help.” Derek passed the colonel a large stack of Afghan currency.

Latif took the money and waved as they drove off. Derek pulled out of the prison and headed back toward the safe house, where he and Randy hoped the others were finishing up the plan they had begun last night.

Thursday, January 28
Kabul, Afghanistan
Safe House
1137 Hrs

Carson approached the vehicle as Derek and Randy exited.

“What's up, bitches? How was the prison?”

“Good, douche bag. What's up? You finish the plan?”
Randy asked with a laugh.

“Yeah. Conceptually speaking, we finished it like two hours ago, minus which block the dude's in.”

“Good. I'm anxious to hear it,” Derek said. “It better be pretty damn good, or this isn't going to go well. And it may not, even at that. We're going to have our hands full, and that's only if we're also lucky.”

“Oh, it's good.”

“Good,” laughed Derek. “Let's talk about it over lunch. I'm starving.”

Thursday, January 28
Kabul, Afghanistan
Pol-e-Charkhi Village
1215 Hrs

Fahim and Khaled anxiously awaited their visitor. After all, today was a big day for them. The Taliban would attempt an attack like none other before. They would use not only the official vehicles to assist in getting close to the prison, but also an Afghan official.

“There he comes,” Fahim said, pointing to an approaching vehicle.

General Mohibullah had been the commander at Pol-e-Charkhi prison for nearly five years and had brought some great changes to the facility. Mohibullah's desire to survive was the same as any other Afghan's, however. His job paid him only enough to get by, and therefore, bribes and kickbacks were the only way he could live the life he thought he deserved. This time, however, he had gone overboard. Malawi Rafiq and his deputies had offered one hundred thousand US
dollars to assist in pulling off the biggest attack the Taliban had ever attempted in Kabul. The psychological effect of such a successful attack would be devastating to the government of Afghanistan and its coalition partners.

The Taliban was aware they could have paid far less to have Mohibullah simply release Habib Rahman, but a statement needed to be made, they said. Over the course of the previous week, longtime friend and supporter Agha Jan had been murdered, and now a key deputy, Habib Rahman, was being held at the prison for charges of terrorism.

Mohibullah knew his return to the prison after the attack would not be possible, but if he survived, he would have enough funds to live for several years—more than five, at least—in his current lifestyle.

As Mohibullah exited his car, Fahim graciously welcomed his guest. Mohibullah ordered his security to remain with the vehicle, knowing if just one person learned of his plans, the whole attack could be foiled.

“Thank you so much for coming, sir. Malawi sent word that you would be coming, but until now, we couldn't believe such a thing was possible. Truly, Allah is faithful.”

“It is my honor, friend. Now, let me see the vehicles. I have to return to my office for a meeting.”

Khaled waved the general and Fahim toward the two Land Cruisers.

“They look just like yours, General. The other men will arrive tonight as scheduled and will act as your security group.”

The general walked alongside one of the vehicles, running his hands over what would be a source of death for many Afghans in mere hours. “How does the inside look? They will do a routine check when I arrive back tonight.”

Khaled opened the door, and the general peered in.

“It looks like a normal car, sir. They will not know the difference.”

Khaled and Fahim had packed the explosives in secure places, such as the door linings and the spare-tire compartment. The two had become quite proficient over the past years in building suicide vehicles.

“And my security team. Why are they different?”

“Malawi said you would be able to explain, as you are the commander.”

“Very well, I will handle that. I can say I was at another meeting and was provided transport back to my office by their people. Getting in will be no problem. But then you are on your own. My job is to get you inside, and then Allah be with you, as I will not. I will arrange for my driver to be waiting so I can depart just a the attack begins.”

“That is fine. We will conduct our plan once inside but give you some time to leave,” said Fahim.

“What time should I be back here?”

“Just after the prison switches to the night shift. Come here around six, and we will depart shortly thereafter.”

“Very well. Until then.”

“Be safe, General, and do not draw any attention onto yourself. This plan relies on you.”

“I will return.”

“We will see you then, sir.”

The general returned to his vehicle and departed.

Meanwhile, Fahim and Khaled returned to put some finishing touches on the vehicles and waited for the other guests to arrive.