Chapter 16
PART IV
16
Lars
Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan
6 Years Ago
My Special Forces unit was standing in a windowless briefing room, surrounded by Special Forces guys from five other countries, when Gunnar whispered to me in Swedish. We often spoke in our native tongue when we wanted to keep it between us.
Anybody who knows Spanish, Italian, or French can get the gist of something said in one of the other languages. And everybody at Bagram understood English.
But Swedish?
It was like our own private code.
“Hej bror, vad fan tror du att det här handlar om p>
Hey, brother – what the fuck do you think this is all about?
“Ingen aning,” I replied.
No idea.
Gunnar was a fellow Special Forces member and the most unusual guy I’d met in the military. At 6’2” and 240 pounds, he was powerfully built – but he had the friendliest, most easy-going personality of anyone I knew. There was always a smile on his bushy-bearded face.
Maybe it was all the weed. He’d smoked out frequently when we were stationed back in Sweden, and he’d continued his habit in Afghanistan.
Despite his love for the herb, Gunnar was brilliant. He’d been a computer hacker as a teenager and had broken into several major corporations’ databases just for fun. I had a hard time wrapping my head around it: a 6’2”, burly computer nerd. But apparently, it was the truth.
When he was 18, he hacked the Swedish equivalent of the Pentagon and got caught. They gave him two choices: a criminal trial and jail time… or he could go to work for the military. He chose the latter.
The thing was, Gunnar was an anti-establishment type through and through. He hated being forced to hack – especially by The Man. When he intentionally failed out of the military’s computer counter-measures training program, they threatened him with placement in the infantry. He called their bluff and immediately got shipped off to boot camp.
Weirdly enough, Gunnar took to being a soldier like a duck to water. After getting into superb physical shape, he eventually tried out for Special Forces and made it in.
He studied Pashto as one of his languages when he joined Special Forces.
I asked him ‘why’ once.
“Cuz it sounds cool,” he told me.
That was reason enough for Gunnar.
Pashto was one of Afghanistan’s most widely used languages, which was the ‘official’ reason why he got sent there. Like me, the unofficial reason was that he was exceptionally good in a firefight.
As soon as we arrived at Bagram, Gunnar started talking to the locals who did the support roles on base: kitchen staff, groundskeepers, janitors. Within a few days, he’d gotten hooked up with a steady supply of what he called bra grajer – Swedish for the ‘good stuff p>
I warned him repeatedly to knock that shit off. Recreational marijuana use was illegal in Sweden and was even more strictly prohibited in the Swedish military.
It was a thousand times worse in Afghanistan. They gave the death penalty to any Afghan caught selling or cultivating weed, so I was pretty sure the government wouldn’t take kindly to foreign nationals possessing it, either.
But Gunnar ignored me.
“A lot of botanists believe Afghanistan is where cannabis originally came from,” he said earnestly, as though that would keep him out of trouble if he got caught.
That was the thing about Gunnar that was both exasperating and admirable: he was going to do whatever he wanted, and nobody would ever be able to talk him out of it. But he’d still be cheerful and friendly to you the entire time, no matter how much he disagreed with you.
At the moment, Gunnar and I were awaiting a briefing on a mission nobody knew anything about. There were Special Ops guys from the US, England, France, Spain, Italy – and Sweden, of course. All in all, there were 25 of us. Whatever the mission was, it was going to be a big fucking deal.
One of the American soldiers stepped up to the podium at the front of the room. “Alright, listen up. The briefing today is from a UK intelligence operative who just flew in. She’ll tell you everything you need to know p>
…she’ll?
That caused a bit of a stir.
And then she walked into the room and created an even bigger stir.
There were relatively few females serving at Bagram, so the presence of one was always notable. Especially when she was as gorgeous as this woman.
She was tall and athletic, probably 5’11”, with dark hair pulled back into a bun. Flawless skin, brown eyes, and sensual lips. The camo pants didn’t reveal much, but her legs were incredibly long, and she wore a tight-fitting t-shirt that hugged her graceful curves.
The movie Wonder Woman had just come out and made the actress Gal Gadot an international star. This woman could have been her sister. Even without a speck of makeup, she was more beautiful than 99% of the women I’d seen in my life.
She stood at the podium, confident but unsmiling, and looked out at all of us. “Hello. My name is Rachel Bauer p>
She sounded almost as alluring as she looked, with a posh British accent and a low, smoky voice.
I listened, entranced, as she continued talking.
“I’m from SIS, the UK’s Secret Intelligence Service. Most of you are probably more familiar with the older name for the agency, MI6, so I’ll just use that instead p>
“James Bond,” one of the Americans called out, and there was some scattered laughter from the soldiers.
She smiled politely like she’d heard it a thousand times before. “Exactly. Now, if you’ll direct your attention to the monitor, I’ll show you our target for the mission p>
A high-resolution screen hung on the wall at the front of the room. Several pictures appeared, all of the same Afghani male. In one of them, he was dressed in an expensive Western-style suit and looked like a rich playboy. In two other photos, he was dressed like the Taliban in a turban and robes with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.
Rachel continued. “The United Kingdom’s domestic Security Service, otherwise known as MI5, foiled a bombing plot in London last week. MI6 discovered that the funding ran through Abdullah Shah Massoud, seen here onscreen – a former Al Qaeda operative now working with the Taliban p>
Al Qaeda was the terrorist group responsible for the attacks on 9/11. Their leader was Osama bin Laden, a Saudi national who had used his inherited wealth to fund global terrorism.
The Taliban was the Islamist group that ruled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001. Extreme Islamic fundamentalists, they outlawed education for girls. They were also infamous for beating women who went out in public without wearing a burqa – a full-body dress that hid everything, including a mesh screen over their eyes.
After 9/11, the United States determined that Osama bin Laden was hiding out in Afghanistan and demanded the Taliban turn him over. The Taliban not only refused, they helped bin Laden escape into neighboring Pakistan. The Taliban’s refusal and their implicit support for terrorism against the West was what prompted the American invasion of Afghanistan.
In 2011, an American SEAL team killed bin Laden during a secret raid inside Pakistan – only a few hundred miles away from where we now stood.
Rachel continued her briefing. “MI6 has determined that Abdullah Shah Massoud arrived in Kabul 24 hours ago. We believe he’s plotting a new series of attacks against Western countries. Our mission is to go into Kabul, root out the terrorist cell he’s visiting, and take Massoud down. Preferably alive, but dead works just fine. Now – ”
“Excuse me,” a Spanish-accented voice spoke up.
We all turned to look at one of the guys from Grupos de Operaciones Especiales: GOE, aka Spain’s Special Forces. They were one of the countries participating in the raid.
I was vaguely acquainted with the guy speaking. Jorge Delgado. He was an asshole and not well-liked by any of the other countries’ Special Forces units. I don’t think his own men cared for him much, either.
Rachel looked annoyed at the interruption. “Yes p>
“Why are you giving this briefing p>
She narrowed her eyes. “Because MI6 retrieved the intel, and I work for MI6 p>
“Respectfully,” Delgado said, without any respect in his voice whatsoever, “I think someone who is going on the mission should be giving the briefing p>
“Well, then, you’re in luck,” she said coldly. “Because I am p>
Which surprised me, I’ll admit.
It surprised Delgado even more.
“You?” he scoffed.
There’s a fair amount of misogyny in Special Forces. Not against women in general, but against women serving in the military.
Not me. I figure if you want to fight, you go through the training, and you qualify, then you’ve earned your place. I’d served with plenty of good female soldiers in the regular Swedish military, and I knew an outstanding female helicopter pilot.
But Special Forces is typically full of a bunch of tough guys who think that women shouldn’t set foot anywhere near a battlefield.
Even then, Delgado was in a class by himself. It wasn’t just the stereotypical Latin machismo or locker-room attitudes toward sexual conquests. He honestly seemed to think women were good for nothing more than sex and cooking him meals.
Which is probably why a woman briefing him on a mission raised his hackles…
And why he felt entitled to be openly disrespectful to her.
To the credit of the other Spaniards in his unit, they all glanced at each other like What a fuckin’ tool.
But every guy in the room was highly interested in seeing how Rachel Bauer would handle herself.
“Yes, me,” she said in an even colder voice. “Do you have a problem with that p>
Delgado smirked like he was hitting on her at a bar. “I think such a pretty lady should not be endangering herself p>
“That’s not your call.” She glanced back at the monitor. “Now, as I was saying – ”
“If I’m going into battle with a woman,” Delgado interrupted, “I’d say it is my call p>
The look Rachel gave him was pure contempt. “Your name is Delgado, correct p>
She’d obviously read our files in preparation for the briefing.
He raised his chin cockily. “Sargento Primero Jorge Delgado, GOE p>
“Well, Delgado – if you have an issue with my inclusion in the mission, you’re welcome to sit this one out.” She swept her gaze across the rest of the room. “That goes for anyone else who agrees with Sergeant Delgado. I won’t complain to your superiors, I won’t make an issue of it, and you won’t be penalized. I’ll see to that personally.” She looked back at Delgado with a vicious glare. “But I don’t want anyone on my team who doesn’t want to be there p>
It was a command performance on her part: self-assured, powerful, and take no shit. You could feel the room’s level of respect for her go up several notches.
Not from Delgado, though.
I could see the wheels in his head spinning, gearing up for the next assault.
His Spanish buddies glared at him like QUIET, you idiot! –
But the asshole couldn’t help himself.
He said with a smirk, “If there is anyone who should withdraw from the – ”
“If you’re going to leave,” Rachel interrupted, “then do it now. Otherwise, shut up. Either way, stop wasting my fucking time p>
Every man in the room stifled a laugh –
Every man except Delgado, that is.
He kept a smile plastered on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I could tell from how the corner of his mouth twitched that he was pissed.
“Is there anything else, Sergeant p>
She said ‘Sergeant’ like she was saying shithead.
“…no,” he finally answered.
“Good,” she snapped, then continued the briefing.
As far as the men in that room were concerned, Rachel Bauer had passed the test.
But she’d made an enemy in doing so.
“Wow, hon är något annat,” Gunnar whispered.
Wow, she’s something else.
“Ja det är hon,” I murmured back.
Yes, she is.