Strike Force Delta by Mack Maloney

Author:Mack Maloney [Maloney, Mack]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2005-01-19T23:00:00+00:00

10 minutes later

On top of a mountain about a half-mile away, Fox and Tarik Aboo were standing near one of the recently landed Blackhawk helicopters. They’d watched the attack from here. Ryder had piloted one of the copters during the assault and had landed here shortly afterward. He was now waiting to fly them off.

As intended, the strike on the compound had been quite a show. Tarik’s jaw fell open at the first explosion and had yet to close shut. In fact, he was still having trouble speaking. That’s how shocked and awed he was.

He’d fought the Russians and the Taliban; he’d fought rival tribes. He’d seen war, combat, killing. But he’d never seen anything like this. What the helicopters had done to Sharif’s palace was astonishing simply by the brazenness of it all. It was clear no one in the palace survived—the strange Americans had stamped out Sharif as if they were crushing a bug with their boot. Such boldness went a long way in Afghanistan.

“You have opened up the earth,” Tarik finally managed to say. “And Sharif has fallen down into it. He is gone, but it’s like a dream. A stain, so suddenly removed.”

Fox shrugged. “You had a problem; we made it go away,” he said. “That’s what we do. So, I’ll ask you again: Will you help us?”

Tarik smiled broadly now. These Americans were different. They actually did what they said. By that alone Tarik had gained tremendous respect for them.

“Yes,” he declared finally. “I will help you.”

And he’d come prepared. Tarik reached inside his robes and retrieved a cloth that he opened like a handkerchief. On it were hand-drawn pictures of heavy weapons such as tracked guns, tanks, rocket launchers.

“This being Afghanistan,” he explained, “you can get weapons just about anywhere. You can buy them or you can rent them. You can even rent whole armies. My cousin, next valley over, has two hundred men at your disposal. Another cousin has some artillery. Still another has some tanks. This and more is available.”

Fox asked for more details. Tarik’s first cousin had two Russian-built T-72 tanks; he’d been using them as tractors to plow his poppy fields. Tarik’s second cousin owned a platoon of 125mm guns, fairly long-range artillery. A third cousin ran his own personal army the next mountain over. Again Tarik assured Fox these cousins would do just about anything for their kinsman. Fox asked Tarik to intercede on his behalf and the tribal leader agreed. They shook hands and then kissed cheeks, sealing the deal.

Then Tarik turned back to the ruins again. Nothing over a foot tall had been left standing. Sharif’s compound looked like a small atomic bomb had hit it. “I have one more question,” Tarik said.

Fox replied: “Go ahead.”

“Why are you really doing this?” he asked unexpectedly. “I mean, what is your true reason for going after the Patch? I’ve dealt with the CIA before. I’ve dealt with the American military before. But you people—you are not like them. You are like characters in a book.

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