The terms for Warris’s release, presented by the man

himself in the video, were quite simple: Stop all construc-

tion in Senjaray. Pull the U.S. Army company out. Pay

the equivalent of five hundred thousand American dol-

lars. Release nearly a dozen captured Taliban fighters and

leaders.

I was sitting in the comm center on a conference video

call with General Keating, Lieutenant Colonel Gordon,

and Harruck’s battalion commander.

“We’re not going to negotiate with these bastards,”

said Keating. “And I’m going to make sure we step up

our timetable. I want a full-scale raid to happen within

the next seven days. I want to make that happen. I don’t

care what it takes.”

Gordon just shrugged.

Harruck’s boss was a yes man.

I shook my head in disgust.

“Mitchell, you got a problem with all this?”

“Sir, you told me I wouldn’t have any air support for

this mission, and unless that’s changed, we’ll be moving

in much too slowly with a large force. Zahed’s got spies

planted all over this district. He’ll see our ground forces

coming in, and he’ll be out of there long before they

206 GH OS T RE CON

arrive. You won’t get him, and I doubt you’ll get Warris.

We need to be dropped by chopper. Shock and awe.

That’s the only way it’ll work.”

“I’d have to agree with Mitchell,” said Harruck. “We

can’t afford to blow this. We can’t afford any counterat-

tacks down here. We’re making great progress so far.”

I sat there, debating whether I should tell them about

Burki and my plan to have a face-to-face meeting with

Zahed. Part of me considered the idea that if I managed

to bring in the guy alive, I’d be a hero and they could

call off the whole offensive and save the taxpayers a lot of

money. The other part of me, the realist, said, no, that

probably wouldn’t happen; the offensive would go on

because Keating was very upset now, and the old man

would have his blood. So nabbing Zahed wouldn’t affect

that outcome.

But I was intrigued by the idea of talking to Zahed.

Perhaps I was suicidal, but the fat man had caused so

much trouble in the area, created so many headaches, that

I just wouldn’t be satisfied until I met him in the flesh.

And if I presented that cup of soup to “the commit-

tee,” they’d all want to pee in it, thinking it’d taste bet-

ter. A crude but accurate metaphor.

Perhaps, I quipped to myself, we should change our

name to Rogue Recon.

Then I realized once again that if I didn’t tell them

what I had in mind, we’d be digging ourselves deeper

graves. So I just took a breath and spilled the beans:

“Gentlemen, I’m in the process of setting up a meet-

ing with Zahed.”

CO MB AT O P S

207

“Are you serious, Mitchell?” asked Keating.

“Yes, General, I am. One of my contacts in the village

works for the water man, who wants me to kill Zahed.

My contact has a cousin who works for the fat man him-

self. Let me go in there and talk to them.”

“No, not you, Mitchell,” snapped Harruck. “We’ll

send in a professional negotiator.”

I started laughing. “I’ve got the translator, and

they’re setting me up as an opium smuggler, so once I

get in there, we’ll spring the trap on Zahed. There won’t

be any negotiations.”

“Now that sounds like a plan,” said Keating. “We don’t

sit around and chat while they’re about to chop the head

off an American soldier. What do you need, Mitchell?”

I faced Harruck and the others on their screens. “I

just need to be left alone so I can do my job, sir. And I

need evac when the fireworks begin.”

Harruck was shaking his head. “General, with all due

respect, sir, don’t you think an ambush operation like

this can do more harm than good? If Mitchell fails,

they’ll behead Warris on TV, and they’ll all be gone

before we can launch our offensive. It’s a lose-lose, if you

ask me.”

“We didn’t ask you, Captain. And Mitchell will not

fail.”

Keating looked at me.

I gave him a curt nod. “My team is heading up into the

mountains tonight. There’s a small cave network they’ll

try to use to get down into the valley and attack the school

and police station. We’re going to blow it up.”

208 GH OS T RE CON

“Maybe we should delay that operation until you

meet with Zahed,” said Gordon.

“Colonel, I’d prefer to take care of that first.” I gave

Gordon an emphatic look.

“All right, Captain, understood.”

I wanted to blow the caves first in case I didn’t make

it back. Maybe I was growing a soft heart, but I kept

imagining Anderson standing out there with those con-

struction workers and those school kids and all of them

dying under a hail of bullets. The cave network, like the

bridge we’d blown, was an avenue of approach that needed

to be eliminated.

After the meeting, Harruck pulled me aside and said,

“I’ll have a Bradley and rifle squad ready for you.”

I softened my tone. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry, Scott, but this is, as far as I’m concerned,

the beginning of the end for you.”

“Why’s that?”

“If you do get that meeting with Zahed, I don’t think

you’ll come back. I think you’re making a huge mistake.

I don’t know what this is about . . . your ego . . . you try-

ing to prove something to higher. You should’ve been

relieved.”

“And that’s the difference between you and me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got faith in that fat old bastard.”

“Zahed?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

CO MB AT O P S

209

“Because I’ve got something he wants—all that water

from the new well. He’s been cut off. He won’t like it.”

“So what you’re saying is you are going to negotiate

with him.”

“Not exactly . . .”

I grinned because I couldn’t believe I’d used those

words, but I had.

T WENTY

About an hour before we were set to leave on the demo

mission, Harruck came out to our billet, and the expres-

sion on his face didn’t look promising. The guys groaned,

figuring the mission was off and that higher had more

politically correct plans in mind.

But it turned out that my sister had notified the Army

of my father’s passing. I wasn’t going to say anything,

not even to the team.

“Scott, I’m very sorry to hear about your father.” He

then explained how he’d heard.

“It’s all right. Thanks.”

“You should have told us. You need to go home. You

need to pay your respects.”

“Would that make it easier for you?”

CO MB AT O P S

211

He tensed, glanced away a moment, then faced me.

“Forget all this bullshit. I’m talking to you as a friend.”

“I thought our friendship was over.”

“I’m trying to keep this professional. Not personal.”