JUNE 7, 2008
DUBAI
It was early morning and the sun was just beginning to rise, shining on the Persian Gulf. Bryan was looking out the window of his Burj al Arab hotel room and thinking about the leads on the terrorists he had so far. His cell phone rang. It was DJ.
“Mornin boss – aye’ve got some answers for ya,” DJ said. “Aye got three matches an aye’ve forwarded everthin ta the FBI. They’re workin to find the two o the blokes now.”
“I thought you said there were three,” Bryan said.
“Yeh, aye did say that, but one of em doesn’t make sense,” DJ said. “’is name’s ‘anif Zar Wali.”
“Zar Wali’s dead,” Bryan exclaimed, waking up Shannon, who was curled up on the sofa under a blanket.
“Aye told ya it wouldn’t make a bit o’ sense. But another thing - aye thought the bloke looked familiar when aye saw his mug shot an aye was right - e was at yer bloody camel race.” Bryan checked his Email for the JPEGs.
“Are you sure?” Bryan asked, in disbelief.
‘Look et the next JPEG boss, aye pu’ a beard on ‘im. Maybe ye’ll recognize ‘im now?”
DJ was right it was the same man; they matched. Bryan was looking at a ghost.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll be damned - that’s why I thought the son of a bitch looked familiar,” Bryan said. “Well it’s a certainty that Hanif Zar Wali’s dead, so who’s the look-a-like?”
“’It’s my conclusion boss. Has ta be his identical twin. It’s the only possible conclusion, aye mean FaceScan es always right.”
“And he’s associated with Rowley, no doubt about that,” Bryan said. “Shannon, dig up everything you can on Mister Mohammed. Let’s see if we can link these two. Thanks DJ.”
“Ya got it, boss. Cheers,” DJ said, hanging up.
The news was disconcerting to a degree, calling for more unanswered questions. The first thing was to investigate Hanif Zar Wali’s twin, bring him in for questioning if possible.
“Obviously we want to keep this quiet,” Shannon said.
“Yeah, I don’t want Rowley suspicious.”
“Tell me more about Hanif Zar Wali,” Shannon asked, now fully awake.
Bryan delved into story of Hanif Zar Wali for Shannon. “He was picked up in the early days of Enduring Freedom - same time frame as Abdul-Malik.”
“Afghanistan?”
“Northeast, in the foothills of the Hindu Kush. He and Malik both were thought to have been at a camp that we took out. They may have been two of the only survivors.”
“Right, now I remember something about that – Hanif Zar Wali died in the infirmary at Gitmo. It was thought initially that his death may have been caused by abusive tactics of the CIA or military interrogators,” Shannon said, now vividly recalling the details. “That caused a stir.”
“Yeah, until they figured that he’d suffered a concussion when he was first captured in battle and had a brain aneurism waiting to pop. The NIS got involved – JAG was lookin into possible charges against a Navy SEAL,” Bryan said as his thoughts went back to Afghanistan seven years before. “During a hearing in front of the investigators, it was asked how the militant was apprehended, you know – what sort of force was used.”
“They were in a combat area, aren’t you supposed to use force?” Shannon asked.
“It was a Marine Corps JAG with a bug up his ass, fishing for anything – he was standin there demanding, ‘What did you do to subdue him?’ The reply was that Zar Wali had been hit,” Bryan said with a short chuckle.
“Did you say the SEAL responded that he hit him?”
“Yeah, that’s what he said, but the SEAL’s counsel, a Marine Captain, jumped up and said ‘Well I believe that it’s already been stated, under oath, that poor Mister Zar Wali was found asleep in back of an outhouse and was apprehended after having been given a butt-strike.’”
“What’s a butt-strike?” Shannon asked.
“Same thing the Major wanted to know. And the Marine Captain went on to describe it as a ‘Method of delivering a good ole shoein’ when your fists are full of rifle and a boot’s also otherwise occupied – as in the case of the Navy SEAL, who had his boot on the combatant’s throat, one fist full of his rifle and the other full of his gun,’” Bryan said, now laughing.
“What?”
Still laughing, Bryan continued, “The Marine Captain, a Southern guy from Alabama, was just makin a fool of the investigator, then said ‘A butt-strike is just a good ole fashioned shoein’ with the rifle. You simply bring the non-shooty end of the implement into contact with the head, balls or other interestin’ part of whoever is in one’s bad-graces at the time.’ Case closed.”
“Maybe his twin doesn’t think the case is closed though,” Shannon said.
“Getting revenge, a new caliphate, to reclaim old territory – what’s the common ground?” Bryan asked.
“You just answered your own question Bryan. It’s all common to fanatical Islamists.”
“Fanatical was the best way to describe Hanif Zar Wali,” Bryan said. “Maybe this twin is just as fanatical.”
“Weren’t tapes recovered from the camp?”
“Videos of both Malik and Hanif training along with other recruits. More accurately, it was Hanif that was actually conducting the training. He’d been a hard core terrorist with plenty of training, a member of the Pakistani army, and assignments that included cross training with U.S. Special forces prior to 9/11.”
“And he was a double agent?”
“He looked and played the part of the best of the best Pakistani soldier, but was really working for the other side. Very intelligent and highly skilled, he would’ve been extremely valuable if we’d been able to keep him alive. Strange event happened though.”
“What’s that?” Shannon asked.
“Before goin’ to Gitmo, he’d been detained at a Pakistani facility and they had an uprising there – a few other detainees escaped – a guard was killed, and when order was restored they found Zar Wali unconscious. He’d been perfectly fine prior to that,” Bryan said, stopping for a moment. “He came to, but was never quite the same – in and out of consciousness all the way to Gitmo. Doctors said he was delusional and died very shortly after arriving of a ruptured brain aneurism.”
“Maybe that was a good thing. At least he wouldn’t have been released. Think about how much worse it could have been now,” Shannon said.
“Oh, he never would have been released. Trust my face on that one, Shannon,” Bryan assured her.
“Just curious about one thing that you never mentioned though,” Shannon said.
“What’s that?”
“Did you know the Navy SEAL, I mean did he work for you?” Shannon asked earnestly.
“Why, do you want to do a profile on him?”
“Just might, you know, you never can tell,” she said with a wry smile from the corner of her mouth. “So did you know him?”
“You can say that.”
“Who was he?”
Bryan looked at her coldly, unblinking, emotionless. “I was the Navy SEAL.”
No comments:
Post a Comment