Brannigan, liking her right away, laughed. 'I truly apologize. And Murchison should have said he was with a charming young lady.'
'You're most gallant,' Penny said, smiling at the compliment.
'Sir,' Murchison said, suppressing a chuckle. 'This is Penny Brubaker, who works with the UN relief group. We're old friends from way back. She has some information she'd like to pass on to you.'
'I just mentioned a situation to Chad,' Penny said. 'My boss, Dr. Bouchier, can do nothing about it. Chad said you could help.'
'What's going on?'
'We've learned through our interpreters that this warlord, or whatever he is, has slaves,' Penny explained. 'He is not allowing them the benefits we are giving the other people.'
'I'll get my cover,' Brannigan said. 'Take me to the doctor.'
.
DR. B0UCHIER'S TENT
1730 HOURS LOCAL
THE doctor sat in the folding chair across from Brannigan. They sipped brandy from a couple of goblets that Bouchier kept in a special trunk along with other luxury items he allowed himself. He not only had Italian brandy, but could also boast of French champagne, Danish vodka and other expensive liquor. Additionally, he possessed bartending implements and an assortment of glasses in which to mix his favorite libations.
Brannigan had come over expecting an argument when it came to the matter of the slaves owned by the warlord. But he found that Bouchier not only had no objections if the SEAL officer chose to deal with the problem of the captive laborers, but encouraged him to take action.
'I am tightly bound by regulations,' Bouchier explained, swirling his brandy around in his glass. 'We in the UN must be exceedingly careful that we do not trespass into specific areas that deal with matters that are rather sensitive. Do you understand what I am saying?'
'Of course,' Brannigan said. 'It's a lot like what I have to put up with. There are times when I feel very strong about blowing certain people or places off the face of the earth. I realize that the world would be better off without them, but I can't do a thing because of orders or regulations.'
'But you say you can deal with this warlord?'
'I defeated him in battle,' Brannigan said. 'I've been assured this gives me a certain leverage with the man. He evidently feels he has something to lose if any big trouble occurs around here.'
'That is correct:' Bouchier said. 'It would interfere with the opium trade. It would be exceedingly costly to him if that enterprise was taken away.'
'I'm not concerned with that,' Brannigan said. 'All I want to deal with are those poor bastards he thinks he owns. Will you be able to help them?'
'I'll see that they are given priority over the others when they appear at our camp:' Bouchier assured him.
Brannigan finished his brandy. 'It may take a day or two, but I'll have them here.' He stood up and offered his hand. 'Nice to do business with you, Doctor.'
'Likewise, monsieur le lieutenant.'
.
UN RELIEF CAMP
4 SEPTEMBER
0845 HOURS LOCAL
ACTING under Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan's extremely stern orders, Warlord Hassan Khamami smothered both his pride and his anger to send his chief lieutenant, Ahmet Kharani, with a party of guards, over to the Dharyan camp to gather up the slaves.
The UN relief workers had seen much human suffering in their experiences with bringing aid to victimized peoples, and the Dharyans weren't the worse by far. They were not walking skeletons covered with sores, but it was obvious they had been badly used by their masters. The clan was malnourished, dressed in rags and suffered from various ailments brought on by the mistreatment.
As soon as they arrived at the relief camp, the slaves were quickly and efficiently split up by sex and age. After the proper grouping was accomplished, they were further divided according to their physical conditions. Many of the men, though in need of sustenance, had a natural strength that served them well. The women, on the other hand, were all in terrible shape. Giving birth had sapped their strength, and their men had kept them pregnant as if it were a divine command sent down to them from Allah. The children they brought into the world showed the effects of suckling at the breasts of malnourished mothers. On two occasions, UN workers gently but firmly pried dead infants from the arms of delirious young women who had been carrying them around several days after death.
At that point, Dr. Bouchier decided to forgo any medical treatment for the moment. That was just as well because all the Dharyans had any interest in was getting something to eat. When the first packets were passed out, the hungry people quickly tore them open to scarf down whatever victuals needed no cooking.
Even as they consumed the packages of dried fruit, energy bars and candy, they were herded over to a spot where tents had been erected for them by mujahideen who had survived the battle with the SEALs. This camp also included blankets, along with cooking pots and utensils. The clan leader took over from the UN at that point. His name was Bashar Dahrain, and he was a young man aged far beyond his years. He quickly prodded and hollered at his people until the various family groups were properly installed in individual tents.
Within a quarter of an hour pots of rice were hanging over fires while wheat flour was being molded into dough for bread. Penny Brubaker and her small team went from family to family, passing out powdered milk and nursing formula. The interpreters gave quick and adequate instruction on how to use the plastic bottles and nipples to feed the babies. The mothers, ecstatic with the knowledge that they could now give nourishment to their infants, turned their attention from the cooking tasks to see to the feeding of the little ones. Older daughters and nieces took over the other chores.
Dr. Bouchier gazed at the tents with his assistant surgeon. 'We'll take care of the medical examinations tomorrow.' He looked over at the edge of the camp, noting the arrival of a half dozen SEALs. 'C' est bon! Lieutenant Brannigan has sent some of his men to make sure these poor people are not molested.'
The assistant surgeon, a pacifist Canadian, shook his head in dismay. 'If only we could accomplish our goals without help from the military.'
.
BRANNIGAN'S CP
1400 HOURS LOCAL
THE Dharyan clan chief Bashar Dahrain and the UN interpreter entered Brannigan's tent. He offered them seats on a couple of camp stools. He remained standing, his arms across his chest. 'What can I do for you?'
The interpreter was a Kabul city youth dressed in Western clothing. He spoke English with a combination of American and British inflexions. 'Mr. Dahrain wishes to express his most sincere gratitude for the help you have given his people. They now have their freedom and are being helped back to their former lives. He wishes for Allah to bestow countless blessings on you:'
'All right,' Brannigan said. 'Tell him that he's welcome.'
The interpreter spoke to the Dharyan for a few moments, then turned back to the American. 'Mr. Dahrain begs your pardon, but he must ask you for more help. He says that his people have not all been freed by the warlord. He says there are eighteen young women who are still held in the fortress. He humbly pleads for you to see that they are rejoined with their families.' The interpreter paused for a moment. 'Dr. Bouchier is aware of this situation and also requests your help. He has dealt with similar cases in the past. He feels the women will need medical attention even more than the ones he has already seen:'
Brannigan was puzzled. 'Why is the warlord holding these females?'
'I fear he has forced them to become inmates of a brothel, sir,' the interpreter said. 'They have been outraged now for many months by the mujahideen.'
'Tell this gentleman that those unfortunate women will be taken to the UN clinic before this day is out,' Brannigan said. 'And I will need your services as an interpreter to put this crappy situation right.'
'I will be only too glad to serve you, sir.'
