However, as a sign of respect, his followers refer to him as Orakzai Mesher. It identifies him as the leader.
Right, Sikes said. I'm right pleased to make your acquaintance, Orakzai Mesher. Me lads call me Sikes Bey, yeah? I reckon that makes me a leader too.
I am familiar with the term, Orakzai said. I shall see to it that my people show you that respect.
Now, I appreciate that, Sikes said. I'm hoping the day will come when I got enough men under me command to be called Sikes Pasha.
You are indeed an ambitious man, Sikes Bey, Orakzai said. You are obviously not an American. I had many dealings with the CIA and am familiar with their pattern of speech. What would be your nationality?
I'm British, but I've converted to Islam and I speak Arabic. I took the name Arsalaan. They tell me it means lionhearted. I kept me family name.
Why did you not care to switch to one in Arabic? Orakzai asked.
I got a score to settle, Sikes said. I was in the British Army, see? I was a good soldier and they was gonna make me an officer, but not in the regiment I wanted. They said I wasn't the right social type. I want 'em to hear me name and know they made one great big fucking mistake by the snobby way they treated me.
I understand, the Pashtun said, thinking the Brits were as profane as the Yanks. My people have a long history of fighting the British. We have tales of long ago when some came over to our side and joined us. They also converted to Islam. Several became great leaders.
I'm glad to hear that, Sikes said. But I ain't surprised they changed sides like me, yeah? The old class system is alive and well in some places, hey? It ain't fair to keep good men down.
I have been informed that you brought twenty fighters with you, Orakzai said. You understand you will be under my command.
I got no problem with that, Orakzai Mesher. And me and the lads is ready for action.
Excellent! Most of our activities involve getting opium poppy powder through Afghanistan and Iran into Turkey, Orakzai said. But now and then, we ambush Afghan Army motor patrols in the passes through these mountains.
I'd like to show me stuff if you'd let me have a go, Sikes said.
I shall do just that, Sikes Bey, Orakzai said. It is my intention to send my number-one man, Khushahal Shinwari, along with you. He can take you to a good place where the Afghans drive by regularly.
I shall go along too, Khadid said, then added, With your permission.
Of course, Orakzai said. He emitted a loud whistle that brought the guard in. Go fetch Shinwari. Tell him I want to speak with him. As soon as the man left, Orakzai turned his attention back to Sikes. Take a seat, if you please. We shall have some refreshments while we discuss your coming battle.
.
THE SPINDRIFTS, RHODE ISLAND
26 APRIL
0600 HOURS
PENNY Brubaker had been awake for more than two hours, sitting in the east wing guest room as she gazed out over Narragansett Bay, still wrapped in the early morning fog. She was visiting her maiden aunt Beatrice Brubaker, who had the estate in the exclusive neighborhood known locally as the Spindrifts. Many wealthy New England families had been spending the warmest months of the year in that area for over a century. Each summer since the 1880s, the mothers and children would be taken down to their luxurious summer homes by husbands and fathers. As soon as the spouses and offspring were settled, the males would hie back to Boston to tend to business and mistresses.
Now, with other places beckoning to families for their vacations, only the eldest members of these moneyed dynasties visited the Spindrifts. Aunt Beatrice was one of those who never lost her fondness for the old place. It was five years ago when she decided to leave Boston and make the spot her permanent home. However, she kept the guest facilities available for any Brubaker kin who wished to visit.
Penny, enduring delayed-stress syndrome, was now taking advantage of that standing offer.
WHEN Penny Brubaker returned to the States from Afghanistan, she had resigned from service in the UN, wanting only to let that part of her life drift away into distant memory, and the sooner the better. She immediately went on a shopping spree that covered both Boston and New York City as she revamped her wardrobe and prepared to return to her former life.
She contacted old girlfriends to get back into the party scene, but the young woman found out that her experiences overseas had left her much like a soldier lately returned from war. She had seen too much of the world's worst circumstances not to have it affect her. The young people her age seemed immature and blissfully ignorant of real life. Penny watched her female friends flirt in singles bars as the guys tried to impress them and pick them up. The would-be suitors complimented them, bought them drinks, and did their best to win them over, using gentle persuasion and as much charm as they could muster.
Penny remembered a refugee camp in the Sudan where Arab raiders and plunderers would come into an area looking for women. Their victims had no choice but to carefully lay their infants aside, hoping the children would not be harmed. Then they were forced to submit to gang rape through entire nights before being allowed to return to the miserable shelters awaiting them in the crude bivouacs. No coquetry and sexy teasing as in big-city bars occurred out in that awful desert. Nor were the men's advances refused. Such effrontery would result in a severe beating at the least, and death at the most.
Penny was not favorably impressed with the young men in the dating game either. They seemed shallow, their lives pointless and self-absorbed, as if the world had been created for their enjoyment and benefit. Most were yuppie types working in white-collar jobs with exaggerated feelings about their real worth. When she compared them with Chad Murchison and his SEAL buddies, they came up woefully short. Nor did they measure up to the men working in the UNREO camps who didn't earn much money but made important contributions to the betterment of the world while putting up with crude conditions and extreme danger.
Penny finally became so disgusted with the singles scene that when she wished to go out for an evening's entertainment, she contacted one of the loan officers who worked in her family's bank. He was a very nice fellow by the name of Henry who was gay. He was willing to take her out now and then for dinner and dancing, and she didn't have to worry about him making any moves on her.
NOW Penny turned from the window and went back to the bed, crawling under the covers. Constant thinking about Chad had caused her so much distress and heartache that she had finally escaped the hectic activities of Boston to find some peace and solitude at Aunt Beatrice's place in the Spindrifts. She had written him a letter, but he had not yet answered it.
Because of her return to America, Penny now understood Chad a lot better. There was absolutely no way he would fit back into his former life even if he lived to be a hundred. The old Chad was gone forever, and she realized she loved this new Chad a lot more than the former. Eventually, he would return to the SEALs' home base in California when his overseas tour was completed.
And Penny Brubaker would be there waiting for him.
.
GHARAWDARA HIGHLANDS
27 APRIL
0915 HOURS
THE Afghan Army convoy of four Volkswagen 183 Iltis light utility vehicles rolled along the road that cut through the mountain pass. The commander was a young junior lieutenant by the name of Khalili who was riding in the second vehicle. He was twenty years old, eager, good-humored, and always volunteered for this assignment on a patrol into the Gharawdara Highlands. It was good to get out of the garrison, and sometimes the Pashtuns would spring a hasty ambush on them. There was always lots of shooting, ricochets zinging off into the air, and yelling as the convoy rushed through the fusillades. But there had never been any casualties on either side, and it was no more than a very exciting game. He even loved writing home about it, exaggerating the adventure to make his parents think he was a real warrior.
The enemy generally made the attacks in the morning, as if anxious to get them over with before going back to their hideout higher up in the mountains. Khalili had been making the run for almost a year now, and they had never been hit on the way back to the garrison, although sometimes Pashtuns would be sighted looking down on them. During those instances, his soldiers exchanged shouted insults with the observers.
