Fayaz made it clear to Baseer and his shura that Harvath had the biggest stick in the room. He could call upon American and NATO militaries at will and they would do his bidding, including leveling this village with a massive airstrike.
As Daoud translated, Harvath was concerned that Fayaz might be laying it on a bit too thick, but if there was one thing the Afghans recognized and respected instantly, it was force. Watching the faces of Baseer and his fellow shura members, it was clear that Fayaz’s words were sinking in.
Baseer looked at Harvath finally and said, “You have come for the woman?”
“Yes, we have,” Harvath replied through Daoud.
“Mullah Massoud is one of the most powerful Taliban commanders in all of Afghanistan. If he had caught you here, he would have killed you.”
“But he is not here, is he?”
“Na,” replied Baseer. “He is not.”
Harvath had been right, but there was little satisfaction in the knowledge. The important thing was getting Julia Gallo back safely. Removing his cell phone, Harvath showed Baseer the pictures he had taken and said, “We know the woman was held here and I have proof. I have sent these pictures to the American military commanders at Bagram. They know and I know that Mullah Massoud couldn’t have kept Dr. Gallo here without your knowledge. Because of this, we make no distinction between you and the Taliban. If you do not cooperate with us, airstrikes will be launched immediately against your village. There will be nothing left here but dust.”
Harvath was bluffing again, of course, but he’d dealt with enough village elders in his day to know that their primary obligation wasn’t to a man like Massoud, but to the people of their village, whom the Taliban relentlessly manipulated, extorted, and hid behind.
“Give me the woman,” added Harvath, “and we will go in peace.”
Baseer shook his head. “I warned Massoud that taking her would be bad for our village.”
“He should have listened to you.”
“The only person he listens to is himself.”
“And the Russian,” offered one of the other elders.
Harvath’s eyes studied the man as the interpreter translated his remark. “It sounds like this Russian has also caused much trouble for your village,” said Harvath.
“Too much trouble-” continued the elder until Baseer held up his hand to quiet him.
“Did Massoud order him to kill Elam Badar?”
Baseer nodded. “Massoud was afraid that Elam Badar might tell the Americans about his prisoner.”
“Who is the Russian? A mercenary?” asked Harvath.
Harvath studied the faces of the shura after his question had been translated, but none of them appeared anxious to answer it. Having already threatened to use his stick, he knew it was time to dangle a carrot.
“If you help me, I can help you,” said Harvath. “I am in a position to be extremely generous.”
“How generous?” asked Baseer.
“That all depends. What do you need?”
“We want a small hydroelectric dam built at the bottom of our valley. We also want new roads built.”
Harvath thought about it. “These are both very important projects. Control over such projects would not only increase your village’s wealth and power, but also the authority of your shura.”
“And we want generators,” said Baseer, “until we can generate enough power ourselves.”
The elder certainly wasn’t shy with his list of requests. “If you give me what I want,” replied Harvath, “I will do everything I can to help you secure these things for your village.”
Baseer listened to the interpreter’s translation and then conversed briefly with his fellow elders. Turning back to Harvath, he said, “We only know the Russian by his Afghan name, Bakht Rawan. He is not a mercenary.”
“What is he?”
“He is a Russian intelligence agent.”
Harvath looked at Gallagher and then back to the chief elder. “What’s his connection with Massoud?”
“The Russians never really left Afghanistan,” said the chief elder. “Not completely. Many supported and maintained intelligence networks throughout the country. Massoud was the Russian’s student. He helped place Massoud in the NDS.”
“Massoud was in the NDS?” replied Harvath.
“Hoo,” said Baseer. “But he grew tired of it. He wanted to change Afghanistan, and for him, the Taliban was his answer.”
“What about for you?”
“I have never believed in the Taliban,” replied the elder.
Right answer, thought Harvath. Now let’s see if he can keep them going. “And what does all of this have to do with kidnapping Dr. Gallo?”
Baseer looked at him and spoke slowly so Daoud could translate. “They offered to give you the woman back if you freed Mustafa Khan from prison, correct?”
Harvath nodded.
“What they didn’t tell you was that the Russian was the one who helped the Afghan National Army locate and capture Khan in the first place.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would they do that?”
The elder looked at Harvath and asked, “What do you know about the Lake of Broken Glass?”
CHAPTER 45
“I’ve never heard of any Lake of Broken Glass,” replied Harvath.
“It is a story,” said Baseer. “A fantasy.”
“Then why are we talking about it?”
“Because the Russian was obsessed with it.”
Harvath looked at Gallagher. “Have you ever heard of this lake?”
Baba G shook his head. “No, but I’m not exactly the resident expert on Afghan folklore.”
Harvath turned back to the elder and through Daoud said, “How does this fit in with Dr. Gallo’s kidnapping?”
“Afghanistan,” the elder responded, “can seem like a puzzle. To understand it, you must put the pieces together correctly. Even if some of the pieces are only a fantasy. Through his network, the Russian became convinced that the Lake of Broken Glass was not a fantasy, but in fact a reality.”
“So what is the Lake of Broken Glass?” Harvath asked.
“It is where Sheik Osama is said to have hidden all of his riches.”
“Bin Laden?”
Baseer nodded. “Before his attacks on New York and Washington, he knew his money would not be safe in bank accounts. People say he took all of his money from these banks and used it to buy diamonds.”
“I think I actually read something about that,” said Gallagher.
“Me too,” replied Harvath. “It’s not a bad idea. Diamonds are easy to hide. They retain their value and they’re virtually untraceable.”
“They’re also easily converted to cash and can be transported anywhere in the world without dogs being able to sniff them or setting off alarms.”
“So how does this Lake of Broken Glass fit in?” Harvath asked.
“Sheik Osama was said to have hidden his diamonds in a cave somewhere in Afghanistan. To keep them from being stolen, he then had the cave flooded with water. Eventually, the wooden cases used to store the stones rotted away and the diamonds spilled out across the cave floor. The diamonds are said to sparkle so brightly that the flooded cave looks like a lake of broken glass.”
The Afghans loved their tall tales, and while obviously the story had been embellished as it passed through the Afghan grapevine, Harvath couldn’t help but wonder if there was something there. He remembered hearing testimony released after one of the first Gitmo trials that spoke of an Afghan man who had drowned with his
