Even with the mules, most of the men were burdened with more than they preferred to carry. Padgett- Smith’s early confidence wilted visibly when she hefted Bosco’s gear. “My lord!” she exclaimed. “That must be fifty pounds.”
“More like seventy, ma’am,” Boscombe replied. He knew that it was twenty-eight kilograms, but he believed in rounding up from sixty-two pounds.
The immunologist immediately sensed a male-female tiff brewing. She decided to defuse it by defaulting to her Scarlett O’Hara mode. “My
Bosco was bright but he was also susceptible to feminine wiles. “Ah, you get used to it, ma’am. I…” He caught himself at the last second.
Lee came by, saving Bosco from further discomfort. “Ah, Dr. Smith, if your gear is ready we’ll put it on the mules.” The bespectacled officer was careful to maintain a neutral tone in his voice, lest Padgett-Smith infer veiled criticism. She had prepared a day pack with enough food and water for twelve hours at a stretch; the rest went on the reddish jenny known as Taqat. CPS inferred that the name indicated strength or endurance.
Rustam Khan also was attentive to the mules. “Doctor, the handlers say this animal is the steadiest, so we will put your equipment and personal items on her. The other two will carry extra food, water, tents, and weapons. They will also have some medical supplies in case we meet people who might need help, which is of course our cover story. Dr. Chaudhry will deal with those cases, of course.”
“Of course.” Padgett-Smith had only briefly met her Pakistani colleague. He was courteous but remote, probably uncomfortable with a female of any variety taking the field. But since he was subordinate to Khan, she surmised that the major would continue running interference for her.
Kassim had news of the newcomers.
“My scouts found the medical team yesterday and remained hidden when it stopped for the night. There are more than twelve people, including foreigners. One of my men saw an armed guard dig a hole and void his bowels.” Kassim paused for emphasis. “The guard wiped himself with his right hand.”
Ali sat back, rubbing his chin, reflecting that Satan eats with his left hand. “So the guards are infidels. Maybe all of them are.”
“No, Doctor. The animal handlers all seemed to speak Urdu. And there was at least one man who is almost certainly a Pakistani Army officer. But several men spoke English. So did the woman.”
Ali sat bolt upright. “What?”
“Yes, one of the strangers is female. She wears men’s clothing and tries to disguise her face. She is definitely not Muslim — I questioned my men closely.”
“One woman traveling with a dozen men, on foot, in rough terrain. Presumably bringing medical aid to the poor.” Ali’s eyes tracked back and forth, as if seeing the camp layout. “Did these strangers treat any people?”
“Some. But they kept moving most of the time. They only seemed to provide the most basic treatment to a few farmers or travelers they met.” Kassim organized his thoughts, focusing on evidence rather than supposition. “One of my scouts doubled back and talked to a few people who had dealt with the medical team. They had received bandages, water purification tablets, a few pills for diarrhea and the like.”
“What did the woman do?”
Kassim shrugged. “I do not know. But as I said, my scouts only trailed them from late afternoon onward.”
“Very well, Kassim. Your men did well. Please tell them that we will arrange a surprise meeting with these people tomorrow.”
The Syrian turned to go. Abruptly he stopped and turned. “Oh, there is one thing about the woman. She carries a rifle.”
Kassim’s tone was flat, unemotional. Ali’s blood pounded in his temples as he absorbed the blasphemy.
As Kassim departed, Ali raised his hands and eyes to the heavens, giving silent thanks for what had been delivered to him. When his senses returned to earth, he said, “So nice to meet you, Dr. Padgett-Smith.”
25
Kassim had doubts.
“Doctor, I understand your eagerness to eliminate these strangers, especially if they are as you suspect. But I have few reliable fighters anymore. It takes time to grow
Ali exuded cool confidence. In truth, he had anticipated his colleague’s objections and was prepared for them. “You are correct, my brother. Nor would I dispute your knowledge of… such things. But consider this: your new men are excellent at scouting and observation. This opportunity will give them small unit combat experience. Their numbers almost equal the infidels: with surprise they will surely succeed.”
The veteran
Ali rose from his rough desk and placed his hands on Kassim’s shoulders. “My brother — my friend — I shall do you the honor of speaking bluntly. I cannot spare you, and with your wooden foot, you would be at greater risk.” The vet shook his head. “No, Kassim. You must remain behind.”
Kassim capitulated with atypical good grace. He was accustomed to having his way in tactical matters, but he recognized the wisdom of his superior’s argument.
He also realized that Dr. Ali was willing to lose every man the Syrian had recruited and trained in the past several months in exchange for comparable losses among the Americans. And their British she-devil immunologist.
Lee was going to call a halt for the evening when the RPD gunner opened fire from barely forty meters uphill. Ollie Norton went down hard with the radio. Depending upon their training, judgment, or inclination, everybody else returned fire, hit the deck, or assaulted through the kill zone.
The mules brayed in panic, whipped their leads from the handlers, and fled as fast as four hooves would take them.
Lee had been on the receiving end of an ambush before. He knew that delay could be fatal, so he shouted for the nearest men to follow him. Bosco, Breezy, and a Pakistani joined him, sweeping the nearest rocks and foliage with full auto fire, clearing a path twenty meters wide. Reaching temporary safety, they knew the drill. “Cover!” Lee shouted.
“Covering!” Bosco replied.
Lee dumped his empty magazine, speed reloaded, chambered a round, and yelled “Ready!”
Bosco and Breezy hollered “Cover!” simultaneously. Lee responded, “Covering.” He scythed a short burst in the direction of the RPD. Seconds later the two partners called “Ready!”
The Pakistani soldier drew a G3 magazine, then calmly reloaded. Bosco thought,
Lee looked around, trying to assess the situation. He badly wanted to regroup his dispersed team, lest it be destroyed in detail. He called out. “Rustam! You there?”
Khan responded from fifteen meters to the right rear. “Back here! We’re covering Hendricks.” The firefight
