Page 23 of The Fourth Option
Asadabad, Kunar Province, Afghanistan
2020
THE MI-17 HELICOPTERshuddered, not from turbulence, but from the bite of a sharp banking turn. They were descending.
“Three minutes out,” the Afghan pilot called out over comms in English.
He had been trained to fly the Soviet-designed helicopter on night vision at Fort Rucker in Alabama under a nonstandard rotary wing aircraft project called the Mi-17 Aviator Training Program. The Agency-run Afghan Counterterrorism Pursuit Teams used them for air assault operations. Walker trusted them. As much as he trusted anyone.
He reached down and ran his fingers over the six mags in his chest rig.
“Copy,” he replied. “Do you have a visual?”
“Affirmative. I have visual on IR strobe. Raptor says the landing area is clear.”
Raptor was the call sign for the MC-12W Liberty twin-engine turboprop with electro-optical infrared sensors providing ISR to the assault force and the Zero Unit close target reconnaissance team already on the ground.
Walker removed the headset that connected him to the pilots and put on his Peltors and Ops-Core helmet, switching on the four-banger NODs before leaning over to Staub.
“About two minutes,” he shouted over the roar of the rotors. “Pilot has visual.”
Staub nodded and tapped the Afghan commando next to him.
“Two minutes,” he shouted to their terp, Ali, who passed the information in Pashto on the Afghan inner squad radio frequency.
The tan, brown, and green painted bird was one of two, each carrying fifteen Afghan commandos and two Americans toward their insert.All wore desert tiger-stripe uniforms with the black, red, and green flag of Afghanistan on one shoulder and their unit flag, consisting of a shield with crossed swords and wings, on the other. They were similarly kitted out in plate carriers, body armor, mags and mag pouches, blow-out kits, and radios. They each carried the ubiquitous black M4 rifle. All wore black balaclavas to cover their faces. Revenge, after all, was a concept deeply rooted in Pashtun culture.
They would land in a clearing and meet up with an element from the Afghan surveillance and reconnaissance unit that would lead them the ten kilometers to the target, where the other half of the surveillance team had eyes on the target building, the house Naji had taken photos and video of weeks earlier.
Naji had sold a large, expensive Tabriz rug to a courier for Hamid Abrar, the Haqqani commander who controlled the Taliban resupply routes in Waziristan. A miniature sensor developed by specialists from the Agency’s Office of Technical Service had been woven into the fabric, tracking back to Abrar’s suspected safe house outside of Asadabad. It had been proven to be a valuable asset.
The helos touched down moments later, unloaded the assault force and then once again clawed skyward, vanishing into the darkness as the teams formed hasty perimeters.
“Raptor, this is Viking, how are we looking?” Walker said into his mic as he pressed down on the transmit button of his radio that was linked with their overhead ISR asset.
“Viking, Raptor, you are clear. We’ll be with you all the way.”
“Good copy.”
Walker turned to Staub and Ali.
“Looking good. Let them know.”
Most of the Zero Unit operators spoke English, but using an interpreter was still the most effective way to communicate. Having a trusted and tactically savvy terp like Ali had become invaluable.
“Yes, sir. Moving out,” Ali said after a brief exchange with the Zero Unit commander.
After all these years of conflict, each Zero Unit operated as a finely tuned instrument. As they were ostensibly an independent host nation force, they did not have the red tape attached to missions that most of the U.S. military did. When night raids were curtailed by the American flagofficers in favor of a kinder and gentler approach to counterinsurgency, an approach that put the tactical-level soldiers at higher risk, the Zero Units could still operate with impunity, guided by the technical intelligence of the CIA.
Walker and Staub would advise the assault element while two other Agency GB contractors would advise the blocking and containment element. Nate was a former Marine sniper turned cop turned GB operator, call sign Psycho, while Dave was a retired sergeant major out of Delta Force, call sign Grouper. They had all worked together for years.
The Americans each wore two radios, one linked to the Zero Unit tactical frequency and one tuned to their own so they could communicate in English to coordinate command and control without stepping on the Afghans’ communications.
“Let’s go,” Walker said to Ali, who whispered to the Zero Unit commander.
A brief exchange in Pashto was communicated over the radio, and the two elements moved toward the tree line to link up with their recon unit.
They all knew their mission. They had done it a thousand times.
