The Apostle

“Yeah, he grew up in the U.K.”

“Well he’s one creepy son of a bitch. He keeps threatening us every time we open the door to his cage and I’m not talking run-of-the-mill, macho, I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass kind of stuff. He’s one sick motherfucker.”

“Don’t let him get to you,” said Harvath. “Do you guys need anything?”

“I need a couple more boxes of those XREPs.”

“Please don’t tell me you-”

“Yeah,” said Hoyt. “We fired all of them. And you know what? They work even better when you put the motherfucker’s feet in a bucket of water.”

“Damn it, Hoyt!” snapped Harvath. “That’s way out of line-”

“Relax,” replied Hoyt. “We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Not even when he tore into Midland?”

“All right, we messed him up once.”

“How bad?” asked Harvath.

“Flower beat the crap out of him. Midland and I had to pull him off. So much for Pashtunwali, eh?” said Hoyt with a chuckle.

“I told you the guy was dangerous. The only reason he got Mark’s ear was that he was probably aiming for his throat and missed. I don’t want you going into that room unless you absolutely have to. And if you do, and he moves, TASE him. That’s an order. Understand?”

“You got it, boss.”

“Good,” replied Harvath. “Let me know if Mark has any problems at the hospital. By the way, what’s he going to say anyway when the doctor asks him how it happened?”

“They’re picking up Mei along the way. They’re going to say it was rough sex.”

Harvath couldn’t believe his ears. “Now you’ve got Mei involved in this?”

“I’m just kidding,” said Hoyt. “Relax. Midland will say he tore his ear on a piece of sheet metal.”

“You keep screwing with me,” cautioned Harvath, “and I’m going to tear you on a piece of sheet metal.”

“I’m shaking in my saddle shoes here, Aquaman. Get back to work and find our doctor. We’ve got everything covered on this end.”

“If anything else happens with Khan, I want to know about it. Okay?”

“Roger that,” replied Hoyt.

Harvath disco

“What’s our status?” asked Gallagher as Harvath walked in.

Harvath couldn’t talk about Khan in front of Fontaine, so he stuck strictly to Julia Gallo. “We’ve got positive proof of life.”

Fontaine grabbed a large orange from the bowl in the center of the table and began peeling it. “So we’re a go for Khogyani?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s assume we get a meeting with the shura,” said Gallagher. “Then what?”

“The first thing I want is a tour of the village. We take as many pictures as we can and map as many GPS points as possible. We’ll push to look at everything. If they hold anything back or say that something is off-limits, we mark it as a location of interest.

“I want each of us pla

“What about this kid with the broken jaw?”

“Asadoulah Badar,” said Harvath.

Baba G nodded.

“We obviously can’t come right out and ask the shura about him. There’s no reason a bunch of NGO workers would know his name. We’d be blown right from the get-go.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Fontaine.

“We need to figure out a way to get them to offer him to us.”

“What do you mean by offer?”

Harvath pulled out another Motrin and reached for one of the bottles of water on the table.

“The way you’re going through those things,” interrupted Gallagher, “you should have a PEZ dispenser.”

“Do you think I can get a Jackie Collins one?” asked Harvath as he popped the painkiller and took a sip of water.

“You’re going to fry your liver and your kidneys if you keep knocking those things back like that.”

“Can we get back to Badar and the shura, please?”

Gallagher put up his hands in surrender and Harvath continued. “If we tell them we want to involve the young men of the village in the project as well, we might be able to arrange a casting call.

“After tea, we’ll do our tour, and while we’re touring, the shura can have the young men rounded up for us. We’ll then do a Q &A with the kids, ostensibly to select the best candidates. If one of them has a broken jaw, we’ll know.”

“And if they don’t bring him to the casting call?” asked Gallagher.

“Then we’ll ask the shura where the rest of the men in that age group are. We’ll tell them that we selected their village based in part on the number of young men in that age group who could help maintain the wells and irrigation systems and carry that knowledge to other villages within their tribe. We’ll call them water ambassadors or clean water warriors. I don’t really care. The point is that the shura should be concerned we’re going to pull the project because we’d expected more boys in that age group to be there. They’ll pony him up, even with the broken jaw. Trust me.”

“And then?” said Fontaine.

“And then,” replied Harvath, “we’ll divide them into teams and elect captains. Get the GPS devices out and act like they can actually seek out water. We’ll ask the kids on that team to show us where each of them live and we’ll tag Asadoulah’s house, assess the hell out of it in the short time we have, and come back for him later tonight.”

Gallagher sat back in his chair and smiled. “That’s got NGO written all over it. Not bad.”

Harvath was about to respond when his Afghan cell phone vibrated. Pulling it from his pocket, he activated the call. “Yes?”

A voice on the other end used the alias Harvath had given the CWI people. “Mr. Staley?” it asked.

“This is he,” replied Harvath.

“I am Ghazan Daoud. Your interpreter in Khogyani.”

“Yes, Mr. Daoud. Have you spoken with the village shura?”

“Mr. Staley, there is a big problem.”

Harvath could tell by the man’s voice that he was very upset. “First of all, calm down, Mr. Daoud. Tell me what the problem is.”

“There are soldiers everywhere.”

“Where?”

“Here in the village.”

“What kind of soldiers?” asked Harvath. “Taliban?”

“No, sir. NATO soldiers. They have the entire village surrounded.”

“Why? Why are they there?”

“I’m not sure,” said Daoud, “but there are three dead bodies outside right now.”

“Bodies of NATO soldiers?” asked Harvath.

“No. Afghans. Two of them were shot. I am afraid of what the NATO soldiers might do, Mr. Staley. I have tried to speak with them, but they will not listen to me. Are you near? Please say you are near.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Daoud. We are on our way and will be there as soon as we can. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Staley,” said the interpreter. “Please hurry.”

Harvath disco

“What was that all about?” asked Gallagher.

“A group of NATO troops just hit our village in Khogyani.”

“Is it Julia Gallo?” asked Fontaine.

“I’m not sure,” said Harvath, “but we’re not going to sit here and wait to find out. Let’s go.”