The Apostle

CHAPTER 37

The drive from Jalalabad to Khogyani normally took an hour. Gallagher made it in twenty minutes.

They encountered their first roadblock a mile out along the single-lane road leading through the village. Two eight-wheeled LAV III armored perso

“Coming up on the roadblock,” said Gallagher.

Two more LAVs were blocking the road on the other side of the village.

“Anybody see any activity on the ground?” asked Harvath.

Baba G shook his head. “Looks like all they’ve done so far is set up a cordon.”

“Which means they’re either waiting for another element to show, or they’re gearing up to go in themselves. We run this exactly the way we pla

“Actually,” said Fontaine as they closed on the roadblock and he reached in his pocket for his military ID, “we might have just caught a break.”

“What kind of break?” asked Harvath.

“We’ll see in a moment,” he replied.

Fontaine rolled his window down and told Gallagher to pull all the way up. They were waved to a stop by a Canadian soldier carrying a C-7 assault rifle.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said the soldier as he studied Fontaine’s Canadian military ID card.

“Corporal,” said Fontaine as he retrieved his ID and slid it back into his pocket, “who are you and what the hell are you doing here?”

“Mechanized Quick Reaction Force, B Company, First Battalion,” the man responded. “We were sent in to hold this village.”

“Hold it for whom?”

“The Americans. They’re sending a unit to go house-to-house.”

“Do you know what they’re looking for?” asked Fontaine.

“No, sir.”

“What’s their ETA?”

“I don’t know, sir,” said the corporal.

“Who’s in charge here?” demanded Fontaine.

“Captain West, sir.”

“Captain Chris West?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fontaine opened his door and stepped out. “Get him on the radio for me right now,” he said as he began walking toward one of the LAVs.

“Get the captain on the line,” the corporal ordered one of the soldiers standing near the LAV.

“Who’s raising Captain West for me?” asked Fontaine as the hatch was raised on the armored vehicle and he ducked inside.

“Right here,” said a soldier, who offered up a handset.

Fontaine took the handset and spoke into it. “Chris? This is Dan Fontaine. You and your men have just walked into the middle of our operation. We need to talk right now.”

Fontaine listened for a moment and then gave the handset back to the soldier. He waited for the soldier to finish speaking with his superior and then he stepped out of the LAV. As he did, the soldier stuck his head out of the back and informed his sergeant that Fontaine and the men in the Land Cruiser had been granted permission to pass.

“So far so good,” said Fontaine as he hopped back in the truck and the Canadian soldiers directed them around their roadblock.

“Where to?” asked Gallagher as he steered around the LAVs and got back on the road.

“We’re going to meet up with their captain at the roadblock on the other side of the village.”

“What do you think the Americans want with this place?”

“Drugs, weapons, Taliban or al-Qaeda fighters,” replied Fontaine. “You name it.”

“Julia Gallo?” Harvath asked.

“That’d be one hell of a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in them,” continued Harvath from the backseat, more convinced than ever that Fontaine was CSIS. “By the way, you still carry an active military ID?”

“Expired,” replied Fontaine. “Nobody ever checks the date. How about you? I’ll bet you have some interesting items in your wallet.”

Harvath doubted the Canadian’s ID was expired. He also knew that while he had never told Fontaine what exactly he did for a living, it was quietly understood that he worked for the U.S. government. Based on Harvath’s special operations experience, it wasn’t a huge leap to assume he did something other than pushing paper. The suggestion of what might be in his wallet was a way of intimating that Fontaine had a good idea who Harvath really was too.

It was also probably a reminder that the pot shouldn’t call the kettle black.

“You know this guy West well?” asked Harvath, changing the subject yet again.

“He and I served in the Pats together,” replied Fontaine.

Harvath was familiar with Canada’s highly decorated regiment, Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry. “Do you think he’ll help us out?”

“We always say ‘Once a Patricia, always a Patricia.’”

“Well, no matter what happens and no matter what reason the Americans have for wanting to get in there and do a house-to-house,” stated Harvath, “we are going into that village. If Julia Gallo is in there, the longer we wait, the greater the odds are that they’ll figure out a way to slip that cordon and smuggle her out. And for all we know, they might have fled with her the minute they spotted these soldiers coming. I don’t want to wait around to find out.”

“Agreed,” said Gallagher.

“You got us over one hurdle,” Harvath said to Fontaine. “Now how do we get over the second and into the village?”

Staring at the armored vehicles up ahead, he replied, “By appealing to West’s i

Harvath looked at him. “I think I like my plan better.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Fontaine. “It’s still your plan.”

“This is it,” said Gallagher as they slowed to a stop before the two LAVs that formed the roadblock on the other side of the village. “You want us to wait in here?”

“You can come, but try to let me do the talking. Okay?”

“We’ll try,” said Harvath, opening his door.

The three men exited the Land Cruiser and were greeted by Captain West, a career military man in his late forties with dark hair and pale eyes.

“What’s this about us walking into the middle of your operation?” asked West as he shook hands with Fontaine.

The former JTF2 man didn’t bother introducing Harvath or Gallagher. Even among their allies, spooks often preferred to keep their identities private. “We’ve had this village under surveillance for two days.”

“Why?” asked West.

Fontaine dropped his voice and moved the captain off to the side, out of earshot of his men. Harvath and Gallagher followed.

“We believe that the village elders have been harboring an al-Qaeda asset. We’ve got one of our men inside who can ID him. We were about ready to pull the trigger when you guys showed up. Speaking of which, what are you and your men doing here?”

“NATO command got some sort of tip from one of its Taliban informants. They passed it on to the Americans, who, knowing we were in the area, asked us to come in and establish this cordon.”

“Did they get anything in the air for you?” asked Harvath. “A Predator? Anything?”

West shook his head. “They’ve been tied up. They couldn’t get any assets on target before we arrived.”

“So we don’t know if anyone slipped out as your cordon was being established.”

“No, we don’t,” said West as he turned back to Fontaine and asked, “Is this al-Qaeda asset you’re looking for the same reason the Americans are on their way?”

“No,” replied Fontaine. “It isn’t.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“I am.”

“Well,” replied West, “my gut says I should put the brakes on everything until the Americans get here.”

“Chris, we’ve been chasing the al-Qaeda operative in that village for almost a year. And now that we have him cornered, he’s sitting in there wondering who gave him up. Pretty soon, if he hasn’t already, he’s going to zero in on my operative, a Canadian, I might add, who’ll be as good as dead when that happens. I need to shut this thing down now.”