book burning.And let’s not forget: they hit the target. No, we’ll keep this to ourselves. It’s our party, we invented it, it’s our man, our materiel, our mission. No, this is for us. Tomorrow I want a patrol in force to head out on the road to Qalat and I want a lot of other smaller patrol activity in that sector. I want Humvees all over the place, lots of corpsmen and sniper teams. Lots of marine presence and I want the troops on the alert in case Ray needs help fast or needs a place to go to with a pack of hadjis on his ass.”
“Yes, sir,” said the exec. “I’ll draft the orders.”
The colonel turned to S-2.
“Will we be able to eyeball him from above at that time tomorrow, or is the satellite somewhere helpful, like Hawaii or Omaha?”
“We only get real-time satfeed from 1400 through about 1530 tomorrow, sir.”
“Ach,” said the colonel. “That is not pleasing. S-Two, try to think of something that might please me. Think real hard. I know you can do it.”
“Sir, I can request that the Agency task a recon Predator tomorrow and get us a real-time feed while this thing is going down.”
“And what are our chances that these wonderful folks will cooperate with us?”
“I would say somewhere between zero and negative two thousand.”
“That is not pleasing to me.”
“Sir, I will take a Humvee, with your permission, and personally make the request.”
“Tell them if they don’t, I’ll call in an artillery strike on their operations bunker.”
“Sir, I don’t think they’ve got a sense of humor. These people take themselves very seriously. But I do know a guy. In person, maybe I can get something set up. I know if we go routine channels throughradio request, some Army dental hygiene unit will be in an ambush somewhere up-country and they’ll get all the drone action.”
“Then you do that, S-Two. You do that and get me my picture show.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Good. Now everybody get some sleep. And pray for Ray if you’re religious. And if you’re not religious, pray for Ray. That’s an order.”
ROOF OF ABDUL THE BUTCHER’S
GUIZAR STREET
TANBOOR NEIGHBORHOOD
QALAT
ZABUL PROVINCE
SOUTHEASTERN AFGHANISTAN
0700 HOURS
Bogier felt a little less edgy. He’d fucked two houris in a house of ill repute in the district, and at least had his rod problems quieted for a bit. He’d taken two dexes and a Chinese red tiger and his mind was racy with energy. All his boys had gotten a little shut-eye, and the two Izzies seemed in good spirits, and not likely to cut his throat while he slept. Now he had to call in, see what was going to happen. Maybe they could all go home. That would be the best result.
He got out the Thuraya, activated it, pressed the button, and waited.
In time Mr. MacGyver picked up.
“Did you have a good time at the whorehouse?” he asked.
“We all needed some R and R, Mr. MacGyver. Those satellites don’t miss a trick, do they?”
“Not when you’re carrying that GPS with you. Funny, I didn’t think you were a doggie-style guy.”
“Wow, that’s some satellite.”
“Joke. Bogier, even the great MacGyver has a sense of humor. So now you’ve gone to ground less than half a mile from the compound.”
“That’s right, sir. And I’ve eyeballed the Many Pleasures Hotel. It’s the usual fucking joint. Not exactly a Holiday Inn. Ugh, negative stars in Frommer’s.”
“I don’t need to know the details. Here’s the play. Get one of your Izzies into the place tomorrow morning or afternoon. He’s got to get to the roof somehow, and plant that GPS. We need a satellite lock-on to watch and see what goes down.”
“Is that where the marine is shooting from?”
“Bogier, if I don’t tell you something, it’s because I don’t want you to know it. So no questions, that’s still the deal.”
“Got it. Sorry. But it’s the only site with enough elevation to get a shot into the compound.”
“You’re a genius, Bogier. No flies
“Yes, sir,” said the exec. “I’ll draft the orders.”
The colonel turned to S-2.
“Will we be able to eyeball him from above at that time tomorrow, or is the satellite somewhere helpful, like Hawaii or Omaha?”
“We only get real-time satfeed from 1400 through about 1530 tomorrow, sir.”
“Ach,” said the colonel. “That is not pleasing. S-Two, try to think of something that might please me. Think real hard. I know you can do it.”
“Sir, I can request that the Agency task a recon Predator tomorrow and get us a real-time feed while this thing is going down.”
“And what are our chances that these wonderful folks will cooperate with us?”
“I would say somewhere between zero and negative two thousand.”
“That is not pleasing to me.”
“Sir, I will take a Humvee, with your permission, and personally make the request.”
“Tell them if they don’t, I’ll call in an artillery strike on their operations bunker.”
“Sir, I don’t think they’ve got a sense of humor. These people take themselves very seriously. But I do know a guy. In person, maybe I can get something set up. I know if we go routine channels throughradio request, some Army dental hygiene unit will be in an ambush somewhere up-country and they’ll get all the drone action.”
“Then you do that, S-Two. You do that and get me my picture show.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Good. Now everybody get some sleep. And pray for Ray if you’re religious. And if you’re not religious, pray for Ray. That’s an order.”
ROOF OF ABDUL THE BUTCHER’S
GUIZAR STREET
TANBOOR NEIGHBORHOOD
QALAT
ZABUL PROVINCE
SOUTHEASTERN AFGHANISTAN
0700 HOURS
Bogier felt a little less edgy. He’d fucked two houris in a house of ill repute in the district, and at least had his rod problems quieted for a bit. He’d taken two dexes and a Chinese red tiger and his mind was racy with energy. All his boys had gotten a little shut-eye, and the two Izzies seemed in good spirits, and not likely to cut his throat while he slept. Now he had to call in, see what was going to happen. Maybe they could all go home. That would be the best result.
He got out the Thuraya, activated it, pressed the button, and waited.
In time Mr. MacGyver picked up.
“Did you have a good time at the whorehouse?” he asked.
“We all needed some R and R, Mr. MacGyver. Those satellites don’t miss a trick, do they?”
“Not when you’re carrying that GPS with you. Funny, I didn’t think you were a doggie-style guy.”
“Wow, that’s some satellite.”
“Joke. Bogier, even the great MacGyver has a sense of humor. So now you’ve gone to ground less than half a mile from the compound.”
“That’s right, sir. And I’ve eyeballed the Many Pleasures Hotel. It’s the usual fucking joint. Not exactly a Holiday Inn. Ugh, negative stars in Frommer’s.”
“I don’t need to know the details. Here’s the play. Get one of your Izzies into the place tomorrow morning or afternoon. He’s got to get to the roof somehow, and plant that GPS. We need a satellite lock-on to watch and see what goes down.”
“Is that where the marine is shooting from?”
“Bogier, if I don’t tell you something, it’s because I don’t want you to know it. So no questions, that’s still the deal.”
“Got it. Sorry. But it’s the only site with enough elevation to get a shot into the compound.”
“You’re a genius, Bogier. No flies
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