pulled out another report. “Two months ago, in Kandahar”—the city in southern Afghanistan where the Taliban had been headquartered—“a Colonel Hamar in the Afghan army tells us that the Taliban are getting ‘professional training’—his words—from ‘foreign fighters.’”
“The only foreign fighters in Afghanistan are bin Laden’s boys. They’re hardly professionals. Unless you think blowing yourself to bits is a hallmark of professionalism.”
“Let me finish, Ellis. By the way, the good lieutenant colonel died shortly after passing this rumor along.”
“I’m going to guess it wasn’t natural causes.”
“Throat cut in half.”
“In Kandahar that’s practically natural.”
Exley passed Shafer a photograph of a blood-drenched corpse rolled up in a rug. “His body was left in front of the local police HQ.”
“I guess that’s what’s known as sending a message.”
“Anyway. So the Special Forces say the Talibs are fighting better. Kandahar reports foreign fighters. Then this from the Tenth Mountain Division.” She handed him another file.
“More foreign fighters?”
“In eastern Afghanistan near the Pak border.”
“Nowhere near Kandahar,” Shafer said.
“I looked for more reports from the Tenth Mountain, but there weren’t any. They just rotated in. So I checked back to the old reports from the 101st.” The 101st Airborne Division.
“More foreigners.”
“Gold star, Ellis. Two reports. But no one linked them to the new ones. You know once a division leaves, its intel goes with it. These were also in eastern Afghanistan.”
“Okay. I’ll play.” Shafer began to read again, not skimming this time. Exley waited. One of Shafer’s strengths was his willingness to reconsider his preconceptions when he got new evidence. She wished more people at the agency—and across the river in the White House—shared that trait.
Finally Shafer looked up. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? The Taliban is getting outside help? Some foreign power is sending its own soldiers to give the Talibs tactical support?”
“I seem to remember we did something similar.” During the 1980s, America had aided Afghan guerrillas against the Soviet Army. Some of those same guerrillas had now turned against the United States.
“Supporting the Talibs would be an act of war against the United States. All of NATO too.”
“Proxy war.”
“Let’s say you’re right. Who’s doing it? The Russians would never help the Talibs. No matter how badly they wanted to hurt us. They haven’t forgotten they lost a hundred thousand soldiers fighting in Afghanistan.”
“Someone else, then.”
“Who? Nobody in NATO. They’re on our side. Iran and Pakistan would hardly count as foreign. North Korea? China? Anyone say anything about Asians?”
“No. The fighters are specifically identified as white. Mercenaries maybe?”
“Maybe. But it’s a seller’s market these days for mercenaries.”
Shafer was right, Exley knew. Former Special Forces soldiers could make $5,000 a week providing security in Iraq. South African and Russian soldiers made less, but even so they could take home $10,000 a month. They would want even more money to help the Taliban against the United States. Not for moral reasons either. Simply because of the risk.
“The Talibs couldn’t afford these guys,” Shafer said. “Who would pay them?”
“I think it’s time to find out.” She handed him the last report in her file. “Also from the Tenth Mountain Division. Two days ago. A fairly big camp in eastern Afghanistan, at least fifty Talibs. And several white fighters.”
“And they’re going after it?”
“Not at the moment. They have other priorities. And it’s in a very difficult location. Way up in the mountains. I think we should get a satellite up to take a look at it.”
“Sounds reasonable. And then?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what we see. Maybe we can convince the SF to go after
“The only foreign fighters in Afghanistan are bin Laden’s boys. They’re hardly professionals. Unless you think blowing yourself to bits is a hallmark of professionalism.”
“Let me finish, Ellis. By the way, the good lieutenant colonel died shortly after passing this rumor along.”
“I’m going to guess it wasn’t natural causes.”
“Throat cut in half.”
“In Kandahar that’s practically natural.”
Exley passed Shafer a photograph of a blood-drenched corpse rolled up in a rug. “His body was left in front of the local police HQ.”
“I guess that’s what’s known as sending a message.”
“Anyway. So the Special Forces say the Talibs are fighting better. Kandahar reports foreign fighters. Then this from the Tenth Mountain Division.” She handed him another file.
“More foreign fighters?”
“In eastern Afghanistan near the Pak border.”
“Nowhere near Kandahar,” Shafer said.
“I looked for more reports from the Tenth Mountain, but there weren’t any. They just rotated in. So I checked back to the old reports from the 101st.” The 101st Airborne Division.
“More foreigners.”
“Gold star, Ellis. Two reports. But no one linked them to the new ones. You know once a division leaves, its intel goes with it. These were also in eastern Afghanistan.”
“Okay. I’ll play.” Shafer began to read again, not skimming this time. Exley waited. One of Shafer’s strengths was his willingness to reconsider his preconceptions when he got new evidence. She wished more people at the agency—and across the river in the White House—shared that trait.
Finally Shafer looked up. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? The Taliban is getting outside help? Some foreign power is sending its own soldiers to give the Talibs tactical support?”
“I seem to remember we did something similar.” During the 1980s, America had aided Afghan guerrillas against the Soviet Army. Some of those same guerrillas had now turned against the United States.
“Supporting the Talibs would be an act of war against the United States. All of NATO too.”
“Proxy war.”
“Let’s say you’re right. Who’s doing it? The Russians would never help the Talibs. No matter how badly they wanted to hurt us. They haven’t forgotten they lost a hundred thousand soldiers fighting in Afghanistan.”
“Someone else, then.”
“Who? Nobody in NATO. They’re on our side. Iran and Pakistan would hardly count as foreign. North Korea? China? Anyone say anything about Asians?”
“No. The fighters are specifically identified as white. Mercenaries maybe?”
“Maybe. But it’s a seller’s market these days for mercenaries.”
Shafer was right, Exley knew. Former Special Forces soldiers could make $5,000 a week providing security in Iraq. South African and Russian soldiers made less, but even so they could take home $10,000 a month. They would want even more money to help the Taliban against the United States. Not for moral reasons either. Simply because of the risk.
“The Talibs couldn’t afford these guys,” Shafer said. “Who would pay them?”
“I think it’s time to find out.” She handed him the last report in her file. “Also from the Tenth Mountain Division. Two days ago. A fairly big camp in eastern Afghanistan, at least fifty Talibs. And several white fighters.”
“And they’re going after it?”
“Not at the moment. They have other priorities. And it’s in a very difficult location. Way up in the mountains. I think we should get a satellite up to take a look at it.”
“Sounds reasonable. And then?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what we see. Maybe we can convince the SF to go after
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