Page 9 of Stand Fast

Prentiss launched it and flew it up the steep hillside, turning it to the left to give them a bird’s eye view of the target village. He and Hamilton watched the screen while Prentiss maneuvered their tiny spy from his remote control with the dexterity of a lifelong gamer.

“Two sentries posted, one appears asleep,” Hamilton’s low voice said through Zaid’s headset. The NIU had its own translator with them so Zaid didn’t have to do the honors.

Not surprising one sentry was asleep, given the time of night and weather conditions. Only freaking lunatics would dare come to this remote place right now.

“Suspected cache location appears unguarded.”

Bonus. Now if they could just get up there and take the villagers by surprise, they might not only find what they were looking for, but make it out unscathed as well. And if they were really lucky, they might even get a lock on The Jackal’s location.

“It’s a go,” Hamilton said. “Let’s move.”

Good, because he hated waiting around out here in the open, exposed to both the elements and potential enemy eyes, and a brisk hike would at least keep their blood moving. It was freaking freezing even with all the layers and specialized material they wore.

Together the combined units made the two-mile hike up the steep switchbacks carved into the hillside, and paused just out of sight of the alert sentry’s position. Hamilton waved Zaid over. He jogged to him, leaned in close so he could hear his team leader over the swirling wind.

“NIU will go in first. I want you with them, so you can translate what’s going on for the rest of us.”

“Roger.” He motioned for the head of the NIU to join them and relayed the information, then waited for the Afghan force to move in. When their commander gave the order, Zaid stayed near the front of the column, weapon up and ready, scanning for threats.

“This is the police,” one of the NIU members said in Pashto into a bullhorn as they reached the edge of the village.

The wide-eyed sentry stared at them in astonishment, and slowly raised his hands. His sleeping counterpart had dashed to his feet and grabbed for his rifle amidst the layers of robes he had wrapped around him, but froze when he saw how badly he was outnumbered.

“If you are armed, put down your weapons,” the NIU member continued. “We are searching the village.”

The second sentry dropped his AK like it was red-hot and stuck his hands in the air. While two members of the NIU engaged him to check for more weapons, Zaid stayed with the main force as they moved into the village, which was made up of a dozen or so dun-colored mud brick buildings.

Shouts of alarm and cries erupted from inside the dwellings. Zaid kept his weapon up, his finger on the trigger guard. They were here to seize drugs, weapons, cash, and hopefully net one very annoyed Jackal. The rules of engagement stated that they could only fire in self-defense or to protect the NIU members.

Through the confusion heightened by the darkness and swirling snow, men began to emerge from the buildings. Zaid watched their hands, assessing each man individually before moving to the next.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” yelled one old man, his white beard and tunic blowing in the wind.

“We are conducting a search,” the NIU spokesman answered.

“A search for what?” he demanded amidst a rumble of dissent from the other men now gathered in their doorways. “We are a peaceful village. No Taliban here.”

The NIU member ignored him. “Stand back while we search each house.”

Zaid passed on the info to Hamilton and the others via his headset. They all knew a little Pashto and Dari, but none were fluent except Zaid, who spoke both like a native thanks to his parents.

The teams moved quickly to check and secure each building before beginning the search while Hamilton and the NIU leader tried to get intel about The Jackal. Prentiss and Colebrook went with Zaid into one dwelling and together they swept the place in a few minutes. Several women were in the back room, comforting frightened children, and frantically covered their heads and faces with their shawls.

“Be at ease, sisters,” Zaid told them. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”

But they were here to search every nook and cranny and get whatever intel they could.

He approached one woman, who was sitting on the floor with a crying infant in her lap, and hunkered down in front of her. “The Jackal. Have you heard that name before?”

She shrank away from him, hugging her child tighter to her.

“He’s a dangerous man. There is a large reward for information leading to his capture. Have you heard anything about him?”

She shook her head, her body language screaming her fear and uncertainty.

Zaid moved to the next. “What about you? Have you heard something about The Jackal? Has he been here?”

“No,” the woman said, completely hidden from view by her shawl. “Now leave us in peace.”

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