Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office by Khalid Muhammad Read Free Book Online

stares. He gestured to Kamal to join them.
    “Welcome to the Jungle!” the Major grabbed Kamal ’s hand and pulled him forward to introduce him to his group. “Gentlemen, this is Captain Kamal Khan, a former student of mine.”
    “Sir.” Kamal nodded formally to the group, most of whom were a blur of names and uniforms. This is a bloody convention on good posture , he thought as he took in the ramrod straight stance of everyone around him. He turned back to the Major. “Will you be our counter-terrorism instructor here as well?”
    “I ’ll join you for the advanced courses, but SSG soldiers are exempt from basic training,” the Major said with a wicked smile. “I get the boys first.” He cocked his head towards a small group huddled together in a corner of the giant room. “My job is to turn them into men.”
    Kamal hadn ’t noticed the small group – they seemed to be shrinking into their skins, intimidated and quiet. “The boys?”
    “Civilians.” Coming from the Major, it sounded like a dirty word.
    Kamal’s brows went up in surprise. “Civilians? I thought…”
    “We have a civilian division, Kamal. I thought you knew that.” The Major was amused. “They ’re political appointees, or federal service commission candidates.”
    “Basic training with these guys is a load of fun.” One of the Major ’s friends, a slim-built man sporting a fantastic handlebar mustache, was blatantly staring at the ‘boys’. “They’re untested, undisciplined and unprepared, lacking the essential skills that every soldier here has.”
    “ And unfit.” The group’s contempt for the civilian population in the room was obvious.
    “Our only saving grace is that they ’ll never get to field or covert service.”
    Kamal felt bad for the boys, but he was surprised that the ISI accepted political appointees. “Where are they normally posted?”
    “Analysis. They’re given access to the most inconsequential data to limit the opportunities to share intelligence for financial gain.”
    “There are two things to remember about civilians in the ISI.” Ziad, the handlebar mustache guy, took the opportunity to teach the newbie a few things. “First, political appointees are likely to be snitches for the party in power. They work for them, for individuals, not the country. They ’re also far more likely to be turned or exposed if allowed into the field. We’ve seen this happen with the CIA, FSB and MI6 for years now.”
    “Our legacy, though, is in this room.” The Major nodded to the plaques on the wall celebrating successful ISI operations, each with a date and detail but no operative names. On the wall to his right were photographs of past Directors General of the ISI since its inception in 1948 by General Robert Cawthome, an Australian born British Army Major General who later joined the Pakistan Army. The whole room reflected the glorious history of the intelligence services. “We pander to civilian sensibilities by allowing them to feel like a part of us. It hasn ’t slowed us down yet.”
    “Attention!” The soldiers outside the door had entered, and the room snapped to attention at the command. Almost all of them, that is; the civilians, unused to reacting to orders, stood shifting their weight from side to side, as if standing in a school assembly. One of the soldiers noticed the disrespect of the order and surged towards the two who were most unsteady. Kamal watched, remembering his first days in basic training. Oh shit , he thought. Those guys are about to get their first drill.
    “Stand up straight! Do you think that this is your mother ’s living room?” spat the soldier in his face. “You know you don’t belong here! Tell us whose influence you used to get into this Academy. Stand fucking still, maggot! ” The poor man leaned back, desperately trying to avoid the soldier’s spittle as he got yelled at. But he stood up straight, looking at the uniformed soldiers’ stances and mimicking