Black Hawk Day Rewind: An action packed spy thriller (Mark Savannah Espionage Series Book 1) by Dominick Fencer, Baibin Nighthawk Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dominick Fencer, Baibin Nighthawk
a color picture.
“Lisunov-Li-2, Kamaal Sadeh will be in the lobby of your hotel at 7:30 am, BAT FK23 Bantam will already be in the jeep. Good day, gentlemen!”
The Colonel and his deputy, Randles, turned on their heels and left the building immediately without another word.
Mark had to spend the afternoon hanging around the center of Herat. He was bored and wandered aimlessly, but in spite of everything, he kept checking that no one was following him.
17
Kamaal Sadeh was reading the newspaper in the lobby of the hotel at 7:30 in the morning.
He was wearing a typical Afghan kurta over a pair of khaki pants, a pair of combat boots and a beige pakol on his head.
He did not know Mark’s face, but he knew that Mark knew his, so now and then he looked around to see if he could spot his partner in adventure.
“Good morning, Kamaal!”
Mark greeted him as he approached with a cup of hot coffee in his hand, the coffee that Kamaal expected to see as a password and also counted on to fully wake up.
After he drank the coffee, they went to the parking lot of the hotel together. BAT FK23 Bantam was sitting in the car with a sleepy face worthy of an adolescent who had stayed awake on the beach to watch the sunrise.
“Hey, Lisunov Li-2,” said the American agent with a scowl. “Is your per diem so small that you couldn’t even buy a cup of coffee for me? Do you think it's fair that only Kamaal gets to enjoy this privilege that we can forget about completely for the next few days?”
“Listen Bat, next time you can get that tired old ass of yours up and come and get your own. You're not exactly a beautiful, ready and willing girl, are you? And anyway, Arabs are not my type,” Mark replied in the same angry tone. “You could have at least thrown out the papers in the car. What a pigsty! If the bullets or the mines don’t kill us, the pathogens that live here will do it!”
“Shut up and get in!” Kamaal said laughingly in Arabic, the language that they would speak till the end of their mission.
The off-road was not an ordinary vehicle: even if it appeared dirty and non-descript, it was fully armored and equipped with extremely sophisticated detection and data transmission equipment.
It also had a hidden compartment that contained diverse weapons to meet all their requirements, a technological arsenal that would make the team completely independent for several days with no need for supplies.
Kamaal was driving and Mark, sitting next to him, was looking out at the landscape. The Helmand region is crossed by the river of the same name, and the land was harsh and barren but interspersed with lush green fields, that for the most part cultivated opium poppies, a crop which was easier to grow than traditional food, even in poorly irrigated fields.
There were in fact still very few wheat fields despite the fight against drug trafficking, and the price of wheat had increased during the last two years due to the food crisis in developing countries.
According to the satellite survey, there were three plantations they needed to inspect, all of them near Lashkar Gah on the road to Kandahar.
They were to sleep in the house of Kamaal’s brother, who was also a CIA operative, but who also grew opium, and associated with the Taliban who protected him.
Mark did not like the situation at all. They could both be double agents, and they could be leading him into a situation that might involve the two principal governments in a domino effect, upsetting the precarious political-military balance of the Iran-Pakistan-Afghanistan region. All he could do was stay vigilant, intercept and interpret any alarm signals, and carry out his task.
They parked the jeep about half a mile from the edge of the first plantation.
There were people working in the field harvesting the latex and the capsules of the poppies, and storing the crop inside a kind of low shed the color of the surrounding earth.
BAT FK2 Bantam, their
“Lisunov-Li-2, Kamaal Sadeh will be in the lobby of your hotel at 7:30 am, BAT FK23 Bantam will already be in the jeep. Good day, gentlemen!”
The Colonel and his deputy, Randles, turned on their heels and left the building immediately without another word.
Mark had to spend the afternoon hanging around the center of Herat. He was bored and wandered aimlessly, but in spite of everything, he kept checking that no one was following him.
17
Kamaal Sadeh was reading the newspaper in the lobby of the hotel at 7:30 in the morning.
He was wearing a typical Afghan kurta over a pair of khaki pants, a pair of combat boots and a beige pakol on his head.
He did not know Mark’s face, but he knew that Mark knew his, so now and then he looked around to see if he could spot his partner in adventure.
“Good morning, Kamaal!”
Mark greeted him as he approached with a cup of hot coffee in his hand, the coffee that Kamaal expected to see as a password and also counted on to fully wake up.
After he drank the coffee, they went to the parking lot of the hotel together. BAT FK23 Bantam was sitting in the car with a sleepy face worthy of an adolescent who had stayed awake on the beach to watch the sunrise.
“Hey, Lisunov Li-2,” said the American agent with a scowl. “Is your per diem so small that you couldn’t even buy a cup of coffee for me? Do you think it's fair that only Kamaal gets to enjoy this privilege that we can forget about completely for the next few days?”
“Listen Bat, next time you can get that tired old ass of yours up and come and get your own. You're not exactly a beautiful, ready and willing girl, are you? And anyway, Arabs are not my type,” Mark replied in the same angry tone. “You could have at least thrown out the papers in the car. What a pigsty! If the bullets or the mines don’t kill us, the pathogens that live here will do it!”
“Shut up and get in!” Kamaal said laughingly in Arabic, the language that they would speak till the end of their mission.
The off-road was not an ordinary vehicle: even if it appeared dirty and non-descript, it was fully armored and equipped with extremely sophisticated detection and data transmission equipment.
It also had a hidden compartment that contained diverse weapons to meet all their requirements, a technological arsenal that would make the team completely independent for several days with no need for supplies.
Kamaal was driving and Mark, sitting next to him, was looking out at the landscape. The Helmand region is crossed by the river of the same name, and the land was harsh and barren but interspersed with lush green fields, that for the most part cultivated opium poppies, a crop which was easier to grow than traditional food, even in poorly irrigated fields.
There were in fact still very few wheat fields despite the fight against drug trafficking, and the price of wheat had increased during the last two years due to the food crisis in developing countries.
According to the satellite survey, there were three plantations they needed to inspect, all of them near Lashkar Gah on the road to Kandahar.
They were to sleep in the house of Kamaal’s brother, who was also a CIA operative, but who also grew opium, and associated with the Taliban who protected him.
Mark did not like the situation at all. They could both be double agents, and they could be leading him into a situation that might involve the two principal governments in a domino effect, upsetting the precarious political-military balance of the Iran-Pakistan-Afghanistan region. All he could do was stay vigilant, intercept and interpret any alarm signals, and carry out his task.
They parked the jeep about half a mile from the edge of the first plantation.
There were people working in the field harvesting the latex and the capsules of the poppies, and storing the crop inside a kind of low shed the color of the surrounding earth.
BAT FK2 Bantam, their
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