KBL by John Weisman Read Free Book Online Page A

China. Since then, he’d done two six-month tours in Afghanistan and a four-month temporary duty assignment (TDY) at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad. For the past ten months, he’d been back home in Ashburn, Virginia, with his wife, Patty, working as an instructor at the West Virginia facility the Agency used to train its personnel in evasive and defensive driving maneuvers. It was perfect: a reverse commute every morning out to Summit Point, and home by five.
    But in mid-October, Rich Erwin, SAD’s branch chief for special operations, had called him in and asked him to volunteer for a second TDY to Islamabad. The Agency needed an operator who knew the lay of the land to get out in the boonies and spot targets for its armed Predator drones. Ty had the experience in-country, as well as the tradecraft capabilities and the technical knowhow. So, would he go?
    It was the absolute worst of times, and Ty let Erwin know why. Patty was five months pregnant. She’d had a miscarriage the previous year, and her doctor had ordered her to take things easy this time. This would be their first child. The Agency had promised that he wouldn’t have to travel until mid-2011.
    He looked across the desk, furious that the branch chief had even brought the subject up.
    Rich Erwin shrugged sympathetically. “Hey, I know how tough this is for you,” he said. “Problem is, we’ve just created a joint special program element with the Asymmetric Warfare Group’s D Squadron.”
    That was news to Ty. For years the military’s special operations units and the Agency had had a prickly relationship. It was a leadership culture thing: sure, they’d been forced by circumstance and mission requirements to work together, but it was for the most part oil-and-water. The operators were fine; many had come from Tier One units or Marine recon. But at the top, there’d been no homogeneity, no symbiosis, very little of the finish-each-other’s-sentences kind of unit integrity practiced by Tier One operators.
    But now the D/CIA had formed a tight working relationship with Wes Bolin over at JSOC. They did better than just get along—they actually enjoyed one another’s company. Big things were in the works. This TDY was, for lack of a better term, the test program to see if the top-down relationship would transfer to bottom-up.
    “Which is why we need you, Ty. You’re basically the only guy here who both knows Pakistan and the folks at Meade well enough to integrate on short notice.”
    Ty had to admit Rich had a point. SAD had its share of SEALs and Marines. But D Squadron, which was one of the two classified mission components of the Fort Meade–based AWG, was staffed in large part by former Delta operators and Airborne Rangers from the 75th Ranger Regiment. Ty had put in three years at the 1-75 before he’d been selected for Delta. Plus, he’d worked closely with AWG’s C Squadron in Helmand Province in Afghanistan in 2008 and 2009. He’d helped them refine an effective method for identifying and targeting high-value targets, Taliban bomb makers, and fabricators of the al-Qaeda network’s improvised explosive devices (IEDs).
    The tactics had originally been developed in Iraq back in 2005 and 2006 by the counter-IED program named Constant Hawk. But they were significantly improved and enhanced in Helmand under the Asymmetric Warfare Group’s Whiskey Solo program.
    And now CIA wanted to adapt Whiskey Solo to the unique mission requirements of AFPAK, the Afghan-Pakistan theater. The new compartment would be called Whiskey Trio. The main challenge? Whiskey Trio had to operate completely under the radar, because the ultranationalistic Pakis went batshit every time some Jihadi was blown into the well-known smithereens by a Hellfire.
    Rich said, “It’s only four weeks.”
    “A critical four weeks, so far as Patty’s concerned.”
    “We’ll check up on her.” Rich read the skeptical look on Ty’s face. “I’m serious, dude. Daily, if you