Original Historical Fiction - Common Interests: A 9/11 Novel - Chapter 1

steeminganarchy (69)in #fiction • 7 years ago (edited)

A historical fiction narrative surrounding the crimes of 9/11. Published exclusively on Steemit at the moment! A paperback will be available in May.

Image courtesy of kickassfacts.com

This is a fictional narrative wrapped around the real crimes of the September 11, 2001 attacks and the 2008 financial crisis. A smattering of other real events, institutions, entities, and people have also been included.

Part 1

Chapter 1

Pakistan border with Afghanistan near Khyber Pass

June, 1979

“Your cause is right and God is on your side!” said the stern-faced man with Eastern European roots as he pointed an authoritative finger towards the heavens. A split-second pause and the translator was finished yak-yak-yaking. Then came the applause. Under a crystal-clear blue sky, men in beards and turbans clapped and grinned. They didn’t know this stranger from a strange land. All they knew was that life under Soviet occupation was hell on Earth. They were desperate. They were pawns in the dirty, bloody game of geostrategic chess.

The pea-green suits of the Pakistani military brass played their part. They shook hands and smiled for the cameras. Brzezinski kept his eyes covered with shades and, surrounded by his underling entourage, made his way back to the chopper. PR time was over. It was time to get down to business. The world would never be the same.

ONE HOUR LATER

Pakistani Intelligence Office

Peshawar, Pakistan

Brzezinski took note of the shoddy door as he entered the meeting. He thought to himself, “These guys want nukes, and they can’t even get a door on straight.” A small cadre stood to greet the National Security Advisor of the Carter Administration. There were two Americans and two Pakistanis.

“That was a rousing speech to rile up the troops,” the middle aged American quipped as he grinned at the stern Brzezinski. “I hate PR stunts,” came the curt reply. “But it was necessary.”

The men took their seats. General Rahman, dressed in stiff and starchy military regalia, leaned forward on the long oak table and said, “On behalf of President Zia, we would like to formally state our support in the war against Communism. We are ready to assist in any way that we can.”

Zbigniew Brzezinski kept his icy eyes zeroed in on General Rahman. He had all his moves calculated in advance. He was in control, and he knew it. “General Rahman, as you might know, there has been some hesitancy on the part of the Carter Administration to do what is necessary in the fight against Communism in Afghanistan. However, we are taking measures to make sure that proper funding, equipping, and training of the Mujahideen freedom fighters takes place one way or another. You’ve already been acquainted here with Mr. Cogan from the CIA Near East division as well as our young special forces soldier here, Mr. Vickers.”

Rahman nodded and gestured towards the young, long bearded, crazed-eyed warlord next to him and said, “And one of the freedom fighters you speak of, Mr. Hekmatyar, I can assure you looks forward to working closely with our friends at the CIA.” Vickers grinned brashly and leaned back. Cogan and Zbig locked eyes. The steely Zbig couldn’t help but smirk a tad as he responded, “You think I don’t know who he is?”

This brought open laughter from the American contingency. Like they were sitting in the presence of one of the most ruthless Afghan warlords and didn’t know it. Cogan slicked his hair back and said, “He’s here because we know exactly who he is. He’s someone who can get the job done. General Rahman, I will be your liaison for coordinating operations. Young Mr. Vickers here will be our lead trainer here in Pakistan along with your ISI core.”

Vickers smiled sharply at Hekmatyar and beamed at him with beady eyes. Hekmatyar’s stone face didn’t flinch. The bullish Afghan was bold, ruthless, cunning, and well-connected. He wasn’t there for freedom fighting. He was there for his own self interest, just like everyone else in the room. War was the best racket in town. The only difference was, he didn’t bullshit like these other tools. Vickers knew this. Vickers was young, ambitious, cunning, intelligent, and loved the thrill of blowing shit up. Vickers thought Hekmatyar was amusing and looked forward to raising hell with this brown butcher. Vickers knew he was about to get carte blanche and was relishing the moment.

General Rahman raised his pointy chin, “There has been some concern regarding financing. If Carter doesn’t make any official aid available, how can we be assured that enough assistance will be given to our efforts here in Pakistan?”

Cogan’s eyes took careful examination of the brutal Hekmatyar as he answered, “Carter will do what is necessary. In the meantime, our Saudi allies have assured us of generous financial support.”

Rahman was pleased by this. Rahman had dollar signs flashing in his eyes. Did he dare push further? “Of course, the only other issue that I suppose needs attention, is the facilitation of Pakistan’s nuclear development.”

Zbig stared him down. Silence cut the room. The Afghan warlord embraced the tension. Vickers relished the poker game between these self-righteous bullshitters. “I’m sure if things proceed well in our joint efforts against Communism, then President Carter will make generous concessions,” Zbig finished gruffly.

Stay tuned for more......

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