JAFABAR. SULAIMAN MOUNTAINS. SOUTHERN AFGHANISTAN.
Osama bin Laden exited the tunnel that led to the outskirts of the village of Jafabar, back on the southern face of the mountain. To the north, he could hear the massive battle of his own creation, near the distant foot of the mountains leading to the Panjshir Valley. Over nine hundred of his battle-hardened warriors drew the attention of NATO forces, keeping the enemy looking in the wrong direction.
But not for long, he thought, realizing that by now the group that had killed Akhtar—and nearly killed him—would have realized the ruse.
Escaping the strafing had been easy in their tunnel systems, which nearly traversed the mountain. They were used primarily to allow contingents of men to recover from their holy jihad, to shift forces from one theater to another, and of course, to survive the onslaught of bombs on the surface.
The enemy had sophisticated and highly terrifying weapons.
His men had deep caves and tunnels, which had been good enough to defeat all previous invaders.
And now the mighty United States.
This remote headquarters in the Taliban-controlled town in the middle of Taliban-controlled territory was away from NATO’s prying eyes in the sky.
Greetings gave way to orders. Messages were dispatched via encrypted radio and relayed as far south as Lashkar Gah to trigger desired activities on the planned escape route, along the bottom of the gorge and over the desert leading to the Indian Ocean.
His strategy during this war had never been to defeat American technology but rather to deceive it—to deceive it by capitalizing on the enemy’s arrogant dependence on it.
Making them predictable, he thought, as he accepted a cup of hot tea from the young daughter of one of his men, her head covered in a traditional hijab, her face nearly shielded by a niqab. The dark veil allowed a view of just an inch of light-olive skin and a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes, which were averted from his stare.
“Thank you, child,” he said, sipping his tea while standing next to a crate that his men had dragged to the edge of a clearing overlooking Quai Kotal, which eventually led to the desert.
Distant explosions speckled the northern range like lightning flashes, brief moments of twilight seen through jagged ridges, followed by rumbling thunder as his forces continued distracting the enemy, setting the stage for his ultimate act of destruction.
Which will be felt around the world.