Three hours later, Peter Larsen stared at the aerial photos that had just been pinned up next to a large map in the briefing room. They were from a small village and its surrounding fields in the Helmand province. He had always found it rather amusing that the military camp of the ISAF HQ in Kabul had been given a name that had connotations of a place gathering dust. Something inactive, merely a storage facility. Especially since the mandate of ISAF was to actively facilitate the rebuilding of the country into a democratic state, and thus enhance security in Afghanistan. Whoever had come up with the name had unwittingly created a self-fulfilling prophecy. The ISAF general staff feared for their security and rarely ventured outside the camp. Self-imposed imprisonment, he thought to himself as he nodded to the German Lieutenant Colonel about to lead today’s briefing on opium production, local warlords and links to organised crime syndicates in Europe and Russia.
‘Apart from the traditional routes through more inhospitable parts of Afghanistan, the scale of the production has meant that significant transportation arteries are now being used, including 85Route Violet,’ the Lieutenant Colonel said as he pointed to the main highway through Kabul to Pakistan on the map behind him.
Peter Larsen took notes, as usual, while the Lieutenant Colonel droned on – his words flowing through Peter’s mind without sticking. Until the final words:
‘If there are no further questions, this concludes my briefing. Our Intel Section has provided a summary of our assessment, which was the basis for my briefing. The handouts are by the door.’
The defence attaché gathered his notes and put his armour on without a second thought. Despite the fact that it was heavy and uncomfortable in the heat, it was part of the routine to never leave a building without wearing it, even if he was just heading back to the embassy in the armoured Mercedes 4x4.
On his way out, he picked up a copy of the Intel assessment and was, for once, looking forward to getting back to his desk. The assessment could be sent back to Copenhagen without further preparation. That left him time to update his last reports on flights by Aero Contractors Ltd – a North Carolina-based outfit owned by the CIA through a maze of offshore companies designed to hide the true ownership. For the less trained eye. Its flights had attracted some attention in the larger political arena. Not only because it could fly into airspace and airports that would typically not welcome a US military plane, but because its activities were closely tied to the American war on terror. Aero Contractors had thus landed CIA paramilitaries in Afghanistan in 2001 and was now carrying out ‘renditions’, as they were called in CIA jargon. The term covered transfers by the CIA of terror suspects from one 86country to imprisonment and interrogation in another. They were often taken to enhanced interrogation programmes using torture at so-called ‘black sites’, something that made Danish politicians itchy, which was why his reports on these flights were given top priority in FE and at the Ministry of Defence back in Copenhagen.
As he sat in the back seat of the Mercedes, he decided to highlight the parts of today’s briefing that detailed narcotics and the links to organised crime and right-wing political groups in Russia.
In light of the recent catch by the Jaegers, these bits would be appreciated back home. And the Russian soldiers’ involvement looked less than coincidental in light of this information. The combination of narcotics, Russian right-wing extremism and Al-Qaeda was a volatile cocktail. Add to this the fact that the press had been given the identities of the Jaegers involved, and the whole thing suddenly appeared dangerous. Maybe, for once, I’ll actually make a difference; better send it as TOP PRIORITY, he thought and nodded to the armed guard as the driver pulled out of the gate. There’s still time for a nap before dinner. He closed his eyes while the driver manoeuvred the car through the traffic on the roads.