ANA Reborn by Carl Facciponte - HTML preview
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Chapter 37
he Afghan Senior Customs Agent at the T Kandahar airport drew them aside, eying Ana and Rhett suspiciously. He glanced between them and examined their passports, civilian clothes, and the small size of their luggage.
"You are Americans, correct?" the agent asked as his eyes narrowed, looking for tell-tale signs of nervousness. Two other customs agents stood slightly behind their boss.
"That is correct," Ana flatly stated. She offered no more information than what was explicitly asked for, unwilling to give anything that the agent could use to open other lines of questioning. Rhett remained silent and relaxed but alert.
You are members of the U.S. military. Is that also correct?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
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"You see," said the agent with a slight grin, thinking he was backing them into a corner, "it is highly unusual to have American servicemen fly as civilians. Why would you not fly for free on a military transport, Mr. and Mrs. David and Mary Jones?" he asked, glancing again at their passports to ensure he had their names correct.
Rhett laughed and said, "That's easy. You see, there are no more scheduled military flights back to the States for two more days. Mary's aunt just passed away in Chicago, and we need to get there before the funeral services."
"And what is this aunt's name and address, please." He knew he had caught them in a lie now.
Ana quickly scanned the obituaries in the Chicago Tribune for any older women who died two days ago, with a funeral scheduled in approximately three days.
"Her name was Emma Fulbright, 22346
Westside Drive, Chicago. She was 89 years old."
"And what was the cause of death, please?"
"Heart failure brought on by a virus. She died in a nursing home."
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"Did she leave any children?"
"Her only child, Jennifer Fulbright-Watson, died seven years ago."
"Thank you. Please wait here," the agent ordered as he and the two additional customs agents walked several paces off. They whispered, occasionally shaking their heads and glancing over at the couple. The Senior Agent walked off.
"It will be just a few more moments," one of the agents said insincerely. "How long have you been in Afghanistan?"
Ana spoke, "We've been here three months."
"Why are you dressed in civilian clothes instead of your uniforms. Are you not proud of your uniform?" the agent asked with a condescending note in his voice.
"Of course, we are proud of our uniforms,"
Ana replied gently with a smile, "but civilian clothing is so much more comfortable for airline travel. Besides, we have been in uniform for three months straight. A change of style is refreshing, wouldn't you say?" She leaned slightly forward, giving the agent a small peak past the unbuttoned top two buttons of her blouse.
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He stared for a moment, then said with a perceptible shake in his voice, "Ah, yes. I can see your point. Very nice, then." Rhett looked up and rolled his eyes.
As they had been speaking, Rhett accessed the list of personnel at the Lashkar Gah base and added Mr. and Mrs. David and Mary Jones's names, both PFCs. Then, he set a coded auto-delete timer for two hours to erase the entry.
Fifteen minutes later, the Senior Agent returned with a sullen look. "Thank you very much for your patience. You are free to proceed to the ticket counter." The words grated on each other as he spoke.
Ana and Rhett graciously thanked them and complimented their thoroughness. "As you can imagine," Rhett lied, "we appreciate tight security."
The agents followed the couple with their eyes as they were ticketed and walked to the appropriate gate. "I know there is something wrong here, Kabir," the Senior Agent said to one of his companions. "I just can't find what it is.
Every detail fell in place too neatly. Call security in Kabul and have them watched."
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***
The flight from Kandahar to Kabul was a short one hour and fifteen minutes"I see them," whispered Sabeer Zaidi, Chief of Security at the Hamid Karzai International Airport. "You two, approach them and ask for their papers. I will follow you," he said to the two lower-ranking airport security guards standing with him.
The two officers approached Ana and Rhett, their faces cold with scorn for the two Americans.
With salt and pepper hair trimmed short, the more senior of the two said, "May we see your passports and tickets?" asked. The sternness of his voice and dead, unfriendly eyes made it very clear the polite words were only a formality.
"Is there a problem, officers?" Rhett asked as he handed the papers over. Ana complied with a smile and offered hers at the same time.
There was no response from the security guard. He and his partner examined the papers closely, talking quietly in Pashto. "Where are you coming from?" asked the more senior official.
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"We are coming from the Lakash Gar base and are going home for a funeral," replied Rhett.
Ana, it would be better to let me take the lead in this conversation. These guys don't look like they would understand about women answering questions when a man was there to do it.
Ana nodded in agreement. The security guards either didn't notice, or didn't think the nod of a woman's head was significant enough to question.
Sabeer Zaidi joined the group. After reviewing the passports and visas, he looked up at Rhett and said, "Would the two of you please follow me?" He brought them to a small security office conference room off the main airport lobby.
Rhett asked, "Is there a problem, Officer?"
"That's what we are going to find out," came the icy reply.
Rhett, honey, this is no time to lose your cool. Stay calm and compliant, Ana wifi'd. It was Rhett's turn to nod.
The bleak room was barely large enough to seat the five of them around the metal table. The walls and ceiling were painted in a flat medium 292
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gray. No pictures or posters were hung to provide any visual relief.
"Tell me, why are military people traveling in civilian clothes and have wooden camels and Afghani shawls and trinkets in their suitcases?"
Rhett spoke, "We are going home for a funeral and are bringing some souvenirs back for friends."
"And you expect me to believe this? That you are not spies bringing military information back?"
Sit tight, Ana. This part should be good.
Rhett, don't you dare do anything that will delay us!
You know I would never do anything rash like that, right?
Without waiting for Ana to answer, he spoke in perfect Pashto. "Yes, I would expect you to believe our story because it is the truth. With your experience, a person would have to be foolish to try to lie to you. You would know it instantly, wouldn't you?"
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Sabeer's eyes widened. "Why do you speak our language so fluently? That proves you are a spy!" he shouted.
"Officer, my father was of Afghani descent.
Look at me closely. Can you not see that I am partially Afghan? My mother was an English convert to the faith. I was taught Pashto as a young child."
Sabeer examined Rhett closely for a minute.
"Do you practice the faith?" he asked.
Rhett shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not the way I should. I need to get back to my roots.
That's why I volunteered for an assignment in this country. To not only serve the people, but to learn about myself."
"And has it helped you to be here?" Sabeer said quietly.
"Yes, sir. I understand things much better now, and so does my wife."
"I would hope you would explain to her the teachings of the Prophet," he said with unexpected softness as he looked at Ana. "The man rules the house, but the woman teaches the children."
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"Yes, I expect to be able to teach her many things now that I have a better understanding."
Abruptly Sabeer stood. "You may both go on your way," he said as he walked out of the room, motioning the two other guards to follow him.
Once outside of the room, the junior guard asked, "Why the sudden change? Shouldn't we question them longer?"
"There was no need to. You both know I can tell instantly if any man is lying to me. That is how I rose to this position. I tell you, that is not a man who was lying. The head of security in Kandahar sees ghosts and spies around every lamp post. Let's move on to more important work."
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