Chapter 3
The first thing Callen noticed was the constant haze of heat. He had forgotten how stifling it was in Pakistan. When he showed up at his friend's house, Mustafa didn't even recognize him.
(In Pashto) "Mustafa," said a disguised Callen smiling.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" asked a very defensive and alert Mustafa, keeping the door half open whilst peering out.
"Really? You don't recognize me?" continued Callen, chuckling to himself how real his disguise seemed and wonderfully well he articulated Pashto.
"No. I don't have time for beggars. Go now!" Mustafa said convincingly whilst trying to shut the door.
Callen had had enough fun…he could always count on Mustafa for a laugh. "Oh, it's me Callen, Mustafa," he said placing his hand on the door and pushing it open as he removed his shemagh.
"I don't know a Callen. Please leave," insisted a perplexed Mustafa. Callen was Caucasian, with sandy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. This was not Callen.
"Mustafa…listen. The night in Lahore, you drank too much remember, the red head flirted with you and you followed, but there was one thing you didn't realize, she wasn't a she. A secret you and me only know …do I need to say it?" teased Callen looking at his old friend with a wry smile.
Mustafa's face dropped with surprise and concern. No one knew their secret yet this stranger did, "Ok…you know about Lahore. If you are Callen, show me the scar, the scar I gave you."
"You want me to show you that…out here…where people can see me taking off my clothes?" continued Callen amazed at Mustafa's paranoia.
"Ok ok…come inside but stay near the door." Mustafa moved back and allowed Callen to enter but to his surprise Mustafa was brandishing a gun. Callen just shook his head and pulled up his brown linen tunic, then twisted his body to reveal a jagged ten centimeter scar just under his left rib cage.
"Happy? Eight years ago in Kabul. I had been lent out to you at ISI (Pakistani Secret Service) and we had just cracked the case when you were captured. I found you beaten and drugged out of your mind. You attacked me while I was trying to free you. You thought I was one of them," a tinge of sorrow clouded Callen's face. It was a painful memory that he hated remembering.
"Yes…I was hallucinating…I thought you were someone else…the drugs they gave me…I stabbed you with a rusted blade. But you…you saved me," finished Mustafa, staring at Callen and wiping the tears that suddenly started to slide down his cheeks.
The look that transpired between the two colleagues was intimate and so very powerful. It was Mustafa who lent in and grabbed Callen into a strong embrace, patting his back several times, then grabbed his shoulders pushing him away to get a good look. "This disguise it's…brilliant…amazing. How?" asked Mustafa, but it didn't surprise him. He knew Callen very well, he knew how easily Callen could transform himself but this was extreme even for him.
"Well, let's see…my suntan is actually a skin dye…contacts to hide my baby blues and last of all hair dye…easy and so effective but everything starts to come apart after 2 weeks and this carriage turns into a pumpkin. That's my window of opportunity Mustafa. That's the time I have to complete my mission," explained Callen turning serious.
"Come sit down…what do I call you?" asked Mustafa clearing a chair for Callen.
"It's Aziz Umar. We were university friends. Both engineers. We haven't seen each other for some years and in the mean time my ideas have become politically radical," explained Callen.
Mustafa stared at him, and his face cringed in frightening anticipation, "You want to join Raza's group? Ahhhhhh….the hostages, they're American. I see! First of all let me tell you, you are mad, absolutely mad, then tell me your plan."
Callen recounted as much as he could to the precise detail then took a breath and stared at an incredulous friend. "Your plan is insane!" gesticulated an angry Mustafa whilst pacing back and forth in the dusty room of is two-room hovel. "Callen, you have no chance of succeeding…it will be suicide. Raza's group is extreme and brutal. The marines, there is no hope for them…no hope and no hope for you if you get caught."
Callen was sitting, indulging in some angoor sharbat, and totally ignoring Mustafa's ramblings. Mustafa stopped and stared at Callen. Cocking his head in frustration, "Are you listening to me? No you're not. You've made up your mind haven't you?" Callen didn't respond, however he looked up at Mustafa and smirked. "You have you bastard! Well I won't help you…no and you can't make me, Callen…not this time."
"Mustafa you owe me and you owe me big. I don't need a lot. I just need an introduction to Hussein Aban, then I'll do the rest," stated a very relaxed Callen.
"Raza's recruitment man…you are serious about this?" asked a worried Mustafa finding a stool and sitting opposite Callen.
Callen nodded, his determination and sincerity biting at Mustafa's heart, "One of the marines is my partner. He's my best friend, no, more than that, he's my brother Mustafa…you know what that means to me. He also has family. I won't let him die not if I can stop it."
Mustafa understood how important family was to Callen and he understood why he was so adamant in seeing this through. He was convinced, "He is a lucky man, your friend. Ok, I will do it. My father-in-law is attending Jummah tomorrow. Hussein does most of his recruiting there…I'll arrange an introduction." Mustafa took a moment to take in a breath before continuing, "Callen, you must know how serious the situation will become. They are very suspicious the best of times. You need to be paranoid, you need to be vigilant even when you are asleep and you will be on your own…"
Callen saw the concern in his Pakistani friend. He smiled hoping it would quell his fears, "I know and you should know I work best that way. I only need a week at most Mustafa. I've got SEALS backing me up. I don't want you to do anything else. I don't want to cause you and your family any trouble…"
"Well there's nothing more to say…"
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Friday morning didn't seem any different to any other, but Callen knew it would be. Today he would cease to be Special Agent G. Callen and become Aziz Umar. He filed G. Callen away, sound and sound in the recesses of his mind. Maybe if everything went according to plan, he'd open the file again. Callen sat up and felt that damned headache pound against his skull. He didn't hear Mustafa approach, "Callen, you alright?" asked his concerned friend.
It took a moment but Callen lifted his gaze and stared at his friend, "Yeah…yeah I'm good. Just a headache. No more English, Mustafa. Pashto from now on ok?"
(all dialogue is in Pashto)
"Fine…Aziz. We need to go," said Mustafa.
The walk was short, maybe fifteen minutes along a stony dusty road. Callen kept his head down and walked a step behind Mustafa. Most of the town's men had congregated outside the Mosque ready to enter for the Jummah. Callen had studied and practised all the rituals ad nauseum. He wouldn't make a mistake because he knew they'd be watching him…a new face always roused curiosity. Mustafa and Callen noticed a group of men involved in a heated discussion, amongst them was Hussein and Mustafa's father-in-law. Mustafa gave Callen a worried look, "This is not good."
Nevertheless they approached the group of men and waited hovering quietly on the perimeter. Callen could hear their discussion, "Hussein you can't involve anymore of our youth. They need to be home with their families…they need to earn a living. The little ones are starving."
"You don't understand old man, they are helping their families by fighting for Islam. Yusef if you keep talking like this one might think your allegiances lie elsewhere," accused Hussein.
Yusef pulled his shoulders back, "Watch your tongue little boy. You may have the force and influence of Raza behind you, but my life and my soul are in the hands of Allah."
"I mean no disrespect. We should get inside," said Hussein, obviously intimidated by the town elder, motioned to his posse and turned to head into the Mosque. Mustafa saw the tension in the old man's shoulders release. He walked up and greeted his father-in-law, "Good morning father."
Yusef was taken aback, "Oh Mustafa, my son, how are you?"
"Fine. Hussein causing trouble again?" he asked glancing in Hussein's direction.
"Not more than usual. It pains me Mustafa, that he blinds the youth with his grandiose speeches. They're so young, so vulnerable and so easily led," said Yusef as his eyes fell on Callen; his eyebrows scowling at the newcomer. Mustafa noticed Yusef's distraction.
"Father, this is Aziz Umar. He is a university friend from Kulachi," offered Mustafa looking rather at ease with his lie.
Yusef looked Callen up and down, "Aziz Umar…umm from Kulachi. Do you have an uncle called Fahad Umar?"
Callen could see right through the cunning old man. He was testing him. But Callen had been prepared for it and the lie came easy, "Fahad? No sir, but I have an uncle Kabir in Kulachi. He is a tailor."
Yusef took a deep breath and smiled, "Oh yes…Kabir the tailor. The memory of an old man forever failing me. Welcome Aziz, welcome to Wana. You will join us in prayer?"
Mustafa smiled as did Callen, "Of course." The younger men allowed Yusef to enter first. "Sitting with my father-in-law will give you clout. Hussein will be curious and he will want to meet you," whispered Mustafa. Callen nodded maintaining a very humble and meek demeanour. They took their places kneeling on the opulent rugs with the heads bowed when Callen felt a presence beside him. He couldn't look across as prayer had begun but he knew who it was and he couldn't hide the smile from his face. Callen hadn't missed a beat. He played his part perfectly.
After the Jummah had ended, he and Mustafa exited the Mosque. Hussein was talking to some youths near the ornate gates of the Mosque when a young man approached Callen and Mustafa, "Mustafa, how are you friend?"
Mustafa stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the young man. His look was cold and serious. It was obvious there was no love lost, "I am not your friend. If you please…"
"Oh Mustafa…how long will you hold onto that grudge? Anyway this doesn't concern you. Hussein wants to meet your friend Aziz. He has heard much about him."
Callen looked at Mustafa. The look said everything. This was it…now Callen would be on his own and Mustafa didn't like it one bit. Trepidation and fear evident on Mustafa's face. "Does he need your permission, Mustafa?"
"Mustafa, I'll meet you at home," said Callen reassuring his friend this is what he wanted. Mustafa nodded, patted Callen's shoulder with affection and left. It was hard for him to leave Callen, but this is what he wanted and Mustafa respected that.
Then Callen turned to the messenger. "He has a name. I'm Aziz Umar." The messenger's face was startled by the power behind Callen's retort. It took him aback and left him standing almost speechless when Callen heard another voice.
"You see, Aziz. You send your soldiers to do the most meaningless task and yet they cannot succeed. So what hope do we have to topple the western regime, I ask you?" Husssein clapped the soldier on the head and sent him away, then turned his attention to Callen. "Aziz Umar, pleased to meet you. I'm Hussein Aban. I think you know who I am," smiled Hussein.
Callen nodded trying to appear unassuming and lowly, "Yes. It is an honour."
"It is refreshing to find a man that doesn't suffer from the sin of pride and you, Aziz, have a lot to be proud of…engineer and military man and yet you are here in Wana," said Hussein looking suspiciously at Callen. Callen looked around, feigning a sense of secrecy and fear.
"Ah you are afraid others might overhear our conversation. Come, let's walk." Hussein and Callen started walking along the desolate road, "Tell me why are you here?"
Callen looked at Hussein and then down at the ground, "I lost someone very dear to me at the hands of those western dogs. It was then I realised that our military was controlled by the corrupt who do the bidding of those of are not of our faith and don't understand our struggles. So I want to help our people take control of what is truly theirs…I want to join Raza's group. I believe I can be of much assistance."
"An educated man who has seen the truth. If only other's were like you brother. Tell me, how did your sister die?" Callen stopped dead in his tracks. They were quick. Eric's backstopping was holding. They had checked him out before he had made his debut into Wana society, so to speak.
Suddenly his face became sullen and a grim shadow loomed on his features, "Allyra was caught in American crossfire. She bled out on the road, alone…my beautiful sister."
"I feel your pain brother. Join us and we will make them pay. Our camp is just beyond those hills," said Hussein pointing northwest of their current position. "Stay, pray and fight with us and get your revenge. Raza will be pleased with you."
Callen smiled and nodded. "Thank you for this opportunity. I will not let you down." He was in.
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They walked together whilst his entourage lagged behind. Callen found Hussein a frustrating and boring thug…nothing else, on the other hand Aziz hung on his every word until they arrived at the camp.
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