Malik arrived in Kabul at 9:00 p.m. He and his men had met with a local Taliban sheik at a village outside Camp Bravo. He’d loaned them two pickup trucks so that they could speed their way to Kabul. The stars were bright and beautiful above him as they pulled up at the bottom of the hill where the Shaheen family home sat.
They got out of their pickups and quietly assembled near Malik. He put on a special pair of night goggles stolen from an American soldier during a heated battle. He liked these goggles because, suddenly, night became day. Everything was green and grainy, but he could see. This was the first time he’d ever been this close to the Shaheen estate. As he used binoculars and began a survey of the home, he realized it was going to be very hard to attack.
Ameen, his second in command, came up to him. “My lord, is there a way we can assault the home?”
Malik growled under his breath, “There’s heavy brush all around the hill. At the top, there is a ten-foot wall. And on top of the wall is concertina barbed wire.” Dropping the binoculars, he handed them to the young man, who wore a worn brown turban on his head. “Stay here. I’m going to look around. With these goggles, I’ll be able to see much more.” He picked up his rifle and melted into the night, leaving his men standing quietly by the trucks.
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