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Authors: Khalid Muhammad
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into an intelligence report that would be parsed by the instructor, leaving Kamal to wonder whether he had caught the right threads and identified the right people. This, much to Kamal’s consternation, was a daily event at The Jungle.
The psychological training was peppered with tactical driving, close quarter combat, survival training, surveillance tactics and interrogation techniques to make the candidate a stronger operative, if they graduated with high enough marks to be put in the field. The goal of The Jungle was to create top-level operatives that could be posted to different stations around the world to gather intelligence, recruit potential spies and report back actionable information. Oh, and to stay alive in the harshest of conditions.
Kamal had excelled in the art of tradecraft and human espionage. He also tested very high in linguistics and intelligence gathering skills. His only weakness was his rudimentary knowledge of international affairs. As a result, there were stacks of history books, magazines and newspapers on his desk in the hostel. As his instructors regularly reminded him, he had to understand the history of the cultures to be able to effectively influence them.
He was luckier than most. His civilian classmates were almost all taking extra fitness training, including ten-mile hikes and runs through the forest.
“It’s not fucking fair.” Irfan was one of the weakest members of the civilian students; Kamal irked him. “You get to lay in bed reading a stupid newspaper while I have to kill myself on the track every day!”
Kamal gave him a cold look. He ’d joined the military because classroom studies bored him, and here he was, with his nose stuck in a book. The last thing he needed was a sniveling idiot whining about being out in the fresh air. “There’s no such thing as an easy day at the office in the intelligence world. Get used to it.”
Chapter 5
“Captain, you’ve graduated now. You don’t have to skulk in corners to smoke a cigarette.” Major Iftikhar found a scowling Kamal in a secluded corner of the academy grounds, which were overflowing with people. “Why are you hiding?” It was a rhetorical question. Kamal didn’t mingle.
“Iffi.” Kamal nodded to his mentor and friend. The Major gave him a friendly slap on the back.
“Cheer up, yaar. This is a moment of celebration. Your career is just about to take off, and you’ve retreated to the only quiet place on the campus. Why aren’t you out there with your friends?”
“Because family ’s out there.”
The Major ’s eyebrows shot up at Kamal’s laconic reply. “Your… dad?” He knew that Kamal’s contact with his estranged father was limited to visits home for Eid holidays, whenever possible, but few and far in between compared to other enlisted men. There was no love lost between them. “Hmmm. Have you met him?”
“Not yet.” This wasn ’t Kamal’s first graduation ceremony. Basic training, sniper school in Quetta, his medal awards and now the ISI Academy. Afzal Khan hadn’t been to a single one of the previous events. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Kamal shrugged off the question niggling at the back of his mind. “I’m more concerned with my first posting. I’m afraid I’ll spend the next year behind a desk at Military Intelligence in Gujranwala or Peshawar. Then, as my last year of ISI posting starts, I might get a posting to one of the ISI division offices, but I’m not holding my breath for that one.”
Unlike other academies he had been to, the Jungle did not share final marks or grades with the candidates. These were passed directly to the Commandant along with respective instructor ’s notes, which were added to the candidate’s file. Kamal did not receive a report on his overall performance, other than what he had gleaned from his instructors, marking it hard to know where he might be posted. Nor could he eliminate possibilities by figuring out where his classmates
The psychological training was peppered with tactical driving, close quarter combat, survival training, surveillance tactics and interrogation techniques to make the candidate a stronger operative, if they graduated with high enough marks to be put in the field. The goal of The Jungle was to create top-level operatives that could be posted to different stations around the world to gather intelligence, recruit potential spies and report back actionable information. Oh, and to stay alive in the harshest of conditions.
Kamal had excelled in the art of tradecraft and human espionage. He also tested very high in linguistics and intelligence gathering skills. His only weakness was his rudimentary knowledge of international affairs. As a result, there were stacks of history books, magazines and newspapers on his desk in the hostel. As his instructors regularly reminded him, he had to understand the history of the cultures to be able to effectively influence them.
He was luckier than most. His civilian classmates were almost all taking extra fitness training, including ten-mile hikes and runs through the forest.
“It’s not fucking fair.” Irfan was one of the weakest members of the civilian students; Kamal irked him. “You get to lay in bed reading a stupid newspaper while I have to kill myself on the track every day!”
Kamal gave him a cold look. He ’d joined the military because classroom studies bored him, and here he was, with his nose stuck in a book. The last thing he needed was a sniveling idiot whining about being out in the fresh air. “There’s no such thing as an easy day at the office in the intelligence world. Get used to it.”
Chapter 5
“Captain, you’ve graduated now. You don’t have to skulk in corners to smoke a cigarette.” Major Iftikhar found a scowling Kamal in a secluded corner of the academy grounds, which were overflowing with people. “Why are you hiding?” It was a rhetorical question. Kamal didn’t mingle.
“Iffi.” Kamal nodded to his mentor and friend. The Major gave him a friendly slap on the back.
“Cheer up, yaar. This is a moment of celebration. Your career is just about to take off, and you’ve retreated to the only quiet place on the campus. Why aren’t you out there with your friends?”
“Because family ’s out there.”
The Major ’s eyebrows shot up at Kamal’s laconic reply. “Your… dad?” He knew that Kamal’s contact with his estranged father was limited to visits home for Eid holidays, whenever possible, but few and far in between compared to other enlisted men. There was no love lost between them. “Hmmm. Have you met him?”
“Not yet.” This wasn ’t Kamal’s first graduation ceremony. Basic training, sniper school in Quetta, his medal awards and now the ISI Academy. Afzal Khan hadn’t been to a single one of the previous events. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Kamal shrugged off the question niggling at the back of his mind. “I’m more concerned with my first posting. I’m afraid I’ll spend the next year behind a desk at Military Intelligence in Gujranwala or Peshawar. Then, as my last year of ISI posting starts, I might get a posting to one of the ISI division offices, but I’m not holding my breath for that one.”
Unlike other academies he had been to, the Jungle did not share final marks or grades with the candidates. These were passed directly to the Commandant along with respective instructor ’s notes, which were added to the candidate’s file. Kamal did not receive a report on his overall performance, other than what he had gleaned from his instructors, marking it hard to know where he might be posted. Nor could he eliminate possibilities by figuring out where his classmates
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