It was a particularly steamy evening in Makati, one that made breathing difficult even by local standards. Living in a tropical climate meant dealing with periodically stifling humidity and frequent typhoons, but it was better than having to suffer through the long winters and limited daylight in Afghanistan.

Ashraf had just returned home from yet another uneventful long-haul flight, this time from L.A. He was weary, but always enjoyed the technical aspects of flying: the rush of knowing how to manipulate one of the world's largest passenger aircraft to seemingly do the impossible — get 388 tons of various metals, fibers and cargo (human and otherwise) into the air, follow a precise path 12,000 miles and land the B777-200LR back on the ground with an imperceptible bump on the runway. Were it not for the relatively busy times during take-offs and landings, he could virtually sleep the entire flight and rely on the complex computer systems to fly the plane.

But his keen intellect would never be satisfied by allowing that. Ash was a demanding pilot and insisted on constant risk-contingency planning: what would be his thought process and course of action if a sudden emergency occurred? His ever-busy mind would run dozens of scenarios over and over, from sudden unexpected turbulence to cabin depressurization (albeit something less than catastrophic as that would by definition be unrecoverable). He was a bit old-school in a lot of ways, almost as if he held in disdain what most pilots would consider their goal for every flight — uneventful stability and nothing to worry about except where to have dinner that night.

Ash prided himself on his meticulous sense of planning, to exercise his mind to consider not just what was in front of him but, more importantly, what wasn't. He tended to focus his mental energy beyond the here and now, to try to predict the future, or at least be ready for anything that might come his way. It was something of a hindrance to give a passing nod to the current conditions, as this was a distraction from his prime focus on what might lie ahead.

He excelled in academics from an early age and later graduated from Herat University in Western Afghanistan with highest honors in their aeronautical engineering program. His achievements, coupled with a desire to be a pilot, were quickly noticed by the country's emerging air force, and upon graduation he was selected for the prestigious National Military Academy in Kabul. He continued to flourish in that regimented environment and became an outstanding pilot during his active duty that followed.

His political views were a mix of conservative Islam and somewhat neutral acceptance of the western cultural influences that were shaping the new Afghanistan as it emerged from decades of oppressive regimes. There was no doubt that his country was becoming more Americanized by the day, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but it left many natives questioning their desire to maintain their heritage, not entirely sure they wanted to let go of centuries-old customs and habits. On the other hand, they also enjoyed more peace than many citizens had known in their lifetimes, thanks to the strong United States military presence.

The U.S. operated several large bases as well as numerous smaller camps and other installations throughout the country with the main goal of maintaining stability. A secondary objective, although not as publicized for many reasons, was to escalate the war on terrorism and send a clear message that Afghanistan would not be tolerant of it. Being a country with lots of mountainous and virtually inaccessible terrain, which radicals and other thugs were particularly fond of, there was a heavy reliance on the use of aerial drones to collect all manner of intelligence. It was during a trip by his wife and children to her family's ancestral village near Baghlan in the Pamirs that a U.S.-led attack had unfortunately claimed them as innocent victims, forever changing Ash's life and political views.

After that tragic accident, no amount of apologies from the U.S. government could fill the enormous void it had created. There were many offers of assistance, including financial compensation, but Ash's now-rapidly increasing resentment toward that country prevented him from accepting anything; he was a man of principle and could not acknowledge, nor extend, any form of forgiveness. He grew ever more distasteful of the western influences that were rapidly invading Afghani culture and knew he had to live somewhere else. He soon resigned his military commission and was determined to move, but where? He knew he needed to be far away (and desired a warmer climate), so he moved literally halfway around the world to the Philippines.

As he maneuvered the twisted and chaotic traffic in the city, inching closer to his home in the upscale suburb of Manila, Ash replayed in his mind how he would accomplish the most daring terrorist act the world had ever seen. Were it not for the violent deaths of his wife and children at the hands of the hated Americans, he would never have embarked on such a complex and deadly act of revenge. But when a man loses everything that is important to him and witnesses how fragile life truly is, does it matter what obstacles stand in the way of tunnel-vision justice? His intelligence, training, and inquisitive nature were already swirling into a volatile cocktail that no one could possibly have predicted.

Ash's house was spacious and had three bedrooms, three baths, comfortable den, and a large office. The only downsides were the constant quiet and emptiness that seemed to engulf his surroundings. To try to eliminate the deafening quietude, he invested in some high-end audio equipment (money was not an issue, he had plenty of that — his salary as senior pilot for Filipino International Airlines, headquartered in Manila, was very generous, even by western standards), but the respites from the constant loneliness were short-lived. No amount of background music could make his house seem more like a home. It was just a structure to keep him separated from the real world — a safe haven where he didn't need to interact with anyone. He'd never been an overtly social person and would easily be categorized as more of an introvert than an extrovert.

He often reflected back on his younger days growing up in Afghanistan and the events that would shape his life. Everyone's past experiences have a much more profound effect on both their present and future behaviors than they probably realize, or in most cases, care to even think about. Ash intuitively knew this, and his level of self-awareness was keen enough to cause him to examine his past so that he could better understand what his life was meant to accomplish.

He was well aware of the danger of allowing himself to get close to anyone, a lesson learned from the time he was a young boy when orphaned by the loss of his parents to the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Witnessing their deaths was hard enough for a child that was barely eight years old, but the subsequent years of hardship from being raised in a desolate institution for the numerous homeless children in that impoverished country left emotional and physical scars that would never completely heal. It was no surprise that he had learned to shelter his emotions after all that he'd been through, and he wasn't sure that he would ever allow himself to open his heart to even consider having his own family one day.

Ash wasn't a...