The Puppetmasters

  Fields fervently wished he knew Kendall better. She had been very relaxed at the dinner at Shazeb’s palace. She and Rashid appeared to be playing a part. Fields had detected an underlying theme or plot to which both Kendall and Rashid seemed to have assigned roles. Looking back on the evening, one could even say that Kendall and Rashid had played both sons against each other in the presence of their father. But how could they have known the brothers would turn on each other, be killed, and the father would be forced to avenge his favorite son? They couldn’t possibly have known that. President Shazeb wasn’t even in the room when Saaqib shot Ahmad.

  The Orion CEO fell back onto the bed into an exhausted sleep, woozy from analyzing the different scenarios in his head.

  In the morning, Fields requested a visit with Glenn Carson. The CFO was awake and alert. He had a lot of questions about where he was and what had happened in the past weeks. Fields brought him up to speed in a non-specific way, saying that they had been rescued by the Israelis from the rooftop of a building in Afghanistan. Carson could not believe he had been unconscious for so long. Within an hour, Carson was overly stimulated and exhausted. Fields was asked to let him sleep. He went back to his room in much better spirits.

  Early afternoon brought the helicopter that would shuttle the Orion executives to Tel Aviv. Carson was moved without incident into the helicopter, along with his accompanying attending physician and the Afghanistan doctor, Maysah Siddra. Carson was strapped into place together with the medical supplies and machines he required. Finally, Paul Fields was summoned and settled into his seat.

  The chopper, a Chinook CH-47F, was more suited for the transport of passengers. The sleek design and high-tech modernized digital control system made for a smooth, quick, and safe transport to the Tel Aviv naval station, where Carson was whisked off to the nearby world-famous trauma center.

  Fields was ushered into yet another conference room, where he was subjected to an additional debriefing by the Israelis. There was nothing more that he could or would tell them they didn’t already know.

  Finally, toward early evening, his Orion security detail was allowed onto the naval base where they retrieved him and drove to the nearby Carlton Tel Aviv. He was overwhelmed when he got a look at the luxury suites his executive admin had booked for him and his staff. They had half the suites on one floor. He was overjoyed when he saw luggage for him that included all of the clothes and shoes he needed to replace the ones left behind in Afghanistan.

  He was informed that Mrs. Carson, as expected, accompanied the security detail to Tel Aviv. After checking into the hotel, she was taken to the trauma center, where she was now refusing to leave her husband’s bedside. One car and security guard remained with her.

  Fields felt rejuvenated. He couldn’t get over the unbelievable luxurious comforts the hotel offered. For weeks he had worn soiled clothing and slept on a bed that was really nothing more than a cot. His security detail ordered sushi for him while he took a hot, steaming shower. He remained in his room for the evening, where he could relax and look out onto the Mediterranean Sea below.

  He was anxious to get onto the corporate network and work on emails and review key documents awaiting his critical analyses. It was morning in Seattle, and he was pleased he would be able to connect with his employees at corporate headquarters. After several hours of intense work, he was completely exhausted and had lost all desire to get up to speed any further on events at work. He marveled at how quickly he tired at the slightest attempt to focus. Of course, he had no idea he was suffering the effects of an extended period of stress and trauma.

  Fields dismissed his security detail for the night and sent them to their rooms. He watched a little news and called his family. His children gave him such comfort and brought him back to the realities of family life. They updated him with the trivial happenings at school and on the soccer field. He loved hearing their banter. He really and truly appreciated his kids for the first time.

  He vowed that he would repair his marriage when he returned. As soon as he was caught up at the office, and the board of directors and shareholders were assured that nothing untoward had happened to him and that things could get back to “normal,” he would take his wife on a vacation.

  His wife came on the line and asked when he would be returning. He told her he would not leave until Carson was able to travel in a matter of days. He hoped that within a couple days there would be word of Kendall and maybe even another rescue. It would be just perfect if they all traveled back home to Seattle together. But in the pit of his stomach he knew that would never happen.

  His last call was to Daniel Blumfeld. Using his new cell phone, he plugged in the scrambler for a secure, direct line that he was assured would not be heard, recorded, or streamed real time by third parties. The young man was shocked to hear his boss’s voice on the other side of the line when he answered the phone.

  “My God, Mr. Fields, are you and Mr. Carson okay? Are you back in Seattle?”

  “Yes, Daniel, we are fine and are in Tel Aviv. Glenn is in the hospital for a couple more days, and then we’ll fly back to Seattle together.”

  “Wha—wha—what about Kendall Radcliffe?” he stuttered. “Is she with you?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But that’s why I’m calling you. Daniel, I need you to concentrate on looking for any word about her. Focus your efforts on any communication dealing with her, her body, her whereabouts, any rescue, etc.”

  Daniel was alarmed. “Her body? Do you think she’s dead?”

  “I don’t know, Daniel,” Fields stated, feeling miserable. “But if there’s the slightest chance you and I can find her, we’re going to do it.”

  “I’ll get right on it, Mr. Fields. Do you know where she might be?”

  “The last time I saw her, she was on the rooftop of the Afghanistan government AIDC building. So, if you could use Proph to monitor General Omar or any other Afghanistan government leader, that should give us an update.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Include Israel in your monitoring. They are definitely not telling me everything. Also, a young Afghan by the name of Rashid Sharif was instrumental in getting us rescued. He was left behind also. If you find Kendall, you will also find Rashid. He needs to be rescued as well. Daniel, we would not have been found if it wasn’t for Rashid. He’s a good guy. But for now, don’t reveal anything to anyone about Rashid. Okay?”

  Daniel was well aware of the U.S. intelligence connection with Prophecy too, but Fields didn’t know that Daniel knew. So, the young man had to tread lightly. “Absolutely. But Mr. Fields?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you going to tell anyone else about your theories of Kendall?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “What about the FBI or CIA? Is there anyone you know that might be able to help us?”

  “Possibly, Daniel, but not yet. When you find more information, I’m going to shake every tree I can to get someone in DC to jump in.”

  “Excellent, Mr. Fields. I’ll start right away.”

  “Good. I’m going to bed now, so I’ll talk to you at the end of your day.”

  They rang off, and both men sat at their respective desks—Daniel in the office and Fields in his hotel room—lost in thought. Daniel was greatly relieved that something was going to be done about Kendall. He was also reassured that his full-court press of snooping via Prophecy was sanctioned by the boss. Maybe Prophecy could finally be used for good. It occurred to the Orion site and IT manager that Fields was obviously feeling guilty about an employee having been left behind, while he managed to get rescued. He had never known Paul Fields to care about anyone or anything but business. He had always been considered ruthless and cold.

  Daniel roused himself from his musings and rose from his desk to go refill his coffee mug. He was going to need a lot of caffeine fortification for the next couple of days. He was determined to be the driving force behind uncovering the whereabouts of Kendall
Radcliff. As he walked to the kitchen, he pondered Israel’s current role. He, too, agreed that something odd and seemingly sinister was developing between the Mossad and/or Israel about what to do with Kendall and Rashid. From what Daniel had already gleaned from observing communications within Israeli intelligence, it believed that Rashid might be alive, but Kendall not at all. Daniel’s heart fell to his stomach in a thud at the thought that Prophecy might have been used to eliminate one of his friends and a valued co-worker. He gave a big sigh as he grabbed a larger cup from the cupboard and filled it with steaming black coffee.

  Paul Fields sat motionless at the little desk in his hotel room, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea. He had never second-guessed the development and use of Prophecy. He had rationalized it as a brilliant high-tech business device that gave him an edge. He told himself from the very beginning that it was a necessary business decision. That in order to get ahead in this day and age, one had to make sacrifices and make difficult decisions as the head of the company.

  He found it interesting that during the conversation with Daniel, he could not bring himself to utter Prophecy’s whole name. He felt kind of sick now about his slick high-tech masterpiece. After all, wasn’t it the existence of Prophecy that started this whole nightmare scenario into which he had been thrust against his will? His conscience—something he took prize in controlling and ignoring or at the very least suppressing—reminded him that Kendall Radcliffe hadn’t even known about Prophecy, and yet she was caught up—and possibly even dead now—as a result. It was likely that as a result of his “business decision,” an employee had gotten caught in the same vicious web as he, but through no fault of her own. The worst thing was that people had been quick to cast blame or responsibility on her. Guilt by association, he thought wretchedly. In actuality, he was the “guilty” party, and yet he got rescued and she didn’t.

  Fields walked into the bathroom, looked around and suddenly stopped. For a moment, he basked in the luxury of the modern amenities. But he was soon beside himself with self-loathing. Here he was, about to brush his teeth in the most amazing glittering suite, and God knows what was happening or had happened to Kendall Radcliffe. Was she living like a rat? Was she hurt? Did she even know who she was? Was she even alive?

  Fields had to stop himself, because there was nothing he could do about Kendall’s situation at this very moment. He and Daniel were going to do everything they could to find her and Rashid. He just hoped it would be in time.

  As he crawled into bed and sank into the luxurious down comforter and pillows, he found that he couldn’t sleep. The bed was too soft. The covers were too many, too heavy, and too fine. His silk pajamas had him sliding all over the bed. He felt like he was falling or out of control. He tossed and turned all night with images of Kendall in his mind either lying dead … without her head … or running for her life with a crazed look of fear on her face. He wasn’t so far off on the latter. Things would rapidly go downhill for Kendall in the coming days.

  In the morning, Fields’ security detail found him on the floor of his hotel room next to the King-sized bed in search of more solid ground … having yanked a pillow and the comforter off the bed. He had finally found a comfortable position and was sleeping soundly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  RASHID PEERED OUT OF THEIR Bamiyan cave at first morning light. People were beginning to stir and move about. Poya ate a quick morning meal with green tea and then took off for the nearby Bamiyan village. He followed close behind a group of children, so he would know the safest route to the morning market. The children knew where the landmines were and how to avoid them.

  While much of Afghanistan had been cleared of the ten million landmines from the combined Soviet occupation, Al-Qaeda, and the Taliban, hundreds of thousands still dotted the Afghan countryside. The country still possessed the unfortunate honor of being one of the most heavily-mined in the world … the result of prolonged wars. The ordnances ranged in size from smaller than a cigarette lighter to the size of a saucer. The greatest number of children in the world killed by landmines was still in Afghanistan. Poya needed to keep that in mind and be very careful to pick a well-traveled, known path to the market.

  Kendall and Rashid stayed behind and fretted the entire time he was gone. Occasionally, Rashid walked about outside, listening to his neighbors’ conversations and keeping abreast of the news. Kendall was going stir crazy in the cave, particularly when she was left alone. Most people walking by their cave peered in out of curiosity. Kendall had no choice but to keep her headscarf low so that it virtually covered her entire face. She was also not used to sitting with her legs crossed for an extended period of time. Her legs were alternately cramping and stiff.

  Finally, after four hours Poya arrived back at the cave all by himself. Rashid had taken care to tuck money into Poya’s pockets and inside the lining of his light jacket before he left in the morning. He had been warned to be very careful when retrieving any money from his clothing. It was imperative that he not be seen with even a little cash. He had been mindful of that as he went from tent to tent and made a few purchases. He came back with his pockets full … having carefully folded and hidden the clothing that he bought Kendall.

  She was surprised when he pulled out a Kuchi tribal metallic embroidered belt and gypsy silver hoop earrings with glass inlays for her. Rashid had told him to purchase a couple Kuchi nomad items for Kendall, as that might be their next role should they need to ditch the jeep. He didn’t want to tell Kendall that it was only a matter of time before they would lose it.

  A Kuchi nomad was an abadi—a free person that was not aligned with any particular tribe. They were independent and self-sufficient, mostly traveling from place to place. They were a tough, hardy strain of people who could easily kill you or offer you a place to stay for the evening, depending on how you treated them or what you had to offer. Some got involved in illegal activities—like heroin trafficking—while others chose a much simpler, more peaceful nomadic life moving their sheep and camels from one pastureland to another. They sold their wares at the local bazaars and bartered and traded their goods, eking out a small subsistence living for their large, extended families.

  Because they were so capable of looking after themselves, they had the respect and ear of the Afghanistan government. They moved around so much that they generally knew what was going on wherever they went. While President Shazeb had scoffed at the notion of their usefulness, regular government officials routinely sought them out when ethnic tensions resulted in sudden bloody skirmishes and uprisings within Afghanistan. The Kuchi nomads saw everything and were often helpful in getting to the truth during fact-finding missions. As Rashid saw it, the Kuchi nomads were not loyal to Shazeb, and could even be said to dislike the despot. But it would behoove him to keep in mind that they were loyal to the few government officials who sought them out. Rashid was more than willing to assume the risk.

  He hoped to blend right in if need be. While they were only a group of three—and the normal Kuchi family had extended members—Rashid figured he would pass them off as a young family on the way to meet relatives in the next village. Kuchis often traveled together, but in small bands, maybe a few hours behind their other family members. He would just need to lie convincingly.

  Kendall laughed when Poya pulled out a small sack of lur and offered her a lump. He immediately popped a piece of the hard candy made from brown sugar into his mouth, and a slow smile spread across his face. He was clearly relishing the taste.

  He recounted that some children asked him to play mosa near the market, and he did. But he was older and taller than the other kids and soon lost interest. Rashid explained to Kendall that mosa was like horseshoes but with the use of a rock instead of a horseshoe.

  Poya had not learned anything critical about their predicament or the government situation. He had only seen a few soldiers who seemed to be strolling about rather than hunting for someone or something. He watched a little news on a fl
at-screen television at a shop inside a tent at the market, but was shooed off by the owner for loitering.

  Rashid asked him where the other children were, and why he came back alone. Poya broke into a huge grin and said they all went to watch a game of buzkashi at a nearby field. Rashid had seen most of the men leaving the caves, and now realized where they’d gone. Buzkashi, he explained to Kendall, was a game like polo played on horseback, but using the carcass of a kokpar—a headless goat or calf instead of a ball. The game was very violent and frequently resulted in severe physical injuries. Riders, or chapendaz, were often at the mercy of other player’s whips and boots. The whips, carried in the riders’ teeth, were used to fend off opposing riders and horses. At least a day before the match, the kokpar or carcass is beheaded, disemboweled, with its limbs cut off at the knees. It’s then soaked for twenty-four hours in cold water to toughen it. The preference was to use a calf over a goat, because it was less likely to disintegrate during the game.

  Kendall was once again horrified to learn the details of this seemingly barbaric game. Poya was eager to watch the game, and asked Rashid to come with him. The latter thought it might be the perfect opportunity to blend in while scoping out any tension around the city. They quickly ate the pulao—a rice dish with mutton and vegetables—that Poya also brought back from the market.

  Rashid and Poya set off for the field mid-afternoon. The game was halfway through the first forty-five minute half when they arrived. They decided to walk around the field to a place that had no spectators. That way they were safe from scrutiny and could enjoy the spectacle. Poya had never watched a game of buzkashi before, and thought it was thrilling the way the eight horses galloped by and how quickly the kokpar changed sides. The young boy shrank back when a rider got hit by his adversary’s whip. The crowd whooped and cheered loudly when one side scored in the opponent’s kazan—or goal.

  At the fifteen minute half-time break, they walked around keeping to themselves. They did not notice the man with a pair of binoculars trained on them. They walked a little further out on a small path heading away from the field, so that Poya could relieve himself. All of a sudden, that same man who had been watching them started waving his hands and yelling at them. Rashid heard the loud voice over the din and was startled to see the man running towards them … arms flapping.