by K. D. Lamb
“Hello? Are you still there? Is that technologically impossible without being traced back to the source? What’s the problem, Daniel?”
“I, uh, I just don’t want to put the company in jeopardy. If it was traced back to an Orion act, that would be disastrous.”
“To say the least. So, how do we do it?”
“I need to use a computer and a network that is not linked to me or Orion. In fact, it would need to involve cloned computers and proxy servers.”
“Can you do it?”
“Yes, but it will take some time and should be done from outside the U.S.”
“Fine. Leave tonight for somewhere like Mexico or eastern Canada.”
“I was thinking Toronto would be perfect. I’ll find some seedy motel that has a wireless network and doesn’t require credit cards.”
“Daniel, I can’t caution you enough about the importance of not getting caught or leaving any type of trail back to Orion.”
“I understand and will double check everything.”
“Leave your traceable cell phone and company laptop home.”
“Absolutely. I know just where to find a working laptop that has been wiped clean.”
“Good. Just make sure you use cash for the purchase.”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Good luck, and only call me if there’s an emergency.”
“Will do. Bye.”
Daniel hung up the phone and sat back, realizing that the decision had been made for him. He was committed and would now set out to destroy the Israeli military communication network.
In Afghanistan, General Omar had received the news that his captain leading troops in the search at Band-e-Amir Lakes had driven over a landmine. He was furious at the stupidity of a high-ranking officer, particularly one he had personally trained. He sent a helicopter to retrieve the body and bring his replacement. He urged the new leader to use the military’s new drones and reminded him to report back on any discoveries.
The new officer, Captain Qadi, was young and anxious to please. He could already taste the blood, and he hoped to be the one to capture and kill the scoundrels on the run. He knew a little bit about Rashid, as they had worked together on a few projects. He’d never cared for Rashid, finding him to be calm, reasonable, assured, and therefore weak. The young captain respected and admired fear and tough talk, followed by brutal action. His swagger was noticeable, and he assured General Omar that he would have the quarry by the end of two days. The latter chuckled at the bravado and waited with bated breath for the sheer entertainment value of the soon-to-be bloodbath. He figured the captain would either be true to his word or die trying.
Four hours later, as the sun was beginning to set, the military helicopter dropped down onto the rugged terrain north of the Band-e-Amir Lakes. The ground had been carefully swept and cleared of all landmines. Captain Jabar’s remains were loaded onto the helicopter, and supplies were dropped off for the weary men. They had been on the road for over a week now and had been patrolling the main roads and highways around Kabul, Bamiyan, and now the Band-e-Amir Lakes. Their jobs were about to get tougher: Captain Qadi was informed the fleeing duo had now gone off road; they looked to have made a run for it into the mountains to the north.
Qadi instructed the troops to create a camp right there near the jeep carcass. In the morning, he would survey the scene and decide on their course. He sent two troops in a vehicle to the front of the National Park to relieve the ones currently posted.
Behind Qadi’s back, the men grumbled at having to sleep on the hard rocky ground and eat foreign-purchased military rations. At least this time they had the Soviet MREs or meals-ready-to-eat, that included biscuits, meat preserves, and dried fruits. They were not particularly fond of the eggplant caviar. All of last week, the troops ate Chinese MREs, which, in their eyes, was barely edible with the compressed food, pickled mustard tuber, and red bean mooncake. The most distasteful part of the latter MREs was that water could be added to the dried compressed biscuit to form porridge for the morning meal.
They were all anxious to catch Rashid and Kendall, and were beginning to project their anger toward them just for the inconvenience of the past week. Yes, they would make those two pay.
In the morning, the very stiff men awoke to a sudden but light sandstorm. They seemed to be in the eye of the storm as it raged about them. They quickly covered their vehicles from the offending abrasive elements and sat out the storm.
Captain Qadi was beside himself with fury, knowing the ground around the jeep remnants would be altered. It hadn’t even occurred to him yet that any trail left by the pair on the run would also be obliterated.
Finally, in the early afternoon, the dust storm abated, and the entire troop walked the short distance to the twisted jeep. Qadi slowly surveyed the scene, took out his picture of the jeep, and pronounced it to be Rashid’s vehicle … the one that had carried the American prisoners away from the palace more than a week before.
As he looked for signs of personal items, he noticed the jeep had basically been picked clean of its contents. Even the tire iron and loose tools one always carried with them seemed to have been removed. The soldiers had not reported finding any effects, and therefore nothing had been blown away by the storm. That meant the duo had not simply walked into the mountains. He surmised they had either stolen or purchased some kind of animal—a horse, donkey, or maybe even a camel. The animal was used to carry their supplies. The semi-intelligent captain realized it couldn’t be a donkey. His troops had seen the possessions at the campsite of the lady sitting by the fire. They reported a pile of belongings, including tools, cooking utensils, fishing gear, and clothing. A donkey would not have sufficed.
As he explained this to his men, one of the soldiers offered that a camel caravan had been spotted in the distance to the west, just past where they left the Band-e-Amir Lakes. The captain’s gut told him that was key. Somehow the fleeing pair had acquired a camel for transporting their things. He ordered the troops to follow him to the caravan. The men carefully drove in single file to the camel train, pointing out various unexploded landmines as they drove past the offending ordnance at a safe distance.
When they arrived, they could see the caravan was packed up and ready to head out. The captain had good instincts and knew who to approach when the truth needed to come out. He was familiar with these Kuchi nomads. There was no love lost between the Afghan military and these independent tribes. He surveyed the scene and realized that he and his men were outnumbered. That meant he needed to be tough and brutal in order to quickly command their fear and cooperation.
The Kuchi men tried to ignore the troops and continued tying down their loads. The women hid their faces and moved away from the soldiers as they walked about. Qadi approached a young boy, dropped to his knees, and patted the youngster on the head. He then grabbed his arm in a firm way and asked him if any camels had been sold in the past two days. The young boy had no experience with soldiers, yet knew there was something scary about them. He saw the reaction of the men of his tribe. The boy was frozen with fear and just wanted the armed men to go away. He solemnly looked into the stern soldier’s eyes, nodded and pointed to an elderly man down the line. The captain stood up, and as soon as he turned his eyes toward the elderly man, the boy scampered away.
As the troops approached the elderly man, he shuffled away toward the kneeling camels onto which he was loading supplies. Qadi yelled for him to stop. All eyes turned to the scene, as this was one of the elders of the tribe. The other men of the tribe approached as if providing backup. They were all armed and ready to defend their honor if need be. The elderly man was treated with the utmost respect by his clan, and they were afraid at the tenor of the captain’s voice.
With slow, purposeful steps, Captain Qadi approached the old man and asked if any camels had been sold or traded recently. The elder’s eyes gleamed with pride and honor … and hatred for this military leader. He shook his head and indicated in the nega
tive. Without warning, the young captain whipped out his sidearm and shot the elder between the eyes.
No one moved, not the tribesmen nor the soldiers. The captain re-holstered his gun on his hip and walked a ways out so that he could see and address the entire tribe.
Speaking Dari, he yelled, “I want to know now where the two people went who bought a camel.” He paused, turning to look right and left, and then continued emphatically, “… or I will start killing one man after another until I get an answer!”
Another elder stepped up to the captain. “Two people did not buy a camel, Sir.”
Qadi swung his head toward the elder. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
“A young man traveling alone bought a camel for a quarter million Afghani.”
The captain thought quickly and realized the camel must have been purchased while the woman was left by the fire. Rashid had probably already smashed the jeep by then. He stared hard at the elder, who held his ground.
“Which way did the man go?” Qadi realized that was a stupid question. Of course, Rashid went back to the campsite to load his things.
The military officer spied the same young boy peering around his mother’s robes. He strode over and pulled the boy away from his mother. She was terrified and looked to the captain for mercy. He smiled at the boy and again knelt down. “Well, my little soldier, did you see the man and his camel after he went away?”
The boy slowly nodded and somberly pointed north toward the mountain range. He was rewarded with a pat on the head and given a piece of the hard candy lur from the captain’s pocket. The young boy did not want the candy, having just seen his beloved great grandfather killed, but he didn’t dare refuse it. He took it out of fear and ran back to his mother, hiding his face in her robes.
The captain wished them a safe journey, and the troops retraced their path to the route heading into the back side of the Band-e-Amir Lakes. The soldiers reorganized when Qadi ordered half of them to pack their gear and head into the mountains to follow Rashid and Kendall. He figured they had at least two hours of daylight before they needed to make camp for the night.
There were just enough troops remaining for each man to drive a vehicle back to the Band-e-Amir tourist area, where they were fortunate to spend the night at the hotel and eat a decent meal at the chaikhana.
Captain Qadi made a call to General Omar’s headquarters and was pleased when the general praised him for such quick work in locating Rashid’s jeep and figuring out the direction and mode of transport. If the young officer kept this up, he would be receiving another promotion in no time.
Omar was in a great mood, and thought for the first time that it just might be possible that Rashid and Kendall would be dead by nightfall the next day. He had a celebratory drink … or two … and staggered to his newly renovated and enlarged opulent bedroom at the military base. It would take time to rebuild the palace, which was currently still undergoing razing and bulldozing to remove the offending charred ruins of the building.
It was morning, and Daniel Blumfeld sat in his room at an out-of-the-way bed-and-breakfast guest house on the outskirts of Toronto. It had been a long trip from SeaTac Airport to Toronto on this one-way ticket. He used the one false passport and driver’s license he had reserved for emergency purposes. Carrying thousands of Canadian and U.S. dollars, he paid cash for everything.
He made a deal with a used-car lot in a Toronto suburb to rent a broken-down but generally reliable car for several days. The amount he paid for the automobile was more than the car was worth. But the agreement was that the proprietor of the used car lot wouldn’t ask questions and accepted cash. As the owner figured, if the mysterious guy never came back, he would file a stolen-car report and collect on the insurance.
Blumfeld made sure to throw in plenty of Canadian gestures and phrases complete with a smattering of French. On the long journey east, he memorized Canadian phrases and speech patterns, like “bunny hug” for “hoodies,” “whitener” for “non-dairy creamer,” referring to America as “The States,” “canteen” for a “small cafeteria,” “tea towel” for a “dish towel,” “shinny” for “hockey,” “vico” for “chocolate milk,” a “mickey” for a thirteen-ounce size, “loonie” for a Canadian dollar coin, and “toonie” for a two-dollar coin. The latter terms had come in handy, and he was using them constantly. Drinking vico was his new favorite, and he was always looking for the nearest canteen. He tried not to stand out, though, and simply blended in with his environment, speaking only when necessary.
He located a seedy-looking shop that sold used but working laptops and purchased several with cash, making sure they came with the correct network cables and multiple built-in ports. He assembled everything he needed and set up his operation in his room, planning to complete his mission and depart within twenty-four hours.
Daniel ate, slept a few hours, and then returned to his passion of tinkering with computers. He loved the thought that they could be invisible and untraceable. For the first time in his life he was at the top of the heap. He alone was working on this important project. He was the master and the boss on this assignment. He worked carefully and diligently as he built his anonymous barriers to impede any attempt to trace the source. False paths were established to send any Israeli technical investigator on a wild-goose chase. The account information was imaginative and in no way connected with Orion or himself. He refrained from using any cleverly hidden messages that contained cryptic clues that might lead back to him. This was serious business, and he could not afford any mistakes.
Finally, midway through the following day, his mission was complete. He checked and rechecked his steps. The moment had come. He activated the sequential key strokes and waited for the confirmation. Success! Daniel was pleased.
He packed up his things, being careful to wipe the hard drives and remove them for physical destruction. The laptops and accessories were dropped into a nearby Goodwill bin and wiped down of any trace evidence. The car was returned to the dealer a day early. The tired and noticeably boozed-up proprietor remembered nothing about him and merely accepted the keys and waved him off. He took a train from Toronto to Niagara Falls, where he transferred to a bus bound for Rochester International Airport. He flew from Rochester to DC and arrived back in Seattle.
Daniel spent the night at a hotel in Seattle. He planned to meet with the Orion CEO in the morning. Fields had made sure that Daniel’s hotel reservation in Seattle began a day earlier. Mickey checked in for him, providing a copy of Daniel’s driver’s license and credit card with the explanation that he was stuck in an executive meeting and would want to go straight to his room later. The hotel was used to the quirky demands of these high-tech company visitors and business associates. If contacted, the hotel would never remember the check-in sequence of events. It was all very ordinary and low key.
The exhausted traveler lay back on his bed overlooking Puget Sound to the west. The lights of the superferry MV Puyallup twinkled as it glided into the Seattle port. Daniel was exhausted and exhilarated. He ordered dinner and turned on the television to hear a breaking news report off the international wires.
CHAPTER FORTY
RASHID AND KENDALL HAD BEEN slowly climbing northward and camping for two days now. The journey had been relatively smooth, with enough to eat along the way and plenty of fresh spring water for them and their camel. It was midday, and they came out of a sub-alpine grove of poplar trees onto a steppe, or prairie of grassland dotted here and there with shrubs. They could see grazing sheep in the distance and a nomadic tribe of valley inhabitants encamped off to the side.
Kendall could sense Rashid’s hesitation. “What’s the problem, Rashid? Do we need to avoid these people?”
He shielded his eyes from the sun and frowned. “That’s not the problem. We’ve been keeping close to the tree line, using whatever we could as cover. But if we venture out into the open land here, we no longer have any protection or cover. If we go down there, we are basicall
y joining the tribe. We have to blend in when we’re around them. They’ll provide us with the perfect cover. Also we can travel further on a route that’s more passable and direct if we stay out in the open.”
He turned to his right and pointed to the barren peak of the closest mountain. “We either walk over several mountain peaks or opt for the somewhat open valleys. The mountains are easily traveled, but don’t have a lot of trees, plus we’d run into wildlife.”
Her eyes widened, “Such as …?”
He laughed at her concern. “Oh the usual—a Siberian ibex or markhor, which is a wild goat. There are some brown and black bears and grey wolves.” He refrained from mentioning the spotted snow leopard that lived in the higher peaks in the summer. If he told Kendall those secretive carnivores actually stalked their prey, she’d probably never have a moment’s peace the rest of the way to Mazar-e-Sharif, not that she was having a lot of restful nights as it was. But he also knew it preyed on livestock when the food up high was not plentiful. Therefore, he reasoned, that damn killing machine could get them either way.
“Are you worried about helicopters spotting us out here in the open?”
“Exactly. We have yet to see one, but that just means Omar is two steps behind us. By now, if they stumbled on the jeep, they’ll know which way we’re heading.” He surveyed the sky in all directions. “I’m just about positive that we’ll see a helicopter or two today. Otherwise, the general really is an idiot.”
Kendall was immediately alarmed. “Wow! We either get eaten by wildlife or beheaded by Afghan troops. What a choice.”