by K. D. Lamb
Fields jumped in. “You mean the helicopter. That’s right. They got left behind. That was terrible.”
She cut in anxiously, “Do you know where they are? Are they still alive?”
The CEO exchanged a quick glance with Mickey. “We believe they’re alive, which is a miracle unto itself, since the building we were all standing on was bombed seconds after we left. Based on news reports out of Afghanistan, they’ve been spotted in several places. We’re not sure where they are headed—maybe north or west.” And then his eyes brightened and he grabbed one of her hands. “Maysah, is there anything you might know that would help us find them or know where they’re headed?”
She eagerly nodded. “Yes. I know exactly where Rashid is.”
Paul Fields and his Head of Security looked at each other, stunned at the revelation. At the same time, they both said, “Where?”
She looked around and frowned. “I need a computer, so I can access my email account.”
Mickey quickly left to find an available laptop. Fields’ mind raced at the thought that they just might be able to locate Kendall and Rashid in the very near future. He was anxious to ask more questions, but knew he needed to wait for Mickey to return. As soon as the latter walked through the door with the laptop and necessary accessories, Fields urged Maysah for more information. “How do you know where he is?”
“He has an electronic chip in his lower back. I did it myself for the whole Shazeb family at the order of President Shazeb. He was worried his family would be kidnapped, and was paranoid they wouldn’t be found. So, he had me insert the chips about two years ago. I have Rashid’s coordinates saved in a file on my email account. I used one of those free email accounts that was not affiliated with any of the Afghanistan software or servers.”
“Weren’t you afraid of getting caught by President Shazeb?”
“I was caught by Saaqib during one of his crazy audits. Rashid happened to speak to him first and convinced him this was a good idea to ensure the data would never be lost. He even talked him into using the story that if his father—the president—ever found out, he should say it was his idea for security reasons. That his father would think he was brilliant.” With eyes wide, she looked at Fields and Mickey, “As far as I know, Saaqib never said anything to anyone else.”
The laptop was booted up, and they crowded around the young doctor as she worked her way through the commands … sometimes needing help with the characters or key strokes of the unfamiliar keyboard. Finally, she opened her free email account, and found the folder. There was one email that contained the coordinating numbers and a barcode image after each name. The CEO quickly called his admin and asked her to bring him a barcode reader and a handheld GPS. Both were commonplace these days.
Mickey couldn’t help himself. “I get the paranoia mentality of President Shazeb, and it’s quite the norm in the U.S. now to be chipped at birth. But why would Rashid have been included? He wasn’t one of the members of the family.”
“Because the president had virtually raised him, trusted him, and counted on him to keep the boys—his peers—in line. You just don’t realize how much the boys hated each other and how much the president relied on Rashid. The competition for their father’s love and admiration was huge, especially since the president was so obvious in his preference for the younger son. If it weren’t for the lack of a blood tie, my guess is that Rashid would have been the chosen successor.”
Mickey shook his head and sighed. “I guess I’ll just never understand it.”
After another fifteen minutes and a much-needed coffee break, the laptop was connected to the closest big screen. The peripheral devices were plugged in, and soon they were inputting the coordinates. Just to be on the safe side and away from prying eyes, Mickey rose and closed the blinds at the main window along the interior hallway.
As the image appeared on the big screen, they watched the satellite view come into focus and zero in on a point just outside of Mazar-e-Sharif. Fields, Mickey, and Caitlin let out a whoop of joy. They couldn’t believe it was that easy. Fields was the most technical savvy of the group and took over at the laptop. He continued to refocus the image to bring it closer into view. When he got to a point where the land was visible around the bolded dot, Maysah confirmed the larger dot was Rashid. The smaller dot next to him was another person … most likely Kendall.
Fields took the image a little further out and was able to tell they were near a meadow, with scrub brush and rock faces all around them. He was anxious when he saw lots of dots to the east and west. The fleeing couple seemed to be surrounded by other people. He assumed the people were soldiers. He pointed at the other dots and looked at Maysah for confirmation, saying, “Soldiers?”
She shook her head. “No. The dots are concentrated in bunches and are actually miles away from Rashid. My guess is that these are various nomadic tribes. If you look at their locations, they all seem to be in pasture lands, and are evenly spread out.” He nodded. Then she frowned and pointed to several tiny clusters of dots. “Those are soldiers. You can tell they’re on the move. This group over here is walking single file. See? The dots are all in a line. They must be on a trail.”
It was a little unnerving knowing the duo was surrounded by troops, but the good news was that none were within five miles of them on any side. Fields was frustrated that he didn’t know the landmarks or cities around the area. He turned to the doctor, “Where are they headed?”
“It looks like Mazar-e-Sharif. That’s close to the Uzbekistan border. They must be hoping to cross there.”
Fields was torn. He needed the help of the U.S. government now, but couldn’t tell them how he knew this information. The authorities would surely come and get Maysah as a material witness. He didn’t want to lose her. Not after all the work he and his staff had done. He also didn’t want Mickey and Maysah sitting there when he called his frat buddy, Frank Reynolds, at the NSA. Mickey didn’t know about Prophecy, Frank Reynolds, or Daniel Blumfeld’s involvement.
He sat back as his mind raced to figure out in what direction he should go first, and who should be privy to the information. Finally, he casually asked Maysah if there was anything else he needed to know. She shook her head, and he thanked her profusely for the information. He assured her that he had government contacts and hoped to arrange for a rescue in the next twenty-four hours, thanks to her. The doctor was happy she could assist. Fields nodded at Mickey, and the latter rose and showed the women out. They were given strict instructions that they were to stay close to Caitlin’s cell phone and not venture out of the city for the next couple days. If they were needed, they should come back to the Orion offices at once. Fields knew he might need the doctor to point out various landmarks.
Then he told Mickey that he was going to make a few phone calls, and as soon as he needed his head of security’s help, he would call him. Mickey nodded and returned to his office. Sometimes, especially since his boss’s return, he felt that his superior was holding out on him … almost like he was harboring a secret. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but sensed that he wasn’t being told everything and didn’t have all the facts. He knew the CEO had a wide range of friends, mostly in the upper echelon of society. Mickey figured a senator or two would be contacted with cryptic information on how to locate the missing American citizen and her companion. He just didn’t understand why the need for privacy or the unmistakable feeling that behind-the-scene maneuverings were in the works. In fact, the more he thought about it, he had the distinct feeling it involved something highly illegal. He told himself that he didn’t want to know if his boss was up to something illicit. That at the end of the day, if it brought Kendall back safe and sound, then he certainly wouldn’t ask questions. He patiently waited in his office to be summoned by Fields.
The first person the CEO called was Daniel. The latter was very happy to hear they were able to pinpoint Kendall’s location in Afghanistan. Fields urged him to check and re-check the Orion network to
ensure the Israelis couldn’t stream the new data. This would be very bad for the pair on the run. After he had shored up the Orion system, Daniel was then to specifically watch the Israelis and Afghanistan for any new revelation of sightings and strategic military plans … most likely focused on Mazar-e-Sharif. They rang off, and then the technical wunderkind set about building two more levels of sophisticated electronic shields to block any possible snooping by Israel … or any other entity, for that matter.
After hanging up with Blumfeld, Fields phoned Frank Reynolds at the NSA. It was the end of his day, and he was winding down and about to meet some buddies at the local pub for beer and pizza. He scowled when he saw the caller I.D. display. He was exhausted from the activities of the last couple months, and he really needed some down time to kick back and relax. He was happy that his frat buddy was okay, but all of this sneaking around from his own co-workers and bosses was fraying his nerves. He looked at the flashing phone line again, sighed, and picked up his headset, telling himself that it was only a call for a status report. Since he didn’t have anything new to report and nothing had changed since the last conversation, this call would be quick.
Before Reynolds could even say hello, a stressed and hyper Fields yelled out, “Frank, I know where they are!”
The NSA Agent was instantly energized. “What? How?”
“Never mind how. They’re just outside of Mazar-e-Sharif. Do you think you can pull some strings and have a helicopter and a seal team or two swoop in there and collect the two?”
“I can buy time with an anonymous source angle. But I’ll have to provide more precise information as to their location.” There was no response from Fields, who was madly processing the request and deciding the best course of action. “Paul, you there?”
“Yes. I’ve come in to some knowledge about Rashid. He has a tracking chip implant. You can locate him via GPS.”
“No shit! Awesome! Give me the information, so I can see it for myself.” His dinner plans now long forgotten, Frank used the tricked-out electronic devices in his computer to download the image and coordinates from Fields, who sent the information via scrambled code. Within five minutes, the NSA agent could see the large dot representing Rashid. He was beside himself. “Paul, that’s, that’s so incredible!”
“I know. I’m pretty stoked too! What can you do with it? I mean, I can call some Senators, but that’s several layers from where we need to be. Can you get this to the right people without revealing anything about me or Orion?”
“Now that I have the chip info, damn right I can. In fact, I’d be a fool to mention your name. I’m going to be a hero!”
Fields was a little alarmed but chuckled. “Now, Frank, don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re going to be pumped for information, so be prepared for an explanation that reveals nothing.”
“No problem! I already know how I’m going to handle it.”
The CEO was suspicious. “How?”
“Paul, that’s classified! The U.S. intelligence community is not without its own electronic toys. We’ve come a long way in the last few years. I can actually locate Kendall now, so long as I’m within ten miles of her location.”
“Oh my God, really? Why weren’t you doing that before?”
“Obvious, Paul! I didn’t know the exact area where she was. I’ve seen the map of Mazar-e-Sharif. It’s not that large of a city. It might be the fourth largest city in Afghanistan, but there are less than half a million people. From the look of their current location, they should reach the city tomorrow. The city is known for the religious shrine called the “Blue Mosque.” So, tomorrow morning when I get into the office, it’ll be their evening. They should have found a place to hunker down for the night. I’ll zero in on them then. Let’s just hope nothing happens in the next fifteen hours. Paul, I’m going to call my military contacts right now and at least get some troops in to the old Uzbekistan base.”
“Perfect!”
“Well, not really. It’ll be tricky at best, since the U.S. pulled all its troops out years ago. The political relationship is stable and friendly. But remember they threw us out of the country. I’m hoping the Uzbeks will allow us to use the old base for a one-time military emergency. If we set the ball in motion now, we just might have approval within a day or two.”
“It’s too bad we can’t do what the Israelis did and come in from the Arabian Sea.”
“No way will that work. We’d have to take out the Afghan government computer network which has just come back on line. They’re on high alert. We’d have to go in there with guns blazing. We’d end up blowing things up and shooting people … all for one hostage? I don’t think so, Paul. It’s got to be from the north.”
“Whatever! Make your phone calls. Later!”
They rang off and Fields felt jittery from all the events of the day. He didn’t usually drink during the day, but pulled out his rare bottle of Loch Dhu single malt black Scotch Whiskey. He poured himself a glass and then swung his chair around to savor the distinct aromas and complex flavors while he looked out the window across Lake Union. He was delighted at the spectacle of a forty-foot Bermuda sloop heading away from the west side marina. Fields picked up his binoculars and watched spellbound as the captain furiously worked the rigging to set the mainsail.
The contented CEO could just feel that Kendall would be rescued within days. The anticipation was killing him, but the immense satisfaction that would come from knowing his part in the successful extraction was ten times greater than any business deal he had ever fought over and won.
The cloudy gray summer day did nothing to dampen his spirits.
As North America slept and Afghanistan awoke, there was a sudden imperceptible change in the dynamics of the single-minded pursuit. The bolded dot representing the whereabouts of Rashid Sharif flickered and went dark.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
OUT OF THE CORNER OF her eye, Kendall caught the first glance at a large hairy looking thing on her shoulder. The creature’s two lateral chelicerae were in a chomping motion. She felt a huge scream bubble up to the surface when Rashid calmly flicked it off her shoulder. The twitching thing landed to the side of her, stunned. As she quickly turned her head to look, she about fainted at the sight of the whole body. The bizarre-looking arachnid was over six inches long. Rashid grabbed the closest rock and smashed it on top of the hideous thing. He peered over at Kendall, as she wasn’t making a sound.
“Wha-wha-what was that?” she stuttered.
“A camel spider. It’s really not as bad as it looks. Yeah, the bite will hurt, but it’s not poisonous.”
Her eyes were wide with fear. “That thing is a spider?”
“Uh-huh. It’s actually more like a scorpion. But it’s in the spider family. It can run ten miles an hour. Isn’t that incredible?”
“You’re not helping, Rashid. I’m never going to sleep tonight.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, if there’s another around here, it will eat all the insects and rodents. We’ll be safer. It even eats small birds.”
“Wonderful! I’m glad I don’t have a baby.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. No one’s ever died from a camel spider bite. It just looks particularly scary.”
In fact, she slept soundly that night. Rashid didn’t have the heart to tell her that things could get very hairy for them in the next twenty-four hours. They were either going to find their way out of Afghanistan via Mazar-e-Sharif, or they’d end up dead. His heart was heavy as he worried about the next couple days. At least Kendall would be able to blend right in by using her full-length chador. It would be hot and annoying, and he was sure he would hear about it from an irritated Kendall. But if it kept her safe it was well worth it.
In the morning, they took quick baths in the nearby stream. Rashid figured this would be the last chance to wash up before they fled Afghanistan for good.
They loaded their possessions onto Babar for the last time and trudged off in a northerly dire
ction. Kendall couldn’t understand why she felt so apprehensive and maybe even a little sad. She should be excited that their journey was coming to an end, but for some unknown reason that she could think of, she wasn’t.
They stopped for an hour at midday, and Rashid pointed out a family of caracal a few hundred yards away. The Persian lynx mother and her babies were a beautiful reddish brown color. The two white spots above each eye were very dramatic. But Kendall finally had enough of witnessing the brutality of nature when the mother caracal took off after a fawn and quickly returned with the dead baby in her mouth … legs dangling like small sticks.
Kendall urged them on and didn’t utter a complaint as her heavy garment twisted about her legs. As they approached the outskirts of Mazar-e-Sharif, Rashid took a look through the binoculars. He frowned and muttered to himself.
“Rashid, what’s wrong? Are there soldiers?”
“Yeah, everywhere. We’re going to have to enter through a side route.”
He wasn’t totally familiar with the layout of the city, and hated not being prepared for the awaiting troops. Fortunately, there was a celebration going on. The city held a festive atmosphere, with more people on the street than usual. Suddenly there was a commotion on the east side of the city. There was a particularly heated and physical game of buzkashi going on. It had turned violent, and a fight had broken out between the players and the spectators. The soldiers, always looking for an excuse for physical gamesmanship, saw this as an opportunity to let off a little steam and break a few bones in the process. They would teach these locals how to behave and to respect the law.
This unexpected diversion allowed Rashid and Kendall to slip into the city at dusk from the west side. They walked a few blocks and came upon a crumbling mud-brick structure with seven-foot-high walls and no roof or door. It had obviously been abandoned some time ago, and was in a complete state of disrepair. Rashid ushered Kendall and Babar into the interior of the structure, which was separated into several rooms. As he unloaded their things from Babar, a wizened old man with white-gray hair and a long beard appeared in the doorway. Rashid rapidly engaged him in a discussion in Dari … the most common language spoken in Mazar-e-Sharif. He managed to convince the man that he and his young wife had just arrived from Herat. They had no money and were going to be looking for work the next day.