The Puppetmasters

  Kendall told herself that Rashid would never have liked it. There were too many people and too much frivolity. Life had been so serious to him, and he probably would have hated all the water. Salt water and fresh water everywhere. She felt worse, and realized it was because she was already thinking of him in the past tense. The other important person in her life, her dear mother, had also apparently died while she was away. Yes, people were dying all around her, including the innocent smiling boy, Poya. And the one she thought was the love of her life, Jeremy, who she was prepared to spend the rest of her life with, had turned his back on her in the name of money … and his mother. Just like that, it was all gone.

  She hoped the end would be quick, like Rashid’s. But she resolved to go down fighting. They wouldn’t take her spirit. She said a quick prayer for her mother and Rashid, but dismissed the memory of Jeremy Levy as nothing more than an aberration in her life.

  In the cold morning light, the soldiers actually let her have a bathroom to herself, where she was allowed to take a shower. They provided her with clean women’s attire—robes and head scarf—and said something about dying before Allah and the need to be cleansed in body and spirit. She was grateful for the shower and felt like a new person. They brought her a bit of food, and she could hardly choke it down.

  General Omar arrived mid-morning and came right over to see her. His eyes glinted with cruelty and something she couldn’t identify. But it caused her to back away from him. He made her stand in the middle of the courtyard while he walked around her. Weapons were pointed at her from every angle. She wondered if she would be shot right there in the military compound.

  She’d been standing in the hot sun for an hour with nothing to drink when there began a slow rumbling sound. Everyone looked around and then at General Omar. Thinking they were about to be overrun, he ordered everyone to secure the doors. As the thundering grew louder and the ground began to shake, it was clear this was an earthquake. It was a sizable temblor with the epicenter just outside Mazar-e-Sharif. Because it was shallow, the ground shook more violently than usual. One of the mud-brick walls of the military base gave way.

  Kendall was standing in the most perfect place in the center of the courtyard. The heavy stone walls came down on top of the soldiers. Dust and debris swirled everywhere. Omar, who was very superstitious, was sure that Allah was angry that Kendall was still alive. But right now, he needed his troops to regroup and take stock of the casualties. He knew that the citizens would need his help in rescuing trapped citizens, clearing water lines, and moving the injured to the local hospital.

  He grabbed Kendall and roughly pushed her into the closest cell. The ground continued to shake, and she couldn’t believe she was now going to die in an earthquake. The irony didn’t escape her. As she fell onto the hard ground, she watched curiously as the soldiers ran about. Most of them left the compound and headed out to the Blue Mosque first to see how bad the damage was. Some of the structure was first built around the twelfth century and was destroyed and refurbished many times over the years due to earthquakes, battles, and expansion at the sacred site.

  Suddenly the lights went off. The power grid had been compromised … again. As the ground took its last shake, Kendall could feel the outside wall on which she was leaning, giving way. She quickly scrambled to the interior wall just as the outer wall crumbled down onto the spot where she had been sitting. She couldn’t believe her luck. She was now looking at daylight and people scurrying all around her. There was chaos, shouting, and wailing. No one paid attention to the lone figure in the dark cell.

  She made her way to the park at the Blue Mosque. Hundreds of people had gathered there for safety in the wide-open space yet within the confines of the compound. Kendall could not believe it when the muezzin assigned to call the faithful to the Zuhr—or early afternoon prayer—began their unisoned chant from the four corner minarets of the Shrine of Hazarat Ali or the Blue Mosque. Since they obviously did not have the benefit of audio amplification, they yelled out in their own voices which carried over the carnage below them. The melodious chanting was strained but beautiful over the din of the chaos. Everywhere, people stopped to pray right where they were. It brought tears to Kendall’s eyes, knowing that even with the pain and uncertainty the city’s residents were feeling, they were pausing in their misery to give thanks and praise to their God.

  She huddled in the mass of people and became part of the homeless seeking shelter. General Omar forgot all about her for hours. He managed to receive word that the United Nations and the nearby countries were gearing up to send charter flights bringing supplies and emergency provisions. By early evening, those flights began to land at the badly damaged Mazar-e-Sharif Airport.

  By evening, General Omar remembered Kendall and went back to the Afghan National Army Base. He was sickened at the sight of the crumbled wall and the empty cell. Kendall was nowhere to be found. But he wasn’t too worried, as there was no place for her to go. He figured that once order was restored, she would stand out from the locals. Still, it irritated the hell out of him. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about!

  The relief missions by air and overland by transport trucks came and went all evening long. The trains were no longer running because of the damage to the rails. Border crossing was not as strict, to let supplies in and people traveling to their relatives in the neighboring countries out.

  In the midst of the airport landings, a sturdy-looking C-130 Hercules landed and taxied to a corner of the rough and broken tarmac. Once the rear cargo hold was opened, pallets of supplies were rolled out to the huge opening and lowered to the ground via hydraulic lift. The supplies were loaded onto trucks, and the troops transporting the goods drove into the city to begin distributing the much needed water, food, and blankets.

  When Kendall caught sight of the U.N. armbands and helmets, she made her way to the crowd of people pressing forward for a handout. As soon as she heard English being spoken, she ran up to the female volunteer and pulled on her sleeve. “Hello, Miss. My name is Kendall Radcliffe. I was kidnapped and taken prisoner with Paul Fields and Glenn Carson months ago. They were rescued, and I got left behind. Please help me! I’ve just escaped from the soldiers.”

  The young English-speaking soldier was taken aback. She looked around and saw that no one was watching, and quickly motioned Kendall to climb into the cab of the truck up front and hunker down on the floor boards. The young soldier took off her helmet with the U.N. insignia and handed it to her. Then went right back to distributing water. When the truck was empty of supplies, the driver and young female soldier closed the doors, climbed into the cab, and began to drive away. They had no idea where the young woman went, and thought she might have disappeared into the crowd of people. The female soldier even speculated that she had imagined the whole bizarre encounter.

  They had gotten about half-way back to the airport when their truck was suddenly overtaken by Afghan troops. The angry-looking general who marched up to their truck demanded they open the back door. They exchanged looks and got out to accommodate the general’s wishes. His troops climbed up into the back of the truck, inspected the interior, and then jumped out. The general opened the driver’s door and looked into the cab. There was nothing suspicious there, so he allowed them to drive on.

  As soon as the soldier and her driver reached the C-130, they scanned the surrounding area and then looked behind the seats of the truck. They hadn’t told Kendall to hide there, but somehow she knew to move from the floorboard in the front seat to the small area behind the bench seat. They couldn’t believe she had wedged her body sidewise so as to fit in the narrow pocket of space. While one helped her out of the cab, the other one yanked her head scarf off. She walked between them and up the ramp into the C-130.

  They were on their way within thirty minutes, just biding their time awaiting clearance to take off. There were extra clothes on board, and Kendall swiftly changed out of the Afghan women’s clothes and into jeans and a t-s
hirt, with a baseball cap shoved on her head.

  Finally, they were cleared for takeoff. As they taxied down the runway, Kendall held her breath, and slowly let it out when the plane went airborne. On the short flight to the Uzbekistan base, Kendall explained her situation and how she came to be in Mazar-e-Sharif. The C-130 crew radioed back to base with the news that they had an extra person on the return flight. That became a problem when they landed. The manifest showed ten people outbound, yet they returned with eleven.

  The Uzbek officer at the base was thoroughly irritated. It had been a long and trying day as several nations requested use of their base to assemble and distribute relief supplies into Mazar-e-Sharif. Complicating things was that Kendall had no paperwork with her. The base officer had no idea what to do. He was too busy to deal with this issue. The head of the U.N. mission—who just happened to be an American—quickly sized up the situation and kindly suggested that in the stress and chaos of the flight out, she got overlooked somehow. He offered that she couldn’t possibly have come from Mazar-e-Sharif on her own. She was dressed in western garb and would never have been allowed to look like that there. The Uzbek officer agreed. The U.N. leader apologized profusely for having incorrect numbers and improper documentation, but offered that this is what happens during emergencies. Protocol and organization were the first casualties.

  They all laughed, and the U.N. team was allowed to proceed. Within an hour, Kendall flew out on a helicopter that rendezvoused with a carrier in the Gulf of Oman. When she landed on the American ship, she stepped off onto the carrier’s deck and sank to her knees in sheer relief. She was safe. Her journey was over, and she was going home.

  The commander, who had a couple hours’ warning, had advised Washington, DC by the time she arrived on board the carrier. Because she had no documentation on her, there was a flurry of passport photos and driver’s license pictures sent electronically to and from the ship.

  Frank Reynolds got the news through internal channels at the end of his day. He quickly called Fields. The latter knew that time was running out. He was beginning to despair that they wouldn’t be able to rescue Kendall. His Caller I.D. showed Reynolds’ number. He fumbled to pick up the receiver. He barked into the phone, “It’s about time! What’ve you heard?”

  There was a pause and then Reynolds announced, “She’s safe! She’s on her way home.”

  “Oh thank God. How? What happened?”

  “I don’t have all the details, and I’m not sure how much will be made public. All I can tell you is that she was secreted out of Mazar-e-Sharif during the aftermath of the earthquake that hit today. There was some maneuvering to get her into Uzbekistan. The U.S. doesn’t want to start an international incident, so it’s downplaying the Uzbek’s role.

  Basically it’s going to be chalked up to serendipity and taking advantage of the fog of disaster.”

  “Frank, I can’t thank you enough for your support during all of this. I don’t know about you, but I’m going home to celebrate, as soon as I make a few phone calls. Was there any word on Rashid?”

  “Unfortunately, no. She was alone when she was found, and left Afghanistan alone.”

  “Damn! How sad.”

  “Yeah.”

  Fields hung up and promptly called Daniel and Mickey. He told them he would compose a company-wide email that would be sent sometime the next day, as soon as the U.S. government provided its version of events to the public. Mickey rolled his eyes and chuckled.

  The Orion CEO asked Mickey to take care of readying Kendall’s home for occupancy by airing out the place, adding fresh flowers, restocking the refrigerator, and collecting her mail from her neighbor. He was proud of the company for making sure she had plenty of money in her bank account for the automatic payments made every month. He hoped she wouldn’t mind that after the FBI was through going over her mail, Mickey had opened all of the mail that looked like bills and made sure her accounts were kept current.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  KENDALL HAD BEEN BACK IN Seattle for a month now. Her employer, Orion Premier Net Services, took care of all the details of her homecoming. She was overwhelmed by the kindness and security the company provided. To get the press off her back, Orion’s media firm arranged for a one-time interview with both Paul Fields and Kendall Radcliffe. Glenn Carson’s wife was so traumatized by the event that she talked him into taking a year’s sabbatical. He and his family had taken sanctuary at their secure compound in the San Juan Islands. Everyone doubted he would ever rejoin the company.

  During Kendall’s post-Afghanistan month-long leave while she was settling back into her normal life, she buried her mother and took care of the estate details. She also reacquainted herself with her old friends. But Fields and Mickey felt she should know the truth, and explained in detail the unwarranted suspicions that had been raised about her. She understood why, but was still stunned and saddened that her friends at work had so readily believed the lies and written her off. She was grateful to Daniel for his tireless work, but she didn’t really understand the technical nature of it.

  Her neighbor, Heather Jacobs, had been wonderful and checked on her daily to make sure she was not sinking into depression over all the trauma she had suffered.

  The news reports were more than she could ask for. They painted a picture of a strong and determined young lady who had fought her way out of an untenable situation. They painted her as a hero. Naturally, her old boyfriend, Jeremy Levy, decided this would be good for his and the family’s savings and loan association’s image if they were together. He attempted to repair the split, but quickly found out that wasn’t going to happen. Kendall could barely look at him when he came to her door unexpectedly one afternoon. Too much time had passed since the breakup. She had lived a lifetime since then. She’d moved on emotionally and spiritually. She saw him for exactly the person he was: a charismatic, one-dimensional, weak mama’s boy who would never know the closeness and intimacy of two soul mates.

  She thought of Rashid often. Mainly, how much she missed him, and torturing herself with the what-if scenarios.

  Finally, it was time to go back to work. The State Department was at last leaving her alone. With the help of Orion’s outside legal team, she had submitted to several interviews and answered every possible question. The investigation was coming to an end. There was not much word out of Afghanistan other than that General Omar had appointed himself president, and a new palace was being built for him and his family. While he was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to mete out the punishment to Rashid and Kendall in the way he would’ve liked, there were constantly new recruits to pick on and citizens to discipline. He was happy with his new position and didn’t much care to talk about the last six months.

  Kendall had been back in the office a few days when she received a phone call from Paul Fields. She still winced whenever she heard his name or voice. It would forever be etched into her head and heart as a harrowing time and experience that would follow her the rest of her life. She tentatively picked up the receiver. “Paul, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Kendall, and I’m so glad you are back to work. Nothing like a normal routine to get back into the swing of things.” There was an uncomfortable pause, and then he continued. “Would you please come over to my office for lunch? I’ve decided to start a foundation to help homeless children around the world. I want you to head it.”

  That came as a surprise. She didn’t know what to say. “Wow, that’s a wonderful plan. I’m not sure that I’m qualified to run a foundation, but it certainly sounds interesting.”

  “Good! Then, I’ll see you in my office in an hour.”

  Her spirits lifted at the news. She couldn’t think of a better use for his billions. It would also make her feel good every day, knowing she was helping distressed children all over the world. Somehow, she was going to incorporate the memory of Poya into the new venture.

  She walked into his office with a slight spring in her step. As soon
as Fields spied her, he rose and welcomed her. He gave her a hug and a squeeze of assurance.

  “Kendall, you look wonderful! Are you ready to start something new and fresh?”

  Her eyes shone, “Yes, I am.”

  “Well then, let me introduce you to my new partner in this venture.”

  A door opened from the private chamber adjacent to his office. Her eyebrows rose and her jaw dropped when she saw Rashid, with a huge smile on his face, stride in. At once, she ran to him, and they embraced in a long, clingy hug. He kissed her as tears streamed down both of their faces.

  Kendall hadn’t even noticed that Mickey entered behind Rashid. Giving the couple a few moments to themselves, he ushered everyone else into the executive conference room where a formal, catered, celebration lunch was served. Rashid and Kendall stared at each other and when they joined the others, they sat very close to one another.

  She demanded to know how he’d escaped the blast in the safe house. His tale was disturbing. He explained that the safe house was attached to another a block away by a hand-made six foot high tunnel. When he originally went into the safe house, he wanted to make sure that it was, indeed, safe before he’d let Kendall in. He had no idea there was a tunnel. As the layout was revealed to him, he went into the tunnel to meet the men in the connected house. As he got to the end of the tunnel, the explosion occurred. The tunnel collapsed and filled in. The men in the linked safe house managed to dig him out, but he was terribly injured. It took him days to get up and be able to walk around. He finally got out of Afghanistan in the back of a transport truck into Uzbekistan. By then, the Afghan soldiers had stopped looking for him.