by David Hosp
‘He was,’ Ainsworth agreed. ‘When he died, you were the closest thing I had to a son left. It’s just the two of us now. You understand that, don’t you?’
‘I think so, Lawrence.’
‘Good,’ Ainsworth said. He seemed to be staring past Saunders. ‘Now more than ever this country needs people who understand.’
‘It’s been too long,’ Cianna said to Akhtar. They were crouched at the edge of the woods that crept up the slope from the drive leading to the mountain house. Toney was standing nearby, his three men spread out at the edge of the tree-line to increase the chances that one of them might catch a glimpse of something happening inside. They had seen and heard nothing, though, since Saunders had entered.
‘Do you think he is in trouble?’ Akhtar asked.
‘Maybe,’ Cianna said. ‘You never know what Ainsworth may do if he really has turned.’
‘We don’t know what either of them will do,’ Toney said quietly.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Cianna demanded.
‘It means exactly what I said,’ Toney replied. ‘The two of them have worked together for decades. They’ve been in contact with each other throughout the past three days. We have no way of knowing whether they’ve been on the same page the entire time.’
‘Bullshit,’ Cianna said.
‘Yes,’ Akhtar said to Toney. ‘I agree. What you say is bullshit.’
‘How can you say that?’ Toney demanded of Akhtar. ‘You know nothing of this man.’
‘I know what I saw of him. That is enough.’
Toney shook his head. ‘What’s taking so long, then?’
‘Perhaps Mr Ainsworth has not been welcoming.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Or, perhaps Mr Saunders was not correct. Perhaps Fasil and his men were with Mr Ainsworth all along.’
Cianna took a step toward the house. ‘I’m going in,’ she said.
‘How?’ Toney demanded.
‘Through the front door,’ she said. ‘I’ll shoot my way through, if necessary.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Toney said, moving toward her and holding out a hand to restrain her. She grabbed him by the thumb and twisted the hand around so that he was forced to bend over to keep the thumb from breaking. He grunted in pain.
‘You’ll never make it across the open field,’ he said, still bent over and puffing against the pain in his hand. ‘Now let me go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if you don’t, I’m going to have you shot.’ One of his men pointed his gun at her. She let go of his hand, and he stood up, rubbing his thumb and wrist. He looked at her with a combination of anger and respect. ‘I read your file,’ he said.
‘Good for you,’ she said.
‘Interesting material.’
‘Fiction usually is.’
‘I’m not talking about the incident that put you away,’ he said. ‘I’m talking about your training record.’
She scowled at him. ‘What about it?’
‘You were chosen for one of the toughest units in the military, and received some of the most extensive combat training there is. Weapons, anti-terrorism, self-defense, all under brutal mountain conditions in the heat and cold of Afghanistan. No women had been given the training you had before. There was a debate among the heads of the military as to whether or not it was wise. Some believed women weren’t suited to what they were asking you to do. Many still believe it.’
‘I did everything they asked of me,’ Cianna said. ‘I was just as good as most of the men in the training.’
‘No,’ Toney said. ‘Not according to your training reports.’
She looked at him with contempt. It took a significant amount of self-control not to put him on the ground with one swing. She knew she could, but she also knew that it wouldn’t help Saunders. She decided to ignore the baiting and turned back to the house, looking for the best approach.
‘According to your training reports, you weren’t just as good as most of the men,’ he continued. ‘You were better.’
She shot him another hostile look, unsure whether he was still trying to goad her. ‘What are you saying?’ she demanded.
‘It was never brought up at your court martial. They figured it wouldn’t look very good. But it’s true. According to your fitness reports, you were among the three best trainees in the unit.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I want you to understand that I have nothing against you. Personally, I think you got screwed. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am in charge here, and you will do exactly as I say. I’ve had enough of people who think they can freelance US security policy. Do you understand that?’
She stared at him for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ she said finally. ‘I understand that.’ She looked back at the house. There still had not been any noise or movement that they could see since Saunders had gone in. ‘So, what do we do now?’ she asked impatiently.
Toney looked at the house. ‘Now, we see how much of your training stuck.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
‘Where is the Cloak, Lawrence?’
‘I’ve taken care of it. It’s safe.’
‘Who did you give it to?’
Ainsworth looked out the window. ‘They say once they have eaten human flesh, there’s no choice but to hunt them down and kill them. It gets into their blood, and they will keep coming back for more. Again and again. There’s no way to stop them but to kill them.’
‘Who?’ Jack asked. ‘Kill who, Lawrence?’
Ainsworth looked at Saunders as though the younger man was crazy. ‘Bears, of course.’ He frowned. ‘Maneaters. They will forever pose a lethal danger to all people, and they must be put down. For everyone’s safety.’
Saunders frowned. ‘Who did you give the Cloak to, Lawrence? Where is it? I need to know.’
‘People aren’t so different from bears in that respect, I suppose,’ Ainsworth continued, ignoring the question. ‘Once they get the taste for human blood, there is no way to get it out of their system. So often we search for the reasons for the wars that we have, but in reality there doesn’t need to be a reason beyond the war itself. For those who have a taste for blood, they can use any excuse.’ He looked up at Saunders. ‘You know that better than anyone, no doubt. You’ve been out in the field. You’ve seen it with your own eyes.’
Saunders nodded. ‘I have.’ He breathed slowly. ‘Is that why you’re doing what you’re doing?’
Ainsworth looked sharply at him. ‘What am I doing?’
‘You’re working with Fasil, aren’t you? Is it because you’ve got a taste for blood? Or is it all about money?’
‘It’s neither of those, I assure you, Jack. You know me better than that.’
‘Why, then? Why would you do this?’
‘Because I’m tired, Jack.’
‘You’re tired?’
‘Yes, I’m tired. I’m tired of seeing this country’s commitment to its ideals flutter like a flag in the breeze. I’ve seen it too many times. I saw it as a young man in Vietnam and Laos and Cambodia. From the 1950s the Agency worked to keep those nations free from the scourge of Communism. We had the plan and the people in place to get the job done, but those on the home front didn’t have the will. Three million people died when we pulled out. Three million people who had trusted us. I saw it again in Somalia, and in Bosnia. I watched as they ordered us to stand at the Iraqi border in the first Gulf War. And we stayed there and listened on the radio to the screams of those who had opposed Saddam Hussein from within. Countless good men and women who had risked their lives to help us, and we sacrificed them – giving away an intelligence network we had spent decades building.’
‘I was there.’
‘I know you were. You and Sam, and thousands of others with the commitment to do a job that needed to be done. And we left it for another time. Even after we went back in, even after the Towers fell, we refused to stay the course. We refused to do what needed to be done. We went in with hal
f-measures, and fucked the place up for years, and then we declared victory, turned tail and left. Now we try to pretend that the Iranians won’t run the place within a matter of a few years.’
‘What does that have to do with all this?’ Saunders demanded.
‘Because it’s happening again, this time in Afghanistan. We’ve already declared a 30 per cent reduction in forces by the end of this year. The plans are to have all combat forces out of the country within two years from that. What is needed is an all-out war on our part, and instead we’re going to walk out of there and leave it to crumble.’ Ainsworth took a deep breath. ‘I won’t let that happen, Jack. Not in the land where Sam gave his life. Not when there is something I can do about it.’ Just then, a faint noise came from somewhere near the back of the house. Both men turned in that direction. It could just have been the ancient house settling, but it occurred to Saunders that he might be able to use it to his advantage.
‘How can you do something about it?’ Saunders asked thoughtfully. ‘You won’t even be able to get off this mountain.’
‘No?’ Ainsworth walked over to the front door and peered out. ‘You came with others,’ he said. ‘I thought you might. Who is out there?’
‘Toney,’ Saunders responded. ‘And he has others with him.’
‘The biggest asshole of them all,’ Ainsworth muttered. ‘Good for you. Still, they won’t be able to make it to the house. There’s too much open ground, and the alarms will alert us. They’ll test it, but they’ll stay away. He’s an asshole, but he’s not stupid.’
‘You’re still trapped,’ Saunders pointed out.
‘Am I?’ Ainsworth asked. He smiled. ‘You might be surprised.’
Cianna was moving on quickly but with care. Hand over hand, she shimmied her way along the steep slope on the other side of the road, moving her way around the side of the mountain toward the house at the edge of the cliff. It was difficult going, but the creases on the granite were pronounced enough that it wasn’t impossible. Judging from her speed, she figured she was more than halfway to the house. Looking ahead, she could see that the slope became steep from here. That would add some challenge. She was more concerned, though, that she was running out of time.
She dug her boot into a crag and pushed herself on, remembering the training she’d had in the chalky mountains of Afghanistan. It all came back to her with little effort. If she could make it to the back side of the house, she could avoid the security systems and get close enough to see what was happening without alerting those within to her presence. That was the plan, at least. Whether it would work was another matter. She wouldn’t let herself become distracted with doubts, though. That was another thing that her training had taught her: focus on the immediate task at hand, and trust your instincts to pull you through the challenges that lay ahead.
She put her head down and kept moving along the mountainside.
‘Even if everything you say is true, I still don’t understand,’ Saunders said. ‘Why work with Fasil? He is the enemy. How does that advance any of the ideals you claim to stand for?’
‘It seems to make little sense, I know,’ Ainsworth said.
‘He is the sworn enemy of the United States. He makes no attempt to hide that.’
‘He is,’ Ainsworth admitted. ‘But he is the means to an end.’
‘What end?’
‘He will bring the Taliban back in power,’ Ainsworth said.
Saunders shook his head. ‘It’s insane. You want the Cloak to give Fasil the legitimacy he needs to lead the country back to Taliban rule?’
‘Not just that,’ Ainsworth said. ‘Not only will Fasil have the Cloak, but he will be able to say that he has saved it from the Americans. He will be a hero.’
‘And America will be reviled.’
‘It will be. These people riot when Danish newspapers print cartoons of Mohammed. Can you imagine how the Afghan faithful will react in the area when it is revealed that Americans have defiled one of the three most sacred relics in all of Islam?’
‘Even those few who support us now will turn against us.’
‘Exactly. It will drive the populace, including those who still cling to our protection, away from any association with us. It will result in an unexpurgated war against the US forces in the country.’
‘How will that help us?’
‘Don’t you see?’ Ainsworth prodded. ‘We will have no option but to declare a complete war in Afghanistan. Finally, the gloves will come off. America needs to be pushed to realize that we need to fight for real in Afghanistan. If the population turns against the troops, we will give up the notion that we can win a war and still win the people’s hearts and minds. For all its faults, the US population will not stand for attacks on its military. If this happens now, when we still have the combat muscle committed over there, it will give us the best chance to succeed.’
‘And if Pakistan gets involved?’ Saunders demanded. ‘What happens then? They have nukes, and if there is a feeling that the US has dishonored Mohammed in this way, you never know what could happen. Even if they couldn’t reach the US, they could attack Israel.’
‘It is a risk, but a small one – and an acceptable one. We have intelligence that maps Pakistan’s nuclear weapons. If they fire one, we will respond with fifty.’
‘And what of the people who are killed?’
‘The losses in Israel would be tragic, but in the long run, the Israelis will be better off if the other countries in the region understand that we are committed to their defense. The losses in Afghanistan and Pakistan are necessary. They are our enemies, and if they could, they would bring down every highrise in America. We’ve known that for a long time; we just didn’t know what to do about it. I realized I could fix this when I learned of Captain Stillwell’s ring of thieves. It has been operating for some time, quite profitably. Profitably enough that our industrious captain had managed to buy off all the brass he thought he needed. I made it clear to him that if he didn’t cooperate with me, I would bring them all down. He was fairly easy to convince when I explained it to him, and his people have developed an expertise in thievery that proved quite useful. It would have been simple were it not for a dim-witted corporal named Charles Phelan. The Cloak was to be shipped to Kabul and make its way to Fasil through intermediaries. I can’t tell you the consternation that was caused when it did not arrive. Once that happened, word seeped out slowly and the race to find Mr Phelan was on. When you came to me with the tip from your informant in Virginia, I saw that you could be very useful.’
‘You used me. Like an asset.’
‘No,’ Ainsworth insisted. ‘Like a professional. I knew no one was better than you, and that if I had you on our side, we would surely get to the Cloak before anyone else. I would have told you the whole plan, but I couldn’t risk it at that point. I knew it would be far easier if you thought Fasil was the enemy.’
‘He is the enemy!’
‘Ultimately, yes,’ Ainsworth agreed. ‘But not in this. In this, he is an asset like any other.’
‘Just an asset,’ Saunders said quietly.
Ainsworth nodded. ‘Just an asset.’
Saunders looked at his boss, the man he had repeatedly trusted with his life, with fresh horror. ‘You must stop this, Lawrence. You know that, don’t you? Otherwise you will be betraying every principle you’ve ever held dear.’
Ainsworth shook his head. ‘No! That’s not true! I am standing up for everything I’ve fought for my entire life! I’m standing up for Murphy and Desouza and Keller and Schmidt and Jeffs and Klein, and the rest of them! Just like you did up in those mountains. You of all people must understand!’ As he shouted, he spilled his drink, and his gun was raised, waving about.
‘That was different,’ Saunders said.
‘No it wasn’t!’ Ainsworth yelled. ‘It was the same. Just on a smaller scale. But the principle was the same. If nothing is done, we will pull out of Afghanistan, and everything we as a nation have fought for o
ver the last decade will be lost. The country will eventually be run by the Taliban one way or the other, but if it happens five years from now, there will be nothing we can do about it.’
‘No, you’re wrong.’
Ainsworth had stopped waving his arms now. He stood very still, looking at Saunders with new distrust. ‘How can you say that?’ he demanded. ‘You must be with me on this, you must.’
Saunders shook his head. ‘I’m not.’
Ainsworth seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he pointed the gun at Saunders’s head. ‘I really think you should reconsider, Jack. It would be best for both of us.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
The last fifty yards were the worst of it. Behind the house the slope was at its steepest, the rock wall its most sheer, bereft of vegetation. The only handholds and footholds were clefts in the surface, often only inches deep. The fall was over a hundred feet to a brief shelf twenty feet wide, with a few shrubs and grasses. From there, it was another two hundred feet before the slope leveled off.
Cianna dug her fingers in and moved along the mountain face, pulling herself along until she could see the deck from the back of the house hanging over the edge above her. Slowly, carefully, she made her way up. Twice the holds to which she clung pulled free, small portions of the mountain plunging to the plateau below, almost taking her with them. She cursed as she struggled to stabilize herself.
It took several minutes before she reached the top of the cliff and hauled herself up there, panting as she caught her breath. After a moment she got to her feet and crept along the foundation underneath the deck that hung out over the cliff, looking for a way in.
The foundation was stonework built into the mountain granite. At times she had trouble distinguishing that which had been put there by man, and that which was a part of the land itself. On one side, though, she found a narrow wooden window sealed into the rockwork. Spider webs covered the outside, thick as cotton candy, and she had to push them away, angering the arachnids, which scurried for cover.
She thought back to Saunders’s description of the security system: the windows and door on the first floor were wired into the alarm. It seemed less likely, though, that the small window in the foundation would be alarmed, as well. It was so narrow it wasn’t clear that she would be able to get her small frame through it, and the paint made it look as though the window hadn’t been opened in decades. It was a risk, but an acceptable one. She worked her fingers around the edges to see whether the ancient wood had been sealed in such a way as to allow an alarm wire to function. It looked as though the wood there was far older than any of the other doors and windows she had seen from the drive. As she dug her fingers along the sides, she could tell that it had weakened enough over time that it might come loose with reasonable effort. She pushed and pulled, trying to get her fingers far enough into the gap to gain leverage. It took a few minutes, each of which seemed an eternity, but eventually the wood gave enough that her fingers could get behind it. With one final pull, the piece of wood came free, and she was able to prize the narrow opening further apart.