by Cliff Ryder
Ajza didn't notice that she'd turned to protect the baby she held from a stray bullet. The man, meanwhile, tumbled down the hill and became tangled in the dog's leash. He fought for a moment, then regained his feet. Immediately, though more cautiously, he took off after the lights bouncing through the night-blackened scrub.
"She went that way! By the boulders!" Outside, Maaret stood pointing. A man stood beside her with one of his big hands around her upper arm. With her free hand, Maaret tried to pull her thin clothing close, but the wind insisted on plucking it from her.
"What's going on?" Ajza asked.
The woman at the window didn't answer for a moment, then she said, "Zamira got foolish tonight."
Zamira was the other woman in the building. Ajza doubted she'd even seen seventeen yet. Her husband had died only months after their wedding. She was young and pretty, and Taburova's men used her harshly.
"She could take no more rough handling," the woman said. "Tonight, after the men brought her back, she tried to escape."
"The men caught her?"
"No." The woman shook her head. "It was Maaret who discovered her sneaking out of the building like a thief. Zamira would not listen to Maaret. Maaret told her she would call for the men." The woman shrugged. "I guess Zamira did not believe Maaret would do such a thing. But Maaret did. And now Zamira will pay for her foolishness. Or perhaps she no longer cares."
One of the men swung his light and yelled to the others. The white beam illuminated the young woman in the darkness as she tried to take cover behind a tree. Helplessness twisted her features. Plucked from hiding, Zamira turned and ran through the brush.
Ajza watched and her stomach roiled, because she knew the young woman had no chance.
The man nearest Zamira unleashed his dog. The animal took off, racing across the night-black mountainside with feral surefootedness. Too quickly, the dog reached Zamira, then leaped up and caught her forearm. Holding on viciously, the beast pulled the young woman to the ground. Her screams ripped through the night and echoed across the mountain as she fought the growling dog.
Then the screams stopped and she lay still, even though the dog continued to savage her.
Two men dragged Zamira's body back up the mountain and threw it into the middle of the camp like a side of beef. Ripped and broken, covered in blood, the dead woman looked like something from a butcher's shop.
The men drove all the women out of the buildings to view the body. The cold wind and their fear caused the women to shiver as they stood in huddled groups. A few of them bore bruises from earlier that same night.
Maaret remained held by the big man. Her gaze caught Ajza's for a moment, then she looked away. Tears glittered on her cheeks. Ajza wondered if Maaret's tears were for the dead woman or for herself.
Saleh strode over to Zamira's corpse and kicked her. Then he spat on her and cursed her parentage and stupidity. Finished, he turned his attention back to the women.
"You are Chechen women," he snarled. "You have lost your husbands and your families. You are worthless in the eyes of God until you redeem yourselves. We are offering you a chance to redeem yourselves and find a better life after this one." He looked back at the corpse. "This woman will find no peace after her death. She will know only torment and fear. Do you want to be like her?" His gaze challenged the women.
Most of them answered negatively, their voices hushed and fearful.
"You stand there and look accusingly at Maaret because she warned us of this one's attempt at escape," Saleh said. "Some of you will condemn her — the foolish among you. But Maaret saved lives tonight. If this cow had escaped, one of your children would have died."
The mothers all pulled their children close. Whispered prayers rode the wind through the huddled women. Ajza felt the fear in them like an electric current.
"Do not hurt Maaret," Saleh said. "If you do, you will pay for doing so. She is strong enough to do God's work even when you are not."
Ajza knew that his words would only make things worse for the young woman. The baby shifted a little in Ajza's arms. She pulled the blanket more tightly around him.
"Get back to sleep," Saleh commanded. "Pray to God to give you honorable deaths." He gestured to two of the men, then at the corpse. "Find a hole to dump this in."
The man holding Maaret released her. She walked to Ajza immediately. "Give me my child."
"Of course." Ajza passed the baby over. Even in that brief contact, she felt the heat coming off Maaret and knew the fever had not broken.
Without another word, Maaret turned and walked back toward the building where they lived. She walked carefully, as if she didn't trust her balance.
Ajza felt torn. She despised Maaret for what she had done. The young woman was as guilty of causing Zamira's death as the men and the dog. Yet Ajza understood why she had acted as she had.
"You cannot trust that one," a woman whispered to Ajza.
Ajza turned her face into the wind and studied the other woman. She was one of the few in camp who was older than she was. A jagged scar split her left eyebrow.
"Even if you get on her good side, you cannot trust that one," the woman said. "She has bad luck, and that baby is cursed. Better it should die."
The harsh tone made Ajza angry. She couldn't imagine anyone willingly hurting a child, but she knew they existed.
"He's just a baby," Ajza said.
"He is made from bad luck. His father betrayed Taburova, and Taburova killed him. Exploded him in Moscow. It was supposed to be Maaret who died when she was pregnant with her traitorous husband's child. Instead, her husband foolishly tried to rescue her. When he died, Taburova brought Maaret back and let her birth her child. She has been his puppet since that time."
A chill that wasn't due to the cold ghosted through Ajza. "Her husband was blown up?"
"Yes." The woman nodded.
"When?"
"December. Only a month before the baby was born."
For a moment Ajza thought she might be sick. Ilyas had died in December, blown up by a bomb. Only lately she'd discovered that he'd died in Moscow and that he'd been tracking Taburova. It couldn't be a coincidence.
Ajza hadn't seen her brother for a year before his death. Their parents thought he was working at a new job and couldn't get away. Ajza had known Ilyas was undercover somewhere.
A wave of sickness passed over her again as she remembered her brother's blond hair and blue eyes. Now that she thought of it, in his baby pictures, he'd looked a lot like Maaret's child.
Without a word, Ajza walked back toward the building.
"Remember what I said," the woman called after her. "She is bad luck, that one. Bad luck."
Ilyas has a son. The realization kept cycling through Ajza's mind. Ilyas has a son.
I have a nephew.
49
Unable to stop herself, Ajza went to Maaret's private space and lifted the sheet. She knew the woman was still awake because a tallow candle burned on the other side of the sheet.
Maaret cupped her free hand over the candle to absorb the heat. She was shivering. In the near-darkness with the candle's glow on her, she looked paler than ever. She held the baby in her other arm, letting him nurse at her breast.
"What do you want?" Maaret demanded suspiciously. She wiped tears from her face.
"Only to make certain that you're well," Ajza replied.
"I am fine."
"You're sick." Ajza stepped into the area and let the sheet fall behind her. The room was cold and drafty.
"I will be fine."
"What if you give your sickness to your son?" What if you give your sickness to Ilyas's son? Ajza thought, and that possibility filled her with dread. Looking at the baby now, she believed she could see her brother in him. She didn't know how she had missed it before.
"What do you care?"
"I don't wish to see any harm come to the baby."
Maaret pulled her son closer to her, sat up and put her back against the wall. W
hen she spoke, her voice was a whisper. "And me? Do you wish me dead like the others will after tonight?"
The candlelight illuminated the silver of her tears.
"No." Ajza squatted so that she was on a level with the woman. "No, I don't wish any harm to you, Maaret."
Maaret wept silently for a moment, then wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "The others hate me."
Ajza knew she couldn't lie to the woman. "Some of them. Not all."
Pain tore at Maaret's face. "The ones with children, they will understand. They will be glad they were not the ones to have to do this awful thing," Maaret croaked. "They will talk badly of me to the others. But in their hearts they will know that they would do the same thing. To save their children, they would do what I have done."
Ajza didn't speak.
"Poor Zamira." Maaret doubled over in pain. "She was so young. And to die like that? With a dog tearing the life from her?" She shook her head. "I never wanted that for her."
"I know."
Maaret wiped at her face. "I tried to die. I did. In December, before my baby was born, I tried to die. Taburova picked me to go into Moscow. I wore explosives. I was willing to die. Especially after I found out what my husband had done."
Ajza steeled herself to show no emotion. It was the most difficult thinsg she'd ever done. "What did your husband do?"
"He betrayed Taburova." Maaret gulped air. "He spied on Taburova. For the British. A few days before Taburova selected me to go into Moscow, Ilyas escaped."
Pain clawed at Ajza, tearing her heart apart. Tears blurred her eyes, but Maaret was so overcome with her own distress that she didn't notice. Ajza sipped air and pushed the emotion and confusion away. Images of her brother tumbled through her mind. She hoped she could always remember them all.
"If he escaped," Ajza whispered through her tight throat, hoping that Maaret only thought she was trying to be quiet, "how did he die?"
"He came back for me. For me and the baby. He found out that Taburova sent me into Moscow." Maaret shook her head. "I do not know how he found me that night, but he did."
Tracking device, Ajza thought. He was keeping watch over you. My brother would never have left you and his baby.
"He begged me to come away with him," Maaret went on. "I could not."
"Why?"
Maaret stared at her. "Because I am Chechen. Because I want my people to be free."
"Ilyas wanted you to be free."
"No." Maaret shook her head vehemently. "No. He was a traitor to my people. He was a traitor to our faith. He came to us, to Taburova, and won us over with his stories." Her lips stretched in silent pain for a time before she could speak again. "Taburova believed in him. I believed in him. I fell in love with him and married him." She put a hand to her head. "My God. I do not know how I could have done such a thing after I was sold to Taburova. I thought I was dead. I should have been dead."
"How did Ilyas die?"
"He took the explosives from me. I should not have let him, but I was feeling the baby kicking. I knew it was almost time for him to be born. He was so close to living." Maaret's face knotted in agony again. "I should not have been weak."
"Ilyas took the explosives," Ajza said in a quavering voice. "That was his decision."
"I know, but I should not have let him."
"You would not have been able to stop him." Ajza remembered how stubborn her brother could be. "It was his choice. Did he set off the explosives?"
"It was Taburova. He was watching. I did not think he was, but he was there. When Ilyas tried to get rid of the explosives, Taburova set them off."
"Taburova killed Ilyas."
Maaret nodded. "He told me…he told me that he knew Ilyas would be there. He said it was the only way to kill the traitor to our people."
The baby stirred restlessly and whimpered.
Maaret adjusted his blanket and held him close. "I came home the night after Ilyas died. I wished I had been the one to die. Then I went into labor. I prayed for God to take me then, because women who die in childbirth go to heaven no matter what sins they have committed. But I did not die. And my son was born." She traced his round face with her fingers. "Then I saw him and held him and smelled him, and I knew I would do whatever was in my power to take care of him."
"And you have," Ajza said.
Lifting her gaze, Maaret said, "That is why Taburova lets me live. As long as I have my son and I can protect him, Taburova knows I will do anything he says."
For a while Ajza sat there in the silence. She thought about Ilyas and the predicament his widow and son were in. And there was nothing she could do to get them out of it.
"I'm sorry," Ajza whispered a short time later.
But Maaret was asleep, her head lolling against the wall. Ajza eased the young woman down, realizing that they were sisters-in-law, and discovered Maaret was still burning up with fever.
She left the space long enough to get a bowl of water and a piece of cloth to use as a compress. Then she sat on the bed and gently laid Maaret's head in her lap. She bathed her head, praying that the fever would break and the woman would recover.
50
"Wake up!"
Someone kicked Ajza's foot. Pain shot up her leg and brought her to instant wakefulness. She started to roll away and rise in a defensive crouch, but Maaret's weight stopped her.
One of Taburova's men stood before her. He'd torn the curtain away and it pooled at his feet. He held a pistol. Behind him, another man was yelling at the women on the opposite side of the room.
"Get up," the guard ordered. "We have things to do today."
Ajza wanted to tell the man that Maaret was sick, that she needed to rest. Before she could, the woman on the other side of the room complained of being sick. The second guard kicked her and demanded that she get up.
The woman made an effort to stand, but only succeeded in vomiting on the guard's boots. Angrily the man reached down and jerked her to her feet. The woman stood for a moment, then swayed. Her knees buckled and she hit the floor.
Callously the guard aimed his pistol at her and pulled the trigger. The detonation woke Maaret's baby and made him cry. His frightened cries woke Maaret when the guard's rough voice had not. She reached for her child and pulled him close.
"This one was useless," the second guard said of the woman he'd killed.
The first guard nodded and turned back to Ajza and Maaret. "Get up." This time he pointed the pistol at them.
Ajza stood and helped Maaret to her feet. Fortunately the young woman's flesh felt much cooler. Her fever had broken.
"Is something wrong with her?" the guard demanded.
"She'll be fine," Ajza said. "She was up late last night, and the baby makes her tired."
"If she can't make it to Moscow," the guard threatened, "she will be shot where she falls."
The fragile hope that Ajza had nurtured all through the night vanished in a breath. She could only worry about what to do with her brother's widow and infant son.
She had no answers and time was up.
* * *
Ajza carried the baby down the mountainside. She was tired and worn-out from the past few days, and she took every step with care. The baby wasn't all that heavy, but he was still a burden.
Maaret was too weak to carry her son. At times, Ajza had to help the younger woman, as well. She feared that one of the guards would decide Maaret was moving too slowly and shoot her.
They went in single file. Taburova rode his pony down the mountainside without a problem, but several of the women slipped and fell. When they did, the men would beat them until they got to their feet again.
Just before they reached the flat ground, a convoy of old trucks rattled into view. The vehicles stopped at the foot of the mountain and waited.
When the women reached the trucks, the guards lined them up. Taburova rode his horse in front of them, sizing them up with his relentless gaze.
"The time has come," Taburova declare
d as he reined in his mount. "Tonight you will lay down your lives for Chechnya."
Ajza stared at the man and remembered how heroic he'd appeared that night on the mountainside when he'd killed Achmed. Now she knew that he was exactly what the files she'd read had told her he was: a cold-blooded murderer. It didn't matter that he wrapped a flag around his bloody work. Taburova lived to kill people.
Ajza stared at the trucks, wondering if the weapons she'd come looking for were stored in them. No. The weapons wouldn't be so easy to get to.
"Get on the trucks," Taburova ordered.
His men started shoving the women toward the trucks.
Ajza strode forward with the child still in her arms. Maaret held on to her elbow for support and stumbled along beside her. They climbed into a truck, and Ajza took a seat on the floor in the rear, her mind raced. There had to be a way out.
* * *
New York
Kate watched the mass exodus from the Black Widow camp then the convoy trundling along the dirt road, with alarm. According to the map she had access to, the nearest paved road was twenty miles away.
"They're not out for a Sunday drive," Jake commented.
"No, they're not. Do you think it's possible they've been tipped off that they're being watched?"
"Sure. But a guy like Taburova, do you think he'd try to sneak off in broad daylight?"
"No." Kate backed up the video recording until she saw Taburova talking to the women. Even from the view from the satellite, she recognized the man at once. "He'd kill everyone in the camp and disappear into the night."
"That's what I was thinking." Jake scratched his jaw. "That makes this a business trip."
Kate pulled up Sergei ProkhoroVs field reports. He and Viktor had managed to keep General Kumarin under surveillance. So far the general hadn't deviated from his routine duties. Room 59's intel unit was spot on with those.
"Taburova is hours away from Moscow at the rate he's traveling," Jake said. "There's time."
"Maybe," Kate replied, "but it feels like we're running out of it."
"We'll be ready. Unless there's a wrinkle we haven't spotted."