CHAPTER 13
NASIRDIN TANAYEV WAS FURIOUS, as much with himself as with anyone. Things should have gone smoothly, easily. They didn’t at all because of that woman. Who was she? Why did she have to get involved?
Nasirdin walked another deserted alley, straining to see in the dim light provided by the occasional streetlight. Darkness helped conceal his movements but it also concealed those of his prey. He had other men working the streets but the search was difficult. The stores in the area were closed, unpopulated. The women could be anywhere. His biggest fear was they made it to another vehicle, stole it, or were picked up by some person wanting to help two women in distress. If that was the case, looking for them was a waste of time.
He had another problem. The woman driver killed two of his men. That was bad, but worse was this: one was his brother. At some point, the police would retrieve the bodies and identify them. Then they would look for family. They would come to him and questions would flow like water.
Of course, he could plead ignorance and say he stayed home to avoid the riots. His brother must have been killed by some crazy rioter driving to or from the riots. That would have worked. No doubt several would die in the riots. They did before. Yes, that would have worked had it not been for that reporter. Of all places to choose to report from, why did she have to choose that street at that time. He knew part of the answer, that’s where some of the action was and reporters weren’t reporters if they didn’t have something to show. Bad luck. All along the way. Bad luck.
His brother lay dead because of that interfering woman, and Nasirdin had to leave his body in the street. He would find her. He would make her pay. He was the leader of one of Bishkek’s largest criminal elements; he had a reputation to protect. She would pay painfully and slowly. He would see to that.
Nasirdin knew his time was running out. He transferred the Zastava M92 to his left hand, giving him a few moments to exercise his right.
“Where are you?”
He rounded a corner and saw a bit of graffiti. He took several steps past it then stopped. He had seen one like it a short distance back: a circle with an X in it and a number 2 written to one side. There were other marks that made no sense to him.
Could it be?
AS THEY NEARED AMELIA Lennon’s disabled car, J. J. split the two-vehicle convoy, bringing Aliki’s team in from the east and his men in from the west. J. J. would never say it aloud, but he was getting jumpy. They passed several large mobs of protesters. They seemed to be spreading through the city. In a few cases, they saw looting. What he didn’t see were local police. Most likely they were pulled back to protect the government building. He didn’t know if he should be grateful for that or not. Both vehicles stopped five meters from the vehicle. Down the side streets, J. J. caught a glimpse of a crowd.
“Stay put, gentlemen. I’m going for a little walk.”
“I’ll go with you, Boss.” Jose reached for the door handle.
“Nope. You stay here. I don’t need the company.”
“But, Boss.”
“Think about it, Doc. A bunch of guys all dressed in black standing around a shot-up sedan might get noticed. Let’s stay invisible as long as we can.” He radioed Aliki and passed the order on. The moment Aliki acknowledged the order, J. J. removed his gear and body armor, leaving behind his weapon and sidearm. His goal was to look as much like a curious pedestrian as he could.
“Keep an eye on me, Doc.”
“Count on it, Boss.”
J. J. shuffled past Pete in the back of the truck and exited the back doors.
The air outside was worse than inside the closed environment of the panel truck. The night seemed warmer than it should and it smelled of burning destruction. J. J. sauntered to the silver sedan, seeing bullet holes in the truck and a busted window. The front of the car had several punctures and two of the tires were flat. It was a wonder she got it this far.
He peeked through the shattered driver’s side window. The dim streetlights let him see enough but not as much as he would like. He saw a spot on the seat and several on the steering wheel. He touched them. Damp.
Blood. Not much.
He looked at the ground searching for a blood trail, but didn’t find one. Light injury. A deep or more vicious wound would have bled more and would have been impossible to not leave a trail if she were on the run, which she surely must have been.
“Chto ty delaesh.” The voice was large and sounded lubricated with liquor.
J. J. turned to see five men in their late twenties or early thirties standing nearby. He should have heard them. Why hadn’t he? Because they didn’t want to be heard. He glanced to the side and saw an open door to a nearby business. The door looked as if someone kicked it in. Just his luck, he walked by a store being looted.
A thick, well-muscled man said something else. It sounded Russian and J. J. could only recognize a word that sounded similar to “automobile.”
J. J. shrugged and smiled. He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t know Russian or Kyrgyz. The man didn’t seem to enjoy the smile. He stepped forward and drove a fist to J. J.’s jaw, knocking him back a step. The car kept him from falling. The evening darkness dimmed two more shades. The other men laughed. It was easy to be brave when it was five-to-one. J. J. spit out a glob of blood, which landed on the attacker’s shoe. There was some satisfaction in that.
The man uttered angry words which J. J. took to be some kind of cursing. The powerfully built man pulled a fist back and let it fly, but this time J. J. saw it coming. He moved a half-step to the side, raised an arm to block the punch. Then delivered a punch of his own to the man’s midsection which felt unexpectedly soft.
As the attacker doubled over from the blow, J. J. grabbed the back of the man’s collar and drove him face-first into the car. The vehicle rocked from the impact. J. J. pulled back and up, kicking the man in the tendon just above the heel. The sudden motion and pain sent him to the pavement.
J. J. spun to face the others. Two of them had knives drawn but they were frozen in place, rooted to the ground by automatic weapons pressed to the backs of their skulls. Each soldier wore a black balaclava face mask/hood, black helmet, and wraparound goggles.
The sound of two knifes hitting the ground filled the air.
No one spoke. The barrels of the automatic weapons were placed with enough force to knock the men’s heads forward.
J. J. made eye contact with Aliki and nodded to the man on the pavement. He lowered his weapon but Jose took his place one second later. Aliki towered over the man for a moment, letting his size speak for him. The man whimpered. Aliki shot a hand down and seized the man’s shirt, lifting him to his feet. The man hobbled on one leg. Aliki pushed his face close to the attacker. J. J. thought he heard Aliki growl. The Samoan pushed the man back and he fell into his friend’s arms. He pointed down the street. The gang got the idea. Whatever booty they had planned to take from the store they left behind, the leader hanging on to two of his pals so he could remain upright.
“You know what guys, you look kinda scary.”
“That’s the point, Boss. You okay?” Doc started forward but J. J. waved him off. “My wife hits harder.” He moved his jaw and it sent flashes of pain into his head. “Thanks, guys.”
Aliki shrugged. “Eh, we were in the neighborhood.”
“Hey, Boss, did you see this?” Nagano was pointing at the hood.
“Not yet, Weps. I was kinda interrupted.” J. J. moved to the front of the car.
Nagano pulled a small flashlight from his vest and shone it on the hood. “I know this.”
“It’s a SERE technique,” Aliki said. “She’s leaving us a message.”
“Agreed. I read that there are two people on the move and this is the arrow that indicates the direction.”
“It points behind the building, Boss.�
�� Pete had joined them. “I remember the maps showing a bunch of alleys in this section of town.
“There’s another one here on the glass,” Crispin said.
“Okay, our girl is playing according to her training. Now let’s do our jobs. Let’s see if we can get the vehicles through the alleys. If not, then we go in on foot. Mount up.”
AMELIA WAITED TEN METERS from the front of the pharmacy for a full fifteen minutes. Was she followed? Was Machine Gun Mike—as she began to think of him—nearby? Or one of his men? She didn’t want to lead them to Jildiz so she waited, listened, and scanned the street. She considered going to the alley behind the building, but that would require Jildiz to move boxes to clear the way for her entry. She wanted Jildiz to expend as little energy as possible. The woman might need the strength later.
Hearing only distant noises, sirens, and shouts, Amelia made for the storefront. She reached the door and finding it securely locked gave her a sense of relief. Peering inside, she saw little more than darkness. Another good thing. She tapped on the glass, first with two knocks, then five, then three. A shadow moved through the store, with slow determined steps. Amelia wanted the door opened now, but she also wanted Jildiz to be careful.
She tried to calm her breathing and slow her heart, but they did not obey. Calm would not come. Adrenaline ruled the day. The urge to shout, “It’s me, Jildiz,” was almost impossible to resist. She bit her lip.
A head peeked around one of the long counters near the entrance. Amelia could barely make out Jildiz’s features. The woman’s head swiveled and Amelia assumed she was scanning the street. Good girl.
Jildiz moved to the door and twisted the handle on the dead bolt. She still carried the box cutter with the blade extended.
Amelia poured into the room like water. Jildiz had the door closed before Amelia made three steps. Amelia moved to the pharmacist’s desk at the back of the store and collapsed on the floor near the chair she set up for Jildiz.
“Amelia? Amelia! Are you hurt? What happened?”
Amelia rolled on her back and raised a hand. The hand shook, something that embarrassed her even though it was merely the result of the strain she had just endured. She gulped air like a fish on land. “I need a sec. Just . . . I took the long way home.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Tell me you’re all right, and give me a moment to regain my composure.”
“I’m fine. Everything here is fine. I’m worried about you. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”
“I’m here. I won’t leave you alone, Jildiz. We girls have to stick together.”
Jildiz took her hand and gave it squeeze. Her grip felt good, strong. She was recovering. A few moment’s later, Amelia sat up and took several deep breaths.
“Something happened, didn’t it?”
“I got into a little tussle. No big thing.”
“Not with the machine gun man?”
“No. I didn’t see him or any of his cronies. Just some men trying to take advantage of a simple, innocent girl like me.”
“You were attacked?”
“Initially. I returned the favor. All that matters is I got away and back here. I’m okay. Really. They didn’t harm me in any way.”
“But they meant to. Did you achieve what you set out to do?”
Amelia nodded. “I hope it works.” She told Jildiz what she did. “Of course, I’m assuming the base will send someone after me. They may not. The politics with your country has grown very complicated.”
“Complicated. Yes, that is a good word for it. Won’t other people follow your markings?”
“They’re designed to be misleading. It’s like a code. You have to have the key.”
“Now what?”
“Now we stay alert. I’ve been thinking about stealing a car and driving you to your White House but my guess is we would have trouble getting through the protesters. Worse, if we get too close to the White House, the security might take us out. I’d hate to see us killed by the good guys.”
“I’d hate to see us killed by anyone.”
Amelia smiled. “Humor under pressure. A good sign.” She crossed her legs. Jildiz did the same. “I still think getting a car is a good thing. We could drive south, out of the city to one of the villages until we can make contact with your father. He must be missing you by now.”
“Mother will be worried.”
“Yeah, that’s what mothers do. Do you know anyone in this part of town?”
“No. I don’t have many friends. It’s one of the problems of being the daughter of the president, especially in this country. Most of my friends and extended family are in Osh. That’s a long way from here.”
“And if I remember my Kyrgyzstan history, a place just as volatile as Bishkek. I wouldn’t doubt they have some protests going on there.”
“If we leave the area and your people send a team for you, won’t we be running from help?”
“Yes, but that’s how it works, Jildiz. Survive first, evade next, resist when possible, escape if captured. If things settle down, then we might be able to wait here. Perhaps the owners will open up again.”
“Not if the protests continue. In 2010, the rebellion closed many businesses.”
“Okay, for the moment then, we rest.”
The sound of falling teacups came from the back door.
CHAPTER 14
“I’LL SAY ONE THING for the guy, he can take a punch.” Aliki turned his vehicle north beginning a spiral search pattern for their missing FAO.
“You got that right, Joker.” Nagano moved to the front seat. “A shot like that would have floored Binky here.”
Crispin rolled his eyes. He sat near the opening between the driver/passenger area and the cargo area of the van. The vehicle rocked and swayed, and he was glad he didn’t suffer from motion sickness. “Binky? Really? Binky?”
Crispin hated being the new guy. Technically, he wasn’t the new guy on the team any longer. When he first heard about incoming replacements he felt a moment of exhilaration. Someone else would be the target of the verbal pokes and jabs. Then he learned that both men outranked and had more years of experience. Technically, Aliki outranked J. J. When all was said and done, Crispin, while longer on the team, was still the runt of the litter. That meant he would be the target of choice for a long time.
Nagano turned. “What? Binky is a fine name. Goes back to the days of kings in England.”
“You’re lying to me, aren’t you, Weps?”
“Aye, laddie.” The faux Irish accent coming from an Asian face made the situation more surreal. Nagano cranked his head around and continued searching the streets and back alleys. “See, Joker, the kid ain’t half as dumb as everyone says.”
“What?” The big man leaned a little closer to Nagano and tilted his head.
“I said, you drive beautifully.”
“I do everything beautifully.” The assistant team leader addressed Crispin: “Tell me about Boss, kid. I ain’t had time to get to know him. Is he a good leader?”
“Yes. I’ve been on one major mission with him and a few outings.”
Aliki looked at Nagano, to which Mike replied, “He said yes, but not as good as you.”
“Suck up.”
The van rattled, the engine hummed, but Crispin was sure he spoke loud enough to be heard. After all, Nagano heard him. An unsettled thought percolated in Crispin.
They slowed as they reached another intersection, and turned east. J. J.’s team would make the opposite turn the next street up. Together they would create a grid search pattern. J. J. made it clear it was unlikely they would see Amelia and the president’s daughter. The FAO was too smart and too well trained for that. Perhaps if they were in Humvees instead of an old van and panel truck, things would be different. At le
ast they would be recognizable. Being recognizable would not be a good thing in this situation. While not as experienced as the others on the team, Crispin was an experienced soldier and one of the brightest—even if that was his own assessment.
The problem as he saw it was this: People who didn’t want to be seen were searching for people who didn’t want to be seen. To make things worse, all they had to go on were cryptic symbols left on the hood of a car. That’s what they were searching for now: more symbols. All they had to do was find symbols written in black marker and do it at night.
That last fact is what prompted J. J. to stay on the main streets first. Streetlights made the search for markings a degree or two easier.
“So you’ve seen Boss in battle?” Aliki spoke loudly, keeping his gaze scanning the road and buildings to his left. Nagano’s eyes traced the buildings to the right. With no windows in the cargo department, Crispin could only stare out the windshield.
“Yes.”
“He any good?”
Crispin didn’t like the questions, especially on mission. “He proved himself to me, although that wasn’t the issue. I was busy proving myself to our team leader.”
“Eric Moyer?”
“That’s right. A good man. A better soldier.”
Aliki nodded. “I’ve heard of him. Got a good rep. Who was the second?”
Crispin had a feeling the man was testing him; that he already knew the answers. “Rich Harbison. Big bruiser like you.”
“What happened to him?”
“Lost an eye on the last mission. Very nearly lost his life. Same for Moyer. Things fell to J. J. after that.”
“What mission was that?”
“The last one we did. You’ll have to talk to Boss if you want more details. Are you testing me?”
Aliki tipped his head.
Crispin raised his voice. “I said, are you testing me?”
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