“I heard you.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”
Crispin decided to be bolder than he felt. “Here’s what I can tell you, Joker. Boss is a great guy. Smart and dedicated. A tad religious but never pushy. He knows what he’s doing. He was our sniper and explosives man. The guy’s hand never shakes. It’s spooky.”
“Religious?”
“Yeah, he’s a Christian.”
Nagano turned. “A Bible thumper?”
“I wouldn’t call him that, but I’ve seen him reading the Bible many times. He was the heart of our team. You know, Moyer was the backbone; Harbison was the muscle. J. J. was the heart. His brother is an Army chaplain.”
The conversation died.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Aliki continued, swiveling his head.
“If you’re wondering if his faith keeps him from pulling the trigger when he needs to, I can put your mind to rest. He’s not one of those guys who lives to put bad guys in the crosshairs but he does his job.” He paused. “Without hesitation.”
“How far now?” Nagano asked.
“We’ve gone five miles north. I don’t think she would have run this far. Most likely she and the other chick are hunkered down.”
A voice crackled over the radio. “Move to pattern two.” Crispin recognized J. J.’s voice. “Roger that.”
The message went into the ears of every team member, so Crispin felt no urge to tell Aliki what he already knew. The big man turned the wheel and entered the first alley he saw.
The alleys were narrower than the streets but wide enough for easy passage. Trash cans, Dumpsters, and empty cardboard boxes lined the wall of the empty businesses. Crispin pitied the trash truck driver who had to negotiate the area.
NASIRDIN FOUND RASUL DJAPAROV talking to a small group of men. Rasul was in his twenties, narrow from head to foot, with coal-colored hair atop a sadistic mind. He served in the army but was discharged against his will. Too many of the other soldiers feared him. It was in the army that Nasirdin first made his acquaintance and the man did not frighten him. Of course, Nasirdin never felt fear, even when, as a child, his drunken father beat him with a wood dowel. Emotion, he learned very early, was counterproductive. It was best not to feel fear, or love. Day by day, he learned to strip away those unnecessary things.
Nasirdin slowed his trot as he approached, sizing up the situation. Rasul held a handgun at his side. He smiled as if sharing a joke with the men. Nasirdin made eye contact with his man. Rasul motioned him to come over.
“My friends, this is the comrade I spoke to you about. He is a man of the people. You can trust him.”
Nasirdin noticed Rasul used no names. He nodded at the men, all of whom noticed the machine gun in his hand. Nasirdin grinned. “It is a violent night, my friends. A man must be careful.” They nodded.
“We were just discussing that. These patriots have a strange story to tell. Please, tell us again what happened.”
One man stood on one leg, leaning against one of his cohorts. “We were attacked by men with guns.”
“This night?”
“Yes,” the man said. “One of them attacked me. He beat me for no reason.”
“Tell me of these men. How many?”
“At least ten or twelve.”
That didn’t sound right. “Please, accuracy is very important to me this night. I can tell you are all brave men, solid stock. It is my honor to know you, but I need facts. Did they number ten or twelve?”
“No,” one of the other men said. “I saw only five or six.”
“It must be six,” another said. “There are five of us and they pointed guns at each of our heads. Of course, there was the one that attacked you.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the injured man said. “As you can see, I’ve taken a blow to the head. My math has left me.” He chuckled but it sounded insincere.
“How were the men dressed?”
“Black. Black uniforms and they had masks on their faces. Well, except the one we caught by the car.”
“What car?”
“A few blocks down. There is a car with flat tires and bullet holes sitting in the street. The man without the mask was looking inside.”
Nasirdin exchanged glances with Rasul. “The silver sedan I saw down the road and a few blocks south of here?”
“Yes, it was silver.” The injured man shifted his weight on his one good foot.
Nasirdin studied the hobbled man. “What did he do to you, friend?”
“We were just offering our help when he turned on me. As you can see from my face, he came at me hard. He also broke something in my foot.”
“We should get some medical care for you.” Nasirdin was certain the alcohol he smelled on the man’s breath was all that was keeping him from screaming like a school girl. “But first, tell me about the uniforms. You say they were black. Where they all dressed the same?”
“Yes.”
“Black military uniforms.”
“Oh yes, definitely military. They had vests on and helmets. At least the ones with guns did.”
“But no markings?”
“No markings. Did anyone see markings?”
They shook their heads and said no.
“The guns then, what about them?”
“Military guns,” Injured Man said. “The automatic kind.”
Nasirdin rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Tell me, did they speak?”
“No. Not a word. Well, one growled like a dog.”
“Anglo? Asian? Slovic?”
“We only saw the one man’s face but he was as white as any of us here.”
“I see. May I ask what you were doing when you saw these men?”
A long pause greeted the question. “We were just going out for drinks.”
“You know there are riots going on, correct?”
The man looked away.
Rasul spoke. “I believe they found a liquor store with a broken window. I believe they were making certain no one was stealing an honest storekeeper’s wares.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what we were doing.”
Nasirdin forced the corners of his mouth up. “I believe you. Excuse me for a moment.” He stepped to the other side of the street, changed the channel on his radio, and made a call. A few moments later, he returned.
“Are we in trouble?” one of the men asked.
“No, of course not. You were doing what any good citizen would do, but I must ask one last favor.”
ON THE PROMISE OF payment, the men led Nasirdin and Rasul back to the car. Nasirdin didn’t need guides. He knew exactly where the car was. He needed something else. They moved slower than Nasirdin wanted but the wounded man set the pace.
“There, there it is.”
“Very good. Show me where you were when the men attacked you.” Nasirdin watched as they stepped close to the vehicle. They turned as if they were posing for a picture.
It was then, Nasirdin thumbed off the safety, leveled the weapon, and pulled the trigger. The men didn’t have time to scream. Nasirdin wanted to conserve ammunition so he did a single sweep of the barrel, bullets striking the men in the chest. He looked at Rasul who seemed unconcerned about the massacre. “Make sure they’re dead.”
Rasul stepped forward, his MP-446 handgun in hand, and put a 9mm round in each of their heads, then walked back to Nasirdin as if he had done nothing more than pull a few weeds from a neglected garden.
“Burn the bodies and the car. Make sure they’re unrecognizable. I want it to look like the gas tank exploded. Can you do that?”
“I can. Where are you going?”
“To a pharmacy store.”
AMELIA KEPT JILDIZ MOVING as fast as she could. There had been no time to grab the respi
rator mask she took from the hardware store. A half mile down the road, she saw Jildiz reach for her inhaler. She couldn’t blame the woman. Her own lungs burned from the stench of smoke.
The sound of distant, but not distant enough, gunfire rolled through the polluted air.
CHAPTER 15
SARIEV DOOTKASY LET THE chief administrative assistant announce his presence. The middle-aged, dowdy woman hesitated only a moment. Dootkasy had not called ahead. The phones were out, but the intercom system wasn’t dependent on an outside line. His unexpected appearance surprised her.
“I know President Oskonbaeva is very busy, but I need to see him immediately.”
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, but he is occupied with a meeting right now. The riots have—”
“I am well aware of the riots.” He kept his voice calm when what he wanted to do was slap the toady. “This pertains to that and a . . . personal matter.”
She hesitated a moment then reached for the button on the business phone to activate the intercom. She paused, then retracted the hand. “One moment, Mr. Prime Minister.” She rose and moved to the closed door separating her office from the president’s.
“Mr. President, please excuse the interruption, but the prime minister insists on seeing—”
Dootkasy’s patience snapped and he pushed past the aide and into Meklis’s office, stopping the woman midsentence.
“I need a moment, Mr. President.”
“Sariev, what is the meaning of this?”
Dootkasy loathed Meklis Oskonbaeva all the more for calling him by his first name instead of his title, especially with the others present, Chief of Police Emil Abirov and Boris Gubuz, head of Internal Security. Dootkasy was in the first meeting with these men and a few others; apparently he wasn’t wanted in this one.
“I need a moment, Mr. President.”
“I’m busy right now, Sariev.” He motioned at the others. “As you can see.”
The president and prime minister roles were a point of friction. The president appointed the prime minister, something which made previous prime ministers little more than lapdogs. Dootkasy made a lousy lapdog. The men never liked each other and were political rivals over the past ten years. Dootkasy wasted no energy fooling himself into believing that he was chosen because of his leadership expertise but because of his influence with opposition parties. Meklis pledged an open government bent on healing rifts and ending corruption. He failed on both counts, but to his credit, not for lack of trying.
“Yes, Mr. President, I am aware of that but I have news you need to hear.”
“News? What kind of news?”
“Privacy is required, Mr. President.”
Meklis shook his head. “We have our hands full right now, Sariev. Can’t it wait?”
“Sir, if it could wait, I wouldn’t be here.” He grew weary of the word play. He turned to Gubuz and Abirov. “Gentlemen, may we have the room?”
The vermin looked to Meklis for permission. He nodded, and the men rose.
Dootkasy draped his words in a tone of concern. “Please stay close, gentlemen. The president may have need of you in a moment.”
The men excused themselves and the administrative aide closed the door to the office, leaving the two most powerful men in Kyrgyzstan alone. The office. Twice the size of Dootkasy’s but, in his mind, filled with half the power.
“Sariev, this had better be good.” Meklis did not offer his PM a seat.
“I’m sorry to say there is nothing good about this.”
“News about the riots?”
“In a sense, but more pressing.” Dootkasy pointed at the president’s desktop computer. “May I, sir?”
Meklis narrowed his eyes but rose from his large executive chair, giving Dootkasy access to the device.
“I received this moments ago. It should have come to you first, but I haven’t had time to find out why it didn’t.” He inserted the flash drive into the USB port. “This is the only record of the event I know of although it was broadcast live.” He brought up the video but waited to hit play. “You may want to sit down for this, Mr. President.”
The impact of the statement showed on Meklis’s face. He did as Dootkasy said, lowering himself into the chair.
Dootkasy tapped the return key and the video began to play.
The female reporter.
The sporty red car.
The sudden appearance of a white van.
The abduction attempt.
The silver sedan rescuing Jildiz.
The gunfire. The wayward bullet fired by a man with a machine gun.
The blood and brains spatter of the reporter hitting the camera lens.
Meklis crossed himself, something Dootkasy couldn’t recall the man doing before.
The video ended and Dootkasy removed the video from the computer monitor. He left the flash drive in the computer for the moment.
“Look at me, Mr. President.”
Meklis didn’t move. Time for a more personal approach. “Meklis, my friend, look at me.”
The president raised his head. His skin was pale, his eyes wet, his body resembled a rag doll. “How . . . I mean . . . is she . . . dead?”
“No, sir. At least I don’t think so. I’ve been able to determine that your daughter and whoever helped her get away, I don’t know if . . .” He pretended to falter. “This is difficult. I don’t know if there are injuries. May I ask when you last heard from her?”
“Early afternoon. She was meeting with someone. We had tea before she left.”
“Forgive me for asking, but I am trying to help. With whom did she meet?”
“The woman from the United States. The military foreign affairs officer. Lennon. Amelia Lennon.”
Dootkasy spoke softly. “This may be important, Mr. President. Who asked for the meeting?”
“I don’t know. Why would that be important?”
“Sir, I will admit to being a little more suspicious than most. It is my Russian background. I am my father’s son and he had difficulty trusting anyone.” He drew a breath as if the next words took work to expel. “I wonder if the Americans are behind this.”
“The Americans? Certainly not. They need us.”
“But they are on the verge of losing rights to the Manas Airport. With the resurgence of al Qaeda in Afghanistan, they need the base all the more. Although they have been drawing down troops in Afghanistan and Iraq, they are still mired in their wars. With Iran feeding arms to Iraqi dissidents, hostilities are sure to break out again and you did say you were leaning toward revoking the Americans’ lease.”
“That’s . . . um . . . that’s why Jildiz was meeting with the American. They have developed a friendship and she wanted to personally tell her of my inclinations. She felt she owed the woman a face-to-face talk. Something without lawyers and diplomats.”
None of this was news to Dootkasy but he needed to keep up the appearance. “The driver who came to her rescue, could that be the American negotiator?”
Meklis shook his head. “I don’t know. All I saw was the car. I couldn’t make out the driver.”
“I understand, but I had to ask.” Dootkasy raised a finger to his chin.
“We have to find her. I need Emil and Boris in here.” He stood.
“Just a minute, Mr. President.”
“We don’t have minutes, Sariev. My little girl is in danger.”
“I understand, and I want you to know I have people working on it. Right now. I set things in motion the moment I received this.”
“You? I should be the one—”
“No, Mr. President, you shouldn’t.” He put a hand on Meklis’s shoulder, gently pushing him back to the chair. “Listen to me for a moment, then you can do as you see fit.”
“Make it
fast.”
“There are many questions. This looks planned to me. Somehow, someone knew the road your daughter would be taking.” Easy enough with the right spies and lookouts. “Why do that? What do they have to gain? Why do this in the middle of riots?”
“Do you have answers?”
“Not yet, Mr. President. If she has been abducted, then someone will contact you. Maybe for a ransom. Who knows? Perhaps to force you to make a political concession. Maybe for some other reason. There are a dozen groups who hate your administration—” A mistake. “I should say, the administration. I don’t need to tell you how common this is in our history. I can tell by your surprise at this video that no one has contacted you.”
“True.”
“If they have her, they will. If they don’t, then she’s somewhere on the streets, alone.”
“Not alone. Someone came to her aid.”
“Perhaps, Mr. President. Assuming the Good Samaritan isn’t part of the plan—a diversion to buy time.”
“I see.”
“There is more.” He started to speak, pretending to search for just the right words. “Mr. President, I am normally a man good with words, but I’m not sure how to phrase this. May I speak plainly for a moment?”
“Yes.”
“You are now compromised and compromised at the worst time.” Dootkasy moved to a chair, sat, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If you allocate police to find your daughter—which is my first inclination—you will be seen as putting her needs above the other citizens endangered by the violence in the streets. The same is true if you send soldiers to search for her. If we lose this building again, as we nearly did in 2010, then you will be blamed for valuing your daughter over country.”
“What father wouldn’t?”
“Not every father is the leader of a country in crisis.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I would not suggest this under any other circumstance, Mr. President. I have not had time to think this through, so I make this statement only as a suggestion to consider. When I leave, I will send in Gubuz and Abirov. Consult with them. Call in the leader of your party and discuss this with him if you wish. There may be details I’m overlooking.”
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