Shadow Conflict

by Shadow Conflict (epub)

  Lauren immediately went to work. With the spoon in her right hand, she grasped the rounded head with her left and began to quickly bend it backwards and forward. The spoon looked fairly new, but it was made of soft steel like any other. After a few seconds, the steel began to give way at the narrow neck, until it separated altogether, leaving her with a narrow piece of steel ending in a ragged point.

  * * *

  In the kitchen, Alex leaned over the sink, Lauren’s words swimming around inside his head.

  The logical part of his mind knew that to betray someone like Anya was tantamount to suicide, and to trust his life to someone like Cain was little better. He couldn’t make a friend of his enemies, and he didn’t dare make an enemy of his friends.

  Maybe there was no right decision in this whole mess. Maybe all roads ultimately led to death and failure for them. But he knew one thing – he’d rather stand with Anya than against her. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he believed in her.

  He glanced over at the worktop, seeing the automatic handgun still lying where he’d left it, looking absurdly out of place in such domesticated surroundings.

  ‘Shit,’ he mumbled, picking up the weapon and stowing it in one of the drawers. He felt better with it out of the way. This done, he started the cold tap running and held the glass under it.

  * * *

  Lauren’s friendship with her roommate Morgan had been born more out of necessity rather than shared interests. Still, Morgan had proven herself surprisingly practical, and one little trick she’d shared was how to release cable ties – a skill that had proven useful when they’d had to dismantle a six-foot sculpture held together with the damn things.

  The tie around Lauren’s left wrist was secured with a simple ratchet.

  Finding the mechanism, Lauren jammed the broken end of the spoon into the small gap and pushed it upwards, forcing the tongue away from the plastic teeth inside. Then, wasting no time, she pushed her wrist upwards, away from the chair armrest, and the cable tie uncoiled and fell away.

  With both arms now free, she went to work on the ties holding her ankles.

  * * *

  Switching off the tap, Alex turned back towards the hallway, glass of water in hand. Once Lauren had drunk her fill, he’d leave her alone for a while. He didn’t imagine she’d want to spend any more time in his presence than necessary anyway.

  And, with luck, Anya would return soon with some news. The sooner they got the exchange over with, the better he would feel…

  His thoughts were interrupted as the bedroom door flew open in front of him and the young woman leapt out at him.

  Alex saw something sharp and pointed in her hand as she brought it down against him like a dagger. The glass of water shattered on the wooden floor, and he threw up his arm to ward off the blow.

  He let out a cry of shock as he backed away, the broken neck of the spoon deeply embedded in the flesh of his forearm.

  Lauren paid him no heed, shoving her way past the injured young man and into the hallway, her eyes darting around, taking in as much as possible. She knew she had to make for an exit and get the hell out of here before he recovered. She had to choose the right direction.

  Alex yanked the piece of metal from his arm, blood flowing freely from the wound.

  ‘Lauren, wait!’ he shouted as she tore towards the front door.

  Alex sprinted into the kitchen, opened the drawer and drew out the automatic. He had no desire to use it, but if the young woman escaped, their only leverage against Cain would go with her.

  Lauren fumbled to unlock the front door, which was held fast with both a security chain and a conventional lock. Her limbs were stiff and sore, but there was no choice except to move. This was her chance.

  She could hear Alex’s shouts from the kitchen, and knew he was doing something to stop her, perhaps going for a weapon.

  ‘Lauren!’ he shouted. ‘Stop!’

  Ignoring him, Lauren desperately pulled the chain free of its latch, grasped the door handle and tore it open. She caught a fleeting glimpse of a wide open driveway, an unpaved road, and beyond it, a dense belt of trees sloping uphill.

  She went straight for them, without hesitation. She was a strong runner, and knew she could outpace Alex over open ground. What she couldn’t outrun, however, were bullets, which meant she needed to get to the relative cover of the trees. She would figure the rest out later.

  As she sprinted away, Alex rushed after her, the Smith & Wesson automatic clutched tight. The pain from his arm was unbelievable.

  Skidding to a stop, he levelled his weapon at the retreating woman.

  ‘Stop or I’ll fire!’ he shouted. ‘I mean it! Don’t make me shoot you.’

  It was an empty threat. Alex had barely even used a gun before, and his chances of hitting a moving target from this distance were already questionable. He was bluffing, and the young woman was beginning to see through it. The fear was fading, replaced by a shrewd reassessment of the situation.

  ‘You won’t,’ she said. ‘You can’t.’

  She turned and sprinted the remaining distance to the tree line, ignoring Alex. Hope surged through her as she ran, mounting with every step. She was going to make it!

  She was going to get herself out of this.

  Lauren jumped in shock as something impacted her chest. She saw a figure, directly ahead, crouched low. An instant later, pain flooded her body as electricity surged through the conducting electrodes, robbing her of muscular control. She stumbled a few paces, propelled by her own momentum, before collapsing on the dirt road.

  Nearby, Alex had watched the scene unfold with utter disbelief. Lauren, on the verge of escaping into the woodland, was now twitching on the road, trying feebly to move. What had happened to her?

  His answer came a moment later.

  ‘You were careless,’ a voice remarked. A voice that was too high in pitch to belong to a man. ‘She almost got away.’

  Alex watched as the crouching figure moved forward into the light, giving Alex his first proper look at Lauren’s mysterious assailant.

  His eyes opened wider at what he saw.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  Chapter 32

  Peshawar, Pakistan – 27 September 1988

  The interior of the two-storey building was hot and dusty, the air heavy with the smell of tobacco and coffee and low-burning frustration. The grimy windows were shuttered, the thick wooden slats helping to dampen the drone of traffic outside.

  Cain stared out through a narrow gap in the wood, squinting in the light. After travelling for the past 18 hours, and going far longer without sleep, he was already tired, but there was no question of resting now. Time was against him.

  He turned away from the window, facing the men who were watching him in glowering, expectant silence. They were an intimidating group under any circumstances; each was as tough as iron, their bodies moulded by a training regime as gruelling and intense as any yet devised, their minds and spirits tempered in the heat of battle. Their faces were tanned and weathered by long exposure to wind and sun and snow, many sporting thick beards, and some still bearing the scars of recent action.

  And all were now scrutinizing the man who had summoned them here.

  They were the men of Task Force Black, the unit Cain had helped create to drive the Soviet army out of Afghanistan. Collectively they represented one of the most formidable paramilitary units on the face of the earth.

  And they were angry.

  They had lost their first battle, and two of their comrades had fallen. Another was missing. They wanted vengeance.

  They wanted answers. But first he needed some from them. He had flown 7,000 miles from Langley, without permission, to speak to these men directly, before they were recalled to the US.

  ‘All right,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘Talk to me. What happened out there?’

  ‘We lost,’ one of them said, bluntly. Yunis Asadov, a tough little Azerbaijani who spoke lit
tle but always said what was on his mind. ‘What more is there to say?’

  ‘I need more than that.’

  ‘The Russians were ready for us,’ another said, speaking a little more calmly. Romek Karalius, an ethnic Lithuanian, like Anya. ‘They ambushed us just as we were deploying. It was as if they knew where we would be, and when.’

  Cain hadn’t missed the implication. ‘You’re saying someone tipped them off?’

  ‘The Russians have never been in that position before, and we were careful,’ Romek said. ‘I can think of no other explanation.’

  If true, Romek’s revelation was disturbing news indeed. Only a small cadre even knew about the existence of Task Force Black, never mind their deployment plans and operational details. Who would do such a thing? And why, after all this time? He could do little with unfounded opinions and rumours. He needed facts.

  ‘Any suggestions?’

  Romek spread his arms. ‘You tell us. I am only saying what I saw.’

  Cain said nothing. It would certainly bear further investigation, but he was here for a different reason.

  ‘Talk to me about Anya,’ he prompted. At this, the mood in the room seemed to grow even darker, if that were possible. ‘Carpenter thinks she froze up during the battle, refused to follow orders. Is he right?’

  Even Cain couldn’t have predicted the uproar that followed. Immediately several of her comrades leapt to her defence, angry raised voices competing with one another, each drowning the other out.

  The tumult was only silenced when Romek slammed his fist down on the table with such force that the impact reverberated down into the floorboards. All eyes turned to him – a huge, indomitable, menacing presence.

  ‘Anya did not freeze up,’ he said, choosing each word carefully. ‘She is many things, but she is no coward. She fought as hard as any of us.’

  Cain let out a breath. Romek’s words had confirmed what he’d known all along. Carpenter, Simmons and the others were wrong about her.

  ‘So tell me what really happened,’ Cain pressed.

  Romek was silent for a while, examining what was clearly a painful memory even for a man as resilient as him.

  ‘We were outnumbered and taking fire from three sides,’ he said at last. ‘One of our comrades was already killed by Russian ground fire. We knew they had outflanked our position, and if we tried to hold our ground they would surround and destroy us. The only choice was to fall back. Anya and Panas agreed to stay behind and cover our retreat.’

  ‘And you let her?’ Cain asked, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

  Though he had read the mission reports and was all too aware of Anya’s reputation in combat, part of him couldn’t ignore the fact she was still a woman. The idea that her comrades would willingly allow her to remain behind while they escaped was abhorrent to him.

  The look Romek gave him was enough of a warning. Cain might have been their case officer, but he was a long way from Langley out here, and surrounded by men who could kill him as easily as squashing a bug underfoot.

  ‘It was not our choice,’ Romek said. ‘She would not be moved, and Panas had command. They stayed, we pulled out.’

  ‘And you reported that Panas was killed?’

  Romek nodded. ‘I saw him fall as we were retreating. I do not know where it came from, but he went down and stopped transmitting over the radio net.’

  Cain could see the pall of grief that had descended on the group as he spoke. Panas had been well-liked and well-respected, a natural choice as leader when the group’s former commander had been relieved of duty.

  ‘What about Anya?’

  ‘She was still returning fire the last I saw of her,’ the big Lithuanian confirmed. ‘She kept warning us over the radio net not to come back, that she was surrounded and there was no way to break out. We lost contact soon after.’

  Cain was moved. Though Romek’s dispassionate report of the battle conveyed none of the gut-wrenching danger the group had faced, he nonetheless could picture Anya’s final moments with them.

  ‘Tell me something, Romek,’ he said. ‘Could she be alive?’

  The big operative didn’t answer right away. He knew what Cain was asking, knew how much might depend on the answer he gave. ‘If the Russians were looking for proof of American troops in Afghanistan, they would want prisoners. Whether she would let herself be taken alive…’

  ‘Answer the question,’ Cain demanded.

  Romek’s eyes glimmered. ‘I can’t say for sure. Anya is a survivor, but there are some things no one can live through.’

  Cain looked down, feeling defeated.

  ‘There is something else,’ Romek added. ‘Before we lost contact, Anya gave me a message to give you to.’ The big man was studying him intently now. ‘She said she would keep her promise.’

  It took most of Cain’s self-control to maintain his composure as those words sank in. Even in a dire situation like that, with destruction and death all around her, Anya’s last thoughts had been of him.

  It was then that he was struck by a sudden realization. Her message was more than just an acknowledgement of their relationship and his importance to her. She had foreseen this conversation, the doubts he would have about her survival, and she had chosen to confront them as only she could.

  ‘She’s alive,’ Cain said suddenly, turning around to face the others, his heart beating faster. ‘She promised me she would come home, and she will.’

  Already he imagined the countless obstacles that lay before him, the difficulties and challenges, the layers of security and enmity, the perilous dangers that stood between him and Anya. He didn’t care. He would tear down every one of them to get to her.

  ‘We’re going to get her out.’

  * * *

  Washington DC – 31 March 2010

  It was a bright but chilly spring afternoon in the capital, the sun shining valiantly through breaks in the torn clouds overhead, bringing with it tantalising moments of warmth that were soon extinguished by the cool breeze.

  The National Mall was busy with people heading home early from work, tourists snapping pictures of the various monuments and buildings, and college kids braving the cold to toss a few footballs around.

  Marcus Cain watched one kid in particular sail through a couple of his buddies, easily fending off their half-hearted tackles, before throwing the ball to a teammate who immediately fumbled it, much to the amusement of the others.

  Just for a moment, Cain’s mind flashed back to a similar scene he’d witnessed two decades earlier. He’d been a young man sitting on a sandy beach beneath a cloudless sky, watching a game unfold, without a care in the world. And by his side, the woman who had given him that gift. The woman who had brought out the best in him.

  Never could he have imagined the future that lay ahead for them both.

  It was rare for him to venture away from the protection of Langley these days, but he needed to be away from it. He needed to breathe fresh air, to clear his head and be alone. Well, as close to alone as a man like him could be.

  His Agency protective detail were hovering nearby, lost amidst the sea of suits emerging from nearby government offices. They were far enough away to give him some vestige of privacy, but close enough to intervene if any of the civilians passing by so much as looked at him wrong.

  Reaching into his overcoat, Cain pulled out a photograph he’d brought with him from his office. He didn’t have many pictures of Lauren, he’d realized earlier. Most parents filled entire albums with shots of their kids growing up, playing, celebrating little achievements and milestones, but not Cain. He’d been absent most of the time, and it had never occurred to him when he had been around. Another one of those things that came so naturally to other people, but which was missing from his life.

  The picture in his hands had been taken ten years earlier on San Clemente beach in California. One of the rare occasions he’d taken some time away from work to be with his daughter. He’d taken her back to th
e place he’d grown up, the place he’d worked his first job, hoping in some way that this glimpse of his own childhood might help him connect with hers.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the white sand, all skinny limbs and long hair whipped up by the breeze. Staring out to sea, lost in a daydream. The expression on her face was one of such serenity that it made his heart ache every time he looked at it. A perfect moment of peace in a life filled with so much disappointment.

  He could feel his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Blinking, he placed the picture carefully in his overcoat and reached for the phone. It was a call from the Agency’s station in Pakistan.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Sir, it’s Quinn. Can you talk?’

  ‘What you got for me, Hayden?’

  ‘The Pakistanis came through, like you said. I just got the confirmation from their director’s chief of staff. He’s agreed to the meeting two days from now, on embassy soil.’ Such was his excitement, he actually let out a laugh. ‘I don’t know how we turned it around, but they sound like they want to play ball.’

  A cold breeze whipped across the Mall.

  ‘That’s good news. Well done,’ Cain said, his voice hollow.

  Quinn hesitated. ‘It… would really help if I had an overview of what we’re planning to present,’ he ventured. ‘So we know what to expect.’

  In his pocket, Cain gently touched the photograph, his thoughts lingering on the young woman it depicted. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll have everything you need.’

  Lowering the phone, he ended the call and glanced back towards the grassy playing fields, where another game of improvised football was just starting.

  Chapter 33

  Prague, Czech Republic

  Drake pressed forward, passing rows of identical lockers, eager to recover what they needed and get out of there.

  The storage facility was in a large industrial park in Prague’s 4th district, near the outskirts of town. Drake had chosen this location specifically because it was unmanned, requiring only a security code to gain access.