Shadow Conflict

by Shadow Conflict (epub)

  In any case, Anya’s warning last night carried some weight. Even if she’d somehow broken out of her room, she didn’t doubt that further measures would be waiting to thwart her. And if she somehow overcame them, she didn’t rate her chances of evading a trained killer in unfamiliar woodland miles from civilization.

  So she had finally given up, lying down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling as she brooded over everything. She’d thought about her enigmatic kidnapper, and the small, ragtag group that seemed to follow her. She’d replayed the frightening confrontation where Anya had given her a knife and dared Lauren to kill her, and the whirl of conflicting emotions that had followed. She’d thought about her friends back in Paris, whether they’d been told anything of what had happened to her. And most of all, she’d thought about her father.

  He’d have to know that she was missing by now. What was he thinking? Was he looking for her? Was he frightened, inflamed or shocked by her abduction? She had found her mind drifting back to the words spoken by both Anya and Alex about him. The doubts she’d dismissed so vehemently had slowly crept back in, no matter how hard she’d tried to convince herself it was nothing but lies and false accusations.

  She had told herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, convinced that it would be impossible anyway. Exhaustion must have won out over fear.

  Her stomach cramped, reminding her of how little she’d eaten over the past 24 hours. One bowl of tinned peaches wasn’t going to cut it.

  She’d slept in her clothes, so there was no need to get dressed. Taking a breath, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, before cautiously crossing the room. Anya was waiting to escort her to the living room.

  ‘We will be leaving soon,’ Anya explained. ‘I thought you would want to eat something first. Assuming you can be trusted to behave?’

  Lauren ignored the feeling that she was a disobedient school child being lectured by a teacher.

  ‘Yesterday you had me strapped to a chair under armed guard,’ she said. ‘Why the change of heart?’

  ‘I prefer cooperation to coercion,’ Anya said. ‘It will make things easier for all of us. But if that is too much to ask of you…’

  ‘Let’s get it over with.’

  Taking that for acquiescence, Anya gestured for her to go ahead.

  Lauren found the other two occupants of the house already seated at the dining table. The boy was in the middle of devouring a slice of toast, while Alex was nursing a coffee. She noticed he now had a bandage wrapped around his forearm.

  Lauren sat down, Alex moving his chair just a little further away from hers. She couldn’t blame him. After all, there were plenty more spoons on the table.

  Her eyes were on the plentiful breakfast options. Whatever else happened today, it made sense to keep her energy up. There was no telling whether she might need it.

  Anya joined them at the table. She wasn’t staring like the other two, but Lauren nonetheless sensed Anya was observing her in case she tried anything.

  For her own part, Lauren was content to shovel heavily buttered toast and jam into her mouth, washing it down with gulps of orange juice. She was both hungry and thirsty, and eager to satisfy both needs as quickly as possible.

  Alex seemed to have gotten over his surprise at her arrival, and gone back to his coffee. The boy, however, continued to gawp at her, making no attempt to hide it.

  Finally it became too irritating to endure. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘What is it?’

  Far from being embarrassed, he seemed relieved that she’d broached the subject.

  ‘I want to say… apology,’ he said. ‘For shooting you. I did not want to hurt you.’

  Lauren didn’t quite know what to say. She wasn’t ready to forgive him, but he did at least seem sincere.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

  His dark brows drew together in a frown, and he looked to Anya for permission, reassurance. She nodded.

  ‘Yasin.’

  ‘Yasin,’ she repeated. ‘Mind if I ask you a question, Yasin?’

  ‘No.’

  She took another bite of toast. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  Though he was young enough to be Anya’s son, she didn’t sense that kind of relationship between them. They were awkward around each other, as if they barely knew one another.

  He seemed puzzled by her question. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Because I’m curious, Yasin. Normally 10-year-old boys aren’t involved in kidnappings.’

  ‘I am 12,’ he corrected her, as if that made all the difference. ‘And I am a man soon, not a boy.’

  ‘My question still stands.’

  ‘I make a deal with Fauji,’ he said. Perhaps that was his nickname for her. ‘I help her escape from battle in Pakistan.’

  ‘Battle?’ Lauren repeated. ‘Battle against who?’

  ‘Bad men,’ the kid answered. ‘She take me with her out of the country. I have saved her life, so now she owes me…’ He trailed off, struggling with his English. ‘I do not know the right word in your language. We call it nanawatai.’

  She knew the concept he was trying to describe. It was quite familiar to her.

  ‘Protection,’ Lauren said. ‘Or maybe asylum. You helped her, and in return that gives you the right to claim protection under her roof.’

  The boy looked at her in surprise. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘It’s part of the Pashtunwali, right? The Pashtun tribal code. Nanawatai is one of the strongest-held beliefs. Even sworn enemies adhere to it.’

  The Pashtunwali defined basic principles for how its followers should live their lives: from showing respect and loyalty to avoiding untruths, and in this case, providing food and shelter to those who requested it.

  Yasin nodded, apparently warming to the conversation.

  ‘I studied the history of Islamic cultures for a while. Didn’t have time to get too deep into it, but I learned the basics,’ she explained, then glanced at Anya. ‘Never would have had you picked as a Muslim.’

  ‘I am not. Nor am I subject to tribal law,’ Anya fired back, though she looked faintly embarrassed by the turn in the conversation. Perhaps the revelation that she’d needed the help of a 12-year-old boy was more than she cared for Lauren to know.

  She gave Yasin a meaningful look. ‘We made a deal, nothing more.’

  That seemed to take the wind out of the boy’s sails a little, and he quietened down, returning to his breakfast. For a small, skinny kid, he was able to put away a startling quantity of food, and seemed to content to occupy himself with that for now.

  ‘What about you?’ Lauren asked, turning her attention to Alex. ‘What’s your story?’

  ‘Maybe I don’t have one.’

  ‘Everybody has one.’

  ‘Then maybe I’d rather you didn’t know mine,’ he said, wincing as he lifted his cup of coffee with his injured arm.

  ‘Look, for what it’s worth, I apologize for what I did,’ she said. ‘I was frightened and desperate, and for all I knew you were going to kill me. It was the only thing I could think of at the time.’

  That last part was mostly true, even if the apology was far from genuine. Still, screaming and ranting was unlikely to accomplish much, and for all his dented pride, she sensed Alex remained the weak link. If she could win him over, there was still a chance he might help her later.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked. ‘Your arm?’

  ‘It’s fine. Just a scratch.’

  ‘Well, like I say, I’m sorry for what I did, Alex.’ She took a sip of her orange juice, trying to decide how to play this. ‘I don’t imagine any of us are going to come out of this as friends, but I was hoping we could at least be civilized.’

  ‘If we all come out of this alive, that’ll do for me,’ Alex said

  ‘Finish up, we’ll be leaving soon,’ Anya said. She rose from her seat and looked down at Lauren. ‘If you want to shower and change clothes, now would be the time.’

  L
auren nodded. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To return you to your father,’ Anya replied, unwilling to be more specific.

  Lauren was sensible enough not to push further on that. In any case, she had bigger concerns at that moment. ‘Tell me I’m not going to spend the whole journey locked in the trunk.’

  At this, Anya studied the young woman carefully. ‘That depends on how you agree to behave. If you promise to cooperate, then as you say, we can be civilized. If I doubt your intentions for even a moment, I will have to be more… assertive with you. So, what will it be?’

  Lauren had the unnerving feeling that Anya was somehow looking into her, as if she could see right through any deception to the hidden intent beneath. It would be unwise to lie to her at such a crucial moment.

  ‘I’ll cooperate,’ she said.

  Anya nodded, satisfied she’d made her point.

  Chapter 44

  Peshawar, Pakistan – 1 October 1988

  Cain reached out to every contact he could think of, securing every piece of useful intel he could get his hands on, funnelling it all to Task Force Black. Galvanized by a new sense of purpose, they had immediately rallied behind him and what he’d quickly dubbed Operation Jurate.

  He’d arranged air transportation that would get the team close to the border. From there, they would take vehicles from their local Mujahedeen allies and make their way to the objective, ideally being in place to launch the assault just after sunset.

  Several rebel commanders who had fought alongside Task Force Black had pledged men in support. They would be standing by to launch a diversionary attack to tie down Soviet forces near the facility, hopefully buying the team enough time to get in, find Anya and get her out. There were no guarantees of success, but a unanimous vote had confirmed they were willing to take the risk to recover one of their own.

  His pace of work had been feverish, broken only by brief snatches of sleep before launching himself into action once more. Anya was alive – he wouldn’t allow himself to contemplate another possibility – and somehow he was going to get her out. Somehow he would find a way to bring her home.

  He was just gulping down the tepid remnants of his cup of coffee, his desk strewn with printed documents and satellite images, when the door opened without warning. Cain looked up, startled by the imposing figure that had entered.

  ‘Richard,’ he said, rising to his feet.

  ‘No need to stand on ceremony, Marcus,’ Carpenter said, closing the door behind him. ‘This won’t take long.’

  ‘What are you doing out here?’

  Carpenter stopped in front of his desk. ‘I could ask you the same question, only I know the answer already. Did you really think you could pull something like this without anyone finding out? Someone always finds out. You should know that better than anyone.’

  Cain stood behind his desk, glaring hard.

  ‘I came here out of respect, because this is the kind of conversation I’d rather have off the record. I’m here to talk some sense into you. Now, why don’t you do yourself a favour, Marcus, and drop this thing before it gets out of control?’

  ‘She’s alive, Richard.’

  Carpenter shook his head. ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  ‘Bullshit.’ Reaching for one of the printed images, he snatched it off the desk and held it up for Carpenter to see. ‘I’ve seen the satellite images. This wasn’t a search-and-destroy mission – it was a fucking snatch and grab. They captured her alive and took her to a KGB facility for interrogation. She’s alive, and you’re trying to cover it up!’

  ‘And you want to go charging in like a knight in shining armour, huh?’ Carpenter taunted. ‘Wake up, Marcus. That’s not the world we live in. You want to start a full-scale war over one woman?’

  ‘We’re already fighting a war!’ Cain shouted back.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. The Mujahedeen are fighting a civil war within the borders of Afghanistan. The US government has no official involvement.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Cain snapped. ‘Don’t hide behind that shit. You know what we do here, you know what Task Force Black sacrificed for us. They helped change the course of this war. Now one of our own needs our help, and you want to abandon—’

  ‘She’s a deniable operator, Marcus. What do you think that means?’ Carpenter said, raising his voice. ‘Anya knew what she was signing up for, even if you didn’t. Task Force Black was expendable; they were always expendable. That’s why we created them in the first place.’

  ‘She’s not expendable to me.’

  Carpenter smiled, both irritated and amused by his obstinacy. However, he had a trump card.

  ‘You can see this any way that you want, but you’re not hijacking Agency resources and endangering US foreign policy over one operative. I came here to tell you that face to face, out of respect for the work you’ve done.’

  ‘What are you going to do? Fire me?’

  The older man’s smile had vanished. ‘I already have, Marcus.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your judgement’s become compromised. You’ve lost your objectivity. I’m afraid you’re no longer a viable part of this operation. I’m shutting you down.’

  ‘You’re taking me off my own project. The task force I helped create, you son of a bitch!’

  ‘I’m protecting you,’ Carpenter corrected him.

  ‘From what?’

  ‘From yourself,’ he explained. ‘You’re a good case officer, Marcus, but you don’t have the balls for this kind of work. Better to end it now before more people get killed. I’ll make sure you’re quietly reassigned to other projects – somewhere your talents can be put to better use. There’ll be no stain on your record, no adverse consequences for your career. Hell, you’ll probably land a promotion before too long.’ He leaned a little closer. ‘It’s a good deal, but it expires when I leave this room. You should take it.’

  ‘Fuck this,’ Cain said, reaching for his desk phone. ‘I’m taking this to Simmons myself.’

  He still believed he could win the director of Special Activities Division around, persuade him of the merits of his plan. Cain held more sway over him than the brash and ruthless Carpenter ever had. Then they’d see who was removed from command.

  ‘You can’t,’ Carpenter said, sounding almost bored.

  ‘Yeah? Why’s that?’ Cain asked as he started punching in the number.

  ‘Because I spoke to him before I flew out of Langley.’ That was enough to stop Cain in his tracks. ‘He supports my recommendation, said you’ve become an unnecessary liability. He’s prepared to terminate your employment with the Agency if I can’t talk you round.’ Carpenter took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. ‘Now put down the goddamn phone before you end what’s left of your career.’

  Cain’s hand moved almost of its own volition, slowly lowering the phone back into its cradle.

  ‘Now order Task Force Black to stand down,’ Carpenter went on. ‘I’ll make the arrangements to have you flown back to DC. There’ll be questions to answer, of course, but if you play it smart we can make most of this shitstorm disappear.’

  Cain didn’t look up. ‘I need 24 hours.’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t hear me—’

  ‘Twelve hours,’ Cain said. ‘They’ve dispersed, gone dark. I need to contact them, explain what’s happening. They won’t back down now unless I do this.’

  Carpenter scrutinized him. ‘All right, Marcus. Twelve hours. No more. If you don’t report in by then… well, you might find yourself in the same boat as Anya.’

  He turned to leave, pausing at the door to look back.

  ‘It’s been good working with you.’

  Cain waited until he’d closed the door before swiping his arm across the desk. His phone, the documents and files and maps and everything else flew to the floor as Cain turned away in disgust.

  He was being shut down, forced out of his own project. Carpenter held all the cards, could leverage what he had o
n Cain to destroy the younger man at any moment. It was over. He would go back to Langley in disgrace, his mad, desperate scheme to recover the woman he loved in tatters.

  That was when it changed, when Carpenter’s words were replaced by a very different pledge. Anya’s last words before they lost contact with her, given to Romek to pass on to Cain.

  I’ll keep my promise.

  This was a moment, he knew. One of those crucial moments in life that determined what kind of a man he was going to be, what path he would follow.

  Cain’s hands slowly clenched into fists as the idea took shape. It was foolish, self-defeating and would likely spell the end of his career, if not his life. But he no longer cared about any of that.

  Fuck Carpenter. Fuck Simmons. Fuck the Agency. Anya meant more to him than all of them combined.

  He had twelve hours before he was forced to leave the country.

  Twelve hours to put his hastily planned operation into effect.

  Twelve hours to get Anya back.

  He would not fail her again.

  * * *

  Ramstein Air Force Base, Germany – 1 April 2010

  It was a cloudy morning in southern Germany, with low-lying patches of mist hanging over the fields as Cain disembarked the Gulfstream jet. He stopped to take his first breath of fresh air since departing the US, then surveyed the cavernous aircraft hangar where the private jet had taxied to a halt.

  As instructed, Hawkins was waiting to receive him, along with a pair of Agency security operatives and a silver Mercedes SUV. Not that they needed much protection here, of course. Ramstein AFB served as a major NATO command centre and was effectively a small city unto itself, with over 16,000 US military personnel alone serving there.

  But he didn’t intend to stay there long.

  ‘Talk to me,’ he said as soon as he’d descended the stairs. ‘What’s our situation?’