Black Widow (15 page)

"Yes." Ajza looked at the woman, who was calmly pouring herself another cup of tea from the pot that had been left with them.

"I don't know what you've stepped in, but it's certainly deep enough," Crayle said. "I've been given instructions to let you know that the choice you make is entirely up to you. Neither I nor the department will try to influence you in any way. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ajza said, knowing that she understood only that whoever the woman represented, they were capable of a lot. "Do you know the woman I'm with?"

The woman didn't try to stop Ajza from asking questions.

"No," Crayle said. "Nor do I want to know." Crayle shifted around nervously. Ajza knew he was still trying to find the person shooting video of him. She didn't blame him for feeling uneasy. "I was told to give you this message. I have. My part in this is done. Good luck with whatever it is you're involved in."

The connection went dead at the same time that Crayle hung up the phone on the screen. A moment later the screen went dark.

Across the table and tea service, the woman folded her hands and waited.

After a moment Ajza put her phone away. She felt as though the earth had tilted on its axis. "Who are you people?" she asked hoarsely.

"We're the good guys," the woman responded. "And we'd like you to perform this mission for us."

"And if I choose not to?"

"Then you'll get a call from Mr. Crayle in the next day or so and go back to work as if all this had never happened."

"You went to a lot of trouble to get a refusal from me."

"Is that your answer?"

"What if it was?"

"Then I'd thank you for your time, excuse myself and go find someone else."

"Who?"

The woman shook her head. "I can't tell you what I don't know. Also, you wouldn't be privy to that information."

"You knew to come after me."

"Yes, but you're not the only recourse we have, Ms. Manaev. You are our first choice."

"Am I supposed to be flattered?"

"You can feel that way if you like, but that's not what I intended." The woman paused. "You showed a real flair for thinking on your feet in stressful situations while in Istanbul. We believe you have a lot of potential. However, this mission is extremely delicate. You could easily get killed. We want you to understand that going in."

"If Taburova concerns you, he could simply be terminated," Ajza said.

The woman nodded. "That's one way to deal with this, yes. Unfortunately, often when you cut off the head of something like this, someone else merely steps into the breach to take over. We need to know what is going on before we make a decision about how this should be handled. Think of this as exploratory surgery. In the end we may choose to walk away."

"It doesn't seem that you would go to so much trouble just to walk away."

"You'd be surprised how many times we do that. We could also choose to give a few details to the right people." The woman sipped her tea. "The organization I represent reaches around the world, Ms. Manaev, but we don't put ourselves above it. We try to keep the trains running smoothly. And we try to remain invisible. We only
adjust
situations that can't be resolved on their own. We've yet to be convinced this is one of those."

"And if it is one that will adjust itself?"

"Then you come home and go back about your business."

Ajza sat quietly for a moment and let the emotions churning through her settle somewhat. "Did Taburova kill Ilyas?"

"We don't know."

Some of Ajza's doubts unknotted. Lying to her, telling her that the Chechen was responsible for Ilyas's death, would have been easy. It was what she had expected. And if the woman had instantly said yes, Ajza would have assumed she was lying.

"Then why did you bring Ilyas up?"

"To motivate you. What we're asking you to do, it isn't easy."

"I don't know where Ilyas was killed. His body was returned to us without any information," Ajza said.

"His death would have been hard to explain. Your parents didn't know your brother was involved in espionage. They don't know that you are."

Ajza sipped her tea and remained silent. Denying the charge would be a waste of time, but she couldn't acknowledge it, either.

"I can prove your brother was there when he died." The woman tapped the cybernetic sheet again.

Ilyas's MI-6 identification flashed onto the screen. Other images of Ilyas in training and on the street followed in quick succession.

"How do I know these aren't fakes?" Ajza asked.

"Because you
know,"
the woman replied. "You were trained in many of the same places your brother was." She touched some of the other faces involved. "By some of the same instructors."

The old Israeli who had taught her classes in
krav maga
was especially memorable. From the look on Ilyas's face, the training had pushed him to the limit, as well.

"Your brother died in Moscow," the woman said.

More images flashed across the screen. The background became Russian. Ajza had been to Moscow enough herself that she recognized some of the landmarks.

Still, the photos could have been manipulated. These days a digital image didn't prove anything. A picture might still be worth a thousand words, but each one of them could have been deceit.

"There was a bomb," the woman said, "in the Presnensky district." She halted. "I'm sorry, but these next few images are pretty graphic. I'd rather not show you."

Acid burned at the back of Ajza's throat. She hadn't seen Ilyas's body when it had been returned to England, but she'd heard what the Human Resources person from the "corporation" Ilyas worked for had told her parents. Her brother's body had been broken and ripped apart, burned over seventy percent and was largely unrecognizable. His ID had been confirmed through DNA and dental forensics.

"Show me." Ajza almost didn't recognize her own voice. It sounded like it was a million miles away.

For a moment the woman looked like she was going to object. Ajza saw the hesitation in her perfect features. Then the severe look softened to a heavy sadness.

"Death," she said quietly, "is always a horrible thing when you've known — and loved — the person who was killed." She touched the screen.

London

The first image showed a bomb site. Ajza's mouth dried and sickness swirled through her stomach. Her head felt as though it might detach itself and float away.

"This was taken by a tourist," the woman said. Her dark eyes regarded the scene, and Ajza got the impression that she was seeing it for the first time as well. "Moscow's Federal Security Service arrived quickly, but it was already too late. None of the people involved in the bombing was caught."

The blast range was impressive. Trees had been ripped to pieces and fences lay in disarray over bodies on the frozen ground.

Even though Ilyas had died more than a year ago, his loss bit into Ajza with renewed fury. She wanted to ask which body was supposed to belong to Ilyas at the same time she wanted to debunk the image as false.

"Your brother was almost at ground zero when the explosion occurred," the woman said.

"What created the explosion?" Ajza was surprised that she'd spoken, but even with all the confusion and hurt spilling through her, her training kicked in and chased the answers she knew she'd need.

"We believe it was a bomb. There were reports of a person walking into the area and then blowing up."

Ajza thought of the pictures of the
shahidka
bombers. She couldn't understand how anyone could cover herself in explosives and walk into enemy territory and deliberately blow herself up.

"They believe this was the result of a suicide bomber?"

"Yes. Nothing else in that area had the potential for creating an explosion like that."

"What about a rocket attack? An RPG-7 or something like that?"

"The FSB's reports are conclusive about the bomb. And the possibility of a rocket launcher also implies a definite target."

"Have the identities of the casualties been confirmed?" Ajza couldn't believe she talked so distantly of the act of violence that had taken Ilyas's life. It's your training, she told herself. You've learned to distance yourself. But it still hurt.

"They have been."

"Ilyas wasn't identified in Moscow?"

"No. The British Embassy worked through channels to claim his body." The woman hesitated. "It would have been easier to disavow your brother."

Then we would never have gotten his body back to bury, Ajza realized. The possibility left her shaken even now. They would never have known what had happened to him. Death was preferable to that.

"Did Moscow know who Ilyas was?" Ajza asked.

"No. Things became difficult for a time. Everyone involved knew that Ilyas was connected to an espionage agency. The papers he carried were good forgeries, but they were forgeries."

Ajza swallowed with difficulty. "Could Ilyas have been the target?"

"If someone had discovered your brother was a spy, he would have been killed somewhere else. Somewhere less public. It would have been better if your brother had simply disappeared."

That was probably true. It made sense. Ajza had never been involved in something as cold-blooded as assassination. That took a mind-set she didn't have.

"For the moment," Ajza said, "I'll take your word for it. But you're taking the word of the FSB."

"We've got someone on the ground in Moscow," the woman replied. "A separate report was generated from an independent investigation. Our agent agreed with the initial findings."

"Based on tourist pictures?"

"Based on forensic evidence left at the blast site."

Ajza knew much of her reluctance to accept the report stemmed from her refusal to acknowledge Ilyas's death. "You said Ilyas was near the center of the blast."

"Yes." Another image, this one obviously shot from the top of a building, showed the surrounding area. Three bodies lay bent, broken and burned on the pavement.

Ajza's eyes blinked and she felt the heat of unshed tears. She felt bad that she couldn't immediately pick Ilyas's body from those lying there.

The woman tapped the screen and the next image took shape. This one was of Ilyas, close enough to recognize his maimed and burned features.

Unable to stay still, no longer able to distance herself from what she was seeing, Ajza stood and walked away from the table. She stopped in front of the window and felt the heat of the blunted sun across her skin.

The first time Ajza tried to speak, her voice refused to cooperate. The second time she succeeded. "My brother was there to investigate the
shahidka?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any proof of that?"

"Enough, I believe. I can let you see Ilyas's field reports and the dossier on the operation." The woman paused. "When you're ready."

"Do you know if Ilyas knew Taburova?"

"No."

Ajza forced herself to take a deep breath. "You realize that if I take this assignment, my gender is going to prove to be a problem."

"I know that women have no real rights in Chechen society. We also think that your brother's gender may have been a problem. Women can get overlooked. Your brother may have attracted attention. Someone might have made him."

Ajza shook her head. "No. Ilyas was good at role-playing. No one would have known who he was."

A brief moment of feeling foolish passed through Ajza. She couldn't let her hero worship of her younger brother impede her processing of this terrible event. "Something else happened," she said. Even though that was partially stated out of pride, she also knew it felt right.

The woman remained silent for a time. "Even if you accept this assignment, Ajza, you might never find out what happened to your brother."

I will find out, Ajza told herself. She willed her passions to turn ice cold. There would be no pain, no fear and no anticipation until she allowed it. She turned back to the woman and knew that the difference she'd just made within her heart probably showed.

"You said you only wanted exploratory surgery done here," Ajza said.

"Yes."

"I'm going to be honest with you." Ajza knew she didn't have to be so forthright. In fact, what she was about to admit could work against her. However, playing the card also allowed her to see more of what the woman and her organization wanted.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the woman said.

Ajza almost smiled bitterly at that. Both of them were holding secrets and she knew it. "If I find out what happened to my brother — if Taburova was involved in Ilyas's murder — I won't leave him in place. I will kill him."

New York

"You know," Jake said laconically, "I'm liking her more and more."

Kate stared at the scene in the tea room. Ajza remained unflinching as she faced Samantha.

"She could be a loose cannon," Kate commented.

"At least she's working on our side," Jake said.

"She could get herself killed."

Jake leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. "She's not going to let this get to her, Kate. If her brother's murder was going to seriously jack with her, the Brits would have pulled her from undercover work."

A line of text formed at the bottom of Kate's monitor. At the other end of the connections routed into her office from the tableau in England, Samantha tapped out a Morse-code message against the pressure-sensitive sheet.

RESPONSE?

"Tell her she's in," Kate said. "We'll have a man in place in Moscow to run damage control. But she has us over a barrel here. We can't get someone else in such short time who would fit in over there. She also knows Mustafa's organization. If there's another connect between Istanbul and Taburova, she'll probably see it before any of us do."

"And she knows her brother," Jake said. "Now that she knows where he was killed, she'll try to pick up the trail. At this point, even if we didn't bankroll her, she'd go."

Kate knew that was true. "All right, Samantha, let's clear her and find out what she can do. Tell her you'll be in touch."