The Puppetmasters (11 page)

He was matter-of-factly preparing for his trip to Seattle and reviewing the new information. It was driving him nuts that some as-yet-unknown international agency had more knowledge about the matter than he did. Who was the agency? Which country did it involve? Why did the country want the executives? Who is Kendall Radcliffe, and why is she part of the unfolding events? Who sent the note to McDougall, and how was it delivered? All of these questions re-played continuously in Zanders’ mind.

He now had other agencies involved in the investigation and was determined to stay on top of the information flow. He urged cooperation and sharing at the highest levels and fervently hoped his colleagues would respect his authority. He, of course, had no intention of sharing information … if it could be helped. He still had ten years before retirement, and he wanted at least one more promotion and a cushy assignment at the end of this ordeal.

As Zanders climbed aboard the FBI plane, he was thoroughly irritated at having to fly to Seattle. Having grown up and spent most of his life on the East Coast, he viewed Seattle as nothing more than a remote outpost that was barely civilized and full of liberal nuts and tree huggers. The fact that Seattle experienced rain or gray skies practically every day only added to the misery of having to make this trip.

He could have sent agents from the FBI’s Seattle office. But he didn’t trust anyone else to size up the Orion business and its employees. He wanted to look firsthand at the company and its headquarters, scrutinize the security staff and maybe the families, and then hightail it back to DC in no more than forty-eight hours. Zanders knew how to turn up his internal turbojets and, in truth, accomplished more during a crisis than most of his fellow agents.

The one thing this investigation had going for it was Zanders’ zeal. When he was on a mission he was dogged, focused, and passionate. He could sniff out the slightest lie or catch a whiff of a clue that would have him charging ahead, most times before his colleagues had time to regroup.

He gritted his teeth, ordered himself to sleep on the plane, and settled back for the five hour trip. He brought two agents with him and commanded them to do the same. He wanted a sharp, alert team tomorrow, and they were going to get answers … one way or another. Once the others were settled and quiet, he allowed himself a Guinness and then quickly slipped into a deep sleep.

K
ENDALL AWOKE TO THE FARAWAY
sound of the call for
Fajr
prayer. The call to morning prayer was oddly comforting to her. If she was left alone all day, she was able to tell how much time had elapsed by the ritual chanting she had now heard at set times throughout the day.

She was getting really worried and going stir crazy. She had been left in her room in isolation for two days now. Meals were brought to her room and the dishes removed perfunctorily as she finished her meal. Making matters worse, she was convinced she was being watched. A thorough search of her room only revealed hundreds of pinpoint holes in the walls, including in the bathroom. She couldn’t be sure where the cameras were, but she spent as little time in the bathroom as possible, and even less in the shower stall.

Maysah, the female doctor, had stopped in for a minute each night only to ask if she had any needs. Maysah seemed timid and afraid of Kendall, or maybe of any friendship that might develop between them, and was not interested in small talk. She usually left as quickly as she arrived.

Kendall was terribly worried about her mother. She knew that her mother’s neighbor would dutifully check on her every day, even if only by phone. But she also knew her mother was not strong. This dear lady had been a stay-at-home mother after her only child was born. Kathleen Radcliffe had devoted all of her time and love to her daughter and husband, and nearly died of a broken heart when Kendall’s father passed away. He left her with plenty of money to see her through the retirement years, but her zest for life was slowly ebbing. It did not appear that grandchildren were even on the horizon, and she had stopped asking about it.

One time recently she made some vague reference to the temporary nature of Kendall’s relationship with Jeremy. Kendall had been angry at first but then chalked it up to her mother being confused and tired and probably associating the sentiment to one of her friend’s children. Now that Kendall had time to
think about it, she wondered if her mother knew all along that the relationship with Jeremy was never to be. She had underestimated her mother again.

The thought made her more miserable, and she longed for the view from her mother’s Puget Sound bungalow along Redondo Beach Drive, something that had always calmed her. At that moment, Kendall would have given anything to walk along the boardwalk and watch the scuba diving groups on the north end as they assembled for classes and recreational dives. The refreshing salt air energized her and renewed her until the next visit.

A loud knock sounded on her door and ended her musings. Somehow she knew it was Rashid. She was very glad to see him, but also angry that she had been left alone for two days. He had assured her that he was going to explain things the next day after leaving her on the evening of the dinner with President Shazeb. Two days had now passed. Where the hell had he been?

She wanted to fling herself and all her fury at him, but she didn’t want to send him running from the room in disgust.

His demeanor was cool as he appraised her room. He quickly took in her suitcase and few personal items in view. He felt bad that he had left her alone for two days. But he knew it was necessary in order to solidify their friendship and in particular Kendall’s reliance or dependence on him. It was a psychological trick he had learned during intensive military training. He was partly curious to see if it actually worked on this independent American female.

It was not in his nature to use psychological torture on anyone, let alone a young, pretty, vulnerable female who he suspected was entirely innocent and at the very least was being held against her will. During the last two days, Rashid thought about Kendall and her Orion colleagues quite a bit. He had no ill intention toward them and had actually looked forward to seeing Kendall again. He was not planning to harm her in any way and hoped he would be able to get her and the others out of Afghanistan. But first he needed to gain her trust.

Kendall couldn’t help herself. She had to release some of the pent-up frustration. Her eyes blazed when she confronted him. “Where have you been? You told me we were going to talk! Obviously, your word means nothing.”

Rashid turned to leave, saying quietly, “I’m sorry. I thought you would be happy to see me.” He grabbed the doorknob to pull it open.

“No, wait! Stop! I’m just so angry and bored and worried about my mother. I thought you’d left me for good, and I was going to be stuck here by myself.” Her voice trailed off as she realized that she must sound like one of those weak, dependent, helpless, females with a penchant for histrionics. Well, hell, she did feel close to hysteria and wasn’t about to apologize for what she considered as rational behavior, given the circumstances.

He slowly turned around and waited as she took a deep breath and seemed to visibly calm down. “It is unfortunate that I was not able to see you the past two days. But that couldn’t be helped. I am here now. Would you like to go outside for some fresh air and perhaps take a ride?”

Slightly mollified and straining to catch every word to analyze for sincerity, she decided that for whatever reason, his not visiting her the prior two days was beyond his control. She was also ecstatic at the opportunity to go outside and also to spend more time with him, to learn more about their previous cryptic discussions. She did not fear him and felt that if she played her cards right, she might actually glean some useful information.

Kendall donned her headscarf, and they headed out of the building. Rashid inclined his head as they passed General Omar. The general smirked and gave a wink at Kendall. She shuddered at the knowing look.

“Where are we going? I would like to see Glenn Carson. Is he feeling better?”

Rashid slowed his pace, pondered the question, and then frowned. “That will not be possible. He’s not feeling better, and we’re not exactly sure what’s wrong with him. It may be contagious, and therefore, he’s in isolation. I’m doing some research now.” He stopped, realizing he was getting ahead of himself.

Kendall caught it immediately. “What? You are doing research? Why not the doctor? You are a soldier! What’s really wrong with him? What’ve you all done to him?” She felt the bubblings of panic again. She swallowed slowly and shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs. She put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Who are you?”

He looked from left to right and then straight ahead and motioned to the jeep some twenty feet away. In a measured tone he answered, “If you are quiet and patient, it will soon be revealed. But not yet. We need to be alone and away from others.” He looked deeply and thoroughly into her eyes as if searching for a sign of understanding or at least an attempt at allegiance. “Please trust me.”

She hesitated and then stepped into the jeep, and the two drove away. Kendall willed herself to calm down. She felt optimistic for the first time. This quiet yet imposing man appeared capable of having a plan and seeing it through. His confidence and demeanor gave her the assurances she so needed. She considered herself somewhat worldly. She had traveled all over the world and had met many personalities. She could spot a scoundrel with ill intentions the first minute she spoke with him. Rashid was anything but that. His countenance was earnest and forthright, and he gave the impression of reasonableness. At the same time, she got the distinct feeling he would not appreciate her summing him up so. Therefore, she decided to play along for now.

“So, where are we going?”

Rashid smiled and caught Kendall’s cautious—if slightly reluctant—
conspiratorial tone. He relaxed in his seat. “I thought we would go to the market in Kabul. We will buy some fresh fruit and get you something to drink … maybe a Coca Cola?”

She broke into a cautious smile and said, “I would love to have some fresh fruit.”

“Great! The market has wonderful melons, but it needs to be carefully washed before it’s eaten.” He frowned having to admit it and continued, “Much of the fruit is washed in the nearby
juie.
That’s an open ditch that runs through the city. The water is not clean. It would make you very sick.”

She nodded. “Okay. Good to know.”

“Even though the country of Afghanistan is quite wealthy now with its continual flow of oil, at least forty percent of Afghan children die before the age of five due to the lack of clean drinking water. The country has greatly improved its infrastructure and living standards, but it is hard to make people understand how important something like clean drinking water is. At least the country now has a water system.” Kendall shook her head in disbelief.

They drove in silence along the somewhat bumpy but paved road for the few miles to the market. As they approached the city, they passed a few donkeys on the side of the road. A large delivery-sized truck rumbled past them, and Rashid stole a glance at Kendall as she reacted to the colorful truck with a gaping jaw.

“What is that?”

“Welcome to Afghanistan! Our truck drivers are very proud of their trucks. As you can see, they hand paint little pictures over most of the flat surfaces.”

Kendall noticed that in between the pictures was a border of stylize flowers.

“This particular driver is quite successful … maybe even wealthy.”

“How can you tell?”

“He’s wearing a watch. Not too many Afghan men wear watches yet.”

They rounded a curve and drove onto the main street. She took in all the bustling activity and the various stalls. There were groups of men hanging around. Most were smoking what looked like cigarettes.

Kendall pointed at one of the groups. “Are they smoking cigarettes?”

“Yes, cigarettes. But also
naswar.
It’s the Afghan version of snuff. It’s a kind of dipping tobacco that is moist. It’s made from baked tobacco leaves, limewater, tree bark ash, and flavorings. At the end of the manufacturing process, water is added and then the mixture is rolled into balls. The balls are then placed under the lip for awhile.”

“Ugh.”

Kendall noticed there were no traffic lights. Only a uniformed soldier provided traffic control. Most of the cars were Japanese, German, and Russian
models, with a few newer French cars and an occasional Ford truck. There seemed to be honking everywhere for no apparent reason.

“Why is everyone honking?”

Rashid smiled. “That’s the way we drive in Afghanistan. They are telling people to get out of their way or just generally letting people know they are driving by.”

“Good Lord! I don’t know if my nerves can take all this racket!”

Now he laughed. He maneuvered the jeep into a parking spot. “Come! Let’s walk.” He had made sure to dress in full military garb and was wearing his service weapon. There was a long-handled knife stuck in the other side of his trouser. He caught her open stare at his imposing form.

“Is there a problem, Kendall?”

“No, but you do look ready for battle. Is it necessary to have all those weapons on you? This looks like a peaceful place.”

He gave her an intense look. “That’s exactly why I’m wearing them. I am not required to wear the weapons, but I choose to always have them on. I want people to be afraid of me or, rather, to not question my authority. It gives me respect. Does that make sense?”

She shrugged.

“Also, you notice there are only a few groups of women out and about. My appearance with you—an obvious westerner—shows people that I am your escort. They will be curious about you but will mostly not approach you.”

“Do these people know you or at least recognize you?”

“Yes. I have worked hard for their loyalty and friendship. I help them when I can.”

Kendall was puzzled. Why did he need to help them? Was this part of his official duties, or did he simply choose to help them? And how did he help them?
All in good time, Kendall!