The Identity Thief (23 page)

The man holding X keeled over dead, Traci's bullet in his right eye socket. All this took place in the space of less than five seconds.

"Nice performance," X told Traci, standing and brushing dust off his knees. "How will I ever know if you're faking it?"

"He's getting away," Harry said, pointing to the wounded bandit.

Asar scrambled on the ground for a gun. "I will send that sodomite to hell," he cried.

Traci coolly picked up the rocket launcher and aimed it at the cliff which the sole surviving bandit was desperately trying to scale, about 20 yards away. She released the firing mechanism and the missile took off. A second later there was an explosion in the distance and nothing was left of the bandit but smoke.

Asar, kneeling, looked up at her in amazement.

"You are a goddess," the teen gasped reverently.

X stepped beside her and whispered, "Very Sylvester Stallone of you."

* * *

They found the bandits' hideout less than 300 yards away. The mouth of the cave was about halfway up a steep incline, concealed by bushes. If it hadn't been for an empty vodka bottle left at the foot of the slope, they would never have seen it.

After a short passage they had to hunch over to squeeze through, the mouth opened up into a huge cavern with a span of more than 200 feet. At the back wall of the cave, a trickle of water flowed down the rocks and dribbled into a little black pool. Their flashlights revealed dozens of carvings, pictograms recounting a forgotten battle waged countless eons ago.

Searching the bandit's stores they found some American-made weapons, an Uzi and crates filled with plastic-wrapped bundles of opium. Roped in a stall were eight donkeys.

"Allah is merciful. We can use the animals from here on," Asar said. "The terrain is becoming difficult to traverse by truck. We would have had to continue on foot."

Next the teen came across a box chock full of pornography that seemed to have originated in India. Bare-breasted, brown-skinned girls with diamond studs decorating their noses leered into the camera as they shed their saris. Asar's eyes bulged. X had the distinct feeling he'd never seen a topless woman before, let alone one naked with her legs akimbo.

Harry took the box from him. "We should burn this trash immediately."

Asar looked mournfully at the stack of porn, then nodded. "We must not let our hearts be contaminated by such filth."

"I'll take first watch," X said.

He sat close to the entrance, a Kalashnikov on his knee, positioned so that he could put a shot in the head of the first uninvited visitor. Of course, he'd never fired a gun in his life - he hadn't even carried one. Con men who did were a disgrace to the profession in his view. Hadn't thrown a punch since seventh grade for that matter. Some boy had said something about his mother.

What had he called her
?

Traci settled down beside him, still wearing her face piece.

"I thought you were asleep," he said.

"Harry told me you tried to escape last night."

"That's an exaggeration," he replied. "I was taking a walk. A long one."

She shook her head.

"I don't get you. Don't you care about your country? Don't you care about anything other than yourself? If The Chief gets his hands on a nuke, millions of Americans could die. Innocent children in New York, in Los Angeles, in Kansas could be incinerated."

"I guess I'm lucky I'm over here then."

"Why are you so goddamned selfish?"

"Because I'm a criminal,"

"That's no explanation."

"What, do you want my life story now?"

"I want to understand. Explain it to me like I'm a three-year-old."

X sighed. He stood up and leaned the gun against the wall.

"I've been on my own since I was 14 - that was the day my mother offed herself with sleeping pills. I never knew my father. He was some rich bastard who seduced Mother when she was working in his house scrubbing his toilets. She never told me his name. I do know that he was a big shot in the United States government. So do I say the pledge of allegiance to Uncle Sam every morning? No."

Traci had read about the suicide in his file. She could see in him the lost boy who'd just been told he'd never see his mother again. She stood up beside X and touched his hand gently.

"Robbing every rich man in America won't bring your mother back," she said.

"Keep my mother out of this," he said pulling away from her. He cursed himself for bringing Mother up. He'd never told the story to anyone, not a social worker, not a foster parent.

"And there's more to a man's identity than bearing his father's name," Traci went on. "You can define yourself by your actions."

He stared at her fiercely, nostrils flaring, then his face relaxed and he laughed.

"Are you one of those women who feel they have to 'save' a man, save his soul?" he demanded. "Are you some kind of missionary now?"

He smirked. "Or are you more interested in the missionary position? That's it, isn't it? You want me to fall in love with or maybe just bone you. Gosh, did that little finger-fuck session get you that hot and bothered, honey? I know it's been a while, but try to keep it in your pants, for God's sake. Q needs to equip you girl spies with pens that turn into vibrators or something."

Traci snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, sugar. My flavor is chocolate."

"Really?" he said. "Well, then, why are you blushing?"

"I don't blush," she said.

He tore away her veil. And, sure enough, her face was flushed.

"You, you stinking, arrogant ... " she stammered.

He grabbed her waist, pulled her close and planted his lips on hers. She pushed him away - but not far.

"Stop," Traci protested weakly.

He kissed her again, more aggressively now, and her bosom pressed up against his chest.

This is crazy
, her robust superego lectured her. But it had been so, so long since she had been with a man, or been kissed by a man, beyond a perfunctory peck on the cheek at the end of a first and last date - or for that matter, had even been touched by a man except in a judo hold.

He pulled away and gave a mischievous grin.

"How do you know I'm not a 'brother,' by the way?"

"Yeah, right."

"Well, maybe part. And I'll be happy to show you which part."

"Hush your mouth."

It seemed like he was going to ruin the moment with more banter, but she used her mouth to shut him up. She slid her tongue into his mouth and wrapped it around his. Her hands found his shoulder blades and pulled him toward her so their groins ground together. She could feel him becoming aroused.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry's voice startled them. They broke apart like high-school juniors caught necking in the janitor's closet by the principal.

"What kind of woman are you, that you would throw yourself at this man so shamelessly?" he snarled. "Cover your face!"

"You're really staying in character as an uptight prick," remarked X, unflustered. "Are you a method actor?"

Harry railed on, as if the other man were invisible. "You're jeopardizing the mission. Asar is 30 feet away!"

Traci was too embarrassed to utter a word in her own defense. But X came to the rescue.

"Is that you talking, or the green-eyed god?" X suggested, casually picking up the rifle and resting it on his shoulder.

"Don't be absurd. I have a wife and three children."

"Methinks the gentleman protests too much," said X. "It looks like we have a love triangle on our hands."

Traci could barely resist a titter. The situation WAS like something out of high school. And Harry couldn't sound more jealous if he tried.

"Please don't fight over me, boys," she said.

"Don't flatter
yourself,
" Harry said angrily. Then his expression changed, as if he regretted his choice of words. "I knew Jones was crazy to send a 'breast-fed' cherry on a mission this delicate."

"Excuse me," Traci snarled, facing off with him. "Breast-fed," as Traci knew only too well, was spy slang for a female FBI agent.

"You heard me."

"I will kick your puny unibrow ass from here back to Lebanon."

"That'll be the day."

She stepped close enough to feel his panting breath against her face.

"Listen, John Wayne. I am leading this mission until the minute I am killed or captured. So you will address me at all times with respect."

Harry stepped back. "Respect yourself," he mumbled.

Sobering words. She had indeed allowed herself to be flattered, to enjoy the sense that she was the object of desire, like a doe contested over by two smitten bucks. It was time to reassert her authority.

"Let's call it a night," she said brusquely. "I'll take watch."

She jerked the rifle out of X's hands.

* * *

Back in the body of the cavern, wrapped in a blanket beside the still-snoring Asar, X couldn't believe what had just happened. He had never revealed so much of himself to anyone.

His imprisonment had weakened him, he felt. He replayed the entire episode in his mind. He certainly hadn't intended to kiss Traci; he'd acted on impulse - something he rarely did. He'd done it punish her, to unseat her from her high horse. Prove she was no better than him. And it was indeed smug satisfaction he primarily felt as she surrendered to his kiss. At first. Then, as she responded so aggressively and she'd gotten him aroused, well, he felt something else.

He remembered the taste of her lips and the scent of her; no perfume of course - that would be offensive to Allah - but a clean, soapy smell. She hadn't bathed in days, none of them had. How did she manage that?

Feeling himself growing hard again, he shook off the memory. First rule of the game: never, ever fall for a mark.

He wondered, though, how far it might have gone had they not been so rudely interrupted by Harry. What a self-righteous jackass! Something the man had said irked him in particular, though X could not say precisely why
.

"Don't flatter
yourself
," Harry had said. He'd echoed Traci's words.

Just how long had he been watching us?
X suddenly wondered.
Spying on us.

They continued through the canyon on donkeys. X, fortuitously, had learned to ride while impersonating a polo-playing Andover graduate for a scam. He'd taken riding lessons in New York's Van Cortland Park. Not quite the stable of Arabian stallions he'd told Asar about in prison, but good enough that he was at no risk of tumbling off.

Hooves echoed between the rocks around them as they made their way through the pass in single file. Asar was right; it would have been difficult to negotiate the narrowing ravine in the truck.

"How much farther?" Harry asked.

"Half a day's ride, no more," said the teen. "We are home-free."

A voice came over a bullhorn, echoing through the canyon a half dozen times: "Stop. Put up your hands."

This is getting old,
X thought, sighing. The identity thief looked up. Guns were trained down on them from atop the ridges on either side. About 14 men. They wore the uniform of the ISI - the notoriously corrupt and brutal Pakistani security force.

Well, I suppose the good news is we've crossed into Pakistan.

Asar began to go for his rifle, but X grabbed his arm.

"There are too many of them, my young friend," he warned the teen.

"I am not afraid."

X shook his head. "Bravery without wisdom is not bravery."

The travelers tossed their rifles to the ground and held up their hands. A moment later, several of the Pakistanis had scrambled down the slopes and surrounded them. A few remained atop the ridge, still training weapons at them, with sweaty fingers on triggers. They seemed rather jittery to X and it was easy to imagine one of the barely legal young soldiers firing by accident.

Harry told the ISI troopers they were merchants returning from Afghanistan, having sold their wares, and once again the cover story fell flat.

The officer in charge, who identified himself as Captain Hesbani, raised his eyebrows with skepticism and ordered them searched. The Pakistani troopers didn't make the same mistake as the bandits. As well as frisking the men they brusquely searched Traci. She protested, to no avail, when Captain Hesbani personally slid his hand between her thighs.

"Aha!" he exclaimed as he produced the little handgun. "Is this for hunting mountain goats?"

"We're with the Warriors of Allah," Asar volunteered, proudly puffing up his chest. "Our weapons are for fighting the enemies of Islam."

Captain Hesbani expectorated noisily, just as the bandit boss had done.