The Libra Affair (22 page)

“I don't trust her.” Isbel flashed the gun at Sonya. But it was too late; Sonya had her own weapon pointed at the girl.

Jordan glanced over her shoulder. “Are you trying to make this difficult?” she said to Sonya.

“We don't have all night,” Sonya replied.

“See!” Isbel exclaimed. “You can't trust her.”

“Quiet, everyone. Just quiet.” Jordan motioned for everyone to stand down. One wrong move and they'd all be sitting in a pool of blood.

“Jordan,” Sonya said, “get her bag. It's in the corner.”

Isbel cried, “No!” then pulled on the trigger to her gun. When it didn't fire, she shook it wildly.

Jordan lunged forward before Isbel inadvertently released the safety. She grabbed the gun and swung around to face Sonya. “Sonya, put your gun down.”

Sonya ignored her and advanced further inside the room. “Get up, game's over,” she told the girl.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Isbel cried.

Ben stirred in the bed, then involuntarily struck his hand against the metal rail of the bed.

“Quiet down,” Jordan repeated.

“Jordan?” Ben said in a groggy voice. He wasn't able to open his eyes.

Jordan raised her hands to silence them.

Everyone quieted. When Ben drifted off to sleep, Isbel spoke first. “Baba said not to trust anyone.” Tears formed in her eyes.

“That's right, everyone except me … and her.” Jordan nodded toward Sonya.

Isbel looked up at Jordan, then shrugged. “I guess.”

“Stop quibbling with the girl and let's go, the both of you.” Sonya waved her gun.

“Come on,” Jordan said to Isbel. “You've got to get out of here. It's not safe.” She opened Isbel's bag and began inspecting the contents. When she didn't find what she was searching for, she faced the girl. “Where are my things?”

“I don't have them.”

“What do you mean you don't have them?”

“They're not here.”

“Isbel.” Jordan said sharply. “This game
is
over. I need my things now; where did you put them?”

“Not here.”

“You left them in the park, didn't you?”

Sonya spoke to Jordan in Russian. “Get the girl and I'll take care of her at the park. Or I shoot her here. You have two seconds to make up your mind.”

Jordan stared at the girl and spoke in Farsi. “I think you'd better come with us now. I'm afraid Ms. Roth has lost all patience. She's liable to put an end to our trip to Turkmenistan now.”

“She can't,” Isbel said. “You can't.”

“No, you're wrong, Isbel. She will, and another thing, if you haven't noticed already, I'm the only one standing between you and her, so you'd better make the right choice.”

Isbel straightened. “If you don't take me to Turkmenistan, you'll never get the rest of those numbers.”

Jordan stopped short. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” Isbel said. “The numbers. The codes.”

“I have everything I need.” Jordan glanced back at Sonya.

“No, you don't. You just think you do, but you don't. You don't have the correct numbers. And another thing, the panels are welded together, you can't get in … whatever that means. Baba said you'd know what that meant.”

Jordan whipped her head back around to face the girl. “What do you know about numbers and codes?”

“Everything.”

“If you don't tell me exactly what you know, I'll be the first to walk out that door and leave you behind to fend for yourself.”

“Baba said not to tell you until I was safe,” Isbel fought back.

Jordan looked at Sonya again, only this time she was seething with anger.

“Just sit there,” Jordan said to Isbel. Then she followed Sonya into the bathroom for a private discussion.

“I should have known,” Jordan spoke first.

“You leave us no choice,” Sonya replied. “You've got to call Fat Su to compare the codes.”

“That opens up everything,” Jordan said. “Which exposes not only me, but potentially everyone.”

“We can't let this op come down to some young girl who ought to be lying in a drainage ditch.”

“Will you come off it? We need the girl if she's telling the truth.”

“That's the million-dollar question.” Sonya glanced at herself in the mirror.

“Listen to me,” Jordan said. “We can't rule out whether the girl is telling the truth or lying.”

“Where are the codes?” Sonya asked. “Let's have a look.”

Jordan pointed to the side of her head. “Here.”

“Very good, Jordan.”

Jordan leaned back against the basin.

“So,” Sonya continued, “when you looked at the numbers, you must have checked the count.”

“I have the full strings,” Jordan said. “Or at least enough numbers to make the full count.

“So assuming the girl is telling the truth, it means
some
or
all
of the numbers are wrong.” Eyeing Jordan, she said, “Maybe the girl has the numbers written down somewhere. Possibly in her bag?”

Jordan shook her head no. “When I picked her up in Tehran, I went through her things. She's clean. All she's got are her clothes and meds. She's probably memorized whatever it is she needs to know.”

“There is one thing we can do to get the numbers out of her.”

Jordan knew exactly what she was getting at, but she wasn't ready to start down that road. “Look,” she said, “I'm confident I can get down to the control room. I can launch the missile from the computer system if I have time to run a break-code. I've got a flash drive with the algorithm. The only other way to go about it is manually. But if what Isbel says is true and the panels in the control room really are welded together, then accessing the electrical board is out — for the record, I have a hard time believing her. That brings me to the last possibility.”

Sonya's eyes widened. “A climb down the barrel is a death warrant, Jordan.”

“You got a better way to light the match?” Jordan stared into her eyes.

Sonya didn't argue. “You do what you have to,” was all she said.

Jordan continued. “We're not talking about a massive underground complex. It's only a single Atlas silo. There's a good chance I could get out before Libra starts smoking. It's possible. It's doable.”

“If you ask me, I think it's time to call Fat Su.”

“What if Fat Su only has a partial string of numbers? What if his numbers are wrong, too? We can't discount the possibility that Farrokh was holding out on everyone.” No way was Jordan going to call Fat Su. They both knew that, regardless of how much Sonya urged her to call.

Sonya quieted and looked at her reflection in the mirror again.

“If you ask me,” Jordan said, “Farrokh knew Fat Su marked him a liability. When he took that fall and mangled his left hand, he lost his job with Missile Defense Main — who needs a one-handed guy, right? So it makes sense the Chinese were getting rid of Farrokh, too. Why else would they have asked me to clean up?”

“Or they're making him a scapegoat.”

“That too.”

Sonya folded her arms.

“I think,” Jordan continued, “I can convince the girl to give me the numbers. We can't bring Fat Su into the mix. The Chinese have to believe everything is going according to plan. You know that. Otherwise, they'll figure out real quick they're being set-up and then everything we've been working for will backfire.” Jordan took a moment to judge Sonya's response. “Are we together on this?”

“I never thought I'd see the day when the Russians and Americans were working together to take apart China and everything comes down to some twit of a young stupid girl.” Sonya fumed with anger.

“I never thought I'd have to work a jigsaw puzzle to set off a missile.”

“The NSB never puts complete trust in any one person; that's why you're involved.”

“Here's what I'm thinking,” Jordan said. “Let me take the girl and we'll head toward Mashhad. I have a safe house where we can stay the night. We'll head to the city tomorrow, first thing. I should get there by midafternoon. I'll check into the hotel and stay in lockdown until launch time. Since the rocket doesn't fly until Monday — presuming there are no more delays, and everything remains on schedule from there — that gives me time to work the girl.”

“Which leaves only the question of your boy.”

“He's not going anywhere.”

“No, he isn't.” Sonya threw a hand to her hip. “You don't need to come back here. After Libra flies, you need to get out of the country.”

Jordan pulled away from the basin. “What are you proposing?”

“I'll stay with your boy.”

“You?”

“Yes, but only to make sure nothing stupid happens.”

Jordan stared into Sonya's eyes to judge her real intentions. If Sonya could ruthlessly kill a young girl, she'd have no qualms about taking out a grown man who'd seen too much.

“Don't worry,” Sonya told her. “When he's released, I'll get him to Ashgabat and on the first plane home.”

Jordan never expected Sonya to go this far.

“I won't harm him,” Sonya added.

“I wouldn't expect you to,” Jordan lied because she wasn't sure.

“He's safer with me than you.”

“Maybe you're right,” Jordan acquiesced. “But I could always come back for him.”

“I can handle this. I've got plenty of money to pay off the doctor before Tavaazo or anyone else gets to him.” Sonya folded her arms together again. “So stop worrying.”

“It's very generous of you, maybe too generous.”

“I'll put it on your tab.”

What choice did Jordan have? Her gut told her to go with it. But only because she believed that Snake must have had a hand in Sonya's plan.

“Any last words to the boy if you don't make it out?” Sonya's tone was sarcastic, despite her look of concern.

“How considerate of you.”

Sonya raised her chin and waited for a response.

“Just get him home,” Jordan returned. If she couldn't have Ben for herself, the least she could do was to make sure he got home alive.

A nurse stood at the door. “I'm sorry, ladies, the patient needs his rest. We only allow one guest to stay overnight,” she told them.

Jordan walked past Sonya and over to Isbel. “You and I are leaving,” she said to the girl. “Sonya is staying.”

“Just us?” the girl asked.

“Yes.”

The nurse raised Ben's arm to measure his pulse.

“Jordan?” Ben tried to speak.

She walked to the other side of the bed and drew near his face. With her cheek to his, Jordan spoke in a muffled whisper. “Just go with it, Ben. Don't talk. Whatever you do, stop talking, otherwise they'll figure out who you are.” Then she ran her fingers across his lips and watched as the nurse raised the blanket to check his bandages.

The nurse checked the fluids and changed a bag. Then looked over at Jordan. “Is he having much pain?” she asked her.

“Yes,” Jordan replied. “He's in pain,” and then she rubbed Ben's arm. She could see the pain in his face — the way he jutted his jaw and furrowed his brow. The man had little tolerance for pain.

A memory surfaced. The one when they were shooting hoops together last summer. She was ahead in the count, about to take him. Ben spun midair to block her shot and missed. Taking a hard fall, he did little more than pull a hamstring. But anyone watching would have thought he'd suffered an amputation. Jordan smiled inside, thinking back to that easier time. A time when all she'd had to do was to love him.

The nurse withdrew a syringe and administered pain medication in Ben's IV. Ben opened his eyes as if feeling the rush and reached for Jordan. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lips were dry and cracked. “Jordan.”

Jordan hushed him with a kiss.

“He'll be fine,” the nurse said to Jordan, then tucked the blanket around his body.

“Thank you,” was all Jordan could say; she felt so helpless.

After the nurse left the room, Ben clung to Jordan's arm. “Don't leave me,” he said.

“Rest,” Jordan whispered in his ear. “I want you to rest now. I promise you'll be fine,” and when his arm gently fell to the bed, she lifted her head, brushing her lips across his cheek as she repeated, “Soon. Very soon.”

• • •

On the ride back to the park, neither Jordan nor Isbel spoke.

The driver stopped next to the Samand.

“Come on,” Jordan said to the girl, then helped her out of the car. Once seated inside the Samand, Jordan faced the girl. Their eyes locked in a stare. “Where are my papers and guns? I want them
now
,” Jordan said to her.

“Everything's inside my pillowcase,” the girl confessed.

“Where is it?”

“See those two trees?” Isbel pointed to two large trees. “I set the pillowcase behind the first tree next to a rock. You can't miss it.” She sniveled. “I'm sorry.”

But Jordan wasn't about to let her off the hook, not yet. “Wait here,” she told the girl, then opened her door.

“I want that pillowcase,” Isbel said.

Jordan looked at her.

Tears fell from her eyes. “My grandmother embroidered it.”

“So we have a common goal,” was all Jordan said. Then she shut the car door and raced down the path toward the trees. It wasn't long before Jordan returned to the car, telling Isbel, “It's not there. Are you sure you put it there?”

“Yes, it has to be there.”

“Are you sure you have the correct set of trees?”

Isbel looked toward the trees. Then glanced to her right and back. “Yes. I think.”

“It's not a guessing game, Isbel. Now think, where did you put it?”