The Libra Affair (38 page)

“Sounds like you've got it all worked out,” Sonya said. “Okay, so come on,” she said to Ben, “we don't have all day.”

“I need two minutes before you leave,” Jordan said to her, then faced Ben. “We need to get you dressed in a uniform.” She looked at Farrokh, then cut her eyes toward the closed unit. “Farrokh, can you get the one without the crap all over it?”

He knew what she meant — to go get the uniform off the dead guy who wasn't covered in blood. It'd spare Ben from seeing the dead bodies and keep his mind straight before they drove into the desert.

Farrokh said, “Right,” and started toward the unit.

“I'll go get my car.” Sonya turned to leave.

Jordan looked at Ben. “Go put your bag in the Jeep. Farrokh will be right with you.”

“Are you sure it's necessary for me to change?” Ben asked.

Jordan stepped close to him. “You want to live through this?” When he nodded obligingly, she continued in a stern, uncompromising voice. “Then don't question my authority. Are we clear?”

“I'm just saying — ”

“Don't. Everyone falls in line and does
exactly
what I tell them to do, are we clear?”

“Yes, but — ”

“Good.”

“But I — ”

Jordan pointed due west toward the barren desert. “You see that over there? If you can't or won't follow my directions, then you might as well start marching and hope to hell you get across the border
without
getting shot.”

Ben backed down real quick. “Okay, he said. “I'm with you.”

Then she continued giving him orders as though their disagreement had never occurred. “After you drop your bag in the Jeep, wait for Farrokh. He'll bring the uniform to you. I'm going to back the Samand out of the unit.” Without another word, she turned and headed toward the car.

By the time Sonya drove back around the facility, Ben was already dressed and waiting at the wheel of the Samand. Sonya located a junkyard a couple blocks away, which allowed them to dispose of the Samand with little time wasted.

Back at the storage complex, Sonya stopped her vehicle and let Ben out of the car. The door to their unit was closed and a fire in the dumpster was burning the last of their trash, including the chairs, table, and makeshift shelf. There was no traceable sign that any of them had ever been there.

Ben headed toward the Jeep parked in front of the truck. Farrokh was waiting for him. Isbel was already inside the truck with Jordan sitting at the driver's seat.

Sonya walked to the truck and spoke to Jordan. “Good luck,” were her final words. Then she headed toward her car parked behind the truck.

Jordan faced Isbel. “I need you to be brave.”

“I will,” Isbel replied.

“Ready?” Jordan said to her.

“Let me wave goodbye to Sonya.”

“Make it quick.”

Isbel leaned her head out the window to wave goodbye.

“Sonya!” the child screamed. “He has a gun!”

Jordan grabbed her gun, cocked it, and leaned out the window. But it was too late, a man had Sonya by the neck with his gun pointed at her head.

Officer Tavaazo held the gun to Sonya's head.

“Move!” he said as he shoved Sonya forward.

Sonya dug in her heels and moved slowly against the weight of Tavaazo's body.

Jordan froze. She could take out Tavaazo, but it'd be too late for Sonya. He'd shoot her the second Jordan so much as flinched.

“Put your gun down or I shoot,” Tavaazo shouted to Jordan.

“What do you want?” Sonya said to the man.

“Justice,” he cried. “Now move.”

“You can't get away with this,” Sonya cried.

Tavaazo shouted at Jordan next. “Don't keep me waiting. Drop your gun.”

Jordan stared at the man. If she put down her gun, she knew she was as good as dead.

Farrokh rushed the scene. He stopped cold in his tracks.

“You, too,” Tavaazo shouted to Farrokh. “Throw your gun over here.”

Farrokh cast Jordan a horrified look.

“Do it now or I shoot,” Tavaazo demanded.

Any hope Jordan had that Farrokh would manage the situation was now destroyed. The only way out of this would be if she could get close enough to Tavaazo to kill him with her bare hands.

“Get out of the truck. Nice and slow,” Tavaazo said as he neared Jordan. “And you,” he spoke to Farrokh next, “get down on your knees, hands behind your head.”

Farrokh did as the man asked.

Without looking back, Jordan waved a subtle hand to Isbel to stay put, then she emerged from the truck.

“Get down,” Tavaazo said to her. “On your knees.”

Jordan lowered herself to her knees, but didn't dare take her eyes off the gun in his hand. The trigger was ready to snap at any second. Then she glimpsed into Sonya's eyes. Her tough exterior was shattered. The woman was frightened. They both knew what Tavaazo was capable of doing.

“What do you want, Tavaazo?” Jordan asked, trying anything to stall the man.

He let out a smug laugh. “What do I want,” he repeated her words. “I want you to tell me your name and what you're doing in my country.”

“It's too late for that,” Jordan replied.

“Who do you think you are talking to?” he spat back at her.

She didn't reply.

“Shut up and drop to your face.” He threw a pair of cuffs to Farrokh. “Cuff her,” Tavaazo said, nodding to Jordan.

Jordan held her position. “Don't,” she said to Farrokh.

“Now,” Tavaazo yelled.

“Jordan?” Farrokh looked helplessly at her.

“On my count of three, your friend here is finished,” Tavaazo said.

Farrokh took a step toward Jordan.

“One,” Tavaazo started. “Kick her to the ground. Now!”

“Two.”

Farrokh kicked Jordan to the ground.

“Cuff her,” Tavaazo said, revealing his pencil-thin smile.

Farrokh did as he was told.

Then Tavaazo threw Farrokh another set of cuffs and said, “Cuff the blonde.” Then he spoke to Sonya. “Hold out your hands, Ms. Roth.”

With the gun to her head, she did as he asked and Farrokh cuffed her.

“Now get back,” Tavaazo said to Farrokh.

Farrokh stepped back.

“Down on your knees.”

Farrokh obeyed.

“Now for you,” Tavaazo spoke to Farrokh. “Well, well, it seems I'm missing an extra set of cuffs. It looks like we'll have to harvest a pair from one of these women first.”

“What do you want from us?” Farrokh braved the words.

“Justice,” Tavaazo said. “Truth,” he added, but it was obvious the man wanted respect, something he was unable to earn.

“Sir, please,” Farrokh begged, clasping his hands together.

Tavaazo ignored him, and instead mused, “Which one shall it be?”

“We'll cooperate,” Farrokh stammered. “There's no reason to kill anyone.”

“Perhaps this one.” Tavaazo rammed the gun into the side of Sonya's head. “Yes. I think the other one will be more fun to keep around a little longer.” Tavaazo was ruthless, his expression sinister.

“No,” Farrokh tried. “Please. You're making a mistake.” He was desperate.

“What's wrong? Haven't you ever seen a dead body?” Tavaazo sneered at him.

“No,” Farrokh lied.

“Liar, you're all liars.”

“Sir, you're an officer of the law. What are you doing?” Farrokh asked.

“Bringing you to justice.”

“Please, this is all a mistake.”

“You'll enjoy watching these whores die. These dirty infidels.”

“Take me instead,” Farrokh said.

“One by one. You get to watch them scream, b-e-g, and plead.”

Sonya struggled.

“Stop!” Tavaazo shouted at her, ramming the gun into her head. They struggled more.

“You give me no choice,” Tavaazo cried. “Say goodbye.”

Then out of the blue, a shot rang out.

Sonya screamed.

Jordan cringed.

And Tavaazo dropped to the ground. Sonya toppled alongside him, hitting her head.

Ben stepped into the light. If there was such a thing as a smoking gun, he was holding it, although it hung at his side in defeat. His expression was grim but indomitable — Jordan knew a chunk of his soul was forever crushed.

Farrokh scrambled to his feet. He raced to Sonya. He dropped to her side and took her into his arms. “Sonya, Sonya,” he called her name, then patted her face.

Sonya was stunned.

Jordan slowly rose to her feet. She was both speechless and aghast as she searched Ben's face.

Ben stared into Jordan's eyes. Time seemed indefinable. His arm went limp. He dropped the gun. Then cut his eyes toward Tavaazo's body.

Jordan shook herself out of it and looked at the body. A pool of crimson surrounded Tavaazo's head. She hurried to the body and with one foot, she gave it a solid shove. Over it rolled. Tavaazo was dead. Ben's shot was clean, efficient, and rendered like a skilled marksman.

Jordan looked back at Ben. He hadn't moved an inch. She was flummoxed. He'd saved them. Sonya, her.

“You killed him,” Jordan said. There was a small quiver in her voice.

Ben nodded, unable to speak.

“You could have killed Sonya.”

“But I didn't,” he finally spoke.

“Ben?”

“And I wouldn't have.”

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“Deer hunting.”

“Deer hunting?” Jordan crooked her head to the side. She'd never known that part of him. He had never spoken of it. And even odder, Ben pulled the trigger when morally and ethically he didn't believe in killing, not beast or foe.

“I hated it,” Ben explained, “but I was good at it.”

“So why — ?” Jordan stopped. She didn't know what to say; her emotions were swirling within.

Ben answered her question. “My father made me do it, like everything else in my life.”

Jordan walked to Ben, stopped mere inches from his face, and looked deep into his eyes. “You had me from the first taste of beef barley. That first night we were together. When you asked, I just couldn't say it.” Her voice weakened. “I had no choice.”

Ben surrounded her in his arms and kissed her hard.

And as Jordan kissed him in return, she whispered to him, “I do, Ben. I do love you.”

“See how simple that was to say.” He smiled as he kissed her more.

Some moments later, Sonya regained consciousness. “Stop slapping me,” she cried to Farrokh. “Please.”

Farrokh hugged her. “Thank goodness, you're alive,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no. No, I'm just fine.” Sonya sounded indignant. “If you wouldn't mind, would you please help me up.”

“Yes, of course.”

Jordan pulled her lips from Ben's and glanced over her shoulder at Sonya and Farrokh. It was a peculiar sight to see that woman in Farrokh's arms, she thought. And Jordan couldn't help but wonder if Sonya was embarrassed by Farrokh's response to her well-being, or simply pleased. There was more to that story than Jordan cared to know, at least for now.

“Let me check on them,” she told Ben, then pulled away and walked to Sonya. “You okay?”

Sonya admitted, “A little dazed, but no worse for wear, as you Americans like to say.” Then Sonya glanced back at Farrokh. Her face flushed, but she quickly regained her composure. “Farrokh,” she said, “would you be so kind?” She held out her arms.

“Right.” Farrokh searched Tavaazo's pants for the keys to the handcuffs.

When the cuffs were freed, Sonya said, “
Spasiba
,” thanking him in her native tongue.

“
Khahesh Mikonam
,” he returned in his own language.

“Let me take care of Jordan,” he told her.

When she was free, Jordan nodded toward the body, and said, “Let's take care of this.”

Jordan faced Sonya who stood next to her. “You okay?” she asked her again.

“Yes, fine,” Sonya answered.

“I think we can manage it from here,” Jordan told her.

“Let me get the door for you,” Sonya said and walked with them to the unit.

When they finished with the body, Jordan spoke to everyone, “Okay, let's get going.” She looked longingly at Ben. When he nodded, she knew words weren't necessary. He had killed a dangerous man to save them and was risking his life all because he loved her. Just knowing this, Jordan suddenly found a new level of strength to get this job done so she could take Ben home — not
get
him home, but
take
him home to be with her, to meet Willoughby, and to have a life together that she'd never believed was possible.

Before turning to leave, Sonya spoke to Jordan. “I used an embassy card at the hotel. Tavaazo must have been looking for us.”

“I figured as much.” Unconcerned, Jordan shrugged. “That, or he just followed you.”

“I'm sure I would have seen him.” Sonya's voice fell as if she questioned herself.

“Maybe. He was a weasel, that man, and he might have been pretty good at staying covered.”

Sonya walked with Jordan to the truck.

“Thanks for everything,” Jordan said to her, keeping it brief.

“I'll take the girl,” Sonya finally said.

Puzzled, but not really surprised after what had just happened, Jordan asked, “Are you sure? You don't have to.”

“I said I'd take the girl,” Sonya said. “I'll drive her across the border.”

“Where to?” Jordan asked.

“I'll head south toward the preserve. I'll find a dirt road to cross over, and then meet you back at the airstrip in Serahs, Turkmenistan.”

“Why are you doing this? You don't have to.”

“Because I
don't
see that you have much of a chance.”