The Puppetmasters (37 page)

“Do you think we’re in danger here?”

“Actually, no. This is a tourist place. We have to go back towards Bamiyan in order to find another route to other cities. General Omar’s people should not
look for us here. It wouldn’t make sense. Unless someone recognizes us or we do something to stand out, we should be able to blend in.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like to bathe tomorrow?”

Kendall was momentarily confused. “Did you say bathe?”

“Yes. There is a women’s beach behind the tomb of the
Amir.
The tomb overlooks the largest lake. From what I understand, there is a structure half built into the water where women can bathe in private. If I take you there, you must wear the local dress.”

She nodded excitedly, “I know, I know … I need to blend in.”

They scrambled over the ground and after walking a few minutes, found some large boulders. He handed her the small flashlight, but wouldn’t let her turn it on until she was around the back side of the first large rock. She found that with the full moon, she didn’t need the flashlight after all.

They made their way back to the campsite, put out the last embers of the fire, and climbed in the tent. From the other side of the lake, they could hear singing and laughter.

They were both exhausted, with nerves frayed. But neither could sleep. Kendall could hear Rashid’s breathing and knew he was thinking of Poya.

“Rashid, are you okay?”

He sighed. “Yes, I’m thinking of Poya. He would have loved camping here.”

Because of the elevation, the nights were very cold. During the winter, the temperature could get as low as minus twenty degrees. Halfway through the night, they awoke to find a bright blinding light shining in their tent. Rashid opened his eyes to see a large leathery face with several missing teeth looming over him. The man was speaking
Pashto
and seemed to be yelling at Rashid. He reached into the tent and practically yanked Rashid out. He quickly stumbled out of the tent. Kendall hid her head and thought they were caught for sure.

The man grabbed Rashid’s arm and pulled it hard. Kendall was frozen with fear at all the commotion. She peeked out of the tent flap, and couldn’t tell if Rashid was leaving on his own or being dragged away by the man. She lay in the tent for hours, not daring to move, while voices could be heard shouting all around her. The tent was surrounded. She wasn’t actually sure she had been spotted when the man first poked his head into the tent. She was curled up next to Rashid, and the man might have thought Rashid was surrounded by blankets and other travel items.

The noises finally abated, and Kendall held her breath, wondering what she should do. She lay there for hours, waiting for the morning light. Suddenly, she could hear the thud of heavy footsteps approaching the tent. The tent flap was drawn back, and a tall figure in silhouette stood before her.

P
AUL
F
IELDS DIDN’T WANT TO
eat alone, so he had asked his small security staff to order for all of them. It was comforting to have noise and chatter around him as he enjoyed his sumptuous breakfast while looking down on the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean Sea below. He felt safe.

After breakfast, he asked Mickey to take him to the hospital to see his partner, Glenn Carson. He was feeling generous and gave his staff a few hours off to explore while he was gone. When Fields arrived, Carson was dressed in pajamas and robe and was walking about the corridor. Mrs. Carson was at his side. She looked exhausted. Fields immediately ordered her security guy to take her back to the hotel for some hot food and a nice long nap. Surprisingly, she didn’t protest too much. She was just so relieved that he was going to be fine, and that Fields and her husband had been rescued.

After she left, the doctor came in and announced that Carson could be released into a doctor’s care in twenty-four hours. He would be allowed to fly back to Seattle so long as he was seen by a doctor as soon as he arrived. The physician was particularly glad that Carson would be flying back in the company jet, a much more comfortable environment than a commercial jet. The latter would have been impossible.

Fields had a sudden idea that if he could get the U.S. and Israeli government officials to agree to it, Afghanistan doctor Maysah Siddra could attend to Carson on the plane. But that would involve a lot of red tape in a short period of time. Dr. Siddra was not in trouble. It was a matter of finding out if she wanted to go to Seattle, and getting the Israelis to release her. Fields walked Mickey out to the nearby waiting room and asked him to make a series of phone calls to the Israeli officials they had met the previous day and to round up the U.S. embassy official, State Department and intelligence officers who were waiting to speak with him. He would get the ball rolling.

The CFO got back into bed and looked very relieved. Fields paced about the hospital room for a few minutes at the foot of Carson’s bed.

“Paul, what is it?”

Fields didn’t beat about the bush. He closed the hospital room door. “Glenn, I’ve asked Daniel to use all his resources to find any news of Kendall.”

Carson’s face wrinkled up as he tried to recall her status. “Oh. We don’t know where she is?”

“No!”

“Paul, tell me again why she wasn’t rescued with us?”

Fields did his best to recount the facts.

“Was it just an unfortunate series of events, or was it purposeful?”

The CEO didn’t want to blame Glenn, and certainly didn’t want to make him feel personally responsible, but Kendall’s getting left behind was because the concern and focus was on getting the sick man into the chopper. He hedged, “Glenn, I don’t know. Why would it have been planned? Though the Israelis have suggested she was involved in the plot against the Shazebs.”

“Was she?”

Fields scoffed at the notion. “I can’t imagine it. She’s a corporate type, and a local girl to boot. I say no way.” He continued pacing and then whirled around and wagged a finger at Carson. “My guess is that by blaming her, it somehow helps Israel … probably by deflecting events away from them. That’s my theory.”

“The poor young lady. What she must be going through.”

Fields shook his head. “I can’t even think about that. You have no idea what those barbarians did every night in the courtyard of the military base just beyond our rooms.” He shuddered recalling the proceedings that replayed each evening. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the sound of those screams from my head.”

Carson looked as if he was going to relapse. Fields strode over to the side of the bed and patted his arm. “There, there. Don’t think about it. You just need to concentrate on resting today, so we can get the hell out of here and head home tomorrow.” Carson nodded and sank back into his bed.

Fields was ready to leave, and Mickey informed him that representatives from the U.S. State Department, U.S. embassy, intelligence, and Israeli officials would be coming to the hotel right after lunch. A conference room had been reserved. Fields was quiet on his way back to the hotel as he strategized about the meeting. He would control this meeting, not the Israelis or the U.S. officials. He would need to tread lightly, though, because the U.S. State Department was already irritated that he had given them the slip from the Israeli military base and ignored their phone calls earlier in the day. But he hadn’t been ready to meet with them yet. Now he was.

He almost hummed to himself. Things were going his way, and he was certain he would find out what happened to Kendall. He always felt better, more centered, when he was calling the shots.

Mickey was allowed to attend the conference that afternoon. True to his word, Fields marched into the conference room after everyone was seated and took command of the meeting. He got right to the point and laid out his plans. At first, the official from the State Department was taken aback. He explained that the Afghanistan doctor did not possess the proper papers and that she would need to be thoroughly checked out both to ascertain her motives and to ensure she had no ill intent toward U.S. citizens.

The Israeli operatives jumped in and said they were also conducting a background search on Dr. Siddra, and for the time being would be hosting her stay in Israel.

Fields allowed himself to get angry. He looked around at the group of men in their comfortable business suits appearing relaxed and satisfied with their respective lives. He stood up and barked, “Do I need to remind you what my colleague and I have been through?” He began to walk around the large conference table. “This woman, Dr. Siddra, helped take care of Glenn Carson when he was in a critical state. She was instrumental in keeping him alive! She agreed to put her life on the line, walk away from the comfortable world she had in Afghanistan, in order to help us. I don’t think there’s much dirt you will discover about Dr. Siddra. She’s a professional woman who cares about this world and knows she can do better in the West, particularly because she’s a woman. It’s as simple as that!”

One of the U.S. State Department men spoke up. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself, Sir?”

“How so?”

“Your loyalty is admirable, but we have—all of us around this table—have an obligation to our citizens to keep them safe.”

The State Department official jumped in, “Another thing is, you don’t even know if she wants to go to the U.S., or to Seattle, for that matter.”

Ever the CEO, Fields with hands on hips responded with, “As a matter of fact, I do. She told me on the rescue flight from Kabul how proud she was to help us, and that she hoped to go to America someday, where she had relatives living in Fremont, California. So, there you are. That’s her motive. And I say she deserves it. Let’s make it happen.”

Mickey cut in smoothly as planned. “Mr. Fields, doesn’t Fremont have the largest Afghan community in the U.S.?”

“Yes, Mickey, as a matter of fact it does. After ‘hosting’ her in Seattle while the State Department and Immigration and Customs Enforcement complete their comprehensive investigation, she could resettle in Fremont and live the life she desires.”

He was on a roll and his enthusiasm was bubbling. “Here’s my plan,
gentlemen. I will personally vouch for her character, and will pay all of her living expenses to put her up in Seattle, complete with a full-time guard or companion to help her assimilate into the Western culture. Mickey will help me set this all up. I’ll also pay all of her tuition to bring her education current to allow her to practice as a physician in the U.S. or whatever else she wants to do.”

Fields had slowly circled the table while he was speaking and was now back at his chair. He stood with feet wide apart and proclaimed, “I will assume the responsibility for and guarantee the assimilation of this young woman into her new life. That is my commitment to you.” He sat down.

No one said anything for a moment. Finally, the gentleman from the State Department said, “Well, you sure are going out on a limb for her. I know that you have money, but this would be a long-term project of sorts. It’s not something you could simply throw money at from time to time. You run a multinational Fortune 500 Company. For you to take on something of this nature doesn’t make sense. I’m wondering what your motive is, Mr. Fields.”

Paul Fields tried to sound as sincere as possible. “To be honest, I wondered that myself at first. I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining this seemingly harebrained scheme. But I’m not the same selfish, ruthless, greedy bastard that I was two months ago. I have several billion dollars in personal assets, and I am determined to do something decent with it before I die. This would be a great start at that pledge. Don’t you all agree?”

He looked around the room, making eye contact with every person at the table, and heads were nodding. Mickey tried to suppress the smile on his face. He admired his boss at that moment and had never been prouder.

The U.S. State Department official turned to his Israeli counterpart. “I don’t see why we couldn’t speed things along. What can I do to help make this happen?”

Fields clapped his hands together and stood up. “Gentlemen, why don’t you meet separately and work out the red tape. I need to make some phone calls.”

A sour-faced U.S. official who hadn’t uttered a word so far, suddenly held his hands up. “Hold it. Hold it, everybody.” He turned to Paul Fields and pointed accusingly at him. “We are not going to simply grant asylum and release this woman into your custody at your say-so.”

Fields was nonplussed, “And I don’t expect you to. Your Immigration people—or whoever you so designate—can accompany us back to the U.S. and work out the particulars with Washington, DC and the local office in Seattle. Once they are satisfied with the plans to monitor her activities and conduct a full investigation, then and only then should they release her to me or Mickey, my head of security.” He put his hand on Mickey’s broad shoulder, and the young man nodded in agreement.

“Fine. But I’ll be one of those on the plane back. I want to see for myself that everything’s on the up and up.” He seemed very put out.

Fields was growing tired of these paranoid government types who saw conspiracies and plots behind every good deed. Never mind that Fields had his own plans for Dr. Maysah Siddra.

The group split up, with the Israeli and U.S. State officials heading off to the nearby military base where Dr. Siddra was being temporarily housed under tight security. The plan had been to move her to the newly modernized, fortified refugee detention center for those seeking asylum, at the sand dunes complex in the Negev Desert. That facility had been built about eight years ago at the Ketziot Prison facility. Dr. Siddra’s status was currently an “Administrative Detainee.”

Israel would need to wrap up its debriefing of Maysah Siddra and assure itself that she knew next to nothing about the politics of Afghanistan, the government—or Shazeb—or any plans and schemes involving Israel. She had been speaking openly since arriving the day before, and had shown no guile or pretense. She did not appear to be sophisticated or worldly and seemed to be nothing more than a pawn.