The Puppetmasters (45 page)

The military officer spied the same young boy peering around his mother’s robes. He strode over and pulled the boy away from his mother. She was terrified and looked to the captain for mercy. He smiled at the boy and again knelt down. “Well, my little soldier, did you see the man and his camel after he went away?”

The boy slowly nodded and somberly pointed north toward the mountain range. He was rewarded with a pat on the head and given a piece of the hard candy
lur
from the captain’s pocket. The young boy did not want the candy, having just seen his beloved great grandfather killed, but he didn’t dare refuse it. He took it out of fear and ran back to his mother, hiding his face in her robes.

The captain wished them a safe journey, and the troops retraced their path to the route heading into the back side of the Band-e-Amir Lakes. The soldiers reorganized when Qadi ordered half of them to pack their gear and head into the mountains to follow Rashid and Kendall. He figured they had at least two hours of daylight before they needed to make camp for the night.

There were just enough troops remaining for each man to drive a vehicle back to the Band-e-Amir tourist area, where they were fortunate to spend the night at the hotel and eat a decent meal at the
chaikhana.

Captain Qadi made a call to General Omar’s headquarters and was pleased when the general praised him for such quick work in locating Rashid’s jeep and figuring out the direction and mode of transport. If the young officer kept this up, he would be receiving another promotion in no time.

Omar was in a great mood, and thought for the first time that it just might be possible that Rashid and Kendall would be dead by nightfall the next day. He had a celebratory drink … or two … and staggered to his newly renovated and enlarged opulent bedroom at the military base. It would take time to rebuild the palace, which was currently still undergoing razing and bulldozing to remove the offending charred ruins of the building.

It was morning, and Daniel Blumfeld sat in his room at an out-of-the-way bed-and-breakfast guest house on the outskirts of Toronto. It had been a long trip from SeaTac Airport to Toronto on this one-way ticket. He used the one false passport and driver’s license he had reserved for emergency purposes. Carrying thousands of Canadian and U.S. dollars, he paid cash for everything.

He made a deal with a used-car lot in a Toronto suburb to rent a broken-down but generally reliable car for several days. The amount he paid for the automobile was more than the car was worth. But the agreement was that the proprietor of the used car lot wouldn’t ask questions and accepted cash. As the
owner figured, if the mysterious guy never came back, he would file a stolen-car report and collect on the insurance.

Blumfeld made sure to throw in plenty of Canadian gestures and phrases complete with a smattering of French. On the long journey east, he memorized Canadian phrases and speech patterns, like “bunny hug” for “hoodies,” “whitener” for “non-dairy creamer,” referring to America as “The States,” “canteen” for a “small cafeteria,” “tea towel” for a “dish towel,” “shinny” for “hockey,” “vico” for “chocolate milk,” a “mickey” for a thirteen-ounce size, “loonie” for a Canadian dollar coin, and “toonie” for a two-dollar coin. The latter terms had come in handy, and he was using them constantly. Drinking
vico
was his new favorite, and he was always looking for the nearest
canteen.
He tried not to stand out, though, and simply blended in with his environment, speaking only when necessary.

He located a seedy-looking shop that sold used but working laptops and purchased several with cash, making sure they came with the correct network cables and multiple built-in ports. He assembled everything he needed and set up his operation in his room, planning to complete his mission and depart within twenty-four hours.

Daniel ate, slept a few hours, and then returned to his passion of tinkering with computers. He loved the thought that they could be invisible and untraceable. For the first time in his life he was at the top of the heap. He alone was working on this important project. He was the master and the boss on this assignment. He worked carefully and diligently as he built his anonymous barriers to impede any attempt to trace the source. False paths were established to send any Israeli technical investigator on a wild-goose chase. The account information was imaginative and in no way connected with Orion or himself. He refrained from using any cleverly hidden messages that contained cryptic clues that might lead back to him. This was serious business, and he could not afford any mistakes.

Finally, midway through the following day, his mission was complete. He checked and rechecked his steps. The moment had come. He activated the sequential key strokes and waited for the confirmation. Success! Daniel was pleased.

He packed up his things, being careful to wipe the hard drives and remove them for physical destruction. The laptops and accessories were dropped into a nearby Goodwill bin and wiped down of any trace evidence. The car was returned to the dealer a day early. The tired and noticeably boozed-up proprietor remembered nothing about him and merely accepted the keys and waved him off. He took a train from Toronto to Niagara Falls, where he transferred to a bus bound for Rochester International Airport. He flew from Rochester to DC and arrived back in Seattle.

Daniel spent the night at a hotel in Seattle. He planned to meet with the Orion CEO in the morning. Fields had made sure that Daniel’s hotel reservation in Seattle began a day earlier. Mickey checked in for him, providing a copy of Daniel’s driver’s license and credit card with the explanation that he was stuck in an executive meeting and would want to go straight to his room later. The hotel was used to the quirky demands of these high-tech company visitors and business associates. If contacted, the hotel would never remember the check-in sequence of events. It was all very ordinary and low key.

The exhausted traveler lay back on his bed overlooking Puget Sound to the west. The lights of the superferry
MV Puyallup
twinkled as it glided into the Seattle port. Daniel was exhausted and exhilarated. He ordered dinner and turned on the television to hear a breaking news report off the international wires.

R
ASHID AND KENDALL HAD BEEN
slowly climbing northward and camping for two days now. The journey had been relatively smooth, with enough to eat along the way and plenty of fresh spring water for them and their camel. It was midday, and they came out of a sub-alpine grove of poplar trees onto a steppe, or prairie of grassland dotted here and there with shrubs. They could see grazing sheep in the distance and a nomadic tribe of valley inhabitants encamped off to the side.

Kendall could sense Rashid’s hesitation. “What’s the problem, Rashid? Do we need to avoid these people?”

He shielded his eyes from the sun and frowned. “That’s not the problem. We’ve been keeping close to the tree line, using whatever we could as cover. But if we venture out into the open land here, we no longer have any protection or cover. If we go down there, we are basically joining the tribe. We have to blend in when we’re around them. They’ll provide us with the perfect cover. Also we can travel further on a route that’s more passable and direct if we stay out in the open.”

He turned to his right and pointed to the barren peak of the closest mountain. “We either walk over several mountain peaks or opt for the somewhat open valleys. The mountains are easily traveled, but don’t have a lot of trees, plus we’d run into wildlife.”

Her eyes widened, “Such as …?”

He laughed at her concern. “Oh the usual—a Siberian ibex or
markhor,
which is a wild goat. There are some brown and black bears and grey wolves.” He refrained from mentioning the spotted snow leopard that lived in the higher peaks in the summer. If he told Kendall those secretive carnivores actually stalked their prey, she’d probably never have a moment’s peace the rest of the way to Mazar-e-Sharif, not that she was having a lot of restful nights as it was. But he also knew it preyed on livestock when the food up high was not plentiful. Therefore, he reasoned, that damn killing machine could get them either way.

“Are you worried about helicopters spotting us out here in the open?”

“Exactly. We have yet to see one, but that just means Omar is two steps behind us. By now, if they stumbled on the jeep, they’ll know which way we’re heading.” He surveyed the sky in all directions. “I’m just about positive that we’ll see a helicopter or two today. Otherwise, the general really is an idiot.”

Kendall was immediately alarmed. “Wow! We either get eaten by wildlife or beheaded by Afghan troops. What a choice.”

Rashid hesitated and then decided that he may as well tell her the rest. “Uh, Kendall, that’s not all. There’s something else you need to know.”

“Wonderful! Now what: The meadow has poisonous snakes?”

“Well, no, but there are some other insects you need to avoid. But that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

“Tell me,” she begged.

“Afghanistan is a multi-cultural society. The nomadic tribes that wander these mountain ranges are all from different ethnic groups. Some might like us and others not. Various languages are spoken, and I may not be able to communicate with all of them. We’re going to have to go with the flow. If it looks like they aren’t friendly, we’ll move along very quickly. Another thing is that they’ll assume we’re married. In fact, anyone who crosses our path will assume that.”

“I already figured that.”

“Well, you’ll need to behave like a tribal woman. Keep your head and eyes down and stay behind me. Do not look about with curiosity. I’ve seen you do that.” He wagged his finger at her and continued. “That would be an open invitation for trouble.”

“I’ll be a dutiful wife, Rashid.” She rolled her eyes.

“If you’re not my wife, then you’d be my sister, in which case I’d find myself negotiating a marriage contract within an hour of our arrival. So, don’t think the marriage scenario is the worst that can happen.” He stroked his chin and with a twinkle in his eye, and said, “Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind having a horse.”

She glared at him but decided to shut up. This whole conversation was surreal.

Rashid moved forward, holding tightly to the camel’s lead, and Kendall dutifully followed. As they made their way down onto the pasture land of the steppe, she could see the sheep looked way different from the ones she had seen every year at the local Washington State Fair in Puyallup. When they got within a hundred yards of the animals, she couldn’t stand it anymore and pointed to the woolly creatures. “Rashid, what kind of sheep are those?”

He found her wonderment and curiosity funny and yet maddeningly exasperating. She obviously wasn’t going to let it go until she had an answer. But he was also pleased that she cared to learn something, which showed her intelligence and ability to quickly grasp new concepts.

Rashid stopped and yelled, “They’re called fat-tailed sheep. See their large tails?”

She yelled back. “I can see that. But the whole back end is larger than the ones I’ve seen.”

“They’re bigger and hardier to withstand the desert life.”

“What’s the deal with their tail?”

“It stores
allyah
or fat, as you know it. The fat’s used for cooking, but not as much now as in ancient times when that’s all they had. Now, there are other oils and fats.”

Kendall’s eyes wrinkled as she peered to get a closer look. “Is the wool the same as in the U.S.?”

“No. As a matter of fact, here it’s coarser and has colored fibers. It’s apparently of limited commercial value. The wool is primarily used for rug-making and blankets.”

She nodded in wonderment at the strange-looking beasts.

He patiently waited for any more questions. When none were forthcoming, he said, “Can we move on now?”

“Sorry, yeah.”

As they approached the tribal camp, an elder came out to greet them. Rashid was relieved to get a warm smile from the man. They were invited to stay for a meal and camp if they wished. Babar was unloaded and joined the other camels. Kendall had already bonded with the beast and worried about his treatment by the other camels or that he might pick up a disease. Rashid was more concerned that he wouldn’t be able to tell him apart, but soon saw the distinctive markings that Babar bore on his front legs.

Rashid was able to converse a little with the men of the tribe. He quickly learned they were
Pashtun
nomads and part of the overall
Kuchi
nomad tribe. So long as Rashid was not a local
Hazara,
he was in good stead with this transhumant group. He knew the
Hazara
people didn’t care for the nomads that grazed on the lands. The former claimed the exclusive rights over the ancient lands of their ancestors. These poor nomads were just trying to eke out a living however they could. But the
Hazaras
did have a point, that overgrazing and erosion was occurring solely because of the nomadic tribes.

Kendall was led to a covered area with the other women. They nodded shyly to her, and one woman grabbed her hand and led her to a rug where the women were eating and having their tea. She found the savory mutton stew with wild vegetables and
naan
bread delicious. She couldn’t understand anything the women said so just sat there nodding and smiling. The women were curious about her. Though she dressed somewhat like them, she had the air of a foreigner. They decided amongst themselves that she had been acquired for Rashid in some
sort of tribal exchange. They thought she was exotic and probably from Iran or maybe even India, though her skin looked more tan than permanently dark.