The Puppetmasters (6 page)

Mickey felt a huge weight on his shoulders. He could only stall for so long. “By close of business tomorrow, the board of directors will need to know what’s going on. I’m not stalling any longer than tomorrow at 5:00 p.m.”

Zanders was really getting irritated. “Fine! I don’t think we could keep it quiet beyond that anyway. There are already too many people in the loop. Later!”

They rang off, and Mickey steeled himself for battle. This was not what he had signed on for. This had all the hallmark of an international element. There was definitely something cloak-and-dagger going on. Just how far reaching was it? Or had they let their imaginations run wild when it was nothing more than a simple mechanical failure? That too, could be a catastrophic event for the company.

He sighed, grabbed his leather jacket and keys, and strode out the door toward the elevator that would take him to his oversized black SUV. He stopped at security and advised them in as nonchalant a tone as possible that the executives’ travel plans had changed. The security team could stand down, and no one needed to meet the plane at Boeing Field. Mickey had never lied like this before, and he felt slightly sick as he began to realize the enormity of the situation.

He drove out of the company building on Lake Union and merged onto Interstate 5, heading north. After less than a mile, he merged onto 520 eastbound. Fortunately, both executives lived within two miles of each other in the exclusive waterfront community of Hunts Point. He arrived at the Fields estate and parked in the garage off to the side of the main house. He headed to the elegant Mediterranean-style house and stepped up to the colonnade leading to the ornately carved double entry doors. He stared at the elaborate carving that spanned the matching mahogany doors and with a heavy heart finally lifted his arm and pushed the doorbell, which was offset to the side.

For a moment he got a perverse sense of pleasure from hearing the custom chimes of the doorbell. That was the only feature he had ever liked about this monstrosity of a house. When the chimes stopped playing, and the sound of approaching footsteps brought him out of his reverie, Mickey prepared himself for the coming scene.

K
ENDALL AWOKE WITH A START
when her door was abruptly and violently flung open. It banged against the wall in a crash. She looked around in the dim light—startled and unable to grasp her surroundings.
I must be dreaming. Good Lord, please make this a dream!
A man accompanied by two soldiers set a tray of food on the small table near her bed and told her—in broken English—that she had thirty minutes to eat, shower, and get dressed to leave. She perked up when she saw a toothbrush and some unknown brand of toothpaste on the tray.
Thank God … they are civilized!
She couldn’t tell if it was new and wouldn’t allow herself to go there.

She flew into action and choked down the round sweet flatbread or
Roht …
the local breakfast fare. It came with a small bowl of thick plain yogurt, apricots, and more
Chai
tea.
I hope I don’t get sick!
She was in and out of the shower in five minutes, pausing a bit longer to smell the fragrant shampoo.
Hmm … smells like pomegranate.
The bar soap in the shower looked old and dirty. Kendall was thoroughly grossed out but used it anyway, desperately scraping off the outer layer of dirt and sweat with her fingernails. When half an hour had passed, Kendall was pacing the floor while running her fingers through her hair, trying to both dry and comb it. She had put on the ill-fitting clothes and looked quite lost in the oversized garments. At least the jeans fit her just enough so as not to fall off.

Precisely at thirty minutes, the door was pushed open, and the same man who brought the tray walked in a few feet, looking at the empty plate and then to Kendall. He appraised her wet hair and pointed to the
hijab.
“You will wear
hijab
like all Afghanistan women when you go out. Put it on now! Hurry!”

She quickly picked it up and pulled it over her head and shoulders. The fit was snug and completely masked her wet hair. In fact, it covered every inch of her shoulder-length hair.

Kendall was led to a large room that looked to be a conference room of sorts. Fields and Carson were already there, trying not to look anxious.
Fields frowned when he saw her, and Carson looked guilty. She caught both expressions, and had the distinct impression they knew what all of this was about. Carson wondered if he should ask that she be set free. But he was afraid they would use her as a bargaining chip or, worse, dispose of her altogether. To be safe, for the time being he decided to say nothing.

The three were escorted by General Faisal Omar to an awaiting, much-used military transport truck. As they climbed into the large, jeep-like truck, Kendall quickly looked around at the compound they were at. She saw they had stayed in a building that was surrounded on all sides by identical long rectangular barracks constructed of concrete and rebar. The whole look was that of a utilitarian environment. No attempt was made to adorn or even soften the surroundings. Strangely, the place was quiet. She had no idea that the presence of the three Americans was known only to a handful of people at the base. Most of the ordinary soldiers had been dispatched to the training areas outside the base.

The Afghan people didn’t dislike Americans. But they didn’t embrace or welcome them either. They were relieved when the American military finally exited the country years ago. The western world contractors and their big business plans followed a short while later, after some strategic localized bombings that helped incentivize them. Hope for their billion-dollar enterprises was long forgotten in the rush to save their collective asses.

The group drove for about five miles under a cloudless, blue sky ringed in the distance with rugged mountains devoid of trees. They entered a stone archway. An impressive twelve-foot-high security gate gave the feeling of a place of great import. All three Americans were nervous.

Kendall was in awe of the strange and foreboding complex they’d just entered. It was clear that someone important lived here. After a short drive down an olive-tree-lined road, their vehicle rounded a bend. All three Americans gave a collective gasp. An enormous building that could only be described as a palace stood on a hill directly in front of them. The austere, stone monolith-like structure seemed to radiate an intense stare, as if to glean every last hidden thought from them.

As they pulled up to the front of the huge formation, Paul Fields turned his head, pretending to look around. When his mouth was inches from Glenn Carson’s ear, he quietly whispered, “You know nothing.” Carson was relieved that he could deny everything, but that meant the whole burden was on Fields’ shoulders. As loyal as he was to his childhood buddy, Carson wasn’t going down for this. He didn’t have the technical know-how and had never been part of the research and development process. The remarkable but evil contrivance was not his brainchild.

T
HE VEHICLE CAME TO A
stop, and General Omar disembarked. His driver came around the back of the truck and opened the backdoor. General Omar looked at the three seated “guests” and commanded, “You will get out now and follow me!” The three passengers scrambled out of the truck and reluctantly followed the general up the stairs and into the building. Columned marble lined the walls, and twinkling chandeliers hung throughout the interior.

The assemblage made their way up a side stairwell, down a hallway, and into a large oval room. Fields found the attempt to replicate the Oval Office in the White House quite amusing. He suppressed a smile by looking down and pressing his lips together.

The room was very large. Suddenly, a door at the back opened, and a tall male in
Kabuli
attire, complete with
qaraqul
hat made from the fur of an aborted Persian lamb fetus, strode into the room. His piercing brown eyes were unfriendly and flashed with anger.

Behind him at a careful distance came two dark-haired, mustachioed young men, obviously brothers. One was of average height with a bulky physique. The other was slightly taller and more muscular. The shorter man’s face held a sneer, and there was a decided cruelness about his mouth.

Kendall was surprised that the young men wore western blue jeans. Both men were conversant in English, while the older man’s English was only passable. She figured the young men were in their early thirties. From the fearful looks they cast at the older man, she concluded they were his sons.

In deference, or perhaps sheer terror, General Omar stepped to the side of the “guests” and away from the older man, who now directed his gaze at the military officer.

“I am pleased, General Omar. You have done what I ordered.”

The general looked relieved that he would be keeping his head for the time being and bowed. “President Shazeb, may I present our guests. Paul Fields, CEO
of Orion Premier Net Services, Glenn Carson, CFO of Orion, and Kendall Radcliffe, director of operations at Orion.”

At the mention of Kendall’s name, the president walked slowly and determinedly to Kendall with his arms behind his back. “I must say, I was not expecting three Orion employees. And a female at that.” He clasped his hands together in the front. “This is going to work nicely into my plans. I shall have better control of all of you, and I am sure your company will work extra hard to search for you and bring you back.” His eyes roamed Kendall’s body and gave her a decidedly creepy feeling. She almost wished she was wearing the full floor-length
burka.
He then walked a short distance in front of the trio, turned, and addressed them as a group.

Throwing his head back and in a haughty manner, he declared, “Let me introduce myself. I am Mujtaba Shazeb, President of Afghanistan. You are all here as my guests. My people will be speaking with each of you separately to determine who is the most knowledgeable about our issue. You see, we are having technical concerns regarding private matters of Afghanistan. Since we are using several of your services and devices, our technical experts have concluded that the issue is with your products. It is so serious that it is affecting the operation and the very well being of our beloved country. We will talk about this more a little later.”

He looked over to the younger men and inclined his head. “These are my sons, Saaqib Waqas and Ahmad Akeem. You will see them every day during your visit. Saaqib is my oldest and is very smart with computers. He is in charge of the technology division in my administration and has designed and configured all of our computers and networks.”

Saaqib glared at the trio, nodded his head, and directed a pointed stare at Kendall. She gulped. Shazeb continued. “You will not fool Saaqib, so don’t even start with the lies.”

With a twinkle in his eyes, he said, “Saaqib Waqas means star warrior in Arabic. He is a mighty soldier and knows how to get to the truth. Don’t push him.”

He pointed to his younger son, the taller of the two, and with warm affection, stated, “Ahmad Akeem is in charge of my security forces. He is a strong and athletic soldier. Most importantly, he is wise. Do not underestimate him.” The younger son did not move or acknowledge them.

Paul Fields was prevaricating on how far he could push the Afghans. He decided on one small attempt and cleared his throat. “President Shazeb, we do not understand why we are here. Mr. Carson and I merely run Orion. We do not do any of the day-to-day technical work. Ms. Radcliffe simply administers
the business practices by the most efficient means. We are business people, not technology wizards.”

President Shazeb stalked over to Fields, wagged his finger, and roared, “Enough! Do not treat me like an idiot! I have seen your impressive résumé, and I know what you are capable of. Now, if you lie to me again, it will not be without consequence. I may decide to remove one of your fingers or have you flogged.”

He then turned to his son, Saaqib. “You will take Paul Fields to your department and show him what is happening to Afghanistan’s property. Persuade him to work with you to determine the source of the technical issues. Do not inflict bodily harm on him just yet. You must check with me first. We should treat them as our guests for the moment.”

The president caught Kendall’s thoughtful look and said, “Ah, you do not understand why the more physical of my two sons is not in charge of my security forces? That is very observant of you. You see, I found that while Saaqib is the stricter disciplinarian, he often loses his head and orders immediate punishment, usually severe. With Saaqib in charge, the military was always in need of replacements. He’s a bit too enthusiastic, shall we say.” He gave a disgustingly loud laugh at his own joke.

“Besides, Saaqib’s true strength is in computer science. For some reason, it calms him.”

The back door suddenly opened, and a tall, rugged-looking man with a careful gaze stepped in, followed by a woman wearing a full
hijab.
The woman quickly looked around, spotted Kendall, and moved to her side, quietly awaiting further orders.