For a moment Sergei stood in the cold confines of the telephone booth. The chill ate into his bones, and he knew not all of it was from the weather. He thought about going to get a fresh cup of coffee, but he knew from experience that too much caffeine would keep him from sleeping any more that night.
But after the phone call he didn't think he'd be sleeping, anyway. He walked back for another cup and wondered how
He also wondered where the greater danger lay: in what Mikhalkov wasn't telling him? Or in what Room 59 wasn't telling him?
32
Lying flat on her stomach in the brush dotting the mountains overlooking the collection of ramshackle huts, Ajza concentrated on memorizing the layout and tried not to be sick as she gazed through the high-powered binoculars. Several armed men patrolled the perimeter. A few armed women patrolled with them. They treated the people they guarded with cold indifference.
'Not all of the women are captives,' Ivan whispered quietly beside her. 'A few of them have risen to positions of power within the terrorist hierarchy. Those women are the ones you see with assault rifles.'
'Taburova needs women who can take the other women into the cities.' The realization that the women sacrificed the others disgusted Ajza. 'He has to have guides to take the women to the places where they can do the most damage.'
'Exactly.' Ivan grinned, but the effort lacked mirth. 'Those women who betray the other women are the true
Ajza quietly agreed. The level of betrayal for such an operation was almost beyond her understanding. Only the fact that anyone would do anything if properly motivated made a believer of her.
The female captives in the camp looked emaciated and hopeless. A few lingered outside to smoke cigarettes and tend the communal fire. Others had retreated to the buildings, but they weren't safe there. The men entered the buildings at will and forced themselves on the women.
The thin, plaintive screams echoed in the foothills Ajza tried to ignore them, but they cut more deeply each time. She couldn't stop imagining how harshly the women were being treated.
'There is nothing you can do for those women at this point,' Ivan said.
Azja wanted to say that she knew that, but she found she couldn't speak. Her throat locked up.
'You are doing this as a means to help them,' Ivan said. 'It is more than many are doing.'
They watched in silence for a few more minutes.
'How long has this camp been here?' Ajza asked.
Ivan cocked his head to one side. 'Months. Perhaps longer. The gardens they have planted tell me it has been at least that long.'
'You haven't done anything to help them.' Ajza tried not to make her words sound like an accusation, but she knew she failed miserably.
'No,' Ivan agreed. 'I have not.'
'You have men.'
'I do, and there's not one of them who wouldn't put an end to this if it would do any good.'
'What do you mean?'
Ivan rubbed his whiskers with his fingers. The slight rasping barely reached Ajza's ears. 'Destroying this camp would only make these men move to another location. To do any good, we must cut off the head. I was told you were sent here to do that.' He nodded toward the camp. 'Knowing the location of this place makes these men vulnerable. And we can take pictures of the women being trained here. Once they are moved, if we can act quickly enough, they can be picked up before they carry explosives into the city.'
'How do you stop them?' Ajza asked.
'Sometimes we simply pick them up and relocate them. Unfortunately this is not always possible.'
Ajza looked at the man but didn't ask the question that preyed on her mind.
'When we have to,' Ivan said, 'we kill them before they are able to be used as human bombs.'
Another wave of sickness assaulted Ajza. She wondered about the trail of unmarked graves that undoubtedly wound through the hilly terrain.
'This is war,' Ivan stated quietly. 'Those women and the terrorists they represent don't reflect true Chechen nationalist interests. We are willing to fight for our freedom and trust that God will watch over us, but will not make war on innocents.'
'Those women are innocent,' Ajza said.
'Some of them, yes. And that is sad.'
Ajza turned her attention back to the field glasses and watched the site again. A door opened on one of the houses and a woman brought out a four-or five-year-old boy. Although she was too far away for Ajza to hear the conversation or read lips, it was apparent the woman had brought the small boy out to attend a call of nature.
'There are children here,' Ajza whispered. Although she'd seen the information in the files she'd received, the fact hadn't caught her attention.
'Sometimes,' Ivan replied. 'Many times the families of the dead husbands claim the children. Then they sell or give away the women. No one wants to support them. But a strong grandson? They hope that one day he might grow up to support them or die fighting the Russians as his father did.'
One of the guards approached the woman and the boy and yelled at her. She stood protectively in front of her son while he clung to her legs. The guard slapped the woman, rocking her head back, and she prostrated herself on the ground. After a final exchange, the guard walked away. The woman quieted her son, got him to finish his business, and herded him back into the building.
'Those children,' Ivan said, 'are another reason that attacking this place is difficult. It has been done in the past. Many women and children were killed. So you see the problem?'
Ajza nodded.
'Cut off the head of the snake,' Ivan repeated. 'That is what we must do. Then strike quickly before another head grows back.' He paused to study the terrorist camp a little longer. 'Come. You need to rest before we sell you to the slaver who deals with these men.'
Silently Ajza slipped back into the forest. Images of what might happen to her in the hands of the terrorists filled her mind. Her stomach knotted and her hands shook, but she made herself go on. The cache of weapons was en route now.
And, possibly, Ilyas's murderer was out there somewhere. That kept her going.
* * *
'Are you sure you are all right with this?' Ivan asked.
Ajza met the gruff man's gaze without flinching. 'I'm not happy about it.' She sat in the back of an ancient jeep as it trundled along a narrow mountain road.
The night made it impossible to see the depths that lay on the right side of the road. A hulking wall of stone filled the left side. The weak yellow headlights jarred constantly across the rough terrain.
Ivan shrugged. 'If we try to fake this, Achmed will see through the subterfuge. No good will come of that.'
'I know.' Keeping her voice to a monotone almost drained Ajza. She welcomed the exhaustion and used it to go numb.
Ivan hesitated. 'Once I leave you, you will be on your own. And you will be in dire straits.'
'I know that, too.' Ajza's voice tightened in her throat, but she didn't think it came out sounding that way. She hoped not.
'I do not like doing this.'
Ajza looked at the man, knowing he could call off the op at any moment. She wouldn't be able to proceed effectively without him.
'I will not dishonor you like that,' Ivan said. 'Your courage shames my own.'
'What you're doing,' Ajza said, then paused. 'I know it's hard. But you have to trust me. I'm good at what I
