'Do you think he found the weapons?'
'No. They were…well hidden.'
Mikhalkov asked, 'Who knew where they were?'
'Kirinov. General Kumarin. And me. No one…else.' Pasternak smiled. 'Of course…there is…the possibility…I was betrayed. After all…you found me.' The Mafiya man's head lolled to one side and his eyes stared without seeing.
Mikhalkov touched Pasternak's throat, then shook his head. He took the cigarette from Pasternak's lips and put it between his own. Then he struggled to get to his feet.
That was when Sergei saw the blood pouring down the old man's side. Mikhalkov managed two steps toward the door before he fell. Sergei caught him in his arms and gently lowered him to the floor, holding him as he would a child. He placed his hand over the wound in the old man's side.
Movement at the door caught Sergei's eye. He felt a surge of panic.
A young man peeked around the frame, showing only one eye and part of a terrified expression.
'Help,' Sergei said. 'I need help. Get help
41
When Ajza stepped from the building, a guard cursed at her and told her to get back. She started to retreat, knowing she couldn't point out to the man that Taburova had told her to report to him without getting beaten. Luckily the other guard knew she was supposed to see Taburova.
'Go ahead,' the second guard said. 'He wishes to speak with you.'
As Ajza crossed the distance to the building she'd seen Taburova enter, she felt the men's hungry and hateful eyes on her. Their faces showed that they suspected Taburova's interests were sexual and some of them resented his power over them, as well as his protection of her. Many of the men were more wolves than patriots. Anxiety knotted Ajza's stomach as she glanced at the building where the horses were kept. If she could get one of them, she had a chance.
The guard watching the door to Taburova's building stopped her with a raised hand. She stood looking down at the ground. Even though she couldn't see the man, she watched his shadow so she could see what he did and react to any attack.
The guard knocked on the door. Taburova told him to enter. The guard announced Ajza's presence and Taburova told him to let her in.
Taburova's building wasn't much different from the other one Ajza had seen. There was no furniture, only a loose gathering of ammunition and food crates, used to keep supplies. Taburova used one of the crates as a chair while he spoke on a satellite phone.
Covering the mouthpiece with a big hand, Taburova said, 'Sit.'
With nothing to sit on but the floor, Ajza sat against the wall about ten feet away and crossed her legs. After a moment of listening to Taburova's infrequent responses, mostly in the negative, she identified a rhythmic thumping in the background. She guessed there was a generator somewhere below or in back of the building. They had access to electric power.
She heard Taburova give a few orders to whomever he was talking to and finished the call. Then he closed the phone, shoved it into a pocket and regarded her wordlessly for a time.
'You were very brave facing Achmed,' he said at last.
Ajza remained silent, then realized he was waiting for her to speak. 'I was scared, not brave.'
'You took Achmed prisoner.'
'He would have raped me and killed me. I will not live like that.'
Taburova got up from behind the desk and stood gazing out the window. 'I will not lie to you. Most of the women at this camp have been abused. Or made dependent on drugs.'
As she watched the big man, Ajza's dislike and fear of him increased. But she kept remembering how he had looked astride the horse when he'd ridden into Achmed's camp and defused the situation there. He had looked like a hero, not a terrorist.
'I have not done these things to the women.' Taburova turned to face her and shrugged. 'It's true that I have been harsh with some of them. Too many are weak and find it easy to beg for their lives. They disgust me. They are widows of soldiers who gave their blood to free this country. They shame and dishonor the memories of their husbands.' He smiled as he looked at Ajza. 'But every now and again, I find one such as you who lives only to strike against our enemies.'
Ajza sat quietly. She listened to his words and thought that he believed everything he was telling her. Of course, what he was telling her was that she should die for him at a time of his choosing.
'I gave you your life up in the mountains, Ajza,' Taburova said. 'I can still give you your life.'
'My husband is dead,' Ajza replied. She tapped into some of the pain that still resided in her heart at Ilyas's death. She borrowed those feelings of loss and confusion and made the moment real again. Tears filled her eyes and tracked down her cheeks. 'I have no life. There is nothing I want.'
'You still live,' Taburova said. 'You are young enough to continue living.'
'As a slave to my husband's family? In subjugation at a brothel?' Ajza shook her head. 'No. That is not living. That is not the life my husband promised me when I became his.'
'If you had truly wanted to die, you could have simply released that grenade up in the mountains.' Taburova's dark eye gleamed.
'My heart is dead.'
'If so, you would not grieve.' Taburova shook his head. 'Some part of you still lives, Ajza. You should treasure that feeling.'
'It shames me.' Coming so easily, the response surprised Ajza. Even though she hadn't grown up in Chechnya, many of the elderly women in Leicester and London lived by the old beliefs. She herself did not, but it was easy enough to emulate.
'Perhaps it is God's way of telling you that you are not yet done. There is much you can do here.' Taburova gazed back out the window. 'Most of those women out there have no will of their own. No conviction. They have only fear. And I give that to them to be a source of strength. Without fear, they would have nothing.' He paused. 'That would be a terrible thing. To go through life so empty. Can you imagine something like that?'
'Not until the death of my husband,' Ajza replied.
'Then let me give you something else,' Taburova said. 'For a little while.'
Ajza waited.
'Put off your death for a time. Until you feel ready to avenge your husband. Come willingly into this camp and become a
Ajza waited. She let herself fill with all the sadness Ilyas's death had left with her. The feelings of a woman like the one she now played would be different, but the emotions had enough in common that she felt her portrayal was accurate.
'To avenge my husband, I will do as you say.' Ajza knew there was no other answer she could give that would satisfy Taburova.
'Good.' He extended his hand. 'I have need of you, Ajza. Not many women like you are left to Chechnya.'
For a moment Ajza worried that Taburova was baiting her, that he already knew she was there on a mission and intended to kill her within the next handful of seconds. She braced herself as she took his hand.
'Do not tremble,' Taburova said gently as he pulled her to her feet. 'You have nothing to fear from me.' He raised his voice. 'Maaret.'
A slim woman entered from another room. She wore black clothing and covered her head in the Muslim tradition.
'Take care of this one,' Taburova said. 'She is the one I told you about.'
