Private Wars

is one warm body who knows what he’s doing with a rifle and her brother is a thing of the past. He’s planning on staying in Mazar-i-Sharif until we reach him with his son. Kostum’s supposed to ride out with me in his stead.”

Chace chewed her lower lip for a moment. “I don’t like it.”

“Didn’t think you would, but I’ve been trying to convince him to change his mind since he informed me of the decision when he got into town last night, and he won’t budge.”

“Where is he now?”

“With Kostum and some fourteen of Kostum’s men, holed up in a house about twenty minutes from the FSB. You want me to, I can bring him back here, you can try to talk to him.”

“That’ll take you an hour, at least.”

“And he may not come. He’s twitched, Tara. He’s certain Sevara has it in for him.”

Chace cursed softly, then said, “Right, can’t be helped. But he needs to be ready to move as soon as we hit town. And you’ll need to arrange transport to and from the Afghan side of the bridge.”

“Already taken care of it.”

“You’ll need a radio from the FSB as well.” Chace gave him the frequency and the call signs, and Lankford repeated the information without comment.

“I’ll contact you as soon as we’re in position.” The line crackled slightly, whispering static into Chace’s ear as Lankford took a moment. “And the other factor that’s now in play?”

“He’s been given a nudge in the right direction.”

“Risky.”

You don’t know the half of it, Chace thought. “Too late to turn back now.”

“Understood. See you tomorrow.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Chace replied.

CHAPTER 44

Uzbekistan—Surkhan Darya Province—Termez

29 August, 0319 Hours (GMT+5:00)

Zahidov held a handkerchief to his mouth, then checked the white cloth, seeing spots of blood mixed in with his saliva. His gums were still leaking, raw to the touch of his tongue, raw like the rest of him. It gave him resolve, made him all the more certain of what he had to do.

Not for her any longer. This was for him now.

Captain Oleg Arkitov was watching him with both suspicion and concern. “Tell me again?”

“One helicopter and a pilot, that’s all I need. Everything else, I’ve already taken care of it. But I need the pilot and the helicopter quickly, Captain, I must be in position before dawn.”

“And at dawn—”

“It may not be at dawn, but I think soon after, certainly before noon. Then I do what I have been sent here to do, and your pilot, he takes me in the helicopter east, drops me in Tajikistan. Then he returns to you. That’s all.”

“I am hesitant, Ahtam.” The yellow light shining from the ceiling of the captain’s office made Arkitov’s expression seem even more troubled, his frown more profound. “Even if everything is as you say, it puts my pilot at great risk.”

“My risk is far greater, Oleg. This is for our country. I’m appealing to you as a patriot.”

“So you have said.” Captain Arkitov motioned to the radio resting on the shelf beside the door. “But you can’t be here officially, Ahtam, the President replaced you this morning with her husband. It was on the radio.”

“I’ve explained that she needs to preserve her deniability.” Zahidov ran his handkerchief across his mouth a second time. “That’s why she did it. You know the President’s relationship with me, how close she and I are. Think about it.”

“I had heard you were no longer as close as you had been.”

“The President of Uzbekistan must be discreet.”

Arkitov nodded slightly, accepting that. “But if what you’re telling me is true, Ahtam, why haven’t I received orders from my superiors? Or from the President herself?”

“Deniability. The fewer who know about this, the better.”

“But surely, after it’s done, the whole world will know. You’ll be a wanted man.”

“Which is why your pilot must take me to Tajikistan. You see how I look?” Zahidov indicated the bruises on his face, his injuries. “I had these wounds done to me by my own men, Oleg, to build my cover. If I am willing to lose my front teeth for this, you think I would not sacrifice even more for our country’s future?”

Arkitov studied him, and Zahidov knew he was marking all of his many bruises and cuts and scrapes, and he tried to keep anything from his expression that might betray him.

“No, you are a patriot, Ahtam, you always have been,” Arkitov agreed. “I accept that, I accept what you are telling me.”

“Then you know what I need. We must get moving, I don’t have much time.”

Zahidov rose from his chair, stopped as he realized that Arkitov had made no move to follow.

“I don’t have much time, Oleg,” Zahidov repeated.

“Yes, I understand that. And I understand that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for this, that Uzbekistan’s future is more important than your own. But I now must think about mine, Ahtam. If I do this, I will be blamed, accused of aiding and abetting you.”

“You do this for your country.”

“No, you do this for your country. I need more.”

“You don’t deserve that uniform,” Zahidov spat, furious.

“Perhaps not, but I am the one wearing it, and you, as you have said twice already, do not have much time.”

“How much do you want?”

“For this? For an act that will end my career and possibly shame me and my family? A million American dollars, I think.”

“I don’t have a million dollars.”

“Of course you do. Just wire one of your banks in Switzerland or the Cayman Islands to transfer the cash to my account.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

Arkitov folded his hands across his stomach, then stared patiently at Zahidov. “I do.”

Zahidov swore, thought about killing the man right there, where he sat, but knew that if he did, he would never get what he needed. And the money, he would need the money if he was to run and to stay hidden, he would