Black Widow (30 page)

Ajza didn't speak.

"Poor Zamira." Maaret doubled over in pain. "She was so young. And to die like that? With a dog tearing the life from her?" She shook her head. "I never wanted that for her."

"I know."

Maaret wiped at her face. "I tried to die. I did. In December, before my baby was born, I tried to die. Taburova picked me to go into Moscow. I wore explosives. I was willing to die. Especially after I found out what my husband had done."

Ajza steeled herself to show no emotion. It was the most difficult thinsg she'd ever done. "What did your husband do?"

"He betrayed Taburova." Maaret gulped air. "He spied on Taburova. For the British. A few days before Taburova selected me to go into Moscow, Ilyas escaped."

Pain clawed at Ajza, tearing her heart apart. Tears blurred her eyes, but Maaret was so overcome with her own distress that she didn't notice. Ajza sipped air and pushed the emotion and confusion away. Images of her brother tumbled through her mind. She hoped she could always remember them all.

"If he escaped," Ajza whispered through her tight throat, hoping that Maaret only thought she was trying to be quiet, "how did he die?"

"He came back for me. For me and the baby. He found out that Taburova sent me into Moscow." Maaret shook her head. "I do not know how he found me that night, but he did."

Tracking device, Ajza thought. He was keeping watch over you. My brother would never have left you and his baby.

"He begged me to come away with him," Maaret went on. "I could not."

"Why?"

Maaret stared at her. "Because I am Chechen. Because I want my people to be free."

"Ilyas wanted you to be free."

"No." Maaret shook her head vehemently. "No. He was a traitor to my people. He was a traitor to our faith. He came to us, to Taburova, and won us over with his stories." Her lips stretched in silent pain for a time before she could speak again. "Taburova believed in him. I believed in him. I fell in
love
with him and married him." She put a hand to her head. "My God. I do not know how I could have done such a thing after I was sold to Taburova. I thought I was dead. I should have been dead."

"How did Ilyas die?"

"He took the explosives from me. I should not have let him, but I was feeling the baby kicking. I knew it was almost time for him to be born. He was so close to living." Maaret's face knotted in agony again. "I should not have been weak."

"Ilyas took the explosives," Ajza said in a quavering voice. "That was his decision."

"I know, but I should not have let him."

"You would not have been able to stop him." Ajza remembered how stubborn her brother could be. "It was his choice. Did he set off the explosives?"

"It was Taburova. He was watching. I did not think he was, but he was there. When Ilyas tried to get rid of the explosives, Taburova set them off."

"Taburova killed Ilyas."

Maaret nodded. "He told me... he told me that he knew Ilyas would be there. He said it was the only way to kill the traitor to our people."

The baby stirred restlessly and whimpered.

Maaret adjusted his blanket and held him close. "I came home the night after Ilyas died. I wished I had been the one to die. Then I went into labor. I prayed for God to take me then, because women who die in childbirth go to heaven no matter what sins they have committed. But I did not die. And my son was born." She traced his round face with her fingers. "Then I saw him and held him and smelled him, and I knew I would do whatever was in my power to take care of him."

"And you have," Ajza said.

Lifting her gaze, Maaret said, "That is why Taburova lets me live. As long as I have my son and I can protect him, Taburova knows I will do anything he says."

For a while Ajza sat there in the silence. She thought about Ilyas and the predicament his widow and son were in. And there was nothing she could do to get them out of it.

"I'm sorry," Ajza whispered a short time later.

But Maaret was asleep, her head lolling against the wall. Ajza eased the young woman down, realizing that they were sisters-in-law, and discovered Maaret was still burning up with fever.

She left the space long enough to get a bowl of water and a piece of cloth to use as a compress. Then she sat on the bed and gently laid Maaret's head in her lap. She bathed her head, praying that the fever would break and the woman would recover.

"Wake up!"

Someone kicked Ajza's foot. Pain shot up her leg and brought her to instant wakefulness. She started to roll away and rise in a defensive crouch, but Maaret's weight stopped her.

One of Taburova's men stood before her. He'd torn the curtain away and it pooled at his feet. He held a pistol. Behind him, another man was yelling at the women on the opposite side of the room.

"Get up," the guard ordered. "We have things to do today."

Ajza wanted to tell the man that Maaret was sick, that she needed to rest. Before she could, the woman on the other side of the room complained of being sick. The second guard kicked her and demanded that she get up.

The woman made an effort to stand, but only succeeded in vomiting on the guard's boots. Angrily the man reached down and jerked her to her feet. The woman stood for a moment, then swayed. Her knees buckled and she hit the floor.

Callously the guard aimed his pistol at her and pulled the trigger. The detonation woke Maaret's baby and made him cry. His frightened cries woke Maaret when the guard's rough voice had not. She reached for her child and pulled him close.

"This one was useless," the second guard said of the woman he'd killed.

The first guard nodded and turned back to Ajza and Maaret. "Get up." This time he pointed the pistol at them.

Ajza stood and helped Maaret to her feet. Fortunately the young woman's flesh felt much cooler. Her fever had broken.

"Is something wrong with her?" the guard demanded.

"She'll be fine," Ajza said. "She was up late last night, and the baby makes her tired."

"If she can't make it to Moscow," the guard threatened, "she will be shot where she falls."

The fragile hope that Ajza had nurtured all through the night vanished in a breath. She could only worry about what to do with her brother's widow and infant son.

She had no answers and time was up.

Ajza carried the baby down the mountainside. She was tired and worn-out from the past few days, and she took every step with care. The baby wasn't all that heavy, but he was still a burden.

Maaret was too weak to carry her son. At times, Ajza had to help the younger woman, as well. She feared that one of the guards would decide Maaret was moving too slowly and shoot her.

They went in single file. Taburova rode his pony down the mountainside without a problem, but several of the women slipped and fell. When they did, the men would beat them until they got to their feet again.

Just before they reached the flat ground, a convoy of old trucks rattled into view. The vehicles stopped at the foot of the mountain and waited.

When the women reached the trucks, the guards lined them up. Taburova rode his horse in front of them, sizing them up with his relentless gaze.

"The time has come," Taburova declared as he reined in his mount. "Tonight you will lay down your lives for Chechnya."

Ajza stared at the man and remembered how heroic he'd appeared that night on the mountainside when he'd killed Achmed. Now she knew that he was exactly what the files she'd read had told her he was: a cold-blooded murderer. It didn't matter that he wrapped a flag around his bloody work. Taburova lived to kill people.

Ajza stared at the trucks, wondering if the weapons she'd come looking for were stored in them. No. The weapons wouldn't be so easy to get to.

"Get on the trucks," Taburova ordered.

His men started shoving the women toward the trucks.

Ajza strode forward with the child still in her arms. Maaret held on to her elbow for support and stumbled along beside her. They climbed into a truck, and Ajza took a seat on the floor in the rear, her mind raced. There had to be a way out.

New York

Kate watched the mass exodus from the Black Widow camp then the convoy trundling along the dirt road, with alarm. According to the map she had access to, the nearest paved road was twenty miles away.

"They're not out for a Sunday drive," Jake commented.

"No, they're not. Do you think it's possible they've been tipped off that they're being watched?"

"Sure. But a guy like Taburova, do you think he'd try to sneak off in broad daylight?"

"No." Kate backed up the video recording until she saw Taburova talking to the women. Even from the view from the satellite, she recognized the man at once. "He'd kill everyone in the camp and disappear into the night."

"That's what I was thinking." Jake scratched his jaw. "That makes this a business trip."

Kate pulled up Sergei ProkhoroVs field reports. He and Viktor had managed to keep General Kumarin under surveillance. So far the general hadn't deviated from his routine duties. Room 59's intel unit was spot on with those.

"Taburova is hours away from Moscow at the rate he's traveling," Jake said. "There's time."

"Maybe," Kate replied, "but it feels like we're running out of it."

"We'll be ready. Unless there's a wrinkle we haven't spotted."

Kate massaged her tense neck muscles. "We always look for those, but they still manage to surprise."

She flicked through the file on Taburova and brought it up side by side with General Kumarin's. She had the definite feeling that she was missing something there. She didn't have the slightest clue what it was.

Moscow

"You need to relax and be patient."

"I
am
being patient," Sergei said irritably. He quietly drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel of the sedan.

Viktor sat in the passenger seat, as cool as if carved from ice. Over the last day, Sergei had seen the man sit like that for hours. All that moved were his eyes. He barely seemed to breathe.

Sergei went back to watching the parking lot of the government building where Yuri Kumarin kept a set of offices. They were only a few blocks from the Kremlin, where he usually worked.

The previous night, Sergei and Viktor had broken into the offices. In truth, Sergei had merely accompanied Viktor, while the latter had done the work. Sergei wasn't capable of the miracles the other man had worked with the elite security system in the building. He wondered if Mikhalkov would have been able to handle the system with as much finesse.

Viktor, by all accounts, was impressive.

Sergei glanced at the laptop computer between them. The monitor showed views of Kumarin's office. While they'd been inside, they'd installed the smallest video cameras and audio pickups that Sergei had ever seen. They were designed to access the building's Wi-Fi network and transmit to a satellite pickup Viktor had set up on the building's rooftop HVAC unit. Viktor was certain the monthly bug sweep that Kumarin had scheduled would find it, but that was still nine days away.

If nothing else, the one thing Sergei was certain of was that he wouldn't be able to wait another nine days. He felt that he'd be lucky to make it through another night.

"Something like this takes time," Viktor said.

"I know." Sergei hated that the man could read him so easily.

"We will be fine. Everything is going according to plan."

"To Kumarin's plan, maybe." Sergei tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but knew he failed when he saw Viktor smile. Which only made Sergei more irritated.

"You've made plans before?" Viktor asked.

"Of course."

"Remember how easy it was to have those plans upset? All it takes is one misstep." Viktor glanced reassuringly at Sergei. "You and I, tonight, are that misstep for Kumarin. You'll see."

"And if Kumarin chooses another night?"

Viktor shook his head. "Not another night. This one."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the buyer for the weapons is on his way to Moscow."

Sergei bit back a curse. "How long have you known this?"

Viktor shrugged. "A while."

"You could have told me."

"You have been worrying enough."

Sergei cursed. "You people have been withholding information from me."

"Perhaps." Then Viktor nodded. "A little."

"Why?"

Viktor pointed at the laptop and the images of Kumarin working at his desk. "Because we needed you focused on this man."

"Why haven't you simply picked up the buyer?"

"Like Kumarin, this other man is not easily caught. During the time that they're together, they should be slightly more vulnerable."

"And if they're not?"

"They will be. You must accept this."

Sergei wanted to shout in frustration, but he knew it would do no good. He breathed out and made himself be patient.

Then, on the laptop monitor, Kumarin put down the phone and got up from his desk. He grabbed his coat from a chair behind him and pulled it on. Calmly he took a pistol from the desk drawer, slipped the magazine out to check the load, then snapped it back into place and tucked it into a pancake holster at the small of his back. Another drawer yielded a smaller automatic in a holster, which he strapped to his right leg.

"This is not a man who trusts others," Viktor commented.

"No," Sergei agreed. This was the first time since they'd had Kumarin under surveillance that the man had strapped on the hideaway pistol.

"I think," Viktor said calmly, "that you are through waiting."

A sleek black limousine pulled up in front of the building and waited. After a short time, Kumarin appeared and climbed into the back.

When the car started forward, Sergei put the sedan in gear and eased out into the traffic in pursuit. His heart felt like a triphammer against his ribs.

Moscow

For a few minutes after the truck stopped, Ajza sat in the rear compartment in the dark. Slivers of light crept in from outside. The sounds of traffic and the frequent stops let her know they were in a city. Given the distance they'd driven, she felt certain it was Moscow.