Blowback (8 page)

Close to midnight,
Vanessa turned the last corner, winding down her five-mile run. She pulled up short. A battered, dusty Mercedes sat parked in front of 21B; a disheveled, dark-haired man leaned against it, smoking a cigarette. Yassi had arrived sometime in the last forty minutes, during the one window Vanessa had taken to run off some of the nervous tension after a day of hurry-up-and-wait.

She crossed the last twenty meters to the house at a dead sprint and entered breathing hard, and doing her best to wipe the sweat from her face with the sleeve of her
IAB-Turkey
T-shirt.

The COS was waiting by the front door. “They just got here.” He tipped his head, indicating the disheveled woman standing just inside the living room. Even at close range, Vanessa didn't immediately recognize Yassi Farah.

Then she did—an older, weary Yassi.

Vanessa shot the COS a pointed look. After hesitating, Hamm nodded. “If you need me, I'll be outside,” he said, leaving the women alone with each other.

“I'm so glad you made it safely,” Vanessa said, assessing even as she moved to greet Yassi. But she stopped when a wide-eyed child peeked out from behind Yassi's back. Vanessa knelt down. “You must be Zari.”

The child didn't smile or respond, and she disappeared again, a tiny rabbit ducking to safety.

“She won't let go of me,” Yassi said wearily.

And now the two women touched cheeks, but it was a greeting without warmth, without real emotion.

Vanessa found herself hoping to see a glimmer of outrage and defiance, the spark she'd seen often in Yassi's eyes. “You must be hungry, and I have—”

“I need a cup of very black tea with lots of honey,” Yassi said.

“We have coffee, if you'd prefer it.”

“Tea is better.” Yassi pressed a hand to her belly.

“I just have to heat the water.” Vanessa switched on the gas flame beneath the already filled kettle and then she gestured to the chairs around the kitchen table.

Yassi nodded but almost immediately shook her head. “The bathroom—” Her eyes widened, and she clapped her hand abruptly to her mouth.

Vanessa pointed, urging her toward the small hallway. “First door on the left.” She barely finished the sentence as Yassi hurried inside, closing the door behind her.

Putting her concern on hold, Vanessa caught Zari gently, guiding the startled child toward the counter and a small blue case. “I have something just for you,” she said, smiling encouragingly, handing her the case. “Shall I help you open it?”

Zari held the case tentatively, but her eyes had gone as round as black moons.
“Maman?”

It was impossible to ignore the sounds from the bathroom; clearly, Yassi was very ill. Vanessa knelt toward the child. “She'll be fine, Zari, I promise.” She hoped she was right.

She went to work, opening a package of tea biscuits and a bar of chocolate. “Do you like chocolate?” She knew Arash and Yassi had taught their daughter English—she was probably fluent—and Zari seemed to understand everything she said. And now, thankfully, the house was quiet again except for the faint sound of the tap running in the bathroom.

Zari nodded, but she turned her careful attention to opening the case. She took her time, examining the contents—a small, plush white tiger with glass-green eyes, a tiny silk mouse, a locket, and a small bag of jacks. All simple treasures discovered at Incirlik's Local Closet, a secondhand shop for nomadic military families.

“Mamnoon,”
Zari said, ducking her head shyly as she clutched the mouse and the tiger. “Thank you very much.”

“Khahesh Mikonam.”
Vanessa stumbled over the Farsi phrase, and she rolled her eyes, mocking herself for Zari's benefit.

Zari smiled. Vanessa smiled, too. She held out an offering of chocolate.

“Maman?”

“
Man khoobam,
Mama's fine, my love, much better.” Yassi crossed the kitchen, her face and hair damp where she'd splashed herself with water.

And, watching her, Vanessa noticed she moved with more of the fluidity and confidence she'd seen at their very first meeting, when Arash introduced them at the hotel in Berlin.

Yassi looked up, meeting Vanessa's eyes. Then she kissed the top of her daughter's head. “Chocolate?”

“Is that all right?” Vanessa asked slowly. “I should have asked you first . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she put the signs together—the light in Yassi's eyes, the intensity of her sickness. Yassi was pregnant.

For a moment she couldn't think of anything to say, and she was grateful for the shriek of the kettle covering the silence. She pulled it from the burner, filling the teapot to steep.

As Yassi took a seat at the table, her demeanor shifted. However exhausted she and her daughter were, however drained, Yassi was here to deliver Arash's message—and to negotiate for a new life.

“Zari will stay with me while we talk,” Yassi said flatly. She patted the chair next to hers, and her daughter sat easily. Vanessa set down two mugs for the still-steeping tea, honey, and a mug with milk for Zari. Then she took her seat at the table with what was left of Arash's family.

As Vanessa poured steaming tea into their cups, adding honey to one, Yassi turned to her daughter. She hugged her, speaking to her softly, quickly in Farsi. She pressed the mouse into her daughter's arms, and Zari wrapped her arms around it.

Yassi met Vanessa's eyes. “I told her she is going to hear some hard truths about her father's death. We can begin.”

Vanessa tried a small sip of tea, but it scalded her tongue. She nudged the cup with her finger and pulled herself up in the chair. “Arash told me about the secret facility. He said he had geo-markers, but he didn't get the chance to tell me what they were.”

Yassi nodded. “When he came back from his first visit, he was deeply frightened by what he saw. They had many more capabilities than he'd known about.”

“Did he give you specifics, Yassi? It's vital that you tell me everything you remember.”

Yassi lifted the mug but held it with pale fingers halfway to her lips. “He said they had figured out the trigger system for detonation—they were weaponizing.”

“He told me that, too. Do you know who helped them?”

“There were many.”

“We know your country has worked with Pakistani scientists and with the Russians. There have been meetings with North Korea and the Chinese.”

Yassi set the mug down hard, spilling tea. “Then you know more than I do about those things.” Her delicate features tightened in anger, and she glared at Vanessa. “You can never understand what it is like living the way we lived. We were never sure if the Sepah were listening to us, we had to assume they were, but, when he could, Arash told me enough.”

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “He was frightened because he believed there was a new kind of alliance between the most powerful men in Iran, the Guardians, and a man who belongs to
no
country, who has expertise to sell, who can provide whatever you need to create whatever weapons you want—” Yassi broke off.

Vanessa's whole body went still. “This man with no country, do you know his name?”

“No. But Arash said he is not Iranian.”

“Was he coming to visit the facility?”

“Maybe—Arash believed so, but I don't know.”

“Yassi, think hard—”

“Arash did not tell me any more than that!”

Vanessa sank back in the chair, deflated.

“I'm sorry,” Yassi said, working to regain control as she sipped her tea.

“What about the geo-markers?” Vanessa said slowly, almost holding her breath. “Do you know what they are?”

Yassi shook her head.

Vanessa's skin went cold. Arash had died and she'd come all this way to end up with nothing? They could not lose this one chance to capture Bhoot. She was so caught up in her churning thoughts, she barely heard Yassi.

“What did you say?” Vanessa whispered.

“I might have them.”

She stared at Yassi. “You might have the markers?”

Yassi reached to her waist, carefully unknotting a bundle of dark blue silk that had been hidden beneath her cotton jacket.

Vanessa's pulse quickened. Had Yassi managed to smuggle out the location?

As Yassi carefully unrolled the silk, small items spilled onto the low table: coins, a key, a man's wedding ring, and a pack of Iranian-brand cigarettes.

“He kept his most valuable possessions inside a special box in a hiding place only known to us at our house,” Yassi said.

Vanessa began to reach out, but Yassi brushed her hand away. She picked up the cigarettes, holding the pack in the palm of her hand. “I found these. But my husband did not smoke.”

Vanessa waited now.

“Inside,” Yassi said, using two fingers to press the pack so the opening widened. “Empty the cigarettes and you will see there is writing inside. When I asked him, he said if anything happened I should get this to you.”

Vanessa held out her own hand again, but Yassi pulled the cigarettes away. “I need you to swear you will get my husband's murderer!”

Vanessa pulled back, almost shocked by Yassi's intensity. An image flashed through her mind: the killer leaving the Prater in Vienna. “We're following leads—”

“I don't care about leads. You are Ms. Dalton—” Yassi looked at her, mocking, clearly aware the name had always been a lie. “Arash did this work for you. He gave his life because he cared for you . . . and he wanted to stop the madness . . .” Yassi took a shuddering breath. “You used my husband. And I think he was a little in love with you.”

“That's not true, Yassi, I certainly didn't mean to—”

“Maybe you did not mean to . . . but I think it happened for him anyway.” Yassi raised her palm. “It is your job to use people, to know their weakness and their strength. That is just how it is . . . so now, in return, I ask you for justice. The man who pulled the trigger in Vienna and whoever sent him—make them pay for what they did.”

Vanessa swallowed hard. “I promise. I will do everything within my power to bring them to justice.”

“I know people, too,” Yassi said finally. “I may not like you, Ms. Dalton, but I believe you will do what you say. You will honor your word.” She slid the pack of cigarettes across the table. “Look here, the seam is open.”

Now Vanessa worked gently, spilling out the remaining cigarettes before easing the pack wide. Middle Eastern characters curled and dipped exotic and indecipherable, where Arash had carefully penned columns—fifteen columns filled with tiny, flowing script—along the cheap paper lining. A thin sticky line marked where he had reglued the pack.

“What is this?”
The writing was softer than the Script of Nails Vanessa had seen on tombs in Turkey. Confused, her frustration rising to anger, she looked to Yassi. “It's not Farsi. Is it some form of ancient Persian or Arabic?” She shook her head sharply. “We need geo-coordinates or geo-markers to locate the facility.”

“When Arash was at university, studying to be a nuclear engineer,” Yassi said, speaking with some difficulty now. “He also studied the ancient languages, because in his heart, he was a poet. I can only give you this because I think this is what you are looking for.”

“But what
is
it?” Vanessa repeated. In the brief silence she shrugged, pushing beyond her plummeting mood, the frustration and disappointment. Yassi wouldn't—couldn't—give her anything more. She forced herself to speak quietly, practically. “I checked with people in Washington, and your bank account is set. You have funds, a lot of money. Anything else you need now that I might be able to help you with? You can contact me . . .”

As she spoke, Vanessa slipped her cell phone from her pocket. The COS would send the cigarette package back to Headquarters via courier, where it would go to decryption analysts. Once she turned it over to the COS, Vanessa wouldn't get her hands on it again. She set to work, photographing every detail of the columns of characters.

Now she turned her attention to the other items on the table—the coins, the wedding ring that she guessed had belonged to Arash.

Vanessa gestured to the items. “We need to take these . . .”

“I know,” Yassi said.

“I'll make sure they are returned. I'm so sorry, Yassi.”

“You were with him when he died?” Yassi said. “Did he suffer?”

“No.” Vanessa was grateful she could speak the truth. “It happened very quickly.”

They were both standing now, and Yassi's eyes filled with a grief that made Vanessa ache. But something else, a sliver of light.

“Arash knew about the baby?”

“Yes, he knew.”

Vanessa nodded, and she reached out to squeeze Zari's tiny hand. It felt as delicate as a bird. “I promise, when I have news, I will get word to you . . .”