Desperate Situations (21 page)

Jake pe
eked out of his hiding place to see a turbaned man burst from the side street, then race down the street toward him. He frowned, this was the same guy from the coffee house and here in the jewelry store. His gut yelled to stop this guy.

The turbaned man turned to look behind him as he ran. It seemed from the shouting, that the guy had put some distance between him and his pursuers. He carried a small bundle in his hands and switched his hold on it, carrying it more like a football now.

Jake waited until the man was almost even with him, then stepped out. He lifted his hands to stop the guy, but the turbaned man's speed just increased as he refocused on running. Not having the time or ability to stop the collision, the guy ran headlong into Jake, even as Jake tried to step out of his way. They both fell to the ground in a heap.

A curse escaped the man's mouth. An English curse word. Familiar.

Jake, on the top, took a closer look at the man. His eyes focused on the face, this time at extremely close range. He couldn't keep the shocked look off of his face. The big brown eyes were beginning to focus. "Megan?"

"Damn," Megan said again as she tried pushing Jake off her.

"What are you…?"

"Shut up. And lower your voice," Megan said glancing around. "Get off me."

Jake quickly jumped up, pulling her up too.

Megan, dressed as
a man, looked behind her with a grimace. The shouting was getting louder. "Crap." She turned to Jake and pressed the bundle into his stomach. "Don't ask questions," she whispered. "Take it to base. Hurry."

"Chief?" Jake grabbed the bundle with a puzzled look.

"Do it. Now." She didn't wait, but took off across the street, pretending to still carry the bundle.

Jake followed her with still stunned
eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, two other turbaned men exited the side street. With a quick step, he moved back into the recess of the shop and hid the bundle.

He watched as they pointed down the street at a slower moving Megan. It was obvious she was waiting for them to see her. She was providing a diversion. They followed, yelling, and Jake saw her once more pick up speed and disappear around another corner.

He looked at the bundle. With a slight shrug, he slowly walked back to base holding the bundle as he had seen Megan carrying it, cradling it like a football―alert and on guard.

Whatever it was, she had risked her life in more than one way to get it. Besides stealing it, he was sure, if she was caug
ht and discovered, they would beat her to death. Jake shook his head.
Why do I always get involved with these 'different kind' of women? For once, I'd like to have a normal relationship.

***

Jake sat in Megan's office an hour later. He had his arms crossed and looked pissed off. Megan hesitated as she crossed the threshold, but continued into the room. She was dressed in her normal khaki pants and black shirt. Silently, she moved behind the desk. She pulled out her chair to find that Jake had 'hidden' the bundle on it. She transferred the bundle to the desk and sat down.

She smiled. "Thanks for the help."

He didn't do anything. He didn't smile. He didn't nod. He didn't blink.

Megan sighed. "I guess you'd like an explanation."

Jake uncrossed his arms.

"Close the door."

Jake leaned back and swung the door closed. He returned his stare at her.

With a swallow, Megan began to unbundled the package. She could tell that he hadn't taken it apart
since it was still wrapped as she had stolen it. "It's not what you're thinking."

He merely motioned with his hand to explain.

"Before the Russians left, they were excavating large parts of the country. In one archeological dig, they came across a huge find of gold, ivory, and things that dated back two thousand years to old Silk Road Bactrian times and earlier. It was an impressive find. The value of the works was, well, invaluable. When the Taliban took over, these valuable pieces of Afghanistan history disappeared. Scholars feared that they had melted down the gold or sold it piecemeal, or worse destroyed it, like the Bamiyan Buddhas."

Jake's mad face softened to a more neutral look.

Megan stopped unwrapping the package as she spoke. "Do you know the story of the Bamiyan Buddhas?"

"No."

"Well, in the Bamiyan Valley…" She waved her hand in a westerly direction. "Centuries ago two huge Buddhas were carved into the cliffs. Then in 2001, the Taliban went on a rampage destroying images 'offensive to Islam.' The world tried to convince them not to destroy the statues. But they did it anyway. It sparked an outage around the world among archaeologists and historians. Now all that exists are the two coves where the Buddhas once stood. Anyway, during that time and still going on today is the selling of Afghanistan artifacts. There is a huge trade in Pakistan. Anyone with money can buy a piece of ancient Afghanistan.

"When the Taliban took over, many loyal Afghans hid or, in any way possible, tried to preserve national treasures. For example, some workers at the National Film Institute built a false wall to conceal the room where the negatives of scores of movies were
kept. Many were documentaries on the antiquities that the Taliban were destroying. In some cases, pictures of those things are all that is left for the world to see. In the National Gallery of Art, some painters actually went to the building and began a series of deceptions. They painted in watercolor over offensive parts of the oil paintings. After the Taliban fell, they wiped the water paints off." Megan leaned back in her chair. She stared at the bundle on her desk as she spoke. Finally, she looked up at Jake.

"And what does that have to do with this?" he asked, pointing at the bundle.

"Those Bactrian artifacts I mentioned were one of the things that were feared destroyed or melted down for the gold. Several days ago, I got a tip from a source that part of the collection was still in tact, but that it was being shipped to Pakistan to be sold to the highest bidder in order to finance al Qaeda. I managed to find out where and when." She leaned forward and unwrapped the last layer.

A jumble of items lay in a pile
: ivory figurines, coins, and a couple of clay figures. The one that caught the eye was a shiny, gold necklace in the middle.

Megan reached out, gently extracted the small necklace from the pile and handed it to Jake. "This is part of Afghanistan history. What you hold is worth hundreds of thousands, if not millions of dollars."

Jake stared at the small gold discs and what looked like maybe leaves stamped out of gold. All were held together with finely hammered, golden links. It fit in the palm of his hand. After studying it, he looked up at Megan.

She righted the remain
ing items in the bundle. "This is an ivory statue that I would guess is from about the same time period. This clay mask-like looking thing is probably older." She gently laid them on the desk. "Here's a small piece from maybe the same type of necklace that you hold in your hand." It was another small disc of gold. "And there are maybe twelve or fifteen ancient coins here too." Megan leaned back.

Jake's eyes panned the items. Then he gently laid the gold necklace back with the other items. "What are you going to do with them? And, did you steal them?"

Megan gave him a wry grin. "You bet I stole them. Damn right. The al Qaeda guys have no right to them, least of all to be financing more terrorist acts." She leaned forward, picked up the phone and dialed an extension. "Could you come to my office? Thanks."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Wait," Megan said, her smile softening as she covered the items with a single fold of the cloth.

Within minutes, there was a knock on her door. Jake leaned back and opened it.

Fahim walked in with a puzzled look. "Yes?"

Megan smiled. "Close the door, Jake." She waited until Jake had done so. "Have I got a surprise for you, Fahim."

Fahim smiled back as he took the other chair in the room. "Yes?"

Megan uncovered the items with a flourish.

Fahim's eyes took in the artifacts then he moved closer. His face went from puzzled to shocked to astonished in seconds as he recognized the items on the desk. He slowly looked up at Megan. "Is that…?"

"Yep. A uh, source, clued me into a situation and I, with Jake's help, managed to secure these items. They won't be smuggled out of the country as planned." Megan glanced at Jake who was smiling as he watched Fahim take in the artifacts.

Lifting his face to look at Megan, Fahim had tears in his eyes. "I thought that… We feared they were lost forever." He reached out and reverently touched the gold necklace. "This is…" He lapsed into Pashtu for the rest of his sentence.

Megan nodded with a huge grin on her face. "You
're welcome, Fahim. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything. Anything at all." Fahim's eyes riveted on the pieces.

"Can you make sure that these artifacts make it back to their appropriate places?"

"Absolutely." He tenderly began to bundle them up. "This is a great day in Afghanistan history. We will never forget your contribution
―"

"Stop, Fahim," Megan interrupted him. "You know you can never tell where you found them. My name can't be connected. Secrecy. Remember? Say they were left at the gate or something."

"But how can we properly thank you?" Fahim once more had tears in his eyes.

"Your reaction is thanks enough
, and so is getting them back where they belong, so the world can enjoy them too."

Fahim bowed to her. "Consider it done." His face was lighting up the room as he began to leave.

"One more thing, Fahim," Megan said before he reached the door.

"Yes?"

"Rumor has it that there might be treasures in the presidential palace buried in a vault long forgotten." Megan winked. "Perhaps you could investigate and contact the right people to look into this?"

Fahim chuckled. "I will. I will. Do you think it is the rest of the Bactria
n treasure?"

Megan shrugged. "My source didn't know either, but I would bet that it must be something of importance. What do you think?"

Fahim bowed and left with a bounce to his step, as Jake closed the door behind him.

Megan looked at Jake. "Are you still mad at me?"

Jake smiled. "A man?"

A shrug greeted him. "As I said awhile ago, I can blend in as a man if I dress right."

"What about your voice?"

Megan swallowed hard. She smiled at Jake as she spoke, her voice dropping an octave. Although it sounded like she had a very sore throat, it was so different from her natural voice that it could easily pass as a man's voice. "I can't talk for long speeches like this
, but I can hold conversations if need be."

"That's incredible."

Megan shrugged. She swallowed again. Her voice returned to normal. "It just takes practice."

"Do you play 'dress up' often?"

"No. It's too dangerous."

"Yeah, I bet. And those other two times I saw you?" Jake leaned back in his chair.

"I was…" Megan hesitated. "Tracking down leads for other reasons."

"Like?"

Megan shook her head.

"So, just how many languages do you speak?"

"Four. Pashtu, Dari, Arabic, and French. I know a bit of Russian and Kurdish but I wouldn't say I speak either."

"Who taught you that?" Jake motioned with his hand to her neck and voice.

"My Dad." Megan looked down at the desk then suddenly stood up. "I'd appreciate it if you forgot this afternoon. My life depends on secrecy."

Jake stood with her. "You did a good thing here."

She could feel her cheeks turning hot and red.

Jake winked. "So beautiful." He walked out the door.

Later that night, Jake stepped out onto the roof to find Megan again by herself looking at the mountains. He grabbed a chair and sat down by her without asking.
He poured a drink out of his bottle and handed it to her, again without asking,

Megan took it without speaking and slugged it back, then handed the glass to Jake. He refused. Megan turned it several times in her hands then returned to looking at the mountains. Neither spoke for a long time.

"Today was his funeral," Megan said softly, hardly above a whisper. "I got a message from Todd."

"What was he like?" Jake asked, settling deeper in
to the chair.

"My Dad?" Megan asked rhetorically. She shrugged. "I don't know. Strong. Independent. A pig-headed bastard."

Jake poured himself another and held the bottle out to pour her one too.

She hesitated then held out the glass. She sniffled as she held the shot glass aloft. "Here's to you Dad. I hope you found happiness." She slugged it back, then glanced at Jake who didn't join the toast. She looked puzzled.

Jake tilted his head at her. "Your Dad. Your toast." He reached out and poured her another shot. "To his daughter." Jake lifted the glass and waited until Megan joined him. Together they toasted.

"He was a good guy. He tried hard, but I think a ten-year old daughter mystified him
―a weenie for a son and a daughter that defied everyone." Megan smiled, looking into her empty glass. "He always called Todd 'his little girl.' "

Jake looked at her, incredulously.

"I'm not kidding. I think he was trying to get Todd to toughen up. He's eight years older than me. With me, Dad was clueless. I was the boy he wanted, wrapped in a girl's body." Megan chuckled. "When I was growing up, he didn't know whether to discipline me for my behavior or praise me for being my own person and thinking for myself. He settled for somewhere in between." She lapsed into silence.

Jake watched her. It was obvious that she needed to talk. He was glad that he had joined her. He hesitated at first to climb the stairs. He hated it when women cried, feeling useless
, never knew what to do or say. "Your dad sounded like a fine man."

"Yeah. He was. Taught me a bunch of stuff that would have been useless except in my line of work. He saved my life numerous times with his warnings playing in my mind. Snotty, old bastard."

Jake smiled.

"He tried hard when he was around, which wasn't that often. When he wasn't around, he had people looking out for me. I got used to having someone watching my every move. Even that proved useful, the smart bastard."

Jake poured himself another and again offered her another. She held out the glass for a refill.

"He tried to be around for me, which is hard, working for the company that we do. He was many times so far under that he couldn't even send a note on my birthday. I always received a card, he hired someone to do that, but I knew the difference." Megan slugged
the drink back then set the shot glass on the rooftop.

"What about your mom?"

"She died when I was nine. Car accident. I was with her. It was scary. She was still alive after the accident. All she said to me was 'Stay alive.' I climbed out of the car and ran to get help. When I returned she was dead. Dad couldn't come home right away. Todd had turned eighteen so he got custody of me. I hated it. We fought like the Cold War. We have never gotten along. Dad came home some weeks later. At ten, I was shipped off to my first boarding school. Got kicked out and went to another. I got kicked out of around six of them over all. Finally Dad threatened me, said I would amount to nothing."

"He actually said that?"

Megan nodded. "He didn't know how to father. He was never around. He treated us more like employees. But I buckled down to prove him wrong. Which, of course, was exactly what he knew I would do. He tried to spend as much time with me as possible. Even took me to West Germany once before the Wall fell." Megan looked at Jake and smiled. "My first spy case."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

Jake's jaw almost dropped.

"Yeah. He was meeting a contact, so he sent me to a café to hang out. I saw a drop happen before my eyes. I knew what it was because Dad liked to share things with me. Probably his big downfall as a spy. Anyway, I knew that the two guys were Russian. I heard them talking and recognized some of the words. Dad spoke flawless Russian. I figured out that it was important, but Dad was nowhere. So I nonchalantly picked the guy's pocket. Turned out, it was an extremely important piece of information."

"At sixteen?"

"Yeah. The Company recruited me out of high school. They sent me to college with an eye to working for them afterwards. Dad was both proud and saddened at the same time. He knew the life I was getting ready to lead, yet I could tell he was proud of me for finding my own way." Megan lapsed into silence as she stared into her hands loosely crossed on her lap. Finally after a long silence she looked up at Jake. "What about you? Your life? I only know the basics from your file."

"Not nearly as exciting as your
s."

"Don't feel bad about that. My life wasn't that great. It sounds exciting, but it was mostly lonely."

Jake nodded, watching, for once, as emotions played on her face.

"When I was little I used to want a normal life. You know, a mom and dad that went to work and came home for supper. Holidays spent together. A real family."

"If your Dad was always gone and you were in a boarding school, where did you spend holidays?"

"If Dad happened to be free, with him. I've lived for short periods all over the world, but usually I stayed at school. Occasionally, I would spend time with Todd and his assortment of girlfriends or who ever. That never lasted long. As I said, we never got along. Mostly, I stayed at school. There was always one teacher who took pity on me or a classmate's family."

"Sounds sad."

Megan nodded, not looking up. "Yeah, but it taught me to rely on myself and how to really value friendships. I don't make friends easily but when I do, it's deep."

"Like Kelly?"

"Yeah. He's funny. We're total opposites, yet from the first day, I knew he'd be a great friend."

"Anything romantic ever happen with him?"

"No. He loves his wife. And I've never had those types of feelings for him. I'd give my life for him, but I don't want to sleep with him." Megan smiled at Jake. "Purely platonic." She stared into his eyes. "You never answered my questions about your life."

"What's to tell?" Jake said. "I grew up in the All-American family. Five sisters and me. Four older, one younger. I excelled at sports. Went to college and joined the Army. Got picked for Ranger school. Excelled. Retired. Here I am." He smiled. "Not much to tell, really."

"What's it like living with that many siblings?" Megan leaned back relaxed in the chair.

Jake shrugged. He normally didn't think about things like this. He gazed into the distance. "I don't know. I got yelled at a lot for leaving the toilet seat up."

Megan chuckled.

"It was tough dodging hormones. If one sister wasn't pissy at me during her period, another one was. Guess I got used to dealing with difficult women." He shrugged. "I know more than most men about feminine hygiene products. Dad taught me how to keep my head down during the worst parts of the month, but it did foster in me a better understanding of women, I guess. Still didn't help in other aspects." He looked over to see Megan staring at him.

"Any one special woman?"

"No. I seem to have bad luck in that respect," Jake said staring into her brown, doe eyes. "I never found the right one. You?"

"Yeah right. Too busy. Oh, I'm not inexperienced. Lost my virginity at seventeen." She chuckled. "Still, I can't settle down. And most guys, although they don't like to admit it, are looking to settle down and breed. I can't see myself cooking and cleaning." She snorted a laugh. "I have to be honest. I can't cook. I'd starve any kids I had if it weren't for take out and ready made meals."

"Seriously? I thought all women could cook," Jake spoke teasingly.

"I guess Dad did okay raising me. I mean, I didn't end up in jail or dead. Yet."

Jake offered another drink, which she accepted. "So when your contract is up, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I guess try to stay Stateside. I mean, I have enough time in grade to pull it off. But the agency is so low on people who speak the languages and know the areas
, that I might not have a choice. And now that Dad is gone, I've no reason to stay in the States. Still, it would be nice not to have to be on guard every second of every day."

Jake watched her closely. She looked like she wanted to talk or maybe the alcohol was making her tongue loose. He drank with her again.

"You?" Megan raised her eyes to meet his again. "Have you decided?"

Jake merely shook his head.

"No, you aren't, or no you haven't decided yet?"

"Haven't decided. If what they say is true, and I heard rumors before I even left Iraq that I'd get called back, I'll be heading back there anyway. So, I guess my real decision is in what capacity do I return
?" Jake took a deep breath and looked out over the mountains.

"Both have their bad points," Megan said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah. And both have their good. I just need to let my mind work on it." Jake looked at her. "How long do you think he'll give me before he puts on pressure?"

Megan stared into his eyes. "Knowing Bill, don't be surprised if he contacts you tomorrow or every day until you give him an answer. He can be quite
a prick."

Jake smiled. "Is it a prerequisite to be pushy to be CIA?"

"No." Megan smiled back. "But it helps."

***

Two days later Megan was flying for the first time again. They were helping transport military personnel to a small base in the mountains. This was a base near the Afghanistan/Pakistan border. The military needed extra troop transport vehicles since two of their Chinooks were down. Megan was flying Death with Cowboy, while Pucky and Stick were flying Pestilence with full troop capacity.

Bill's crew was also on the same mission. His pilots were flying the other two Chinooks. The third White Pine crew was flying two Black Hawks
for cover. And along with them were four Army Chinooks and two other Black Hawks flying cover. It was rumored that al Qaeda didn't want the transfer of personnel, at least not this many on this day for some reason.

Megan thought it was a bunch of bunk, but they were flying fully loaded for a fight. In her Pave Hawk was Cupcake and Tiny
, each manning a door gun and two others for back-up.

The day dawned bright
, and they were in the air before the sun rose. Within minutes, the Chinooks were loaded with GIs and the whole group set off for the northeast. The convoy was less than five minutes out when one of White Pine's Black Hawks called that they were having problems with an engine and heading back to base.

Megan frowned at Cowboy. "Sounds suspicious."

"Could be a coincidence," Cowboy intoned, but the look on his face said otherwise.

"Do you believe in coincidences?"

"Not with you, Darlin'," Cowboy said with a huge smile. He noticed Megan chewing her lip. "What?"

She shook her head.

"Spit it out, Girl."

"One of my sources said that al Qaeda is unhappy with White Pine because they believe one of the personnel stole
valuable merchandise from them."

Cowboy narrowed his eyes. "And?"

"I wouldn't rule out sabotage." Megan paused. "Last night I checked on the choppers. My gut was telling me that someone had been in the hanger, but I couldn't find proof of anything. This has me worried."

"Why wait until now? Why not just sabotage on the ground?" Cowboy shook his head. "I don't
know."

Megan shrugged.

They flew in silence for a few more minutes. Suddenly, they heard cursing over the radio. "That sounds like Cruiser," Megan said. Cruiser was the co-pilot of the other White Pine Black Hawk. "Call 'em," she ordered Cowboy. As she did so, she fell out of formation and took a visual look.

A piece flew off of the tail rotor. The nose dipped then immediately came back up. The other Black Hawk slowed. Fast. And began spinning.

Cowboy hit the button. "XXO this is Famine. Come in―"

"Mayday… Mayday… Mayday… We lost our tail rotor… We are going down… Famine, we are going down…"

That was obvious. They could see the helicopter spinning its way to the ground. Megan flew in that direction even as Cowboy was calling out to the rest of the helicopters, which had of course already heard. There was pandemonium on the radio.

The damaged helicopter crashed hard into the ground.

"Survivors?" asked a military Black Hawk pilot.

Megan shook her head as she began landing.