The Puppetmasters (52 page)

The contented CEO could just feel that Kendall would be rescued within days. The anticipation was killing him, but the immense satisfaction that would come from knowing his part in the successful extraction was ten times greater than any business deal he had ever fought over and won.

The cloudy gray summer day did nothing to dampen his spirits.

As North America slept and Afghanistan awoke, there was a sudden imperceptible change in the dynamics of the single-minded pursuit. The bolded dot representing the whereabouts of Rashid Sharif flickered and went dark.

O
UT OF THE CORNER OF
her eye, Kendall caught the first glance at a large hairy looking thing on her shoulder. The creature’s two lateral
chelicerae
were in a chomping motion. She felt a huge scream bubble up to the surface when Rashid calmly flicked it off her shoulder. The twitching thing landed to the side of her, stunned. As she quickly turned her head to look, she about fainted at the sight of the whole body. The bizarre-looking arachnid was over six inches long. Rashid grabbed the closest rock and smashed it on top of the hideous thing. He peered over at Kendall, as she wasn’t making a sound.

“Wha-wha-what was that?” she stuttered.

“A camel spider. It’s really not as bad as it looks. Yeah, the bite will hurt, but it’s not poisonous.”

Her eyes were wide with fear. “That thing is a spider?”

“Uh-huh. It’s actually more like a scorpion. But it’s in the spider family. It can run ten miles an hour. Isn’t that incredible?”

“You’re not helping, Rashid. I’m never going to sleep tonight.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, if there’s another around here, it will eat all the insects and rodents. We’ll be safer. It even eats small birds.”

“Wonderful! I’m glad I don’t have a baby.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. No one’s ever died from a camel spider bite. It just looks particularly scary.”

In fact, she slept soundly that night. Rashid didn’t have the heart to tell her that things could get very hairy for them in the next twenty-four hours. They were either going to find their way out of Afghanistan via Mazar-e-Sharif, or they’d end up dead. His heart was heavy as he worried about the next couple days. At least Kendall would be able to blend right in by using her full-length
chador.
It would be hot and annoying, and he was sure he would hear about it from an irritated Kendall. But if it kept her safe it was well worth it.

In the morning, they took quick baths in the nearby stream. Rashid figured this would be the last chance to wash up before they fled Afghanistan for good.

They loaded their possessions onto Babar for the last time and trudged off in a northerly direction. Kendall couldn’t understand why she felt so apprehensive and maybe even a little sad. She should be excited that their journey was coming to an end, but for some unknown reason that she could think of, she wasn’t.

They stopped for an hour at midday, and Rashid pointed out a family of
caracal
a few hundred yards away. The Persian lynx mother and her babies were a beautiful reddish brown color. The two white spots above each eye were very dramatic. But Kendall finally had enough of witnessing the brutality of nature when the mother
caracal
took off after a fawn and quickly returned with the dead baby in her mouth … legs dangling like small sticks.

Kendall urged them on and didn’t utter a complaint as her heavy garment twisted about her legs. As they approached the outskirts of Mazar-e-Sharif, Rashid took a look through the binoculars. He frowned and muttered to himself.

“Rashid, what’s wrong? Are there soldiers?”

“Yeah, everywhere. We’re going to have to enter through a side route.”

He wasn’t totally familiar with the layout of the city, and hated not being prepared for the awaiting troops. Fortunately, there was a celebration going on. The city held a festive atmosphere, with more people on the street than usual. Suddenly there was a commotion on the east side of the city. There was a particularly heated and physical game of
buzkashi
going on. It had turned violent, and a fight had broken out between the players and the spectators. The soldiers, always looking for an excuse for physical gamesmanship, saw this as an opportunity to let off a little steam and break a few bones in the process. They would teach these locals how to behave and to respect the law.

This unexpected diversion allowed Rashid and Kendall to slip into the city at dusk from the west side. They walked a few blocks and came upon a crumbling mud-brick structure with seven-foot-high walls and no roof or door. It had obviously been abandoned some time ago, and was in a complete state of disrepair. Rashid ushered Kendall and Babar into the interior of the structure, which was separated into several rooms. As he unloaded their things from Babar, a wizened old man with white-gray hair and a long beard appeared in the doorway. Rashid rapidly engaged him in a discussion in
Dari …
the most common language spoken in Mazar-e-Sharif. He managed to convince the man that he and his young wife had just arrived from Herat. They had no money and were going to be looking for work the next day.

Rashid knew that Babar was very valuable. He pointed out that Babar was their only asset. He asked the elder if he could exchange a week’s stay for Babar. The old man couldn’t believe his fortune. He agreed, and not only let them stay
there, but brought them a hot meal. Kendall felt sick to her stomach when Babar was led away. She’d become very fond of him. Even the funny noises he made. She’d miss him.

Rashid could see the expression on her face. “Kendall, he’ll be fine. He basically saved our lives. The
chowkider
thinks we’re the most foolish young people he’s met in a long time. I’m sure he feels guilty that he’s taken advantage of us.”

“What did you call him?”

“He’s a
chowkider …
a caretaker. Apparently, he checks on this place every day for precisely the reason we’re here. A lot of people try to move in here.” He grinned, “Well, we just rented it for a week.”

In the morning, the two rose early. Rashid knew of an Internet café where they could use a computer. He wanted to check the news and look for the best way to exit the country. He was feeling relieved they didn’t have Babar with them any longer. The soldiers were most likely looking for two people and a camel. Now, with Kendall fully covered, she could walk freely around the city. He was the one who needed to stay out of sight.

He was very glad he remembered the computer chip that had been inserted in his back just under the skin a few years ago. It had taken some convincing for Kendall to agree to remove it yesterday morning. But there wasn’t much blood, and the deed was done. He took a rock and smashed it. He didn’t think the records could be recovered from the Afghan government’s computers, and even if they were, the late President Shazeb had not exactly been communicative about his paranoia that his family might be kidnapped.

Kendall and Rashid walked through the open market. At one stall, Kendall asked if they could stop and buy some fresh fruit. They walked a few streets further and encountered the Internet café. They weren’t sure how helpful it would be, but both got on separate terminals, with Rashid helping Kendall maneuver through the Afghan keyboard. He kept looking around and was very worried the soldiers would check the café. They agreed to stay for only twenty minutes so as not to raise any suspicions. Kendall didn’t know who to send a message to that could help them here. She took a chance and sent an email to the only person who might possibly understand what she was going through … Paul Fields. She knew he had an admin who monitored his emails. She hoped there wouldn’t be too much of a delay. She made it short and to the point.

Paul, Need help. In Mazar-e-Sharif with R. K

When she looked up, the proprietor was staring intently at her. Of course, he couldn’t see her eyes or face under her full head cover. She nudged Rashid’s elbow and hissed that the café owner appeared to be monitoring their emails and maybe even keystrokes. By now, the shopkeeper was interested in both of
them. As he picked up the phone, Rashid jumped up and ran to the front desk. He grabbed the receiver from the man and yanked the phone line right out of the wall. The proprietor backed up against the wall, terrified he was about to be shot. With that, Rashid and Kendall burst out of the café and zigzagged their way back to the mosque ruins.

While Kendall would be fine, he knew he had to change his appearance. He had Kendall cut his beard as close to his face as possible. The only implement he had was an old, crude, rusty, dull scissor. Under his breath, he said a little prayer for steady hands for Kendall. Afterwards, he changed his clothes to the pajama-like garment and wore the
Kufi
on his head and sandals on his feet. Kendall scrutinized his new look and decided he would escape notice.

When the
chowkider
came by to check on them, he sensed they were in trouble. He was a kindly soul, and Rashid was afraid the old man would be severely punished or even killed if he was caught helping them. Rashid took a chance and explained their predicament in somewhat cryptic terms. He said they needed a way into Uzbekistan and didn’t have the proper documentation. The caretaker, a romantic, decided this young couple had run away to marry, and were hiding from their families. He remembered the days long ago when he was in love and forbidden from marrying a girl from the wrong tribe. His heart was broken and though he vowed to make it happen, her family moved away and he never saw her again. Just remembering that heartbreak brought tears to his eyes. He was determined to help this poor young couple. He even thought that maybe they hadn’t married yet. How scandalous, he thought, but terribly romantic.

He told Rashid that he knew of a “safe house” where they could arrange travel into Uzbekistan … probably via the upgraded rail system. He assured them he would go at once and speak with the owner.

Kendall fretted the whole time he was gone. She paced the dirty floor of one room after another. Finally, she stopped in front of Rashid. “I don’t see why we couldn’t just walk across the border during night time.”

He laughed and sadly shook his head. “First, there’s no cover or place to hide. The land from here to the border—some thirty-five miles—is completely flat. It’s a steppe … a grass-covered plain. That’s a long way out in the open. Even Omar’s troops know we wouldn’t be that foolish.

The
chowkider
was back within an hour. He had a wide grin on his face. He explained the arrangement, and they walked to within fifty yards of the normal-looking inauspicious mud-brick house. Rashid insisted on leaving Kendall at the market to watch from afar while he checked things out in the “safe house.”

The two men disappeared inside the little house while Kendall casually perused the display items at a tourist kiosk just down the way. As she gently stroked a lovely polished lapis necklace, there was a huge blast that knocked her flat.

She scrambled to her feet and turned to look at the little house down the road. It was gone. All that remained was dust and debris that settled all around them. She suddenly realized that someone was screaming. It was her! People rushed to her and asked if she was okay. She had no idea what they were saying. She was scared and alone now. She pushed the well-meaning arms away and ran for her life. In the frantic chaos and aftermath of the explosion, no one noticed the woman running down the street and into the noble shrine and famous
Blue Mosque.

She didn’t even know how she got there. She seemed to have been propelled in that direction. As she approached the famed
Blue Mosque
in the center of the city, Kendall noticed there was a crowd of women in the courtyard. She realized she could easily blend in. So, she joined the throngs of females. She didn’t know it was Wednesday … ladies day at the
Blue Mosque.
There were many groups of women huddled around picnic lunches. Kendall sat on a stone bench and stared at the hundreds of white pigeons and the beautiful blue mosaic tiles that comprised the mosque’s exterior.

Her mind was racing, but most of all, she was in shock. Rashid was dead. Her Rashid, who she had grown close to and literally depended on for her very survival. What was she going to do? She was too afraid to go back to the old mosque where their possessions were. But she had no choice. She knew that Rashid had money in the bags. If she could at least locate some of his
Afghani,
she would be able to buy food and maybe even go to a hotel. She no longer cared if she was caught. She was tired of running, sickened by all the death and brutality, and, most of all, heartsick that Rashid was gone. She sat on the bench by herself for an hour.

She sobbed uncontrollably. Finally, there were no more tears. There was movement all around her. The women were leaving
en masse,
and men were entering the courtyard. She looked around, and no one paid attention to her. She got up and realized she was extremely hot and parched. She slowly and cautiously shuffled her way back to the mosque ruins. She circled it three times before she had the courage to go inside. Even then, her movements were tentative as she poked her head inside the familiar dingy walls.

Kendall swiftly made her way to their belongings, and she rummaged through Rashid’s things, trying to remember where he stashed his
Afghani.
She found it in several pockets and quickly stuffed it into her pockets. She had a flat purse-like muslin pouch strapped onto her front. It easily fit behind the cumbersome robes. She stuffed as much
Afghani
as she could into the small bag. Lastly, she took one of their travel bags and filled it with a few items of clothing, some food, a knife, and the handgun and extra ammunition. She slung one of the water bags over her shoulder and, carrying a blanket, headed to the opening of the mosque.

Her head was clearer now that she’d been forced to focus on her task at hand and organize their belongings into what could be taken and what would be left behind. As she reached the doorway, she stepped out into the bright sun. Something metallic reflected in her eye and temporarily blinded her. She blinked and dropped her goods.