C.R. Daems - Kazak 2 - The Unthinkable Read online

  "I hate you. I like being a young girl finally away from home and rules, and free to do what I want. And you want me to grow up. I'm not ready to be an adult. I want to remain in transition between girl and woman. Free."

  "Nothing is free nor is life fair. As a child, girl, or woman, you are free to make decisions, but they have consequences. As a child or young girl, you don't always realize the possible consequence. But as a woman you must understand they exist, although you can't always predict them."

  Karin nodded. "I don't promise to like the situation, to go along without a fight, or to like you, but I'll try to remember the consequences. I won't be able to avoid thinking like a young girl in transition, because I am." She made a half-hearted effort to smile.

  "I can accept that. Here are my rules..."

  "You're going to be my roommate!"

  "Tied to the hip." I spent the next hour detailing her story about me, that I was a Muslim, why I dressed the way I did, her promise to her father, etc. We went over the story several times, until I felt confident she had it straight.

  ***

  Karin was surprised when I had no trouble registering along with her. In fact, we were both already registered and assigned a room. She changed one course without any trouble, although it was already full.

  "I can't believe this. Registration should have taken hours, and I probably would have had to change class times and maybe lose a course or two I wanted. Father is an important man, but the college wouldn't have acquiesced like that for him. I'll bet you could get the Tuck School of Business and Dartmouth to refuse to register me," she said almost absent-mindedly. I nodded.

  ***

  The first day of school proved the most stressful for Karin. I was everywhere she stood, sat, or walked. In the student cafeteria, I insisted we sit off to the side where I had a good view of everything and my back to the wall.

  "Why? My friends, old and new, are going to think I'm weird," Karin wined.

  "So I can see the entire room. You can tell your friends I'm paranoid, having grown up with a warlord as a father. In fact, you can use that as an explanation for most of the things you and they consider weird. Karin, I know you think this is all unnecessary, and I hope it turns out that way. Until then, I'll spend every minute of every day surveying every area you're in. I'll risk my life to keep you safe, so humor me."

  "I know it's weird, but I almost would like to be attacked to see how you'd react."

  "Careful what you wish for."

  "Karin's first class was Capital Markets, introducing the things that determined the pricing of stocks, bonds, and other financial instruments. I found it interesting, although I had my mind split between observing everyone and everything, and the lecture. We had just finished the class when a good-looking young man approached.

  "Hi, Karin, who's your friend?"

  "Lana, this is Carl, if you want to know the location of tonight's party ask him or follow him. Tuck only accepted him because his father gave Dartmouth a ten million dollar grant.

  "Carl, this is Lana. She's the daughter of an Afghan warlord, who's my father's ally and friend." Karin said tentatively. For her first performance, it was respectable.

  "Hello, Lana. I'm pleased to meet you." He smiled and put out his hand.

  "Motasharfon bemarefatclh...sorry, nice to meet you, Carl. I'm still not used to speaking English in my responses." I gave a slight nod but didn't take his hand.

  "You have a beautiful voice in either language."

  We met several other friends of Karin's and slowly my cover story was solidified. We attended three more classes that day. At dinner, I insisted on eating at a table in the corner. Rather than me looking strange to her friends, they thought me interesting. By the end of the day, Karin was mentally exhausted from explaining my presence and trying to say the right things.

  "You did well today, Karin. It may be easier than I thought. Your friends and others see me as a novelty and find my supposed idiosyncrasies interesting. You can play on that."

  "This would be fun, if it wasn't so much work. You seem to take to it naturally."

  "Think of it as a game you're playing with your friends, teachers, and new people you meet. Enjoy it. No one is being hurt by it. Actually, everyone is enjoying me and my strange ways," I said trying to ease her tension. It looked to be a long semester. The first two or three weeks would be the toughest.

  ***

  The first week went well. People not only accepted my presence, but also went out of their way to meet and talk with Karin. Boys were particularly interesting in hitting on me. I managed to hold them off with my Muslim ethics. Unfortunately, that just seemed to encourage them to be creative. Karin's first party proved a real challenge.

  When we arrived, it was chaos with men and women dancing, drinking, popping drugs, and running up the stairs to bedrooms. It would be impossible for me to follow Karin, so I parked myself on the stairway about halfway up. At least, I could scan the room and keep an eye on her-most of the time. My cover would unravel if I tried to follow her as close as I would like or dragged her back to our room. So, I kept an eye on her as best I could, while continuously scanning the crowd for anything out of place. It seemed ridiculous. The college kids were easy to identify; hence, anyone else would stand out. I had been sitting there for only a few minutes when this tall, freckled-face red-haired young man sat down next to me. He wasn't drunk but high on something.

  "You're that girl from Afghan whose father is a warlord. Welcome to America."

  "Thank you," I said without turning in his direction. Normally, I would mix in a little Arabic, but thought that would just encourage him.

  "You should join in. This is America not Afghanistan. No one is going to punish you if you have some fun," he said and put his hand on my leg. I gently removed it, regretting I hadn't broken it.

  "Oh, loosen up." He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me towards him. I let him, driving my elbow into his ribs. His breath exploded out of him as he bounced backward against the wall. His ribs weren't broken, but they would be bruised and painful for the next few days. As I turned towards him, he stared wide-eyed while gasping for breath. I noticed several men had been watching the exchange.

  "Ya Allah, that isn't proper conduct. Please leave."

  "Harry, I don't think you impressed her." Their laughs were good-natured, enjoying Harry's failed attempt. I had several more attempts at seducing me, but they were careful and didn't press too hard. I think they had a pool going. Karin seemed to be enjoying herself. She danced with several men, did some drinking, and allowed a bit of rubbing and kissing. I was relieved she didn't let anyone take her upstairs. I wasn't sure if it was good sense or my presence.

  About midnight, she began staggering and a boy put his arm around her and began heading for the stairs. At the stairs, he looked up at me.

  "She wants to go upstairs." He winked.

  "She doesn't look well. I'll take her home." I hoped he would admit defeat and let me take her home.

  "She's a big girl and can do what she wants. Why don't you go home? She knows the way." He gave me a nasty stare and began walking up the stairs. I let him pass me, and then swept my arm across his ankles. He hit the stairs face first and slid several steps down before stopping. I stood up and caught Karin before she fell. He staggered to his feet. His nose was bleeding nicely.

  "You bitch," he shook his fist and took a step towards me.

  "My father would be very unhappy if I were hurt. In Afghanistan, he would behead the person. Here I guess the police would be involved at very least."

  A few of the men were snickering, some unsure what to think, and a few gave me ugly looks.

  "Karin definitely looks unwell. I will take her home. Massaa el kheer...good evening," I said and helped her out the door and back to our dorm room. She appeared awake but unable to move or respond verbally. I suspect someone put a date-rape drug in her drink. If not, she was really going to be mad at me in the morning.
r />   I called Witton after I put her to bed.

  "Mr. Witton, how is my father doing. I miss him."

  "I'll bet you're miserable, since no one has shot at you over the past couple of weeks. I know how cranky you get when you're bored."

  "Tell father I'm still a good Muslim woman, although it's difficult with college kids."

  "You can't talk, can you? Sorinson is having trouble with the cell. He's been attempting to stall while the CIA tries to locate them. His handlers are losing patience. Be careful."

  ***

  The week went by quickly. I enjoyed her classes even though I didn't understand everything. Her friends and interested classmates were fun, and Karin gave me little trouble except for the bathroom. I insisted being there when she was. She tried to stop me mostly because her friends began to wonder why. I explained that since it was a co-ed dorm, it would be inappropriate for me to be alone. That seemed to satisfy everyone except Karin. That weekend, she and a few of her friends decided to go into town and eat out. I wished she didn't have friends along. My responsibility began and ended with Karin. They had put themselves at risk without knowing it, because Karin didn't believe there was any risk.

  They wandered in and out of shops trying on clothes and now and then buying some. Karin and I were slightly behind her friends, because she had stopped to say hello to someone she knew from her Management Communications class. We had just started walking when I noticed two men approaching us and another coming from behind. All three had their eyes glued to Karin. I drew my gun a second before they did. I swept Karin off her feet and fired twice, once into each man's chest. As she hit the sidewalk, I spun down into a snake stance, close to a sitting position. We fired simultaneously. He missed, I didn't. I fired again at his head. As I spun back and up, I felt a stabbing pain in my leg. A man across the street, that I hadn't seen, fired twice as I was uncoiling. He only missed my head or chest because he shot a second too late. I fired twice, driving him into a plate glass window, which shattered as he slammed into it. I turned and fell on Karin, who lay stunned from the impact of hitting the pavement. I lay there my face near her ear.

  "You heard shots and felt me push you down and fall on you. You don't remember what happened after that." I repeated it three times, until she mumbled something I took for an agreement. Several minutes later, the street came alive and her friends came rushing over to us. The girls were firing questions so fast I made no attempt to answer them.

  "Let's get out of here. It doesn't appear safe," I said as I helped Karin to her feet. "I think we should take Karin to the school's first aid. She might have a mild concussion."

  "You're bleeding," Karin's friend Dorothy screamed. I nodded and we made our way to the campus first aid building. My wound had distracted the questions. When we arrived, I used the bathroom to redistribute my weapons. The doctor concluded my injury was only a flesh wound but that I should go to the hospital to be safe. I declined. At my insistence, he cleaned, sutured, and bandaged it. He examined Karin and concluded she didn't have a concussion, just a good size lump on her head. When we finally exited the examining room, everyone rushed us.

  "Are you going to tell us what happened, Lana, or do we have to beat it out of you?" Dorothy demanded. The other girls nodded. Karin was or pretended to be dizzy, so I gave my version.

  "You had just entered Sally Brown's shop when the shooting started. I pushed Karin to the ground and fell on top of her."

  "That was brave of you, Lana," Dorothy replied, looking at me wide eyed.

  "I followed my natural instincts. My father's a warlord. In Afghanistan, you learn quickly it's best to hit the ground when you hear gunfire. I guess I didn't hit the ground fast enough." We talked a bit while returning to the dorm. Karin said little. I made the excuse that we needed rest and would see them tomorrow. As soon as we entered the room, I called Witton on his private line.

  "Boss, there was a shootout a few hours ago. I need for it to be considered an argument or a race issue. Two men attacked two others. I don't think anyone saw me shooting, but I don't want Karin or me to be involved." I outlined the specific details. Immediately afterward, he hung up. A man of few words would be an exaggeration.

  "How can you quiet the Newspapers and a police investigation?"

  "Self Interest 101. The newspaper is a business, which caters to the interests of the people in their area, so that they can make a profit. Fair and balanced doesn't enter into it. They will want to get the story in print before anyone else and put their spin on it. They will have to rely on the police report and witnesses, which will be very unreliable when bullets are flying. The police work for the government, whether it be City, State, or Federal, and can be directed what or what not to report and which details to withhold."

  "The professors never mentioned that course." She came over and put her arms around me. "Thank you. I hated you following me around, joined at the hip as you say. I managed to tolerate you when you seemed to fit in so easily. But I never believed I was in danger. I thought my father was being over protective of his little girl. And I didn't believe you when you said you were willing to risk your life for me. You were right to tell me I was acting like a young girl, whining because she couldn't get her way. I guess I got what I wished for-to see you in action-and I missed it."

  "Wasn't much to see. Four amateurs with guns, wanting to kill an innocent unarmed girl for a religion they don't understand. A standard Muslim greeting: Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah, means Peace be upon you and God's blessings. Where was the peace and God's blessings? Enough. It's time for you to study. It seems to me one of your classes gave you a reading assignment."

  "I can't study after what happened. Are you crazy?"

  "Of course, I'm crazy. Who else would do what I do for a living. Pick up the book and read me your assigned chapters." I pointed to her books. She gave me a dazed look, opened the book, and began reading. I asked questions as she read. Apparently, some of them were funny, since she laughed. After about an hour, we bought some snacks and drinks from the vending machine and were having a pajama party like two young girls. Around four in the morning Karin called it quits and crawled into bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. I pulled the covers over her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. A silly gesture for a Kazak.

  ***

  For the next few weeks, Karin and I became the most popular women on the campus, and I achieved hero status. If they only knew the truth. Two weeks later, Witton called.

  "They identified the Al Qaeda cell and arrested all its members-except the ones you shot." He gave a small snort. "There's no reason for you to stay; however, I think it would generate less questions if you did, at least, until the end of the semester." I stayed.

  When the semester ended, I told everyone that I had to go back to Afghanistan with my father, but hoped to start Dartmouth next fall. Karin and I said our goodbyes. She promised to stay in touch. I thought I would like that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I sat in Witton's office drinking coffee. Ann Marie had either changed brands or was adding something to the old one. I made a note to ask her.

  "Well Boss, what's my next assignment?"

  "I would have expected you to ask for time off to visit Clare."

  "I thought I had to be shot up to ask," I said, holding back a smile. If you run out of places to send me, I'm willing to go off and sulk."

  "General Sorinson is very pleased with you. Not only because you saved his daughter's life but for mentoring her. He said she seems to have transitioned from a young girl into an adult. He's making a 6B Prowler Jayhawk available to you to go anywhere you want. He said they would make it a training mission and simultaneously reward a few deserving pilots, since they would be allowed to wait for you. So I guess I have to give you time off or disappoint an important client and maybe the Committee." He took a sip of his coffee, and then nodded. "The Committee continues to take a special interest in you. Because you're a woman, you're a better match for
certain clients, like Karin Sorinson, and your client-restrictions have produced excellent results. They are hoping your project will product at least one woman Kazak. So far the feedback from the Hill has been positive.

  "So while we wait for the Committee to pick your next assignment, you can take Sorinson up on his ride. I'll let you know when they've decided.

  ***

  "Hi, Clare. Before you say anything, I'm in good condition and have another story you can't print. I'd like to go to Vegas to see Gabe and Jianyu. If you can and want to, I'd like you to come along. And maybe we can go someplace else afterward if Witton doesn't call me back too soon,"

  "Of course, you are due for mental evaluation. You need a full time shrink, but I guess you'll have to settle for a part-time one. Where do you want me to meet you? Since you have no injuries, I suspect you've no private plane."

  "Well, my last client's father has arranged for one. He feels he owes me, although he doesn't. But it won't be the kind of comfort we're use to. Meet me at Nellis Air Base, tomorrow around two o'clock. They will be expecting you at the gate and will direct you to the airfield. See you there." I hung up before she could ask any questions. Cruel, but the surprise would be worth it.

  ***

  When I arrived at the main gate to Andrews Air Force Base, they had obviously been expecting me.

  "Ma'am, I'm Chief Master Sergeant Noland. If you'll park your car over there, I'll take you to your ride." Noland proceeded to give me a guided tour of the base, before driving onto the flight line and parking close to several military fighters.

  "Ma'am, Lieutenant Simns has been notified of your arrival and should be here shortly. In fact, that is Lieutenant Simns approaching now." He nodded towards a good-looking man in a sage green flight suit walking towards us. He had curly brown hair, round face, athletic build, and a nice smile.

  "Welcome aboard, ma'am. General Sorinson and Admiral Clemens send their regards. You know some high-ranking military men. I'm Lieutenant George Simns, your driver. Your ride is over there. It's a 6B Prowler. It's a tight fit, but I think you will enjoy the ride. I understand you're a Kazak. Pardon me for saying so, but I didn't know there were any women Kazaks." He showed no sign of embarrassment, a typical young hotshot pilot full of self-confidence.