And he trusts me to bring him his son, Chace thought. But we’re not in the business of reuniting families, certainly not this one. Not unless the reunion could serve not just SIS’ interests, but the Americans’ as well.
“Is there a phone?” Chace asked, finally. “A satellite phone?”
“Kostum has one. He does not like to use it, because the CIA, they can detect it. They send the Predator drones out, believing he is a terrorist. Kostum does not wish a missile shot into his home.”
“No, I can see why he wouldn’t.” She leaned forward. “Could I use it? It wouldn’t take long.”
“I can ask him.”
Chace nodded, fell silent and into her thoughts once more. Ruslan watched, frowning, as if trying to read her thoughts.
“Does Zahidov have another missile?” Chace asked. “Like the one I used, like the one that brought down the helicopter?”
“I do not know. Why?”
“There were four missiles in the set. Three have been accounted for, but the fourth is still missing. They were stolen here in Afghanistan, then sold again, probably several times. We think the last buyer was Zahidov, that’s how they came to be in Tashkent.”
“And you want this fourth missile?”
“We want it back.”
Ruslan scratched his chin beneath his beard, turning away in thought. “Kostum might know something of this.”
“Any information on the whereabouts of the last missile would be very helpful.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes, but for whom?”
“We want the missile. You want your son. There may be a way to get both.”
“You will help me?” Chace saw hope flicker across Ruslan’s face.
“If I can.”
“Why?”
Chace thought of the best way to answer the question, of all the things she could say, all the ways in which she could appeal to him, convince him. The plan stirring in the back of her mind was ill formed at this stage, but it had potential, she was certain. The problem was, it required not only her participation, but that of Ruslan, a two-year-old boy, and the Americans as well.
“Because you’re not the only person that Ahtam Zahidov has stolen something from,” Chace told him.
The name had an immediate effect on Ruslan. His expression darkened with encroaching memories. He looked at Chace again, and the realization was there, and then it was replaced with understanding.
“He had you? Tortured you?”
“I was fortunate,” Chace replied. “Someone came for me in time.”
“My wife was not fortunate.”
Chace was silent.
“And you think there is a way to return my son to me, to appease my sister, and to punish Zahidov?”
“Perhaps.”
“I would like to see them pay, Tracy. More than you can imagine.” Ruslan Malikov bit back a laugh, more bitter than incredulous. “All right. I will listen to what you have to say.”
CHAPTER 39
London—Vauxhall Cross, Operations Room
25 August, 1709 Hours GMT
Crocker blew into the Ops Room, cutting off Mike Putnam before he could announce his presence on the floor.
“What’s happened?”
“Minder One on Sundown, sir,” Danny Beale said, turning at the Mission Control Desk. “Satellite link, duration seven seconds. Open code, says she needs to speak with you, that she’ll be calling back in . . .” He looked to the plasma wall, checking the clock there. “One minute, eighteen seconds.”
“No idea where she is?”
“Presumably still in Afghanistan, sir.”
“Is it a flap?”
“Didn’t sound like it, sir.”
“Then what the bloody hell is she calling in for?”
Putnam, Beale, and, at Duty Ops, William Teagle shrugged in unison.
“You’re all useless,” Crocker told them.
“Yes, sir,” Beale agreed cheerfully. Bill Teagle snorted.
Crocker scowled, then moved to the coffeemaker. The coffee was foul, had probably been sitting on the burner since the shift had begun, seven hours earlier. He crossed back to Communications, took the headset Putnam offered, settling it over his ears just as the call came through.
“Crocker.”
“Hello, Dad,” Chace said. “There are birds in the air and they make big droppings, so I have to be brief.”
“Understood.”
“Long-lost brother has been found, but he’s not the big bad we’ve been led to believe. He misses his family and has been trying to get his sister’s attention enough to talk about arranging a reunion. He assures me he has no interest in moving back home. In fact, he’d like to move to a different neighborhood altogether, one much farther west.”
“You believe him?”
“I do, yes, I think it’s all about his little boy. And the fact is, he’s staying with some overprotective relations. It’s limited our options.”
“You still have company?”
“Baby brother is with me, yes.”
“What do you want to do?”
“The long-lost is only one part of it. The other concerns the four candles.”
The reference was oblique enough that Crocker needed a second to translate. Then he said, “You know where the missing one is?”
“According to our host, the set was sold intact. Which means the man who bought the first three still has the fourth.”
“You trust your host’s information?”
“Apparently our host was interested in buying the candles himself at one point.”
“Go on.”
“I’m wondering if a reunion between long-lost and his son couldn’t be engineered to somehow bring that last candle out of its box.”
“It’s no use to us if it gets lit.”
“No, it’s a delicate situation. But I think it’s doable. Grandmother might be able to get a message across to big sister.”
“I’m not certain our cousins are going to care for this,” Crocker said. “It’s not the definitive solution they wanted.”
“If we can convince big sister, she can talk to the cousins. And I’m sure the cousins want all of the candles blown out as much as we do. Might be a way to make everyone happy.”
“I’ll talk to Grandmother. If we can arrange the reunion, we’ll set it up through our house there—”
Chace cut him off. “Long-lost has been very clear on one point, Dad. I’m to babysit. Seems he’s reluctant to trust anyone else, especially after last time.”
“That complicates things.”
“It does. I have your permission to proceed?”
“All right,” Crocker said. “You’ll be traveling north?”
“Soon as I can.”
“I’ll contact the family in Tashkent, let them know you’re coming.”
“Very good, sir. Have to go, I can hear the birds in the trees.”
“Take care,” Crocker said, but the line had already gone dead. He removed the headset, handing it back to Putnam absently, thinking for several seconds before saying, “Mike? Signal Tashkent, let them know Minder One is on her way there and should arrive in the next twenty-four to forty-eight as part of Sundown. Stress to Fincher that it’s a Special Op, and that he’s to follow her instructions. I’ll want confirmation of receipt of signal.”