“Captain? Will you show Miss Cherkshan the way to her bath?”
“Of course. This way, miss.” Fitrat took the lead and headed off with Anna in tow.
“Thomas?”
Hefting his backpack one more time, Lourds fell into step behind Layla and followed her upstairs to another floor of the building.
“Captain Fitrat has men in the alley and on top of this building.” Layla talked as she walked up the stairs.
Lourds couldn’t see the sway of her hips beneath her burqa, but he recalled the times he had, and the memory made his heart pound with anticipation.
“So we will be relatively safe as long as we are here.”
“Relatively safe?”
Layla glanced back at him. “If whoever is after you decides to bomb the building from an airplane, there will be definite problems, yes?”
“Yes, most definitely. And thank you for that delightful scenario. That was one that I hadn’t considered, and it is now number one with a bullet.”
The room held all the amenities of a good hotel room without being lavish. There was a large bed, a love seat and two chairs, and a desk in the corner. A television sat atop a chest of drawers.
Lourds looked at the bed. “Big bed.”
Layla smiled at him. “I am afraid we will not be sharing it. Captain Fitrat is a progressive thinker compared to most men in this country, but many of his men are not.”
Disappointed, Lourds nodded. “I understand.”
“However, that is not to say that we cannot have private conferences.” Layla smiled at him.
Lourds placed his backpack on the bed. “Feeling up to having a private conference?”
“I do. However, I was thinking that perhaps you needed someone to scrub your back.”
Smiling, Lourds took her by the hand. “As it turns out, I do. You said there was a bath?”
She began disrobing and laid her clothes neatly on the bed. Getting undressed took her a while, but Lourds enjoyed the show, and his pulse quickened when she finally stood nude before him.
“I’ve missed you.” Lourds took her into his arms.
“I have missed you as well.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she stared at him. “When I heard the news about the attack at the dig site, I was so afraid I would never see you again.”
Lourds shook his head and held her. “That didn’t happen. I’m here.”
Layla traced his goatee and his lips with a forefinger. Her touch was so light it sent chills down his spine. “I know.” Her eyes glistened. “But those men — whoever they are — seem very determined.”
“Yes.”
“Is there any way you can walk away from this?”
Lourds hesitated. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to know the secret the scrolls held. He wanted to get some kind of justice for Boris’s death. Walking away would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
But for the first time in his life, he knew he could do it.
“All you have to do is ask.”
For a moment, Layla stared quietly at him. “You would do this for me?”
“Yes.”
“I am flattered.”
“Layla, I love you. That’s just how it is.”
“I know that. But if I asked you to do this thing, and you did, there would be a piece of you that forever wondered if you could find whatever it is these people are looking for.”
“The tomb of Alexander the Great, for whatever reason they want it.”
She nodded. “Exactly.” She took a breath and let it out. “I will not ask you to do that then. I ask only that you be careful.”
“I will.” Lourds’s heart sang.
“I am going to hold you to that.” Layla stood on tiptoe and kissed Lourds, pressing her body full-length against his. Then she turned and led him to the bath.
27
Cherkshan stood in front of the map with the projected troop movements of the invasion force he was sending into the Ukraine tomorrow. If all went well, and he expected that it would, the Russian army would occupy a strategic position inside Krasnodon, one of the major cities in the Luhansk Oblast across the Ukrainian border. From there, they would move steadily across the country to take Kiev over the next few days.
He expected to have no more trouble taking Ukraine than the Americans had in taking Iraq either time they had invaded that country. What would be interesting to see would be the reaction from the rest of the world.
The general’s stomach churned as he looked at the map and the magnetic markers that represented the T-90 main battle tanks and armored divisions he was going to use to invade the Ukraine. No matter how easy the task ended up being, he was sending young men out to die. He had seen many of them killed in the unrest in Chechnya. It stuck with a man, especially a commander.
For months, the Russian army had been running maneuvers in the area just across the Ukrainian border. Enough so that the Ukrainian military border surveillance teams had grown lax in their observation. They hadn’t noticed that the Russian tanks they saw every day were different tanks, not the same ones they had seen before. The buildup of cavalry units had taken months as well.
There, in the nearby forests, the Russian army had built up units hidden beneath camouflaged netting. Planes had likewise been brought in to nearby military airfields and would be deployed to fly close-in support for the ground units and the army.
Everything was prepared.
In the morning, the Ukraine — and the rest of the world — would be greatly surprised, and people would die. But if Cherkshan had done his job properly, not as many people would die.
The trick was to achieve an early psychological victory by sending a mass of heavy armor in and supporting it with air strike teams to keep the Ukrainian people from being foolish. They had to be shown that resistance was futile, or they would get bloody.
Cherkshan intended to cut the number of losses, and he was depending on the people within the Ukraine who wanted a true leader and a true direction again. Nevsky hadn’t had to sell him on that part of the sales pitch. Cherkshan knew there were dissatisfied people in the Ukraine as well. Their own government had robbed them blind, left them nearly destitute. All he had to do was provide a reason for them to help bring their country back into the Russian fold.
It will happen. First the Ukraine will fall. Then we go after Greece.
Cherkshan’s phone rang. He took it from his pocket, expecting it to be Nevsky wanting to discuss some almost-forgotten detail of the campaign. Instead, it was Katrina, his wife.
“Hello. How are you, my dear?”
“I am well. I am wishing you were home instead of staying wherever it is you’re staying. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Our daughter called.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
Cherkshan was slightly troubled by the announcement. He would have liked to have heard Anna’s voice for himself. When she’d hung up on him yesterday, he had spent hours worrying over her till she contacted her mother. He’d continued watching the news of the terrorist attack on the Afghanistan dig site. It was the first time Anna had ever been in such dangerous circumstances.
But that silence and refusal to communicate was the way it was between them. The incredible void between them refused to be crossed. He looked at the map again.
I can take the Ukraine in a matter of hours, but I have lost the ability to speak to my daughter.
“Where is she, Katrina?”
“In Kandahar.” His wife took a deep breath and let it out. “This distresses me, Anton. I have seen that city in the news. It is a very dangerous place.”