The Puppetmasters Read online

  “How old were you when your fam—when the fire happened?”

  “I was twelve. I became a man shortly after that. There was no time for play. I soon learned that if I was going to get far in this world, I would need to listen and do as I was told.”

  Kendall felt sad at the events of his early life, and guilty for the easy, charming childhood she had had.

  “Wow! I’m so sorry for you. That’s a tragic story. And now the president owns you, and you do his bidding.”

  Sharif gave her a hard stare. “If that’s what you think, then I have succeeded.” She had no idea what he was referring to. Before she could follow up on his comment, they arrived at the stables and walked around the side to where the paddock opened into a back meadow. Several horses were grazing, their tales flicking flies off their sleek coats.

  “Gorgeous, horses! They look well groomed. I wish I knew how to ride.”

  “If you are here long enough, I will teach you a few things.”

  She looked over to him, “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

  He kicked a tuft of grass at his feet, sending pebbles flying, “Kendall, you should know that the president is very serious. He knows there is funny business going on with your company’s products. He is planning a lengthy stay for all of you, or at least Paul Fields, if need be. He’s asked me to find out everything about you and your company.”

  She sucked in a breath and her eyes grew wide with terror. “Is my life in danger?”

  “I believe it is. That is why you must please the president at all costs. In fact, if Fields angers him, he could take it out on you.”

  “What should I do?”

  “You must become his friend. Maybe even hint that you would like to stay. Kendall, this is for your very survival.”

  “But he kidnapped us and murdered the crew.” She shivered.

  “Oh, grow up! Do something about it! Now it’s your turn to pull one over on him. Just figure out how to do it.”

  She was shocked at his bluntness and completely puzzled as to his motives. He had gotten into her head, and she was now thoroughly confused. In a bitter and vicious tone, she spat out, “You sound very practiced, Mr. Sharif! Do you just go around killing people and getting even when you are in the mood?” She whirled around to stalk into the meadow. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to look at him.

  “Give me some credit, Ms. Radcliffe. What I am asking you to do is to use all of the skills you possess to help yourself.”

  “I have principles, and I’m not going to behave in an undignified, uncivilized manner. You’re asking me to lower myself to your level. Well, I won’t do it! You all can go to hell! I’ll figure out a way to get out of here.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Figure out a way out of here? You need to figure out how to keep your head! At the moment, you mean nothing to the president other than a pretty face. He could order your death tonight! I suggest you get down off that high horse and learn to play the game.”

  She considered her options. “Fine! What do I do right now … today?”

  He was encouraged. “Well, I can help. Do you cook?”

  “Yes. Western meals.”

  “Okay. This afternoon I’ll suggest that you help in the kitchen. In the meantime, are you familiar with the Book of Judith?”

  That came out of left field. Where the heck was he going with that question, she wondered?

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. It was required reading during an undergrad religious studies class … The Bible as Literature. As I recall, the Book of Judith is one of the books of the Apocrypha … the books in the Old Testament that were not recognized as authentic or handed down from God. The story of Judith is seen as more of a legend.”

  “Do you remember what she was known for?”

  “Absolutely! We should all be that brave! On the night before a decisive battle that her tribe was not expected to win, she goes into the other camp and seduces the leader. She cuts off his head while he’s sleeping, and her tribe is saved. How do you know about it?”

  “I majored in religious studies and minored in political science.”

  “What does the Book of Judith have to do with me? Are you suggesting that I go on the offense and cut off President Shazeb’s head?” She shook her finger at him. “If so, I’m not interested. I’ll take my chances on the defense.”

  “I’m not saying that at all. I’m merely telling you that it would be very helpful to you if you learned a little about President Shazeb. What is the saying? ‘Knowledge is power.’ If you get to know him, he’ll let his guard down. You can seize the advantage.”

  “And how do I know you aren’t trying to get me killed or that this isn’t some big game for you? Why would you want to help me? I don’t even know you. You’re the enemy, you know!”

  “Am I the enemy? As a matter of fact, I’ve been waiting for your little group for some time. The fact that you are here makes me believe that all will be right in the future.”

  “What are you hoping for, a promotion?”

  Sharif smiled. “Actually, I am … sort of. We will speak more later, at dinner. Now, I’m going to return you to the base, and will see you this evening.”

  Kendall felt deflated and perplexed. This man spoke in riddles and doubletalk. While she couldn’t be sure, he didn’t seem to harbor any resentment toward her or wish her ill will. But she got the distinct impression that he was holding back on a key bit of information that she needed to know.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “YOU ARE VERY QUIET THIS evening,” Rashid whispered to Kendall. She had barely eaten and was picking at her succulent lamb, basmati rice, and naan. Rather than the traditional Dastarkhan floor spread where everyone sits on the floor and eats with their hands, President Shazeb was anxious to appear enlightened and up on the latest western trends. They were seated at a large traditional dining room table, and the president, his sons and their wives, and the few military officers who knew of the Orion people joined them. The Afghan wives said nothing and appeared fearful, as if they would be severely punished if they spoke out of turn … or maybe even if they spoke at all. Kendall had smiled at the women, but couldn’t summon the strength to carry on a charade of normalcy in the form of polite conversation.

  Kendall was not fond of curry, but loved the juicy khameerbob pasta dumplings that reminded her of the dim sum dishes she enjoyed at home. She took a nibble of a piece of pomegranate and turned her head towards Rashid.

  “I’m just not very hungry. It’s probably that I’m not used to your local cuisine.”

  “It’s all very tasty, Kendall. I see you have not tried the kalah chuquki directly in front of you.”

  To Kendall, it looked like a blob of something that was deep fried. It looked heavy and rich. Her stomach roiled. But she didn’t want to offend anyone. She poked it, and saw that it had a crispy outer shell. “It looks like large fish and chips. What is it, if I may ask?”

  She noticed the twinkle in his eyes as he remarked in deadpan tone, “Deep fried bird heads”. Oh Lord, the very thought made her want to gag.

  The president sitting two seats to her left at the head of the table, noticed her small appetite. With a booming voice, he commented, “Kendalljan, I hope you are not ill too? It is most unfortunate that Carson Khan could not join us.”

  Kendall forced herself to perk up, and shook her head at the Aghan leader. “I feel fine, sir. I’m just a little tired from the travel.” She wanted to add and the stress, but didn’t dare. After being told she was collateral damage, she couldn’t afford to offend her “host.”

  “Did you enjoy your meeting with Rashid? Were you able to tour some of our lovely grounds?”

  Shazeb’s two sons sitting across from each other immediately glared at one another and listened with rapt attention. The salacious looks they cast at Kendall made her fearful and relieved that she had been paired with Rashid earlier in the day.

  She could see t
hat the two sons hated each other. They were rivals and probably competed for everything … starting with women. But they clearly underestimated Rashid and saw him as nothing more than their loyal friend, carrying out his duties at the behest of the president. In fact, they weren’t jealous of Rashid at all. Rashid never had women around him, and didn’t seem to even notice a woman. What they didn’t understand was that Rashid’s interest was more subtle. Because he was not a blood relative, he was never going to risk the displeasure of the two brothers, not to mention their father, the president. Rashid had obligations and responsibilities far beyond the daily activities of the leader’s household. Besides, the president had always looked to Rashid to keep the peace between the brothers. That was Rashid’s number one directive.

  What baffled her most was that the president seemed to enjoy the sibling loathing. He took pleasure at the obvious ill will between the two. One could even say that he stoked it for his own amusement.

  Kendall looked up from her musings. “Yes, we went to the stables and out to the meadow.” Kendall caught the not-so-subtle wink President Shazeb threw to Rashid. He clapped his hands together.

  “Excellent! We are all getting to know each another. Kendalljan, you are free to visit the stables any time you want, so long as you are accompanied by someone … preferably Rashid.”

  Shazeb turned his attention to Paul Fields, and his eyes darkened. “Well, Fields Khan, did you get a full tour of our computer systems? Are you impressed?”

  Fields knew enough not to antagonize the leader. He nodded, wiping his mouth on his white-on-ivory linen quatrefoil patterned napkin embossed with the family crest. “Please call me Paul. I am very impressed. Your son has done a remarkable job in the system design.”

  The president turned to his eldest. “And what do you think of Fields—er, uh, Paul, Saaqib?”

  His oldest son was quick to show his importance and competence and sought to embellish his meeting with Paul Fields. “Paul is an expert at computer systems, and made some good suggestions for maintaining our systems in peak order.”

  The Afghan leader was irritated at all the fluff and pandering. “Fine, fine, fine. But I expect a full report tomorrow on how we can, shall we say, improve our processes. If progress is made tomorrow, I think I might make time to contact your home office.” With that proclamation, the president turned to Rashid.

  “Rashid, my son, you should take Kendall out to the back gardens. There is a full moon tonight.” Shazeb gave a nauseating laugh that sent a shiver down Kendall’s spine. But for tonight, she was elated at the thought that someone might finally learn of her fate.

  She knew that her friend and neighbor, Heather Jacobs, would come looking for her … eventually. But they usually spoke only a couple times a week. They had a girls’ night out once a month, and it was set for two days from now. Kendall could only hope that word got out to either Heather or Gwen Albertson soon, and that the Orion three would be saved. She didn’t have much family. Her father had passed away from cancer a few years earlier. Her mother lived by herself in a beachfront cottage in the picturesque seaside community of Redondo, south of Seattle. Several times a year, Kendall took her mother to Sunday brunch at Salty’s in Redondo. The nostalgia brought tears to Kendall’s eyes. Would she ever see her friends and mother again? This whole surreal experience made her very angry. Her father had always taught her to dig deep when the chips were down, to fight as if her very life depended on it. She had the feeling she was going to need that strength in the very near future.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  KENDALL AND RASHID STROLLED OUT to the wide patio in the back of the palace. He could tell she was sad, maybe even despondent. She spoke little but was willing to listen to him. In order to take her mind off her present circumstances, he told her of the sacred shrine of the Blue Mosque and the giant Buddha statues in the Bamiyan Valley that were destroyed by the Taliban. He suggested that if they had time, they should visit those sites. He also regaled her with the ancient stories of Alexander the Great, and how his cultural influence lasted for centuries. Rashid was very proud of the fact that Alexander the Great spoke of Afghanistan as “easy to march into but hard to march out of”.

  “Yes. You must not underestimate the difficulty of leaving Afghanistan.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Ah!” He was delighted Kendall was finally showing an interest in the conversation. “I am sure you noticed that here in Kabul we are in a valley surrounded almost entirely by mountains. Basically, Afghanistan is landlocked. There is no escaping via a nearby seaport.”

  “And why would I care about that? Are you telling me that escape is all but hopeless, Mr. Sharif?”

  “Oh, please, Kendall. We are now friends, and you must call me Rashid. And no, escape is not hopeless. But you must have the right plan.”

  “Which is …?”

  “Afghanistan is at the center of several major trade routes. But some of our neighbors are not exactly friends. For you, they could be dangerous.”

  “Like who?”

  “Well, Pakistan is east of Afghanistan, and Iran is southwest. The easiest way out of Kabul is through the nearby Khyber Pass. But that is mountainous and leads you right into Pakistan. The route would be too obvious. However, there are several major rivers that run near Kabul. The largest and best way out would be by the Helmand River. It’s the longest river in Afghanistan. You could get to it in about an hour, but it flows right into the Helmand Province.” He didn’t bother to tell her that navigating that river would also mean encountering at least one hydroelectric dam, depending on which tributary one took.

  “That sounds good.”

  “Not necessarily. Are you familiar with the Helmand Province?”

  “No. Should I be?”

  His voice was wry when he responded, “It’s only the largest region in the world in the production of opium, which also happens to be owned by your host, President Shazeb. You would be headed straight into the lion’s den … again, the enemy.”

  Kendall sighed and threw up her arms. “I don’t know why you are talking to me of escape. It seems impossible, and I think you’re having a laugh at my expense. Why would you help me escape and jeopardize your head too?”

  Rashid carefully weighed his response and intoned, “My motives are not exactly to help you, so much as they are to expedite my plans.”

  She was frustrated and, frankly, scared. “Your plans! Your plans! What are you referring to? What plans? And why do you have plans?” she ranted.

  He realized he was getting a little head of himself. He grabbed her arm and moved close to her so that his face was only inches from hers. His voice was barely a whisper, “Kendall, you must trust me. There is more going on here than I can explain this evening. It’s getting late. I shall reveal more tomorrow. Please trust me that only I can help you.” He pulled her hajib down and stroked the escaping tendrils of hair in a smooth motion and ran his finger down her cheek in a soft caress. He smelled of exotic juices. She wanted to touch him, but didn’t trust herself.

  She contemplated the alternatives. There was no way she was going to accept everything he said as the truth. But she was willing to listen or at least appear as if she believed him. “Maybe. But I thought you were supposed to be finding out about me? You haven’t really asked me any questions … personally or professionally. Why? I’m confused.”

  He was getting annoyed. “Let’s see. You travel a lot for Orion Premier, testifying in court cases. Your good friends are Gwen Albertson from Orion and Heather Jacobs, your neighbor. Your Jewish boyfriend, Jeremy Levy, recently broke up with you when his mother forced him to quit his job in Seattle to move to Florida and run the family banking business. She has also promised to release his trust funds. How am I doing so far?”

  Kendall gasped, and croaked, “How can you possibly know those things? Not even my friends know about my breakup with Jeremy yet. Do Shazeb and his security people know all of this too? Why?”

 
Rashid knew he had shocked her and shook his head. “No. They know nothing.”

  “But how do you know these things, if they do not?”

  He sighed, “It’s very complicated, Kendall. I only told you these things so that you would believe there’s a larger plan. I will tell you more tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

  “If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll have to. Also, uh, there’s one more thing.”

  “Oh God, what now?”

  “You must pay attention to the sounds you hear tonight. There is a nightly ritual that was canceled last night.”

  She was almost too afraid to inquire further, but pushed ahead, “And what is it?”

  “Punishments are handed out in the courtyard near your rooms. You can’t see them, because you don’t have windows, but you will be able to hear the screams. Please don’t be frightened. They sound awful. But so long as you are careful and don’t confide in anyone else, you should be safe.”

  Her eyes widened with horror. “I’m in a nightmare that I’ll never get out of. I must be dreaming.”

  He grabbed her face between his large, strong hands. “Stop it! I’m only telling you this to save you from freaking out tonight! Punishment is a way of life around here. Shazeb thinks that it keeps the citizens—and more importantly, the military—in line … through fear. The person is whipped and then may or may not be beheaded.”

  She was furious at the revelations and pushed his arms away. “And you partake of these activities?”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t. But there is nothing I can do about it. There are many willing participants. This activity happens to be the highlight of Saaqib’s day. He can’t wait to get in there and have a go at several prisoners. The president expects me to … again … keep the peace and make sure the punishments do not get out of hand.”

  “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

  “That the whole process deteriorates into a killing frenzy of the guilty as well as the innocent.”