by Jack Dayton
Vance stood there for a moment digesting the fact that he had just gotten the first hint of what laid underneath the lies and intrigue that led to the murders of five people. He turned and walked quickly back to the truck. He was already forming the conversation with Pike about what his next move might be.
Vance hadn’t been able to spill out the results of his confrontation with Kulyak before the back door to the restaurant sprung open and Kulyak moved quickly to the driver’s seat of his SUV. He barely paused long enough to wrap his seatbelt around him before backing up onto the street and punching the accelerator.
“Oscar mike,” Pike intoned as he started his truck and executed a quick Y-turn. He followed the receding taillights of the SUV, his headlights off to avoid Kool’s attention. “Here we go,” was all Vance said as they continued after him at a distance. Vance snapped his seatbelt in place and settled in for wherever the red lights would lead.
Chapter 18
Bing bing bing bing bing bing bing bing . . .
Bing bing bing bing bing bing bing bing . . .
Bonnnng Bonnng Bonnng
The opening bars from ‘Halloween’ broke the silence of the Dr. Avery Quinn’s darkened bedroom. She started, jerking up and then falling back onto her pillow before reaching for the phone. She knew the number would be unfamiliar but when she saw it, she jolted awake. An international number . . . The call from Hassan she had been waiting for.
She cleared her throat before touching the screen.
“Lieutenant Colonel,” her voice husky from sleep but alert.
“Yes, Dr. Quinn, I’m sorry to call now. I know it is early there but you said you were eager to know what I learned.” Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Faraj wasn’t hesitant as much as patient with her middle-of-the-night status. “Can you talk now?”
“Yes, yes, Lieutenant Colonel. I am glad you called. Please. What did you find out about Kulyak?”
“Well, there is not a great deal to tell but there are a few bits of information that may be helpful.”
“Okay, yes, what have you got?”
“He was employed by a US contractor, Worldwide Agri, with a field office here in Qatar. Hired in 2009 to work with the Crop Management Division. He was assigned to Afghanistan to work in Helmand managing poppy farmers transition to wheat farming. He was there until 2012 when the contract ended. After that there isn’t much. There weren’t any follow-on assignments. That is where his file ends.”
“Why was he placed in Afghanistan? I mean, he didn’t really know much about farming, did he?”
“No, his background was unclear but he did speak Pashto and he was Muslim so he was probably brought in as a cultural liaison slash interpreter. I am just guessing but that might explain it.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. He was used to harsh conditions coming from the Chechen resistance. I bet that’s where he learned Pashto. Probably some of his fellow insurgents brought that skill to the fight.” Avery stopped to think for a minute. She didn’t want to let Faraj go without making sure she had gotten everything useful. “Anything else, Lieutenant Colonel? Something that sticks out?”
“Well, there is one thing but it is kind of off topic . . . ”
Avery held her breath for one beat. “What? What is it, Hassan?”
“He has a kind of odd thing here.”
“Yeah?”
“The person he has listed as an emergency contact.”
“What’s odd about it?”
“It’s Etienne Andre.”
“Etienne Andre? The French photojournalist?”
“Yes, you recognize that name?”
“Who doesn’t? His photos of war zones are epic.” She was trying to digest this piece of the puzzle. Why Andre? “You don’t think he was joking, do you? Just a famous name to complete the form.”
“I thought that, too, but he’s got a French contact number here on the form. That goes beyond what most people have if they are just trying to check a box. Plus, any false information is grounds for dismissal so . . . ”
“Wow . . . can you give me that number, Lieutenant Colonel?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t know if it’s still legit but it’s worth a try.” Avery scrambled for the bedside light and a pen. “Okay,” she said. “I’ve got a pen.”
“Dr. Quinn, I don’t know if this is helpful but if you need anything else, please just ask, okay?”
“Lieutenant Colonel, this is a great help and I am forever grateful to you for getting this for me.”
“Oh, no problem, Dr. Quinn. You have been a great friend to me and I didn’t even have to threaten anyone so it’s all good. I’m just joking.”
Avery smiled. “Thank you, Hassan, my friend. I’m ready for the number.”
* * *
Anton Kulyak could drive the route to the drug processing operation in Maryland in his sleep.
It had started at a gritty abandoned factory site in a marginal neighborhood in Baltimore but the exposure there was bound to create problems. Slowly, over time, he had matured the operation into a legitimate seed processing plant, producing a decent supply of sunflower and cottonseed oil with a wholesale distribution network as legitimate as any law-abiding business.
That wasn’t the real cash producer though. The heroin that was hidden in the sacks of seed coming from Pakistan was the real product. And the process of developing that network had stretched even his ability to juggle the competing priorities that came with narcotics distribution hidden beneath a legitimate business. It would have been so much easier to simply sell drugs but the import and production end of the seed business is what made the drug business invisible and profitable.
All it required was quiet, steady attention to the processing business. That was real. That was what kept anyone from questioning what might be going on besides the trucks delivering seed and tankers taking oil. Kool wasn’t a member of the Hagerstown Rotary but his operation was a solid business. Paid its taxes and brought jobs to the area.
That was why Vakha’s role had to be closely managed. He had to do his job. He had to play by the rules. That was why his refusal to keep the factory up to code was so frustrating. If they only pretended to be oil producers, they would get caught. They had to actually be oil producers. Vakha resisted the required conformity. He would always be the insurgent.
Now Kulyak was concerned that Vakha might have gone too far in playing the bad man. It was fine to show your scars, wear a costume but you had to know when to walk away. If not, you were going to get lost. You might forget who you really had to be. Now was the time to catch Vakha before he wandered too far . . . if it wasn’t already too late.
Kulyak drove through the surface streets, assiduously obeying all speed limits. He knew when he got to I-270 he could cut the two-hour drive. He checked his rearview mirror. Traffic was light, just a few cars randomly crossing intersections and a pair of distant headlights reflecting far behind him. He needed to think about how he would deal with Vakha when he got there. That was a far bigger problem than cops or traffic at the moment.
* * *
Pike kept his eyes trained on the distant taillights moving north fast on I-270. Slowly he’d been closing the gap just to keep from losing him. There was no telling when they might drop right off the highway.
Vance’s phone vibrated on the dashboard in front of him. He grabbed it on the second buzz. Dr. Quinn.
“Doc, what’s going on?” Vance wasn’t quite exasperated just preoccupied. “We’re kinda busy here.”
“Gunny, I get it but I needed to get you this information.”
“What information?”
“It’s about Kulyak.”
“Okay, Doc, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Vance tapped the screen. “Pike is here, Doc.”
“Gunny Pike, I’m glad you’re there. Vance needs a responsible adult with him.”
Pike pursed his lips. “Yeah, I guess that honor goes to me, Doc. What’ve ya got?”
“Okay, buckle u
p. I got hold of some information about some of his connections. When he was in Afghanistan, he was working with Worldwide Agri out of Qatar. I called a friend to check on his file. Kulyak had a guy by the name of Etienne Andre listed as an emergency contact.”
“Wait a minute, Doc,” Vance interrupted. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“It probably sounds familiar because he’s an uber famous war photographer. It’s also possible you might have run into him in Iraq or Afghanistan. He is always someplace where people are shooting at each other so there’s a chance you’ve been down range at the same time he was . . . especially since you were in Helmand with Kulyak.”
“I can’t think of any reporters or photographers I might have seen except maybe from Combat Camera. To be honest I was outside the wire more often than in so I doubt I’d have met him. But why is he on Kool’s paperwork?”
“I asked the same question. There were no other connections so I had to go to the source.”
Vance and Pike exchanged glances. “What do you mean? You contacted this photographer?”
“Well, yeah, why not? The number he left was no good anymore but Andre’s photo syndicate had his number so I called it. Just lucky he picked up, maybe because he saw it was a US number in Virginia. I don’t know.”
“What’d he have to say?” Vance couldn’t imagine why this would be important.
“Kulyak came from Grozny and yeah, he was with the Black Angel during the insurgency but before that he was a starving kid on the streets of Grozny, barely surviving with his mother and brother in some bombed out basement. From the way Andre describes it, it was brutal. Almost nothing to eat, Russians ready to overrun the city which had practically been bombed back to the stone age already.”
She continued. “Andre was there in Grozny during the first war taking photos when he got caught in their basement during a bombing raid. Kulyak’s mom kind of took him in and fed him, let him stay in the basement with them before things calmed down and he could get out. She had these two kids, young teens. Both sharp, good-looking kids, good at scavenging and scrounging enough to eat, avoiding the bad guys. Kool was the older one and did the most foraging but the little one was cagey smart and wily.”
“Anyway, when it came time to leave, the mom begged him to take the boys. He felt shitty about it but he didn’t want to risk the kids lives by trying to get them out in the middle of a shooting war. Still, she was desperate and he felt like he should try, since she had probably saved his life but he could only take one. She was frantic, begging. She knew it would come down to a Sophie’s choice and she was torn up about it. It took some time but finally Kulyak stepped up and said he should take his little brother. The mother was wailing but Kool said he wouldn’t leave his mother and the younger boy needed to get out. So that’s what happened. He took the kid with him and did some kind of deal to get him out with a fake French passport.”
“Bottom line is he brought the kid back to Paris, got him in boarding schools, helped him get his advanced education and then a visa to study in the US.”
“Doc, you’re losing me. What does that have to do with Kool?”
“Gunny, the kid’s name on his passport is Kovak. Serge Kovak. They’re brothers, Gunny. Brothers.”
“Fuck,” Gunny lost his composure, his head dropping back onto the headrest.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Gunny Pike was almost smiling now. “You gotta be kidding me. So this guy we are chasing is a brother to that nut job on VisionNet? The conspirancy theory dude?”
“Yeah, remember, I told you we saw him outside the restaurant.” Vance was leaning back with his eyes closed.
Pike was laughing like a maniac. “You cannot make this shit up.”
Dr. Quinn finally spoke up again. “This is a big deal, Gunny. He was at that party and then he’s hanging around outside the restaurant. There is way more to this. You should come home and get NCIS or McLean involved. It’s too complicated.”
Vance inhaled deeply. “No, Doc. We are too close to this to leave now. We are in for the long haul. Pike? You okay with that?”
“Oh, hell, yes. You think we can nail these MF’ers?”
Vance cringed. “To be honest, I don’t know what we are walking into but we can always walk away.” Vance went on. “Okay, Doc. That fills in some blanks. We are on this.”
“Yeah, Doc,” Pike added. “We were born for the fight.”
“Doc, this might not be the fight we wanted but it’s the one we got. We aren’t turning away now. Not when we are this close.”
Avery sighed. “The Marine Corps bias for action . . . You make sure you keep me posted, got it? Otherwise, I’m on my way there with the Quantico PD.”
Vance snorted. “Let’s not get the cavalry saddled up yet. I will keep you in the loop, Doc. Get some sleep.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I’m gonna sleep. Be safe, Marines.”
With that she hung up.
* * *
They followed the truck for almost two hours when the taillights curved off on to a ramp. Hagerstown. They slowed to let Kulyak get onto the state route, turning left off the ramp headed to town. They made the same move keeping a greater distance. There was no traffic now so the chances of him noticing them would make staying closer too risky.
As the SUV moved easily through the streets of the outer communities of Hagerstown, it was clear Kulyak was familiar with the route he had taken. The Route 40 road trailed through a gritty little suburb called Funkstown before the state road gave way to the city street, a bridge across a shallow river leading to an industrial park nestled in a field area, a thicket of woods to the north side. Kulyak turned into a parking lot in front of a warehouse and sat in the truck of his cab for long moments. Pike cut his lights and killed his engine, coasting to the curb a block away from the parked SUV. The dome light in Kulyak’s truck dimly illuminated the interior and showed he was moving something on the seat next to him, then holding it up in front of his face. Vance and Pike exchanged looks.
“I’m thinking an H&;K . . . ” Vance offered.
“He can probably afford it.” Pike checked his own Glock and then back at Vance. “What’s the plan?
“We follow him and find out who he’s so anxious to see. Then we wait until we have the advantage . . . either take him down or take him in.”
“Man, there are about 10,000 things wrong with this plan. The biggest being we don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“I get that, Pike. At least you know the Commander’s Intent.”
“Oh, yeah? What the hell is the Commander’s Intent? And who do you think is the Commander?”
“In this truck cab team we have, I’m the Commander and my intent is to conduct recon on this drug processing operation.”
Pike snorted. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s all I needed to motivate me.”
“The biggest thing I need is back up. Besides, I got a feeling that Russian you had to learn is gonna come in handy.”
“Ooh rah, I guess. You ready?” Pike nodded in the direction of Kool’s parked SUV. Kulyak was getting out and moving toward the door of the warehouse. He entered an open garage door and headed toward the dim light of a door opening to the warehouse space.
“Errr.” Vance responded opening his door.
They moved slowly and deliberately, guns drawn, unsure how many bad guys might be waiting to welcome them. They approached the open garage door, one proceeding to a space from which to cover the other until they were close enough to walk into the darkened opening of the door. Moving against the walls of the garage bay, they made their way to the doorway. The shouting was clearly audible from three feet away. Unfortunately, the meaning of the conversation in a mix of Russian and Chechen, was more problematic.
Vance looked at Pike who shrugged his shoulders. “Some of its Russian but some of it’s somethin’ else,” Pike whispered.
Vance cocked his head. “What can you get?” His heart raced. He had to know what it was about.
&
nbsp; Pike listened intently. “Their arguing about somebody named Kovak. Wait, that’s the TV guy, right? Kulyak’s brother?”
“Yeah. What’re they saying?”
“It’s about some kind of deal. Kulyak is mad because he didn’t know about something . . . wants to know what this guy got for something he did.”
Vance had to know who he was talking to. He edged slowly toward the door. He couldn’t see anything from that angle except Kulyak’s back. He was facing the open space in front of a piece of industrial processing equipment and whomever he was talking to was hidden from Vance to the left. Vance backed away slowly. “You pick up anything else?” He whispered to Pike.
Pike eyes widened. “Yeah, somebody got killed. Kulyak is mad about it. It wasn’t part of the plan.” A short burst of English followed.
“You didn’t have the right to kill him!” Kulyak was losing his legendary cool.
“You work for you, Anton. I work for me. Saca!”
“Vakha, this will take us down!”
Vance pulled back further, signaling for Pike to stay here. He motioned that he was going around the side. Pike rolled his eyes and shook his head. For a moment, Vance hesitated. The worst night of his life was marked by splitting up from his partner but he needed to see what else there was here. He pointed at his left wrist and held up five fingers. Pike shook his head again but then relented, nodding, mouthed “okay” as Vance walked out of the garage bay and went around to the right of the building. He reached the corner and peered out into the darkness. To the left a garage with a massive propane tank was flanked by trucks lined up along the back of the parking lot. A loading dock with bay doors extended across the back of the warehouse. Slowly Vance moved past the corner staying close to the building and hoisted himself up onto the dock. Two of the doors were open and he stealthily crept toward the first open door.
The receiving bay was stacked with bags of seeds to the right and an open passage to the processing floor on the left where Kulyak continued his argument with the person Vance couldn’t see. Silently he crept through the receiving bay stepping on the stray sunflower seeds without making a sound. He stayed in the shadows and moved to the opposite side of the bay, where he could slowly get a look at the factory floor and see who was arguing with Kulyak.
