“Nice gun,” Bernadette said.
“I took it off a Taliban last week. Made in Germany, full clip of ten bullets,” Lackey said, narrowing her eyes, “If you happen to shoot Caprinski in the head after you’ve found Lund and the robe, I won’t miss him.” She looked back in her desk. “And take this with you.” She pushed across a mini tape recorder. “He’ll deny everything unless you get him on tape.”
Bernadette checked the safety on the gun. She placed it in the front pocket of her jacket with the tape recorder. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
Bernadette walked out of the consulate checking her calls as she got back into the rickshaw. There’d been one from Jason. She dialed his number.
“You have anything from the cleric?” Bernadette asked when Jason answered.
“Yeah, he said there was a night watchman in the shrine that night.”
“Why didn’t he mention him before? He’s not even in the police report.”
“The imam told the cleric not to mention him.”
“Did the watchman see anything?”
“The cleric said the watchman told him he saw Lund take the robe back from Chris after he handed it to him. He said he was standing by the front door when the lights went out. But he could still see the exchange,” Jason said.
“Did he say where the imam was standing?”
“He said the imam was standing by the front door. Then the lights went out and he couldn’t see much after that.”
“How’d you get him to tell you, he wouldn’t tell me anything?” Bernadette asked.
“That’s simple. You are a non-believer, and to some Muslims it’s okay to lie to you,” Jason said. “Now, I’m a Muslim, and to lie to another Muslim is very bad—but there’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“The cleric thinks the imam is up to something from what the watchman said.”
“What was it?”
“I’m not sure how to explain. He said that the imam stood with Lund by the door and then came back in. The watchman thought it was some kind of a game. He kept saying it looked like rugby.”
“Did he say if the imam was carrying anything? Did he have anything in his hands, a bulge in his cloak?”
“No, that’s just it, he said the imam had nothing in his hands. The watchman was at a loss to explain it.”
“I wonder why the cleric would tell you that?”
“He is more afraid of losing the robe than the wrath of the imam. He’s been guarding that cloak for most of his life. To him, everyone is a suspect until his precious robe is back,” Jason said.
“Sounds like a sequel to the Lord of the Rings,” Bernadette said.
Jason chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does. What are you up to?”
“I had an interesting meeting with our Lackey. She confirmed my suspicions about Caprinski. He’s my next stop.”
“I’m on my way. I can be there in a half hour,” Jason said
“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” Bernadette replied. She ended the call and put on the burka, then gave instructions to Mohammad. The rickshaw erupted into its blue cloud of smoke and they were off. Bernadette felt the outline of the handgun under her garment. It felt good.
44
Sardar Agha surveyed the room. It was packed. The tribes had sent their imams. This morning he would be swift, the infidel must die. He directed everyone to watch the video, the two men stood at the entrance of their sacred museum. Many an imam gasped as they realized infidels had held Mohammed’s sacred robe—to them an obvious death sentence.
The video ended, and Sardar rose from his chair, clearing his throat. “You have seen with your own eyes that these men stole the sacred robe.”
“Why has the robe not been recovered?” Abdul-Bari shouted.
Of all the imams to ask a question, Sardar hated Abdul-Bari the most, he had to take a breath before he answered to calm his anger.
Sardar raised both his hands. “We have offered the man a quick death if he tells us the where the robe is. He seems to hold his tongue for his compatriot. We think the other man, Lund, has taken the robe to Europe to sell it to the highest bidder.”
Shouts of “outrageous, a sacrilege, criminal,” filled the room.
Sardar nodded his head in agreement. He waited until they quieted down. “It is my opinion, and I await the approval of my esteemed brothers, that this man be put to death immediately.”
An imam, stood up in the back. “But what of our rule of law? Will this man not be tried in court?”
The room erupted in a general condemnation of his suggestion.
“I know that normally this would be placed into the hands our country’s legal system. The trial could drag on for months, while in the meantime, the criminal, this infidel would remain unpunished for his crime.” Sardar surveyed the room and lowered his voice. “And, as we all know, in many cases these criminals are let off on a legal technicality.”
“Death to the infidel,” an imam shouted in the front of the room. His words were taken up into a chant in the room.
Sardar tried not to let his lips show a smile. He lowered his head and placed his hands on his chest at the simple command the room had made.
Chris sat in his cell. He gazed at a stream of sunlight on the floor, trying to imagine its warmth. He had just had a visit from his lawyer. It was the strangest conversation.
The lawyer came in. He wore an ill-fitting suit and his beard was sparse. Chris couldn’t recall his name. All he did remember was that a religious tribunal had met. They had reviewed the evidence. Chris was to be sentenced to death.
“Is there an appeal?” Chris had asked.
“No, there is no appeal in the case,” the waif of a lawyer said.
“When will the sentence be carried out?” Chris asked. His voice had sounded surreal, as if he was asking about someone else.
The lawyer gulped, his skinny neck with its too large Adams apple bobbed. “I fear…as soon as tomorrow. But, you must know, something…” The lawyer said. “The imams will not allow you to be drugged for your execution.” His tone was apologetic.
“Well, I hate drugs anyway. Tell them thanks if you see them.” Chris replied. He remembered Cameron telling him of men he’d seen in Saudi dragged in a daze to a place called ‘chop chop’ square to the executioner. He didn’t like the idea of his last moments on this earth being in a fog.
The little man had left, his baggy suit wafting out of the cell, leaving behind only this stream of sunlight.
45
The rickshaw barely made it up a small incline to Caprinski’s security office. Jebran was making motions with his hands to will the little contraption to make it. Somehow it did. Jebran turned to Bernadette with a toothless grin, as if he had something to do with it.
The same two large-scale security guards were outside. The one named Vince eyed them with disdain. Bernadette threw off her burka. There was no way she was going in with that restricted garment. She turned on the tape recorder and felt the gun in her pocket.
She scanned the street and saw no sign of Jason. Checking her cell phone, she saw a text message from him. He was having trouble getting through a checkpoint and would be there in about an hour. Could she wait? That was obvious—not possible.
Walking towards Vince and his large bookend partner, she smiled. “Hey guys, mind if I just see Caprinski for a minute. I need to do a little follow-up.”
Vince raised his size X-Large hand with the half leather glove. “No way. Caprinski is moving house. He’s got a lot of work to do.”
“Oh, so the security outfit is closing down?” Bernadette asked.
“Yeah, but that’s none of your business. Now leave.” Vince replied. He stuck his hand back in his web belt and stuck his chest and his chin out in a defiant stance.
Bernadette smiled. “Now, Vince, I know you’re real busy, but I just need a minute with your boss, I promise I won’t be a problem.”
“The problem is you don’t
listen. Now shove off,” Vince said, his voice rising.
Bernadette almost moved her hand to her jacket. If she pulled a gun on them she might have to use it. She needed to think of something to get by these two doorstops.
Mohammed brushed past her. “You no speak to lady with such words.” Jebran limped beside him.
Vince laughed. “Really old man? Maybe you’re all muhajadeen and all, but you got nothing. Now take your crippled friend and this silly bitch in that little piece of shit—”
Bernadette couldn’t believe how fast Mohammed and Jebran were. Mohammed threw a throat punch into Vince. He stumbled back. Jebran swept the legs from the other one by balancing himself on his AK-47 and sweeping his peg leg under his feet.
Within seconds, both guards were on the ground with the business ends of AK-47’s pointed at them.
“You must show respect to this woman,” Mohammed said.
“Sure, sure,” Vince said with his hands up.
Bernadette looked down at them. “As I said, I’ll just be a minute. Sorry, but my guys can be a bit rough.” She stepped over them unable to keep the grin off her face.
The hallway was the same, musty, messy and the cat hadn’t moved. It looked just as uninterested as before. When she got to Caprinski’s office, she found him hunched over a box as he filled it with files.
“I hear you’re leaving town,” Bernadette said.
Caprinski’s head shot up and his eyes went wide. “How’d you get in here?”
“Your guys outside, they had a change of heart on letting me in,” Bernadette replied as she took a chair in front of the desk. “How about if you take just a moment to answer a couple of questions I have.”
“My flight leaves in three hours. I got a lot of stuff to do.” Caprinski said. He continued to fill the box.
Bernadette pulled out her gun and chambered a round with a loud click. “I think you can spare a few minutes.”
“Wait—there’s no reason to get all violent,” Caprinski said.
Bernadette arched an eyebrow as she raised the gun in line with his chest. “Really, Chris is in jail and chances are the imams will sentence him to death for something he didn’t do. Something I’m pretty sure you helped manufacture—”
“Now hold it. How are you bringing me into this?”
“Simple. I had a talk with Lackey. She’s pretty sure you got the surveillance times for satellites and drones from her. You helped Lund slip away. He wasn’t there by the way, when we found Chris. But then you probably knew that.”
“Lackey is a drunk.”
“Yep, she sure is, she admitted it and told me you used her. So here we are, me with this nice German handgun with big ass bullets and you with answers. What’s it going to be answers or bullets?”
“You can’t coerce me to talk with a gun. That would never hold up in a court of law.”
“Really? What law are we talking about? The law of this country where everything is done by a bullet?’ Bernadette laughed. “You know the courts here are mostly bullshit. They get the answers and verdict they’re looking for. I’m here with you and ten bullets. Each bullet is seeking an answer; each bullet is a juror of your peers. Now start talking.”
Caprinski raised his hands. “Look, I’ll answer anything you want. Just don’t kill me. I got a family.”
“That’s a lie,” Bernadette said with deadly calm. She raised the gun in line with his head. “That kind of bullshit will get you a head shot instead of shot in the arm. Now, do you want to tell the truth or do I end this interview and your life?”
“Whoa, okay, you got me. I have no family,” Caprinski said, putting his hand in front of him.
“Better answer. Now, why did you let Lund escape the warlord’s village?” Bernadette said lowering the gun down to his chest line.
Caprinski let out a sigh of relief. “This whole plan was Lund’s idea. He planned to steal the robe and take it out of the country. He figured he’d set up Chris for it, him being the Canadian and all. That way we wouldn’t have any big search from the American Forces. Sorry about that.”
Bernadette shook her head. “Yeah, life’s a bitch, now where is Lund…and where is the robe?”
Caprinski shrugged. “Lund is probably in Paris right now, sipping champagne, quaffing oysters and laughing at how he screwed all of us. I was supposed to pick him up a week after, but he paid the warlord off and had someone take him out through Iran.”
“So, you’re saying he double crossed you?”
“You got it,” Caprinski said with a nod of his head towards the box on the floor. “Look, I can show you the tickets I had booked for Lund and me.”
“Pick them up slowly,” Bernadette said getting out of the chair. She wanted to see exactly what he was getting out of the box. “If you pull a gun out of that box, I put a bullet in your head.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Caprinski said in a pissed off tone. He knelt down to the box rummaging around in it. “I know I got it—yeah here it is.”
Bernadette heard a loud alarm bell beside her. She turned towards it. A projectile came at her head. She fell backwards.
46
Bernadette opened her eyes. Caprinski was sitting on her chest with her arms pinned. Her feet were under the desk and a gun pointed at her head.
“So, how’s it feel? I’ve planned that little distraction for some time. Best thing I ever did, everyone looks at an alarm. Now, my little bitch, I can put a bullet in you, dump your body in the street, and go catch my plane. Some Afghani policeman will find you, file a report, and you’ll be one of the many killed in a day in this god forsaken country.”
“You should have left when I had that welcome committee blow up your truck at the airport. But no, you had to stick around. And the guy on the motorcycle, you didn’t get that message either.” He cocked the gun. “Maybe now you’ll get the message.”
“Tell me the truth, Caprinski,” Bernadette pleaded. “You owe me that at least before you kill me. Where the hell is Lund, where is the robe? I know you’re feeding me bullshit—at least tell me the truth before you kill me.” She was stalling him, hoping Mohammed and Jebran would come in.
“Ah, the real truth. Why not?” Caprinski laughed. He pulled a set of keys from around his neck. “I hold the key to everything right here. I always have. I had everything put together until that damn imam decided to screw it all up—”
Caprinski was stopped in mid-sentence by the butt of Mohammed’s AK-47.
Bernadette rolled to her side and got up. She bowed to Mohammed and thanked him. She wanted to say, “Where the hell were you?” but timing is everything. Bending down, she took the keys off of Caprinski’s neck. There was writing and a symbol on the keys, plus a number. She needed a translator.
With Mohammed’s help, Bernadette found some rope to tie up Caprinski. She’d have Lackey pick him up and give him to Kahn. Walking out of the office, she saw Jason get out of an old Toyota Camry. The car looked more beat up than the last one.
Jason walked up to Bernadette “I take it you missed Caprinski?”
“No, I met him.”
“And it went okay?”
“No, not at all, but I’m alive. Look, I’ve got to find out what these keys are all about,” Bernadette said, showing them to Jason.
“This looks like the name of a company. I’m not good at reading Pashtou. Let’s go ask Reza,” Jason said.
She walked out into the sunlight; it felt good to be alive. Taking out her phone, she dialed Lackey. “Hey Lackey. I found Caprinski and I got his confession on tape…but here’s the thing. I can leave the tape here, but you might want to doctor it a bit.”
Lackey chuckled. “Thanks for covering my ass. Did he tell you where Lund is?”
“No, but I got a lead. Hopefully I’ll find out soon.”
“Callahan, there’s something you need to know.”
“What’s up?”
“The court of the imam’s gave Chris the death sentence.”
&n
bsp; “How long has he got?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Lackey said.
Bernadette gripped the phone. “Those sons a bitches. They want him dead in a hurry.”
“Yeah, someone wants Chris’s death to prove they have punished the thieves, but they still have no robe,” Lackey said.
“I’m going to find that robe,” Bernadette said.
“Look, I know I’ve been a bitch by helping bring Chris in, but I was acting under orders. I have no orders now. If you need help in finding the robe, if you need some muscle, I’ll send you a team. Sergeant Hammer and his guys are good. Let me know if you need them.”
“Thanks, I’ll let you know,” Bernadette said, ending the call. She turned to Jason. “We need to find Reza and get the answer to the keys, now!”
She ran with Jason to his car. He fired it up, and spun the tires as they hit the road. Mohammed and Jebran would stay with the suspects until the police arrived. Lackey had assured Bernadette that one of the policemen was in her pay, and he would make sure the tape came to her first.
They arrived at Reza’s place. It was a little place in a row of mud-washed houses on a narrow side street. The usual dogs and chickens wandered in the road, looking for food.
Jason and Bernadette got out of the car and Reza met them at the door.
Bernadette thrust the keys towards Reza, “We don’t have much time. They are executing Chris tomorrow morning. What do these keys mean?”
Reza took the keys, putting them up to the light. “I know of this place. This a storage facility near the airport.”
“Let’s go there,” Bernadette commanded.
“One second,” Reza pleaded. He ran inside, told his wife where he was going, and put his hat on.
Almas came running out and rushed into Bernadette, hugging her hard. “Bernadette, me go with you.”
Bernadette knelt down and brushed his hair. “Sorry, not now. We’ll come back for you.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Caught In The Crossfire: A Bernadette Callahan Mystery Page 23
