Twist and Turn

by Tim Tigner

  I passed the Charger.

  No activity.

  I put my phone in selfie mode and angled the screen toward the windshield, giving myself a rearview mirror. Someone was behind the wheel. Someone dark skinned with black hair. It was Oz!

  I turned to confirm.

  Our eyes met.

  His grew wide.

  I heard the store’s doors swish open as I reached for my gun.

  I stole a glance and saw Katya. Katya! She was alive! My Katya was alive!

  She looked healthy enough, but was oddly dressed. She wore jeans and work boots and a polo shirt with a corporate logo on the pocket. Under her right arm was a white box the size of a small microwave oven.

  Her face lit up when our eyes met, but then filled with fear.

  Where was Sabrina? I’d expected to see her on Katya’s tail.

  Oz opened his door.

  I turned his way and raised my gun.

  Katya yelled, “Achilles, don’t shoot!”

  83

  So Close

  Florida

  KATYA had endured a lot of emotional whipsawing in her life, but the past few minutes broke the record. The first lash came at the checkout counter. She had hoped to pen a note while signing the receipt, but Sabrina had been too clever. She stood just a few feet away, pretending to inspect the offerings of a battery display rack while her gestures and charms kept the clerk preoccupied.

  Katya had no doubt that Oz would detonate the belt if she made any overt plea for help. Her only question was whether he planned to detonate it in any case. For all Katya knew, this was her last act. Supplying terrorists with explosive equipment. In five minutes, she might be dead in the trunk of a stolen car.

  Her hope was that they needed her for many more such acts. As nerve-racking as they would be, each would leave crumbs for Achilles to find. She prayed he’d catch up before the errands ran out.

  Heading for the door, her purchase complete, Katya was surprised that Sabrina didn’t immediately follow. She hung back. Probably to ensure that Katya hadn’t left clues behind, and the clerk didn’t pick up the phone.

  Then she saw him. Achilles was right there in front of her, separated by just twenty feet of gravel parking lot. He wasn’t dead!

  Her heart flooded with joy, but the warmth only lasted a second before a cold wave of fear crashed. Oz was getting out of the car. The black box was in his hand.

  “Achilles, don’t shoot!” she screamed.

  Oz raised the black box to show that his thumb was on the red rocker switch. “Put the gun down before anybody sees you, Achilles. Don’t force me into a corner.”

  “Do it, Kyle,” Katya said. She used her left hand to lift her shirt, exposing the beige canvas belt while silently cursing Oz for being so diabolically clever. Achilles couldn’t make a move without sacrificing his queen. Checkmate.

  Or was it?

  Could she act? What could she do? Should she sacrifice herself? They were very likely going to kill her anyway. At least this way, Achilles would kill them too. And stop whatever it was they were plotting. But what was that? Beyond serenity, tranquility and an Arabic medal, she didn’t have much in the way of clues.

  Achilles didn’t drop the Glock. He returned it to his waistband.

  “Put it on the ground!” Oz commanded. “Use your shoe to cover it with gravel, then walk back to your car.”

  Katya hated to see Achilles disarmed, although that beat being shot. She knew that Oz had two guns with him, even though he’d flashed neither. He obviously wanted to avoid attention.

  But what was his next move?

  Was he going to lock Achilles in the trunk of his own car? Or would he have Sabrina drive him someplace? No, Oz wouldn’t split his team up that way, Katya decided. And he didn’t need to. As long as Oz held her hostage, Achilles was neutralized.

  Achilles appeared to come to the same conclusion.

  He went along.

  He used his shoe to swipe a swath of gravel aside, then laid his gun on the bare patch. This gave Katya an idea. She angled her body so that the right side was toward Oz, then quickly ran her left hand up the inside of her shirt, grabbed the medal, and brought her hand back to her side. While Achilles kicked gravel over his Glock, she dropped the medal by her foot then stepped on it.

  Just then, Sabrina walked outside. Had she seen the secretive move? Katya didn’t know. She’d been focused on Achilles and Oz.

  “We’re okay,” Sabrina said. “I knocked over a display and kept them distracted.”

  Katya took that as a no. Now she just had to make Achilles aware of the medal without alerting her captors.

  “I love you, Achilles,” Katya said.

  He met her eye. “I love you, too.”

  She flicked her eyes toward the ground. Just two quick moves. Then she ground her left foot a few times and blew him a kiss.

  Achilles turned to Oz. “I’m not leaving without her. And you’re not leaving with her.”

  “Wrong on both counts. But you’ll be together again soon enough, if you both behave. What’s your phone number?”

  Achilles recited a number that Katya didn’t recognize, but she immediately memorized. If there was one thing she was good at, it was numbers.

  Oz typed as Achilles talked, then Achilles’ phone rang. “It’s a video call. Answer it with video.”

  Achilles did.

  “Now here’s what you’re going to do,” Oz said, live and on the small screen. “You’re going to go sit in the back seat of your car, and you’re going to stare into the camera. You’re not going to look anywhere but into the camera until I hang up. If your eyes wander, the next thing you’ll see is Katya exploding from the inside out. Are we clear?”

  “How do I know you won’t kill her anyway?” Achilles asked.

  “Because despite some evidence to the contrary, Sabrina and I like the two of you. This affair isn’t personal, it’s business. We proved that when we spared your lives back in Nevada.

  “Once I hang up the phone you’re going to go to a hotel on the beach, one with room service. You’re going to sit in your room and watch the waves. You’re going to wait for me to call and tell you where to pick up Katya.

  “While you wait, I’m going to be watching your phone’s location. It better be in such a room an hour from now, otherwise, you lose. If I call and you don’t answer the phone, you lose. Are were clear?”

  “We’re clear.”

  “Do we have an agreement?”

  “We do.”

  “Good. Now, go get in the back seat of your car, and know that while I watch your face on my phone, Sabrina is going to be listening to the police band. We’ll be listening in until our work is done. And just to avoid another stupid but deadly mistake, you should know we have a friend, a good friend, a close friend, high up in the FBI.”

  84

  Picture Perfect

  Florida

  I HAD NEVER been more pained or frustrated in my life than I was while sitting there watching Oz and Sabrina drive Katya away. I’d been outplayed. Outmaneuvered. Blocked from taking any assisting action.

  “Keep your eyes on the phone and don’t say a word,” Oz said after unmuting. “I’m not going to warn you again.”

  I felt like a schoolboy made to stand in the corner during a championship game. Every fiber in my body was screaming at me to act, but I was forced to remain completely passive. Forced to focus on the face of the man I wanted to rip limb from limb, but for whom I was afraid to show even a hint of disdain.

  Had Oz spoken the truth about sparing our lives? It wasn’t likely, but it was possible. Anyone driven to fulfill fanatical acts of terror had to possess an exceptionally strong sense of allegiance.

  And I had earned his allegiance.

  Back at the bunker, I had probably saved his life, and Sabrina’s, more than once.

  So I struggled to appear amiable.

  Although my face remained directed at the phone, my mind’s eye wandered twenty
yards across the parking lot. What had Katya buried? A slip of paper probably. A receipt from a takeout food place, perhaps? Someplace they regularly patronized.

  Oz spoke again, disrupting my thoughts. “Go straight to a beachfront hotel and wait by your phone. I’m sending you the link to a geo location app. You have thirty minutes to be in your room with the app installed. Select the option that allows anyone with your number to track it.”

  Before I could reply, Oz hung up. The bastard had really thought things through.

  I bolted from the car and ran to the spot where Katya had been standing. Oz hadn’t ventured that way when he retrieved my buried gun. Nor had anyone else. Not a single customer had come or gone since our Mexican standoff. I wondered how the place stayed in business. In any case, their misfortune was my good luck. The gravel had not been disturbed.

  I spotted Katya’s buried treasure right away because it wasn’t a crumpled piece of paper. It was something shiny. Sized like a large coin but not perfectly round. It resembled a lapel pin with a serial number. The back was all gold but the front also had petals of white with green accents. And in the center—Arabic writing.

  I had no time for further study. I shoved the trinket in my pocket and ran back to my car.

  After two failed attempts, I found a motel a quarter mile from a large shopping center that took cash and had an available room with the right kind of window. With only seconds on the clock, the clerk told me I could get just about any food I wanted from a third-party delivery service. He gave me a flyer.

  I ran to my room, installed the required app and adjusted the settings as Oz instructed. Once I was certain he could track the location of that phone, I plugged it in and got down to business.

  First on my list was forwarding all calls from the tracked phone to my spare. I configured the app to make the handoff seamless. There would be no audible clue what was happening. In the virtual world, I would appear to be right there in that room. Oz could see and talk to me there—no matter where I really was.

  I ordered fuel in the form of a pizza and then set about identifying the golden trinket Katya had left me. An object I now recalled seeing Oz kiss in the bunker.

  I began by laying it before the window atop a piece of white note paper and taking a close-up photo. Then I copied the photo into an image search.

  Google found no matches. Its Best guess was a Window. That puzzled me until I scrolled down and saw the Visually similar images, which were stained glass windows of the same shape. The algorithm hadn’t taken size into account.

  I repeated the exercise with a dollar bill in the picture for scale, but that didn’t help. Google focused on the money and assumed the trinket was a coin.

  I considered attempting to translate the Arabic script in the center, but the artistic arrangement was such a spaghetti jumble that I decided to make that my last resort.

  The pizza arrived and I tore in. As the inviting scent of baked bread and melted cheese tickled my nose, I tried not to think about what Katya was or was not eating. She hadn’t looked malnourished. People hiding out tended to subsist off fast food or packaged food. Katya would usually choose hunger over either option, but that was for short periods of time. Hopefully Sabrina was similarly finicky.

  After a second slice, I held the object against my chest like a brooch and took a selfie in an attempt to prompt Google to find similar headshots. It worked! One of the best guesses was a man holding up an award and wearing a similar object.

  I clicked the link to visit the page and discovered that I was likely holding The Order of Abdulaziz Al Saud, which was awarded for meritorious service to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

  The design in the photo was a bit different, with silver instead of gold and text that didn’t quite match mine. It also had an appendage with crossed sabers and palm leaves that connected it to a ribbon. My object was missing that element. But Wikipedia informed me that there were four classes of the esteemed prize, thereby explaining the minor differences.

  I inspected the artifact again and found imperfections where the attachments had broken off. It was a medal. A revered award. That explained Oz’s affection.

  There was no doubt now. This was The Order of Abdulaziz Al Saud.

  Oz was a Saudi.

  Just like bin Laden.

  85

  Fall From Grace

  Florida

  OZ ENJOYED an endorphin boost as he carried the box of detonators back into the barn. Encountering Achilles had been a surprise and a setback, but he had prevailed through superior planning coupled with calm execution.

  He handed the box off to Omar, who tossed his cigarette in order to receive the precious package with both hands.

  “How long?” Oz asked.

  “Just a few hours. Where’s the girl?”

  “In the back seat, wearing headphones.”

  Oz turned to Shakira. “Put her in the trunk.”

  “Not the barn?”

  “I don’t want her to see what Omar is up to. Besides, the barn’s wet.”

  “What does it matter if she sees? I mean…” Shakira shrugged.

  “Probably nothing. But I can’t foresee everything. Can you?”

  “No, I cannot. Thank you for reminding me.”

  “See to the girl.”

  Oz entered the chicken barn and slumped into a folding beach chair. The farm was an ideal working and hiding place, and he would forever be grateful to the distant relative who allowed them to use it. But Oz would also be happy to leave it behind. There was only so much cheeping one could take.

  Sabrina sat down beside him and ignited the butane burner to heat the teapot. “You did well today, my lion.”

  “We did well, my virtuous princess.”

  It was true.

  Their long struggle to restore the Abdilla and Saida families to positions of honor within the kingdom was nearly complete. Ninety-five percent of the hard work was behind them. Soon King Salman would see that his son had been wrong to shun their families and imprison their patriarchs. Soon he would restore their status and their fortunes.

  So long as they did the damage without leaving any proof. As bin Laden had before them.

  Oz pulled his father’s medal from his pocket and pressed it to his lips. Except, he didn’t.

  “What is it?” Sabrina asked.

  Oz rechecked his left pocket.

  The Order of Abdulaziz Al Saud wasn’t there.

  Surely he wouldn’t have put it in his right? Away from his heart?

  He checked anyway.

  It wasn’t there, either.

  “My father’s medal. I can’t find it.”

  “Did you check all your pockets?”

  Oz stood and performed a thorough pat down.

  “When did you last kiss it?”

  Not see it, Oz noted. His wife was wise to make him recall the act. He had to think. He had definitely kissed it in the bunker. And up top. When the house was cleaned up and the woman was in the trunk. “Right before we left the cabin.”

  “Back in Nevada? No, you kissed it before bed our first night on the cots.” Sabrina gestured behind them to the beds.

  “You’re right. I did.”

  Oz walked over to his cot and carefully checked the sleeping bag. No medal. He checked underneath. Nothing. As he searched the other beds, Omar and Shakira walked over. “What’s going on?” Omar asked.

  “Oz can’t find your father’s medal,” Sabrina said.

  “Where did you last see it?” Shakira asked.

  “We’ve been through that,” Oz snapped. “Before bed, our first night here.”

  The four all looked at the floor. The vast expanse of corncob and crap-covered ground.

  “I’ll go buy a metal detector,” Omar said.

  “Better get two,” Sabrina said.

  Oz liked the idea. But he might have a better one. “When something valuable is missing, the wise move is to consider both options.”

  “Both options?” Shakira
repeated in a questioning tone.

  “Either it was lost or it was stolen.”

  Three sets of eyebrows raised, then all turned toward the Charger.

  Oz popped the trunk using the button beside the steering wheel. As it whooshed open, he went around back and yanked the earphones off Katya’s head.

  She didn’t stir.

  He picked up a bottle of water and began pouring it into her nose.

  She bolted upright, snorting and coughing, eyes wide, face frightened.

  Oz instantly regretted acting rashly. He’d let panic get the better of him. He took a few deep breaths while Katya caught her own, then composed his words. “Sorry about that rude awakening.”

  She didn’t reply.

  He handed her the bottle. It was still two-thirds full.

  She took a drink.

  When she finished, he took back the bottle and studied her face while he screwed on the cap. Her composure was returning to normal. “I have a very important question for you. A very serious question. Do you understand?”

  Katya nodded.

  “Do you understand?” he repeated, slower this time.

  “I understand,” she said, her voice calm and cool.

  “Good. Now, please tell me. What did you do with my father’s medal?”

  Recognition flashed across her face. Just a split-second’s worth, but enough.

  86

  The Setup

  Florida

  KATYA KNEW she’d blown it by the change in Oz’s eyes. Her reaction had given her secret away.

  She’d have kicked herself, were she not in a trunk.

  If she hadn’t just woken up to waterboarding, or if she’d been given a minute to prepare, to compose herself and her thoughts, then she probably could have convincingly feigned complete ignorance. What medal? I never met your father. You’ve had me chained up in a barn or locked in a trunk.