One Child

by Jeff Buick

  Sunday, Julie had split her team into two groups. The team charged with finding other ways for Trey Miller to ruin the U2 concert had not come up with one other viable option. That confirmed her initial suspicion that Miller would interrupt the power to shut down the stadium as the most likely scenario. The clues that supported her theory were still intact. Plus, more were appearing as they moved forward. They had confirmed that Alexi Androv was involved, and aside from killing people, he was an electronics expert. The truck with the backup generator breaking down in Belarus was starting to look like more than just a coincidence.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Sergei Berensko's line at MosEnergo. Berensko was the supervisor in charge of the city's electrical system in the quadrant that housed Luzhniki Stadium. She had called him earlier in the day to find out if the city had issued any e-mails about scheduled power outages in the last week. He answered the phone and she tried talking with him in rudimentary Russian.

  "Miss Lindstrom," Berensko said in heavily accented English. "We can speak English. It is good practice for you."

  "For you," Julie corrected him.

  "Yes, as I said, for you."

  Julie let it slide. "What did you find out Mr. Berensko?"

  "I checked our records and there were no scheduled power shutdowns," he said.

  "You're positive?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay, thank you."

  "It's okay. Enjoy Moscow."

  Julie set the phone in the cradle and went back over the growing list. Androv on the scene. The backup generator stuck in Belarus. Fake calls about power outages to the stadium. And there was one more. A very disturbing one. The disappearance of a city inspector who was working in the underground tunnels near the stadium. No one had seen him since Friday, August 20th. The man had no history of drinking and not showing up for work, and the police had opened a missing persons file. Julie and Evan had little doubt that the man's body was crammed into a recess somewhere in the labyrinth of tunnels.

  The hotel door opened and Evan entered Julie's room. He nodded to Carson, who was staying close to Julie at her request. "We found Miller," he said.

  "Where is he?"

  "The Korston Hotel. Alexi Androv used his credit card for a single transaction in the bar. He must have slipped up and used it by mistake. I have three men on the way over. They should be there by now, or really close. We'll know in a few minutes what's going on."

  "The guys you sent - are they armed?"

  "Yes."

  A shiver ran down her spine. This was getting out of control. "Is that what I think it is?" Julie asked, pointing to a roll of paper under Evan's arm.

  "Sure is," he said. He spread it out on the table. "Pretty rudimentary, but they're plans of the tunnel systems near Luzhniki."

  "Excellent," Julie said. She flipped the drawings around so they were properly oriented to her and Evan. "It's like we thought. The access to the electrical conduits is through the storm sewers."

  "Right. Especially the junction boxes." He stabbed at the drawings in three different places. "These are some of the places where the incoming power splits off from the main line. The tunnels where the power conduits run are much narrower than the adjoining storm sewers. It will be much easier to navigate through the sewers and then link in with the electrical system when we're close to the junction boxes."

  Julie nodded. "Agreed. And we're pretty sure they'll be targeting the junction boxes. They're the easiest places for them to splice in." She glanced up. "How are we doing with getting permission from the city for access to the tunnels?"

  Evan shook his head. "Not good. They don't see any reason to let us in, and they're in no rush to let us talk to anyone else. I tried offering them money, but it didn't work."

  "Well, whether it's okay or not, we're going in."

  "I had a couple of guys look for a way."

  "And..."

  "There's a metal grill embedded in a concrete slab in the park, about two hundred meters north of the stadium. It's locked, but I can't see that stopping us."

  "Excellent. We'll need lights and some gear."

  "I already thought of that. We picked it up a couple of hours ago."

  Evan held his hand up to curb her response, pulled out his vibrating phone and answered it. "Did you find him?" he asked. He listened for a few seconds, then grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a name - Petr Besovich. He grunted a few times then killed the call.

  "That was one of the men calling from the Korston. Miller was registered as Adam Stewart. The desk clerk recognized his picture. They ran the fake name just to be sure and found it's one Miller used when he was with the agency. They managed to get the name of another member of his team; Petr Besovich. His expertise is electrical circuits and detonating devices."

  "Great," Julie said under her breath.

  "Let's hope Miller brought him in to focus on electrical circuits and not detonating something," Evan said.

  "You want to take the risk?" Julie asked.

  "No."

  "Neither do I." She ran her hands through her thick, wavy hair. "But I'm not going to push the panic button."

  Evan agreed by nodding and said, "We won't mention the alternative yet, but we could look around a bit. Just in case. If we're careful and don't raise any red flags, the staff at the stadium wouldn't suspect we're looking for explosives."

  "Okay, shift the secondary crew onto it. They're wasting time looking for other scenarios. We know what Miller and his team are up to - we just need to figure out how they're going to do it and stop them." She checked the time. "Three-thirty. I highly doubt the city is going to get back to us. Looks like we're breaking into the sewer."

  Julie stood up and walked over to the window. In the distance, Luzhniki Stadium reared over a solid wall of green. What Trey Miller was planning was dangerous. A dark space, tens of thousands of people, and no show. Many of the concert-goers intoxicated or high. It was a bad mixture. It could be a full-scale disaster for Volstov.

  She wasn't going to let it happen. But time was slipping away and she had a litany of problems. The city authorities were hampering her efforts and she was filled with frustration and anxiety.

  "Carson, are you up to skulking around in a sewer?" she asked. She wanted him close by where she could watch him. The last thing she needed right now was to come back to the hotel and find a body. Besides, he was the one who had dug up the plot to derail the concert. She owed him.

  He shrugged. "Sounds gross."

  "It's not a waste sewer. No crap and toilet paper. It's a storm sewer. It takes rainwater from the gutters and channels it into the river."

  "Sure."

  "Great. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone. Androv may show up."

  "That wouldn't be good," Carson said. He tucked into the corner of the couch a bit tighter.

  "Get some rest if you can. It's going on four o'clock. We'll be heading underground by ten."

  He nodded. "I'll try," he said. But in his mind he already knew that there was no chance of sleeping.

  Click here to go beyond the story, experience and learn more about characters, events and places in One Child and join the discussion online.

  Chapter

  64

  Kandahar City

  Kadir smoothed the wrinkles from his shalwar kameez with his good hand. His appearance was important. He wanted Tabraiz to think highly of his choice of families - that he had made a good decision in picking Halima to live in Peshawar. So many young girls in Kandahar, and Tabraiz had seen the most potential in Halima.

  Kadir could barely hide his pride.

  His happiness was tempered with apprehension. Would Halima enjoy living so far from her family? Would she work hard enough to satisfy her wealthy sponsors, and would she do well in school? He knew
his daughter - how hard she worked and how well she negotiated with the traders in the marketplace. She always came home with more onions and tomatoes than she should. Maybe the traders liked her - maybe she was good at bartering. He didn't really care. His daughter was competent and intelligent. That was all that mattered.

  When she returned as an educated woman, her world would be so different. He pictured her standing at the front of the schoolroom, writing the alphabet on the blackboard, the children watching her with respect and adoration as they learned their lessons. The pride returned, and his chest puffed out slightly as he envisioned her.

  Halima climbed the staircase leading from the courtyard to the lone room the family called home. She stood quietly in the doorway.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  "Yes, father." She looked down at her clothes, at her new blouse with embroidery on the sleeves, intricately stitched, with red, blue and yellow thread. The design was abstract, but beautiful. To cover her legs, she wore loose white pants, comfortable for traveling. "Do I look alright?"

  Kadir sized up his eldest daughter. Barely twelve years old and already a woman. A pretty one with a wonderful future and a thoughtful smile. He focused on her eyes, hazel more than brown, and saw the determination. "You are perfect," he said. "Absolutely perfect."

  She blushed slightly, then said, "I'll check on Aaqila and Danah. They're playing in the courtyard."

  Kadir reached out and picked up a ratty knockoff watch he had found almost three years ago. Despite a cracked glass front, it kept good time. It was five minutes to seven. "I have a taxi picking us up at seven o'clock. He will drive us to Ahmad's house and your sisters can wait there while we meet with Tabraiz Khan."

  "I'll make sure they're ready," Halima said. She retreated back down the stairs.

  Kadir rose from his cushion. His joints ached with arthritis and sharp barbs of pain shot through his knees and fingers. This was the tangible pain, but it was not the most intense. Sending Halima away - selling her - was infinitely more agonizing.

  He glanced back at the threadbare room knowing it would soon be only a memory. He thought of their new lodgings, bought with the money from the Pakistani. Twenty blocks closer to the market and almost twice the size, with a separate bedroom for the younger girls. He wasn't sure whether he should be proud of his new home or if he should hate it.

  It had come at such a high cost.

  He put one foot forward, then the other. He reached the top of the stairwell and started down. The journey he had both hoped for and dreaded had begun.

  * * *

  Kandahar City

  Tabraiz met with the swarthy man and his two accomplices at ten minutes to eight. They were armed with Kalashnikovs and had revolvers tucked into their belts. Tabraiz handed the man the other half of his fee and reminded them no shots were to be fired unless someone was shooting at them. They disappeared behind the rocks, close to where the exchange was to take place.

  Twenty-five minutes.

  He placed a call to Kunar on his cell phone. "Is the diversion working?" he asked.

  "Exactly as planned," Kunar said. Crashing sounds emanated from the phone. "Farouk and his team are busting a drug dealer. I called in his location and the whole department ran out the door and raced up here. We're on the north side of the city. Even if they knew you were in the city and what was happening, they could never get to you in time."

  "Well done," Tabraiz said. "Expect a bonus soon."

  "Thank you, Tabraiz Khan."

  Tabraiz hung up and pocketed the phone. The ANP were busy, the sun was moving close to the western horizon and his backup muscle was in place in case something went wrong. A block to the north was a car, waiting to take them across the border into Pakistan.

  Everything was right. All he needed now was the girl and her father. And he knew they were coming. He slowly walked to the top of the rise, looked about, then headed down the hill to the meeting place.

  * * *

  Kandahar City

  "They're finished. Let's get out of here," Andrew yelled. He entered the Stryker through the rear hatch and Russell and Bobby followed. They left the hatch open to allow the air to circulate.

  "It took forever to get all those medical supplies loaded on the truck. Are we going to make the FOB before dark?" Russell asked.

  "Shit." Bobby leaned back against the metal sidewall. "You shouldn't ask that, man. Like sayin' he's got a no-hitter goin' into the bottom of the ninth. You're jinxin' it."

  "Jinxing what?" Russell asked.

  "Getting' back inside the wire."

  "Ahh, I don't want to do that," Russell said. He was absolutely serious.

  Andrew chimed in. "We'll make it. We're at the southern edge of the city and we'll be on the highway in no time. They've just finished sweeping it for IEDs. We're good."

  "Thank Christ," Russell said. "Last night was a fucking nightmare."

  "You should try living on one of the Combat Outposts," Andrew said. "They can get overrun any time in those things."

  "Crazy business, this war," Russell said.

  The Stryker lurched forward and picked up speed as they cruised through the southernmost tip of Kandahar city. Russell pulled his video camera from its case and checked the battery. He'd had it plugged in while they were loading and it was almost full. He wouldn't have to charge it tonight. Straight to bed when they got inside the gate.

  Above, the fading light streamed in through the hatch as the sun sank to the horizon.

  Click here to go beyond the story, experience and learn more about characters, events and places in One Child and join the discussion online.

  Chapter

  65

  Kandahar City

  Kadir directed the taxi driver to the nearest street to where Tabraiz was waiting. They turned the corner and cruised slowly down the road that divided the final row of houses from the rocky desert stretching endlessly to the south. Kadir ordered the man to stop, got out and paid the fare. He would take a bus back to pick up Aaqila and Danah from Ahmad's house. The cab drove slowly to the next intersection and turned right, headed back into the city.

  Kadir took Halima's hand and squeezed gently. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly. The air was still and there were no other sounds to drown out his voice.

  "I'll miss you too," Halima said. "And Aaqila and Danah. Make sure you tell them. Everyday."

  He smiled. "I will, Halima. I'll tell them every morning and every evening before they go to bed."

  She clutched a tiny bag that contained a single change of clothes. The bright red notebook and flowered pencil her father had given her stuck out the side pocket of the bag. She held her father's hand as they walked southwest, toward the mountains and away from the city. They crested the hill and began the trek down the gentle slope. Kadir scanned the rocks on his right, anxiously looking for the Pakistani. Nothing. They reached the spot where Kunar had instructed them to wait, midway between the rock formation and the edge of the valley, and stopped. The sun had almost disappeared behind the mountains and the oncoming darkness bothered him. A figure emerged from the edge of the valley and walked toward them. He was dressed in tailored pants and a white fitted shirt, with polished black shoes, now covered in fine dust. He smiled as he approached and his dark hair caught the last rays of sun and glimmered in the dying daylight.

  Tabraiz.

  Kadir felt Halima's grip tighten. He could only imagine what was going on in her mind. The uncertainty of the moment mixed with hope for her future. Kadir pushed back his shoulders and took long strides. This was a proud moment in his life.

  They were ten meters from Tabraiz when they heard the low rumbling that resonated off the buildings and floated to them on the evening air. It increased in volume and the ground trembled slightly. Kadir turned to look behind him. He knew e
xactly what it was. They all did. There was no mistaking the growl of armored vehicles. They were quickly moving closer, and Kadir pulled Halima tight to him and covered her with the loose folds of his tunic. A second later, an eight-wheeled armored vehicle came into view on the hilltop.

  He froze. Tabraiz stopped moving. The vehicle rolled to a halt and the dust settled. The air, the clouds, the world - everything was suspended in the moment.

  * * *

  Kandahar City

  Andrew and Russell's Stryker was the lead vehicle in the convoy. The soldiers sitting inside the vehicle could hear the chatter between the commanders coming across the radio. The truck carrying the medical supplies was having trouble navigating one of the bends in the road and needed to back up and make another attempt. The commander of Andrew's Stryker came on the radio, telling the others he was continuing to the edge of the city. He estimated it to be two, maybe three blocks.

  The Stryker rolled on, leaving the rest of the convoy with the supply truck. Thirty seconds passed, then they took a sharp turn to the right. Their speed began to increase, then the driver's voice came over the radio.

  "Checking out some movement to the south."

  The Stryker was bouncing more now as the driver steered off the road. They rolled for less than fifty meters, then the driver was back on his mic. "I've got something here, guys. You'd better take a look at this. The action is to the south, halfway down the hill."

  Andrew, Bobby and RJ, the other specialist, checked their guns and exited through the rear hatch. Russell grabbed his video camera and followed. Outside, daylight was failing fast. They had precious little time to identify the risks before they were cloaked in blackness.

  Andrew was in the lead and reported the situation over his radio. "I've got two men about eighty meters downhill. One in pants and a shirt. The other guy is in loose clothing. Looks like he's hiding something under his clothes."

  "Shit, man," Bobby shot back. "Who knew we were comin' this way?"