The Enigma Series Boxed Set

by Tierney James

  “I think it’s my wedding day.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Badakshan Province

  Chase squatted on the ground to examine the remains of a campfire. He held his hand over the ashes but felt nothing. He squinted as he surveyed the abandoned camp. The Kyrgyz had broken camp a short time ago. The gurgle of the nearby stream beckoned him. He squatted once more to observe the area before venturing out into the open. He could already see the heavy indentions of hooves made by yaks, horses, and maybe a few sheep or goats. The narrow stream revealed a ramp of mud where animals had exited the water.

  Chase stood silent for several minutes before pivoting back toward the remains of the camp. Something swung back and forth, glistening in the afternoon sun. He stared at it, willing it to stop moving. He swiped the necklace from the branch then closed his hand around it. He didn’t need to check for an inscription. The necklace belonged to Tessa Scott. President Buck Austin had it made for her after she’d saved his life. She never took it off.

  “Reminds me how lucky I am to be alive,” she’d once told him. “When I wear this, I know God is protecting me and his Enigma angels have my back.” Then she laughed the way only she could and talked about her kids, worms in the garden, or her husband Robert’s golf game—things which made her light up with uncompromised joy.

  He took long strides back to find Zoric entering the camp area. “I think they caught a Taliban sneaking around. Appears his neck was snapped with a few important body parts missing, if you get my drift. Not a pretty sight.” Coming from him, the information showed brutality since he’d committed similar acts of violence on deserving men in the past. Holding out the necklace, Zoric stared at it for mere seconds before meeting his partner’s stern face.

  “Alive. She’s letting us know.”

  He buttoned the necklace into a pocket for safekeeping. “I’d say they’re four days ahead of us. The animals and a bunch of kids will slow them down. Problem is we’ll be in the open now.”

  “The dead Taliban guy I found must have been a scout. He’s been left as a warning I think.”

  Chase agreed. “I doubt they followed. Air gets thinner and Massoud knows the Kyrgyz will come back down to trade. Time is on their side. Our problem is they trade about four times a year. It’ll be months before they come back this way.”

  Zoric took a deep breath. “Too long. By the time—” Zoric bit off his words.

  He touched the pocket where he’d secured the necklace. “I promised Tessa I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. What if I’m too late?” He stared down at his feet then up at the sky, wanting to confront God. “I’m getting tired of being tested.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The Kyrgyz women were a contrast to their men. Bright-red skirts billowed, layered with even redder tunics. When the women walked, the adornments fastened to their blouses tinkled softly in the breeze. Brass trinkets no bigger than a thimble, tiny bells, and multicolored ribbons with beads, decorated the front of their clothing. The young, unmarried girls wore long red head scarves draped down to their waists. Married women wore white scarves in the same fashion. One of the older women came forward and was quick to point out the differences, but it wasn’t hard considering the age gap between the two. Some wore multiple bracelets or watches. Boots peeked out from under the hems of their skirts.

  “They’re beautiful,” Tessa whispered as the little girls clung to her legs or leaned into her body.

  They were shy, now, in this strange place dotted with rocks and scattered grasses without a tree in sight. Hundreds of animals dotted the land. Bactrian camels moved into a huddle as afternoon light faded. The darkness brought a cold, demanding warmth, and routine drove them together. Their disgruntled call of disrespect caused several of the older women to fuss at them with waving arms.

  “Miss Melanie.” The children still didn’t know her by any other name—“when can we go home? I’m scared.” Pamir peered up at Tessa, eyes round with fear.

  “I don’t know, Pamir. I will try and find out.” Pamir put an arm around Tessa’s waist and leaned into her body for comfort. She rubbed the little girl’s cheek.

  “Will we stay together tonight in those?” Shirin came to stand next to her sister then pointed toward the yurts.

  Bonnie snorted. “Yes, Melanie,” she said in a sarcastic voice. “Will we sleep together tonight, or do you have other plans?”

  Tessa shot a snarl of contempt to her before trying to reassure Shirin. “I hope so, Shirin. Are you okay?”

  The teen pointed to several girls, who looked to be about her own age, working with the yaks. “I do not want to marry a man from here. This place is cold. The women look hard. There is no school.”

  “No. There is no school, Shirin.”

  “I want to go to school, Miss Melanie. Please.”

  Her pleas tugged at Tessa’s heartstrings. “I want that, too.” Tessa extended her arm so Shirin could slip under it next to Pamir. “I’m not sure what I’m going to have to do to make those plans happen,” she said, sucking in her breath.

  Several of the women urged the guests to follow them to their yurts. Although colorless on the outside, the kaleidoscope of color inside was shocking. Not an inch of the ceiling and walls lacked vivid splashes of reds, yellows, and blues. The cooking fire burned low in the middle of the space. A tea kettle sat atop with a trail of steam seeping out from the spout.

  The Kyrgyz women settled them on the rug-covered floor and gave them cups of steaming tea, murmuring soft words. Patting the shoulders of the children brought timid smiles to their cherub faces. Besides the sweet smell of burning yak dung, there rose up the tantalizing aroma of food. Tessa couldn’t identify what the boiled meat could be, but at this point she didn’t care. Never one to eat much meat, she found herself craving it.

  Several other women came into the yurt and spoke to the hostess as they pointed to Tessa. Surprised chatter, followed by a number of bobbing heads, put up Tessa’s radar. The wedding was happening. It might as well have been a shotgun wedding in the hills of Tennessee. The excitement created a kind of electricity among the women. For those who lived bland lives 365 days of the year, this might be the Super Bowl of the Kyrgyz.

  Without hesitation, the four women pulled Tessa to her feet then pushed her gently toward an upside down metal can that reminded her of the five-gallon popcorn tins she sometimes bought at Christmas. Her knees popped as one old woman shoved her down to sit. Their giggles sounded girl-like. A quick pull of her scarf made her long blonde curls fall in disarray around her shoulders. They clicked their tongues. A comb appeared. Soon the duty of making her curls appear more like yellow silk proceeded. After the job was completed, they braided her hair into two long plaits falling across her shoulders.

  Bonnie stood with arms folded across her chest. A contemptible smirk formed on her lips. The little girls came to sit in front of Tessa, beaming up at her. Shirin stood next to Bonnie. Her arms hung at her side and a pensive concern filled her eyes.

  “Miss Melanie?”

  Tessa cringed as one of the women pinched her cheek. “Ouch!” She jerked away. “Yes, Shirin?”

  “What is happening? Why are they doing this to you?” Her voice quivered.

  “Yes, Melanie. Pray tell,” Bonnie cooed with flippant disregard for the teen’s nervousness.

  Tessa ignored the jab. “I seem to remember reading that among the Kyrgyz; one of the things a bride does is have her hair braided by her aunts. These women have taken it upon themselves to be my aunts, it seems.”

  “You will marry Darya?”

  “It appears I don’t have a choice.”

  “I do not understand. I always hear American women do as they please, whenever they please.” Tessa sighed but remained quiet as Shirin continued. “I think he is a good man, Miss Melanie. He helps the children. The other men ask him many questions.” She took a deep breath before speaking again. “Do you want this?”

  Tessa wanted to avoid Bonnie’s uptight opinions
by focusing on the teen. “No. But I need Darya to take us back. Take you back so Miss Finley can make sure you get to America. Right, Miss Finley?”

  With an arched eyebrow and thinning lips, Bonnie bared her teeth. “It’s what I live for.”

  The response reminded her a great deal of Ursula from The Little Mermaid movie.

  Shirin lowered her voice and sounded respectful as she commented, “I am very grateful, Miss Finley.” She pointed at the others. “We are grateful.”

  Bonnie put her hands on her hips. “I’m begging you to stop this, Tessa.” For once, her voice held genuine concern. “He’s smitten with you now, while you’re young, pretty, and able to have children.” She pointed at the women working on Tessa. “Look at them. Not one has a mouth full of teeth. Their skin resembles dried apples. I can’t believe you want this. Darya will tire of you as soon as this rooftop hell makes an old woman out of you. For all we know, these women are younger than you. Chew on that. If you marry him, he’ll tire of you anyway and just set you aside for a younger version. Seduce him, promise him the moon, and be done with it.”

  The Kyrgyz women pulled Tessa to her feet and shooed the girls outside, along with Bonnie. The clothes tinkled as they closed the door behind the children. When they whirled around, it sounded like blurs of music filling the yurt. They pointed at her clothes and shook their heads in disapproval.

  ~ ~ ~

  Darya inhaled the smell of lamb cooking on the stove in the khan’s yurt. His wife stirred the pot while giving orders to her husband to carry the food outside to the night fires burning in the summer camp. Makeshift tables were being set up for the big night. It was unusual to celebrate a wedding this late in the season and at night, but the khan listened to Darya out of respect.

  “You bring these Americans here. Trouble will follow.” The khan smoked opium to ease the pain in his back. It had been a hard life. He’d said many times he’d given up hope of having medical help for such things.

  “The Taliban killed your sister’s husband. They would have killed the children and made the women beg for death. This is not our way. Massoud brought this trouble to our land.”

  The khan puffed on his pipe. “You kidnapped these people.”

  “The Taliban were close. I waited. The Americans did not come for them or for the helicopter. We had to leave. The Taliban would have come back with more men and more guns. They would have taken our animals and supplies and killed us.”

  “I should say these people are now under my protection. You say you want to take this American woman for your wife.”

  “I can protect her.”

  “It is good for you to not be alone. Too long you grieve.”

  Darya waited before speaking. “I can pay you ninety sheep for the woman.”

  “One hundred ten sheep plus one camel.” The khan squinted and pointed his pipe toward the grazing animals outside the open door.

  “One hundred sheep and two horses,” Darya countered. “She is not worth more. The woman is headstrong. My life will be hard for some time.”

  The khan grinned so big Darya could see his bottom front teeth were missing. “Agreed.” He gave a satisfied wink. “And the children? What of them? We will make them one of us. It will be good.”

  Darya shook his head vehemently. “They would die. The air is too thin for them where we live. Even here they struggle. I must take them back with the government woman. If we do not, it could be trouble for us.”

  “But she is strong. Take her as a helper for your wife.”

  “They do not get along.”

  The khan moaned with understanding. “Will there be a reward?”

  “I will ask for a road.” Darya knew this would mean everything to the Kyrgyz. The khan dreamed of a car. “This would please the khan?” Darya already knew the answer. The elder’s favorite topic involved retelling the story about his trip to Mecca. His second favorite involved a road and a car. The khan claimed to understand the ways of the world. The Kyrgyz numbered a little over a thousand. Without medical care, his people would not last another twenty years. Their way of life grew more endangered each day they remained on the rooftop of the world.

  “And will your wife want to return to Kabul with the government woman?”

  “I hope to make my wife very happy under the yak skins.”

  The old khan laughed, something he did on rare occasions. After losing six children to the harsh life at the top of the world, little remained to make a man happy. “I will take your sheep and horses. Tonight, we celebrate, since you are in such a hurry to have a wife. Bride kidnapping is old-fashioned, even for us.”

  Darya shrugged. “I think maybe it is something we should consider in the future.” He chuckled. “I go now to prepare myself for my new wife.”

  “Some of the women have put your yurt in order. It is their gift. Our young girls will be sad they cannot have you.”

  Darya stood. “Thank you, my Khan.”

  He squinted through the opium smoke at Darya with seriousness in his voice. “Will you stay in Kabul with the woman?” When Darya did not answer, the khan struggled to his feet. “You are of two worlds, Darya. Sooner or later, you will leave us.”

  “This is my home.”

  “Yes. But you are an American.”

  Chapter 16

  F rom their hidden position, Chase and Zoric observed the camp of Massoud. Five men sat around a fire with a sixth patrolling the perimeter. Several parked Jeeps with a good twenty years on them, formed arc on the edge of camp. An argument between the men, with exaggerated hand movements followed by a great deal of posturing caused a satisfied grin on Chase’s face.

  “These guys are in a twist about something.” Chase handed off the binoculars to Zoric. “I can’t understand what they’re saying. Talking too fast.”

  “We’re a little too high up to get much.” Zoric adjusted the binoculars.

  Chase frowned. “At least we know Tessa and the kids aren’t with them. Any sign of the Finley woman?” He sat up and checked his weapons. By slipping on his night vision goggles, he hoped to get a better idea of what lurked in the dark.

  Zoric lowered the glasses then lifted them again. “No. But that Kyrgyz who brought in the soldier is down there. He’s not in good shape.” He handed the binoculars back to Chase.

  “Any sign of Massoud?” Chase scanned the area but saw no sign of the man at first. “Where are you?” He lowered them to take up his rifle.

  “I thought we were to bring him in.” Zoric readied his rifle scope.

  “Accidents happen,” Chase spoke through clenched teeth. “But I would like to know for myself what those guys wanted to accomplish before the Kyrgyz ran them off. How did Massoud know about the kids being picked up? Did they know a state department person would be there? A ransom deal or something more?”

  “Then what?”

  Chase caressed his weapon as he lifted the scope to his eye. “Then we kill him. Slow. One inch at a time. Give him a little taste of American justice for the boys he took down in the chopper.”

  The voices of the Taliban grew quiet as someone came to stand on the edge of the camp. A match flared then a curl of smoke from a cigarette. The man remained in the shadows.

  “I see him,” Chase spoke up before Zoric could alert him. “Come out, you worthless bag of yak dung. Show your miserable face.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Stop your arguing like a bunch of women,” the voice from the darkness called out. “Do you want someone to hear you? The Americans are everywhere searching for us.” The men silenced. If Special Forces were on their trail, it would be a death sentence. No one could exact revenge like the ghost men of the American military.

  Massoud strolled over to the Kyrgyz tribesman, careful not to come out in the open. The man rested on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. His naked torso revealed cigarette burns placed in no particular pattern across his chest. Massoud cocked his head to inspect him with his one good eye. Taking one last p
uff off his cigarette, he dropped it then ground out the light with the toe of his leather boot.

  With one hand, he caught hold of the tribesman’s black hair and yanked back his head. It didn’t take much scrutiny to know the man appeared more Asian than the Taliban throughout Afghanistan. Around the Kyrgyz’s slanted eyes were bruises. The left cheekbone swelled with a nasty laceration. Without medical treatment, it would be a matter of time before infection set in.

  “This is your last chance. Tell me which way they are headed and I’ll end this right now. If not then, in the morning, my men will do it their way. Trust me when I say my way is much better.”

  The Kyrgyz man stared straight ahead, drool seeping out of his mouth. He recited something from the Koran. Massoud stormed off toward one of the Jeeps.

  “Now or never, Chase.” Zoric took a deep breath as his finger slipped over the trigger.

  “I’ll take two on the right then the Jeep. You take the other three.” Chase inhaled then exhaled as slowly as his body permitted. “Now.”

  The first two men fell over into the fire causing the remaining four to jump up in panic. Massoud’s retreat appeared to accelerate as he ran then slid into the driver’s seat of the open Jeep. Chase and Zoric both made their kill shots of the Taliban around the fire. The sound of the engine lifted into the air as it backed farther into the darkness.

  Chase let off a series of shots. Each one sounded like it ricocheted off the front end of the vehicle. The Jeep careened out of control then flipped over, throwing Massoud out into the night.

  Chase and Zoric picked their way down the hillside between boulders and over loose rock which made them lose their footing. Once on the ground they waited as they scanned the area with their night vision goggles. With their weapons raised they searched the perimeter then worked their way in until Chase split off and ran into the darkness for Massoud.

  A small explosion under the back end of the Jeep threw him to the ground just as he reached it. He dropped his rifle, a bullet zipping by his ear just as the sound of a startled horse caught his attention. The flash of fire from the explosion blinded him momentarily. Throwing off the night goggles, he saw Massoud race off on the back of a horse. Chase managed to pull his Glock from inside his clothing. He rapid-fired into the darkness, although it could be a waste of ammunition and would more likely hit the horse than Massoud.