the police car. One of the brothers confessed to the attack. The police had played them off against each other. She was glad to see that Steve had survived. Steve and Belle Hanson were tourists, as she’d guessed, and they would be going home to Kansas City as soon as Steve was discharged from the hospital and paid his parking tickets.
So far, so good. Amaro’s got them running after their tails.
Abiyram didn’t press her for any reason for her visit. After dinner, she decided she was ready to give him all of her background and recruit him for her team—if he was still interested. In the past he’d told her that, as dedicated as he was to his country, it was time for him to do something of his personal choice.
They relaxed after dinner, sipping Nescafé, the popular at-home coffee. Maliha didn’t care much for instant coffee, but she knew better than to complain to her host.
“I have something I’d like to talk about,” she said.
“Me too.”
“You go first, then.” Maliha was glad to have the extra time to phrase her thoughts as best she could.
He sat with her and said nothing for a time. The streets they could see from the sliding door to the balcony were filled with cars with their headlights on. If she relaxed her eyes just right, she could get a streaming effect that was very pleasant to watch.
Like liquid cars flowing along in a highway river.
“It’s about Stackman.”
Maliha’s eyes closed and her heart sank. His tone wasn’t happy.
“I can stop at this point and forget that you ever asked me.”
She gave it serious consideration. Without Abiyram’s help, it was unlikely that she would come up with anything independently. Even Amaro had spun his wheels.
An unbidden whisper in her mind: Do I need to know or want to know?
And another: Why can’t I trust Jake to tell me when the time is right?
“Continue.”
Abiyram sighed and sat back in his chair. He reached to the side and in a moment, she saw that he was tamping and then lighting his favorite pipe.
“I was very lucky to find anything on him. His partner during that period is dead, killed on the first leg of the missions. Stackman continued on alone.”
“But what are the missions? For whom?”
“Ah, that has cost me dearly. I hope the information is of great value to you. First, let us go back to 2001, the first year of Stackman’s vanishing act. By the way, at no time were his actions unknown to a few in the U.S. government. A few at the top. What occurred that year? Besides 9/11, since he’s clear on that one.”
I have no time for guessing games. In a desultory tone, she said, “SARS.”
“First thing I looked at. Was the introduction in China deliberate and did it come from outside? To the best of my knowledge, no. Look to a different continent. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, President Laurent Kabila was gunned down inside his office, supposedly by a bodyguard, but the details are slippery. He was succeeded by his son Randall, who some say was not his son at all, and in fact not even born in D.R. Congo. Details? Again slippery. Randall managed to put an end to the Great War of Africa that had six different countries’ armies and a couple dozen militias traipsing around his country. Peace at last, or at least a better situation.”
“I know my history.” The Great War of Africa was chaos wreaked by the demons, with humans paying the price—like so many events in our history. “ What . . .”
“What does your man have to do with it? The assassination of the elder Kabila was blamed on a bodyguard in the room with him, but the shot came from outside the room, fired by a sniper. By Stackman.”
Maliha’s mind was racing. “Is that so bad? It was a targeted assassination to put into power a man who eventually was able to bring a semblance of peace to the region.”
Abiyram puffed on his pipe for a while before continuing. The aromatic smoke drifted her way and she inhaled. Even though she was a
So far, so good. Amaro’s got them running after their tails.
Abiyram didn’t press her for any reason for her visit. After dinner, she decided she was ready to give him all of her background and recruit him for her team—if he was still interested. In the past he’d told her that, as dedicated as he was to his country, it was time for him to do something of his personal choice.
They relaxed after dinner, sipping Nescafé, the popular at-home coffee. Maliha didn’t care much for instant coffee, but she knew better than to complain to her host.
“I have something I’d like to talk about,” she said.
“Me too.”
“You go first, then.” Maliha was glad to have the extra time to phrase her thoughts as best she could.
He sat with her and said nothing for a time. The streets they could see from the sliding door to the balcony were filled with cars with their headlights on. If she relaxed her eyes just right, she could get a streaming effect that was very pleasant to watch.
Like liquid cars flowing along in a highway river.
“It’s about Stackman.”
Maliha’s eyes closed and her heart sank. His tone wasn’t happy.
“I can stop at this point and forget that you ever asked me.”
She gave it serious consideration. Without Abiyram’s help, it was unlikely that she would come up with anything independently. Even Amaro had spun his wheels.
An unbidden whisper in her mind: Do I need to know or want to know?
And another: Why can’t I trust Jake to tell me when the time is right?
“Continue.”
Abiyram sighed and sat back in his chair. He reached to the side and in a moment, she saw that he was tamping and then lighting his favorite pipe.
“I was very lucky to find anything on him. His partner during that period is dead, killed on the first leg of the missions. Stackman continued on alone.”
“But what are the missions? For whom?”
“Ah, that has cost me dearly. I hope the information is of great value to you. First, let us go back to 2001, the first year of Stackman’s vanishing act. By the way, at no time were his actions unknown to a few in the U.S. government. A few at the top. What occurred that year? Besides 9/11, since he’s clear on that one.”
I have no time for guessing games. In a desultory tone, she said, “SARS.”
“First thing I looked at. Was the introduction in China deliberate and did it come from outside? To the best of my knowledge, no. Look to a different continent. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, President Laurent Kabila was gunned down inside his office, supposedly by a bodyguard, but the details are slippery. He was succeeded by his son Randall, who some say was not his son at all, and in fact not even born in D.R. Congo. Details? Again slippery. Randall managed to put an end to the Great War of Africa that had six different countries’ armies and a couple dozen militias traipsing around his country. Peace at last, or at least a better situation.”
“I know my history.” The Great War of Africa was chaos wreaked by the demons, with humans paying the price—like so many events in our history. “ What . . .”
“What does your man have to do with it? The assassination of the elder Kabila was blamed on a bodyguard in the room with him, but the shot came from outside the room, fired by a sniper. By Stackman.”
Maliha’s mind was racing. “Is that so bad? It was a targeted assassination to put into power a man who eventually was able to bring a semblance of peace to the region.”
Abiyram puffed on his pipe for a while before continuing. The aromatic smoke drifted her way and she inhaled. Even though she was a
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