Hide and Seek by Jeff Struecker Page B

without question or debate. Clear?”
    “Yes.”
    “I also need you to be honest with me. No false bravery. If your asthma gets worse I need to know. Complete honesty. Got it?”
    “Got it. The smoke’s not helping.”
    “I was afraid of that.”
    “Amelia, complete honesty goes both directions. You’re not just a diplomat with the U.S. Embassy, are you?”
    Amelia hesitated. Technically her role was not secret, but she preferred to be thought of as a civilian. “Not strictly speaking.”
    “What are you? I mean, the way you handled the situation and the thing you did with the knife . . . Are you CIA?”
    “No, Jildiz, I’m not. Not the CIA or any other group like that. I’m not a spy.”
    “Then what?”
    More hesitancy. “It doesn’t matter, Jildiz.”
    “Military?”
    Amelia didn’t want to waste time arguing. Since she was breaking no laws or orders, she yielded. “I used to be in the Army. Actually, I’m still in the Army but I work as a civilian. I specialize in foreign affairs. Technically, I’m an Army captain, but these days my battlefield is a conference table. I just get to keep my retirement this way.”
    “Retirement? Really, retirement?”
    “Let’s keep moving.”
    “I’ve never seen a diplomat kill two men with a car and knock a thug to the ground.”
    “We don’t know the two men are dead.”
    Jildiz hiked an eyebrow. She seemed to be breathing easier. “We don’t?”
    “Not officially. Let’s go.”
    As they started down the alley the sound of angry mobs and police sirens clashed in the thickening air.

    MEKLIS OSKONBAEVA WOULD LIKE to have taken time to remember simpler, less stressful days, but he was too busy. When he awoke this morning he knew he would be facing difficult decisions. Such was the nature of his job as president of a country on the edge of self-immolation. By breakfast he had been briefed about rising tensions within his own government and the growing frustrations of his people. By his third cup of tea he had a sense things weren’t right.
    When were they? He’d been president for three of his five-year term and a day hadn’t gone by he hadn’t wished he’d traveled to the United States or England to teach history when he had the opportunity. But no. He was infected with a virus that made him feel he owed the country of his birth some help. A lot of help. It was the way of his father who taught him men who believed the world owed them a living couldn’t be trusted, but a man who believed he owed the world something could.
    His daughter called earlier in the day to say she would be meeting with American representative Amelia Lennon. Lennon wasn’t the decision maker and he wondered why Jildiz would take the time. Still, the woman was bright and seemed to care about Kyrgyzstan and its people. Of course, she might just be a good actress. She did have one advantage: unlike many ambassadors, including the one operating at the U.S. Embassy on Prospect Mira Street, hers was not a position bought with political contributions. The U.S. Diplomatic Corps was composed of highly trained and dedicated people. That couldn’t be said for the ambassador. Maybe Jildiz saw more in the woman than she did in the man who spoke for the world’s most powerful country. Maybe.
    The news of the riots came at lunch. First it was a call from the mayor of Osh and the mayor of Talas, both troubled cities. There were riots and ethnic conflicts there before. Like sparks from an unattended campfire, the blaze spread to Bishkek. Its quick spread made Meklis suspicious. Suspicion came with the job. The number of people he could trust diminished weekly.
    Local news broadcasted the carnage on the television stations and it appeared as if the entire country had lost its mind.
    “We have news that several police officers have been injured, some seriously.” The report came from Boris Gubuz, his minister of internal security. “That’s in Bishkek. Talas has four confirmed deaths, three