“Where the hell is this guy going?”
“What’s down the road?”
“Not much. Small towns. Next big city’s hours away.”
“Only one way to find out, then.” She shot a quick look at the older man, who had a cigarette clenched between chapped lips. “You sure this is worth it?”
“They’re up to something. I feel it in my bones.” He took a deep drag on his smoke and spat a piece of tobacco out the window. “We’ve been watching him for some time, and I’ve never seen him hug anyone. You saw him. He was excited. It showed in his every movement.”
Maya didn’t say anything. She’d just seen an old man shuffle out of a mosque, give a younger one a quick hug, and then make for his vehicle. If that was excitement, watching paint dry would qualify as a celebratory event.
Uri looked down at his gas gauge. “I’m glad I filled it.”
She smiled and took a small sip of water from her plastic bottle. “It would definitely put a damper in things if we had to stop for gas while in hot pursuit of a Suzuki.”
Rice paddies stretched along the road, local men and women bent over in the hot sun, tending to their precious harvest, and Maya silently thanked Providence for the slim relief provided by the air-conditioning. It might not have been much, but compared to the heat outside, the interior of the sedan was an icebox.
Sixty kilometers further down the degrading road, the motorcycle slowed at a colorfully tiled mosque and pulled into the dirt parking lot, which was half full of vehicles for the noon salat. The rider swung off the bike, stretched, and then mounted the stairs to the entry. Uri parked in the shade of a tree and raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
“We need to get closer,” he said after a few beats.
“You’re driving.”
“But we can’t attract attention.”
“Right. So what’s the plan?”
Uri swept the area with the spyglasses and then set them down. “Time for a snack.”
He pulled toward a roadside shack with a half-dozen plastic tables scattered in front of it, vats of mystery stew simmering over a wood-burning stove. Maya took in the swarms of black flies buzzing around every surface and her eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
“All in the line of duty.”
“I’m pretty sure tapeworms don’t care what your affiliation is.”
Uri handed her the glasses. “We’re a lot closer here. Keep watch. When our man shows, we’ll resume surveillance.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Uri was trying to choose between three of the offerings when their quarry reappeared, a CD case in his hand. After glancing around, he made his way to the food shack along with a half-dozen other worshippers. Nobody paid any attention to Uri, and Maya had covered her face in the car, so she drew no stares. When Uri had selected his preferred gruel, he returned to the car with a paper bowl and sat behind the wheel.
“You see that? He’s got a CD. He didn’t before.”
“Yes. But it looks like music, doesn’t it?”
Uri nodded. “That’s a popular Bangladeshi singer – you see his stuff everywhere. But why would this guy ride into the middle of nowhere to get one of his disks?”
“Obviously, because whatever’s on the CD isn’t music.”
Uri’s mouth twitched into what might have been the start of a smile. “Very good. Which tells me we really need to know what’s on it. If it was important enough to do a hand delivery all the way out here, it’s probably something that will prove Kahn is up to his ears in ugly. Maybe then I can get headquarters to believe me.”
“How do we get our hands on it without tipping our hands? It’s not like we can hit him over the head. They’d tend to notice that sort of thing, I’d think.”
“Fair enough. Well, you’re the fast new blood. What do you suggest?”
She watched the man order a bowl of food and grabbed her water bottle. “I’m going for a walk. Hopefully he won’t notice me.”
“What are you going to
“What’s down the road?”
“Not much. Small towns. Next big city’s hours away.”
“Only one way to find out, then.” She shot a quick look at the older man, who had a cigarette clenched between chapped lips. “You sure this is worth it?”
“They’re up to something. I feel it in my bones.” He took a deep drag on his smoke and spat a piece of tobacco out the window. “We’ve been watching him for some time, and I’ve never seen him hug anyone. You saw him. He was excited. It showed in his every movement.”
Maya didn’t say anything. She’d just seen an old man shuffle out of a mosque, give a younger one a quick hug, and then make for his vehicle. If that was excitement, watching paint dry would qualify as a celebratory event.
Uri looked down at his gas gauge. “I’m glad I filled it.”
She smiled and took a small sip of water from her plastic bottle. “It would definitely put a damper in things if we had to stop for gas while in hot pursuit of a Suzuki.”
Rice paddies stretched along the road, local men and women bent over in the hot sun, tending to their precious harvest, and Maya silently thanked Providence for the slim relief provided by the air-conditioning. It might not have been much, but compared to the heat outside, the interior of the sedan was an icebox.
Sixty kilometers further down the degrading road, the motorcycle slowed at a colorfully tiled mosque and pulled into the dirt parking lot, which was half full of vehicles for the noon salat. The rider swung off the bike, stretched, and then mounted the stairs to the entry. Uri parked in the shade of a tree and raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
“We need to get closer,” he said after a few beats.
“You’re driving.”
“But we can’t attract attention.”
“Right. So what’s the plan?”
Uri swept the area with the spyglasses and then set them down. “Time for a snack.”
He pulled toward a roadside shack with a half-dozen plastic tables scattered in front of it, vats of mystery stew simmering over a wood-burning stove. Maya took in the swarms of black flies buzzing around every surface and her eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
“All in the line of duty.”
“I’m pretty sure tapeworms don’t care what your affiliation is.”
Uri handed her the glasses. “We’re a lot closer here. Keep watch. When our man shows, we’ll resume surveillance.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Uri was trying to choose between three of the offerings when their quarry reappeared, a CD case in his hand. After glancing around, he made his way to the food shack along with a half-dozen other worshippers. Nobody paid any attention to Uri, and Maya had covered her face in the car, so she drew no stares. When Uri had selected his preferred gruel, he returned to the car with a paper bowl and sat behind the wheel.
“You see that? He’s got a CD. He didn’t before.”
“Yes. But it looks like music, doesn’t it?”
Uri nodded. “That’s a popular Bangladeshi singer – you see his stuff everywhere. But why would this guy ride into the middle of nowhere to get one of his disks?”
“Obviously, because whatever’s on the CD isn’t music.”
Uri’s mouth twitched into what might have been the start of a smile. “Very good. Which tells me we really need to know what’s on it. If it was important enough to do a hand delivery all the way out here, it’s probably something that will prove Kahn is up to his ears in ugly. Maybe then I can get headquarters to believe me.”
“How do we get our hands on it without tipping our hands? It’s not like we can hit him over the head. They’d tend to notice that sort of thing, I’d think.”
“Fair enough. Well, you’re the fast new blood. What do you suggest?”
She watched the man order a bowl of food and grabbed her water bottle. “I’m going for a walk. Hopefully he won’t notice me.”
“What are you going to
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