C.R. Daems - Kazak 2 - The Unthinkable (6 page)

"Well, I'm off to spend your money." When he didn't respond, I continued. "Yes, Boss. I know what my undercover role will be and need to go shopping. The Committee needs to ensure I'm assigned for audit to whatever classes Karin will be taking."

***

I spent the next two days shopping for my new identity. I was getting fond of pretending to be someone else. I purchased five pairs of jeans, multiple scarves, multi-strand Jersey stripe headbands, and ten oversized embroidered tunics. To avoid questions about style, I purchased them from popular name brands like Lucky, Lands End, Guess, and Silhouettes.

***

I stood in front of the white three-story building called the Trumbull House, preparing to assume my new identity. The grounds were well maintained and the property expansive judging from its location, acreage, and isolation. I walked up the stairs, into the foyer, and followed my nose to the dining room. Couples occupied three of the tables. At another table, a young woman sat alone reading a newspaper. She had shoulder-length blond hair, straight nose, narrow chin, and slightly pale skin. She was so focused on the paper that she didn't notice me walk over to the table. That probably made her a good student but a very poor bodyguard.

"Sabah el kheer...good morning, Karin. I'm, Lana, the person you were expecting to join you for breakfast." I smiled not only to be nice but also at her expression of resignation. I had dressed in a brown oversized embroidered tunic, scarf headband, and jeans. I wanted an American look for a Muslim woman: loose fitting clothing to hide the figure and a headband to substitute for a hijab. She nodded and I sat.

"Well, Lana, you're certainly not what I was expecting. Nevertheless, I want it clear that you are not to interfere with me or my activities-"

"Yes, let's get the rules straight. I'm going to be joined to you at the hip. Everywhere you go, I go. No exceptions. If that isn't acceptable, I will change into a dark suit, with an appropriate bulge to ensure everyone knows I'm carrying a gun, and follow two-steps behind you. I will go out of my way to make your college-experience a nightmare. Or," I said with a smile, "we can pretend I'm the daughter of your father's influential friend in Afghanistan, who is an important warlord on the side of the Americans. He asked your father if you, Karin, would allow his daughter to follow you around so she could get a taste of college life in America. He's thinking of sending her-me-here next year. You are doing it for your father's sake and his relationships in Afghan. Take your choice."

"You can't do that!" She shouted. Several of the people stopped talking and turned to look in our direction.

"Are you still a young girl stamping her foot because she can't get her way or are you a young woman preparing to enter the real world. There is an Al Qaeda cell out there that wants to kill Americans-citizens as well as soldiers. Your father is working to help find the cell before they succeed. If you were to be kidnapped, what do you think your father would do? Would he just say: 'I don't care. It'll save me the money she costs to attend college', or will he give them real secrets to save your life. Those real secrets will eventually get him caught and court marshaled. As a consequence, he will spend the rest of his life in prison and hundreds of U.S. soldiers will die. Regardless of what you think of the war, they don't deserve to die. And what would happen if they kill you? Your mother would blame your father. Both would suffer for the rest of their lives, because you don't want to be inconvenienced." I felt like an elder counseling a youth. Karin sat there for a long time in silence, alternating between glaring at me and her half empty plate.

"I hate you. I like being a young girl finally away from home and rules, and free to do what I want. And you want me to grow up. I'm not ready to be an adult. I want to remain in transition between girl and woman. Free."

"Nothing is free nor is life fair. As a child, girl, or woman, you are free to make decisions, but they have consequences. As a child or young girl, you don't always realize the possible consequence. But as a woman you must understand they exist, although you can't always predict them."

Karin nodded. "I don't promise to like the situation, to go along without a fight, or to like you, but I'll try to remember the consequences. I won't be able to avoid thinking like a young girl in transition, because I am." She made a half-hearted effort to smile.

"I can accept that. Here are my rules..."

"You're going to be my roommate!"

"Tied to the hip." I spent the next hour detailing her story about me, that I was a Muslim, why I dressed the way I did, her promise to her father, etc. We went over the story several times, until I felt confident she had it straight.

***

Karin was surprised when I had no trouble registering along with her. In fact, we were both already registered and assigned a room. She changed one course without any trouble, although it was already full.

"I can't believe this. Registration should have taken hours, and I probably would have had to change class times and maybe lose a course or two I wanted. Father is an important man, but the college wouldn't have acquiesced like that for him. I'll bet you could get the Tuck School of Business and Dartmouth to refuse to register me," she said almost absent-mindedly. I nodded.

***

The first day of school proved the most stressful for Karin. I was everywhere she stood, sat, or walked. In the student cafeteria, I insisted we sit off to the side where I had a good view of everything and my back to the wall.

"Why? My friends, old and new, are going to think I'm weird," Karin wined.

"So I can see the entire room. You can tell your friends I'm paranoid, having grown up with a warlord as a father. In fact, you can use that as an explanation for most of the things you and they consider weird. Karin, I know you think this is all unnecessary, and I hope it turns out that way. Until then, I'll spend every minute of every day surveying every area you're in. I'll risk my life to keep you safe, so humor me."

"I know it's weird, but I almost would like to be attacked to see how you'd react."

"Careful what you wish for."

"Karin's first class was Capital Markets, introducing the things that determined the pricing of stocks, bonds, and other financial instruments. I found it interesting, although I had my mind split between observing everyone and everything, and the lecture. We had just finished the class when a good-looking young man approached.

"Hi, Karin, who's your friend?"

"Lana, this is Carl, if you want to know the location of tonight's party ask him or follow him. Tuck only accepted him because his father gave Dartmouth a ten million dollar grant.

"Carl, this is Lana. She's the daughter of an Afghan warlord, who's my father's ally and friend." Karin said tentatively. For her first performance, it was respectable.

"Hello, Lana. I'm pleased to meet you." He smiled and put out his hand.

"Motasharfon bemarefatclh...sorry, nice to meet you, Carl. I'm still not used to speaking English in my responses." I gave a slight nod but didn't take his hand.

"You have a beautiful voice in either language."

We met several other friends of Karin's and slowly my cover story was solidified. We attended three more classes that day. At dinner, I insisted on eating at a table in the corner. Rather than me looking strange to her friends, they thought me interesting. By the end of the day, Karin was mentally exhausted from explaining my presence and trying to say the right things.

"You did well today, Karin. It may be easier than I thought. Your friends and others see me as a novelty and find my supposed idiosyncrasies interesting. You can play on that."

"This would be fun, if it wasn't so much work. You seem to take to it naturally."

"Think of it as a game you're playing with your friends, teachers, and new people you meet. Enjoy it. No one is being hurt by it. Actually, everyone is enjoying me and my strange ways," I said trying to ease her tension. It looked to be a long semester. The first two or three weeks would be the toughest.

***

The first week went well. People not only accepted my presence, but also went out of their way to meet and talk with Karin. Boys were particularly interesting in hitting on me. I managed to hold them off with my Muslim ethics. Unfortunately, that just seemed to encourage them to be creative. Karin's first party proved a real challenge.

When we arrived, it was chaos with men and women dancing, drinking, popping drugs, and running up the stairs to bedrooms. It would be impossible for me to follow Karin, so I parked myself on the stairway about halfway up. At least, I could scan the room and keep an eye on her-most of the time. My cover would unravel if I tried to follow her as close as I would like or dragged her back to our room. So, I kept an eye on her as best I could, while continuously scanning the crowd for anything out of place. It seemed ridiculous. The college kids were easy to identify; hence, anyone else would stand out. I had been sitting there for only a few minutes when this tall, freckled-face red-haired young man sat down next to me. He wasn't drunk but high on something.

"You're that girl from Afghan whose father is a warlord. Welcome to America."

"Thank you," I said without turning in his direction. Normally, I would mix in a little Arabic, but thought that would just encourage him.

"You should join in. This is America not Afghanistan. No one is going to punish you if you have some fun," he said and put his hand on my leg. I gently removed it, regretting I hadn't broken it.

"Oh, loosen up." He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me towards him. I let him, driving my elbow into his ribs. His breath exploded out of him as he bounced backward against the wall. His ribs weren't broken, but they would be bruised and painful for the next few days. As I turned towards him, he stared wide-eyed while gasping for breath. I noticed several men had been watching the exchange.

"Ya Allah, that isn't proper conduct. Please leave."

"Harry, I don't think you impressed her." Their laughs were good-natured, enjoying Harry's failed attempt. I had several more attempts at seducing me, but they were careful and didn't press too hard. I think they had a pool going. Karin seemed to be enjoying herself. She danced with several men, did some drinking, and allowed a bit of rubbing and kissing. I was relieved she didn't let anyone take her upstairs. I wasn't sure if it was good sense or my presence.

About midnight, she began staggering and a boy put his arm around her and began heading for the stairs. At the stairs, he looked up at me.

"She wants to go upstairs." He winked.

"She doesn't look well. I'll take her home." I hoped he would admit defeat and let me take her home.

"She's a big girl and can do what she wants. Why don't you go home? She knows the way." He gave me a nasty stare and began walking up the stairs. I let him pass me, and then swept my arm across his ankles. He hit the stairs face first and slid several steps down before stopping. I stood up and caught Karin before she fell. He staggered to his feet. His nose was bleeding nicely.

"You bitch," he shook his fist and took a step towards me.

"My father would be very unhappy if I were hurt. In Afghanistan, he would behead the person. Here I guess the police would be involved at very least."

A few of the men were snickering, some unsure what to think, and a few gave me ugly looks.

"Karin definitely looks unwell. I will take her home. Massaa el kheer...good evening," I said and helped her out the door and back to our dorm room. She appeared awake but unable to move or respond verbally. I suspect someone put a date-rape drug in her drink. If not, she was really going to be mad at me in the morning.

I called Witton after I put her to bed.

"Mr. Witton, how is my father doing. I miss him."

"I'll bet you're miserable, since no one has shot at you over the past couple of weeks. I know how cranky you get when you're bored."

"Tell father I'm still a good Muslim woman, although it's difficult with college kids."

"You can't talk, can you? Sorinson is having trouble with the cell. He's been attempting to stall while the CIA tries to locate them. His handlers are losing patience. Be careful."

***

The week went by quickly. I enjoyed her classes even though I didn't understand everything. Her friends and interested classmates were fun, and Karin gave me little trouble except for the bathroom. I insisted being there when she was. She tried to stop me mostly because her friends began to wonder why. I explained that since it was a co-ed dorm, it would be inappropriate for me to be alone. That seemed to satisfy everyone except Karin. That weekend, she and a few of her friends decided to go into town and eat out. I wished she didn't have friends along. My responsibility began and ended with Karin. They had put themselves at risk without knowing it, because Karin didn't believe there was any risk.

They wandered in and out of shops trying on clothes and now and then buying some. Karin and I were slightly behind her friends, because she had stopped to say hello to someone she knew from her Management Communications class. We had just started walking when I noticed two men approaching us and another coming from behind. All three had their eyes glued to Karin. I drew my gun a second before they did. I swept Karin off her feet and fired twice, once into each man's chest. As she hit the sidewalk, I spun down into a snake stance, close to a sitting position. We fired simultaneously. He missed, I didn't. I fired again at his head. As I spun back and up, I felt a stabbing pain in my leg. A man across the street, that I hadn't seen, fired twice as I was uncoiling. He only missed my head or chest because he shot a second too late. I fired twice, driving him into a plate glass window, which shattered as he slammed into it. I turned and fell on Karin, who lay stunned from the impact of hitting the pavement. I lay there my face near her ear.

"You heard shots and felt me push you down and fall on you. You don't remember what happened after that." I repeated it three times, until she mumbled something I took for an agreement. Several minutes later, the street came alive and her friends came rushing over to us. The girls were firing questions so fast I made no attempt to answer them.