“What is he saying?” Justin asked.
“I had it translated and the transcript is in a file on the desktop. The gist is that joint local police forces raided a village in northern Bosnia, a suspected home of Islamic extremists. They rounded up some of the residents, former mujahedeen now advocating a radical form of Sunni Islam, like in Saudi Arabia. Two of them were former associates of Hakim.”
“And?” Justin asked with an impatient frown.
“Just keep watching. You’ll see.”
The screen changed to a hospital scene. The reporter was interviewing a doctor — maybe a surgeon — in a lab coat. Then the images showed a woman lying in a hospital bed and talking to the camera. Justin recognized her face.
His eyes grew wide. “That’s… that’s Hakim’s wife. When was this recorded?”
“Last week. She survived our attack. You didn’t kill her, Justin.”
“So who was the woman reported dead by the news shortly after our ambush?” Justin asked after a sigh of relief.
“One of Hakim’s bodyguards. He used her on occasion.”
Justin sighed and nodded. “Thank you, Carrie. This lifts a heavy burden off my shoulders.”
“No worries. Any time.”
“We should make our way to McClain’s office.”
Carrie packed her laptop and they reached McClain’s office on the fourth floor.
Justin knocked on the door and McClain called to them to come in. They sat in the black leather chairs across from McClain’s desk while he finished inspecting a report. A few moments later, he closed the report and its folder and put them in a cabinet drawer behind him. Then he smiled at Justin and Carrie.
“Good morning,” McClain said in a cheerful tone. “How are you doing?”
“Great, doing great, boss,” Justin replied.
“Same here,” Carrie said.
McClain reached for a folder on the right side of his desk. He handed it to Justin. “This letter came last night from a certain Mr. Alexander Derzhavin.”
Justin glanced at the letter, shrugged, then passed it to Carrie.
“I wasn’t expecting a thank-you letter,” Justin said. “Not after everything that happened in Moscow and how Derzhavin tried his best to kill me.”
“He seemed well pleased with the operation against the Chechen rebels and with its results. He appreciates your giving the Russians the merits.”
Justin said, “They did most of the work. And I have nothing against the brave troops on the ground. But the chief got mired in politics and backstabbing and wanted to use me as fodder for his dirty games.”
McClain leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Well, they want to bury the hatchet and so do I. It is better to have the Russians on our side, even though sometimes it’s hard to tell whose side they’re on.”
Justin nodded. “I agree, sir.”
“I don’t have anything new from the CIA. Ms. Moore thanked you both for your help and you also received a call from their President.”
“Yes, she sounded like an easy-going woman despite her position of authority.”
Carrie nodded. “And quite funny as well.”
“Now with regard to your next assignment, I would like you first to take a well-deserved break over Christmas. Relax and recover,” McClain said in a warm but firm tone, like a doctor giving medical advice. He gestured toward Carrie’s right arm and then toward Justin’s crutches. “You need to be in your best shape for this operation.”
Justin said, “We’ll do it, sir.”
Carrie said, “Absolutely.”
“Can you tell us where this operation will take us?” Justin asked.
McClain shook his head. “No, not yet. I still have to finalize some details and there’s a slight, very slight, possibility that our intervention will not be necessary. But I doubt it. In any case, all I can say for now is, Justin, grow a beard. And Carrie, buy a burka.”
Author’s Note
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