August 10, 2011
1702 Local time

"Colonel, do you mind if I go out for a while?"

"Feel free, Carter," replied Kulyuchev. "Nobody said you can't go out."

The guard gave her a tired but attentive nod as she strode towards the gate. And then, she was inside the city of Kabul itself.

Carter saw a woman dressed in a burqa buy a newspaper from a newly erected stand. She was sure that during the days of the Taliban, the woman would have been immediately carted off to the public square and executed. The fact that she bought a paper in a burqa just emphasized the fact that the Afghans weren't aware that they were free yet.

Seeing her walk away eased Carter's tense body a little. She knew it was stupid to think that someone was out there trying to kill her, but she simply can't shake off the feeling. All of these attacks in Afghan soil, and all of them seemingly unconnected.

She shook it off and began to concentrate on walking. As a journalist, she had an off-time pass that allowed her to come and go out of the embassy as she pleased, on the condition that she returned before "lights out". This was actually Carter's first time out of the embassy for no purpose at all, so she was a little bit nervous.

She took off her coat; revealing a red long-sleeved shirt under a blue vest, a black miniskirt and knee-length socks in uniform boots. The light breeze felt cool to her, but then she felt a chill in her spine, something only felt when someone was looking at you. And then, reflected in the window of a van, was the woman in the burqa.

The assassin watched her objective as she walked. She knew she was in danger of being observed because of those windows—damned reflections!—but she was past the point of no return. She had to continue.

Carter knew she only had one chance at trying to trick the other woman. Good thing there were still many Russian trucks left here during the Soviet invasion.

The assassin was near her objective. It looked like that she hadn't seen her. But she suddenly threw her coat away and went to the other side of a rusting truck. The assassin quickly pulled out her suppressed pistol and followed. But her objective was not there.

Carter rounded back to the pavement. Her trick had worked beyond expectations. The woman was staring out at the street, fooled by her simple but effective ploy. To think that she had picked it up from Patriot Games…

A trick!, thought the assassin. Timofeyenko was right. Her prey was a very cunning woman. She scanned the street one more time before she gave up. She would have to report the failure, and she felt that Lavrenty wouldn't be pleased. She turned around—

And came face to face with her target.

Carter swung her fist, throwing off the woman's veil. The assassin tried to aim her pistol, but she grabbed her arm and slammed it on the truck. The gun fell to the ground. The fight continued for a few moments, until the assassin planted her knee into Carter's gut, sending the other woman into the ground. If she was to do it, it was now. Little did she know that she would never complete her mission.

A bright red bloodstain suddenly appeared on the blue cloth of her burqa, and she fell down in a heap. The shot had come from Rosie. "Are you okay, Carter?" she asked.

"Just fine," Carter replied. She scooted over to the assassin and lifted her up by the collar.

"Who sent you?"

The woman just smiled, and then a white froth escaped her lips. Her eyes became glazed, glassy. Her body relaxed, and she died.

Carter spied a thin piece of string from the woman's hand to her mouth. She pulled, and out came a tooth. A faint chemical scent emanated from the capsule.

"Cyanide," whispered Carter, tossing the tooth to Rosie. She was a little surprised at what she caught.

Nothing seemed connected here, but then she remembered that a jeep had passed by. She began to run.

"Carter, where are you going?" But she was already far away.

Her legs seemed disconnected from her brain, which was telling her to stop. She ran, faster than she had ever remembered. Her mind's eye was focused on the image of a gray jeep.

She finally stopped at an exit to a major highway. There were lots of vehicles there, making it impossible to spot an individual car. She remembered the car's license plate, but it was too far to read the plates from where she was standing. But she was sure at only one thing: it was a Russian plate.

Timofeyenko glanced at his rear-view mirror, looking for the woman chasing him. He was too far away to identify who it was, but knew it wasn't the assassin. He'd seen her death with his own eyes, not from the bullet but from the cyanide. He'd made it policy that his men carry a cyanide capsule around, to make sure that they wouldn't talk when they were caught. He'd never expected that he would see his most reliable asset die that horrible death.

Ordering that woman's assassination was a big mistake. He should have focused on advancing his employer's agents into important posts in the Afghan government. Instead, he had been taken over by revenge, and he paid for it with a trusted agent.

There was time to grieve for her, but it was not now. Timofeyenko returned to his driving and pushed the accelerator.

"Are you sure this is what happened?" asked Kulyuchev dubiously, looking up at Carter.

"What do you mean, I'm sure?!" Carter replied. "I was their target!"

"I'm not doubting that part, Carter, but what I'm talking about is what you say is this link with that breakaway Taliban faction. What makes you think that this is related with the guys that ambushed us?"

"Doesn't it make sense, Colonel? August 5, Judge al-Wahlid's convoy gets ambushed in Chahar Tut. You were there, and I helped to rescue you, the judge, Nikita, and Leonid. Don't tell me you've forgotten that."

"Yes, Carter, I haven't. But the point is, you have no proof that you were the target that time. Maybe being at the wrong place at the wrong time is getting to your nerves."

"This is not just nerves, Pavel." The colonel noted that Carter had used his name instead of his rank. Advance information from the Director had said that she was furious at that point.

"Okay, let's leave that part about me behind. First, let's talk about some things that didn't compute before. We've all been wondering how did the insurrectionists get their hands on airline schedules and be able to take out that Air Afghanistan plane. You could say they have a spy in the company, but they don't do that thing. They're not used to doing that.

"And then, the Khalilullah incident. We're still debating on who was the target, but we're pretty sure it's General Khalilullah. But the real question is, where did they get the Mil? They haven't flown aircraft before, right? And the weird thing was that the chopper was meant for the Afghan Air Force."

"That's all very serious. Are you going anywhere with this statements?"

Am I going anywhere with these statements!, thought Carter. Maybe Colonel Kulyuchev was more stupid than I thought. "Yes, Comrade Colonel, I am going somewhere. Somebody has come in contact with the insurrectionists, someone well connected, and he gave them the offer of a lifetime. Now, they are indebted to him, but in exchange they have to do everything he tells them."

Kulyuchev just nodded. "That is noted, Ms. Mason. You may go."

As she stood up to head for the door, the colonel called her back. "Carter, I will try to forget your comments when I present the report."

"Yes, Comrade Colonel."

Carter went out of the colonel's office as fast as she can without running or attracting attention. She went for the personnel's quarters. She found her door unlocked. She didn't have to worry, because she knew who was waiting for her inside.

"I take it Kulyuchev blew you off," said Rosie.

"Blew me off? He practically swatted me away like I was a fly!"

"Maybe it's just not your day, Carter."

"Damn."