suspicious or jealous of him. Personal lives develop while out in the field, as well," Kate said.
Samantha paused for a long moment. "I don't think you should even entertain the notion of sending Ajza into this."
"I thought you'd feel that way, but she's a good bet, Samantha. Her parents were from Chechnya."
"Only just. They moved to Britain when they were in their early twenties."
Kate didn't miss the fact that Samantha used Ajza's first name. Evidently she'd already developed something of a fondness for the young agent.
"According to the background I'm looking at," Kate said, "Ajza Manaev speaks the language. So did her brother. They know the old ways of the culture."
"Probably one of the reasons MI-6 shoved Ilyas over into Russia."
"Yes."
"If someone made her brother while he was on assignment there," Samantha said, "they could just as easily make Ajza."
"I hope they don't. And we've got an agent in place who should be able to help out. If he's needed. He's spent time in Chechnya as a soldier. He knows the terrain and the people."
"Ajza's young."
"All the best operatives are. You know that. An experienced agent is usually one who's also known to the opposition."
"I know."
That was one of the hard-core truths about espionage. Only the young ones remained truly invisible out on the playing field. Their greatest vulnerability, their inexperience, was also their greatest asset. Unfortunately when the assets no longer helped, that lack of experience got agents killed.
Samantha returned Kate's level gaze with her own. "You want me to bring her in."
"Let's keep an eye on her for a few days," Kate said. "Give her a few days of downtime while I try to find some leverage we can use. Then if the situation warrants, we'll bring her in and see what she has to say."
Samantha nodded. "Let me know when you want me to make contact."
"I'll be in touch." Kate touched the screen and broke the connection.
Turning her attention to her files, Kate ran through the operations Room 59 was currently working on and the ones in development. They were stretched thin.
But we're making a difference, she told herself, and clung to that. She struggled not to think of the young woman and how she'd lost her brother, or the fact that — if everything went as planned — she'd soon be asking her to step into harm's way.
She opened Mayrbek Taburova's file again and stared at the picture of the man. A cold shiver ran up Kate's spine as she studied the blue eyes. They belonged to a predator. She had no doubt about that.
14
Grozny
When the explosion sounded, Mayrbek Taburova threw himself against the apartment-building wall and reached into his jacket for his pistol. Hunkered against the building, he drew strength from the solid stone. It had stood against such explosions in the past, and there was no reason to believe it would do otherwise in this instance.
Still, Taburova's breathing shortened. He kept his pistol close to his leg, out of sight. He had a number of enemies who wouldn't hesitate to kill him the moment they saw him.
Following the explosion, brief rattles of gunfire crescendoed. Police klaxons immediately splintered the sounds.
Taburova strained his ears and listened to the noise. The explosion hadn't been very far away. The uneasy truce between the Russian occupational army and the Chechen warriors who longed for a country of their own often broke out in bloodshed. One side or the other cleaned up the damage, and together — in that way only — they pretended it hadn't happened. War in the streets cost both sides men and materials.
He glanced back at the bodyguards who followed him. All of them were quiet and self-contained. Like him, they wore street clothes, items that wouldn't draw a second glance. Though they were armed, no weapons were in sight.
"No one near here," one of the bodyguards said.
Taburova replaced his pistol. "That's good. Just make sure no one sneaks up on us."
"We're not going to let that happen,"
Samantha paused for a long moment. "I don't think you should even entertain the notion of sending Ajza into this."
"I thought you'd feel that way, but she's a good bet, Samantha. Her parents were from Chechnya."
"Only just. They moved to Britain when they were in their early twenties."
Kate didn't miss the fact that Samantha used Ajza's first name. Evidently she'd already developed something of a fondness for the young agent.
"According to the background I'm looking at," Kate said, "Ajza Manaev speaks the language. So did her brother. They know the old ways of the culture."
"Probably one of the reasons MI-6 shoved Ilyas over into Russia."
"Yes."
"If someone made her brother while he was on assignment there," Samantha said, "they could just as easily make Ajza."
"I hope they don't. And we've got an agent in place who should be able to help out. If he's needed. He's spent time in Chechnya as a soldier. He knows the terrain and the people."
"Ajza's young."
"All the best operatives are. You know that. An experienced agent is usually one who's also known to the opposition."
"I know."
That was one of the hard-core truths about espionage. Only the young ones remained truly invisible out on the playing field. Their greatest vulnerability, their inexperience, was also their greatest asset. Unfortunately when the assets no longer helped, that lack of experience got agents killed.
Samantha returned Kate's level gaze with her own. "You want me to bring her in."
"Let's keep an eye on her for a few days," Kate said. "Give her a few days of downtime while I try to find some leverage we can use. Then if the situation warrants, we'll bring her in and see what she has to say."
Samantha nodded. "Let me know when you want me to make contact."
"I'll be in touch." Kate touched the screen and broke the connection.
Turning her attention to her files, Kate ran through the operations Room 59 was currently working on and the ones in development. They were stretched thin.
But we're making a difference, she told herself, and clung to that. She struggled not to think of the young woman and how she'd lost her brother, or the fact that — if everything went as planned — she'd soon be asking her to step into harm's way.
She opened Mayrbek Taburova's file again and stared at the picture of the man. A cold shiver ran up Kate's spine as she studied the blue eyes. They belonged to a predator. She had no doubt about that.
14
Grozny
When the explosion sounded, Mayrbek Taburova threw himself against the apartment-building wall and reached into his jacket for his pistol. Hunkered against the building, he drew strength from the solid stone. It had stood against such explosions in the past, and there was no reason to believe it would do otherwise in this instance.
Still, Taburova's breathing shortened. He kept his pistol close to his leg, out of sight. He had a number of enemies who wouldn't hesitate to kill him the moment they saw him.
Following the explosion, brief rattles of gunfire crescendoed. Police klaxons immediately splintered the sounds.
Taburova strained his ears and listened to the noise. The explosion hadn't been very far away. The uneasy truce between the Russian occupational army and the Chechen warriors who longed for a country of their own often broke out in bloodshed. One side or the other cleaned up the damage, and together — in that way only — they pretended it hadn't happened. War in the streets cost both sides men and materials.
He glanced back at the bodyguards who followed him. All of them were quiet and self-contained. Like him, they wore street clothes, items that wouldn't draw a second glance. Though they were armed, no weapons were in sight.
"No one near here," one of the bodyguards said.
Taburova replaced his pistol. "That's good. Just make sure no one sneaks up on us."
"We're not going to let that happen,"
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