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Having arrived and set up by mid-morning, Kara had been sitting on a blanket at the cliff’s edge surveilling the mansion below for more than four hours. She had a pair of Leica Duovid 10+15x50 binoculars mounted to a short tripod. Her range to the home was about 500 yards, but the expensive binoculars made it appear as if she were standing next door. The mansion had been built on acreage, and if the extensive lots next to the home were owned by other landowners, they hadn’t yet utilized the property.
Kara reached up to the rod sticking out of the three-way pan-tilt head, swiveled the optics, and scanned the driveway that led up from the front entry and the small guard shack next to it. She zoomed in on a big man who sat inside. He appeared to be browsing the internet on his phone or possibly texting someone. The barrier to the mansion was a yellow and red arm that the guard could raise or lower. It was more show than a security measure. On either side of the arm was a lightweight aluminum gate. Many thick vertical bars with pointed ends had been welded to the fewer horizontal bars. They had been placed on rubber wheels allowing the gate to be rolled open and closed, like a pocket door would function in a home. Both aluminum gates stood open. The only thing preventing a car from entering the property was the arm and the security guard who likely had an AK-47.
Four cars parked in the driveway. Two of them (a newer black Mercedes and a massive black Suburban) appeared to belong to the wealthy owner. A sky-blue Toyota Corolla adjacent to a white car looked out of place—a squat Honda Civic had some lettering stenciled on the door. Kara zoomed in and read in Pashto—Faida Cleaning Services. She had arrived too late to see who had arrived in that vehicle.
The CIA agent moved the lever on the binocular three-way pan-head tilt to the right and had a clear view for inspection of the property’s backyard. It was opulent and well maintained. The home had a big pool and a large brick patio perfect for entertaining. The life of a terrorist looked to be paying off nicely. She continued to scan the back of the home for any sign of life. She saw another guard on patrol. She tracked his movements with the binoculars. While he walked the perimeter of the back of the property, he searched the distant hills for perceived threats. Next, he made a slow pass down each side of the home. Kara watched the guard’s movements and timed how long it took for each pass. If nothing else, the man was diligent. He hadn’t taken a break since she had arrived, and his rounds were timely as a junkie getting a fix.
Kara continued to watch and was somewhat surprised to see a break in the backyard guard’s rounds. Instead of walking down the side of the home and then turning around, this time he entered the front yard via a side gate. A moment later, a housekeeper emerged from the home accompanied by two children. Kara zoomed in and saw a boy and girl about six years of age. The children were well dressed in matching light blue salwar (baggy trousers) and kameez (long shirt). Kara guessed they were brother and sister. The boy was a little taller than the girl. Both children had fair skin and light brown hair.
Kara wasn’t sure if the woman was the housekeeper, nanny, or possibly both. She held a spray bottle of window cleaner and a roll of paper towels. While the children played, the woman cleaned the home’s windows. After a few minutes, the guard who patrolled the back of the property returned to his sentry duties, apparently satisfied that the children and nanny were safe.
The housekeeper had the traditional black scarf loosely wrapped over the top of her head and around her face and moved as if she was in her mid-30s. The abaya she wore hid telltale signs of her age and shape. Yet in spite of the black billowing garment, Kara could tell she was slender.
The young boy was riding a bike with training wheels around on the substantial brick driveway, and the girl was riding a smaller trike. The driveway slanted down toward the gate, and the kids took turns coasting down quickly. They pushed their bikes back up to the top and started all over.
This was Kara’s first day of observation, a Sunday. Since it was the weekend, what Kara witnessed today would be atypical of the standard schedule the family observed during the workweek. She would need to arrive early the next morning to watch the activities on a weekday. She speculated that on Monday the homeowner would go to work, and the teacher would arrive. There might be opportunities in those movements which Kara could use to her advantage.
She further considered that the car in Kornev’s barn was fully capable of making it up the road to her current vantage point. If the weather got cold or rainy it would be nice to have the car as shelter. Yes, tomorrow she would bring the car.
Kara decided to watch the mansion for a few more hours. She continued to scan the property until late afternoon. She saw an Arabic-looking man exit the mansion. He climbed into the sky-blue Toyota Corolla. She noted it was 3:15 p.m. Kara watched until the children went back inside. Either the housecleaner was a live-in or she would probably be departing soon. On the chance it was the latter, Kara packed up her gear, cranked up the bike, and allowed it time to warm up. She mounted the bike and coaxed it toward the edge of the cliff. With the bike idling quietly, she continued observing the mansion.
At 5:15 p.m., the housecleaner exited the home toting some type of bag. The woman climbed in the Honda Civic, and Kara gunned the motorcycle and quickly drove to the end of the dirt road where she couldn’t be seen from the estate. Had the housekeeper headed in the opposite direction, she would be driving off into a vast area of nothingness. There was no civilization to the north of them, just mountains, so Kara knew the woman would be passing in front of her at any moment.
The mansion was the last home on the road so there was virtually no traffic. Kara waited patiently and her patience was rewarded when she spotted the Honda come around the bend. The housekeeper paid no attention to Kara as she drove past the motorcycle. Kara twisted the throttle, eased out the clutch and pulled onto the road behind the Honda.
The traffic remained light until they drew within city limits. A few aggressive drivers passed Kara, cutting in front of her bike and separating her from the housekeeper. It was no big deal. She could still see the Honda, and if necessary, drive in the gutter to catch up. Kara realized the congestion would only increase as they entered downtown Peshawar. On the outskirts of town, the driving became stop and go. She drove through light after light, surrounded by honking horns and impatient drivers. Kara pulled into the gutter and passed three cars, bravely cutting in front of an FedEx delivery driver. Kara decided to get with the program, and just like most of the drivers, she began beeping her bike’s horn at nothing and no one in particular. It appeared this would be the best method of not drawing attention to herself. Besides, she was getting impatient too; inside her thick, black, highway-cycling leathers it was starting to get hot.
The woman in front of her eventually turned off onto a strip of beat-up dirt road that led toward a rundown complex of single-level apartments. With her bag in hand, the housekeeper got out of her car, walked over to the door, opened it with a key, and went inside. Kara saved the coordinates on her phone.
Today (Day 1) had been a fact-finding day. Tomorrow, (Day 2) would be a day to start assembling the pieces. On Tuesday (Day 3), she would move forward with her plan. Kara was well aware that every day she delayed was another day for the CIA to track her down and possibly derail her plans.
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Kara wasn’t afraid of the CIA but she did have a healthy fear of the Russian arms dealer. On one hand, she hoped Kornev had been freed from the underground tunnel where she had left him. Sure, Kornev was a scumbag, but nobody deserved to die that way. After leaving Kornev hogtied under his home, she had called his friend and left a message on the physician’s machine. The machine was her only option since the doctor never answered his phone. On the other hand, Kornev knew where she was headed and might be pissed off enough to make her pay for her actions. Kara might be a great number of things, but a sadistic monster was not one of them. At least she hoped she was not a monster. If Kornev had been liberated from his tunnel, he was still firmly in the unknown column. She hoped he wasn’t a loose cannon coming looking for her. The sooner she killed the men who had killed her parents, the better. Then after that—
Kara thought about what after that held for her, but her brain refused to delve deeper into that subject. She had no idea what would happen after that. She knew she wouldn’t continue to work for the CIA. Hell, after she was done doing what she needed to, there was no way the agency would take her back.
Was there a Marshall Hail in her life in the after that scenario? Marshall may have been turned off by her unexpected departure. Men didn’t tend to like it when women left them without notice to go on a killing spree of dangerous terrorists. But Marshall was different. She hoped he understood and supported why she had needed to leave without talking to him. After all, Marshall was on the same quest to find the terrorists who had killed his family. Kara wondered if Marshall had his own after that plan. And if he did, was there an ex-CIA agent involved?
As she drove back from the housekeeper’s home to the safe house, a mild depression grasped her tightly.
What would she do when she reached after that? Was there even an after that, after all?