LOYALTY TEST

PAUL COULTER
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 1

Zack Bowen woke in Islamabad with unaccustomed panic. It was late.

It was very late. The intense light coming from outside was blinding. He was
forced to close one eye. The radio alarm read 10:02 in big, red numbers. Now
Zack remembered. He’d reset it from his usual 6:00 when dawn still found him
scrambling to deal with bad news from Moscow.
No, Zack realized as his mind cleared into full awareness. Urgent as last
night’s crisis loomed, it wasn’t why adrenalin made it feel like angry bees were
underneath his skin. Now as the English language service repeated the report,
Zack bolted out of bed.
Armed men were barricaded inside the American School. They held 300
kids and teachers. In addition to assault rifles and grenades, they’d brought
numerous satchels of explosives. There were eight known deaths already, a
father, a teacher, and six guards. The assault began three hours earlier, while
Zack slept like a stone.
He’d needed to work so late because of Lubov’s message. 90kg Pamir
tonig, were the words that came just after midnight. They’d kept Zack hurtling
for the next five hours. He’d texted Lubov with the number of his secure land
line, but there was no response. No answer to an encrypted e-mail, either.
He’d called in carefully stashed favors to get the private number at Lubov’s
dacha. There’d been no answer on this line, either. He’d phoned Grigori
Artsev, an old drinking buddy now high up in the Moscow police. Forty
minutes later, Artsev confirmed that they’d found Lubov at his dacha, his body
like a sieve.
Lubov’s core temperature suggested he’d been dead from approximately
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 2

the time his words appeared on Zack’s cell phone. The assassins must have
burst into Lubov’s dacha even as he’d tapped the warning. Zack pictured
Lubov hitting the send button just before they shot him. Across a sheen of
clotting blood, now his glazed eyes stared at the cracked glass of a picture
frame. His wife Lyudmila and his two plump daughters smiled back.
Though Zack had alerted the entire chain of command, he didn’t have
enough time or information to stop this shipment. Not that he worked anti-
proliferation any more. But no one wanted Russian plutonium leaking out to
rogue nations and terrorists.
A bare five hours later, Zack sped cross-town through light traffic.
Lubov’s warning couldn’t have been more urgent, but now it seemed
unimportant compared to the hostage crisis here. Thank God Genna’s grown,
was all that Zack could think. Only seven years ago, she would have been
inside the school.
The terrorists had demanded complete American withdrawal from both
Pakistan and Afghanistan. Also immediate release for all “freedom fighters”
imprisoned at Guantanamo, U.S. prisons, the Navy brig at Charleston, South
Carolina, and Homeland Security’s secret facility in Alaska. When he’d reached
his assistant, Zack learned there was a list of prisoners who must be given safe
transport, including sixteen men the U.S. had never acknowledged holding. It
was ninety minutes into the three hours granted to accomplish this.
Though Zack’s own daughter was safe, doing relief work in Africa, thank
God, several close friends from the embassy had children among the captives.
Having spent the last twenty-six years working abroad in dangerous locations,
Zack knew exactly how they felt. His own work here concerned rural
development, not anti-terrorism, but the least he could do was go stand with
the frantic parents.
As he drove, Zack found news video on his phone. It showed the little
girl who’d been sent out with the list. A caption said she was the Turkish
ambassador’s daughter. Though dressed in western clothing and too young to
wear a scarf, they must have learned she was Islamic. Zack assumed that’s
why they’d spared her life.
To reach the perimeter set up by a Marine brigade, she’d had to run a
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 3

weaving path around six bodies sprawled on the school’s front drive. These
were private guards, reported the announcer. A spokesman for the contractor
said there were always ten on duty, four stationed inside the building. Though
the terrorists’ statement hadn’t mentioned them, the little girl reported that
these other guards, along with Assistant Principal Cooper and Kelly Deauville’s
father, were also dead.
The terrorists had stormed the building first thing in the morning,
quickly overwhelming the guards. They’d shot Mr. Cooper in the head when
he’d tried to bar a door against them. Mr. Deauville had died right in front of
Kelly after grabbing a gun that lay next to one of the dead guards. Then they’d
herded everyone into the gym by firing their weapons at the ceiling. Some of
the older kids had tried to break windows and escape, but the terrorists hauled
them back inside.
It seemed a well planned operation. According to the Turkish
ambassador’s daughter, there’d been twelve gunmen when the kids and
teachers were collected in the gym. She was sure of the number, because she’d
counted on her fingers. They all had assault rifles, which she recognized as
AK47s because her father’s men used the same weapons. They’d left a pair of
large, wheeled suitcases beneath each of the gym’s six basketball hoops, with
wires strung between them. Their leader sat for hours on the stage, cradling
the detonator between his palms. He didn’t let them use the water fountains or
the toilets. But as it grew extremely hot, he let them strip down to their
underwear.
Obviously, they’d modeled their assault on the Chechen raid against an
elementary school in Beslan, Russia. The only difference was they hadn’t
chosen the first day of school, so there weren’t nearly as many parents and
younger siblings present. Thank heaven for small favors, thought Zack. He’d
met a Russian officer who’d been at Beslan. The greatest horror was when the
terrorists forced mothers to choose between leaving the school with their babies
or staying with their older children.
When he arrived, Zack saw his old friend Craig Burroughs at the crowd’s
front edge. Craig’s wife was ill with breast cancer, so she’d returned to
Washington for treatment. His youngest daughter Heather was a ninth grader,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 4

a sweet girl who volunteered after school in the Ambassador’s literacy

campaign. Since Zack helped with it, too, he’d often seen Heather tutoring
Pakistani women.
As he approached, Zack couldn’t help noticing that Craig’s cheeks were
streaked with moisture. Good friends ever since signing on with State, Zack
had never known a tougher person. As a young man, Craig had been a tunnel
rat in Viet Nam. In Moscow, when they’d each been mid-level attachés, Craig
once decked a pair of street thugs armed with knives.
Now, Craig trembled visibly, though the day was very warm. He looked
like a different person since Zack last saw him yesterday, an ashen wretch with
hollow eyes. Like the other parents standing as close as the cordon of Marines
allowed, the hours of waiting had aged Craig twenty years. Zack didn’t say a
word, but put his arm around Craig’s shoulders.
Craig glanced over, squeezed his eyes shut while sucking in a ragged
breath, then exhaled and stood a little firmer.
“I’m thinking there’s a chance, if this makes it until dark,” he murmured.
“I can get in through one of the broken windows. They can’t guard them all.”
“I’ve got your back. But I don’t think this will go so long. It went three
days at Beslan, and the terrorists were popping pills to stay awake. The
Russians think that heat building up inside the school triggered the Chechens’
explosives. This group’s learned to keep their deadline short.”
“I’m praying they let the deadline pass. In Nam, I learned to move real
quiet, but I need the dark. The power’s cut, so maybe I can reach the stage
unnoticed. If I take out their leader, there’s a chance to save most of these
kids.”
“Don’t forget what the little girl said. The bastard with the detonator
never lets go of it. He’ll set off the explosives if you’re spotted.”
“He’ll do it anyway. You’re right -- this isn’t going overnight. I had a
word with the Turkish girl. She said these guys are very calm, like they’ve
made their peace with God, already.”
“You have a route in mind?”
“The broken window second from the corner. See how that culvert
passes near it? And the air conditioner screens the ground from the windows
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 5

to either side. I’ve been watching for shadows – I’m almost certain the
terrorists don’t have a man there.”
“Okay – anything you need?”
“Just the knife that’s in my boot.”
“And someone waiting outside the window.”
“Right. In case I have to toss some children to you. I hope that you’re a
fast runner.”
“I run like an arthritic giraffe, and you goddamned know it… But
listen – don’t you think we need a backup plan for daylight?”
“That’s what I’ve been working on. It’s got to be a two man operation to
have any chance they won’t detect it. We’ll need rappelling gear, flash bang
grenades, and automatic weapons. If it looks like they won’t extend the
deadline, we can access the roof behind the building’s other wing. I scoped it
with field glasses from my car - they don’t have anybody stationed there.”
“Can you get the stuff?”
“Already did. It’s in my trunk.”
“We’d have to go in hard, put twelve men down in seconds… Can’t say
I’ve done anything like this before, but I’ll give it my best shot.
Craig nodded, didn’t say another word. They both knew what the
chances were. Either of Craig’s plans might work one time out of five, at best.
But this was better odds than attacking with a larger force. If the Marines
stormed the building, all of those inside would very likely die.
There was little choice but proceeding with Craig’s plan. President Yates
would refuse to grant the terrorists’ demands. Since he happened to be an old
friend of the President’s, Zack felt certain that it would go this way. In fact,
they’d discussed this kind of hostage situation shortly after Beslan. Freeing
the jihadist prisoners would only result in most of them returning to their
violent careers. They’d kill a far greater number of innocents than those
trapped in the school. Worse, the precedent would encourage a wave of similar
attacks. It would be impossible to adequately protect U.S. citizens everywhere.
Looking around the crowd, Zack spotted Ron Padgett, the CIA head of
station. He stood with his three most experienced men alongside a knot of FBI
personnel. This group all had the look of Olympic athletes. They were from the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 6

FBI’s Fly Team permanently based in Islamabad. Elite agents, they’d been
hand picked for their ability to operate in the most dangerous environments.
They were fluent in the local languages from Urdu to Sindhi, intensively trained
in special weapons, explosives, hazardous materials, combat triage, hostage
survival, and all aspects of counter-terrorism. Zack watched their leader and
Padgett huddle with a thin colonel from the U.S. Marines. Soon, they were
joined by another colonel from the Pakistani police.
After about ten minutes, it looked like they’d agreed how to proceed. The
Marine colonel walked halfway to the school. He stopped and stripped to
skivvies, proving that he wasn’t armed. Facing the school, he raised a
bullhorn. He announced that preparations had been made to release all
prisoners named on the list.
He spoke in Pashtun, which the Fly Team’s leader then translated to the
many American parents in the crowd. The written demands sent out with the
little girl had been in English, but there’d been no verbal contact. The list may
have been prepared by someone in advance. They couldn’t assume that any of
the terrorists inside the school spoke English. But the little girl had heard
them praying in Pashtun, a language she’d learned from her housekeeper.
As the crowd’s noise hushed, Zack could hear phones ringing inside the
building. This went on for a full minute. Obviously, the terrorists had no
intention of answering. They didn’t believe this news of their compatriots’
imminent release any more than Zack did.
“We’ve already sent helicopters to the facilities in South Carolina and
Alaska,” the Marine colonel continued. “Guantanamo has its own fleet. But
there’s one small difficulty in logistics. Because of the large number of
prisoners involved, we don’t have enough long range aircraft on site to fly these
men to countries of their choice. We respectfully request an additional three
hours to carry out your wishes. We also request, as fellow believers in a
benevolent and merciful God, that you send out the children. You’ll still have
thirty adults as prisoners. Or if you prefer, volunteers such as myself will
replace the children, all stripped to our underwear.”
Craig Burroughs and Zack stepped forward immediately. They were
followed by nearly all the parents. They began taking off their shirts. The
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 7

colonel waved them to stay still. He waited in the warm, dry breeze, but no
reply came back. After another minute passed in silence, beads of sweat began
to glisten on the colonel’s back.
“At least send out the youngest ones,” he said, still using his bullhorn.
“As a gesture of good faith. I’d guess that some of you have children of your
own. Whatever your differences with America, surely the Almighty can’t look
with favor on the slaughter of innocents.”
There still was no reply. Zack looked at his watch. It was eleven
minutes until the terrorists’ deadline. The colonel must have been thinking the
same thing. He glanced down at his wrist, then raised his bullhorn again.
“For God’s sake, let’s work together. There’s no reason for more death.
Just give me something. I’m trying to get everybody out alive.”
Zack looked at Craig, who’d already retrieved the rucksack of equipment
from his car. In a grim and silent second, they decided it was time. Together,
they circled the crowd, heading for the school’s far wing. They still could hear
the colonel pleading through his bullhorn. Now there were only nine minutes
left.
As they reached the corner fifteen seconds later, a surprisingly muffled
burst collapsed the gym. Almost like some planned implosion performed by a
demolition crew. When Zack could see through the dust cloud, there was only
a huge rubble pile surrounded by scattered wreckage. A few small licks of
flame showed through the collapsed roof.
Zack raced up to the site, along with Craig Burroughs and the other
parents. Immediately, they began hauling off debris. No one found survivors.
Fearing a secondary explosion in the school’s remaining wing, or maybe
snipers, the thin colonel ordered his Marines to get everybody back. None of
the rescuers would go, of course, and the Marines could hardly force them.
Still, not one parent was able to identify remains. Zack continued dragging
away the wreckage until every single brick and girder was piled to the side, but
the explosion had been so powerful, only bits of flesh were left.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 8

At nearly the same moment along the River Gunt, Sasha Petrenko and
his three companions transferred onto horseback. In this steep terrain, their
four-wheel drives could go no further. By Sasha’s GPS, they were near the
border of Tadzhikistan. But it was equally possible they’d crossed already.
There was no marked boundary – that’s why they’d picked this wild country.
The closest border post was at the Baraghil Pass, and they were nowhere near
it.
Sasha strapped the case behind his saddle. He didn’t like the thought of
bouncing for the next eight hours so close to a lethal dose, but he could hardly
order one of his men to do it. Borya was a proven killer, as tough a fighter as
Moscow’s slums produced, but he was out of his element in this desolate
terrain. Every raven’s call or skitter of a pebble made him jumpy. The
towering peaks blocked sunlight, giving even cloudless days a gloomy air.
Snow clinging to the mountainsides threatened to break loose at any moment.
Borya was so nervous, it was even odds he’d spook his horse over the lip of a
narrow trail.
As for the second man, Pavlik was as likely to shoot him as agree. Over
the first leg of this journey, he wouldn’t even ride in the vehicle that had their
payload hidden in its wheel well. He didn’t trust the lead-lined case, insisting
that it was unlucky. After all, they were four men and it was a cube. Sasha
didn’t like to break the superstition, either. His wife Marina was pregnant with
their second child. He feared the contents of the case would make it
impossible for him to start a third.
Sasha was tempted to make their guide Gul Khan carry the case. The
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 9

Afghani wouldn’t object, because he didn’t know what it contained. Gul Khan
was a smuggler, a former mujahedin. The boss said that he’d come highly
recommended as an expert on these mountains.
But Gul Khan didn’t seem the sort to trust. He scowled constantly,
answering all questions with the briefest grunt. For their drive along the
mountain tracks, he’d indicated turns by banging either on the windscreen’s
right side or its left. They knew that he spoke Russian, but evidently he hated
his former enemy so much, he refused to let a word of their language pass his
lips. He’d vanish at the first opportunity, believing that the case held
something easily convertible to cash. He’d strand them in these barren
mountains long before they reached the meeting place.
Sasha traveled for the next two days riding double with the case. He
kept telling himself that the promised bonus was well worth risking his virility.
He could move Marina and the children into a fine apartment. He’d earn the
boss’s confidence, guaranteeing much more money in the future. He wouldn’t
have to share the rewards with anyone. Gul Khan was to be killed once the
meeting place was near. Borya and Pavlik would be taken care of once they
returned to Moscow.
On the third night, Sasha judged the time was right. Camped in a
pristine valley of the snow-crowned Hindu Kush, he’d taken the first watch. He
waited until the others all were snoring, then crept to Gul Khan’s tent. Though
it was summer, nights in these high mountains were very cold. After ducking
inside the tent flap, Sasha plunged his knife repeatedly into Gul Khan’s
sleeping bag.
The Afghani wasn’t in it. He hadn’t lived through thirty years of war
without taking precautions. He sprang from the temporary paddock where
they’d staked the horses. He hurled himself at Sasha as the Russian came out
of the tent. He got his arm around Sasha’s thick neck, and hung on as they
fell. Then he slit the Russian’s throat with a long curving knife. He knew
exactly what was in the case. He knew how valuable it was.
Pavlik wakened at the noise. He sat up sleepily. By the half moon high
above the valley, there was enough light to see Gul Khan rushing at him. He
grabbed for the Glock 9mm pistol he always kept with him in his sleeping bag.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 10

He got his fingers on it, but wasn’t in time. An instant after he touched the
pistol’s handle, Gul Khan’s knife went through his chest. A fearless man,
Pavlik wrapped his hands around the Afghani’s throat, trying to bring an escort
into death. But he felt the sucking wound sap away his strength, then another
and another.
Gul Khan turned to Borya as the third Russian stumbled from his tent.
Knowing that Borya feared spirits in the dark, Gul Khan shrieked an eerie
keen, like women at a funeral. As he crossed the clearing, Gul Khan held out
his arms, so his robe flapped like a demon’s shrouds.
Unfazed, Borya took aim at the Afghani’s forehead. Mountains and
horses and rock falls were one thing, but knives and gunshots were another.
Killing was a job that Borya liked. It reminded him of the dark streets of his
youth. Gul Khan stopped motionless, facing Borya’s Makarov.
As the two men stood there rigidly, Borya forced himself to think through
the problem. Ordinarily, he wasn’t paid to use his brain, but sometimes it was
necessary. With Sasha and Pavlik dead, it would be nearly impossible to finish
the delivery alone. But the oath he’d sworn when they’d made him a full
member meant that he must try. Besides, if he returned without the money,
he’d wind up another body floating in the Moskva. He could try starting over
somewhere else, but he enjoyed life in the organizatsiya.
After he forced the guide to draw a map showing the rest of their route,
he’d have to call the Boss. He could get the private number by scrolling
through the list in Sasha’s satphone. Though this was wilderness, he knew it
could reach Moscow. He’d report exactly what had happened. If the Boss
wanted him to proceed, he’d need to ask for the meeting’s location and other
details. Then, he’d need to know what he must say to the buyer. Borya
decided not to ask about a bonus. The opportunity to shoot people was all he
really wanted.
Satisfied that he was ready, Borya took three careful steps toward Gul
Khan. He kept his Makarov trained between the Afghani’s eyes.
“You will draw me a map of our route,” he said in Russian. Imitating
Sasha’s well-bred accent, he kept his speech slow and precise. The Afghani
would understand, whether or not he cared to use the Mother tongue. “If you
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 11

offer no tricks or trouble, you’ll stay alive. Now drop that knife, and also the
dagger you keep in your boot.”
Gul Khan slowly extended the knife, then tossed it at Borya’s feet. Next,
he reached down to his boot. But instead of dropping the second weapon, he
came bursting up. Borya fired, but the Makarov responded with a click. He
pulled the trigger again as Gul Khan’s blade stabbed through his liver. The
Makarov was empty. The night before, Gul Khan had crept into Borya’s tent
and removed his ammunition. Now, as the Boss intended, he’d finish the
delivery alone.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 12

Two weeks and a day after the Islamabad massacre, Zack Bowen became
its first living victim.
Long before Washington ground through many rounds of hearings, Zack
landed deep in the shit. The terrorists were identified as followers of Mullah
Yusef. He’d been an influential tactician for the Taliban in the days when they
controlled Afghanistan. He hadn’t been seen since the events at Tora Bora.
Though long thought dead, a careful tracing of finances established that
Mullah Yusef had bankrolled this operation. The money had been siphoned
from a water purification project near Kandahar, then laundered in a uniquely
Afghan way through opium profits. The provincial governor had been paid off
handsomely to overlook Yusef’s presence and financial dealings.
But it was Zack who’d approved the water project two years ago, while
working in Afghanistan.
“A staggering lapse in judgment at the operational level,” was the excerpt
most often quoted from Secretary van Scuyver’s statement. “This failure to
monitor funds provided by U.S. taxpayers directly countermands State
Department policy.”
Zack of course accepted full responsibility. When called to testify, he
said if it would bring back even one of the children, he’d gladly go to prison.
He didn’t try explaining that the Kandahar project was among hundreds that
he’d launched. It didn’t occur to him that this was a perfectly legitimate
excuse. Though in no way his fault, Zack couldn’t shake the feeling that his
late night pursuing Lubov’s warning had contributed to the slaughter.
“Did you even bother to inspect the site?” asked Senator Wood at the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 13

Foreign Affairs committee hearing.

Actually, this was one of the milder questions. A member of the
opposition, Wood had recently announced his candidacy for President. Likely,
he was being very careful with all his public statements.
“Yes, Senator,” Zack answered. “I made monthly inspections. That’s
what I did with all my projects. Except for the ones near Kabul – then I could
get to them biweekly. I’ve checked my logs, and the Kandahar project was
among the best run sites. In fact, it was three weeks ahead of schedule. In
Afghanistan, maybe this should have been a tip-off.”
Whatever the case, Zack had already resigned. It wasn’t so much
anticipating the howls for a scapegoat. His soon to be ex-wife Julianna called it
Zack’s fatal sense of honor.
“If you were Japanese,” she said to him, “I would have found you fallen
on your sword.”
Not accurate, Zack knew. Not even a fair caricature. A quarter century
together, and that’s really what she thought of him?
But none of this was fair. Compared to the parents’ grief, he had no
right to worry what was done to him… Still, one thing plagued Zack’s
sleepless nights.
With the attack coming so soon after Lubov’s message, is it possible the
two things are related? If so, was Lubov part of the set-up, or was his warning
legitimate? Lubov shouldn’t have even known the number that I used.
Anton Lubov had once played for the other side. After the Cold War
ended, he’d turned surprisingly accommodating. Even after Putin came to
power, Lubov had been very helpful with the Cooperative Threat Reduction
program. He’d become a trusted ally, determined to shore up Russia’s leaky
stores of nuclear material. He’d disclosed some of the worst offenses, from
mafiozhi selling tactical nukes to warheads guarded by nothing more than
chain link fences and drunken conscripts.
They’d worked together to send 125 tons of highly enriched uranium to
the U.S., where a diluted form was sold to nuclear power plants. As he’d
written in his report to State, the program destroyed over a thousand ICBMs
and deactivated almost 10,000 warheads.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 14

Zack’s instincts told him that Lubov really had uncovered something.
Inside Russia, some 35 tons of weapons grade plutonium remained at risk.
There’d been proven sales to Iran and North Korea. State of the art missile
technology was sold to India, under the guise of upgrading its satellite
program.
Assuming that the 90 kilos in Lubov’s message was Pu-239, this was
enough critical mass for three strategic warheads. If thieves sent it across the
Pamir range that night before the American School attack, who were the
buyers? Who were the couriers and what route had they followed? The Pamir
was a vast wilderness, leading into Kashmir, Pakistan, and China. The seller
might be any of the Russian syndicates. There was evidence that officials in at
least three of the former Soviet republics were involved in this trade, too. It
might even be someone within the Kremlin.
In the two weeks following the massacre, Zack had made repeated calls,
urging officials to track this missing plutonium. His efforts went nowhere. It
wasn’t just Washington’s preoccupation with the American School disaster.
Unfortunately, Lubov hadn’t provided enough information. Like so many
murders of prominent Russian figures, his assassination also went unsolved.
Without proof that this was real, Yates refused to disclose that a major case of
nuclear diversion may have happened.
The ultimatum was delivered by Hal Clark. Now a deputy director of
Central Intelligence, Clark had been Zack’s first case officer at Langley.
“If you go to the press,” Clark said, “every legal means will be pursued
against you.”
“Why stop at legal? Your boy Colquitt’s already threatened to turn
Lubov’s ninety kilos of plutonium into heroin. Never mind the fact that Lubov
had everything to do with nukes and nothing to do with drugs.”
“Cut the shit, Zack. There‘s no wiggle room on this. You’re not to say a
word.”
Zack hadn’t argued further. He knew that no one wanted this story to
break. Whether the nuclear smuggling was true or not, it was an
embarrassment to the President, to the State Department, to the intelligence
community, and to the Russians. The seller and the buyer would want this
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 15

silenced, too.
So Zack swallowed his gall and then the story. He wasn’t just an old
friend of the President’s --he remained a close and loyal friend. If Brad Yates
wanted him to fade from public view, that’s exactly what he’d do.
“I can’t have this opium scandal overshadow our successes,” Brad told
him in a phone call. “Not in the wake of the school bombing. We’ve got to get
this garbage off the headlines quickly.”
“So you’re saying I have to take it while my name gets trashed.”
“For now. My re-election drive’s all set to launch. The public supports
me because I’ve had far more successes than failures in the battle against
terrorism.”
“Hey, I was pretty damned effective, too. I hope you realize how hard it
was to get the job done in a place like that. Dammit, everyone knows Afghani
governors have sticky fingers. I did my best to work around their greed. I
warned State many times about the problem. But no one wanted to hear about
it. They just said keep up the great work. And I did. For once, schools and
clinics and water projects actually got built.”
“And those micro-lending societies you started,” said Brad. “When van
Scuyver told me about that, I was particularly impressed.”
“It’s the best way to stop terrorism, you know – by giving people better
lives.”
“No argument. Look, I realize the school bombing wasn’t your fault, but
that isn’t the point.”
“It is to the parents... And not that it’s comparable, but it’s left my life
in shreds. You know that Julianna’s filed for divorce?”
“I heard… Look, I’m going to say something you won’t like. But that’s
what friends are for.”
“If you say so.” Zack let a heavy sigh extend along the line. “Fine, go
ahead. What is it?”
“I’m sorry that you’re going through a tough time, but maybe a divorce is
for the best.”
“The best? There’s nothing good about it.”
“Zack, be honest with yourself. You can’t pretend the two of you were
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 16

happy. I hear both sides of the story, after all. You and Julianna haven’t really
meshed for decades.”
“Is that what she tells you? Dammit, I thought we were getting along
great for months before this happened.”
“What can I say?”
“The hell with it. That isn’t what I called about.” There was actually a lot
more Zack could say to Brad about Julianna, but this was absolutely not the
time. “Could you have a word with van Scuyver? About appointing me back to
my old job in Moscow?”
“Sorry, but you have to realize I can’t do that right now. You’ve got to
look at the bigger picture.”
“What picture’s that?”
“Momentum. Hate to sound full of myself, but my re-election will be
good for everyone. And a large part of my popularity comes from gaining the
upper hand over terrorists.”
“Okay, I see that, but-”
“Look, I’ve straightened out the last administration’s messes. My people
stopped the Oakland bio-terrorists just as they were about to strike. We
caught the St. Louis cell three days after they took down the arch. But
Afghanistan’s bad enough. I can’t have Pakistan look like a failure, too. This
has to go no further.”
“All right, I’ll refuse all requests for statements. Last thing I want is to
create a situation for you.”
“I owe you, buddy. After this dies down, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to
bring you back.”
But four months later, Zack still hadn’t landed another job in
government. Instead, he’d searched for an academic post, where he could
teach International Relations. But he’d applied for dozens of openings, and
been rebuffed every time.
It wasn’t so much because of the scandal from Afghanistan. Zack could
make the case he’d done as well as possible in such a nightmare of a country.
No, the most damning aspect of his resignation was that press reports had
referred to him as an ex-spy. With this baggage, no college wanted the uproar
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 17

that his presence would bring. Now, Zack was broke, going through a bad
divorce, and scraping rent together by working freelance for a Dummies look-
alike series. Russia for Imbeciles, etc.
Come to think of it, reporters must have learned about his espionage
affiliation from an administration leak. As far as anyone should know, he’d
been a career employee of the State Department.
He’d hate to think Brad was responsible. It was like his old friend was
daring him to reveal his new squeeze’s name. Zack wanted this about as little
as Brad would. Especially now, in the middle of his re-election drive. Julianna
might be bitter enough to hurt Zack in this way, or let the affair become public
knowledge to gratify her ego, but it would hurt Brad even more.
What really rankled was that Brad had reneged on his promise to help.
They went back thirty years, he’d practically carried the guy through Princeton,
and he’d never asked a favor until now.
The Brad he’d known back then would have helped him in a heartbeat.
Pleasure would have flashed across his face. His reputation as someone who
could get things done was at the heart of who Brad was. He was what they
used to call a real slick operator. The son of a commodities broker, Brad had
been president of his high school class, president of their Princeton class, too.
Brad liked to poke fun at himself, declare with a booming laugh he was
the original greasy student politician. But he was also the one who got the
dean to revoke a new rule limiting the proportion of As and Bs that professors
could hand out. He was at the heart of every student committee, a tireless
worker when money had to be raised or signatures collected. He was the one
you sent to convince a popular band to do a date on campus. And also the one
most likely to persuade important people to give a speech. He could talk your
ear off for an hour, and still you’d never call him egotistic. As Hillary once said
about Bill Clinton, Brad struck those who knew him best as a guy who would
be president some day.
Brad’s charisma was remarkable. You could walk into a party, look for
the largest knot of people, and find Brad at the center every time. Girls flocked
around him constantly, not because he had wealth, athletic stardom, or great
looks, but simply, being around Brad was more fun than anything imaginable.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 18

The girls didn’t even seem to mind that Brad wasn’t interested in a
relationship. He always made this clear – Zack had heard him say it many
times – and yet there’d be a necktie on his doorknob every weekend. Zack
couldn’t think of one girl who’d left Brad in a huff. They always looked as if
they considered themselves astonishingly lucky that he’d favored them at all.
And it wasn’t just the coeds. More than once, he’d charmed a professor’s
secretary into his room. Brad swore it wasn’t to convince them for a tiny typo
in the record of his grade. No, maybe he was genuinely attracted to these older
women.
One Thanksgiving, Zack had been his guest at the Yates’ Atlanta home.
Zack could swear there was strong sexual energy between Brad and his
stepmother Vivian. Then again, she wasn’t that much older, a stunning
redhead, maybe 30, his father’s third wife and former bookkeeper.
One thing was very clear about the Yates household -- Vivian adored her
new stepson. So did nearly every woman who came in touch with Brad. And
the remarkable thing in college was, Zack couldn’t name one male
acquaintance who resented Brad for his success. He was much more than a
chick magnet. Brad Yates took it as his personal mission to set you up with
someone’s pretty friend. He wouldn’t forget his promises and he’d always ask
you later how it went. Then beam with satisfaction to hear a good report. Or
commiserate over a date that fizzled, vowing that he’d be a better matchmaker
next time…
But now, things had changed so much between them, Zack’s calls
weren’t returned, his letters and e-mails were ignored. Oh, he’d received a
Christmas card from President Bradley T. K. Yates as usual, but instead of a
personal note, there’d only been a machine scrawled signature. Some staffer
must have forgotten to remove him from the list.
Zack also assumed they’d entered Julianna’s new address into the file.
But chances were her card would be delivered personally. If true, it put in
doubt everything he’d believed about his marriage for 27 years. Julianna’s
friendship with Brad Yates went back this far, too.
As if Zack didn’t have enough to worry about, his daughter Genna had
just sent an e-mail from Ethiopia. In a life of so many shattered expectations,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 19

she was the one shining redemption. But her e-mail brought a chilling jolt of
fear. After several paragraphs about her work at the Wallaba camp, Genna had
casually mentioned a trip into one of the most dangerous places on Earth.
In addition to his failed marriage, lost career, disgraced reputation,
bankruptcy, criminals running around with nukes, and haunting nightmares
over the American School victims, now Genna’s refugee work was taking her
into Sudan.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 20

Genna Bowen was refueling the truck from a spare drum when Adam
pushed her hard. She was light and he was very strong, so she rose a good
foot off the ground. Her legs and arms pin-wheeling through the humid air,
she flew far enough to take three rapid breaths.
What’s the world record in long jump, anyway? came into Genna’s heat-
numbed thoughts before she even wondered why Adam had sent her airborne.
She landed in an overgrown ditch by the side of the dirt road. Red soil
caked against her skin. Using the hand pump on this blisteringly hot day had
made her stream with sweat.
“Stay down!” Adam shouted from the direction of their truck.
Genna was so surprised, she didn’t protest. Instead, she lay like a
wrapped corpse as a mongoose chattering with outrage stood on its hind feet.
After several seconds of glaring, it scurried across her torso and down the
ditch.
God, I hope it wasn’t hunting snakes, she thought.
Genna fought the urge to rise as the drone of an aircraft’s turbines grew
distinct. Now she realized why Adam had shoved her from the road. This was
South Sudan, and war had erupted with the north again. It was a stacked bet
that any jet plane in these parts was military. And only the Khartoum
government had an air force.
Almost always, they refused permission for relief agencies to airdrop aid,
even during the worst emergencies. In the past year, they’d shot down three
crews that had tried. In the current climate, it was safer for NGOs to send
supplies overland to refugee camps, but Khartoum also liked to strafe these
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 21

trucks. They claimed the convoys carried weapons. Genna and Adam weren’t
even part of a convoy. If they were killed, no one would know what had become
of them.
As centipedes skittered near her face, Genna heard the plane’s loud
thrum become a roar. Risking a peek, she saw a jet fighter descend out of a
shimmering sky. It was coming very fast in their direction.
“Adam!” she shouted.
He was leaning into the truck’s cab. Why wasn’t he in the ditch with
her?
She saw spits of fire reaching from the fighter’s wings, dirt dancing in a
double line that rushed straight up the road. He’d be sliced in two. Or turned
to cinder when the truck exploded.
“Adam!” she screamed as loud as possible.
Genna couldn’t look. She wrapped her arms over her head.
And then she heard the staccato clatter of Adam firing back. Peeking up
again, she saw the plane veer off. After it banked around, Adam trained fire on
its engines. He just stood there as the fighter’s bullets swept across the canvas
covering their truck bed.
As if he sensed no danger, Adam continued firing until one of his bursts
caught the cockpit. Maybe Adam believed he was protected by the juju that a
refugee had given him. The jet was so close as it passed overhead, bright
sunshine made its cracked glass glisten like a spider’s web. Genna could even
see the pilot’s hatless profile and his balding forehead. A look of panic was on
his face as he veered. A second later, he rose sharply. He didn’t return for a
third pass.
Either Adam had damaged the jet or scared away its pilot. Genna
climbed out of the ditch, ran to Adam, stared into his joyful eyes. He looked
thrilled at the adventure. Elated at his victory, like this was some kind of
football championship and he was about to break into a celebration dance.
No, not football. More some skillful game like pool. Adam didn’t even
have a scratch. Genna felt amazed that he’d survived at all. She wanted to
kick him in the groin for being so damned brave. He must really think his life
was charmed, impervious to bullets. Instead, she hugged Adam with all her
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 22

strength. She had to feel the proof that he was in one piece.
“Will they be back?” asked Genna when she could finally trust her voice.
“Probably not. I think he was low on gas. We’re at the limit of their
range – they don’t usually fly this far south. I wouldn’t have let you come, if I
thought there was a chance of something like this happening.” Adam looked
off to the north, where the fighter’s glinting shape receded toward the horizon.
With its noise gone, the savannah had resumed its normal murmurs. “You’re
all right, aren’t you? Sorry I threw you so hard.”
“I’m fine. You saved my life… again. But how did you learn to shoot
like that? Were you in the Army?”
“That’s the last thing I’d do. Told you, I’m against all forms of violence.
Besides, you know I’ve only been out of school four months. This Africa trip
was supposed to be a finding-myself phase.”
“I think we’ve found out more than enough for one day. All I can say is
thank God you bought that rifle.”
Genna knew it was a fully automatic M-16, likely pilfered from an
American arsenal originally. She’d been with Adam when he bought it in
Asmara. She didn’t like firearms or blood sports, but had learned to shoot,
herself. Even in the relatively safe zone of Western Ethiopia where they’d come
from, no one was foolish enough to drive through the bush unarmed.
“We’d better finish refueling and get underway,” said Adam. “The folks in
camp, they’ll be expecting us.”
An hour later, they rolled into Sabemba. Genna’s GPS app showed they
were fifty-three kilometers north of Juba. The camp’s serene appearance
surprised her. Everything looked peaceful. The few people out in the strong
midmorning sun showed no signs of malnutrition. No injuries from recent
fighting. No well-fed SPLA soldiers bullying their way into the stores. This
camp looked so much better than the ones where she’d worked. Almost like a
village. The mud-walled tukuls had neatly thatched roofs. The surrounding
hills were beautiful, not raw wounds stripped of greenery.
As they drove past a well, Genna saw women calmly filling plastic jugs.
So there must be enough water for all to share. She’d expected things inside
Sudan to be far worse than the Ethiopian camps. In addition to the current
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 23

fighting, wars had blighted this sad country for decades. Not to mention the
draughts and famines that plagued East Africa in repeated waves.
This seemed so strange. At Sabemba, there wasn’t a ragged tent or blue
plastic lean-to in sight. There was no smell of death. No men with clubs to
beat throngs clamoring around a slowly dripping pump. No desperate hands
tearing at the truck before it even stopped. No riots between new arrivals and
those who’d been here longer. No dusty, emaciated faces that looked like
ghosts. No naked children with distended bellies. So there must be enough
food, too. Then what was the urgency about delivering this truckload of dried
lentils?
In the camp she’d left yesterday morning, the diet was a meager gruel.
Stores of flour had to be protected by armed guards. The sacks were carefully
rationed or they’d run out long before the next shipment arrived. A tiny bowl of
vegetables was a rare luxury. People were so poor, their only possessions were
the tattered clothes they wore. A few of the stronger men would labor in barley
fields for a pittance, but most refugees had no money and no hope of earning
any.
They didn’t even get sufficient water. Girls walked three hours every
morning to a muddy hole fouled with cattle droppings. Among her many duties
at the camp was public health, but Genna couldn’t begin to eliminate this
source of disease when the refugees had no other choice. The locals of Wallaba
Province only tolerated a camp here because the arid plain was worthless for
grazing. Now it was nothing but bare dust. Even the thorn trees had been
stripped for firewood. Consequently, there wasn’t one small bit of shade.
In the afternoons, girls walked another two hours across the dusty plain
to gather dead bushes. With the sticks that they brought back, their mothers
could cook the family’s daily gruel. The bushes were in the opposite direction
from the cattle tank. They also had to tend smaller children, so girls didn’t
come to the school that Genna had helped build.
In the first camp where she’d worked, a few attended lessons, but all
stopped by the age of twelve. She’d learned the reason from one of the nurses –
these girls lacked even scraps of cloth to use during their periods. So she’d
spent half her small salary to buy cases of sanitary pads the next time she’d
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 24

gotten a ride to Addis Ababa. But when she’d tried to coax the girls back to
school, an elder had patiently explained why this was unnecessary. After all,
no female needed to learn reading.
Genna’s thoughts were jolted back to Sabemba as Adam stopped their
truck. He’d pulled up in front of a building made of corrugated tin. The only
sizable structure visible, it had a sign in English and Arabic identifying it as
the camp’s headquarters. After silencing their truck’s loud rumble, Adam used
his satphone to tell Dr. Adad they’d arrived. Somebody else came on the line,
told Adam to wait, then went off to find the doctor. Adam got out of their
truck, walked around to its tailgate, began to check the shipment.
Genna knew that Adam had arranged their truckload within days. This
could only mean it was black market. When he’d invited her along, Adam said
that Dr. Adad had begged this favor, after the camp’s regular shipment was
stolen at the Massawa port. He’d never exactly explained how he knew the
doctor.
This camp was run by the South Sudan government, while Genna’s was
funded through the U.N. Adam had no direct affiliation with any relief agency.
But he had a great gift for languages. In the short time he’d been in western
Ethiopia, he’d already learned Thongjang, Dinka, and Nuer. Every time he
visited, she’d find him hunkered in a ring of refugees, trading stories. Though
he hadn’t known a word of Arabic when they first met, he now spoke fluently in
the Juba dialect used as a common tongue throughout South Sudan.
Genna hoped these language skills would protect Adam in what he
planned to do. He’d let her read the start of an investigative series he was
writing about conditions in the camps. Now would come the hard part as he
traveled through the battle zone to reach the even more dangerous territory of
Darfur.
She admired Adam’s passion, but it seemed a crazy plan. Adam wasn’t
a journalist, either. His degree wasn’t even in journalism or some related field.
He’d studied Medieval History at Duke. She was a bit older, a few years out of
college. Her political science degree from Princeton and Dad’s pull at the time
had landed her grunt work with the Foreign Service. She’d stayed three years,
before signing on with the UNHCR.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 25

“I hope that pilot didn’t shoot up all the cartons,” Adam said as she
joined him at the tail gate. “The ones in front look pretty bad. Last thing these
people need is lead supplements in their diet.”
Genna couldn’t help but smile at Adam’s stupid joke. They’d nearly died
that morning, yet his confidence was as abundant as ever.
“Whatever metal they find, they’ll think that it’s a bonus. Nothing goes to
waste here. You’ve seen that.”
“Yeah, I know, but it still pisses me off,” Adam said straight-faced. “I
paid for nice clean boxes.”
Then Adam started speaking into his phone. Dr. Adad must have come
onto the line.
As she stared at all these boxes, Genna wondered how Adam could afford
to buy a truckload of lentils at black market prices. Not to mention at least six
similar contributions in the four months she’d known him. His generosity
wasn’t funded by any newspaper or magazine. None of his expenses were.
He’d told Genna that his project was strictly a freelance operation, with no
advance sale.
It couldn’t be personal savings, either. He’d only finished school last
spring. And the way Adam acted, he’d shown no sign of growing up the son of
wealth.
Wherever the money came from, Adam radiated certainty that his work
would do some good. Every time she looked at him, Genna felt more positive
about the troubled world. The attraction wasn’t only to his self-assurance. Of
course there was his intelligence, his optimism, his considerable charm. Not to
mention looks that made her stomach feel like mush that first time they spoke.
Most of all, Genna liked the way that Adam got things done.
After they delivered the lentils, Adam planned to leave immediately for
his expedition deep into Darfur. There, he’d do his best to evade the jinjaweed
and government offensives, while pursuing the heart of Sudan’s refugee crisis.
He’d arranged for his guides to meet him here today. Adam said they were
Zaghawa. She knew these people were nomadic herdsmen from western Sudan
and Chad. Meanwhile, she’d return the truck to Addis Ababa, accompanied
by a Fur tribesman named Matthias.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 26

The hundreds of Sudanese tribes, languages, and allegiances had

seemed incomprehensible to Genna when she’d first arrived. Though many of
the southern people spoke Arabic, they weren’t Arabs. Their persecution by
the Khartoum government wasn’t as much a matter of religion as of race.
Sudan was divided between an Arab north, long dominant, and a black south.
Civil wars had raged for decades, long before the world took notice of the
Darfur crisis. There’d been many peace agreements, all broken. Now, besides
the north-south divide, and the jinjaweed atrocities in the west, there were also
vicious fights between rebel groups for a share of power in South Sudan.
“Matthias isn’t here yet,” said Adam after he finished his call. “I’m not
clear on the details, but he’s been delayed. It’s probably nothing major.”
“I hope not... There’s no rush to get started, is there? Or do you think
more fighter planes might come?”
“Not really. Like I said, they almost never come this far.”
“Good. What about the lentils? Should we start unloading?”
“You can’t do that, babe. You know it isn’t proper here.”
“Yeah, men’s work. I forgot. So I’m supposed to just sit inside while you
sweat?”
“No, Dr. Adad says he’ll send boys out to do the job. He apologized that
he can’t greet us personally, but he’s busy with a patient in the clinic.”
“Does he need help? Tell him that I have some training.”
“I don’t think so. From what I could understand, there was an attack on
a camp north of here. I’m not sure whose troops it was, but the camp’s doctor
was badly wounded. They brought him and the other casualties to Dr. Adad.
I’m guessing that they’re men, and only their own women are allowed nearby.”
“Oh. They’re Shilluk?”
“I don’t know. Some of the others are just as strict. Speaking of which,
you’d better put on your head scarf.”
Four youths came around the corner of the building as Genna knotted
the scarf beneath her chin. Smiling broadly, the tallest of them approached the
truck. Judging from his facial features, Genna guessed the boy was Dinka.
After Adam said something in this language, the boy answered rapidly, then
waved the others forward. They set to work carrying cases from the truck into
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 27

the warehouse. After another exchange with Adam, the tall boy pointed to
another building. Genna only knew some rudiments of Dinka, but she
gathered that Adam had asked about Matthias and his guides.
“He doesn’t know Matthias, but my guides are the ones who brought the
casualties,” said Adam. “I’m going over to the clinic to talk with them. This
boy has promised you’ll be safe, but I’ll leave the rifle just in case.”
“What if Matthias never shows?”
“Then you’ll have to return the truck alone.”
“Hey, not that I’m scared, but you’ve told me twenty times it isn’t safe for
a woman to travel in Sudan alone.”
“It’s not. But you should be all right if you keep the rifle. Anyway, I’m
sure Matthias will come soon. If he’s like other Fur I’ve met, they always keep
their word.”
“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you part of the way. You
know I have some time off. Mary insists I shouldn’t show my face in camp for
the next two weeks. She says it’s important for staff to get away at least once a
year.”
“Come on, we’ve been over this. It’s dangerous. And the people I’ll be
with, they’ve never met you.”
“So what? Zaghawa don’t have strict rules about men mixing with
women.”
“Just get the truck back safe for me, all right? Wasn’t that enough of an
adventure we had this morning? And you know it’s much, much worse up
there.”
“Okay,” Genna said, not wanting to argue on their last hour together.
Until the strafing, they’d had a glorious two days driving to the camp. It
was by far the most time they’d managed together since they met. And last
night. God, that had been wonderful. Though the truck’s cab was cramped
and smelled of diesel, she’d woke this morning feeling like she was in Eden.
She wondered what the wildlife thought of the noises they’d heard.
Just thinking of it now made Genna’s thighs grow warm. She was drawn
to Adam more than any man she’d ever known. So capable, so comfortable in
any situation. So determined to fix every problem. And so cocky, he could joke
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 28

about which of them was prettier.

Actually, it wasn’t much of a contest. She never bothered with make-up
here. Nothing but ChapStick on her lips. No mascara to set off her light green
eyes. No blush beneath her round cheekbones. There was no need -- strong
sunshine every day had colored her normally ivory skin tone many shades. No
highlights for her wheat blonde hair. No curls to fuss with, anyway. The
intense heat had quickly taught Genna to cut her hair short. The only product
that she used on it was perfume-free shampoo. The floral ones attracted
clouds of gnats.
Here in Africa, Genna barely gave a thought to clothing, either. The
sinuous figure that had always drawn men’s eyes, now she could simply cover
it with tee shirts and old jeans.
In fact, one of the things Genna liked about this work was that there was
no advantage to physical beauty. The undeserved edge she’d always felt her
looks provided was no factor here. It came as a distinct relief that she no
longer had to worry about appearance.
Now Adam, he’d look gorgeous anywhere he was. That wavy yellow hair,
soft like a baby’s. Those eyes, an intense blue like sapphires shining in the
sun. His finely sculpted profile – she could swear she’d seen his alabaster
double in the National Gallery’s collection of Greek statuary. She especially
liked Adam’s arms, so strong the day he’d saved her.
Make that the first time he saved me, Genna realized. Was there anything
more romantic than the way they’d met? And if she was being honest with
herself, part of it was that Adam’s throw-back personality couldn’t have been
more different than the only man she’d thought she loved before him.
Richard was one of the main reasons she’d come to Africa. She’d fled
here to be as far from him as possible. She couldn’t understand how their
romance ended so hurtfully. For two years, they’d built a deep commitment
she’d thought was like an ark. All those nights they’d sat up talking about
things that really mattered. And even closer to her heart, the little things that
made spending time with him so fun. She’d loved Richard’s quirky sense of
humor. The spontaneous parties he’d throw for his students and colleagues.
The card tricks he’d do to entertain strangers while waiting in a restaurant
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 29

lobby.
But everything that Richard said he loved about her, these were exactly
the qualities he’d ridiculed in the end.
“Wow, I feel so lucky we’re together,” she remembered Richard’s exact
words after the first time they’d made love. “You’re the perfect woman, Genna,
and it isn’t just your beauty. I adore your vibrant mind, your commitment to
your work, the way you do the right thing every time.”
But after she’d caught him with a Georgetown coed, Richard accused her
of putting so much energy into helping other people, he didn’t feel important in
her life. What a load of crap – he was the one who’d made their relationship a
low priority.
”When Matthias comes, give him the rifle.” Adam’s comment broke into
Genna’s thoughts. “You’ll do the driving, so he can stay alert for trouble.”
“What about you? Where you’re going, you’ll need a weapon.”
“It’s better if I don’t go armed. If there’s any trouble, my guides will take
care of it. Matthias can return the rifle next time he sees me.”
“You mean you’re just going off with them?”
“I’ll come say goodbye if possible. You know you mean a lot to me. If
nothing else, your kiss will have to get me through the next month of nights.”
Adam grinned, counting on his irrepressible personality to cut quickly through
her irritation. “But remember, you need to get started before noon. It’s always
better to drive in daylight here. If Matthias hasn’t showed by then, just go.”
“All right. But-”
“If he’s with you, drop him at the bus depot in Addis Ababa before you
return the truck. It’s only a short distance in the good part of town. A yellow
garage on the southwest corner, after you pass the market where they sell
second hand clothing. Honk twice at the gate, then once more after you wait a
beat.”
“I know. This is the third time you’ve told me. I make sure Mengistu
gets the keys. He’s a long-faced man who’s always smiling.”
“Right. He’s real good people.”
“For a black marketer, you mean.”
Adam didn’t reply to this, just winked. They saw a group of five men
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 30

stop their jeep in front of the clinic. As they got out, Genna saw that they were
short and muscular. They must be soldiers in one of the rebel factions.
Though they weren’t dressed in uniform, they looked much too well fed to be
refugees. Adam peered at them, then walked over to the clinic. When he
exchanged salaams with their leader, Genna knew they were the Zaghawas
who’d escort him to Darfur.
Adam didn’t wave or look her way before he went inside the clinic with
them. In fact, he gave no sign that she was of the least importance. Genna
assumed this was because the Zaghawa men were watching.
Genna turned on the truck’s engine, left it idling so she could run the air
conditioning. The day was broiling. She couldn’t go inside as she waited for
Matthias. She didn’t have to worry about how much gasoline she used -- they
carried four drums of extra fuel. She got out her phone, to finish a letter she’d
been writing to Dad. They traded e-mails every other day, and Dad called once
a week, but it had been a while since she’d told him what her life was really
like. She hadn’t even mentioned Adam in the e-mails or phone calls, but now
she wanted to write all about him.
Before it fell apart with Richard, Dad had known and liked him very
much. He would have been so happy if marriage had resulted. Dad was at the
point of life where he longed to dote on grandchildren. Mom had confided once
that they’d tried hard for another pregnancy, but a fertility specialist finally
discovered Dad’s sperm count was very low.
Not that Genna felt pressure as an only child to continue the family line.
Dad supported all her choices. As for Mom, though they had a difficult
relationship, this had never been a point of contention in their mother/
daughter battles. In fact, Mom would hate to admit that she was old enough to
be a grandmother.
Tough luck. Mom wouldn’t have a choice about it soon. Genna loved
children, and planned to have a big family some day. She’d thought that it
would be with Richard.
Until she’d caught him sleeping with the coed. Genna couldn’t
understand why on earth he’d do this. Never mind the connection that she’d
thought they shared. Until that night, their sex life was fantastic. This girl
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 31

was attractive, but Genna knew that most men found her very pretty, too. Why
would Richard want to rip up all they had, just for a taste of something new?
Her friends couldn’t understand it, either. They’d all liked Professor
Hottie, as they’d called him. Her best friend Eve used to say Richard was one
of the rare eligible guys who actually got it when it came to relationships. The
breakup left Genna so confused, she’d even asked Dad for the male perspective
on why guys feel the urge to cheat. He hadn’t been able to explain it, either.
But then, he’d always been in love with Mom. Which was the second
reason that Genna had wanted to work far away from home. The divorce was
doing so much damage to both Mom and Dad. They’d been married half a life.
Now, they couldn’t even be in the same room without seething. And they each
turned to Genna for support. Mom and Dad both wanted her to think it was
the other’s fault.
She couldn’t take sides. She loved them both. She’d known Mom much
better growing up, because of Dad’s postings overseas, but she was much more
like Dad in personality. As she sat in the a/c’s welcome blast of chilly air,
Genna remembered their favorite tradition on Dad’s holiday visits home.
Each year, they’d spend Christmas Eve through New Year’s Day helping
at a shelter for battered women and their kids. Dad got a kick out of dressing
up as Santa Claus, then he’d turn up as Father Time on New Year’s Eve. He’d
act outraged when the kids saw through his disguises. There’d always be a few
who’d insist he was the same guy who’d worn a Santa suit the week before.
Dad would swear there’d never be another toy or candy bar all their lives, but
they knew his bluster was an act.
Except, Genna saw him lose it, once. A sad eyed woman named Yolanda
had a custody hearing. Dad had given her a ride to the court, and offered to
watch her two young kids. Outside on the courthouse steps, a very large man
with the build of a weightlifter grabbed Yolanda’s arm. The two little kids
shrank back in terror. Fat tears poured down the three-year old’s face. Even
at the age of ten, Genna realized that Yolanda’s assailant must be her
husband, and that he must have hurt her many times.
Dad stepped between Yolanda and the man. Genna saw Dad’s face turn
into someone else, a chilling sight, a stranger prone to violence. Anything but
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 32

the kind and gentle dad she'd always known. In a menacing tone she’d never
heard him use before, Dad told the man to leave.
“Go back to the rock you crawled out from,” Dad said. “Go and don’t
come near these fine people any more. You won’t be hurting them again. I’ll
see to it, I promise.”
The man swung at Dad viciously. Dad was carrying a folded stroller he’d
given to Yolanda as a Christmas present. Dad raised the stroller to block the
punch, then thwacked the big man in his temple. It was over in one shot. The
man collapsed, then bounced down about ten steps to the courthouse lawn.
Dad didn’t even turn around to see if cops had witnessed him knocking out the
guy. He simply handed the stroller to Genna, lifted both of Yolanda’s children
in his arms, continued up the stairs, then went inside the building. In the
fifteen years that followed, he’d never once mentioned this incident.
That was Dad. An ever-changing version each time he returned from
Europe, but all of them had an enormous heart. Or maybe he only seemed so
different because she’d grown another half year older each time that she’d see
him.
Mom, conversely, never changed. Some of it was Botox, hard work at the
gym, and strict attention to her diet, but mostly it was her steadfast attitude on
what society should be. She came from tidewater Virginia, adhering to a social
code that had vanished long before her birth.
In Mom’s book, a woman of position acted a certain way. If you couldn’t
live up to these standards, why, you were nothing. Every year on Christmas
Eve, she’d get out the diamond and emerald necklace passed down from her
great-great-grandmother, dress in a gown she’d spent three days shopping for,
give Dad her look of cold reproach for dressing in his Santa suit, make him
change into his tux, then drag him to the country club, where he’d have to
spend at least two hours before he’d finally be allowed to go down to the
shelter.
This continued every year, even after Genna had grown up, finished
college, and followed Dad into an international relations career. She wondered
if he still dressed up as Santa Claus and Father Time. He hadn’t mentioned it
this year. But then, it had always been hard getting Dad to talk about his life.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 33

Other than “Uncle” Brad, she’d never met any of Dad’s friends. But when she’d
worked at State, it had been so gratifying to learn how many people respected
the hell out of him. Not surprising, though. He’d always been her hero.
It hurt so much to see him grieve for Mom’s lost love. Not to mention all
the mess that followed his last posting. The investigations. The congressional
hearings. The attorney’s fees that left him broke. The administration’s
disavowal must have been especially devastating. For God’s sake, Uncle Brad
was like a brother. Genna could well remember him dropping in each Easter,
Halloween, and birthday with armfuls of presents.
With all this going on, she’d only wanted to leave her job at State, go
someplace far away. She’d been ready, anyway. In the fight that followed the
coed’s rapid departure, one of Richard’s accusations had been true. Genna
was an idealist. She’d wanted to do her bit toward restoring the United States’
reputation in the world. For gosh sake, how hard could it be to demonstrate
that Americans really were good people? But what she’d learned was that her
job was only to present the administration’s line. No deviation was tolerated if
you expected your career to continue.
And so she’d come to Africa, working first at a camp run by Médecins
Sans Frontières, then at the U.N. camp. Genna knew she’d volunteered only to
escape, but soon discovered that she really was making a difference. Over the
last year, it had been a great joy helping these terribly abused people. The
happiness that radiated from their faces as she’d built that mud brick school
with them. Or helped in the clinic, dispensing medicine. Or distributed food.
Or when she’d persuaded the Azande elders that their people must dig a new
latrine far from the tents.
Genna regretted that she hadn’t come here years before. But she also
regretted running away. Dad and Mom still needed her, she knew. Every time
Mom wrote, she asked when Genna was returning. And when Dad called, she
heard the same unspoken question. She never knew what she should say.
It was 11:40 now. She couldn’t wait much longer for Adam to come
outside. She doubted that he’d say goodbye anyway. The Zaghawas would
consider him weak to hug his woman before heading off to danger.
She really should get going. The lentils had long since been unloaded.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 34

Adam’s friend Matthias slouched in a doorway of the warehouse, the only

available shade outside. He chewed qat leaves, spitting every half a minute.
When he’d showed up an hour ago, she’d invited him to sit with her in the
truck, but he’d mumbled something that she didn’t catch.
Matthias probably thought that it would be unseemly here in camp.
Despite the fact that no one else was anywhere in view. No wonder, with such
fierce midday heat. Every time Genna stepped out of the truck to peer at the
clinic where Adam had disappeared, the sun felt like it blazed down through a
magnifying glass.
She glanced again toward Matthias. She’d only met him once before.
He’d been with Adam that day the mob had panicked at Wallaba. With the
food stores running out, she’d been knocked to the ground. Bare feet were
mashing down on her. No one heard her cries among the clamor. Desperate
people surged forward to scoop a handful of flour from spilled sacks. As they
trampled over her, all Genna could breathe was swirling dust.
Like survivors of disasters often report, her life had literally begun to play
out in her mind. Childhood scenes of dance recitals, glee club performances,
Brownie pageants, soccer games. If Dad was home, he never missed them.
Mom didn’t either, but the difference was that Dad’s face always beamed with
pleasure.
Memories of Mom came, too – arguments over changing clothes and
using proper English. Mom hated slang. She was adamant that everything a
young lady did must set the proper tone for her whole life. Their worst fights
came in the pre-teen years, when Genna rebelled against Mom’s obsession with
appearance. Mom hated that she’d wear nothing but jeans and sweat shirts.
She couldn’t understand why Genna wasn’t proud to show off her rapidly
blooming figure.
Dad was so embarrassed by it, too. That time at thirteen when he’d met
their plane at Sheremetyevo. Mom had forced her to wear a dress for the trip.
Dad’s eyes blinked rapidly to see his daughter, not his usual beam of
happiness, but shock that she’d turned curvy overnight. He’d blushed beet red
and could only hug her sideways.
Suddenly, the swirling dust and memories parted. It was like the Bible
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 35

story of Moses at the Red Sea. Through the riot’s swarm of thin brown legs,
Genna saw bodies knocked aside like bowling pins. Dozens of them launched
into the air, mimicking the long-winged birds that circled constantly above the
camp. Then Adam’s strong arms reached down to lift her up and carry her like
a bride into his truck.
He must have just arrived. Matthias was standing guard beside the tail
gate, cradling an old South African R4 rifle. He’d been ready to shoot if the
mob came in their direction. With her head nestled against Adam’s neck, the
choking stench of mud and starving people replaced by Adam’s sweat, she
realized that she hadn’t thought of Richard once as she’d lay there curled into
a ball.
Adam said something in the Fur language to Matthias, then set Genna
down in the truck’s cab. After she’d regained her breath, Genna assured them
she was only bruised. A minute later, she’d left the truck to help Adam
distribute his truckload of high protein pulse. Meanwhile, Matthias continued
standing guard. Unlike most of the Sudanese she’d met, he never smiled. His
expression was perpetual gloom, his sharp chin like a dagger.
Adam told her later that Matthias came from a village near the border of
Sudan and Chad. He’d been a millet farmer, until the jinjaweed slaughtered
hundreds of people from his clan. The world’s image of the Darfur crisis was
bands of brigands attacking from horseback, but the jinjaweed worked closely
with Khartoum. They’d arrived in personnel carriers, armed with assault rifles
and grenade launchers. Matthias had returned from the fields to find his wife
and all of his eight children dead. He’d joined one of the rebel armies, fought
for six years until Southern Sudan gained autonomy.
But then the peace treaty fell apart when rebel leader John Garang was
killed. He’d recently been named Vice President in a unity government of all
Sudan. He was returning from a meeting with Uganda’s president when his
helicopter crashed. An international investigation could find no mechanical
problems with the helicopter, while the cockpit recording showed only routine
conversation. A wave of recriminations and conspiracy theories followed.
South Sudan achieved de facto independence and outsiders like Matthias came
under suspicion. Now, Matthias worked as an interpreter for the various aid
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 36

groups. Which seemed odd, because the whole day she’d spent with him and
Adam, she didn’t hear him speak a single word.
At noon, she walked over to Matthias and politely suggested that it was
time to leave Sabemba. He nodded gravely, returned his twist of qat leaves to
his pocket, turned and spat a final time. Genna was tempted to use her
satphone, call Adam, ask him to come out from the clinic, say goodbye. But
she’d make him lose face in front of his guides.
It was probably better this way. She’d get emotional, show how much
his journey worried her. They had something special – Adam was the only man
she’d ever been with who tried to understood just how her mind worked. Still,
Genna didn’t want him knowing how much she loved him already.
As she walked back to the truck, Genna heard commotion from the
clinic. She turned and saw Adam arguing with the Zaghawas. It was very
loud. The four Zaghawas who didn’t speak Arabic were yelling at him in their
native tongue. Their expressions were furious.
The one with a thick scar through his nose and lips shoved Adam hard.
Adam shoved him back. He towered over the scarred Zaghawa. When the man
reached for a dagger on his belt, Adam knocked it from his hand and punched
him in the face. The scarred man staggered back into the clinic’s cinder block
wall. He screamed what must be curses, accompanied by a hand signal like a
twisting fist. Adam stepped toward him, yelling just as loud. It seemed he’d
picked up some of the Zaghawa language, too.
The man nearest to Adam raised his rifle. One hundred yards away,
Genna screamed a warning over the rumble of her truck. Her voice was loud
enough that Adam turned. But the Zaghawa clubbed him in the temple. Adam
sunk to his knees, blood streaming down his face. All five Zaghawas pointed
their weapons at him. Genna snatched the M-16 that she’d given to Matthias.
She fired a burst above their heads.
“No, miss!” screamed Matthias in Arabic. He grabbed her arm. “We
must drive now.”
“Let go. They’ll kill him. He has no chance. He isn’t armed.”
“They’ll kill you, too, and me. Please start the truck.”
“I’m not leaving without Adam.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 37

She tried to jerk the M-16 back on target, because now the Zaghawas
were dragging Adam around the clinic’s corner. She elbowed Matthias in his
ribs, yanked her arm free, then started running toward the building. Matthias
caught up in six strides. Still coughing with pain, he got his hands around
Genna’s shoulders.
“They don’t want to kill him, but they’ll do it if you fight,” he said with a
grimace.
“How do you know?”
“I recognize the leader of those men. He’s not a soldier. He steals and
smuggles for a living. And kidnap, sometimes, too.”
“What – these Zaghawas intend to hold Adam for ransom?”
“They’re not Zaghawa. They’re Acholi, from the Uganda border area.”
“But they want money? I don’t have any.”
“You can get some. That’s what they think. They know all Americans
are rich.”
“That isn’t true. Adam comes from an ordinary family. So do I.” Well,
not so ordinary, but no piles of money lying around.
“It takes a lot less than you think. Ten thousand U.S. dollars is a king’s
fortune here.”
She saw Adam struggle to escape. He twisted out of the tall one’s grasp,
kicked his other captor in the knee, ducked a rifle butt as the squat one tried
to club him again, and lurched toward her. The scarred one retrieved his knife
and came at Adam’s back. Genna fired another burst over their heads. Now
four of the Acholi fired back as Adam fought with the scarred man. Catching
his opponent’s wrist, Adam cracked the man’s arm against the wall to make
him drop his knife.
Genna kept firing over their heads. No expert shot, she feared that she’d
hit Adam if she aimed lower. She heard the popping of their return fire. All of
them seemed to be armed with single shot rifles. She hoped to scare them off
with her superior fire power. She advanced steadily, firing short bursts. She
had a spare clip, which Adam had showed her how to change. She was about
to do it, when she heard a metallic ping, followed immediately by breaking
glass. She guessed that a bullet had ricocheted off the warehouse’s wall, then
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 38

burst the truck’s rear window.

A second later, Genna felt a scorching swipe across her cheek. She
didn’t stop to feel for damage. The bullet had only singed past. But Matthias
took the opportunity to pick her up by the waist, throw her over his shoulder,
and run for the truck. He was wiry but muscular, and she was very light. She
could see blood drops from her cheek tracing a path of red dots in the road
behind them.
Matthias threw her in behind the wheel, then raced for the passenger
side.
“Drive, Miss!” he yelled. “Drive, or we’re all dead.”
More gunfire erupted. Matthias got his door open, then the back of his
head splattered. It looked like a half-melon as his torso sprawled into the
truck. She saw the mess of brains and blood ooze onto the seat. More shots
hit the truck as she heard the Acholi voices coming closer. Now she did drive
off, knowing it would only get Adam killed if she continued fighting. Matthias’
body fell out onto the street. She felt wretched that she’d gotten him killed, but
couldn’t stop to do anything about it. Acid shot up her throat as she was
forced to reach across the gore from Matthias’ head to catch the door and pull
it shut.
She floored the pedal, but the truck responded slowly. If they caught
her, she knew they’d kill her, too. Then they’d dump all three bodies in the
hills. By the time the jackals finished, there wouldn’t even be bones left for
identification. Nothing more would be heard about them.
She shifted into second gear, as more shots struck the truck bed. In her
rear view mirror, she could see that Adam was still alive. He’d been forced to
kneel, now guarded by two Acholis holding rifles.
Maybe they wouldn’t kill him, after all. Maybe he’d told them that he
came from wealth. She’d have to locate his family, let them know the situation.
But it wouldn’t be easy. He’d told her next to nothing about them. It would be
much quicker to call Dad, get him to wire money immediately. Except, she
knew Dad’s legal troubles and the divorce had left him nearly bankrupt.
Genna got the truck into third and started to put some distance on her
attackers. But a loud blam sounded as a bullet burst the left rear tire. The
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 39

truck swerved sharply. She tried to straighten out, but another blast came
from the right rear tire. She screeched sideways, then the truck went up on
two wheels, almost tipping over. It slammed back on four tires, two of them
nothing more than shredded rubber. The truck had stalled and Genna heard
more shots as she tried to get the engine to turn over.
These men were only on foot. It would take them a minute to go back for
their jeep. She could put some distance on them, even driving on two rims.
They kept firing, so Genna kept her head down. She guessed that they were
aiming for the gas tank. But she couldn’t get the engine started, so she
jumped out with the M-16.
She could see three of them running at her. The other two remained
standing over Adam in front of the clinic, their rifle muzzles touching the back
of his head. She fired a burst at her three pursuers. Now that Adam wasn’t
with them, she didn’t have to fire high. But she hit nothing and they kept on
coming. She squeezed the trigger again, but now the clip was out of
ammunition.
She fumbled to attach her spare, but she’d only practiced the procedure
once and it wouldn’t go in. She started running for the warehouse. She didn’t
know if they’d locked the doors again, or if the men inside would hide her.
They must have heard the gunfire, but of course no one had been foolish
enough to come outside. Or maybe they’d known of the kidnapping in
advance. Maybe the doctor also was a captive inside the clinic. Maybe they’d
lied to Adam about casualties from a government strafing.
She tried the door where the boys had carried Adam’s crates. It wouldn’t
open. She ran to the side doorway where Matthias had crouched in the shade.
She saw the mud spots where he’d spat qat juice, but this door was locked,
too. More gunshots slammed into the corrugated tin, so close the noise was
deafening.
Genna raced around the corner, desperate to find help. She didn’t
understand why they wanted to kill her if this was a kidnapping, but she
wanted someone to know about it. Maybe they’d get word to her parents.
She ran among the tukul huts, still seeing no one. Adam had told her
that there were 20,000 people in this camp, but everyone must be inside to
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 40

escape the sun. Midday napping was a wise tradition in this kind of heat. She
was panting hard, she’d dropped the extra clip somewhere without noticing, so
now there wasn’t even a chance of reloading. She’d lost the satellite phone
inside the truck when it had crashed. She dropped the M-16, turned back
toward the clinic, zigzagging through Sabemba’s hard dirt lanes. Maybe she
could see Adam once more before she died.
A strong hand reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. Genna gasped
in fear, but another hand clapped over her mouth before she could scream.
She twisted enough to see a much creased face as an old woman pulled her
into a hut. In the dim light, she saw two younger women and a girl.
The old one immediately wrapped her in a blanket head to foot. Raising
a gnarled finger to her lips, she firmly pushed Genna to the floor. The two
younger women wasted no time piling mats over her, then sat down on top,
along with the girl.
She heard commotion outside within seconds. The Acholi men were
shouting up and down the lanes. She heard their leader demanding in Arabic
for the white woman to come outside. He threatened to burn down all the
tukuls if this foreign she-witch didn’t show herself.
Genna could hear them barge their way into people’s huts. She heard
arguments as they searched. A man was struck as he tried to push the Acholi
from his doorway. It sounded like an axe splitting a log, so close it must be in
the neighboring tukul. Genna heard the man moan and woman screaming,
then more sounds of people being clubbed.
She was afraid that the Acholis would start shooting. She couldn’t stand
to be the cause of any more people dying. She tried to rise, ready to go out and
face them, but the old woman’s daughters pushed her back beneath the mats.
When the Acholis came into the hut where Genna lay, she heard the
crone berate them. Genna didn’t know this dialect, and apparently their leader
didn’t either. So the crone explained to him in halting Arabic that she was a
midwife.
“Men forbidden here. This girl be circumcise. Look away, bad fool. No
see private naked. If stay, go soft all life.”
They left without an argument. Though Genna knew that clitoral
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 41

mutilation still was widely practiced in rural Africa, she certainly hoped this
part of the crone’s story wasn’t true. As she got up, she saw that the girl had
taken off her clothes, but seemed to be unharmed. Certainly, she’d heard no
cries of pain as she lay beneath the mats. Genna placed her blanket around
the girl’s shoulders.
“Thank you for my life,” Genna said to the old woman in Arabic.
“No. We give thanks. You come Sabemba bring food. World forget us.
Not you - you remember.”
After waiting another hour, the old woman peered outside to make sure it
was safe. Satisfied, she led Genna to a better hiding place. Which turned out
to be the cemetery beyond Sabemba’s last row of huts. She made Genna lie
down in a newly dug pit, covered her with a tarp, then left. The dry soil felt
surprisingly cold.
It was terrifying to wait there in the dirt, convinced that every noise
meant imminent discovery. If they found her, she’d be killed. Probably raped
first. And judging from the countless stories she’d heard, all witnesses would
be silenced. Every time Genna managed to stop thinking about this, the
exploded head of poor Matthias returned into her thoughts. She wondered if
he still lay on the road. She hoped that the Acholis had let someone come
wash and wrap his body. She wondered if he lay now in another shallow grave
like hers. And maybe Adam, too.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 42

Though it seemed like half a lifetime, Genna made it until nightfall. She
knew enough about Africa to guess why the Acholis hadn’t searched among the
graves. Like many tribes, they’d fear her buried neighbors. After lying here all
day, accompanied by a scorpion that sought the coolness of this hole, she
couldn’t fault their superstition. Some of those noises had sounded more like
spirits than the steps of men.
And then, soft footsteps came very close, stopping right beside her hiding
place. When someone peeled back her tarp, Genna nearly screamed. But she
managed to hold it in, seeing that this was a boy. He didn’t speak, but simply
put a finger to his lips. Then he reached down to help her rise.
In the moonlight, Genna recognized his face. He’d been among the
Dinkas unloading Adam’s lentils. He must be related to the old midwife. Or
under her protection, anyway. Genna knew that many of these refugees had
walked for weeks to reach asylum. In her own camp, half the minors were
unaccompanied. Their fathers were usually dead, and if their mothers were
alive, they’d wound up somewhere else. These children were so starved for
human contact, they flocked around her constantly. They loved it when she’d
join their games, though she rarely grasped the rules.
The boy pantomimed that he’d come to lead her into the bush. As they
crept across the camp, Genna made him understand that she needed to stop at
the truck. It still stood by the roadside with two shredded tires. The keys were
gone, but she found her satphone under the seat. She didn’t bother searching
for the spare ammunition clip -- the Acholis would have her M-16 by now.
They heard the noise of men shouting. It was faint, from the direction of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 43

the cemetery, but Genna thought that it was the Acholis. They must be
searching the camp still. Though her stiff limbs seemed to shriek with pain,
she ran with the boy across the plain. The moonlight kept her from running
into shrubs and the occasional acacia.
When they reached the hillside, Genna stopped and doubled over,
laboring for breath. It was cooler now, but both her legs were cramping. She’d
drunk nothing since breakfast. The boy grabbed her hand, made her stand,
pointed back at the camp. They could see the beams of flashlights, coming up
Sabemba’s nearest lane. Genna heard more shouting, though she couldn’t
make out the words. Now she was sure that the Acholis continued to search
for her. They wouldn’t quit until they were sure she was no longer a threat.
Following the boy, Genna ran into the forest’s thick foliage. At the edge,
the bright moon made it light enough to see an abundant growth of orchids --
this place was almost tropical. She wished she’d paid more attention to
Adam’s maps. Her escape depended on traveling in the right direction.
She knew that Sudan was a huge country, the largest in Africa. It had
vast arid regions through the north, dry hills in the west, savannah covering
much of the east, but here in the south, the terrain could rise sharply to cloud
forests. Tropical birds screeched from every tree, disturbed as she and the boy
crashed by. Thorny tendrils tore at her face, lianas reached out to send her
sprawling.
She was heavily scratched and covered in mud by the time they reached
a small cleft in the hillside. She caught her breath, then murmured in Arabic
in the boy, thanking him for saving her. He didn’t understand, so she simply
touched his arm.
Wet and hungry, they spent the night crouched in the cleft. She hoped
the Acholis couldn’t track her in the moonlight. If they survived, it would be
necessary to leave at daybreak. This would be their only chance, to run as far
and fast as possible. The way they’d fled up the hillside, their trail would be
distinct.
Now, surrounded by the noises of nocturnal predators, it was almost as
nerve-shredding as the long hours she’d spent lying in the grave. Genna told
herself that it was only mice and shrews, but she felt convinced large creatures
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 44

lurked about. She was unarmed, giving off a blood scent from her lacerated
cheek. Even to her feeble human nose, it smelled like wounded prey. The
humid air would carry her scent for miles.
She’d heard stories of swamp lions in the Sudd, that immense
marshland surrounding the Blue Nile. She wondered if they ever wondered
south into these hills. Huddled with the boy, she fell into a fitful sleep,
dreaming that she’d built a fire. Her back was to it as glowing yellow eyes crept
closer.
But Genna had an ever greater problem. Soaked as she was on the
outside, she was so parched internally, she couldn’t sleep for long. Now,
beneath a near full moon, the sleeping boy looked formless, his outline
wavering. She tried to blink her blurry vision into focus. It didn’t work.
Turning her back away in case the boy awoke, Genna removed her shirt, held it
over her open mouth, and wrung it out. But she only produced half a
mouthful of sweat-laced liquid. A terrible thirst was making her sick with
nausea.
Desperate for water, she ventured from the cleft, searching for a creek.
She didn’t find one, so Genna resorted to licking dew from leaves. She had to
hope that none were poisonous… As she reached to strip another handful,
she heard crashing steps come through the forest.
It couldn’t be a lion, could it? What else did they have here? On the
drive this morning, she’d seen no predator larger than a raptor. No leopards,
no hyenas, jackals, or wild dogs. But it was something large, crashing straight
in her direction.
It must be the Acholis. They must have turned off their flashlights. She
guessed this meant a refugee had snatched up her M-16 as soon as she’d
dropped it. The Acholis must think she still was armed. But she didn’t even
have a knife, and they came stomping up the hill to kill her. They knew exactly
where she was.
As she ran back to the cleft, Genna’s arms and legs and face were cut
repeatedly by thorns. She ran into the boy, yelling about the Acholis, but he
clapped a hand over her mouth. When she made the shh signal and nodded to
agree they must stay quiet, he removed his hand. Then he pantomimed two
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 45

massive, curving horns over his head.

Genna still felt dizzy. In her panic, she pulled at the boy’s arm to make
him run. But when he repeated the pantomime while snorting, she understood
he meant it was a buffalo that came their way. She’d seen these while they’d
driven here, along with rhino, elephants, giraffe, and herds of wildebeest.
South Sudan had almost as much wildlife as less war-torn parts of East Africa.
They stood still as they watched the buffalo crash past. Though his
noise soon faded, Genna couldn’t get back to sleep. Something must have
spooked the buffalo. Why else would it run up the hillside in the dark. She felt
convinced that danger was close by. Either the Acholi men, or some large
carnivore.
Thinking that she’d die soon, Genna was visited again by scenes of
childhood. Droopy the basset who she’d sneak into her bed after Mom went
back downstairs. Dad had given her Droopy for a birthday present when she’d
turned five. Other pets, whose names returned like prayers, hamsters and
gerbils and guinea pigs. Mom drew the line at a white rat with bright red eyes
and adorable whiskers she’d named Twitchy. Mom had thrown such a fit
about that one. She swore she’d leave Dad if he didn’t remove it from the
house immediately. Genna remembered Mom’s exact words had been, “… get
that filthy vermin out of my house.”
But that was Mom all over. This overly large, overly decorated house was
everything she’d worked for. Mom grew up very comfortably, herself, but the
thing that mattered most to her was moving higher. If she could have only
made Dad use his friendship with Uncle Brad to rise high in the State
Department, she could have had an even grander house.
Dad hadn’t even argued about Twitchy. He’d simply built a habitat in
the back yard, a paradise for rodents. When Twitchy got sick one time after too
many table scraps from Christmas dinner, Dad had whisked him to the vet. A
$200 bill later, which Mom said proved he was a fool, and never failed to
mention in their arguments for years, Dad bought Twitchy three pals to keep
him company.
And this was Dad all over. Loyal to a fault. To Genna and to all her
pets. To Mom, as well. If he minded her pretension and her narrow view of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 46

life, Dad never let on for a second. Probably, he still felt like the luckiest man
in the world that such a beautiful woman had married him.
What Mom felt about Dad, Genna could only guess. The initial attraction
must have been the VI that followed Dad’s full name. Finally, someone whose
family’s prominence went back as many generations as her own. Mom was all
about appearances, so she’d never let on to a friend or relative that the
marriage was anything but perfect. She must have loved him at one time. She
certainly could have married anyone. Dad’s loyalty and perseverance must
have gotten to her, too. She needed to feel like the center of all worlds. The
way Dad loved her, Mom must have known that she was guaranteed a
worshipper for life.
And what about Adam? Genna prayed he’d be all right and that they’d
have a life together. But if they both survived, would their relationship? Did
Adam have loyalty in him? Would he prove more like Richard or like Dad? She
really knew so little about him.
Genna heard another thump out in the darkness. Shivering, she phoned
Mary McGahan, her boss at the Wallaba camp. Not that there was any help for
200 kilometers, but at least someone would know what had happened. If she
died, at least Mary would get word to Mom and Dad. And assuming Adam was
alive, Mary could get the ball rolling on the ransom.
Mary answered her phone on the eighth ring. Out of breath as usual,
scurrying between a thousand urgent jobs. A Carmelite nun from Cork, Mary
had an enduring streak of fatalism. Her staff joked that she was a vampire,
since no one had ever seen her sleep at night. She didn’t react with the least
shock to Genna’s news, but promised that she’d do the necessary things.
“Stay strong -- God’s will be done,” she said before the connection broke
up.
The sound of gunfire woke Genna before daybreak. It was very dark now
that the moon had set. She could barely see the boy’s dim figure, though he
was standing right beside her. He touched her arm and pointed down the
slope. She heard more shots, but didn’t see their muzzle flashes. They
sounded like the cracks of thunder as they echoed off the hillside. She wanted
to run, but the boy held her arm.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 47

He pointed again, and said, “Sabemba.”

Was this possible? The camp must be half a kilometer away. The shots
sounded close enough to hit them. But the boy repeated, “Sabemba.” The
gunfire must mean that the Acholis had run out of huts to search. It filled
Genna with despair to picture them forcing the refugees to reveal what they
knew. God, she hoped they hadn’t discovered the midwife’s part in this.
Those shots may have been them killing her and her two daughters, maybe
even the little girl. Genna felt so guilty, she’d never be able to enjoy life again…
In the first pale light of false dawn, the boy led Genna over the hillside.
They found a rivulet where they drank good, cool water, then the boy found a
boscia tree in fruit. Though she had no appetite, Genna forced herself to eat.
She felt like a murderer, like her cowardice had doomed those good people.
Even if she’d felt fine and hungry, the taste of these pods was like
something left in the fruit bowl for weeks after it spoiled. No wonder boscia
had never become one of the popular flavors. But she knew the fruit would
restore her energy. Refugees had told her they’d eaten boscia pods as famine
food during their treks. She had to stay alive long enough to learn if Adam had
survived. And if he had, to do whatever it took to rescue him.
She followed the boy for miles until they reached a road. It was painful
going, because one of the scratches on her leg had festered. The skin around it
was very red and swollen. After limping for hours, Genna saw the dust cloud
of a vehicle approaching. As it got larger, she saw it was a truck. She started
waving to it, but the boy grabbed her around the stomach and dragged her into
the forest. Again, he held his hand over her mouth. After the truck passed, he
made a gesture indicating they were soldiers. Genna understood. Here in the
chaotic political situation of South Sudan, one couldn’t trust any military
group. Most were just as brutal as the jinjaweed and Khartoum’s army.
But as Genna and the boy stepped back on the road, they had to
suddenly retreat. Maybe fifty meters down, the truck had stopped. Through
the dust, the soldiers must have seen Genna waving after all. Now, they piled
out, six men in mottled green uniforms.
Genna and the boy stood very still, only a few steps into the trees. They
couldn’t creep in further -- the foliage would sway and it was a windless day.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 48

Genna got out her phone, thinking she should at least text a goodbye to her
parents. She hoped she had time before the soldiers found them. She
expected to be raped and killed, before they robbed the few remaining
possessions from her corpse.
The boy gripped her wrist, then pointed. Up the road, Genna could see
four of the six soldiers urinating. Bright yellow streams arced in the sunlight.
The men were laughing, aiming at something. Through the trees, Genna could
see it was a large tortoise.
After the soldiers got back in the truck and left, it took Genna and the
boy another hour until they reached a farm. A gaunt man wearing a much
patched galabiyah came from his field of doura grain to greet them. With the
small amount of money Genna had in her pocket, she was able to convince him
to give her a ride to Bor on his donkey. The boy simply nodded at Genna,
turned, and began walking back to Sabemba. He didn’t seem particularly
worried about what he’d find there. But then again, most refugees had seen so
much death and suffering, they didn’t let their horror show.
Seeing her swollen leg, the farmer called his wife out. She applied a
cooling salve. She used a different salve for the scratches on Genna’s face.
She must have seen such wounds before and knew exactly which types of
thorns were responsible. The pain diminished rapidly as the farmer’s wife went
back inside.
A minute later, she returned carrying a wooden bowl full of thick stew.
She urged Genna to sit down in the shade and eat. She gave Genna a colorful
shawl to cover her ripped clothing. Genna’s scarf had long since disappeared,
so she draped the shawl from head to knees.
The woman’s kindness overwhelmed Genna. Tears flooded down her
cheeks. These people obviously had little to spare, but like so many Africans,
their generosity to strangers was profound. Then again, anywhere in Africa,
strangers could easily be slaughtered. Ancient hatreds abounded, like the
Hutus and Tutsis of Rwanda, or the Fur and Baggara of Sudan.
When Genna had recovered her composure and eaten the delicious stew,
she got out her satphone. While the farmer unhitched his donkey from a plow,
Genna called the American embassy in Addis Ababa. After she finally got
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 49

connected with one of the attachés, she reported Adam’s kidnap.

Or maybe it was murder. She still didn’t know if Adam was alive or
dead. Or what the gunfire at Sabemba in the early morning meant. They
hadn’t hesitated to shoot Matthias. She didn’t even know the man’s full name,
but she described the brutal way he’d died.
The attaché mentioned that he’d once worked with Dad. He promised to
relay Genna’s information about Matthias to the South Sudanese government
in Juba.
Maybe the attaché would actually call Juba, but Genna knew it would go
no farther. Who’d care about one dead Fur, when so many were already dead?
With all his family slain, Genna would be the only one to grieve for a man she’d
barely known.
As for Adam, the attaché said there was little he could do from Ethiopia.
He gave her a contact name at the American embassy in Khartoum. When
Genna called, a woman told her that the U.S. had little influence with the
government. The embassy would be unable to send a team into South Sudan
to investigate. With hostilities broken out again, the small American presence
in Juba had been evacuated.
Genna called her boss Mary McGahan again to say that she’d escaped
from the Acholis.
“You didn’t call my parents, did you?” she asked.
“Not yet. Should I have done?”
“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t want them needlessly upset. They’ll
both freak if they hear what happened. They’ll insist that I leave Africa. But
I’ve got to rescue Adam.”
“Are you leaving after that, dear?”
“No, of course not. I love what we’re doing here.”
“Good. Let me know. Whatever I can do.”
“Right now, I need a number for Dr. Adad. He’s the camp director at
Sabemba.”
“I’ve heard of him, but I don’t have it. I’ll make some calls to find out.”
After saying goodbye, Genna tried a friend who still worked at her first
camp. She remembered Adam saying that Dr. Adad once worked for Médecins
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 50

Sans Frontières in Chad. Unfortunately, no one at the Ethiopian camp knew

Dr. Adad. She got the number for the Médecins Sans Frontières office in
Asmara, but they wouldn’t release information about Dr. Adad without a
written request. At least that’s what Genna gathered, between her limited
French and the man’s poor English. She even tried Adam’s number, clinging to
a hope that he’d escaped. If not, maybe one of the kidnappers would answer.
But Adam’s phone just rang, so she waited for voice mail, then left her
contact information. She hoped the Acholis' leader would call back to demand
ransom. She prayed that Adam wasn’t dead already.
No calls came during the six hours it took to reach Bor. The whole time,
Genna kept the shawl draped over her head. She angled her face down, and
covered her hands, so no one could see that the farmer led a white woman.
She had to assume the Acholis still were searching for her.
At Bor, she gave the farmer double the amount she’d promised. She
hoped that it would help him and his wife. She called Mary again, who
arranged for her to ride with a missionary into Juba. South Sudan’s capital
was the southernmost point of traffic on the Nile. It once had highways leading
to Uganda, Kenya, and the Congo, but the war had made them impassable.
The recent fighting had ended the work to remove mines, repair bomb craters,
and rebuild bridges. Juba’s harbor also was destroyed, but a daily flight to
Ethiopia had been established at the airport. Genna still had her passport and
credit cards inside her wallet. With luck, they hadn’t reverted to a cash-only
economy in Juba.
After following the city’s one paved road, Mary’s missionary friend
dropped Genna at the airport. It was late, but she was in luck, because the
flight to Addis Ababa had been delayed. Using her MasterCard, Genna was
able to buy a ticket. She was told to proceed directly to the tarmac, where the
flight had begun to board.
Typical for Africa, she thought. Things that were routine anywhere else
could take weeks and months. Meanwhile, the worst possible nightmares
unfolded with a regularity that became almost expected. But when something
positive finally happened, it happened fast. No one checked her passport
against a stop list. No one questioned if anyone else had handled her luggage,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 51

not that she had any. No one questioned her about this, either. There were no
security barriers with snaking lines to get through.
How nice for South Sudan, she thought. Must be no worries about
terrorists here.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 52

Genna made more calls as she flew. She knew that Adam had grown up
in a suburb of Huntsville, Alabama. If he’d mentioned which town it was or
what his parents’ first names were, she couldn’t remember. He’d said very
little about them. She had the impression that he idolized his father. She
could picture a far-off glow to Adam’s face when he’d mentioned his dad had
taught him how to shoot.
Unfortunately, there’d been no other anecdotes to offer clues about who
his father was. She’d assumed that Adam would tell her all about his parents
in his own time. Now, she could only hope that Adam was alive, and that he’d
introduce his folks some day… She drank a second cup of coffee, trying to
make her brain work better. Easier said than done after such a terrifying, sad,
exhausting day.
Adam’s last name was Lindsey. After getting connected to a live
operator for Southern Bell, she asked for a Mr. Lindsey in the Huntsville area.
She was given seven listings, tried them all, but none of the numbers belonged
to Adam’s parents. Then something Adam told her that first day came back.
When she’d asked about his accent, Adam said his parents came from Georgia.
She’d thought he meant the state, of course. His cadence and his drawl
were richly southern. But it turned out that his mom and dad were
immigrants from the republic of Georgia back in the old Soviet Union days.
Lindsey was an Americanized version of a long name that ended –adze, but she
couldn’t remember what. Adam was born in Alabama, about as American in
personality as you could get, but maybe his parents still used their original
surname.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 53

One way or another, she’d have to find them, tell them what had
happened. Adam was alive when she’d last seen him. She wouldn’t mention
her own fears that he’d been executed. That wouldn’t do his mom and dad a
bit of good. She’d simply ask them to put some funds together, so she could
ransom Adam quickly when the kidnappers contacted her.
But what if his phone’s lost or broken? What if they don’t get my
message…? No, it doesn’t matter. Adam will just tell the kidnappers my
number.
Even if the call never came, or Adam’s parents had no money, they’d
need to know what happened. She tried a call to Duke University, Adam’s
alma mater. Counting backwards silently, she’d confirmed that it was daytime
in the U.S.A. After a few transfers, Genna reached Alumni Affairs. A man who
came onto the line wouldn’t release contact information, even when Genna told
him what had happened. She got the feeling that the man didn’t believe her
about an alumnus named Adam Lindsey being kidnapped in Sudan.
Genna couldn’t think where else to call. She had no last names for
Adam’s college friends, just stories that included people named Jake and
Denny, and a previous girlfriend named Liz. As the plane began to descend,
Genna leaned back and closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. There didn’t
seem to be much else she could do. Maybe call Dad, ask him to work old
friends at State. None of her own contacts had enough clearance to do this,
but Dad knew people who could pull Adam’s passport records to get his home
address.
No, she didn’t want to call Dad yet. He’d probe until he got the whole
story. When he heard she’d nearly died, he wouldn’t stop until he brought her
home. Dad was in no state for added crisis. She wanted to fix this on her own.
She’d find the Lindseys, tell them she’d seen Adam injured, leave out the part
that he might be dead. She’d just have to go on faith that he was still alive. If
the Lindseys had no money, maybe the almost $6,000 she’d saved would be
enough. If not, she’d do whatever it took to worm some funds out of the U.N.
When Genna reached Addis Ababa, it was late, but the night porter
Tadasse at the UNHCR office knew her. She’d helped him write the application
to get a wheelchair for his daughter. After Tadasse let her in, Genna lay down
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 54

on a cot in the back room.

She was exhausted but couldn’t fall asleep. Then she remembered what
Adam had told her about his parents now. When he’d mentioned they were
Georgian, he said that they came here as Edouard and Ruslana Lidvaradze.
She did a search for these names, still came up with nothing. By now, Genna
felt completely drained. This was no good -- she’d resume first thing in the
morning. She had many friends scattered among the relief agencies. If she
couldn’t find the Lindseys, and her own savings weren’t enough for Adam’s
ransom, someone would find a way to help.
Lying down again, she fell asleep at once. Ten minutes later, Mary
McGahan called back with Dr. Adad’s number. It was almost midnight, but
Genna tried immediately. She reached Adad and told him who she was. He
already knew from the boy how she’d escaped.
“Adam is he-?” Genna couldn’t get the word “dead” past her lips.
“No. He’s hurt, but the Acholis let me patch him. They had to stay here
at Sabemba for me to treat their leader. You shot him in the private parts, you
know. They were very angry at you.”
“Oh. I didn’t think I hit anything… What about Adam’s injuries? Are
they bad?”
“Two cracked ribs, and a severe laceration to his forehead, but he’ll live.”
“Thank God. What about the midwife and her family? We heard more
gunfire.”
“They’re fine, all praise to Allah. The shooting wasn’t about them.”
Genna felt a heady flush of relief. She reminded herself to send the
midwife a generous reward for all her help. The boy hadn’t even taken the
smallest payment before he’d left.
“What was it then? Was anybody shot?”
“None of the refugees were hurt.”
“What do the Acholis want? Did they say anything about a ransom?”
“No. I don’t think it was a kidnapping. These men, they have a feud
with Adam’s friends.”
“Who? The Zaghawas who were supposed to guide him to Darfur?”
“Yes. But their main business is drugs. The Acholis who took Adam,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 55

they’re ex-soldiers from the LRA.”

“The Lord’s Resistance Army?” Genna asked in a tone of disbelief.
“Matthias told me these men are thieves and kidnappers.”
“I’ve heard that, too, but they also practice a strange cult. Most Acholis
are Christian, both in Uganda and Sudan. But this cult blends elements from
Islam. They hate alcohol, gambling, fornication, everything the Koran bans.”
“What does that have to do with Adam? He came to bring relief
supplies.”
“He’s American. They consider all of you our enemies. I think they
meant to take Adam to their headman.”
“What do you mean ‘meant.’ Has their plan changed?”
“Their plan resides entirely with Allah now.”
“They’re dead?”
“Yes. The Zaghawas arrived early this morning, stormed into the clinic,
shot the Acholis who’d arrested Adam. Including the one who was on my
operating table.”
“And Adam? What will the Zaghawas do with him? He can’t go with
them to Darfur now, if he’s that badly hurt.”
“They’ve left already, but they aren’t going to Darfur.”
“Why, where are they taking him?”
“I don’t know, but I heard one saying they must leave right away, or they
wouldn’t be in time for the North Star. They didn’t realize that I’ve worked in a
camp across Chad’s border and speak Zaghawa.”
“What did they mean about the North Star? Darfur’s to the west. Are
they going north, taking him to Khartoum?”
“I’d guess they weren’t speaking of navigating by the stars. The North
Star isn’t even visible from here this time of year. I think it must be the name
of a ship. If I were you, I’d check the port in Massawa. Or maybe you’ll find
them in Mombasa, inshallah.”
Genna thanked the doctor. After ending the call, she ran searches for a
ship called the North Star. She found dozens. And these were only the ones
whose names were in the English language. Apparently, ship names weren’t
like race horses, with an international registry preventing multiple versions.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 56

She soon discovered that more than half these vessels were pleasure
boats. They could probably be eliminated. Others were inland ferries or
fishing boats. But why would Adam’s guides be heading for a ship? Maybe
they weren’t guides, but captors. Maybe the fight between them and the
Acholis was over who would get the ransom.
Genna searched for shipping schedules in Massawa and Mombasa. She
found lists of arrivals and departures for both ports, but no ships called the
North Star. Or anything remotely similar. She wrote down phone numbers for
the harbormasters, tried both without reaching anyone, left messages about
the urgent need to find this ship. She couldn’t think of anything else that she
could do tonight. She’d call back in the morning.
She washed herself, managed a few hours sleep, then resumed searching
for the Lindseys. Though she tried for more than two hours, she had no luck.
Until the Massawa harbormaster called back.
In Arabic, he told Genna that no ship called the North Star had ever used
his port. However, he knew of a freighter out of Singapore that plied a regular
route to Djibouti. He’d checked and it was due to sail today. It’s name was
the Polaris.
It must be this ship that Dr. Adad had overheard the Zaghawa
tribesman mentioning. Genna doubted that their language had separate words
for North Star and Polaris. Adad had simply chosen to translate with the more
common name. If she left immediately, she could beat them to Djibouti.
Whether Adam was with the Zaghawas voluntarily or not, she had to find him.
Now, she wouldn’t dodge the chance to tell him that she loved him.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 57

Genna didn’t take the time to check flight schedules. She went outside
immediately and waved down a jitney. If there wasn’t a flight soon, she’d
arrange a charter. Morning traffic was dense as the jitney slogged its way
across Addis Ababa, but her luck held. When they reached the airport, Genna
learned that the next flight to Djibouti would leave in half an hour. She paid
with her MasterCard again, then walked quickly up the concourse.
The airport was hot and not particularly well maintained. Wires dangled
from broken ceiling panels. The dusty floors had crumbled tiles. The schedule
boards worked intermittently. On the plus side, it wasn’t jammed with people,
and you could get cheap meals from vendors who sat cross-legged on rush
matting. The aromas of injera, doro wat, and miser alech were wonderfully
inviting. Genna felt starved, but had to hurry past them. She got through the
security gate with little delay, and made her flight with ten minutes to spare.
It was only half an hour in the air to Djibouti, but there was turbulence
so fierce that luggage came flying out of the overhead compartments. The
stewardesses and those who’d unfastened their seatbelts were bounced so high
that some bashed their heads. Fortunately, no one was badly hurt. The pilot
announced it was a sudden storm coming off the Gulf of Aden.
They landed in a driving rain at Ambouli International Airport. Genna
was the eighth passenger off the flight. As soon as she reached the corridor
leading to Immigration, she hurried past the others. Djibouti’s airport was
modern and very clean. First in line, with nothing to declare, this shouldn’t
take a minute.
A bad miscalculation. The customs officer scowled when he saw Genna’s
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 58

passport. Apparently, Americans weren’t among his favorite nationalities. He

checked every page of Genna’s passport, carefully recording the visa markings
in a notebook. He questioned the lack of an entry stamp for her travel into
South Sudan.
Genna explained how she’d helped deliver emergency supplies,
necessitating an overland trip. The new South Sudan government had border
posts, but no customs officers were present at the one they’d passed. Of
course, Djibouti probably knew this in the first place. Going by the book, she
was required to report her presence in South Sudan within forty-eight hours,
but there’d been no time in Juba. The customs officer merely scribbled in his
notebook again.
Genna chafed, but resisted the urge to look at her watch. He questioned
her in French about the purpose of her trip. Unsatisfied with Genna’s fluency,
he asked if she spoke Arabic. Genna answered that she did, but he bridled at
her accent. The questions grew more personal. Then he demanded additional
identification. Genna handed him her UNHCR card, but this made him scowl
even deeper. He must have something against relief workers, too. He looked
back and forth between the UNHCR card and her passport. Then he stared at
Genna. Unfortunately, her hair was long in both photos and now it was
cropped short. Unsatisfied, he turned to his computer.
While she waited, Genna sneaked a glance at her watch. She’d been
standing here fifteen minutes already. She looked to her right and left. All of
the passengers she’d passed along the corridor were gone. The people behind
her were making noises of irritation. After another minute, they shuffled to the
other lines. There, they went through quickly, too. Maybe it was because
she’d been the only westerner aboard this flight. Genna closely watched the
next passenger in the line to her left. When she saw some banknotes folded
into the man’s passport, she understood. This was a matter of baksheesh.
Founded as a seaport in the 1800s, Djibouti had only recently been
granted independence from France. Despite being one of the world’s newest
countries, the ways of petty officialdom were quickly learned. Like minor
bureaucrats across the world, Djibouti customs officers knew how to
supplement their incomes.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 59

The problem was, Genna had given most of her cash to the farmer. It
wasn’t like she could bribe this officer with a credit card. She had no luggage,
nothing of value she could give him. Except for her satphone, and she’d need
that. She wore no jewelry, hadn’t worn anything since the Claddagh ring that
Richard gave her last Christmas. She didn’t know what happened to it after
she’d flung it at his face.
And now another seven minutes had gone by… No wait, she did have
something she could offer. But Mom had given her this watch for high school
graduation. It was a very fine Bulova she’d used ever since. Every time she
glanced at it, she’d remember that rare moment of peace between them. She
could just see Mom’s eyes go straight to her empty wrist the first time they
were reunited.
Reluctantly, Genna unstrapped the watch, set it on the counter, and
pushed it toward the officer. His glowering expression unchanged, he held it
up, looked closely at its diamond chips, listened to its almost silent ticking,
watched the sweep of its second hand… Without a word, he handed back
her documents and waved her through.
She hurried down the airport’s corridor, stopping only to get some money
from an automated teller, then went outside where lines of jitneys and private
taxis waited. She chose one of the newer taxis, asked the driver to take her to
the port.
The rain had stopped and traffic was reasonably light as they drove
through the city of half a million. The problem was, her driver seemed to think
it was a tour. He wound through both the African and European quarters of
Djibouti, past the National Stadium, the Central Market, the Presidential
Palace, and the Hamouli Mosque, though Genna repeatedly urged him to
hurry. But he spoke no English, and didn’t seem to understand her French.
She’d heard it said that the people of Djibouti came originally from a
nomadic tribe. They had little tradition of living in an urban setting, much
preferring to wander about with little regard for time. Finally, they passed a
vast white beach lapped by the Gulf’s vivid blue water, then came to the port
complex.
It was a modern facility with a great deal of activity. Genna saw massive
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 60

cranes unloading container ships, as well as a harbor with berths for many
smaller vessels. In French, the driver asked where she wanted to get off.
“I’m looking for a ship called the Polaris,” she said, but when he only
looked confused, she repeated herself in Arabic.
This seemed to work. The driver rubbed his chin, a thoughtful
expression on his face as he turned around to face her. Genna tried to keep
from showing consternation, because he continued to drive quickly past the
wharves.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen it?” she asked.
“No, but my brother Menes is a longshoreman here. For a little extra, I’ll
take you to him. I’m sure he’ll know.”
“Yes, please find your brother and ask. I think this ship sails today.”
They found Menes shortly, but not the Polaris. It had left an hour
earlier. Despite her disappointment, Genna tipped the driver well, then tipped
Menes, too. She knew that dockworkers depended on baksheesh to pad out
their small salaries, like so many people in East Africa. Their families would go
hungry without the added income.
She dug out Adam’s picture from her wallet. In front of Duke’s bell
tower, it showed him standing between the two fraternity brothers he’d
identified as Jake and Denny. Adam was at least six inches taller than either
of his friends. He’d pinned both their heads under his arms in a Larry, Moe,
and Curly pose. All three were grinning broadly. He’d given it to Genna in
exchange for one he’d begged from her. She’d learned later that it was the only
photo of himself that Adam had.
“The tall one in the middle with the light, wavy hair?” she asked. Menes
didn’t speak Arabic, so his brother had to translate to Amheric. “Have you
seen him today? He would have been in the company of several short,
muscular Sudanese.”
“No, I’m sorry, Miss, I have not seen them. But my shift only began two
hours ago. Maybe they were already aboard the Polaris.”
“Maybe. Is there a ticket office where I could ask?”
“Oh, the Polaris doesn’t accept passengers. Some freighters do, but not
this one. If someone other than the crew wants to travel on it, this happens
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 61

unofficially.”
Menes rubbed his fingers together. Much baksheesh would be paid, he
meant. Many goods came and left through Djibouti. Many times, bribes
avoided difficulties. The same held true with passengers.
“Is there someone else I could ask? Someone who worked loading the
Polaris?”
“I know a man,” said Menes. Again he rubbed his fingers. “My friend
has many children.”
Half an hour later, Genna confirmed that Adam had left on the Polaris
along with two of the Zaghawas. The ship was carrying a load of coffee to
Penang, scheduled to arrive in four days.
It elated Genna to learn that Adam was alive. But it was also very
worrisome. Why would Sudanese hostage takers want to spirit him into
Malaysia? Or if they really were his friends, why would Adam plan a trip into
Darfur, then go to Penang? Yes, there were still a few refugee camps in
Southeast Asia, but they had nothing to do with the story he was writing.
And why the big mystery? Why hadn’t he told her what he planned? It
made no sense, unless they’d forced him. Adam was badly injured. And yet,
the dockworker who’d seen them board said Adam looked like he was great
friends with the two Zaghawas. Sort of like the photograph with Jake and
Denny. Standing between the two short Sudanese, their arms around his
back. All three men laughing at something Adam said as they went up the
gangplank.
Everything seemed wrong about this. She’d have to follow. It would be
easy to fly to Singapore, then make a connection to Penang. Genna reserved a
ticket for the first available flight. She felt lucky to get one for tomorrow
afternoon. Now, she’d arrive well before the Polaris. She had to make sure
Adam was all right. Besides, he had a right to know.
As she gazed out at the ferry arriving from Tadjoura, Genna understood
it was a decision she’d intended all along. She was going to have this baby.
Adam, if he wanted, would be there to raise it with her. She knew he’d make a
wonderful father. She loved him so much, it made her dizzy. Or maybe this
was just the day’s heat and her empty stomach.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 62

On a breezy morning in Manhattan, Zack turned the corner from Liberty

Street onto Broadway. He was on foot, carrying a thick folder bound with
rubber bands. It contained printed pages marked with a few corrections,
working from the galley copy of his Russia for Imbeciles book. He could have
gone over the final changes with his editor by e-mail, but he liked New York.
And he had nothing but time these days.
Not so different from before, Zack had to admit. His work had often been
a matter of rigid patience. A successful spy learns early to embrace the
waiting. His lifelong problem wasn’t discipline, but willingness to harm.
All right, not strictly true. In the first place, Zack would never call
himself a spy. While he’d accepted CIA assignments regularly, his career at
State was far more than a cover. Besides, it was unfair, unduly pessimistic to
call anything a lifelong problem.
He had no complaints about his early years. Other than the taunts his
name produced. The full thing on his birth certificate read Zachariah Aloysius
Bowen VI. Aside from this, he’d been blessed with loving parents, devoted
friends, and very comfortable circumstances in Darien, Connecticut. There
was that one wrenching day when he’d been fourteen, of course, but otherwise,
life had gone great all the way through Princeton and Zack’s first three postings
with State. It was on the fourth that trouble started.
When a man who loves his country is asked to do a service, told that it’s
essential to our national security, he does not refuse. Especially when he’s
young and idealistic. They knew just how to stroke his ego without seeming to
do so. They claimed his mastery of Slavic languages, his intelligence and
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 63

integrity made him ideal for the job.

That day at a trade fair in Kiev, he’d met his contact, collected the
information, passed it along. As simple as that. It had been nothing, really.
But Langley must have been pleased with this small, routine success, because
many such jobs were sent Zack’s way. Over the years, they became
progressively more delicate and dangerous. Hal Clark, who’d recruited him
and been his first case officer, said it was almost certain the KGB had never
identified Zack as a spy.
Soviet counter-intelligence would know he’d passed the Foreign Service
entrance exam a week after graduating from Princeton. A three week
orientation had followed, then postings in Budapest, Warsaw, and Prague. As
a matter of policy, the KGB carefully vetted all U.S. personnel assigned to
Moscow. They would have realized that there’d been no time for Zachariah
Bowen to receive training at the Farm. Normally, recruits to the CIA’s
Clandestine Service received eighteen months of rigorous instruction in
surveillance, weapons and unarmed combat, resistance to interrogation, trade
craft, signals, reports, recruitment and maintenance of agents, and physical
conditioning. Then another half year at an intensive language course.
But he’d learned none of this until much later. That first year in
Moscow, First Directorate shadows could see his duties as a trade specialist
kept Zack very busy on legitimate work. He didn’t even look like he could be a
spy. For a job where blending in is crucial, no one would pick such a man. He
was too tall, his face too memorable. That Bowen chin that jutted out a mile.
Those eyes so deep and penetrating, the color of granite. That shock of straw
blond hair.
At receptions, this bookish scarecrow never discussed politics. He’d
always gravitate toward those who shared his enthusiasm for central European
history. By the time of his promotion to attaché, Zack was probably the only
staffer that the KGB didn’t suspect of spying.
In fact, they were right. The last label Zack would put on himself was
spy. He was a scholar and a diplomat. He believed that there was good in
every culture. He relished the friendships that he’d made among the Czechs,
Hungarians, Poles, and Russians.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 64

Many evenings, he’d sat in someone’s kitchen, eating the snacks that
Russians call zakuski, telling jokes about nuns and shrinks and lawyers,
listening to the darker Russian humor, drinking ice cold vodka. He
remembered Grigori Artsev serving his guests a kind of vodka steeped with
buffalo grass. It was an odd flavor that came back to Zack now. Like
something from his great-grandmother’s kitchen that he never could quite
place. He’d thought the taste was foul at first. Of course he’d never say this to
his host. In time, he came to relish it. He’d love to find a liquor store in the
U.S. that carried buffalo grass vodka. Maybe if he phoned Artsev, his old friend
could send a bottle. He’d like to know if anything more had been discovered
about Lubov’s murder. The vodka would be a good excuse to call.
When he’d known Artsev in Moscow, they’d talk about almost anything –
religion, sex, books, sports, science, culture -- but never subjects that might
appear remotely sensitive to anyone listening through earphones. Not just at
Artsev’s – this careful self-editing was standard behavior throughout his circle
of Russian friends.
He’d learned this lesson very quickly. Unlike many others with CIA
affiliations, he’d never crossed the line. He grew to be a much appreciated
guest among his counterparts. The most anyone could say against Zack
Bowen was that he had a naive optimism about the world. He couldn’t be
shaken from his firm belief that it would soon become a peaceful place. He’d
insist that it was simply a matter of learning to trust and understand each
other.
Eventually, the Iron Curtain parted, then dissolved. Zack remained in
Moscow, still trusted by the Russians. Three promotions and a decade later,
he led the US effort to aid Armenia after its devastating earthquake. He
received widespread praise for this work. The next year, Zack was appointed to
run State’s part in the Cooperative Threat Reduction program. A bit outside
Zack’s patch, but success here led to another redevelopment job, this time in
Afghanistan.
It was a task Zack thoroughly enjoyed. He poured his heart and energy
into this work. Though progress in Afghanistan was a labyrinthine labor, amid
a determined insurgency, venal governors, the patchwork of tribal loyalties,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 65

grinding poverty, and widespread illiteracy, Zack got schools and clinics and
water purification projects built. He created thousands of new jobs.
A few years later, when the U.S. pulled not only its troops but most of its
presence out of Afghanistan, he was transferred to Islamabad. He’d regretted
leaving so many Afghani friends behind, but it became a very happy time in
Zack’s personal life. With their daughter Genna grown, he’d finally persuaded
Julianna to live abroad. In all his years with State, the most consecutive time
they’d ever been together was five weeks. His lengthy postings overseas had
put a great strain on their marriage. He’d started to feel optimistic that these
months living like a normal couple would save them.
But then came Lubov’s warning, followed almost immediately by the
American School attack and revelations about siphoned funds in Kandahar. In
fact, when Lubov’s text message came in, it had been Julianna’s elbow that
prodded Zack from a sound sleep.
Normally, he’d wake at the slightest noise, let alone the cell phone’s loud
insistence. His unusual torpor was probably because he’d been on the road all
day, inaugurating two sites in the Swat Valley for his micro-credit lending
system. That, and a fantastic hour of lovemaking before they’d fallen asleep in
each other’s arms. Zack always slept much better if Julianna was there beside
him. But maybe it was the opposite for her. Maybe a lifetime of his absences
left Julianna unable to drift into deep slumber with him present…
Zack remembered the first time that he ever saw her. Sophomore year at
Princeton. A party at the Woodrow Wilson School. Actually, more of a
reception. It escaped him who’d been the guest of honor, but he recalled the
presentation was about the disastrously crushed Prague Spring.
Everyone was dressed in coats and ties. Nice dresses for the ladies, with
those big shoulders of the early eighties. Not unusual for faculty at the time,
but rather like a costume party for the students. People his age still wore the
jeans and tee shirts of their high school years. The preppy wave hadn’t taken
over yet. At least not at Princeton.
They’d served champagne. And no one cared if you were under twenty-
one. Which explained the large crowd. Though Zack, of course, had been more
interested in the lecture. Already, his fascination with history had taken firm
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 66

root, particularly the recent troubles of Eastern Europe.

He’d had several refills of the champagne, like everybody else. That’s
when he saw her, standing in a group of three girls and two guys. She was
stunning. Easily the most beautiful young woman in the reception hall. The
most beautiful on campus, too. She drew him in like a master hypnotist. Zack
was near the group before he’d even noticed he was weaving through the
crowd. He hadn’t spilled a drop out of his full glass of champagne. He’d never
seen a face so radiant.
Brad, his roommate, wasn’t there. Or he would have been the center of
attention. But Zack knew one of the guys from his seminar on Renaissance
Diplomacy; they’d worked together on a project. He had the memorable name
of Gillespie Wilberforce. Zack didn’t know the other guy, but it didn’t matter.
It was a group of three girls and two guys. He wouldn’t be intruding.
The three girls turned out to be freshmen. Zack would have been
stunned to learn otherwise. He didn’t think it was possible for a girl as
beautiful as Julianna to have escaped his notice for more than a year. She had
a captivating energy about her, too, as she stood there discussing the lecture.
There was a mild Southern accent to her voice, but her cadence was so rapid,
Zack had a hard time keeping up. Ideas spilled out of this girl with unusual
confidence for a freshman. Clever wit, too. Zack knew that he could listen to
her talk forever. Unfortunately, Wilberforce was zeroed in on her, already. But
the other girls were pretty and interesting, too, so Zack had no trouble talking
to them.
After about an hour, one of the girls said she had to leave to study for a
test. The third guy volunteered to walk her to her dorm. If he’d ever learned
the guy’s name, Zack didn’t remember, but the girl was Alison, one of
Julianna’s best friends. They still spoke often on the phone, though Alison had
returned to her native Oregon years ago.
The girl who remained with Zack was Rachel Sulzberger. Tall, with long,
straight chestnut hair, she had a sensual grace and a sultry way of speaking.
They’d remained chatting happily until the reception broke up, then
Wilberforce suggested they all go to Manhattan. It was a Wednesday night, but
the girls readily agreed. Back then, students regularly crossed the river to go
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 67

clubbing, because New York’s drinking age was 18 and New Jersey’s 21.
They drove in Wilberforce’s car, a roomy Saab. Zack couldn’t recall its
color, but the softness of its creamy leather upholstery was a precise sensation
in his memory. He’d sat in back with Alison. He still could almost feel the
softness of her thigh against his hand as she slid next to him on the curves.
Both of them were a little sloshed, and no one wore their seat belts in those
days. Especially not on a date.
They danced for hours at the club, had a good deal more to drink. Many
people were doing lines on tables, but for them, the evening didn’t include
coke. It was more than exciting enough as they made out on the dance floor,
then at the table, then all the ride home. From the front seat, there were
sounds of heavy kissing, too, while Wilberforce continued driving.
Zack wondered why Wilberforce didn’t pull off the road somewhere, but
now that he thought about it, the answer was obvious. Wilberforce had his
own apartment and he’d been eager to get Julianna back to it.
That night, when Wilberforce dropped them off, Zack saw Alison to her
dorm, but men weren’t allowed inside after ten. He’d called her the next
evening, and arranged a date for Saturday. They’d slept together, just the one
time. The sex had been embarrassingly quick. As Alison left his room, Zack
had the distinct impression that she’d hardly be insulted if he didn’t call again.
The next week, Zack’s eating club hosted a mixer. He was surprised
when Julianna came up from behind, put her hands on his shoulders, turned
him around.
“I thought that was you,” she said. “Julianna Trafford, remember me?
From the Prague Spring reception, then Studio 54?”
“Of course. You’re not a person I’d easily forget. But what happened to
Wilberforce? I thought you two were, uh-”
“An item? No, just that one date, silly. Sure, Gillespie’s a terrific looking
guy, but he’s not really my sort of beau.” Zack remembered how much her
drawl and the old-fashioned word had charmed him. “I go more for the
intellectual type… Great song. Come on, let’s dance.”
She’d taken his hand and led him out among the couples. It seemed
other-worldly that she’d sought him out. Now that Zack thought about that
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 68

party, it was equally mystifying that she hadn’t waited for him to make the first
move. Julianna had always been a great enigma to him. A woman who could
use the word beau without it sounding stilted, who’d insist on genteel manners
through her life, but who’d initiated each new step of their relationship. A
brilliant, warm, and generous woman, but one who often hurt those closest to
her.
It wasn’t so much lack of caring as Julianna’s belief that nothing a
delightful person like her did could harm somebody else. Even in their best
days, being with her was always like a painful pleasure. Like five-alarm
cuisine, so good it makes your head sweat and your pulse race, but also makes
you regret the indulgence every time.
Today, it finally occurred to Zack what made Julianna come looking for
him at that mixer. She must have heard that he’d gone out with Alison, that
they’d wound up in his room. Probably not the full report on his sexual
performance, because Alison and Julianna weren’t friends.
In fact, they were keen rivals, the two most attractive coeds in Princeton’s
freshman class. Also, two of the smartest. Julianna wasn’t about to let Alison
one-up her. Zack still felt amazed that Julianna considered getting him into
bed a feather in her cap. But Alison had likely made it known among her
friends what a wild night she’d had with Zack. Naturally, she’d made sure that
word reached Julianna.
So she’d had to have him. And the damnedest thing about it was, the
connection between them from that moment was superb. They’d stayed up all
night talking, long after the mixer ended. Julianna did most of the talking,
words spilling from her like a bubbling cascade. It felt as perfect as bathing
beneath a secret waterfall on a hot summer day.
When they’d made love three dates later, that had been perfect, too. Not
the slightest bit of awkwardness between them. Zack wasn’t even surprised at
his marathon performance. How could it be otherwise with such a faultless
girl?
Lost in these thoughts, Zack had strolled past the World Trade Center
site. He’d chosen this route to see the progress since his last visit. Now, he
intended to walk past Battery Park and take the Staten Island ferry. His sister
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 69

Penelope lived there. She had a hectic schedule traveling as a pharmaceutical

rep, and this was his first chance to visit since returning from Pakistan. Later,
he had plans to meet Artsev’s brother Pavel, who lived in Brooklyn. Come to
think of it, Pavel would know where to get the buffalo grass vodka. They could
drink some after their chess game.
Zack walked briskly, so he’d have time to stop at the Starbucks across
from the ferry’s entrance. He knew the schedule gave him another twenty
minutes before the next boat left. It was a chilly day, and he’d forgotten to
bring gloves. Much more than the flavor or caffeine, he loved the feel of
wrapping his hands around a hot cup of coffee.
A familiar odor reached Zack two seconds after the blast’s noise echoed
through the canyon of office towers. Wind was coming from the east. He was
hardly alone in guessing what had happened. Ever since 9/11, New Yorkers
couldn’t help but panic at every unusually loud noise.
This time, they were right. Terrorists had attacked Wall Street. With the
World Trade Center gone, the Stock Exchange had to be New York’s most hated
symbol among jihadists. Zack realized they must have struck it with a massive
truck bomb.
The air swirled with the reek of smoke and super-heated metal. But
there was something else. As Zack ran onto Broad Street, he knew what it
was. Actually, a face in the panicked crowd sparked his recognition of the
smell. Running past, the guy looked like a pool cleaner Zack’s parents had
employed in Darien.
Damn, they must’ve used a tanker filled with chlorine gas! Zack realized.
He was correct. In addition to the blast and fires killing hundreds inside
the Stock Exchange, a poisonous cloud swept across Wall Street at 12:30. It
was just when the lunchtime crowds were thickest. The chlorine killed dozens
of brown-baggers perched on steps around the plaza. They fell suffocating,
their eyes bulged out with pain and fear, their hands clutched to their throats
or chests, like doughboys in a trench at Ypres.
A woman sprawled over a chunk of granite from one of the toppled
pillars. She collapsed against an inert man. A dozen brokers who’d been
walking in a knot toward Nassau Street fell fanned out like the petals of a pin-
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 70

striped flower. Crumpled bodies and a headless torso lay in the gaping fissure
of the Stock Exchange’s main entrance. Shreds of cloth from the building’s
giant flag floated down on top of them. Blood ran along the gutter, making its
way over shattered glass, pooling briefly at debris, then flowing on to drip down
sewer grates.
Zack pushed past the surging crowd. Thousands of people were trying to
run as far as possible from Wall Street. His mind was filled with the horrifying
scene he’d witnessed at Islamabad’s American School. He prayed he wouldn’t
find another lifeless mound of rubble. At least there wouldn’t be children this
time. Not unless some school’s class trip happened to be present. He prayed
he wouldn’t see yellow buses when he turned the corner.
Along with hundreds of firemen and policemen wearing respirators, Zack
arrived in time to pull scores of injured victims from the wreckage. None were
children – thank God for small favors. The smell of chlorine still was strong,
but on this breezy day, the danger of suffocation was already past.
Soon, Zack and the firemen were joined by many ordinary citizens. A
guy in a Yankees jacket helped Zack lift a chunk of marble off a portly trader’s
torso. The victim’s chest was crushed and a broken rib was sticking through
his side, but he still had a pulse. Zack gave him CPR until the trader started
breathing on his own. Meanwhile, the Yankees fan went and brought two
firemen with a wheeled stretcher.
Not far away, Zack found a young woman still alive. She’d collapsed
yards from the tanker’s charred wreckage. A trail of blood led to the Stock
Exchange’s entrance. What remained of her blouse revealed a lacy bra, so
Zack studiously avoided looking up as he knelt by her side. Her worst injury
seemed to be a gash below her knee. She was conscious, but breathing
shallowly, probably suffering from shock. Zack removed his jacket and laid it
over her upper body.
“I’m going to tie a tourniquet, all right?” He said this gently, trying not to
alarm her. “Your leg is badly cut, but I think I can get it under control.”
Zack removed his belt and set to work. The young woman’s skirt was
also tattered, the strips splayed far apart. It was hard to avoid seeing all the
way up to her panties. Her thighs had formerly been pale after the long winter,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 71

but now were streaked red with her blood.

“My friend Marisol,” she said. “I lost her when she fell inside. After the
wall crumbled.”
The young woman’s voice was very soft. Zack wondered if she came from
Staten Island. Her tone reminded him of Melanie Griffith in the movie Working
Girl. She was about Genna’s age. She probably still lived at home. Her
parents might have heard this on the news by now. They’d be frantic with
worry, like all these people’s loved ones.
“Marisol will be all right,” he said. “The firemen are here. They’ll find
her.”
Zack tightened his belt around her thigh. She’d already suffered a lot of
blood loss. But it wasn’t the femoral artery, or she’d be dead by now. He
checked for other injuries, while continuing to reassure her. He learned her
first name was Nicole. She was a secretary, five years out of high school. She
was engaged to a repairman for Con Ed.
“Is your parents’ number on your cell phone?” Zack asked.
“It was in my purse. But that flew out of my hand.”
“I’ll call them for you, tell them you’re all right. Just make sure you call
again, once you know what hospital you’re at.”
“All right. Their number’s-“ But Nicole could not remember.
“That’s okay. It’ll come back soon. You’ve had a very nasty shock.
What’s your father’s name?”
“Williams. Like mine.”
“And his first name?”
“Umm… No wait, its- Come on, Nicole, you know this. It’s, um, John.”
For a moment, Nicole looked pleased that she’d remembered. Then
fatigue and worry collapsed her triumphant expression.
“What’s the address, Nicole?”
She couldn’t answer, and Zack didn’t press it. He promised to track
down her parents. Never mind there must be hundreds of men named John
Williams in the area.
He really hoped that Nicole made it. She seemed like a very nice young
woman. As he watched two EMTs load her into an ambulance, he saw another
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 72

girl in shredded clothing being carried from the building. This one was missing
both arms and her neck was at an angle so unnatural she must be dead. He
suspected it was Marisol. Fortunately, Nicole was facing away and couldn’t see
her friend.
Prevented by police from going inside the shattered building, Zack went
to help a man who was sitting on a chunk of rubble. This one’s leg was
broken, but he was able to hop over to an ambulance by leaning on Zack’s
shoulder. As he handed the guy off to the EMTs, Zack noticed that roughly
twenty people from New York’s Joint Terrorism Task Force had arrived.
Among the JTTF personnel were FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, NYPD,
and Transportation Security Administration agents. Already, they’d fanned out
to check for secondary bombs, collect samples for use in identifying the
explosive, search for fingerprints or remains of the bombers, interview
witnesses, and all the other post-blast investigative techniques.
As he helped more victims who’d made it outside to the street, Zack
started thinking about the bombing. He wondered how the terrorists had
driven their tanker into Manhattan. There were supposed to be restrictions on
hazmat vehicles crossing the bridges or the tunnels. And there’d been a
security squad permanently stationed at the Stock Exchange’s entrance.
Hours later, once all the injured went through triage and all the dead
had been removed, Zack finally sat drinking that cup of coffee in a canteen set
up on New Street. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He still
was shivering because he’d helped victims all afternoon without the jacket he’d
given to Nicole. A TV set was playing film of the explosion for about the
hundredth time.
The commentators hadn’t said so yet, but Zack knew the death toll
would be three figures by the time the final count was known. While this was
an unconscionable act of violence, the number of families devastated would
have approached 9/11 proportions except for two mistakes made by the
terrorists. One, they’d chosen a cold day, when the majority of office workers
had stayed in their buildings at lunchtime. And two, their choice of chlorine
gas would have been far more effective inside an enclosed space like the
subway. Unlike phosgene or Sarin or mustard gas, chlorine doesn’t hug the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 73

ground. Lighter than air, it disperses rapidly, especially on a windy day.

Now, Zack watched another replay, paying close attention. The security
camera had filmed the tanker rolling up, followed by a tractor trailer. There
was a truck barrier in front of the Stock Exchange’s entrance, but it was only
thin, metal fencing like you’d see at a parade. The two vehicles stopped just
outside it. One man stepped out of each truck’s cab. They joined each other
and walked away. The first was carrying a map. Their pace wasn’t especially
fast, but with a purpose, as if they were heading to the hot dog vendor on the
corner, intending to ask directions. Not one of the security men yelled at them
to move their trucks.
Ten seconds after the two men left the frame, the tractor trailer
detonated. A pair of executives who’d been closest to it vanished as if
vaporized. Zack thought he saw pieces of the five security men sprayed toward
the Stock Exchange’s columns. The truck’s fireball was followed almost
immediately by the tanker detonating. Black smoke obscured signs of the
chlorine gas. It was colorless, but transported under pressure at low
temperature, it would have emerged as a billowing cloud.
The scene shifted now to flame and falling bodies amid crashing chunks
of granite. The film was silent, but soon it was replaced by AV tape from
arriving NYPD cruisers. Now there was the roar of fires, the screams of victims,
and the noise of chaos.
By this point in the attack, the two drivers were no doubt blocks away,
sprinting up Nassau Street or Broadway. Zack knew that police were already
looking for witnesses who’d seen them. They’d also check film from all outdoor
security cameras in Lower Manhattan. The Port Authority would study their
films, too, searching for tractor trailers and hazmat trucks. Maybe they’d get
lucky and discover the two vehicles crossing a bridge or tunnel into Manhattan
together.
Now the television showed the pre-explosion scene again, but this time in
slow motion. Zack could see the terrorists were dressed in jeans and parkas.
Both were bare-headed, with short, dark hair. The film’s resolution didn’t
allow for much detail to their faces. Still, Zack recognized the first guy’s
clothing. It was the man who resembled his parents’ pool cleaner.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 74

Zack knew that analysts at Langley would be working on a computer

enhancement already. They’d try to identify these guys from file photos. But
he could provide a first hand description of the “pool man” who’d driven the
hazmat truck. Even if this terrorist was previously unknown, Zack could
produce an accurate image.
DCI Paolucci would chafe at the necessity to share it with rival agencies,
but he’d want the drawing circulated to all intelligence and law enforcement
personnel. And a decision would probably be made to broadcast it via national
media. Though he’d been persona non grata for months in Washington, this
was entirely different. It wasn’t hard deciding that he must call Hal Clark right
away to offer what he’d seen.
But then the news anchor returned, announcing that his station was
cutting away to a broadcast from the Oval Office.
President Yates came on five seconds later, looking grim, but staunchly
resolute. His pewter colored eyes pierced the air waves with fury. He wore a
dark gray suit, a white shirt, and a muted dark blue tie. Not his usual brighter
style.
He sat behind his Oval Office desk as he read from the teleprompter,
probably to relay the situation’s gravity. In every other speech that Zack
remembered, Brad had always stood. Here, he kept his hands gripped on the
desk. Before, he’d always made bold gestures, displayed a high degree of
vibrancy.
“My fellow Americans,” the President began like always. There was no
point departing from the trusted, familiar words. “By now, most of you have
heard about the act of pure evil that’s destroyed the New York Stock Exchange.
Hundreds of our fellow citizens have been taken from us by this cowardly
attack.”
Zack caught flashes of the speech as he cradled a second cup of coffee:
“Make no mistake -- these soulless murderers will be caught and tried
and executed. Those who planned the attack and those who carried out each
step will be identified and punished without mercy. Any country that gave
them assistance will be dealt with harshly, too. As we’ve proven each time they
try such villainy, terrorism’s masters will be dealt a devastating retaliation.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 75

“We’ll swiftly move to take the U.S. into its highest state of readiness.
Radical organizations have a historic pattern of launching their attacks in
waves. The embassies in Tanzania and Kenya. The World Trade Center and
the Pentagon. The Indonesian bombings. The London subway and bus
attacks. The Spanish trains. So we can expect they’ll try another outrage
soon. But I’ll spare no effort to ensure the safety of our beloved nation. These
inhuman monsters will be crushed.”
This was the decisive leader who enjoyed the highest midterm ratings of
any President since Reagan. Zack saw exactly what everyone else was seeing.
A fearless man, a dedicated leader. He’d once thought of Brad Yates in much
these terms. Not the sort of weasel who’d seduce his best friend’s wife. Who
wouldn’t lift a finger to help that man, while his career was ruined by a scandal
in which he’d been blameless. Who’d even ask his friend to take the fall
without complaint, because claims of innocence would keep the story in the
news. Never mind that his re-election looked all but certain, but this setback
in Islamabad might affect his margin.
None of this mattered now. Zack wasn’t about to let Brad’s duplicity
prevent him from carrying out his duty. He picked up his cell phone from the
table. He’d left it out after finally locating Nicole Williams’ parents. He rubbed
his eyes, still stinging from the chlorine, then scrolled up Hal Clark’s private
number at Langley.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 76

The flight to Singapore was easy, though expensive. Genna couldn’t

waste the two days minimum it would have taken to return to Wallaba and
pack her things, so she’d bought clothing and a backpack at Djibouti’s outdoor
market. From Singapore, there was a charter air service to Penang, but it
would have put a serious bite on her rapidly draining bank balance. Because
there was no need to hurry, Genna decided to take a train instead.
Singapore was a very modern city, but rural Malaysia was much like
other third world countries. Things moved slowly, with repeated delays as the
train made many stops. She hadn’t bought a first class ticket, so Genna was
treated to free entertainment: goats and ducks and pigs constantly escaping
from their owners.
By the time she left the train and crossed South Channel on a ferry to
Penang Island, Genna still had a day to spare. She rewarded herself with a
feast bought from street vendors on Swatow Lane. It reminded her of a scene
from Indochine, one of her favorite movies. In fact, the street looked so
familiar, she had a feeling they’d used this exact location.
Genna didn’t catch the dish’s pronunciation, but the first bite of a
lobster/abalone/spicy noodle combination was so good, she devoured a bowlful
in three minutes, then ordered another helping. Grinning broadly, the vendor
filled her bowl even higher this time. Palms together, she nodded slowly to
him, a sign of deep respect. He did the same, then grinned even wider. His
teeth and gums were bright red, a coloring she’d seen on many of the jovial
Penangese. It came from chewing betel nut, she’d learned.
“Betel’s always been popular with us,” the desk clerk at Genna’s hotel
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 77

explained that afternoon. This young woman was stylishly dressed, but also
had red teeth. “That’s how our settlement was started – Penang means Island
of the Betel Nut.”
“Better than ‘The White Man’s Grave,’ I guess,” said Genna. She’d
quickly learned how much the Penangese enjoyed good-natured teasing. “Isn’t
that what the English used to call your island?”
“That was from malaria. Not nearly the problem it used to be. The thing
we suffer from the most these days is excessively tight shoes.”
“Oh, you mean because of Jimmy Choo.”
“Yes, he made Penang so famous, now everybody has to walk around in
his creations.”
“Are they cheap here?” While Genna didn’t bother much with fashion,
Mom loved slinky pumps. They’d make a great present for her upcoming
birthday.
“Depends who makes them,” said the clerk. “I get mine from a hawker
on Gurney Road. Very well made. Look just like the real thing.”
“Thanks, I’ll go see him this afternoon.”
She had plenty of time for shopping, wandering, and sampling more of
Penang’s wonderful food, because the Polaris came in a day late.
Adam wasn’t on it! But it wasn’t hard discovering that the ship had
made an unscheduled stop in Rangoon. An engine valve had broken, and the
ship didn’t have the proper gasket aboard to make repairs, so they’d been
forced to dock. It sounded legitimate – the shipping office had told her right
away. And no one objected when she’d asked to go aboard.
The captain hadn’t admitted padding his pockets by taking passengers,
but he let her show Adam’s photograph among his crew. None showed signs of
recognition. It didn’t seem like they were hiding something. Genna felt certain
that Adam and the Zaghawas had left the ship in Rangoon. These days, huge
freighters were manned by a handful of people. Likely, the crew had never
seen their passengers. She’d have to go to Myanmar to find Adam.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 78

10

In Fairfax, Virginia, Julianna Bowen caught herself checking the hall

mirror on her way to the phone. For goodness sake, it wasn’t like he’d see her
as they talked. He’d never choose to do this with a video connection. He’d
never even asked for her cell number. Brad’s calls always came to an
encrypted land line installed by his most trusted man. The distinct tone was
how she knew this call was him. Before she’d separated from Zack, it had been
much harder getting messages, since Brad refused to use anything but ultra-
secure lines.
Julianna pushed back a stray curl. Silly really, but she liked to look just
right. Maybe far from perfect these days, but at 48 she still got most men’s
heads to turn. Her figure still was great. All natural. Surgery free for her face,
too. Botox didn’t count, did it? Everyone did that. She took another glance,
then got to the phone before its fourth ring.
“Hello,” she said.
Even if she couldn’t see him, it was easy picturing Brad’s face. The off-
center cleft in his chin, veering to the right. The roguish sparkle in his eyes.
Fine lines around the corners of his mouth only adding to his handsome smile.
Close cropped, nut brown hair that she couldn’t resist touching on those rare
occasions when she’d get the chance. She wondered if Brad’s wife knew that
he’d started touching it up last year. One visit, she’d seen him in her
bathroom plucking flecks of gray… the next visit, they’d been gone.
Certainly no one else, except his barber, would be in the loop.
“I’ve been hoping you’d call,” she added after a second’s pause.
“You get your wish. How are you?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 79

His voice had been electronically altered. Whatever program they were
using, it produced a natural sounding baritone with a slight Midwestern twang.
Pleasant enough, but nothing like his real voice. He had a Georgia drawl, a bit
deeper in pitch than this. Julianna had to wonder if their calls and meetings
were really a tight secret. After all, he’d need the help of numerous
technicians. But that was Brad’s business. As far as Julianna was concerned,
she’d prefer it if the whole world knew.
“I’m good,” she said. “Too much of a good girl for weeks, in fact. When
can you sneak me in?”
“You can’t be serious! Don’t you read the papers? I’ve got my hands full
with the Wall Street bombing.”
“Sure, I know you do, honey. That’s all anyone’s talking about in
Fairfax.”
“Then imagine your friends and neighbors times a million in D.C. Whole
goddamned Congress seems to think I should be out there personally catching
those assholes.
“No progress yet?”
“Not a trace. I’ve got thousands of people searching for the bombers, but
they’ve turned up fuck all so far.”
“Really? But there have to be some clues.”
“Both vehicles were stolen. They hijacked the chlorine tanker and killed
its driver. No witnesses and no forensic evidence. No suspicious upturn in
communications traffic among the terrorists we monitor. No statements on
their websites or al Jazeera claiming responsibility. We have both men’s faces
on film from New York and a good witness i.d. from, of all people, your ex, but
the terrorists don’t turn up in our files.”
“Wait, Zack was at the Stock Exchange?”
“Don’t say his name. I’ve told you a thousand times, don’t say any
names.”
“Sorry, I forgot. Is he all right?”
“Yeah. Not a scratch… Shit, this really fucks up the start of my re-
election drive. My reputation’s all about being tough on terrorists.”
“Then couldn’t it be a good thing, sort of? Everyone will see you’re in
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 80

command. You stay right on top of things, honey. And I’ll understand if you
can’t see me. Last thing you need right now is reporters getting wind of us.”
“Damned right. But that’s not what I’m calling about.”
“Why, what is it?”
“You don’t know anything? She didn’t e-mail you?”
“Who didn’t?”
“You know. The person whose name we especially can’t say.”
“Oh… No, she didn’t. Has something happened?” Julianna’s pulse
began to race. “Something to do with terrorists?”
“Nothing like that. But yesterday, she called one of our people in, well,
you know, the place where she works. She had some trouble in a neighboring
country. The same one where she wanted to work in the first place, but we
thought it was too dangerous?”
“Yes, and you nudged the right people to turn down her application.
Don’t tell me she’s gone there, after all?”
“Looks that way. Apparently, a friend of hers was injured. I got the
transcript of her call a little while ago.”
“You’re sure she’s all right?”
“Yes. She gave a very thorough report. She only had some scratches,
but this friend had broken bones. Worse, she thinks he’s a hostage.”
“Who is he?”
“You know I can’t tell you over the phone. Secure or not. There’s no
sense taking chances.”
“Right. Of course. But if you can’t tell me anything, why did you call?”
“It seems she’s become very close to this person.”
“How do you know? I thought your people don’t follow her.”
“They don’t. Even the best agents can’t keep a constant screen without
drawing attention. But I have it set up so her calls are monitored. Cell,
satellite, land line, all of them. Doesn’t matter if it’s her phone or not. Long as
she doesn’t alter her voice print.”
“Okay… and?”
“This person who was injured, they’ve talked a lot the last few months. It
looks like she’s in love.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 81

“What about the guy? Is he serious about her?”

“Hard to tell. But they’re very hot and heavy.”
“Goodness, if it’s that serious, you’d think she would’ve told me. When
her father and I were still together, we met her last boyfriend two weeks after
they started dating.”
“Maybe she’s told her dad. Hate to say it, but she’s always been a lot
closer to him.”
“No, Z- I mean, her father would’ve told me. He still calls every week, you
know.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned.”
“Right. Sorry, honey. We’re not getting back together, you know… It’s
just, our marriage was long distance for so long, talking about our week’s a
hard habit to break.”
“Tell me about it. Don’t forget, I’ve been married just as long as you.”
“No, I never forget that.”
Any more than she could forget Brad’s string of mistresses through the
years. Each one younger than the last. When he’d been a senator, the rumors
were nonstop. He had much less opportunity as President, but bloggers
claimed he was conducting an affair with his youngest daughter’s tutor.
“So have you checked out this new boyfriend?” Julianna asked,
determined to sound composed.
“Of course. Don’t worry. He seems like a good kid. Outstanding
academic record, athletic star – lettered in three sports, if I remember – fencing,
track, and target shooting. Volunteer work with Habitat, president of his
fraternity, and a Fulbright Scholarship.”
“Wow. I’d snap him up myself, if I wasn’t seeing someone with a temper.”
“Who?”
“You, of course. Can’t you tell when I’m joking by now?” No, of course
he couldn’t. For a president reputed to have the best sense of humor since
Gerald Ford, Brad never laughed at any of her jokes. “What about the
boyfriend’s family? I suppose you checked out his parents, too?”
“The father is a chemical engineer. Worked for a plant in Huntsville.
Retired recently. He’s a good deal older than us. The mother taught math at a
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 82

county college, but passed away last August.”

“That isn’t much of a report.”
“I’ll get a full background check, of course, if anything serious develops.
Immigration records, all of that.”
“What do you mean immigration? Aren’t they Americans?”
“Not originally. But both became naturalized citizens, and the young
man was born here. The parents emigrated from the USSR in the eighties,
during that first big wave.”
“They’re Jewish then?”
“No. Orthodox Catholics, I think.”
“Oh. I suppose that’s all right… But about this kidnapping, have your
people heard anything?”
“No, not a word. No ransom demands or statements.”
“Are you going to do anything about it?”
“We probably won’t have to. Looks like the problem’s gone away.”
“Why? What else have you learned?”
“Nothing from phone transcripts. She hasn’t mentioned him again. But
you know I have a very quiet flag on her passport, too.”
“She’s left the country?”
“Right. How worried could she be about this kid if she’s taken time off
to fly to Singapore?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 83

11

Genna felt hotter than she’d ever been. East Africa’s climate was a day
at the beach compared to Rangoon’s midday swelter. Or make that Yangon.
The government had officially changed the city’s name a few years back when
Burma became Myanmar. Either way, outdoors here was like walking through
thick soup. Genna had made her way to the fourth and last pier on her list.
This one was the filthiest yet. She couldn’t enjoy the paper cup of sugar cane
juice she’d bought. It seemed to have picked up the docks’ stench of dead fish
and diesel fuel. Her hair was a limp mat, and sweat streamed down her
forehead. She might be the only westerner in sight, but she felt like one of the
coolies carrying sacks.
She’d been surprised to learn that coolies still existed, but it was
understandable, considering Myanmar’s stagnation. Prolonged sanctions
against the military dictatorship left Myanmar one of the poorest countries in
the world. Families survived on the equivalent of ninety cents a day, and that
was if three of them had jobs. There was virtually no foreign investment and
very little tourism. The reclusive government, fearing rebellion, had moved the
capital away to a remote region.
Nothing worked well in Yangon. Roads were in disrepair, power outages
were common, her hotel looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Its
elevators didn’t run, its air conditioning rarely. The staircase up to her sixth
floor room was like a sauna. Genna couldn’t imagine that the lower five floors
were full, but she didn’t ask to change, since her room had a working toilet.
So far, none of the coolies recognized Adam’s picture. Few spoke English
here, but she’d engaged a guide. At the airport, Genna chose him over the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 84

others noisily proclaiming their skill because of the intelligence in his deep
eyes. And unlike his extroverted competition, this fellow’s broad face was
among the saddest she’d ever seen.
Not that a somber outlook guarantied honesty. In Genna’s experience,
sad people were just as likely as happy ones to be opportunists. But his
English was excellent and he came with a Honda sedan in reasonably good
condition. When she learned his name was U Win, this sealed the deal. He
swore it was a common name, not something to entice potential customers. He
claimed that he knew every language spoken in Myanmar.
Which seemed to be true, but it hadn’t done a bit of good. If they met
with no luck at this final wharf, Genna didn’t know where else to try. These
were the only four docks in Yangon with enough room to accommodate a ship
as large as the Polaris. She’d been unable to track down a harbormaster. U
Win said the Navy had taken charge of all shipping. He advised against
making inquiries through official channels. The political situation had calmed
down since the demonstrations and mass arrests, but it was never a good idea
to come to the government’s attention in Myanmar.
Now, U Win was speaking to a group of seven coolies who’d been carrying
teak logs one by one onto a rusted barge. After stepping across the pier to
where Genna waited in the shade, he told her that these men were Kachin, one
of the Burmese ethnic groups.
“Two of them said they saw a pair of short, muscular blacks, but no tall
white man was with them.”
“How do they know it was my boyfriend’s Africans?”
“They don’t. But there are no other black men here.”
“Good point. Where did they see these men?”
“At the Irrawaddy.”
“I thought that’s miles west of here.”
“Not the river. There’s a well known restaurant in Yangon of that name.”
“So they had a meal. That doesn’t tell us much.”
“The Irrawaddy also has a, uh, bar.”
“A bar? These men are Moslems. They don’t drink alcohol.”
“It is a certain kind of bar.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 85

“Do you mean a brothel?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know if that was an acceptable word to use. I couldn’t
say such a thing to a polite Burmese woman.”
“I’m not that polite.” Genna saw the downward curve of U Win’s mouth
droop even more. “Sorry. I was making a joke. A poor one… I meant I don’t
find prostitution shocking. But I’m a little surprised your government doesn’t
shut it down. My guidebook says there’s no sex trade in Yangon any more.”
“That’s what they like to claim. But this government has no shame. It’s
the same people who tortured many monks to death during the crackdown.
And did their best to kill off our minorities through the nineties. They sent
soldiers through village after village, burning the houses, slaughtering the
livestock, killing all the people.”
“Did this happen where you come from?” U Win looked so full of hurt,
Genna knew this must be true. “You managed to escape?”
“I wasn’t there. There was a long war between the government and
rebels. The people of Shan state were always trapped between the two. When I
finished school, my parents wanted me to leave and work here in Yangon. In
five years, I saved enough money to start an office that exported ironwood. It
grew profitable and I urged my family to come join me in the capital. But
before I could persuade them, soldiers came to my village.”
“What happened? Or am I intruding too much?”
“No, it’s fine. I think it’s right to speak about the dead… The troops’
commander claimed we were loyal to Khun Sa, so they killed everyone. My
parents, my sisters, brothers, all my relatives except one cousin who survived
his wounds. Before the murders started, they raped every single female, little
girls and grandmothers, too. My cousin told me that they made the menfolk
watch. They took away the prettiest ones – they do that sometimes as presents
for the generals. The girl whom I was pledged to marry, she was one of these.
When I came back to Yangon, I searched through all our brothels, hoping that
they sold her when they’d finished. Then I went to Thailand for a year and
searched there too, but I never found her.”
“I’m so sorry for all you’ve had to suffer.”
“It was my fate… and theirs. That’s how we think about these things.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 86

It’s also how I came to know these places, so I became a guide when the
western sanctions destroyed my business.”
“You don’t lead sex tours, do you?”
“That’s one of the few reasons tourists come here any more. I’m sad to
say they often ask me to show them these places.”
“So you take them?”
“I have no choice. A working car and language skills, these are my only
assets. And there’s little other business for tour guides in my country.”
“But why would they come here, with Thailand right next door?”
“Bangkok and Phuket, they’re not so cheap any more. Here, a girl will
charge about five thousand kyat. That’s five dollars American. The customer
can rent one of the bar’s rooms for another five. But there’s another reason,
for men with, er, special tastes.”
“What do you mean? Teenaged girls?”
“They can get that in Thailand. Half the girls are under eighteen. But
here, there’s little to prevent some brothels from offering children as young as
nine or ten.”
“What? That’s terrible. Why would your government allow this?”
“Like everything else, the generals own these places. It’s their third
biggest source of revenue, after teak and opium.”
“What about kidnapping?”
Genna was thinking that maybe Adam had been sold to the military. Not
that she could see what sense it made. He had no money and his family wasn’t
prominent. Anyway, what possible connection could there be between
Sudanese tribesmen and Burmese dictators?
“No, I’ve never heard of them taking hostages for ransom.”
“Never mind. It was just a thought… But if the generals own these
brothels, I imagine nothing goes on there without their knowledge?”
“Yes, that’s very true.”
“Do they post soldiers or policemen in these places?”
“You’re thinking we could ask them if they’ve seen your boyfriend.”
“Right.”
“That would be unwise. Anyway, there’s no sex zone any more. The
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 87

brothels are very spread out now. I spend my time driving tourists to hundreds
of different bars and restaurants and rooming houses all across Yangon. I’d be
out of work if they were concentrated in a few well known places like in
Bangkok. But the generals closed down the ones on our best known street so
they could say they’d fixed the prostitution problem. I should thank them for
eliminating our, what’s the English expression – red night district?”
“Red light.”
“The traffic signal? Really?”
“No, I think it’s for lamps with red globes, like they do in Amsterdam.”
“Thank you. Most informative. But as I was saying, they only chased
the problem elsewhere. Since Myanmar’s grown so poor, more and more girls
are coming from the countryside. The only work they can find is in garment
mills or brothels. The bar girls make twice as much, maybe fifty American
dollars a month.”
“That isn’t much.”
“It is to us. Here, the monthly salary for a government worker comes to
ten dollars. And that’s a good job. On our farms, it’s often hungry days this
time of year. We call it green rice time.”
“So the girls just do this seasonally?”
“If they’re lucky. A lot of girls are sold to rings. They’re sent to Bangkok,
because the supply has dried up from Northern Thailand. Our girls are
considered equally desirable -- they’re fair skinned, and good natured. Few
ever make it back, and when they do, many of them have AIDS.”
“I see.”
Genna felt outraged, but she had enough of a problem finding Adam
without starting a crusade against this depraved dictatorship. Once she was
safely out of the country with Adam, she’d see what could be done.
“So what day was it that the Africans were seen?”
“Yesterday,” said U Win.
“Maybe they’re still out carousing. Maybe they have Adam stashed
somewhere.”
Or maybe he was already inside the brothel when the Kachin
dockworkers spotted the two Zaghawas. Genna couldn’t help but wonder.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 88

From what she’d learned in Djibouti and Penang, Adam seemed much more
like the Zaghawas’ companion than their hostage. On the other hand, it was
only a week since he’d been badly injured. What would he be doing in a
Yangon whorehouse?
“Let’s go and ask around,” she said.
Driving as fast as possible, like all the other traffic, U Win negotiated
Yangon’s many potholes on their way to the Irrawaddy. But a fierce thunder
shower erupted halfway there, reducing visibility to a few feet. It was monsoon
season and these storms came every day.
They waited out the weather in a dilapidated restaurant. Its ceiling
shook from the pelting rain. Its walls bowed in, threatening to collapse. U
Win assured Genna that this food was worth any nervous feeling that the
sagging architecture produced. Also, that the only thing served here was food.
There was no menu and a sign written on butcher paper taped to the
front window was only in the handsome semi-circular Mon script. U Win
recommended mohinga.
“It’s our national dish,” he said. “We make it with curried catfish,
ground chickpeas, and fermented fish paste.”
It sounded revolting, but Genna had spent much time overseas. She’d
worked in six countries, and traveled in many more. She always made it a
point to enjoy the local cuisine. When it came, the mohinga smelled far better
than it looked. She tried a taste… superb. Or maybe it was just her appetite.
It had started to rage now that she was over morning sickness. She saw U
Win stir in a moist spoonful of crushed red chili peppers. She scooped up a
spoonful of her own, but U Win advised her to use only the tiniest bit.
“I had a client last year and we stopped here, too. He boasted that he
could eat the hottest foods. He bet me double or nothing on my fee that he
could eat a spoonful of the chili straight, and not drink any water until we
reached the Irrawaddy. His face turned brighter than a red-faced gibbon. I
thought his head was going to explode.”
“Did he drink the water?”
“No. He was determined to win my pitiful fee. Later, I had to take him to
the hospital. I was glad – this man was one of those who like little girls.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 89

Genna didn’t answer. She hated this disturbing subject. As she stirred
in a little of the crushed chili, she hoped a spoonful eaten straight had torn a
big hole in that despicable sex tourist’s stomach. She hoped that all such
bastards slowly rotted.
U Win was right about the chili. The Burmese version was hotter than
anything she’d ever tasted. If she’d used the whole spoonful in her bowl of
mohinga, she would have had to go outside and open her mouth to the
downpour.
When the rain stopped, they visited the Irrawaddy, then U Win reeled off
a list of twenty more brothels throughout this side of Rangoon that they could
cover today. Most were in back rooms of restaurants or upstairs from bars.
“Do you like to sing?” U Win asked her before they reached the second
place.
“I do, but my voice is dreadful,” said Genna. “Why do you ask?”
“This one is a karaoke place. A lot of them are. We Burmese love our
music.”
“Oh. Let’s hope they don’t ask me. My mother says my voice is like an
injured cat.”
Adam, on the other hand, had a beautiful tenor. After learning some of
the traditional Sudanese songs, he’d often persuaded the refugee children to
join him. She could easily see him doing karaoke numbers through the
Yangon night with his Zaghawa escort.
They covered six of these karaoke bars in the next two hours. Genna
learned nothing about Adam, but was invited upstairs a dozen times. For next
to nothing, too. In the sixth place, it was a girl dressed in a Catholic school
outfit who’d just sung, “Good girls don’t…” She went so far as to pull Genna to
an elevator. But after it creaked down, a load of off-duty bar girls spilled out
with children in tow. That’s when Genna made her escape. She suspected that
the Burmese hookers were so desperate for business, they would have dragged
nuns from the street. Or maybe they simply liked her flushed face and
bedraggled hair.
In the seventh karaoke bar, a pair of westerners were singing Rocket
Man as Genna entered. They sang in English, but their accent was German. A
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 90

bar girl dressed in a tube top and plastic skirt hooked her arm through
Genna’s as the Germans finished. She was very pretty, with huge eyes, golden
skin, and a perfectly symmetric face. She wore little make-up except for pale lip
gloss. Dangly silver ear rings brushed across her prominent cheekbones. She
was tall, taller than Genna. In fact, all the girls in here were statuesque. Must
be this bar’s theme. She’d seen many beautiful women in Yangon, but few tall
Burmese.
“You sing now?” said the girl as a pair of laughing Amazons led off the
Germans.
“No, I can’t,” said Genna.
“What you like? Elton John? Allosmeet? John Denva?”
“I just want to show you a picture.”
“Show Lin Mei anyting. Take picha, too, if like. No have to sing. You
come upstales?”
“You don’t understand. It’s not that kind of picture. It’s my boyfriend.
I’m asking everyone if they’ve seen him.”
“Oh, you like boy? No ploblem. I have blotha.”
“No, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I’m looking for my boyfriend. He’s
missing and I need to find him.”
“I find blotha for you. Don’t be shy – he very pletty. Stlong, too. He
wolking plotect this karaoke.”
Genna wound up giving Lin Mei a handful of kyat to go away. The girl
quickly attached herself to a Japanese tourist singing Rocky Mountain High.
“I guess I should feel complimented,” Genna said to U Win as they left.
“I’ve never been propositioned before today. Do they think I like girls?”
“No, they ask all the foreign women. Money is money here. Foreign
currency is hard to come by nowadays.”
“If it happens again, could you tell them no thanks for me? Say I’m
honored, but I like men… and I already have a boyfriend.”
No one had seen Adam at the next ten places they got to before dark, just
another sighting of the Africans. The two Zaghawas had spent U.S. dollars at
this place, a night club called the Golden Tiger. Genna assumed they’d gotten
the cash from Adam. They’d bought many rounds of drinks. So much for their
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 91

Islamic beliefs.
U Win drove them to the next bar on his list. Before Genna went inside,
a Toyota spewing fumes squealed up to the curb. A pair of burly policemen
leaped out and grabbed her. They started yelling in high-pitched Burmese.
Genna looked around for U Win to translate, but he was nowhere in sight.
Maybe he’d already stepped inside the brothel to show Adam’s picture to the
girls. Genna yelled as loud as she could, but U Win didn’t come out. He’d
disappeared awfully fast. In fact, the street was deserted now as the policemen
dragged her into their car.
It was a nightmare as they crossed Yangon. The policemen’s shrill voices
never stopped. One screamed into her ear as the other drove. Genna felt sure
they’d take her somewhere dark to rape her. She’d be lucky if she made it alive
into a Burmese jail.
But they didn’t stop until they reached their station. There, she was
strip-searched. Genna wasn’t sure, but if she had to guess, she’d say the one
who did the full body inspection was a woman.
Afterward, she was thrown into a cell with a wet floor. It had a bare light
bulb that sent off sparks against a moldering wall. A hole in the floor was the
latrine. There was one bunk with a rotting mattress for the six inhabitants.
The reek was indescribable.
Of the five women who were her cell mates, two were unconscious, two
seemed badly stoned, and the only lucid one played with a knife. Genna
wondered why she was allowed to keep it. A policeman sat across from the cell
smoking something that smelled like burning tires. He didn’t respond when
Genna tried repeatedly to get his attention. She demanded to speak with
someone from the American embassy, but he just sat there in a trance.
Genna waited for hours until a policeman came who spoke some English.
From what she could understand, she’d been arrested on a suspected drug
deal.
“That’s crazy!” she protested. “You’ve searched me and found nothing.”
“That only means you haven’t bought the drugs yet,” was the gist of his
response.
“Then why wasn’t I carrying more money? Plus, you confiscated my
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 92

return ticket to Malaysia. So you know I have to travel through a country with
some of the harshest anti-drug laws on the planet.”
“My problem not if foreigner are stupid.”
She asked again to see someone from the U.S. Embassy. The policeman
ignored her request, continuing to harangue Genna about drugs. Probably,
that’s what U Win had told them. He must have set her up, because they’d
known exactly where to find her. She wondered what his cut was on the deal.
If this was a set up, there’d be no profit sending her to rot in a Burmese
prison. She wouldn’t be surprised if they sent her as a sex slave to some
general’s villa. No word would ever reach America about her case. When her
child was born, if they even allowed her to carry it to term, she felt sure they’d
sell it. Genna couldn’t help feeling she’d be better off if the first two policeman
had simply raped and killed her.
After the questioning, she was shoved back in the cell. The whole night
passed without a drink of water or a bite of food. Then, the two sleeping
women stirred. The first one spotted Genna, and soon rose. She walked over,
then standing inches away, she grasped the sleeve of Genna’s blouse. This
woman was shorter than Genna, but very stout. Genna knew better than to
push her away. If this was a bar girl, she’d learned how determined they could
be.
The woman chattered to her cellmate as she continued examining
Genna’s clothes. The second one marched over and started rubbing the
material of Genna’s pants. These were light cotton, inexpensive, the ones she’d
bought in the Djibouti bazaar. Unimpressed, the second woman turned to
Genna’s blouse. This also came from Djibouti, but it was high quality, a good
find for an outdoor market. The second woman pulled at its collar, unfastened
the top button, examined this by leaning down and biting it, said something in
Burmese to Genna. Maybe she wanted to know the price.
Genna couldn’t answer, obviously. She knew no Burmese, Kachin, or
whatever these women spoke. Of the Chinese dialects, she only knew some
Mandarin, and it wasn’t spoken here. The two women launched into an
argument. They pulled at Genna’s blouse. The collar ripped, which only made
them argue louder. They pulled back and forth, the stout one’s fingernails
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 93

scratching Genna’s neck.

Before the blouse ripped completely, Genna whistled shrilly. Dad had
taught her this. She’d been so proud when she’d learned at seven. Both
women clapped hands over their ears. Genna took the opportunity to back
away a step. She turned to face the wall, removed the blouse and bra, then put
her blouse back on. To settle them, she gave the stout one her bra and the
other one her shoes. The one with the knife looked envious, but Genna had
nothing more to give without exposing herself to the guards. Except her socks,
but these were damp and none too fresh. They’d probably insult her knife-
loving cellmate. So Genna had to sit up all night beneath the spitting bulb as
the woman glared at her.
Two days and two desolate nights later, the English speaking policeman
entered the corridor. He slapped the sleeping guard who stunk of burning
tires, snatched his key ring, and opened the women’s cell. He took three long
strides, grabbed Genna by the arm, and hauled her out. He marched her to
the station’s front, then pushed papers at her.
The writing was in the Mon script again, and Genna assumed it was a
confession. She accepted the officer’s pen, ready to sign anything. If they were
bothering to make her confess, maybe it would go to court. Then she might be
granted an attorney. She could convince him to contact the embassy, by
promising that her parents would give him a reward. Maybe she’d only get the
next twenty years in a Burmese prison instead of disappearing.
“Where do I sign the confession?” Genna asked in a voice devoid of hope.
She didn’t particularly care what crimes the document alleged.
“Not confess. Is leceipt.”
“Huh? Receipt for what?”
Maybe he meant recipe. As in, a listing of her drug deal’s steps.
“Leceipt for lady handbag. Have wallet, handblush, milla, tissue, and
beauty tings inside. Also passpaw, plane ticket, and hotel key.”
“You’re giving them back? I’m free to go?”
“Yes. Mistake. Have pleasant visit. Enjoy beautiful countly.”
Genna signed the paper, took the box of her possessions, and stumbled
out before they changed their minds. The small amount of cash she’d had in
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 94

her wallet was still inside, so she waved down a bicycle rickshaw man to take
her to the Royal. Yangon’s streets were just as before. Hopelessly snarled
with oxcarts, broken down vehicles, and repair projects that had made no
progress during the time she’d been inside the jail. The only difference was
that a small procession of saffron-robed monks was out today. Normally,
pedestrians would stop to show their deep respect, but afraid of bombings or
arrest, no one watched them pass.
Her room was just as she’d left it. What was going on? If they thought
she was a drug courier, they would have tossed it. But nothing was out of
place. Before she even showered or changed her filthy clothes, she went down
to the desk.
“Has anyone entered my room?” she asked the clerk.
“Just our cleaning staff.”
As if he’d rat out the police to a foreigner, Genna thought.
“You’re sure I’ve had no visitors?”
“No visitors, but you have a message.”
“From who?”
Genna had a fleeting hope that it was Adam. Maybe he really was on
some innocent trip with the Zaghawas. Maybe it all was explainable. He may
have learned she’d followed them. This message could be him getting in touch
as soon as possible.
“It’s from a Mister U Win.”
“Oh,” said Genna, her expression darkening. “Give it to me please.”
The clerk handed her a slip with U Win’s name and address on it.
“Nothing else? He didn’t say anything about the Golden Tiger or police?”
“I’m sorry, but that was all. Just the address where you can find him.”
Genna went up to her room, quickly showered and changed. She went
downstairs, then got into a bicycle rickshaw outside. She gave its driver U
Win’s address. She couldn’t call since he’d left no number. There was a phone
directory for Yangon, but it was impossible. She wanted to know what the sad-
faced guide wanted. He’d seemed so honest, but he must have had a hand in
this. Was it possible they’d released her just to pick her up again? They might
want to follow her to a connection. Still, she doubted that they really thought
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 95

it was a drug deal.

“Are you all right, Miss Bowen?” asked U Win after opening his door.
“Yes. Why did they arrest me? I trusted you. Why did you tell them
where I was?”
“I didn’t. They must have followed after we visited the Golden Tiger.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know, but if they think you’re setting up a large drug purchase,
they’d want their cut.”
“Why would they think it was a drug deal?”
“The Golden Tiger is known for that.”
“Oh, so that’s why the detective kept asking me about drugs. He thought
he was being cheated.”
“Yes. That’s why I paid his commission.”
“You did? How much?”
“Three hundred dollars. It took me two days to scrape together. You can
pay it back?”
“Yes. Of course. But why did they accept so little?”
“It is a great deal of money here.” He looked at her as if she was a
spoiled daughter of the rich. Just another arrogant American, who’d bothered
to learn nothing about the way people really lived across the world. “Besides, if
the men who arrested you sent you to a police colonel or one of the generals,
they’d get much less, if anything.”
“So I’m off the books?”
“That’s right. You were never arrested.”
“Thank you so much. I thought it was you who turned me in.”
“No worries, Miss Bowen. This was not your fate.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 96

12

U Win arranged for two tourist class tickets on the night train to
Mandalay. He’d convinced Genna that Taunggyi near Lake Inle was a good
place to look for Adam. The owner of the Golden Tiger came from this village.
He hadn’t admitted seeing either Adam or the Zaghawas, but U Win had
returned when the owner wasn’t there. The bartender was trying to emigrate to
Australia, and owed U Win a favor for helping him write the application in
English. He said that the free-spending Zaghawas had arranged to buy twenty
kilos of heroin from the owner, Mr. Yan.
“Maybe your boyfriend’s already in Taunggyi,” said U Win. “Ne Yan’s
cousin runs a heroin refinery in the hills near there.”
“But Adam isn’t a drug dealer,” Genna had insisted. “He hates drugs.
I’ve seen him walk away if people even start passing around a joint. I don’t
believe he’s part of anything illegal. I still think he’s their prisoner.”
“Maybe so. All I can say is we should look for him in Taunggyi.”
“But why would Africans take him to the Shan State? It makes no sense.
Maybe he really is with them. Maybe he’s changed the focus of his story.
Maybe he’s investigating the drug trade, what it does to refugees.”
“We have no refugees among the Shan. The war has stopped, except for
the government’s supposed war on drugs.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way it works here is that soldiers slaughter some farmers in
unprotected areas, so the Army can say they’re wiping out the problem.
Everywhere else in Shan, territories are carved up for drug profits between the
generals and the former rebel armies. There isn’t a village where opium isn’t
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 97

grown.”
Opium – not that again, she thought, recalling that when they’d made her
father a scapegoat for the American School massacre in Islamabad, opium had
funded the operation.
“Who controls Taunggyi?”
“One of the Wa warlords. He used to be allied with Khun Sa. You’ve
heard of him?”
“Yes. Didn’t he have practically his own country in your north?”
“That’s right. Run almost entirely on opium. Ne Yan used to be a
commander in his army.”
“Won’t it be dangerous to search for Adam there?”
“Everything’s dangerous in Myanmar. But everything’s negotiable, too.
If your boyfriend’s a hostage, you can buy him. As long as you have the
money.”
“I have four thousand dollars left. More, if I cash in my plane ticket.”
“Four thousand is enough, I think… Unless he really is a customer.
Then--”
“I know. I can’t make the mistake of letting him back into my life.”
But should I tell him he’s the father of my child? Genna had to ask
herself. She was in the strange position of hoping that Adam really was a
hostage. If he wasn’t, what else could explain his behavior since the attack in
Sudan?
She managed to sleep through most of the train ride. The journey to
Pagan went with remarkably few problems. U Win was able to rent an auto
from a fellow guide. He knew this man from many previous trips north. As
they drove through the town, Genna saw hundreds of brick pagodas of all
different colors, shapes, and heights.
She saw a few other westerners exploring the pagodas. One man was
taking a photograph of Burmese women wearing stacks of hoop necklaces that
looked very heavy. U Win said that these days, the “long-necked” women made
their living solely through these pictures.
At a particularly tall pagoda, a pair of tourists leaned out from platforms
high above. They’d arrived in a horse-drawn cart, whose driver sat patiently
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 98

chewing betel nut. As he released a jet of red juice, Genna was reminded of
poor Matthias, whose chew of choice was qat.
Outside Pagan, the countryside quickly became rice fields and tiny
villages. Flocks of paddy birds flapped up as they passed, along with
pheasants and herons. The road was in deplorable condition, but U Win’s
driving habits didn’t change. He thundered along at top speed, rattling
Genna’s jaw as he crashed through pot hole after pot hole. Everyone in
Myanmar seemed to drive this way.
When they stopped to eat in Kalaw, she saw no other westerners.
Children stared at her -- U Win explained that tourism had become so thin,
some of the youngsters had never seen Caucasians. She enjoyed trading
smiles with the children, whose faces were among the prettiest she’d ever seen.
Traveling east again, the terrain rose, becoming drier. Except for the
lack of wildlife, it looked to Genna a lot like an African savanna. But she did
see elephants working as they passed a tobacco plantation. U Win said there
were many more elephants working in the teak and rubber plantations. Plus
wild ones living in the hills.
On the outskirts of Taunggyi, they came to a cattle market. While U Win
spoke to a man who’d greeted him as an old friend, Genna looked around. She
saw men sitting on blankets, waiting patiently for business. Except for
replenishing their pipes, they never moved. Most were dressed in the
traditional Burmese sarongs called longji. There were a few ancient cars on the
streets, but the prevailing means of travel was by ox-cart. They continued on,
passing bamboo houses, food stalls, and pagodas. U Win pulled up at one that
looked similar to the famed Jumping Cat Pagoda in Genna’s guide book.
“Why are we stopping here?” she asked. “Have the monks trained cats
here, too? I’d love to see it, but we really don’t have time for a show. I want to
get started right away showing Adam’s picture.”
“That’s why we’re here. My old friend at the cattle market told me he’s
seen the warlord’s drug couriers come to this temple.”
“Did he see a white man recently? Or Africans?”
“No, but my friend’s brother is a monk here. According to him, the
couriers’ offering was very generous this week. He said they must have
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 99

delivered a big sale."

While U Win went into the private quarters of the pagoda to speak with
this monk, Genna waited in a courtyard. She enjoyed watching geckos
scurrying after insects on nearly every tree and wall. U Win didn’t come out
until an hour later.
“The monk told me where their warlord has his factory for making
yama,” was his only explanation.
“What’s that – is it like yaba in Thailand?”
“Right. He’s got many of our people addicted. They leave the opium
alone – it mostly goes for export to heroin labs in China – but the yaba’s
cheap.”
“So you’ll take me to this place?”
“If you wish. We’ll show your boyfriend’s picture. Offer a reward for
information. Fifty thousand kyat should be enough. It’s more than a month’s
wages. But don’t say anything – I’ll negotiate. If these men don’t trust you,
they can turn violent very quickly.”
“All right, I understand,” said Genna.
They continued northeast as the land rose toward the hills. Now the
road passed through thick forest. A lot of rhododendron, and trees that looked
like oak and pine. On one tall fir, Genna saw a roosting colony of flying foxes.
She could tell that’s what they were, because they were hanging upside down.
They were as large as her childhood pet Droopy and their faces were like dogs.
She would have loved to see them glide between the trees.
Two hours later, they drove through a burned out village. The only life in
evidence were some tapirs that had come out of the forest to root in an
abandoned vegetable plot. U Win’s sad face tightened into rage, but he said
nothing. Genna didn’t ask if this was his birthplace, but she felt sure it was.
He didn’t stop to visit the graveyard. But now she understood why he’d taken
so long at the pagoda. When he’d emerged, he’d smelled of incense. He must
have been offering prayers for his murdered family’s souls.
They continued up the mountain road, then turned onto a track that was
in even worse condition. After another hour of thumping around slick
hairpins, skidding halfway off the track repeatedly, coming so close to the edge,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 100

Genna had to close her eyes to reassure herself they wouldn’t go crashing down
a steep ravine at the next curve, they finally pulled into a clearing.
Here they left the track to go on foot. U Win said it wasn’t far. But it
was at least an hour’s walk as they followed hoof prints up the muddy trail.
Genna’s guide book spoke of many varieties of poisonous snakes in these
upland forests. Also tigers, leopards, buffalo, wild boar, and rhinoceros.
They encountered none of these, but did manage to spook a small
antelope and her fawn. As these animals crashed through the dense forest,
Genna heard the hoot of gibbons announcing they were coming.
A few minutes later, men with machetes came out to intercept them.
Down the trail, Genna could see a building that looked like it was made of
leaves.
U Win spoke to them in the local dialect. It was clear that they knew
who he was. They relaxed, sheathed their machetes, agreed to look at Genna’s
picture. U Win waved her forward to give them the bribe he’d negotiated. They
took it and the picture, too. They shook their heads and said something. U Win
didn’t have to translate, since it was clear they were denying ever seeing these
men. For another 30,000 kyat, they agreed to show the picture around inside.
When they came back, they had a third man with them. He was dressed
in western clothing, carried a large gun in his hip holster. Probably the
manager of the drug lab, Genna thought.
But when U Win saw this man, his face turned purple. Before Genna
knew what was happening, U Win had jumped at the first bodyguard, pulled
the machete out of its sheath, and launched himself at the manager, screaming
something in Shan. He must have recognized the man as someone who’d
participated in his family’s slaughter.
Before the manager could draw his gun, U Win had hacked the blade
halfway through his torso. Genna screamed a warning as the second guard
raised his own machete, but U Win’s blade was stuck in the manager’s ribs.
The second guard’s machete tore through U Win’s neck. Genna turned to flee,
but the first guard reached out and caught her. The second guard swung at
her head. She ducked his first strike, tore loose from his partner, but tripped
as she tried to run away. He swung again and then her world went black.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 101

13

Okay, Vi, Zack asked himself, what’s the best move now?
Vi was Zack’s alter ego in his thoughts. When the kindergarten teacher
had stumbled through Zachariah Aloysius Bowen VI that first day on her roll,
she’d mistakenly read his last name as Vi. All that year, the kids had rhymed
it in delightful songs with pee. Through second grade, a huge kid called Rusty
would pound Zack if he tried to join playground games. Then Rusty would sit
on his chest, while leading all the boys in chanting,
“Vi’s a girl,
she wears a pearl,
the ugliest sissy in the world,
she even makes her mother hurl.”
Yeah, Rusty hadn’t been the greatest poet. But like the Boy named Sue
in Johnny Cash’s song, the taunts became Zack’s blessing in disguise. By
fourth grade, he’d honed his fighting skills and flattened Rusty, who was now
the size of a gorilla. From that day on, no one called him anything but Zack.
Except in his own thoughts. The Vi was to remind himself what people
did the moment they sensed weakness. Just as well he’d never had a son. It
would have been nearly impossible resisting five generations of Bowen tradition
by giving the boy an easy ride like Mark or Mike. Genna, now this was a
beautiful name, short for Genevieve. One of the few things he and Julianna
ever agreed on after the romance’s starry eyes had faded.
So what should I do about Genna?
The strange phone call with Julianna had established one thing beyond
doubt. Their daughter was in love with a young man named Adam Lindsey,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 102

who seemed to have disappeared. The rest of that phone call… he’d need to
quickly push it from his mind. He couldn’t let this turn into another week-long
funk. Every time they talked, it happened.
He worried there must be a grave imbalance in his mind. Sure, anyone
would feel devastated after this past year – his marriage’s collapse, his
shattered reputation, and especially the murdered children in Islamabad --
but unlike a normal man, he couldn’t seem to rise from his prostration. Like
Dad, who’d always seemed so strong. And Granddad, though no one would
admit this, either. Zack hadn’t known what strychnine meant when he
overheard two aunts talking at the cemetery, but he’d looked it up when he got
home. Finding the right spelling at last, he’d been forced to realize that
everything said about Granddad’s exemplary life must be a lie.
And now his own life, too. Why did he keep calling Julianna, anyway?
There was nothing left to fix. The problem was, he loved her still. So he kept
picking at the raw wound of betrayal.
“How long has this been going on, anyway?” he’d asked. “You’ve never
really given me an answer. Just do this one little thing for me, and I’ll agree to
everything you want in the divorce.”
“I’ve told you fifty times. You know I didn’t start with Brad until we
separated.”
“Sorry, but that’s hard to buy. The way he always flirted with you? Used
every possible excuse to come sniffing around you. Especially when I was out
of the country.”
“Of course he visited. That’s what friends do. But didn’t I always tell
you? If we were having an affair, don’t you think I’d keep my mouth shut?”
“You thought I’d hear it anyway from Genna. Brad always was her
favorite uncle.”
“Believe me, all he ever did was drop by for ten minutes. Back when he
was a senator, Brad got about as much privacy as he does now that he’s the
President.”
“Yeah, but not at Princeton. Seems like he was around you all the time.
Frankly, I was surprised you went out with me at all, with that smooth prick so
interested.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 103

“Would you get over it? That was almost thirty years ago.”
“But all his “uncle” visits weren’t, were they?”
“If you want to know the truth, I always wished he would stay longer.”
“Until Genna fell asleep, you mean.”
“No, you jerk! Why can’t you men ever stop thinking with your cocks?”
“Sure, this is all my warped imagination. The idea of cheating never
crossed your mind.”
“That’s right, and I don’t care if you believe me. I was old friends with
Brad, nothing more. With you away so much, the company was welcome.”
“You could’ve come to Moscow. Lots of spouses did. The family quarters
were extremely nice.”
“That first time in Budapest was plenty for me. You have no idea how
hard that was on a young wife with a baby.”
“No, I got that part. I tried to make things as easy as possible for you.
What you’ve never understood is that living apart was very hard on me, too.
Anyway, Genna wasn’t so little by the time I was assigned to Moscow.”
“I wanted a normal life for her.”
“She would have loved it. What you really wanted was a conventional life
for yourself.”
“Of course. What’s so wrong with that? I loved you, Zack. I fought to
save our marriage. I begged you to take a regular position at State.”
“You mean a prominent one, leading to a highly paid slot in a lobbying
firm.”
“You earned it. You did your time overseas. I did my time alone…”
“Great. I guess we’re both alone now. Me for real, and you with Brad.
Congratulations. You got what you wanted. Now see how much you like it.”
“I don’t like it much. There, does that make you happy?”
“No, not a bit.”
She was the only woman he’d ever loved. And the foreign postings that
had wrecked his marriage, that he’d thought had been his duty, only two of
these assignments were genuinely in the country’s interest. The rest of it, all
that Cold War bullshit was about as much responsible for communism’s fall as
Nixon’s machinations or Reagan’s billions wasted on his Star Wars scheme.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 104

Any spy who’d lived through these times could tell you that it was the spook
games propping up a desperately weak Russia.
The Kremlin would have fallen long before if they didn’t have the western
bogeyman to scare their people into line. So his whole life was a lie. His
marriage, his career, his childhood, too. All Dad’s crap about honor. A bullet
in the brain his preferred solution over disgracing five generations of family
prominence through bankruptcy.
And now more lies. What kind of game was Brad playing? Why would
he take the chance of having an affair exposed during his reelection drive? And
with the wife of an old friend. A friend he’d abandoned. Or worse, allowed his
career and reputation to be sacrificed for some hidden purpose.
Hell, Brad acts like there’s such a taint on me, he didn’t even want Clark
using my description of the Wall Street terrorist.
Or maybe it was Clark, himself. The buzz was that DCI Paolucci planned
to run for President four years from now. If successful, he’d make Clark his
DCI. But that wouldn’t happen, if negative publicity like his former association
with Zack clung to him. The list of people who knew he’d been Zack’s case
officer in Moscow was very limited, including only Paolucci, Ron Padgett,
Secretary of State van Scuyver, Clark, and Zack, himself. Naturally, Clark
would like to keep it this way.
Clark’s assistant Dean Osterveldt had Zack brief a junior staffer, who’d
set up a meeting at the airport Hyatt. Obviously, they didn’t want him showing
up at either State or Langley. There was such a media circus going on about
the bombing, a camera crew would certainly have caught him. Someone would
have recognized him from the American School hearings.
At the Hyatt, Osterveldt’s aide had taken his statement. They must have
found it believable. A follow-up meeting was arranged, where a graphics
specialist had generated an accurate sketch. But he’d yet to see this drawing
on the news. Probably, because the press would feel compelled to dig out the
source.
Fine, if Brad was so determined to leave him in the cold, Zack had a far
more urgent crisis on his hands.
After finishing with Julianna, he’d called Genna’s satphone, but she
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 105

didn’t answer. Same with three more calls that afternoon, evening, and the
next morning. She’d missed her turn in their regular exchange of e-mails, too.
In fact, Genna’s voice mail box was full, which meant she may have been
unable to return messages all week. So he’d e-mailed Mary McGahan, Genna’s
boss at the Wallaba camp. Her reply came promptly, with news about the
incident at Sabemba in Sudan.
Zack got in touch with Dr. Adad and learned the full story. Apparently,
this Adam Lindsey had been injured in a firefight, but was rescued by
Sudanese friends. Genna had called Dr. Adad after reaching safety separately.
She’d been worried about Adam, but Dr. Adad had told her that Adam had left
with his Zaghawa friends.
Zack called Steve Sowiecki at the U.S. embassy in Addis Ababa. Steve
had once been a junior staffer in Moscow and was now an attaché for
development and trade. Steve told Zack of Genna’s phone call, including what
she’d said about the murder of a Sudanese man named Matthias. At the time,
she’d also reported Adam Lindsey’s likely kidnap, but this now seemed to have
been resolved.
Something had prompted Genna to leave Africa, however. Calling in a
favor from the old days, Zack was able to obtain Genna’s credit card records.
Zack saw that she’d flown from Juba to Addis Ababa, then the next day to
Djibouti, and that evening to Singapore. She’d taken a train and ferry to the
Malaysian city of Penang, then continued the next day to Yangon. She’d stayed
at the Royal, then checked out two days later.
Passport records wouldn’t show if Genna had actually made these trips,
since a U.S. terminal wasn’t involved, but photo i.d. was required for air travel
almost everywhere in the world. Assuming that no one had stolen Genna’s
credit card, its last reported use was at the Yangon train station. There, she’d
made a cash withdrawal in the local currency after buying two tickets to Pagan.
There was no record of Genna after Pagan. He’d heard of this place
before, but looked it up on Wikipedia to refresh his memory. It was located
between Yangon and Mandalay, an ancient town famous for pagodas. A fine
place for sightseeing, maybe – Mary McGahan had said she’d given Genna two
weeks off – but what Zack had learned so far hardly seemed like a vacation.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 106

Especially with Genna incommunicado, and no mention of Myanmar to her

boss or parents.
Zack decided to trace Adam Lindsey next. It wasn’t an extremely
common name, but he still googled up fifty of them in America alone. Julianna
had said she thought this young man was from Alabama, but nothing on
Zack’s list matched up. Come to think of it, why did Julianna know about
Genna’s new boyfriend if he didn’t? Since when had Genna confided anything
about her love life to her mother? It bothered Zack more than it should. He
almost called Julianna back, but knowing how the call would go, he stopped
himself in time.
You think you’re the only one she tells anything? Fuck you, asshole, I love
her just as much as you do. It would rapidly accelerate into another vicious
fight. Zack had enough trouble without this.
He eliminated forty of the Adam Lindseys on the grounds that Genna’s
boyfriend would be in the 25-35 age range. Another three because they weren’t
college graduates. Genna had always been attracted to intelligent men. Phone
calls quickly established that six of the remaining men were working or
attending school in the U.S. Which left an Adam Kevin Lindsey awarded an MA
in History at Duke University last May. On the History Department’s site,
Adam was listed as a Fulbright scholar. When Zack turned to BlueDevils.org,
he found numerous articles mentioning Adam’s fencing victories. Adam’s
name appeared in stories about track meets and target shooting competitions,
too.
Probing deeper into the History Department site, Zack discovered that
Adam had co-authored a paper with Dr. Morris Sunderland. He called the
professor’s office, and it turned out that Sunderland was Adam’s thesis
advisor. Sunderland’s secretary dug out an emergency contact number for a
Mr. Edward Lindsey in Monrovia, Alabama.
Now Zack felt sure this was the right Adam Lindsey. He called the
number, but it was disconnected. When he called the Monrovia High School,
Zack learned that Adam’s father was a widower. The school secretary
mentioned that Mrs. Lindsey had been a wonderful woman, a popular teacher
at the county college, and very active in the PTA. Nearly the whole town had
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 107

turned out for her memorial service three months ago. There’d been no funeral
– the secretary said that Mr. Lindsey and his wife weren’t from America,
originally. He’d decided to take her home for burial.
Some further research established that Adam’s childhood house was sold
three months ago. When Zack called, the new owner couldn’t provide a
forwarding address. Zack did a search for the name Edward Lindsey, but came
up with nothing that he didn’t know already. He remembered Julianna saying
that Adam’s father was a chemical engineer. He knew that there were several
chemical plants in the Huntsville area, but he didn’t call these yet.
He phoned back Dr. Sunderland’s secretary, told her he was with the
Fulbright committee. He said they needed Adam Lindsey’s birth date because
it was missing from their records.
With the birth date, he was able to get a passport number. His former
secretary Ann Hennessy had returned to Washington from Moscow. She was
back at State now, and always glad to do a favor. Ann ran Adam’s passport for
background information. Zack got his social security number and address of
record, but it was in Durham, North Carolina. He knew this was the home of
Duke. Then he asked Ann to check for recent visas.
There’d been no travel recorded since Adam entered Ethiopia in June.
But again, there was no way to check if he’d accompanied Genna to Malaysia
and Myanmar. Genna had only purchased single tickets, but Adam would
have likely paid his own way. If Zack could use his CIA contacts, it would have
been easy to get Adam Lindsey’s credit card records, but for now this was
impossible.
Zack tried to call Genna again, but she still didn’t answer and her voice
mail box remained full. There were no new e-mails from her. Now, Zack was
really getting worried. It wasn’t like Genna to drop out of contact. She was a
very responsible young woman. Plus Julianna said that Genna was in love
with this Adam. Why would an incident in which he’d been hurt make her run
away? Yes, their friend Matthias had been killed, according to Steve Sowiecki,
but Genna was a very determined person. She might be upset about the
Sudanese man’s death, but it would only make her work even harder to help
refugees. Mary McGahan said that Genna loved what she was doing and
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 108

everyone loved her. She wouldn’t abandon the camp unless something was
seriously wrong.
Zack booked a ticket to Yangon, maxing out his last credit card. That
afternoon, he sold his car to raise extra money. He flew that night to
Myanmar, took a taxi to the Royal, paid cash for a room, and asked the desk
clerk if he remembered a Miss Genna Bowen from the U.S. He got out his
wallet and flipped it open to her picture, in case Genna was traveling under a
different name.
“Yes, I recognize her,” said the clerk. “She was our guest, but left three
days ago.”
“I’m her father and I’m worried about her. She’s dropped out of contact –
it’s very out of character. When she stayed here, was she alone or with
someone? Perhaps this man?”
He took out a photo he’d printed from the Duke fencing team’s site. It
was Adam Lindsey receiving an ACC championship trophy.
“I did not see this man. Miss Bowen had a single room. That is all I can
tell you, sir.”
“I think she’s disappeared. Her mother and I are very worried. Did you
notice anything unusual?”
“No, nothing…” The clerk wasn’t about to mention the police search of
Miss Bowen’s room. “Except she had a message to meet a Mr. U Win.”
“Do you know who that is?”
“He is a tourist guide. Excellent reputation.”
“How can I reach him? Do you still have the number?”
“Yes, but this is confidential.”
Zack slipped the clerk a 10,000 kyat note.
“I cannot give you the original message, but here…” The clerk dug in a
box beneath the counter. “… I have his card. Our guests ask me to
recommend guides sometimes.”
“Of course.”
Zack went up to his room and phoned. U Win didn’t answer. The room’s
air conditioning came out of the vent so tepidly, Zack threw open his windows.
He stripped to take a shower, but unlike Genna, he hadn’t lucked into a
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 109

working one. He tried U Win’s number again, but there was still no answer.
He left a message, speaking slowly in case the man’s English wasn’t fluent.
He washed in the sink, then went back downstairs.
“I can’t reach this guide,” he said to the clerk. “Can you tell me anything
about him?”
“Er, nothing much. That is to say…”
Zack handed the clerk another 10,000 kyat note.
“He is a nice man, but very sad. I think he is from Shan State, maybe
that is why. You know, the wars we had up there. He is about thirty-five years
old. These days, like most of the guides, he specializes in karaoke tours.
Places like the Golden Tiger. Your daughter mentioned this karaoke to me.”
“Karaoke? Genna doesn’t sing. She’s terrible.”
“No, you misunderstand. Here, karaoke means something else these
days. It is for, er, I do not wish to give offense, but-”
“Sex tours, you mean.”
“Yes. That is to say, I’m sure your daughter has nothing to do with this.”
“Of course not. She’s gone on to Pagan. Tourists don’t visit there for
brothels, do they.”
“No. Not that I have heard. They usually continue to Lake Inle.

Zack crossed Yangon in a wheezing taxi. It got stuck in traffic near the
Shwedagon Pagoda. He remembered news reports of 20,000 monks and nuns
protesting here before the crackdown. He took the time to do a deep breathing
exercise as he watched the pagoda’s golden spire. Feeling calmer, he lowered
his line of sight to the hundreds of barefoot Burmese parading clockwise
around the stupa. He noticed individuals stopping at a variety of planetary
posts. He’d heard these corresponded to the day of the week on which they
were born. He watched them pouring water at their posts and making offerings
to the Buddha image.
Zack’s taxi finally worked its way out of the traffic on Singuttara Hill.
Ten minutes later, he got out across from the Golden Tiger. It was in the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 110

business district – if any business was still done in the former capital, that is.
The Sakura Tower, Yangon’s most modern building, sat almost empty on this
block. Only a few of its windows had lights on. A mound of rotting garbage sat
alongside the curb.
If this were any other country, Zack would have watched the Golden
Tiger before entering. Sat in a parked car while “studying” a map. Or rented a
room in a nearby hotel. But the only hotels in this district were closed down,
their entrances padlocked, their front windows boarded. And there was so little
motor traffic, he’d be conspicuous sitting in a car. He couldn’t blend in as a
local, and he had no Burmese contacts he could use for surveillance. As little
as he wanted to, he’d have to go into the Golden Tiger as a customer.
He’d only slept with two women in his life. The first was that awkward
five minutes of fumbling with Julianna’s arch rival Alison. For the past year,
he’d spent eight months of it not sleeping with Julianna. They’d shared the
same house, even the same bed, but little else.
After she’d moved out, it was four months of trying to get past the
heartache. He’d made no effort to meet someone new. Now, Zack finally felt
like his connection to Julianna was completely severed, but to hang around a
bar for hours, sleep with one young hooker after another until he learned
something… an eastern orgy may have popped up in his fantasies once or
twice over the years, but he had no desire to indulge in the real thing.
There was no help for it. Zack crossed the street. He went into the
Golden Tiger, gawked a bit like any lonely foreigner, sat down at a table,
watched the show. There were six girls on the stage, young and beautiful with
exquisitely delicate faces. All were dressed in high white boots, short denim
skirts, Dallas Cowgirl style vests, see-through blouses, and Stetson hats. They
were singing, “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys…”
When the waitress came to his table, Zack ordered a bottle of Tsing-tao,
a Chinese beer he liked. He sipped it slowly while the cowgirls danced through
another song, then began pulling customers on stage. Zack did not resist
when his turn came. He agreed to the girl’s suggestion of On the Road Again,
then sang it with her, arm in arm. It was fun, to tell the truth. Unlike Genna
and Julianna, he had a good voice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 111

sung in public.
“You sing pletty,” the girl complimented Zack when they were done.
“Good as Willy Norwood.”
“Not really, but you’re nice to say so. I’m just okay, but you’re terrific.
You should be the star when you girls sing together.” Zack slurred a little, as
he’d done while singing. Not for the girl’s benefit, but in case someone was
watching.
“Tank you. Sing songs make Kyi Nu happy. Handsome mens, too. What
you name?”
“It’s Frank. But no one ever called me handsome. I’m just a big nosed
American. That’s what you girls all call us, right?”
“No. Kyi Nu tink you handsome. You like come loom?”
“With you? But you’re so beautiful.”
“You nice say so. I make you happy.”
Zack let himself be persuaded quickly. Kyi Nu took his hand, led him
from the stage, past the tables, then down a hallway. The elevator wasn’t
working, but it was only on the second floor, she said, so they took the stairs.
When they came out on the corridor, there was an older woman sitting in
a fraying chair. Kyi Nu asked Zack for the room fee of eight dollars. He gave it
to her without comment. He knew it was probably negotiable, but he was
supposed to be tipsy and eight bucks was so little. Kyi Nu took the bills,
handed them to the woman, then took Zack’s hand again. She led him down to
her room, talking nonstop about American entertainers, joking that someday
she’d go to Hollywood, asking Zack if he knew any big stars there.
Zack enjoyed her chatter. Kyi Nu possessed a very sonorous voice and
had an engaging way about her. Next to Julianna, she was easily the most
beautiful woman whose hand he’d ever held. Or make that girl. He tried to
guess her age. She looked younger than Genna by several years. And the
other girls in her stage show looked even younger, eighteen or nineteen at
most. Beauties every one of them. It felt so sleazy that he might have to keep
returning, take them all upstairs.
Kyi Nu pushed the door open, led Zack in. The room was tastefully
decorated with prints of mountainside pagodas. The bed was neatly made with
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 112

a jade green cover. There was a pleasant scent of sandalwood. He’d expected a
squalid mess, like everything else in Myanmar. Zack looked around for
personal possessions, saw only a silk dressing robe folded over a chair. He
wondered if this was Kyi Nu’s permanent room, or other girls rotated. Either
way, thousands of men must have come through here.
He turned back to Kyi Nu, who’d continued chattering about Hollywood.
The cowgirl vest, knotted blouse, and denim skirt were off already. Now she
sat on the bed in red lace panties, trying to pull off her boots. Her breasts were
golden, taut and just the size for fitting in his palms. The opposite of
Julianna’s. He’d forgotten – was large and creamy white his original
preference? Or was that simply longing for the days when Julianna used to
smother his face between them?
Now he noticed Kyi Nu’s body jiggle as she tugged the boots. Funny, the
last time he’d taken Julianna out to dinner, they’d shared a serving of crème
brulé. When he’d split it in half, the two mounds on the plate had quivered
just like Kyi Nu’s breasts. He wondered if they’d taste as sweet. Or if her
plump, round hips were as warm and welcoming as they looked. Beneath the
sheer panties, he could see a dark and narrow line. She must have shaved.
He wondered what it would feel like.
“You pull on it?” Kyi Nu asked.
“What?” Zack asked, at a loss for words. “Well yeah, I guess all men do
sometimes.”
“You funny man.” Kyi Nu laughed. It was charming, sounding like the
light brush of a wind chime. She raised a slender hand to cover her mouth.
“Silly, I mean boots. They tight on feet.”
Zack grabbed the silk robe and tossed it at her. If he helped her with the
boots, she’d have the panties off an instant later. He didn’t think he had
enough will power.
“No, you don’t understand. I only wanted to pay for your time. I came
up here to talk.”
“We talk. Talk music, talk movie. You no like Kyi Nu body? You tink too
old. Want young gull downstale.”
Kyi Nu clutched the robe against her body, looking ashamed. Zack
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 113

wondered how long she’d done this work.

“Not at all. You’re beautiful. But I’m here in Myanmar to find my
daughter. I’ll still pay you, of course.”
“Okay.” Kyi Nu’s expression brightened almost at once. “What you want
know?”
“I think my daughter came to the Golden Tiger with a guide named U
Win. Do you know him?”
“Shaw. See him sometime, talk to Ne Yan. They both Shan.”
“Who’s Ne Yan?”
“He own Golden Tiga.”
“Did you see U Win here in the last week with an American woman? A
pretty blonde, a little older than you, a little taller, much more…” He didn’t
think she’d know what busty meant, so he pantomimed wide curves. Then he
opened his wallet and got out Genna’s picture.
“No see in Golden Tiga.”
“Oh.”
Zack’s stomach clenched with disappointment. He’d had such a good
feeling about this girl. Now he’d have to try the others, then probably dozens of
other brothels in Yangon. He couldn’t imagine what Genna wanted in them,
but this U Win sex guide was his only lead. He doubted he’d make it through
the night with his clothes on.
“What about this man?” He showed Kyi Nu the picture of Adam Lindsey.
“Has he been in the Golden Tiger?”
“No see him eitha. But see you daughta.”
“What? I thought you said you didn’t.”
“Not in kalaoke. Kyi Nu see outside.”
“On the street outside the Golden Tiger? What was she doing?”
“Five night ago, police flom T’ird Station push you daughta in Toyota.”
“They arrested her? Why?”
“Don’t know. Customa in bat’ loom. Kyi Nu heal noise, look out window.
See police take way blonde hail woman. Plobly dlugs.”
“Why drugs?”
“That why police all time come heal. Ne Yan give money… Don’t tell I
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 114

say so. He beat gull who talk his business. Maybe file me. Maybe Kyi Nu
disappeal like otha gull.”
“No, of course I won’t tell anyone you helped me. But I still don’t
understand why they’d arrest Genna. Even if it was a drug deal. Sounds like
that’s normal here.”
“You daughta need pay police.”
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Kyi Nu shaw. Woman, my age, look Amelican. Pletty, not too tall. Thin,
but have big tits. Maybe boob job?”
“No, er, naturally blessed.” Zack reddened. He felt extremely
uncomfortable talking about Genna’s figure. “But never mind her shape.
You’re sure you recognized her face in the picture I showed you?”
“It you daughta I see police take away. You betta go pay police at T’ird
Station now. Wait too long, they send daughta to genelal… You pay Kyi Nu,
too, for talk? Need much kyat. Then I get big tits, too.”
Zack blushed again as he handed her a twenty. He hadn’t changed his
dollars into kyat, but knew the Burmese preferred dollars.
“Thanks for telling me about the police. I really appreciate your help…
But listen, the last thing you need’s a boob job. You’re absolutely perfect.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 115

14

Zack didn’t bother with the Third Station. Even had he enjoyed official
status, he knew that only bad things came from dealing with police in a
country like Myanmar. Besides, Genna must have paid their bribe and been
released. Two nights after Kyi Nu witnessed her arrest, she’d bought a pair of
tickets for the train to Pagan. Zack assumed the other ticket was for Adam
Lindsey. He showed their pictures to clerks and passengers and porters, but
found no one who recognized them.
He bought a ticket for that night’s train to Pagan. Again, he showed the
pictures to everyone on board, but had no luck. In the morning, he asked
every guide and driver waiting outside Pagan’s station. He missed U Win’s
friend, who’d taken the day off to attend a shinbyu ceremony at the monastery
where his son was a novitiate.
Zack decided to travel to Lake Inle. The clerk at the Royal had
mentioned it. Zack’s map confirmed this region was the gateway to Shan
State. If Adam Lindsey had brought Genna on a drug buying expedition, Zack
had a hunch it was taking place nearby. A brief conversation and a modest tip
to the Golden Tiger’s bartender had produced the information that the owner
Ne Yan came from Taunggyi, a town to the northeast of the lake. Ne Yan
seemed to be a middleman for heroin, and the sex guide U Win was his friend.
Zack engaged an English speaking guide to take him to Taunggyi. They
reached the town that afternoon. Zack made no pretense of visiting pagodas.
He wanted it known that he was interested in drugs. He circulated the central
market until he found a stall selling herbal remedies. He asked for yama,
which he’d learned was sold as “energy” pills in Myanmar. A tiny, very
wrinkled woman launched into a harsh, high pitched tirade.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 116

“She doesn’t sell yama,” explained Zack’s guide Bo Nyunt. “She thinks
it’s evil. So many of our people are addicted now.”
“I don’t care. I want some. If you won’t help me find it, I’ll get somebody
else.” Zack held out a twenty dollar bill. It was two months wages here.
“No problem. I didn’t say I agree with her. I know just where to take
you.”
They went to the other side of the market, where a man had a display of
many pill bottles. Most had Chinese characters on their labels, a few came
from the west. Behind them, there was yama in plain view.
For ten dollars, Zack bought all the vendor had, then asked where he
could get more. He held out a twenty to this man, too.
“Come back tonight,” Bo Nyunt translated the man’s reply.
“I don’t have time to wait,” insisted Zack. “Tell him I want the supplier’s
name, or it’s no deal.”
Once this was translated, the man didn’t hesitate to write down a name
and phone number. There was nothing clandestine about selling drugs in
Myanmar. As long as the generals and warlords got their share, no one feared
arrest.
Zack had brought his satphone along. Technically, it belonged to State,
but he’d never returned it. A cancellation order hadn’t wound through the
bureaucracy yet. He called the number, but Shwe Nat didn’t speak English, so
Zack got his guide to translate again.
“Tell him I want to buy as much heroin as he can sell me,” said Zack.
“Heroin, you say?” asked Bo Nyunt. “Not yama?”
“That’s right. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a very nice tip if you set this up.”
A meeting was arranged for that night at a village called Shwenyaung on
the lake. Zack passed the next two hours watching a festival in Taunggyi. Bo
Nyunt explained it was to celebrate the ear-piercing ceremony that local girls
went through as their coming of age rite.
As he sat drinking a beverage made from fermented coconut, Zack’s
thoughts drifted off to Genna at the same age. She’d been such a graceful,
thoughtful, generous-hearted girl. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done right to
deserve this daughter with the spirit of a shining angel, but arcing through his
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 117

fear about her disappearance, he felt enormous pride. She hadn’t changed one
bit from her first steps until today.
He remembered Genna as a toddler. Wherever they went while he was
home, the park, a store, a fast food place, she had to visit everybody. She had
to try out her few words and make them smile. At the beach during his August
leave, he’d learned to buy her two ice creams, but hold onto the second one.
He couldn’t remember where Julianna was on these occasions, but she never
came down to the beach with them. The two ice creams were necessary, since
Genna would walk around to all the neighboring umbrellas, offer everyone a
lick, wait there holding out her dripping cone until they had no choice but
accept. Genna would have done it with the second cone as well, ranging
farther and farther, sharing with the seagulls, too, except Zack got the bright
idea of carrying her into the water at this moment. And promised her that
fishies don’t like ice cream, or she would have scattered globules of it in the
water.
At Easter time, she’d collect her plastic eggs of candy, then redistribute
all the peanut butter cups, her favorites, making sure that every squirrel or
birdie got a piece. She’d save a single candy for herself, savoring it, never
thinking that she could have had dozens more. But she wouldn’t even finish
this one, insisting that Zack take the last bite.
God, he had to find her. It would be an unimaginable loss if such a good
person were taken from the world. Sure, he was anything but impartial – how
could any parent be? -- but Zack could honestly say that Genna was the finest
person he’d ever known.
His thoughts jerked back to Taunggyi by the loud clang of a gong, Zack
resumed watching the ear-piercing ceremony. The pageantry was beautiful.
Except for a few modern articles of clothing and wristwatches Zack spotted in
the crowd, this might have been a thousand years ago. Villagers drove ox-carts
in a parade, garlanded with flowers of all shapes and colors. Traditional
dancers wove graceful patterns to music studded with bells and drums.
Dozens of priests from a nearby Theravada Buddhist shrine chanted prayers
and sprinkled all the guests with fragrant water. Elders burned incense sticks
to honor the village’s guardian nats. Men held competitions of all kinds, from
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 118

races to wrestling to a kind of stick fighting similar to kendo.

Noticing Zack’s size and powerful physique, elders invited him to spar
with the local champion. After another bowl of fermented coconut, Zack found
it hard to say no. He’d trained in martial arts, but other than practice fights,
he’d never had to defend himself. In all his years of undercover work, it wasn’t
necessary. The trick had been to stay undiscovered. The worst way to
accomplish this would have been to battle the opposing side.
Zack selected a long stave, and gave it a good effort. He had height and
reach on this fellow, they were a match in strength, but the man had cat quick
reflexes. After getting knocked to the ground three times, Zack laid down his
stave and embraced the man to acknowledge him as champion. The crowd
cheered Zack’s gesture, then women led him to a mat. Here, they piled plates
of food for him and more bowls of fermented coconut.
Zack ate well, but now he didn’t touch the potent wine. He needed to be
sober for his meeting. When he was done eating, Zack told Bo Nyunt to drive
him to Shwenyaung. Once they reached the town, they drove through a maze
of lanes, their borders spilling over with thick foliage. Lianas trailed down from
the branches overhead, like serpents in the twilight. With the windows down,
the musk of civets was overpowering, like drowning in a vat of expensive
perfume. Must be the breeding season, thought Zack.
Bo Nyunt let him off at a home beside Lake Inle, saying he’d wait at a
café in the village. He wrote down a number for Zack to call when he was
ready. Maybe this should have been Zack’s first clue that unpleasant things
might happen here… But he knew this already.
The house was a handsome structure made of teak and river stone.
Beneath a waxing moon that glowed with pale gold, misty light, Zack could see
this house was easily ten times the size of average dwellings in Myanmar. Its
owner Shwe Nat must be doing very well. Zack knocked on the door, was let in
within seconds by a thickset bodyguard, then shoved against the stone wall by
another. They frisked him thoroughly, finding nothing other than Zack’s
phone, wallet, passport, and a camera. He knew better than to come here
armed. The bodyguards examined each item in turn, then handed them back
without a word.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 119

“Who gave you my number?” asked a wiry Burmese, after Zack was led
out on a deck.
Jutting from a steep hillside, the deck was lit by lanterns that hung from
carved poles. Their swaying light reflected off the lake’s dark water far below.
Holding machetes, another pair of large Burmese stood beside the wiry man.
From his expensive clothes and sparkling rings on eight of his nine fingers,
Zack assumed this was the drug lord Shwe Nat. A very pretty woman stood
behind him. In a soft and lilting voice, she’d just translated what he said.
“I got the number from a man named Adam Lindsey,” Zack answered.
“He’s an American like me. I have the Washington market, so I often deal with
Adam. He operates directly to the south.”
“You’ve come a long way, Mr. Burris.”
This was the name on Zack’s i.d. and credit cards. His passport said
Frank Burris, too. The passport wouldn’t survive an inquiry at the U.S.
embassy, but if they went this far, the ruse had already gone bad.
“I like to travel.”
“What do you want with me?”
“My supplies from Afghanistan have become unreliable. Just as well --
Burmese heroin has gained a reputation for much higher purity. Adam says
that you’re the best man to see in Myanmar.”
“This is true,” said Shwe Nat. “My heroin is very pure – ask anyone. The
opium comes from my own poppy fields. It goes straight to my refinery.”
“Excellent,” said Zack.
He’d now confirmed that Adam Lindsey did come here to purchase large
amounts of drugs. He was getting a very bad feeling about what else had
happened. If it got Genna hurt, or something worse, the foulest corners of hell
wouldn’t stop him from hunting down Lindsey. But Zack kept this fear and
anger from his voice.
“The less hands product touches, the better I like it.”
“How much did you want to buy?”
“I’ve brought five thousand dollars cash with me. If the heroin tests out
as pure, we can set up regular shipments. I pay top rates for first class
product.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 120

“You’ll be pleased with the assay, I promise. I’ll have a package made for
you.”
He said something to one of the guards. The girl didn’t translate this.
The youngest of Shwe Nat’s four guards left the deck. Zack heard a car start
up and leave the property. Which meant the heroin was kept somewhere else.
“Your home is beautiful,” said Zack, making conversation as they waited.
“The lake must be a treasure in the sunlight.”
“It’s very peaceful. We’re all glad there’s no fighting any more. More
profits for everyone.”
“My friend Adam would be impressed with this place. He loves to fish.
Back home, I’ve had him to my summer home at Hatteras. He’s an excellent
water skier, too. Tell me, has he seen your view from this deck?”
“Yes, he was my guest last week. Khin Taw here, she made him very
welcome.”
The girl kept her eyes down as she translated. Her voice was like a
whisper. Nothing like the bold sexuality of Lin Mei at the Golden Tiger. More
like the innocence of the young girls at the ear-piercing ceremony.
“Too bad I missed him.”
If Shwe Nat had loaned this girl to Adam for bedding privileges, it meant
that Genna was no longer with him. This made Zack even more worried about
what they’d done with her. He’d quickly learned that women were disposable
goods in Myanmar.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you of his plans,” said Shwe Nat. “You could
have come at the same time.”
“We haven’t spoken in weeks. I was wrapping up my operation in
Afghanistan, and I think he had some business in Africa. Ethiopia, I think.”
“Yes, that’s what he said. He also told me that if anyone follows him
here, I should extend my full hospitality.”
Shwe Nat nodded to the three guards at his side. They came at Zack
with surprising speed for men so large. Zack got in a straight right, his palm
extended flat to break one fellow’s nose, but the other two guards grabbed his
arms in steely locks. The first one grimaced as blood streamed down his chin,
then grinned and kneed Zack in the groin.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 121

The beating continued for another minute until Shwe Nat said something
harsh in Shan. The guards left off their kicks immediately, then dragged Zack
to a chair. They hauled him up and threw him on it. Zack slumped over, his
head lolling against his chest.
“Who are you really?” Shwe Nat demanded with the girl’s help. He
rubbed the stump where his right thumb should have been. “Are you DEA?
Or did they send a CIA spy? Adam Lindsey told me that they might.”
“A fed?” Zack rasped, then took a labored breath. If he couldn’t convince
Shwe Nat, his guards would start hacking fingers soon. This seemed to be a
favorite punishment in Myanmar. He’d seen numerous men with missing
digits. “Hell, no. I sell heroin… My operation’s… the second biggest… on
the whole east coast. You can check me out… Ask any American who’s in the
business… Maybe Adam’s the one working with the feds. Did you ever think
of that?”
Without another question, Shwe Nat nodded. Obviously, they trusted
Adam Lindsey. They weren’t going to believe anything Zack said. Not without
making him suffer pain and terror first.
Zack sucked in a ragged gulp of air, trying to steel himself for what was
coming. Reflexively, his hands clenched into fists, but they weren’t going for
his fingers first. Instead, the guard with a broken nose yanked off Zack’s
pants. The only experience he’d had with aggressive questioning were the
annual polygraphs at Langley. Those were pretty tough, but nothing like
torture. He’d never gone through the full tradecraft course. He hadn’t even
done the sleep deprivation drill.
The guard poked the tip of his machete through the fly of Zack’s boxers.
Zack gulped another breath as the guard slashed.
Damn, that blade must be razor sharp. He hadn’t felt a thing. The
guard flicked his machete again. Zack looked down with dread, expecting to
see he was a eunuch. He was surprised to find his boxers had flown off. He
actually felt relieved to sit half naked, since they’d left what needed to be
covered up.
“Tell me now if you want to stay a man,” said Shwe Nat. “Why did you
really come here? Has your government made an arrangement with our
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 122

generals?”
“No,” rasped Zack, breathing hard. His eyes darted between Shwe Nat
and the machete’s blade. “I’m nothing to do with the CIA.” Which happened to
be true these days. “The DEA, either. They’re my enemy, too. Let’s be
reasonable. I can help you if we do business. My operation’s twice as big as
Lindsey’s. I thought he was a friend, but I see I was wrong. He’s lied to you, so
he can eliminate the competition.”
Shwe Nat nodded again. Zack threw himself back in the chair. He
wasn’t nearly as hurt from the beating as he’d pretended. Because the two
guards still pinned his arms, he hung there for a second. It was enough time
for a double kick into the first guard’s broken nose again.
Screaming like a chimpanzee, the man dropped his machete. When
Zack’s legs hit the floor, he kicked back even harder. He did a full circle,
twisting from the grasp of the two guards beside him. He crashed into one of
the hanging lanterns, feeling the heat of its flame. He got up immediately and
grabbed its wooden pole. The carvings of Buddha’s exploits on it made a good
grip for his sweaty palms.
Zack thumped the closer of the two guards in his gut, then cracked him
in the temple. This man went down hard, out cold. The second drew his
machete, but Zack spun and slammed his stave across the guard’s double grip.
He heard the snap of metacarpals breaking. The broken nose one reached for
his fallen weapon, but Zack knelt and did a long sweep with his stave, flicking
the machete off the deck and down the hillside.
Zack spun again and cracked the man’s shins, then jabbed him in the
throat with the butt end of his stave. This guard went down sputtering for air.
In truth, Zack was much better at kendo techniques than he’d let on at the
Taunggyi festival. With so much time on his hands these past months, daily
practice at his dojo was the only thing that kept him sane.
Drawing a Beretta semi-automatic from his cross-grip holster, Shwe Nat
fired. The pistol’s bullet struck Zack in the flank. As Zack clasped a hand
against the burning wound, Shwe Nat took careful aim for a second shot. Zack
was too far away to strike him with the stave, so he threw it like a spear. It
struck Shwe Nat in the arm, throwing off his aim. As the gunshot’s cracking
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 123

report echoed in his ears, Zack dove at Shwe Nat. A trail of red splotches
traced a line across the deck. Zack caught his enemy’s wrist before he could
shoot again.
They struggled for the weapon. Shwe Nat was much stronger than he
looked, and Zack was losing blood from the wound in his flank. Shwe Nat
backed him up against the railing. He said something in Shan, smiling
viciously. It probably translated as, “I expect you’ll look particularly
harmonious as your body bounces on the rocks.”
Gathering his last strength, Zack set himself for a Heaven and Earth
throw. He’d trained extensively in aikido, too. He shifted his grip to grab the
sleeves of Shwe Win’s expensive suit, but the drug lord countered this and got
the weapon free. Zack just managed to grab his wrist again, before Shwe Nat
could point the Beretta at his head. Zack slammed its barrel down against the
railing, making it come loose from Shwe Nat’s grip. He heard it clatter down
the hillside before it splashed into the lake.
At the same moment, he heard another noise, the soft rustle of Khin
Taw’s step. Looking up, he saw a second gun was aimed at his forehead. Then
all noise ceased with a deafening explosion.
When Zack’s eyes blinked open again, he saw Shwe Nat was gone.
Hearing a thud, he turned and looked over the railing. Down the hillside,
moonlight revealed the drug lord’s body lying broken over the shadowy shapes
of jagged rocks. When he turned back to Khin Taw, she calmly handed him his
pants. Embarrassed now, Zack quickly pulled them on.
While Zack held the gun, Khin Taw tied up the guard who sat cradling
his broken hands, then the other two who’d now begun to stir. She returned to
Zack and cleaned the bloody path of Shwe Nat’s first bullet. Then she stitched
the wound with a sewing needle and bound Zack’s flank with silk. The rice
wine that she used as a disinfectant stung worse than the gunshot.
“Silk’s very good for wounds,” she told him. “Something from the cocoon
prevents infection. We’ve used this treatment for centuries.”
“I’m sure it’s a very good cure,” Zack said. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll buy
some antibiotics when I get back to the Taunggyi market.”
“That’s what I’d do, myself. We aren’t primitive, you know.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 124

“No, of course not. I meant nothing by it. I’m feeling a little light
headed… Why did you help, anyway? I thought you were going to shoot me.”
“No, I saw my chance for revenge and took it.”
“You hated Shwe Nat?”
“Like any slave hates the man who owns her.”
“You were his slave?”
“Not legally, of course. The generals are smarter than allowing that. But
I might as well have been a slave. Shwe Nat bought me when I was fourteen.
By nineteen, he thought I was too old, so he replaced me with a new girl. Then
he only used me for entertaining guests. And translating, too.”
“Where did you learn English?”
“From my grandfather. He was foreman on a rubber plantation, back
when the English still were here. When I was a child and he was too bent to
work, he’d sit with me in the shade, reading aloud from a book he treasured.
That must be my earliest memory. I was three or four, sitting on Grandfather’s
big, safe lap, looking at the pictures while he read Robinson Crusoe.”
“I read that as a child, too. It’s wonderful.”
“We read it so many times, I can still recite the best parts word for word.”
“And you got all your English just from Robinson Crusoe?”
“Of course not. Most years for my birthday, if we could afford it, my
father would buy me another book in English. I read Huckleberry Finn and All
Creatures Great and Small and three of the Harry Potter stories. We’d listen to
the radio, too. There’s an English language service that comes from India. My
father thought it was a good idea for me to learn, since I have no brothers. As
the oldest daughter, it would be up to me to support my parents in their old
age. Father knew that speaking English is a very useful skill with tourists.”
“But how did you wind up sold to a drug lord?”
“My parents and little sister were killed in the fighting. The government’s
been trying to exterminate our Karen people ever since the British left. I was
taken by the army, then sold to Shwe Nat. If I’d tried to leave, he would have
cut me into pieces.”
“What about these guards? Will they hurt you now that Shwe Nat’s
dead?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 125

“They might. Or Shwe Nat’s son, when he takes over. That was him who
drove to the refinery.”
“Then I’d better take you with me before he returns.”
“Yes, please, Mr. Burris. Where will we go?”
“I came to find out what’s happened to my daughter. Shwe Nat was
right, I’m not in the heroin trade. And I am pursuing Adam Lindsey. I think
my daughter came here with him.”
“She did. Not at first, but she came searching for Mr. Lindsey, too.”
“Really? I thought he brought her to Myanmar. What’s happened to
her? Did they kill her?”
“No, she’s alive.”
“Oh, my God. That’s wonderful to hear. Where is she?”
“I didn’t see her, myself, but I had to translate as Lindsey and Shwe Nat
discussed her. She was caught at the refinery. The guide who’d brought her
was killed after he attacked the foreman. Your daughter was hurt and Shwe
Nat said they should kill her, then dump the body. Lindsey refused, so Shwe
Nat promised they’d get a doctor for her. He said they’d let her rest here while
Lindsey took the first shipment to America. But Lindsey insisted on taking
your daughter with him. I don’t think he trusted Shwe Nat.”
“Why? Did he think Shwe Nat would sell her?”
“Maybe. But if you ask me, Mr. Lindsey is in love with her. I could hear
it in his voice.”
“Where did they go?”
“I’m not sure. Your daughter had a bad concussion, but Mr. Lindsey
didn’t wait for the doctor. He must have been in a great hurry. Actually, he
could have used a doctor, too. He’d been in some kind of fight or accident.
There was an ugly scrape on his forehead and he walked slowly like it gave him
pain. He came here on an airplane that landed on our lake.”
“A sea plane? The kind with pontoons instead of wheels?”
“Yes. I forgot the word… He couldn’t carry your daughter, himself, so
he had these guards take her down the hill to the airplane.”
“You have no idea where they went?”
“No.” Then, after a second, Khin Taw’s face brightened. “Except, I heard
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 126

him make a call before he left. He spoke in Russian.”

“You don’t know this language, too, do you?”
“No, but I’m sure Mr. Lindsey was speaking Russian. Twice before, Shwe
Nat had Russian guests. They used English for the meeting, but when they
spoke among themselves, I heard what it sounds like.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 127

15

With Khin Taw, Zack returned to Yangon. She had a surviving uncle
who’d come here. He still lived in Yangon the last she’d heard. She had no
number, and it proved impossible to find him through the telephone directory.
He’d been a rice farmer, but Khin Taw had no idea how he earned a living in
Yangon.
Zack asked if she’d accept a loan until she found her uncle. He couldn’t
afford much, but even a few hundred dollars was a fortune here. Khin Taw
could rent a room for eight dollars a month. And her English was excellent, so
she should be able to find work as a guide or translator. If she never found her
uncle, she shouldn’t have to resort to a karaoke job.
Still, Zack felt uncomfortable to offer her the money. What if she thought
he expected something in return? He felt embarrassed enough that she’d seen
him stripped of pants and boxers on Shwe Nat’s deck.
Khin Taw graciously accepted the loan, making a deep wa of respect.
She understood that Frank Burris wasn’t the sort of man who took advantage
of young women. She wished that he’d asked her to come with him. Maybe
fate would steer them together in the future, after Frank found his daughter.
She asked for his address, saying that she’d like to practice writing letters in
English. Zack saw no harm in giving her his personal e-mail, kendo77
@hotmail.com.
After he got Khin Taw settled into a comfortable boarding house in one of
Yangon’s safer districts, Zack left the country. There was nothing more that he
could do in Myanmar. He couldn’t even get a dependable internet connection,
let alone a secure one. When he reached Singapore, Zack set to work tracking
Adam Lindsey. There’d been no flight plans filed, of course. No indication of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 128

how Lindsey entered Myanmar. Or where the sea plane came from. Zack
never learned about Lindsey’s escort, the two Zaghawas, who by now were back
in South Sudan.
But Zack had discovered three things in Shwenyaung. Genna was alive.
Lindsey had taken her someplace. And he’d spoken in Russian to someone
just before departing.
If Lindsey spoke Russian, he hadn’t learned it in high school or college.
Zack called back Dr. Sunderland’s secretary at Duke, told her that Adam’s list
of courses also seemed to be missing from the Fulbright committee’s records.
He learned that Adam had passed a proficiency test in Spanish, so he’d been
excused from the History Department’s requirement to take an upper level
language class. Then, Zack checked with the school secretary in Monrovia,
Alabama, who said that Zack had taken four years of Spanish, but Russian
wasn’t offered there.
Zack guessed this meant that Adam had learned Russian from his
parents. He remembered that the secretary had previously told him the
Lindseys were immigrants. Maybe they’d changed their names from something
Slavic.
“Do you happen to know where the Lindseys came from originally?” he
asked. “My daughter’s been seeing Adam, but now they’ve gone missing.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Adam was such a nice young man. Smart
as a whip, too… If I recall, I heard once that his parents came from Georgia.
Not ours. I mean the one in Russia.”
“Oh. Is that where Mr. Lindsey took his wife for burial?”
“I assume so. He just told people that he was taking her home.”
Zack thanked the woman for her help, then called his ex-secretary Ann
Hennessy. An hour later, Ann e-mailed back the information. Immigration
was under the control of Homeland Security now, but the State Department
still had access to INS records. Edouard and Ruslana Lidvaradze had
emigrated from Tbilisi in 1985. In 1986, prior to Adam’s birth, they’d legally
changed their names to Ed and Roslyn Lindsey. They’d became U.S. citizens in
1990.
Zack found no further reference to the names Edouard and Ruslana
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 129

Lidvaradze. Which wasn’t very odd, since they’d left behind the Georgian last
name long before the Internet entered widespread use. But there was little
footprint for Ed or Roslyn Lindsey, either. Just a few brief mentions connected
with their jobs. Other than Mrs. Lindsey’s participation in the Monrovia PTA,
they’d belonged to no organizations that Zack could find.
It also seemed strange that they should speak Russian at home,
considering they were Georgian. Yes, many citizens of the USSR’s former
republics used Russian as a second language, especially professionals, but it
hardly seemed likely they’d teach it to a son born in the United States.
Whoever Adam had spoken to in Russian when Khin Taw overheard him,
it wouldn’t be his father. Surely that conversation would have been in English
or Georgian. Zack rechecked one of the listings he’d found for Ed Lindsey. It
concerned an EPA inspection of the chemical plant in Huntsville where Adam’s
father used to work. When he spoke to Tom Rice, Ed Lindsey’s former boss,
Zack learned that Lindsey had quit suddenly. Rice knew nothing of Mrs.
Lindsey’s death.
“No way,” he said. “Ed would’ve told me. I would’ve been invited to the
service. I wasn’t just his boss. We were good friends.”
“So what do you think happened? Did he go back to Georgia? Not the
state, the country.”
“Georgia? That’s not where Ed’s from.”
“He’s not?”
“Nope. He’s from Azerbaijan. Told me all about it once. See, my wife
likes Oriental carpets, and I wanted to buy her a nice one for our silver
anniversary. So Ed helped me pick one out that came from there.”
“You haven’t heard from him since he left, have you?”
“No, and I sure wish he’d call. I’d like to rub it in about us winning the
bowling championship last month. Ed was a heck of a sharp guy, but between
you and me, when he bowled on our team, he really stunk up the lanes.”
So the Lindseys didn’t come from Georgia. What did this mean?
Lidvaradze was a Georgian name, and they’d entered the United States as
Georgian citizens. Now, apparently Ed Lindsey had returned to his birth land,
but was it to Georgia or Azerbaijan?
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 130

And was his wife really dead? There’d been no funeral. What’s more,
Zack’s next five calls produced no evidence of a death certificate. None of the
funeral homes in Monrovia had handled the body. There’d been no
arrangements made to ship a casket to either Georgia or Azerbaijan in the last
three months. But why say she’d died if she was still alive? It seemed
especially suspicious. Maybe Mrs. Lindsey had been murdered and buried in
the woods. Or maybe she’d returned alive to the old country, but not
voluntarily.
If so, what did this have to do with Adam and Genna? Zack wondered if
she was being held at the same place where Mr. Lindsey had taken his wife.
Maybe it was his father that Adam had called. In the picture with the fencing
trophy, Adam was blond and blue eyed. He called back Tom Rice and got a
description of Ed Lindsey. Yup, Adam’s father was blond and blue eyed, too.
Certainly not an ethnic Azerbaijani. If the Lindseys really came from there,
they’d be Russian transplants. The republics had been full of these. Russian
speakers used to hold all the best jobs and positions of power.
Zack called the U.S. embassy in Baku. He’d once worked with the
deputy chief of station Marta Wesley. He asked Marta to put a trace on the
names Edouard and Ruslana Lidvaradze. He doubted it would do much good.
If they were in Azerbaijan, they wouldn’t use their Georgian names.
Zack knew no one at the embassy in Tbilisi, but he called there anyway.
When he finally got connected to a staffer, he asked the man to check phone
books for the name Lidvaradze. He said it had to do with the Wall Street
bombing’s investigation. He threw around some names of people high up at
State, disclosed enough information to make the inquiry sound official. It
turned out there were no Edouards or Ruslanas with the surname Lidvaradze,
but Zack wrote down six numbers. Maybe he’d find a relative.
But he spoke no Georgian, and four out of the five he reached were
unable to respond to his Russian. The one he talked to was a young woman
who said that no one in her family was named Ruslana or Edouard. Two hours
later, Marta called back with the information that no one surnamed Lidvaradze
or Lindsey had entered Azerbaijan in the past year.
This was getting Zack nowhere. He had no choice but fly to Moscow,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 131

then Baku. If he came up dry in Azerbaijan, he’d search Georgia for Genna,
too. He tried to book a seat on an evening flight, but couldn’t get a ticket on
short notice.
He called Galina Demskaya, whom he’d known well in Moscow. Formerly
a cryptologist, she now ran a travel agency in Brooklyn. Happy to do a favor,
she got him on that evening’s Aeroflot nonstop to Sheremetyevo. Though he
should have visited a hospital before departing Singapore, there wasn’t time.
Khin Taw’s stitching and the Chinese antibiotics he’d bought in Taunggyi
would have to do the job.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 132

16

Adam waited in the customs line for non-nationals at Pierre Trudeau.

Security in Montreal was every bit as stiff as in the United States. This was
only his second trip to Canada, and he wondered if this degree of tension was
the norm. Probably not – in the Wall Street bombing’s wake, the airport must
have been placed on maximum alert.
He saw armed guards circulating with bomb-sniffing dogs. Somewhere
nearby, there’d be drug-detecting dogs, too. Still, Adam felt confident that he
had nothing to fear. They wouldn’t smell a single molecule of heroin on him.
He’d never been the least bit tempted to try the stuff. His packages were
double wrapped in polyurethane, then sealed in foil.
They’d been prepared a week ago, and he’d bathed every day since. The
packages weren’t with him, anyway. He’d followed none of the customary
procedures of drug couriers. He’d avoided the usual routes of Miami, New
York, Los Angeles, or Seattle. He’d rejected Mexico City as an external
destination, because crossing into Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, or California
with heroin would have been a foolish choice. He’d flown to Montreal from
Oslo. The packages were FedExed ahead under the label of a Norwegian
specialty foods exporter. Later, he’d pick them up at a branch post office.
So far, he’d stayed under the radar. As far as anybody knew, he still was
in Sudan. He’d gotten in and out of Myanmar without using a passport. Now
he traveled on a Georgian passport that Dad had arranged. The DEA couldn’t
possibly know about it. The only times he’d used this name were for the flights
to Oslo, then Montreal.
It was little known, but the DEA coordinated with the FBI’s Terrorism
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 133

Screening Center. A pattern had emerged over the last decade of jihadists
financing their assaults with drug running. Adam knew it worked like this -- a
Customs and Border Protection inspector would call the TSC about a
suspicious person on an incoming international flight. An FBI specialist would
immediately search computer files for this name, then make a determination
whether the passenger should be allowed into the USA.
Recently, Canada had launched a liaison program. The U.S./Canadian
border had become a prime entry point both for drugs and terrorists. But the
Republic of Georgia wasn’t a country on either watch list. And Adam had no
arrest record, so his description shouldn’t appear anywhere in the DEA or
TSC’s files. What’s more, this passport would hold up to any inspection,
because it was legitimate.
He felt glad that he’d managed to visit Dad. Unofficially, of course. Their
communications couldn’t be read, even if the DEA had some way to know the
e-mail address they shared. Since they’d always put their messages into the
draft file without sending, only account holders who knew the password would
ever see these. And the encryption they used was based on a random number
key that only Dad and he possessed.
The sole snag in his plan was Genna showing up in Taunggyi. Adam
hadn’t anticipated that she might follow him. Now he doubted that Murab had
followed his instructions. After Adam left with the other two Zaghawas to
Djibouti, Murab was supposed to call Genna using Dr. Adad’s phone.
“We’ve rescued Adam,” Murab should have told her. “He’s all right but
sleeping off the painkillers now. In the morning, we’ll leave for Darfur.”
Adam knew he’d been very clear in this instruction – Murab was
supposed to say the satphone had been broken in the fight, but Adam would
call when he could.
It was his own damned fault for leaving the message to a tribesman. The
Zaghawas’ comfort level with technology was limited to jeeps and rifles. And he
should have chosen one of the others. Though Murab had the best Arabic, he
was the least reliable of the three.
Damn those Acholis for stirring up trouble in the first place. This should
have gone smoothly, with Genna not expecting contact for a month. He’d
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 134

hoped to renew their acquaintance after this was over, but now he’d have a
hard time explaining things. He was at a loss for what to do. Adam was
ordinarily a peaceful soul, but the Acholis had gotten what they deserved. The
memory of their riddled corpses in the Sabemba clinic pleased him now.
Seeing Mom had pleased him, too. She seemed much happier. At first,
she’d been unwilling to go along, but Dad had always been persuasive. Sooner
or later, Mom always came around to his viewpoint.
In fact, Genna and Mom had taken to each other very well. Before
leaving, he’d seen them sitting on the ground beneath the pomegranate tree,
leaning close like two sisters sharing secrets.
“Please accompany us to the office, sir,” a guard’s loud voice interrupted
Adam’s thoughts.
He blanched, standing perfectly still while searching for any possible
escape route.
“No, don’t put the head down, sir,” instructed the guard. “We’ll need it in
the office.”
Adam felt the contents of his bowels turning liquid. He had to clench his
buttocks, or he would have soiled himself. What head were they talking about?
Did they mean the tourist guide U Win’s? How could they possibly know about
this?
Then Adam heard a dog’s soft whine. As he turned to look, the guard
was scratching an Alsatian’s neck. The dog quieted, satisfied with this small
acknowledgement of praise. Beside them stood a man in his late twenties, with
a three day growth of stubble, red rimmed eyes, and wrinkled clothes. Under
his arm was a large wooden head.
Adam had seen such pieces when he’d vacationed in Jamaica with his
college girlfriend Liz. Locals set up blankets on the beach, selling all manner of
wooden statues and figurines to tourists. Liz, in fact, had brought home a
giraffe that came up to her shoulder. A very handsome piece, stained different
shades of brown in patchwork squares. It was too big for her luggage, so she’d
had to check it in separately. Now Adam knew exactly what was going on. He
turned back around, allowing his heart to slow.
This burnout tourist with the wooden head was smuggling weed or coke
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 135

inside it. He must have hollowed out the head, thinking he was very clever,
but the dog had easily smelled his stash. Adam pictured shelves full of
confiscated heads inside the inspections office. Of all the dumb fucks. He
couldn’t have fit the profile of a drug smuggler more exactly.
Adam moved up in line, took his turn when it came, showed his
declaration card to the customs officer, spoke French with a Russian accent,
opened his neatly packed suitcase, got through in two minutes. He was well
dressed, well spoken, and well groomed, in transit from a city regarded as safe.
He took the Metro to McGill University, then looking very much like a
grad student, he visited the nearby post office branch. It was mid-afternoon
and the place wasn’t crowded. He spent a few minutes in the line, bought
stamps, satisfied himself that the box wasn’t under surveillance. Then he
retrieved his packages and left.
No one noticed Adam. He’d only been here once before. He stopped at a
McDonalds to eat. In the rest room, Adam transferred his packages to the
suitcase, then continued to the Trailways station. He paid cash for a ticket to
Phillipsburg, near the northern tip of Lake Champlain.
After arriving at dusk, Adam visited a storage facility on the southern
outskirts of town. He left his suitcase in the locker he’d rented last year, but
kept both passports and the packages. He stepped outside to make sure no
one was in sight. Then he carried an ultra-light hang glider up the hill that
rose behind the complex.
He’d chosen tonight because the weather was clear, with a near full
moon and light winds from the north. He’d scouted out an excellent take off
slope, and also a safe landing field on the Vermont side. This time of year, it
would be fallow and snow-covered. Made for a soft landing. For years, he’d
gone hang gliding with Jake in the Piedmont hills of North Carolina. This
terrain was similar. Additionally, he’d practiced night landings until he felt
confident he could perform one flawlessly in an unfamiliar location.
Adam reached the top of the hill, prepared the hang glider, put on his
harness and helmet, secured both packages underneath the straps, hooked in,
then took off. There was a car waiting for him in Swanton, Vermont. Nothing
should go wrong now.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 136

Adam’s landing was a little rough. An updraft tipped his wings just as
he’d done a stall into the landing. He tumbled for twenty yards across the field
before coming to a stop. He’d taken a face full of snow and his torso ached
beneath the binding.
Serves me right for hang gliding with cracked ribs, he thought.
He checked himself for further injuries. Other than a rip in his jacket’s
sleeve, there was no damage. But the packages had fallen out. By the time he
found them where he first struck the ground, a dog was barking. The noise of
his landing must have reached the farmhouse. Or maybe his scent had drifted
on the breeze. He hurriedly folded up the glider, then carried it to the road.
Finding a good spot, he left the glider and his packages in some scrub. Then
he walked about a mile into the quiet town of Swanton.
His car was in the parking lot of an apartment cluster, just where he’d
left it months ago. He’d picked this place because there were no assigned
spaces, and no permit stickers on the other cars. He drove back to where he’d
stashed the glider and his packages, then took them to another storage locker
he’d rented here. He put the glider and his harness in this locker, then
removed his car’s rear seat to stow the shipment.
In the strong light from a mercury vapor lamp, he noticed that one of his
packages had an inch-long tear. Damn, he’d probably spilled some of the
heroin over the snowy field as he’d tumbled in his landing. Worse, it looked
like some moisture had gotten in. And bits of dirt, if he wasn’t mistaken. Shit,
he hated fuck-ups…
To tell the truth, it didn’t matter much. Someone might discover his
tracks in the snowy field, but they’d never guess he’d arrived via hang glider.
And they certainly wouldn’t find a small amount of white powder sprinkled
across the snow. As for the delivery, he was only responsible for being on time.
Unlike most drug deals, no one would be worried about purity or exact weight
in this case. He adjusted the foil to cover the tear. Then he loaded in, replaced
the car’s rear seat, checked his road map, and got underway.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 137

Adam drove an average speed down Route 89. The car’s license plate
was from Vermont and it had a current inspection sticker. It was an ordinary
sedan, not a sports car. No reason he’d be singled out for a traffic stop. Just
in case, he’d bought a radar detector so he’d know when there were cops
around. If he happened to get unlucky, he’d just hand over his documents and
be polite. He enjoyed driving fast, so he’d been stopped before. Nothing to
worry about. He was clean cut, sober, and the car wasn’t stolen, so it all would
be routine. A cop would have no reason to check the well of his rear seat.
All he had to do was drop the packages inside a rhododendron bush at
Sandbar State Park. It was on his way to Burlington. He’d planned the route
carefully. This way, he wouldn’t come in contact with the recipient. The man
would never see him, wouldn’t know who’d made the delivery, but could
confirm it came on time. Dad had taught him to do as much as possible
without sharing information. No one else knew his itinerary, or how he’d leave
the country undetected.
Adam left Route 89 ten minutes later, drove to the park off Route 2 on
the shores of Lake Champlain, found the overlook deserted, dropped the
packages into the middle of the rhododendron bushes, got back in his car, and
drove away.
It had been mid-afternoon when he found this spot a week before his trip
to Ethiopia. He remembered that there were some people taking pictures, but
he’d waited until they left, then checked out the bush. It was so thick, you
couldn’t see into it. Yeah, someone might decide to take a whiz here – in fact,
the recipient might use exactly this excuse to stand beside the bushes – but no
one would spot the packages if they weren’t told what to expect.
Adam got back on 89, continued to Concord, New Hampshire, where the
highway merged with 93 heading south. He listened to all-news stations to
pass the time. The broadcasts still were filled with details of the Wall Street
bombing, the resultant manhunt, funerals and tributes for victims, and
rebuilding of the Stock Exchange already underway. He reached Boston by ten
that evening, and Baltimore by six the next morning.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 138

17

Zack had no luck showing Ed Lindsey’s picture around Baku’s

petrochemical plants. The photo came from Lindsey’s former boss in
Huntsville, an informal shot of the department bowling team. If Adam’s
parents had indeed returned to Azerbaijan, Zack’s best chance to find them
was if the father had found work as a chemical engineer. The major industries
in Baku were oil refining and petroleum based products. He tried all day, his
aching flank still bound with Khin Taw’s bandage, but no one recognized the
photo.
Zack had been to Baku once before. When the pipeline deal went
through in the heady days of Yeltsin, Zack was part of a U.S. delegation. He
remembered one of the Azeris in particular, Slava Mukhammedov. A shrewd
man with a forceful manner, he’d been Geidar Aliyev’s security specialist. An
ex-KGB man, he’d also merged black market operators into an efficient
syndicate. Which meant he was the man that western investors needed to see
if they wanted the flow of oil to run smoothly.
These days, with Aliyev dead, and his unpopular son Ilhan in charge,
Slava had left the government to run his organizatsiya full time. It controlled
labor, drugs, gambling, prostitution, and everything black market in Baku.
Zack went to visit Slava at his villa. It sat atop a promontory at the
extreme tip of the Apsheron Peninsula. After Zack passed inspection by the
guards, Slava showed great pleasure to see him. The pipeline deal that Zack
helped broker in the nineties had made Slava an extremely rich man.
He greeted Zack in the Azeri fashion, a crushing bear hug, followed by
kisses on both cheeks. Now Zack sat with Slava on a terrace high above the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 139

Caspian, enjoying beluga fresh from local sturgeon caught earlier that day.
After their second lemon vodka, Zack explained about Genna’s disappearance
and why he’d come to Azerbaijan. They spoke in Russian, both men fully
fluent.
“You’re not giving me much to work on,” Slava grumbled. “A man and
woman who may have left in eighty-three, whose first names might be similar
to Edouard and Ruslana.”
“And their surname may start with the letter L. They used Ed and
Roslyn Lindsey in America. Their Georgian papers had them as Edouard and
Ruslana Lidvaradze. So their Azeri names might be similar. Or they could
have ethnic Russian names. They’re both blond and blue-eyed.”
“Yes, that might make it easier to find them. Most of our Russians have
gone home. We don’t get many who left and then return.”
“Could you have someone check the records? Say, for arrivals over the
last three months.”
“Certainly, my people could do this. I owe you a large favor. But who
should they check for? American tourists, or returning citizens? Or this blue-
eyed couple could be Georgian immigrants.”
“I don’t know. That’s all I have. Except, the wife may not have come
here willingly. Supposedly, she died in the U.S. and her husband was bringing
her body home for burial. I don’t think it’s true, but you should check for this
possibility, too.”
“That part’s easy. Such a thing would need a permit.”
“But if I’m right that she’s alive, she may have been heavily drugged. I’d
check for women arriving in a wheelchair. Is that possible?”
“Absolutely. Ilhan Aliyev is paranoid about spies and assassins. He’s
insisted that our customs staff keep very detailed entry records.”
“Good. How long will it take?”
“You Americans – always in a hurry. Calm down. Take a swim. My pool
is heated.”
“Sorry, Slava. I know we have a reputation for boorish manners. It’s
richly deserved, and I’m no exception. But it’s hard to stay calm when my
daughter’s missing.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 140

“No apology necessary. I know how it is. I have a daughter, too. And
many enemies… Don’t worry. It should be quick.” Slava’s broad face
spread even wider as he flashed his jagged teeth. “I bet you thought I meant
Azeri time. I could see you ask yourself if ‘quick’ means you might wait days.”
“It crossed my mind.”
“I don’t blame you, my friend. But even here, life’s become a high speed
chase. Now that our rebellious territories have quieted, and the oil money’s
flowing in, Baku’s become a modern place. We’ve computerized our records.
Excuse me while I call someone to search them for you.”
Slava got out his cell, connected on speed dial, spoke briefly in Azeri,
then turned back to Zack.
“There, no problem. In the meantime, are you hungry? My cook is
excellent. After your swim, you should try his lamb with tangerine and figs.”
“Thank you, that sounds wonderful. I’d forgotten what great hosts you
Azeris are.”
“My pleasure. Perhaps some day I’ll come to Washington and your cook
will delight me.”
“Uh, certainly,” Zack said.
In this part of the world, he’d never been able to persuade his hosts that
most Americans weren’t rich. They assumed that government officials must be
rolling in it. Though it was public knowledge about his forced resignation,
Slava would never believe he had no servants, let alone that he was struggling
to pay his bills.
“Except in Washington, we have many fantastic restaurants,” Zack said.
“It’s usually our custom to entertain our guests in public places.”
“Ah, yes. In Moscow, too. But there’s nothing like a good Azeri feast…
So tell me, when you find these people, what will you do?”
“I suspect their son Adam brought my daughter here. I think she’s
injured, and like the mother, I doubt she’s free to leave.”
“And if she’s with them?”
“I’ll bring her home. But if she isn’t, I need to ask Ed Lindsey what he
knows about this. Or whatever his name is now.”
“Sounds like you could use an escort.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 141

“Thanks for the offer, but I hope that won’t be necessary. I’m a private
citizen now. You may have heard what happened in Islamabad.” Slava nodded
gravely, so Zack continued. “I’m in a very difficult position. No offense, but if
there’s trouble, I can’t be associated with your people.”
“I understand.” Slava frowned. “At least take a weapon with you.”
“Thank you, but again no. I don’t like guns.”
Zack couldn’t explain. The only person he’d ever told about this was
Julianna, and he regretted doing so. Zack’s thoughts flashed once more to his
father’s body lying in the study. The .44 had dropped onto Dad’s desk and
pointed to the V where Dad had signed his note. Zack had always imagined it
was the weight of living up to that V that made Dad do it. He’d flushed the
note before Mom came home, got out Dad’s cleaning supplies, pressed Dad’s
fingerprints into the handle of his gun brush, dropped it near Dad’s hand. The
coroner had been a family friend. He may have suspected, but he ruled the
shooting an accidental death.
“I wish that everybody disliked firearms,” said Slava. “I always
considered you a man of peace. I admire you for it. We could use more such
men in this violent world.”
After the lavish lunch was cleared away, Slava’s man called back. He’d
discovered no recent entries, but there was a record of an Evgeni and Raisa
Kovanov emigrating in 1985. Maybe it was the same couple, keeping their first
names for familiarity. Their place of residence was listed as Kuba.
“Is that a typo for Baku?” Zack asked. “I do that sometimes when my
mind is elsewhere. Someone must have switched the syllables as he typed.”
“No, we have a large town called Kuba,” Slava said. “It’s about a
hundred kilometers northwest of Baku.”
“What kind of place is it? Are there refineries or chemical plants? This
guy’s a chemical engineer.”
“The main work there is textiles.”
“I don’t think textile mills use chemical engineers. Unless it’s for the
dyes.”
“It wouldn’t be about his work. They’re Jews, I’d say.” Slava’s tone was
disapproving.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 142

“Those aren’t Jewish names, are they?”

“Doesn’t mean a thing. Happened all the time in Soviet days. Besides, if
it’s your pair, they’ve changed names often.”
“But why do you think they’re Jews? Because they left when Gorbachev
opened the window?”
“Not only that. The Kuba district’s where you find them in Azerbaijan.
We call them mountain Jews.”
“So if it’s them, why would they return here now?”
“That’s the question. And what does it have to do with your daughter’s
kidnap?”
“Do you know of any drug activity in that region?”
“No. But if you discover any such thing, I want to hear about it. I won’t
tolerate anyone who doesn’t pay my share.”

For two hours, Zack drove his rented car over the coastal road to
Khachmas. The air was very mild, though it still was winter. He kept his
windows down, and while it was uncomfortable to drive such a distance with
the wound in his flank, he enjoyed the salt breeze from the Caspian. He
passed long stretches of cotton fields, the crop picked months ago, but it was
obvious what grew here because wisps of cotton clung to fencing. Further on,
Zack saw men carting hanks of tobacco leaf. Curing sheds lay open to the
bright sky, their canvas rolled up on this warm, dry day. He’d quit smoking
twenty years ago, but the aroma was so rich, it almost tempted him to start
again.
After another twenty minutes, Zack turned inland toward Kuba. Now the
road’s condition deteriorated rapidly as it rose into the mountains. But the
scenery was beautiful, orchards cut back after the autumn fruit was picked,
tiny villages with thatched houses, shimmering peaks in the distance poking
into a sky so blue it looked like deep lake water.
Kuba itself was a large town, with many long mill buildings. They
spouted steam from brick smokestacks. There were also several mosques with
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 143

high minarets. Passing through, Zack saw no synagogues or men whose

appearance marked them as Orthodox Jews. It seemed as Azeri a town as any
other.
Slava had mentioned there was a silk works among the mills. It sounded
about right -- the surrounding hillsides were covered with neat rows of bushes
that Zack guessed were mulberries. And many of the women dressed head to
foot in brightly patterned robes of silk.
Zack hadn’t engaged a guide to take him here, since most Azeris spoke
some Russian. He wondered how you’d go about asking where to find the
mountain Jews. The record found by Slava’s man only listed Kuba, not a
detailed address. The Kovanovs might have lived anywhere in this district. He
found his way to the town hall, wasted two hours trying to get someone to
search old records, finally discovered there was no one surnamed Kovanov in
birth, death, school, or voting documents.
Zack wound up getting directions from a friendly imam. He described a
tiny place where he’d known the rabbi for forty years. He even drew a little
map to a village high up in the mountains.
Zack rattled over a narrow track for the next hour as the temperature
dropped steadily. The road was more rocks than pavement, but he finally
reached a settlement of ten buildings. One of these was in fact a synagogue,
but no one was inside.
An hour later, Zack found its rabbi supervising at the slaughter of a
yearling lamb. Dressed in a quilted jacket and fur hat, he looked like any of
the other five men standing in front of a trough for dipping sheep. His steel
gray beard was long and thick, but his facial features were typical of the
Caucasus. The men were speaking in Azeri. If he hadn’t seen the synagogue,
Zack would have never guessed these people weren’t Moslem peasants.
In Russian, Zack explained his search. The rabbi didn’t recognize the
names Evgeni and Raisa Kovanov. Zack showed the picture of Ed Lindsey’s
bowling team. Also, a picture of Adam’s mother. He’d printed it from a photo
accompanying the on-line notice of her memorial service. The rabbi took a
good look at both pictures, but said he didn’t know these people. Even in her
fifties, Adam’s mother was a strikingly beautiful woman. She reminded Zack of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 144

the ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, whom he’d once seen perform in Moscow.
Anyone who’d known Adam’s mother as a young woman would remember
those luminescent eyes.
“Did anyone emigrate from here in nineteen eighty three?” Zack asked.
“That’s twenty-five years ago. You ask a lot of an old man’s memory.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to. It involves my missing daughter. Can you help
me?”
“In that case, let me think.” The rabbi picked his knife up from the
crush that led into the dipping trough. He slowly ran it back and forth along a
sharpening steel. “Many have left because life is so hard here. We can barely
scrape enough together to hold a service. Kovanov, you say? That isn’t
Jewish.”
“It could be changed from anything. But they seem to keep the same
initials.”
“They look Russian, if you ask me.”
“Yes, I thought so, too.”
“Our people here, they came a different route, up from Iran a hundred
generations past.”
The conversation continued for another hour, the rabbi tracing the family
histories of many mountain Jews. Some had been here for a thousand years.
When the rabbi finally noticed that his friends still waited with the
struggling sheep, he shrugged and then excused himself. Zack thanked him
for the history lesson and got back in his car. It was getting dark as he rattled
down the mountain road.
Thinking over his day, Zack decided that these mountains were a very
unlikely place to find Adam’s parents. Both were highly educated people.
Besides, he’d seen no ethnic Russians living in this district. He’d have to go
back to Baku and start over. Then try Georgia, too, with about as much
chance of success. In the end, he’d have to do what he’d been dreading. Go to
Julianna, get her to enlist the President’s help. Brad wouldn’t lift a finger for
his oldest friend, but he’d do it for his mistress.
As Zack reached a flat stretch of the mountain road, a truck swung
around the next bend. In the twilight, Zack recognized its headlights and its
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 145

shape. An old Kama from the Soviet era. Unlike Russian cars, their trucks
were damned reliable. Maybe he could get the U.S. franchise. That should
ease his financial worries. Zack’s lips tipped up at the thought’s absurdity.
Now he heard the Kama’s motor over the lower pitch of his rented car. It
was coming at him very fast. Zack got over to the right, because the road was
narrow. But the truck veered at him sharply. Zack blasted his horn. It did no
good. The truck angled even more in his direction. Zack could see the driver
now, his balding forehead leaning over the steering wheel, his tight lips, the set
of his determined jaw.
This guy meant to force him off the road. They were only yards apart,
when Zack pushed his door open and tumbled out. The truck’s fender
crunched into the empty sedan’s side, sent it up on two wheels, then off the
road and down the rocky slope. Zack was rolling, but got a look as his car
bounced on a boulder. It came down on its roof, bounced another time, caught
on fire, and cart-wheeled like a Catherine wheel he’d once seen at a Russian
festival. Seconds later, it exploded in a burst that briefly made the ravine light
up like a spot-lit stage.
As the mountainside settled into dusk again, Zack climbed to his feet.
He knew the collision was intentional. The expression on the driver’s face had
made this clear. A well planned hit. Nothing personal, but necessary.
Who knew he was here? Slava Mukhammedov was the only name that
came to mind. But this made little sense.
What motive would he have? And why not simply kill me at his villa?
Who else knew about this? Zack remembered that he’d made an inquiry
through the U.S. embassy. But what interest would they have in killing him?
Or had the orders come from Brad?
Zack listened for the Kama. He stayed still for minutes, but heard no
sounds that weren’t part of nature. Dark had settled quickly and he saw no
glow of headlights from around the uphill bend. The Kama had simply
thundered past after knocking him from the road. Now the assassin probably
had orders to continue to the village, find the rabbi, ask what Zack had wanted
there. Though his knee ached badly from the spill, and his flank was worse
than ever, Zack lurched down the road as fast as possible. It was another
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 146

three kilometers to Kuba and he doubted that he’d get a ride. He had to reach
the town before the truck returned.
Almost immediately, he heard its engine coming back. Zack got off the
road and hid beneath an overhanging ledge. The Kama’s driver must have
been told to produce evidence that he’d killed Zack. It made more sense. What
would they care if a dead man had learned something from the rabbi? A body
or at least a photo was what they needed. Zack knew he couldn’t get far down
the slope with his injuries. The driver would catch up to him after finding no
corpse in the burnt-out car. This slope was mostly rocks. There was no forest
to provide cover.
Zack climbed back onto the road. The driver spotted him and gunned
his motor. Zack waited until the truck was thirty feet away, then flung the
rock he’d pocketed. About as large as a baseball, it hit dead center in the
windshield, shattering the glass. But the Kama kept on coming.
Ten feet from impact, Zack threw his second rock and dove.
The Kama passed the spot where he’d been standing. Not slowing at all,
it missed the curve. It went bouncing down the hillside, then pitched into a
roll. There was no explosion this time.
Ten minutes later, Zack found the driver still alive. The truck’s
headlights and motor still were on. Zack turned off the ignition, then flipped
on the interior light. He saw blood dribbling from the driver’s mouth and a
massive bruise on his forehead. Whether from the crash, or from the second
rock, Zack would never know.
Until this moment, he hadn’t thought it possible for his mood to sink
lower. The crumbling of his marriage, Julianna’s affair with Brad, his old
friend making him a scapegoat for Islamabad, the end of his career, his
blighted reputation, and worst of all, his fear for Genna’s life. But now a man
was dying because of him. That he’d been marked to die, himself, didn’t seem
nearly a good enough excuse. About Zack’s age, the guy probably had a wife
and children. It brought back all the thoughts of Dad’s untimely death.
For thirty-five years, he’d refused to let the scene focus in his mind.
Now, it flooded back with brutal clarity. The fist sized hole in the back of Dad’s
skull, the gore of his brains splattered on the wall. The surprisingly small
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 147

droplets of blood that had seeped down on the table.

He’d only been fourteen that afternoon he’d found Dad’s body. It struck
Zack that he’d never had a purely happy day from this moment on. Before
Dad’s suicide, he’d been a normal kid who liked to roughhouse with his
friends. Afterwards, he’d only wanted to stay inside. He’d spent his free time
doing chores for Mom or reading late into the night. At school, he’d become a
straight A student, driven to excel.
The truth was, he became a loner. Other than Brad Yates, he’d formed
no close friendships during the remainder of his teens and his entire adult life.
Oh sure, he’d been well liked in Russia, and in Poland, Hungary, and
Czechoslovakia before that. But never in America. It was as if he distrusted
the motivations of his own countrymen. They might seem friendly, but
underneath, they seethed with the same self-absorption that destroyed Dad’s
will to be there for his family.
Standing beside the Kama’s wreckage, Zack realized that his father’s
death explained nearly everything about the man he’d become. A private man.
A man obsessed with doing the right thing. He’d even chosen a career that
guaranteed he wouldn’t follow in Dad’s steps. Because he’d spent most of it
outside the U.S., he’d never needed to buck the pressures of American success.
Or of an American marriage, either.
Julianna wouldn’t be wrong to claim he’d sabotaged them from the first.
A shrink would say he never wanted to risk losing love again. So he’d chosen
exactly the course guaranteed to prevent the relationship from flourishing.
He’d driven away Julianna before she could do it to him. Which of course
ensured she’d leave him devastated.
He’d done it all his life. He never went to reunions. He hadn’t set foot in
Darien, Connecticut since he’d graduated high school. He rarely visited his
scattered siblings. Hell, he saw his own mother once a year, on a Christmas
trip to Taos where she’d moved. Now he realized what had caused this
distance between them. He blamed her for the pressure that Dad felt. No, that
couldn’t be right. Dad’s need for prominence had been his own decision.
And what about my needs? Zack had to ask himself. Didn’t this need to
escape America keep me from being the father Genna deserved?
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 148

A loosened rock bounced down the hillside now, bringing Zack’s

attention back. There was still enough light to see an automatic weapon that
had fallen to the floor on the truck’s passenger side. Not wanting to touch it,
Zack opened the door and used a piece of broken trim to flick it out. Then he
rolled up his jacket and put it under the driver’s head. He saw a plastic bottle
also on the floor. He smelled its contents. Tea, not alcohol. He held it to the
dying assassin’s lips, waited while the man took a sip.
After setting down the bottle, Zack searched the man’s pockets for a
wallet. Not that he expected to learn a name. Whatever documents this man
carried, they’d be false. But there might be a picture of loved ones. He found
the well-creased photo, a middle aged woman with kind eyes, a little girl with
her mother’s rich, red hair, an older boy with the same determined features as
his father. Zack held it up so the assassin might have a last goodbye in the
dim light. If the situation were reversed, he hoped someone would do the same
for him.
“Who sent you?” he asked in Russian.
The man murmured something in Azeri. Zack only knew a few phrases,
but he remembered how to say, “Boss man.” He asked it as a question.
“Poskyul ke chorta,” the man whispered.
It was the last sound he made. A Russian sound, Zack knew. A Russian
curse, meaning approximately Go to Hell.
“I’ll join you there,” Zack muttered. “But not before I find my daughter.”

Zack retrieved his jacket, limped into Kuba, took the evening bus to
Baku, then flew to Ankara that night. He knew better than to report his
“accident” on the mountain road before he left. Whoever had sent the Russian,
they’d have a harder time getting at him outside Azerbaijan. Failing to report
the Kama driver’s death made him a fugitive, of course. But the only thing that
mattered was staying alive long enough to rescue Genna.
Now he had no choice but to beg Brad’s help.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 149

18

Once he reached Ankara, Zack rented a car at Esenboga Airport.

Leaving the highway, he followed a circuitous route to the Anittepe Quarter.
He knew there was a CIA safe house here on Irmak Street, because he’d used it
once before. The key was still an inch down in a planter that contained a bitter
orange tree.
Zack went inside unseen. He hadn’t used the Burris documents, feeling
they’d been compromised in Azerbaijan. Besides his real passport, license,
and credit cards, he had one other set. Langley would learn he’d come here,
but Zack didn’t particularly care. He only needed the place for an hour or so
while he made some calls.
He reached Julianna on the first try. It was 6:10 a.m. in Virginia, but
she’d always been an early riser. Unlike most people, her mood usually was
best this time of day.
“Hello, it’s me.” He didn’t avoid saying Zack to shield his identity from
listeners. If there was a conscious reason, it was because he’d feel foolish to
use his name. Though their twenty-seven years of history were like the sodden
ashes of a ruined life, she wouldn’t stop knowing his voice. “Can you talk?”
“Of course… Why? Did you think I might have someone with me? I’m
not in bed, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Don’t say it, Zack silenced his spiking anger before he blurted something
harsh. He could tell from Julianna’s serene tone that this didn’t have to erupt
into another fight. Her opening shot was just old habit.
“That came out wrong,” he said. “I just meant, you might be doing your
tai chi.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 150

“I’m done. I was returning e-mails. Nothing that can’t wait. What’s up?”
“I need your help. It’s about Genna. I’m really worried. I still haven’t
been able to reach her. I’ve tried to find her, but no luck.”
“I told you. She’s gone to Singapore for a vacation.”
“That was a week ago. From there, she went to Myanmar -- you know,
Burma -- but she ran into some trouble. I followed, but I missed her by three
days and now she’s disappeared again. She’s still not answering her phone or
e-mails. Unless you’ve heard?”
“No, nothing since Christmas. What kind of trouble do you mean?”
“Trouble with this Adam Lindsey. It looks like he’s running heroin.”
“What? That’s crazy. Genna would never get mixed up with drugs.”
“Not knowingly. But this guy isn’t what he seems… Hey, if you haven’t
spoken since Christmas, how did you learn she went to Singapore?”
“I think you know. Do you really want me to say it?”
“Oh. You mean the information came from Brad. Did you ask him to
put a watch on Genna?”
“No, it was his own idea. You know he’s always considered himself an
honorary uncle. It’s just a flag on Genna’s passport, not the full Secret Service
treatment.” Julianna didn’t mention the phone mining. Brad had warned her
that this must remain a secret. “He does it for his real nephews and nieces,
too.”
“That’s different. They could be targets.”
“You should be glad he did it. Working overseas is dangerous.”
“Damn it, I know that better than anyone. Even before this Adam
business, I’ve worried about Genna every day. And it turns out I was right.”
“Why? What happened?”
“You mean Brad didn’t tell you that she went from Malaysia into
Myanmar?”
“No.”
“Then he probably doesn’t know. The Burmese dictatorship isn’t very
cooperative. Either that, or they’re too inefficient to track entry visas. And
when she left, it was a back door route.”
Zack laid out the whole story -- Adam’s deal with the drug lord Shwe Nat,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 151

the Burmese sex trade angle, Khin Taw seeing Genna carried onto Adam’s sea
plane, the information leading to Azerbaijan, the dead end in the Jewish village
near Kuba. He only omitted the attempted hit, in case it was Brad who’d
initiated it.
“But are you sure this Adam Lindsey’s holding her?” asked Julianna.
Her voice remained surprisingly calm. “It could be Genna’s choice. She always
was strong-willed. If she thinks that they’re in love, she’d go anywhere with
him.”
“God, I hope not. On paper, Adam looks like the perfect kid, but from
what I’ve learned, he’s someone very different. His parents aren’t what they
appear, either. I think Genna’s a captive somewhere in one of the former Soviet
republics. Or maybe in Russia, itself. I’m going to need Brad’s help to find
her.”
“Then call him. I know you had a falling out, but don’t let pride stop
you. You have to do whatever it takes to bring Genna home.”
“This isn’t about him making me the scapegoat! I hope to hell you don’t
believe that. If it helps me rescue Genna, I don’t give a damn if they drag my
reputation through the slime.”
“Of course you care. It’s obvious to everyone but you. Your sense of
honor always was your glaring weak point. No one ever said you had to restore
the Bowen name.”
“This has nothing to do with my father or my family.”
Zack only realized he was shouting when he saw his contorted face
reflected in the dusty glass covering a painting. But the damned thing was,
Julianna’s accusation wasn’t off by much.
“Whatever you say,” she answered in that genteel tone she accentuated
during arguments. “Just call Brad, if you care about Genna, too.”
“That is such shit! I can’t believe you’d accuse me of sacrificing Genna
because of misdirected pride… The only reason I can’t ask Brad for help is
because he’s told his people not to let me through. That’s why you have to ask
him for me.”
“I have about as much chance getting through as you. Strange as it
might sound, I’m not on the list, either. Brad’s determined to keep us a secret.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 152

The only time we talk is the rare moments when he decides it’s safe to call.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s not a secret. Do you have any idea
how impossible it is for a president to sneak off somewhere without dozens of
people knowing? But if he’s got you believing that, then he’s betrayed you,
too.”
“He’s not betraying any one. He has his reasons.”
“I don’t care what Brad’s reasons are. As long as he can help us find
Genna, that’s all that counts. Whatever else there is between you, that’s your
business.”
“For goodness sake, you sound almost… bitter about it.”
“Almost? Do you really know me so little?”
Zack stared through a crack in the heavy drapes as he tried to make his
anger cool. Somehow, even with Genna’s life in danger, they were baring the
resentment they’d accumulated for a quarter century. Neither of them seemed
capable of stopping. Like the only thing they valued was tearing at each other.
From his window, Zack could see Kemal Ataturk’s columned mausoleum
atop its hill. On the street below, two women in long skirts and drab scarves
were toting canvas bags. Probably vegetables from the greengrocer down the
block. He’d noticed a fish market, too. He longed to have a different life, a
quiet one, a life where those you loved stayed close, where an evening meal
together was a pleasure you could count on through the decades.
“Hey, something just occurred to me,” he said to Julianna in a much
more level tone. “You said Brad has a flag on Genna’s passport.”
“Right.”
“But Adam Lindsey hasn’t traveled anywhere with her officially. I learned
that he came separately to Myanmar. So what made you think that they’re a
couple?”
“I told you. Genna and I had a long chat at Christmas.”
Now would be a good time to tell Zack the truth. She’d tried so many
times before… She couldn’t this time, either.
“And Genna told you all about this Adam? She’s never mentioned him to
me. She isn’t shy about that kind of thing.”
“Just what are you implying?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 153

“I find it hard to believe she’d tell you and not me.”

“Don’t be such an asshole! Damn it, you know I hate it when you make
me use that kind of language. But that’s exactly what you are.”
“I apologize. Really, I wasn’t trying to insult you. I’m only saying she’d
tell me if this Adam was someone important in her life.”
“No, you’re saying that she loves you more. You always have to get that
in. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I wasn’t saying that at all… Look, I’m sorry. I guess that’s another
thing that came out wrong. I’m just trying to understand about this Adam.”
“I’m sure Genna would have told you when she got the chance. She was
throwing me a bone, okay? Because it was Christmas, and we weren’t fighting
for once.”
“Fine. What are we arguing about anyway? The main thing is to get to
Brad.”
“Okay, I’ll try. What should I say?”
“Ask him to have Immigration’s records scoured. Justice and the IRS,
too. I need everything there is to know about Adam’s parents.”
“The Lindseys? I told you, they’re from Alabama. He’s a chemical
engineer.”
“They were only Ed and Roslyn Lindsey in the U.S. They came here on
Republic of Georgia passports in 1985 as Edouard and Ruslana Lidvaradze.
But I think they’re ethnic Russians, who may have lived in Azerbaijan as
Evgeni and Raisa Kovanov.”
“Goodness. This is starting to sound like one of your spy chases. Is it
something catching up from your past?”
“I don’t know.”
It stung to hear Julianna say it, but the thought had definitely crossed
Zack’s mind. First the American School massacre funded by opium profits,
now Adam’s heroin buy in Myanmar. And the Russian Caucasus was prime
territory for drug labs. Plus, Brad had an angle in this somehow. Why was he
keeping such close tabs on Genna, anyway?
“Just ask Brad as soon as possible, all right?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 154

Zack called Khin Taw next. Not recognizing his number, she answered in
Burmese, her voice as soft and musical as Zack remembered.
“Hi, it’s Zack Bowen,” he said. He’d told her his real name before leaving
Yangon.
“Oh, it’s so nice of you to call me. I’ve been saying prayers for you to find
your daughter. Has there been news?”
“No luck yet, but I think you’re right that Adam Lindsey took her
somewhere Russian-speaking. That’s why I called. These Russian guests of
Shwe Nat’s, do you remember their names?”
“I think so. Um, let’s see… one was called Dima and the other was
Alyosha.”
“Those are nicknames, short for Dmitri and Alexei. You never heard
their last names?”
“I wasn’t told. But I can describe them. Dima was very tall and
muscular. His hair was pale blond, very lank. His features were sharp, his
expression always ugly. His skin was a pinkish white, like it never saw the
sun. Alyosha was shorter, the same height as Shwe Nat. His hair was dark,
his mustache thick, his face was round and, uh, I forget the word. Strict,
displeased with everyone.”
“Dour?”
“Yes, exactly. And his nose tilted up so much, you could look into his
nostrils. He had so much hair across his chest and back, it was more like fur.
His hygiene was in need of much improvement… He had a tattoo on his right
shoulder. It was a double headed eagle clutching daggers in its claws.”
Khin Taw hadn’t said as much, but if she knew so many details of their
bodies, it could only mean that she’d been forced to sleep with both men.
“About what age were they?” Zack asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell with western men. I think they were like
you.”
At least she hadn’t said old. Dima and Alyosha could be anywhere from
forty to sixty. Zack would guess they were both ex-KGB. Many members of the
Russian mafiya were. And Zack recognized the description of Alyosha’s tattoo.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 155

It belonged to the biggest crime gang in southern Russia.

“Do you know anything else about them?”
“Just that they arranged a regular heroin shipment. They paid in
dollars. I saw Shwe Nat open the briefcases. It was millions. His son will
certainly continue trading with them if he can.”
“Thank you so much, Khin Taw. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
“It was nothing… Oh, I’m terrible. I haven’t even asked about your
injury. You had a doctor treat it, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Zack lied. “He said your first aid was perfect, your
stitches very fine.”
“No, I’m sure he was just being polite. I’ve never stitched a man before.
The sewing must have looked very crude to a doctor.”
“Not at all.” In fact, they were holding beautifully. Zack felt very grateful
to her. “But how have you been doing? Have you found your uncle?”
“Sadly, no. But I’ve found a job. The Pagoda Hotel’s hired me for their
desk because of my good English.”
“That’s great. I’ll have to stay there next time I come to Yangon.”
Zack didn’t say how much he’d like to see her. Or that she’d visited his
dreams the last three nights. That his imagination had wrapped itself around
their happiness together as the only thing that made sense out of life. But he
couldn’t tell her this. It would sound so foolish. They barely knew each other.
And much more to the point, it would be completely wrong, with Genna’s life in
danger.
Not to mention that Khin Taw wouldn’t be interested. She was half his
age, if that. Finally freed from a warlord’s possession, why would this beautiful
woman want someone like him? She might be nice to him out of gratitude, but
the best thing he could do for Khin Taw was leave her alone, let her fall in love
with some young, handsome, and trouble-free guy.
“Yes, please,” she said. “Come to the Pagoda and you will be my guest.
It will make me happy to repay your generosity.”
She bit her lip, wishing that she could say more. But Khin Taw was at
heart traditional. In her Karen village, a girl would never say how much she
wanted to be with a man. Still, there was a blooming glow of warmth within
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 156

her. He’d called, and maybe he would come. If he’d only wanted repayment of
his loan, he would have simply sent a mailing address. If she ever saw him
again, there were ways to let this good, kind man know he would be welcome in
her heart.

Zack e-mailed Yuri Trebin, an old contact from the All-Russia Trade
Federation. He gave Khin Taw’s descriptions of Dima and Alyosha, hoping
Trebin could produce information about the pair. In Soviet days, the CIA had
easily pegged Trebin as a colonel in the KGB’s first directorate. He’d been one
of Zack’s favorite people in Moscow, a champion drinker and an excellent
singer, though he had a taste for woefully depressing ballads. Now, Trebin was
second in command of an organizatsiya based in Volgograd, the city of his
birth. He’d have a good handle on other crime gangs in southern Russia.
Zack felt safe to contact Trebin for two reasons. One, he’d helped
Trebin’s son and daughter-in-law emigrate to the U.S. ten years ago. Trebin
had offered a sizeable fee, but Zack did this as a favor. The second reason was
better yet. Trebin hated Putin. Despite the fact they’d worked in the same
department early in their KGB careers – or more likely, because of it. Some of
the Russian crime gangs had strong ties to the government, and most of the
rest paid “contributions,” but Trebin’s organizatsiya supported the opposition.
This meant the odds were very good that Trebin wasn’t linked to the interests
who’d commissioned Lubov’s murder.
Zack went outside and walked to the greengrocery. Here he bought some
olives, leeks, and fennel. From a fruit stall down the block, he selected plump
Anatolian pears, Kalamata figs, and Muscat grapes the color of dark wine.
They’d make a salad worthy of an oil painting. Not far down the block, the
fishmonger sold him some nice mussels. He brought these back to the safe
house, found spices, rice, and olive oil in the pantry, soon had a meal bubbling
away. Within minutes, the kitchen filled with a delicious aroma.
Before he sat down to eat, the tone indicated a text sounded on Zack’s
satphone. The uplink wasn’t secure, he knew, but he didn’t care. He’d be gone
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 157

before they traced him here.

I’ve identified your two men, Trebin wrote in Russian. Anticipating this,
Zack had enabled Cyrillic text on his satphone. I’ll tell you who they are, but
there’s something I need.
I have no more green cards, Yurik. In case you haven’t heard, I’m no
longer popular at State.
No, it’s something else. I realize that I owe you already. But I need this
very badly.
What?
An old friend of mine, her daughter’s been forced to work in a Turkish
brothel. I need you to bring her out.
Is this a joke?
In the first place, he’d never told Trebin that he was in Turkey. And why
did brothels keep turning up in his search for Genna?
No joke. It happens often nowadays. Russian girls get tricked into going
abroad for a supposedly good job. They aren’t told it’s prostitution until the pimp
already owns them. My friend – she was my first sweetheart when we were
growing up – her daughter Lyusha’s only 17.
And you know where she is?
Yes. Ankara.
Why don’t you just buy her back?
I’ve tried. It took 3 days to arrange a meeting, then the pimp canceled
twice, and didn’t show up the third time. This guy doesn’t trust anyone from
Russia. He’s been burned before.
Then send a squad to get her out.
I would, but girls have been killed because rescuers got close.
Use a professional. Someone who can get in and out without drawing
attention.
I was about to, but you’re better. You aren’t Russian. They won’t suspect
you. You can just go as a customer.
All right, I’ll try. Where’s she being held?
I don’t have an address. These brothels change locations constantly.
They aren’t legal in Turkey. But the pimp’s name is Esref Gokuglu. He frequents
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 158

a coffee house near the Haci Bayram Mosque.

Okay. What about the girl?
Lyusha’s very pretty, petite with long blonde hair. She looks younger
than 17. I’ll e-mail a picture. Don’t use her name, just ask for this sort of girl.
And if I find her?
Bring her to me in Volgograd. I’ll have your information.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 159

19

Zack found the coffee house in Ankara’s old quarter of Ulus. The
building looked like it might go back to Byzantine times. The street was so
narrow, he had to leave his car three blocks away. As he walked the twisting
route, it wasn’t hard imagining he was in ancient Rome or Constantinople.
Inside the coffee house, Zack waded through a thick cloud of cigarette
smoke. When he reached the counter and asked for Esref, the proprietor’s only
reply was a brief shrug. Zack found a customer who spoke English, but the
man denied knowing Esref. The clack of dominoes died suddenly as the other
customers turned to scowl. Zack left and roamed the quarter, drawing more
shrugs and scowls at other smoky coffee houses.
At the Bazaar of Coppersmiths, Zack continued asking. Most of the
shopkeepers spoke some English, but he still had no luck. He was scolded at a
stall that sold dried fruits, then chased out of a very aromatic spice shop.
Finally, he bought a piece of antique embroidery that he knew Julianna would
love. It was her birthday in three days, but he doubted that he’d see her. He
wondered if he’d ever have occasion to give the embroidered cloth to her. He
only haggled a little, letting the proprietor have nearly his full price.
The proprietor’s satisfaction showed clearly from his jutting teeth
beneath a walrus mustache. Taking advantage of this, Zack asked if he knew a
man named Esref Gokuglu. The Turk scowled like the others Zack had asked.
But as he wrapped Zack’s purchase, he pointed to a stall selling carpets down
the street.
“That man cousin drive taxi. Always, he know where find Esref.”
It wasn’t easy, but not as bad as Zack expected. By the end of the day,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 160

he knew where to go. He’d bought an antique prayer rug, a real bargain if he
wasn’t running out of money. Then the carpet seller sent him to the Sheraton,
where he waited for the cabbie Mehmet to appear.
When Zack found him half an hour later, Mehmet made a call, then took
him to the Atakule Tower. He didn’t ask for an exorbitant tip. Probably, he
was on retainer from Esref for sending customers.
The Tower was a landmark in Ankara’s modern section of Yenisehir. It
looked like an ornate sphere sitting on top of a massive golf tee. Esref wasn’t
here, but another phone call established that he was having dinner in a
restaurant near the German Embassy.
They drove to it, then Mehmet waited while Zack went inside. It was an
elite place, full of well dressed people. He’d noticed that most Turks favor
casual attire, but not high level businessmen and politicians. Some had wives
or girlfriends with them, wearing designer gowns and diamond necklaces.
Which looked completely wrong to Zack. These people wouldn’t mix with
pimps. At least not publicly.
Zack played along. He understood it was a blind. He spotted the waiter
who was eyeing him. He didn’t break his cover as a tourist. He spoke loudly to
the maitre d’, received a very disapproving sneer. Ignoring it, he turned to
gawk at a beautiful young woman at the nearest table. He never gave a sign
he’d made the waiter, just continued staring down the young woman’s low cut
dress. When the maitre d’ repeated that no one named Gokuglu was dining
here tonight, Zack huffed a bit, then left. He noticed that the waiter had gone
into the kitchen with a cell phone in his hand.
Back in the taxi, Mehmet announced there’d been a misunderstanding.
Esref wasn’t eating here after all, but was meeting friends at The Anatolia in
Ulus. When they arrived, this proved to be more like it. A boisterous, smoke-
filled place, definitely not for the elite. Asking for Esref, he was pointed to a
table full of six disreputable looking Turks.
From Mehmet’s description, Zack knew the thin-faced one with a shaved
head was Esref. He and his friends sat laughing loudly and drinking arak, the
remains of their dinners pushed aside. Zack had no doubt that he’d found
Esref, but the set-up still was wrong. An ordinary customer wouldn’t go to this
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 161

much trouble to approach a Turkish pimp. He’d have to play it extra sleazy.
“I’m told you have a very special girl,” he whispered in Esref’s ear.
Mehmet had said that the pimp spoke English. “A beautiful Russian blonde,
looks like a child.”
“I have many girls,” said Esref aloud, not caring that his friends would
hear. “But as you see, I’m busy now.”
“I’ll pay very handsomely. My friend told me she can bend in two.”
“Ah, I know the one you mean. It’s true, she bends just like a tiny
gymnast.”
“I must have this girl. I’m only in Ankara one more night. I have to leave
tomorrow morning.”
“I charge double for this one. Usually. But since it’s a rush and I’ll have
to cancel her regular client, you’ll have to pay me triple.”
“Agreed.”
“Tell Mehmet to take you to the flat on Kemal Pasha Prospect.”

When they reached the building, Zack told Mehmet not to wait. He
walked slowly to the entrance, while Mehmet’s cab departed, but Zack didn’t go
inside. He’d need his rented car nearby for an escape. He waved down another
taxi, took it to Irmak Street. Getting into his car, he noticed that he’d forgotten
to take his antique carpet and the package containing Julianna’s present
upstairs. But he didn’t have time, so he left them in the back seat, and
returned to Kemal Pasha Prospect.
He didn’t come armed, because it would be apparent if he had to
undress. Since it was a wet night, he carried a large umbrella. He closed it
outside the entrance, then rang the buzzer. He waited in the doorway, out of
the rain. It was one of the newer buildings in ancient Ulus, probably from
Ottoman times.
He was admitted by an unusually large Turk with a much scarred face.
The guy looked like an ex-boxer, but he hadn’t gone to fat. His shirt seemed at
least three sizes too small for his powerful physique. Zack wasn’t patted down
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 162

or searched. It was obvious that customers never gave this guy trouble. You’d
have to be crazy, eager for a beating. Instead, the Turk greeted him politely,
took his coat and umbrella, hung them on a hat stand. Apparently, Zack was
expected. Esref must have called ahead.
“Where’s the girl?” Zack asked in English. He didn’t know a word of
Turkish.
The large Turk sat back on his wooden chair beside the door. A sleek
Angora cat jumped onto his lap. You saw these everywhere in Ankara, since
they were native to it. On Zack’s last visit, someone told him that the city’s
original name was Angora. Long before it became the capital, the place was
famous for its long-haired cats and goats.
“Do I go upstairs?” Zack tried again, “Or will she come down here?”
The guard simply continued to stroke his cat. Obviously, he spoke no
English. Zack coughed, since the place was very musty, smelling like it was
never cleaned.
“Hareem?” Zack tried.
He waved his hands in an hourglass shape, very much the clueless
tourist. And then the leering John, he made the universal sign. He even added
sound effects as he thrust his right index finger through a circle made by his
left hand.
“Ah, Masha,” the Turk said. He pointed up the stairs.
“No, that’s not her n--” Zack stopped mid-sentence. He wasn’t supposed
to know Lyusha’s name. But it didn’t matter. The Turk hadn’t understood
him. He still was pointing up the stairs.
A tiny blonde girl stood at the top, dressed in a limp negligee. She didn’t
look much like the picture. This wasn’t the right girl. Zack breathed heavily
through his mouth, registering his disgust. Now he’d have to start all over.
The guard waved him to proceed up the staircase. Zack shook his head.
How do I tell him I want a different girl? he wondered. Maybe Esref specialized
in tiny blondes. Maybe Lyusha was here, too. He decided to go upstairs and
have a look around.
Zack forced himself to seem eager as he started up. At the top, Masha
still waited, looking as bedraggled as her sheer, stained teddy. As he
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 163

approached, Zack saw her face was heavily made up. She wore far too much
rouge and eye shadow, looking like Genna had one time at age five or six, when
she’d gotten into Julianna’s cosmetics. But when Zack stood beside Masha,
closer inspection showed the make-up covered deep bruises. And then as he
peered hard, Zack recognized her striking face, though it was very puffy. This
girl did indeed resemble Trebin’s e-mailed picture. He took her hand and let
her lead him down the hall.
He heard grunting from the first room they passed. Through its half-
open door, he saw a naked man mounting a girl from behind, with his hands
around her throat. Welts covered the girl’s ample flesh and a wire coat anger
was sitting on the mattress. Zack flushed with anger, but managed to stay
silent.
He pushed the door open quietly, picked up a lamp, and crashed it over
the man’s head. This one had the face of a boxer, too, with a flattened nose
and cauliflower ears. He fell off with a groan.
Zack turned to listen for the big guard coming up the stairs. The hallway
was silent. He felt a bit surprised, but then again, the noise he’d made by
knocking out this guy was little more than the usual thumps and grunts
coming from these rooms.
When Zack turned back, the buxom girl was looking at him. She made
no attempt to cover herself. There was a dull look in her eyes, either drugs or
hopelessness. She merely stayed kneeling on the bed, as if she expected Zack
to take the naked man’s place.
Zack bound the guy’s hands with the lamp’s cord, then tied him to the
bed frame with a twisted sheet. He stuffed a grimy pillow case in the guy’s
mouth as a gag. He found male clothing scattered on the floor, checked the
pockets, found a clasp knife and a cell phone, stuck them inside his jacket.
“Are you Russian?” he asked the girl.
She shook her head yes. She didn’t question that he spoke her
language. Her lips looked bruised and painful. She’d turned, and now was
sitting on the edge of the bed. She still was naked, and had she not been
striped with welts, she would have been beautiful. Since the girl didn’t seem
the least embarrassed, Zack didn’t avert his gaze. This damned business kept
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 164

pushing him into whorehouses, so he might as well get used to it. But he had
to fight away the thought that Genna might be sent to one, too.
“Get dressed,” he said to the girl. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Her name’s Anetka,” said the petite blonde from behind Zack.
He’d almost forgotten why he’d come.
“Lyusha?” he asked softly.
“They call me Masha here,” she answered. “Who are you?”
“Your mother’s old friend Yuri Trebin sent me. They were childhood
sweethearts in Volgograd.”
“Yes. She often speaks of him.”
Zack followed Lyusha into her room. Her swollen face turned suddenly
hopeful. She sat down on her bed. Thank God she didn’t start peeling her
clothes, like Lin Mei at the Golden Tiger. He already suspected that the girl
was more to Trebin than the daughter of an old friend.
“You speak Russian very well. For a foreigner, I mean. Where are you
from?”
“I’m American. But I worked in Russia, sort of with Trebin.”
“My mother says he’s a big man in the mafiya. Are you buying me?”
“No, I’m here to bring you home.”
“You’ll still have to pay Esref. I heard him refuse an offer of ten
thousand Euros from another pimp.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Then you’ll have to fight Osman.”
“The one downstairs? Does he have a gun?”
“A knife. A very big one. He cut Glinka so bad one time, they took her
away. I never saw her again.”
“Is he the one who beat you?”
“No, that was Esref. I didn’t want to… I don’t know the word for it.
Except for the choking, what Suleiman was doing to Anetka.”
“You don’t have to say it. I understand.”
“It’s not so bad. I do it all the time now. Better than getting beaten up.
Or getting cut.”
“That’s not going to happen again… Are there any more men here?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 165

“No, just Osman and Suleiman. You came on our slow night. It’s Friday
evening prayers, you know. When it’s slow, that’s when the guards take their
turn. And later on, Esref visits, too.”
“Not any more. You stay upstairs while I take care of Osman. Then
come running when I whistle. Tell the other girls they can come, too.”
“There’s only one more girl. But she won’t want to leave.”
“Why not?”
“Olga ran away from a different pimp last year. She made it home to
Kiev, had an abortion there, then went back to her factory job. But she hated
it even more than before. She says at least we eat well in Ankara and the flat is
always warm. So she found the recruiter, the same old woman who brought
her to Turkey the first time. The same one who brought me, except she tricked
me into thinking it was for a good job as a secretary.”
“Tell Olga, anyway. She’s welcome to come with us if she wants to
leave… Just be ready when I whistle.”
Zack talked with Lyusha for another ten minutes. It was long enough,
he judged. Then he went downstairs, a satisfied smirk on his face. He reached
into his pocket as Osman put down the cat and rose to his feet. He felt the
clasp knife he’d taken from Suleiman, but brought out his remaining cash
instead.
As the Turk counted it, Zack took his umbrella from the hat stand. He’d
bought one with a particularly stout handle made of gnarled wood. Osman saw
him swinging it and tried to duck, his hand already on his knife. But Zack had
anticipated this and changed the umbrella’s arc mid-flight. He felt the wound
in his flank split wider as the umbrella’s handle thunked into Osman’s
forehead. Damn – just when the wound was starting to heal from Khin Taw’s
careful first aid.
The blow wasn’t enough to knock out Osman, but as he reeled, Zack
reversed the umbrella and gouged its tip into his solar plexus. The Turk
grunted in pain, but still did not go down. His boxer’s build had protected him
from severe damage. He slashed his knife, but Zack jumped back. Dropping
the umbrella, Zack grabbed the hat stand. His coat fell onto the floor as Zack
blocked another vicious slash. Time to end this quickly before that butcher’s
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 166

knife connected.
Zack stuck his shoe under the coat and flung it up at the Turk’s head.
While Osman’s sight line was obscured, Zack smashed the hat stand into his
temple. Osman collapsed into a heap. Zack was tempted to bash him once
more for the vanished girl Glinka, but he didn’t need a murder charge.
Instead he whistled sharply. He remembered teaching Genna how to do
that. As the girls came scampering down, he checked Osman’s respiration.
The Turk would stay unconscious for a while, but he’d be okay. Zack took his
knife and cell phone, too.
“Where do they keep your passports?” he asked Lyusha.
“There’s a safe. But it’s at Esref’s house.”
“Do you know the way?”
“I was only there once, on my first day. After they all, you know, raped
me, I was too upset to pay attention when we drove here.”
“Never mind. We’ll improvise when we get to the border.”
“Okay.”
“Is the other one coming?”
The fleshy girl Anetka stood beside Lyusha, but Olga hadn’t come
downstairs.
“She wants to stay. I tried to tell her you’re all right, but she prefers this
life to going home again.”
“Does she have a cell phone?”
“Of course not. We aren’t allowed to make calls. There isn’t even a
regular phone in here.”
“Okay, we have to go.”
“I’ll call her parents when we get to Volgograd. Maybe they can do
something.”
“Good. You and Anetka follow me. I have a car outside.”

They returned to Irmak Street. Luckily, Zack’s parking spot remained

vacant, a block from the safe house. Though it hurt to move fast, he hurried
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 167

the girls inside. In the morning, they’d drive west to the port city of Trabzon.
There, he hoped to find the captain of an ore freighter. The CIA used him for
extractions. Maybe he could convince the man he still had leverage.
Zack set down his packages, then checked the telltale bit of thread he’d
left high along the door jamb. Seeing it was undisturbed, he used his key to
enter. In rapid Russian, the girls chattered behind him, their moods frenetic
now that they felt safe. After flicking on the lights, Zack found himself staring
at a familiar face.
He couldn’t think of the man’s name at once. But he recognized the
Makarov pointed at him. Obviously not standard CIA issue, but many former
station hands had brought them home for souvenirs.
“How’s it going, Zack?” asked the Makarov’s owner.
And now with the deep voice, its tone almost theatrical, he had it. This
was Gray Colquitt, who’d graduated from Moscow to run the Afghanistan desk
at Langley. He’d heard Colquitt was brilliant, with an IQ off the charts.
Insiders said that Deputy DCI Clark was grooming him to take over Operations.
They’d spoken only a few times previously, because Zack had already gone to
Armenia by the time Colquitt came to Moscow. Their only contact since then
was Colquitt’s threat soon after the American School massacre. Zack could
still remember Colquitt’s exact words:
“If you go to the press with Lubov’s tale of nuclear diversion, we’ll turn
his ninety kilos of plutonium into heroin.”
Zack had certainly believed him. Colquitt enjoyed a reputation of being
one of the hardest men in all U.S. intelligence. When it came to interrogation,
people likened him to a modern Torquemada. It wasn’t that Colquitt had a
taste for hurting prisoners. Usually, he didn’t hurt them physically at all. No
humiliation tactics, either. No religious desecration, sleep deprivation, or
assaults with loud music. No dogs. No water boarding. But he always
extracted the necessary information. Colquitt used what he knew would work
best. If it involved tailing a man’s family, promising the subject that he’d make
parents, wife, or children suffer, this lay well within Colquitt’s repertoire of
acceptable techniques.
“Your son’s a handsome boy,” he’d say. This particular interrogation
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 168

became a legend at Langley. Colquitt’s interrogation had been responsible for

folding up a cell about to strike with yersinia pestis, the organism responsible
for plague. “Those freckles alongside his nose give him the air of a mischief
maker. One that everybody loves, I’ll bet. Did you know he stops each day at
the tobacconist’s on his way home from school? Not for cigarettes, for
chocolate. Now, it’s true that either vice can kill you in the long run, but what
a shame if it’s your vice that kills him.”
Subjects always knew that Colquitt wouldn’t hesitate to carry out his
threats. They usually folded in the first hour, without a mark on them. Zack
doubted that Colquitt had ever touched a single prisoner’s family. Or that he
had the authority to do so. What mattered was that he was invariably believed.
Colquitt was either an extraordinarily good actor or, more likely, a very scary
man. His expression gave away nothing. In fact, he looked youthful, harmless,
like a former choir boy.
Another thing was notable about Colquitt -- he was one of the first
openly gay agents at Langley. When Zack learned this, he’d felt surprised. Not
so much that Colquitt was gay, but that sexual orientation wasn’t a disqualifier
any more. Back when he’d started, they used to vet agents and affiliates very
carefully about anything to do with sex. Apparently, this had changed during
the years he’d served abroad. But after all, it made perfect sense. A man who
made no secret about his preference couldn’t be blackmailed.
And now Zack remembered something else. The one time he’d refused a
CIA assignment, the request came from Colquitt’s mentor Clark. A year into
his posting in Moscow, they’d wanted him to have an affair with the
cryptographer Galina Demskaya. Far from a hardship, Clark assured him their
liaison would be a great pleasure. She was statuesque with startling, ice blue
eyes. He remembered Clark saying that Galina’s face must owe its beauty to a
long line of countesses. Her husband on the other hand had a face like a
squashed toad.
There was a simple explanation for this mismatched couple. Like
anywhere else, power counted for a great deal in Russian society. Mikhail
Demsky was high up in the Ministry of Defense. Zack had only seen this man
one time, but he knew Galina fairly well because she was his drinking buddy
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 169

Grigori Artsev’s sister.

As required, Zack’s report had stated that she flirted with him at a party.
This still was in the days of communism, when these contacts were taken very
seriously. But he’d told Clark that he wasn’t about to cheat on Julianna. No
matter how important Galina’s information about codes might prove.
Clark had put increasingly strong pressure on Zack to change his mind.
He’d thought his diplomatic career would have to end. But then he came up
with another way. Galina and Grigori had an older brother named Pavel who
wanted to defect. His own boss at the Russian Ministry of Trade was having an
affair with Pavel’s wife. He couldn’t divorce her or he’d be fired and disgraced.
So Zack had arranged an exchange of tours for U.S. and Soviet experts to
see each other’s grain processing technologies. Which happened to be Pavel
Artsev’s area of expertise. In exchange for the invitation, Galina sent along the
newest Russian code with Pavel. In their last meeting, Galina told Zack she
would have gladly provided this code, even without his helping poor Pavlik.
She’d tried to seduce him, and he’d been forced to gently remove her hand from
his lap. Though he sensed the attraction was genuine, unfortunately it put the
validity of Galina’s code in question. It had been necessary to report this
contact, too.
After Pavel Artsev’s defection, they’d held him for years in an undisclosed
location. Zack could well imagine the grilling he’d endured. But then the
Berlin Wall came down and Russia shortly followed, so Pavel was released. The
beautiful Galina had joined her brother two years later. She often was at
Pavel’s house when they played chess together. She still flirted with Zack and
she still was single, the last he’d heard.
As he looked down the Makarov’s gray barrel, this repeated theme of sex
kept playing in Zack’s thoughts. That and drugs seemed to be the two
consistent connections between Genna’s disappearance and the people he
must outmaneuver. The main question was, why had Julianna’s request for
Brad’s help resulted in Colquitt’s ambush? Why had Brad taken time from his
extraordinarily busy schedule to track Genna and why didn’t he want her
found?
“How am I doing?” Zack repeated Colquitt’s words. He realized that the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 170

question must have hung there in the doorway for some time, but he had no
idea if it was seconds or minutes. “I’d feel a whole lot better if I didn’t have a
gun trained on my forehead.”
“Oh, this. Sorry.” Colquitt lowered the weapon. There was a contrite
look across his cherub’s face. “I’m here to brief you, not shoot you, Mr., uh,
Panelli. Is that the name you’re using these days?”
“Call me Zack. I swept the place this afternoon.”
“I swept again this evening. We’re all clear. But my point was, when I
heard noise from your, er, ladyfriends outside the door, I didn’t know who was
coming. That’s why you got my extra friendly greeting.”
“Oh. Guess I got sloppy. First rule, I should’ve checked the place out
carefully. But I was still on a high from my success at the brothel, so I wasn’t
expecting trouble. And then your replacement of the telltale had me fooled.”
“So you found these lovely ladies at a whorehouse?”
“They’re not here for what you think.”
“Look, it makes no difference to me how you get your kicks. Whatever
gets you through the night, I always say.”
Colquitt passed an appraising eye over the two battered Russian girls.
Then in fluent Russian, he suggested they might like to make themselves a
snack. He waved them toward the kitchen’s archway. He stood aside to let
them enter, waited for Zack to lug in his packages, then closed the door.
“I rescued the petite one for Trebin,” Zack said after the girls went into
the kitchen. “The other came along.”
“Yuri Trebin, who used to be First Directorate?”
“Right.”
Zack explained the situation as quickly as he could.
“I see. So you’ve narrowed down where your daughter’s being held?”
“I’m not sure. Those two Russians who bought heroin in Myanmar might
have nothing to do with Adam Lindsey. But it was my only lead.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’ve brought a dossier.”
“The President sent you?”
“Indirectly. But it’s a top priority, I’m told. We assembled the
information as quickly as we could.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 171

“Good. Let’s see what you have.”

As Zack read through the folder, he saw that he’d been right so far.
Adam’s parents had emigrated in 1985, entering the U.S. on Georgian
passports in the names of Edouard and Ruslana Lidvaradze. They’d officially
changed their names to Ed and Roslyn Lindsey in 1986 shortly before Adam’s
birth, then gained citizenship in 1990. They’d been model citizens, as had
Adam. No legal problems greater than a traffic ticket, no tax audits, no
mentions anywhere in intelligence records.
The first suspicious incident was the report of Roslyn Lindsey’s death
without an accompanying death certificate. They’d left the country two months
ago on a flight to Istanbul, but Turkish records indicated they’d continued to
Baku. The last sheet was a transcript of interviews that Colquitt had
conducted with friends and coworkers. Like Zack, he’d spoken to Ed Lindsey’s
boss in Huntsville. He’d noted the conversation about Persian carpets. But
he’d also spoken to Roslyn Lindsey’s department chair at the county college,
who’d mentioned that Roslyn was a devout Moslem.
“Is she sure?” Zack asked. “They’re ethnic Russians, not Azerbaijanis.”
“She was positive. Mrs. Lindsey prayed five times a day. They had to
make allowances, so Mrs. Lindsey’s class schedule wouldn’t conflict. Mrs.
Lindsey also asked her boss to keep it confidential.”
“Why?”
“Because in Alabama, it would bring unwelcome attention on their
family.”
“They belonged to a church.”
“I’m aware of that. My guess is that they were secret Moslems during the
Soviet era, too. So they were used to keeping it private.”
“Yeah, but the question is, so what?”
“Come on, that’s obvious. In these times, we have to take it very
seriously. You know how the President feels about it. The news cycle has been
nothing but the Wall Street bombing for a week. It’ll go on for at least another
month and the President’s whole reelection’s based on his successes fighting
terrorism.”
“No one ever said these people are terrorists. The kid’s a drug dealer.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 172

The way the father’s acted, I’d say he is, too.”

“I don’t have to tell you, never assume anything. You’ve been in this
game a lot longer than me. If it looks like a duck, and walks like a duck,
chances are it quacks in Arabic when no one’s around.”
“So you’re thinking this is some kind of al-Qaeda plot?”
“We don’t know. And until we have more to go on, the President thinks
it’s best if you continue looking for your daughter. When you find her, we want
to hear immediately everything you learn about the Lindseys.”
“I’ll need money.”
“Done.”
Colquitt reached into his jacket and brought out a thick envelope.
“And two passports for the girls. Mine should be all right, but theirs
were taken. How fast can you come up with two Russian ones?”
“Give it an hour, then bring them by the embassy. I’ll have our
technician come in and get set up.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 173

20

They flew that morning from Esenboga Airport to Sheremetyevo outside

Moscow. Zack and Lyusha would continue on a flight to Volgograd while
Anetka took a train to her home town of Yartsevo outside Smolensk. Zack gave
her two thousand to make a fresh start. In Sheremetyevo’s concourse, he
bought Lyusha a new outfit to replace her soiled dress.
While he was at it, Zack bought a winter coat for himself. He’d packed
for Myanmar, originally, and besides, he felt conspicuously shabby. Everyone
in Moscow dressed well now. Even in the five years he’d been gone, the place
had become noticeably more prosperous. There might still be stark poverty in
Russia’s hinterlands, but billions of petrodollars were flowing into the capital.
He called Trebin before they flew to Volgograd. Ever cautious, Trebin
didn’t meet them at the airport personally, but sent a limousine with two
armed bodyguards. The driver took them into the city’s heart and let them out
in front of a monument known as The Motherland Calls. This crowned a
hilltop where the worst fighting had been during the Battle of Stalingrad. In
the otherwise flat terrain, Zack suspected that the hill was made from
bulldozed rubble. It might even be a cairn for the millions who’d died here.
But it was a nice day with a cheery sky. The air was warm in southern
Russia. There were many people strolling on the paths that laced the hillside.
Zack recalled that Trebin had always favored public places. In front of the
soaring monument, a wedding party posed for photographs. Two more parties
waited just outside the shadow cast by Mother Russia’s raised sword. He’d
seen similar traditions in both Moscow and St. Petersburg.
Trebin approached them as they walked up the hill. He was flanked by
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 174

another pair of bodyguards. He embraced Lyusha briefly, made a tsk-ing noise

over her swollen face, kissed her on the forehead, then sent her back to the
limousine.
Finished with these duties, Trebin turned to Zack. His deep-set eyes
were heavy with suspicion. Either he thought Zack was responsible for
Lyusha’s bruises, or worse, that Zack had slept with her in the course of
visiting the whorehouse. But Trebin said nothing as they regarded one
another.
Finally, he clasped Zack in an embrace. They exchanged kisses on both
cheeks.
“Thank you for retrieving Lyusha,” he said. “Her mother will be very
pleased.”
“I was glad to do it. We brought home another girl, too.”
“You always were a good man, my old friend. It’s wonderful to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too… So what have you found out?”
“Those two men you described, they work for Oleg Smertev. His gang’s
known as the Komitet. They’re all ex-KGB.”
“Really? The one called Alyosha wears a tattoo of a double-headed eagle.
The old czarist symbol.”
“Smertev modified it for their gang. Alyosha’s full name is Alexei
Mikhailovich Kalikov. He runs Smertev’s drug operations. The other one’s his
bodyguard, Dmitri Ivanovich Lebdiev. They’re both hard men, veterans of
Afghanistan, then interrogators for the Second Directorate. Whatever business
you have with them, you should avoid it.”
“I have no choice. My daughter’s vanished. She became involved with
an American drug runner named Adam Lindsey. I think he’s had some
dealings with these men.”
“They’re based in Rostov, but I wouldn’t recommend you go looking for
them alone.”
“Could you set up something for me? Maybe lend me two of your men?”
“Sorry. Smertev is one of my worst enemies. There’s been far too much
bad blood between our gangs for him to trust anyone I send.”
“I’m not talking about trust. Someone sent a Russian to kill me in
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 175

Azerbaijan. I’m assuming that it might be Smertev.”

“Did the assassin have the same tattoo?”
“I don’t know. I killed him, but I didn’t check. I didn’t learn about
Kalikov’s tattoo until a day later.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the hit attempt was Smertev’s doing. The only
thing that matters to that vicious prick is money. He’ll kill anyone who tries to
cut in on his territory.”
“I’m only here to save my daughter.”
“Yes, but Smertev always assumes that anything unusual is a plot to
hurt him. His motto is that old expression, ‘It’s better to be the hammer than
the nail.’”
In the end, Trebin agreed to lend Zack a driver. He chose the
organizatsya’s newest man, so Smertev’s people wouldn’t know who’d sent
them. Trebin also phoned a police detective whom he kept on retainer. He
learned that the heroin runner Alexei Kalikov had left Rostov yesterday.
Kalikov was now in Sochi, vacationing at a resort called Cherny Vod. This
meant Black Water, after its famed mineral springs.
Sochi was a good deal further south than Smertev’s base of Rostov, so
the drive took practically all day. Despite Russia’s improved economy, the
roads were no better than Zack remembered. They bumped along for 500
kilometers over a two-lane “highway” so sprinkled with pits, it looked like acne.
At last they reached the resort city of Sochi near the Georgian border.
Though snow-capped peaks of the Caucasus loomed in the distance, it was
even warmer here than Volgograd, something like Hilton Head in March. The
driver Boris cruised up and down Sochi’s seemingly endless beachfront. The
brooding Black Sea lived up to its name.
Boris was obviously lost, but claimed he knew exactly where to find
Cherny Vod. Zack had never been here, but he’d heard stories from his
Moscow friends. Sochi used to be the place where the elite in Soviet society
vacationed. They always made it sound like communist paradise on the Black
Sea. Stalin’s famous dacha had been built here, anchoring the Russian
Riviera.
Now, the hotels gleamed as brightly as anything in Vegas, new
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 176

construction was expanding spas and sanitaria into palaces, there were tiki
bars down on the pebbly beach, sparkling yachts docked at two marinas, and a
new casino jutted on a pier over the water. As they passed its entrance, Zack
saw three young women wearing furs and jewels get out of a limousine.
“Admit it, you don’t know where to find the Cherny Vod,” Zack said to
Boris.
“I thought you’d like to eat first,” Boris answered petulantly. “I’ve heard
good things about this one.”
He pulled into the nearest lot.
“The Yerivan? It sounds Armenian.”
“Why not? They have good brandy.”
“Oh. You mean we need a drink, not food.”
“Of course. If you drink, you die, but if you don’t drink, you still die. So
it’s better to drink – that’s what I always say.”
“Good thinking, Borya.”
What the hell, Zack thought. He felt starved. He hadn’t eaten anything
since a packet of stale Russian chips on the flight. Besides, inside the Yerivan,
he could ask directions to the Cherny Vod.
The meal proved excellent, a heaping plate of shashlik and the stuffed
grape leaves called dolmi. He managed to keep Boris to two glasses of plum
brandy with the meal and a vodka chaser with dessert.
“Everyone knows you can’t drink water,” Boris had explained. “It isn’t
vodka, after all.”
Actually, Zack had learned early on in Moscow that the literal translation
of vodka is “dear little water.” But before Boris made too much of a happy
reunion with this blood of life, Zack got directions from the waiter and steered
his driver out. They reached the Cherny Vod with only two wrong turns. Zack
told Boris to wait in the car. Their short association suggested Boris would be
much more of a hindrance than an asset in this meeting.
He asked at the desk if Alexei Kalikov had arrived.
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. “Yesterday. The courtesy phone is over on that
wall.”
“What’s his room number?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 177

“I’m afraid I can’t give out that information.”

“Will this help?”
Zack handed the clerk a twenty dollar bill. In Russia, as in many places,
American currency was preferred.
“Room 328. But I believe I saw him heading for the banya. With his
associate, Mr. Lebdiev.”
“Thank you. Can non-guests pay to use it, too?”
“Certainly. That will be another twenty. I’ll ring the attendant to let her
know.”
Zack handed over a second twenty, found the banya’s changing room,
got a towel from the attendant, and undressed. He walked to the pool, jumped
into the clear, cold water, swam two laps, and then climbed out. He noticed
that the water streaming from his body wasn’t dark. This seemed odd – he
would have thought they’d use water from their mineral springs to fill the pool.
On the other hand, the wound in his flank had stopped its reddish trickle.
Yesterday, he’d stained his last clean shirt with a big splotch along the side.
That was good – he’d really have to see a doctor sometime soon.
He walked into the steam room. It was very hot after the bracing swim.
The steam inside felt searing as he took a breath. As his eyes adjusted to the
dim light, he saw four men. From Khin Taw’s description, he recognized that
two of them were Kalikov and Lebdiev. The other two looked like they might be
mafiya, too, but they sat apart from the heroin runners. There was no
conversation. So this was just a sauna, not a meeting.
One of them was flailing the other’s back with a bundle of birch twigs.
The other grunted with each stroke. As uncomfortable as it looked, Zack had
participated in this ritual many times, himself. An essential at any Russian
banya, the flailing helped you sweat out all the excesses of your night before.
He took another deep breath of the cedar scented air, held it in, felt the
heat and steam begin to do its work. Then he spread his towel on the bench
below Kalikov and Lebdiev. With a nod at them, he sat down.
“I believe we have a friend in common,” he said to Kalikov.
“Is that a fact? What are you, a Pole?”
“No, but you have a good ear for accents. I learned my Russian while in
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 178

Poland. My name is George Panelli and I’m American. I have a heroin

operation in our southern states.”
Back at the Ankara safe house, Colquitt had been absolutely right --
Panelli was the name on Zack’s present documents. He hoped that Kalikov
hadn’t heard from Shwe Nat’s son about the fight. Then, since Zack was
American, and not particularly non-descript, it wouldn’t matter if he said
Panelli, Burris, or Bowen.
“Yeah, what’s that got to do with me?” said Kalikov.
His voice was hostile, but at least he hadn’t reacted like he knew who
Zack was.
“I’m looking for one of my people who’s gone missing. Name of Adam
Lindsey, but he’s the son of Russian immigrants and can speak the language
fluently. He might be using a Russian name, maybe Kovanov. Sometimes he
represents himself as an independent. I’m told that you may know him. I have
his picture in my locker if you’d care to take a look.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you. I’m just a businessman on holiday.”
“Yes, a businessman who works for Olik Smertev. Are you sure your
boss wants you turning down a lucrative connection? I’m looking for all the
product I can get. You have a rich pipeline to Myanmar.”
“How do you know this, Mr. what-was-it, Ponzi?”
Kalikov leaned down to glower at Zack. The double-headed eagle on his
torso glistened with sweat. Lebdiev leaned in, too, powerful and menacing.
The unwelcome image of these men naked with Khin Taw flashed through
Zack’s mind. He hoped they would attack him, so he could have the pleasure
of flattening them. But he realized his animosity bordered on jealousy.
“Not Ponzi. Panelli. This is no scheme. I know about Myanmar, because
I’m the one who sent Adam to Shwe Nat.” There was no reaction to this news,
so Zack continued. “Mr. Smertev can easily make some calls and check me
out. You’ll want to be a little more polite. I have a very powerful operation in
the U.S. I can send a lot of money your way. But first, I want to know if you
can help me find my man.”
“Adam Kovanov, you say? No, I’ve never heard of him.”
“The name could be anything by now. But come look at his picture.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 179

Maybe you met him in Myanmar one time? He’s tall and very handsome, wavy
blond hair, deep blue eyes, early twenties.”
“I met no Americans like that in Myanmar. Russians, either.”
“What about here? This guy bought twenty keys from Shwe Nat on his
last trip. With my money.”
“If he was trying to move that amount anywhere in Southern Russia, I’d
know about it. Anyone selling drugs here either works through me, or gets his
throat cut.”
“Which is what I’ll do myself when I find the prick… But do me a favor,
look at the picture anyway. Then we can talk business.”
“Fine, but I have another twenty minutes to go.”
“That’s perfectly all right.” Zack knew how Russians hated to interrupt
the banya ritual. “I’ll go and get it for you.”
He picked up his towel, went outside the steam room, skipped a
cleansing dip in the pool, returned to the lockers, got dressed, and left the
Cherny Vod. Outside, he found Boris snoring in the back seat of the car. The
interior reeked of brandy. He found the empty bottle on the floor. Boris must
have pocketed it while he’d been getting directions.
He fished the keys out of Boris’s pocket, started the car, and began the
long drive back to Volgograd. North of Sochi, the salt air gave way to the rich
smell of Russian chai, the hillsides lined with tea plantations. Air travel would
have been much faster, but Russia’s domestic flights were best avoided,
especially between second tier cities. The pilots were routinely drunk and the
worn-out planes crashed much too often. Anybody with a choice traveled on
the crumbling roads. Zack didn’t have the current permit enabling him to
drive in Russia, but this was the least of his problems.
The only thing he’d learned about Adam was that he was no place near
Volgograd, Rostov, or Sochi. He puzzled through the problem all the way past
Novorossysk and Krasnodar. Where had Adam taken Genna? And why kidnap
her in the first place? Zack was broke and Julianna had spent through her
trust fund long ago. Even if Adam or his father knew about Julianna’s high-
level boyfriend, the President certainly wouldn’t front her a large amount of
money in the middle of his reelection drive. There’d be too much risk of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 180

someone finding out. So this couldn’t be about ransom. Besides, Adam

seemed too smart to complicate his drug business with kidnap.
The second question was, who’d tried to kill him in Azerbaijan? Kalikov’s
attitude in the sauna suggested that it wasn’t Smertev. In all likelihood, this
was the wrong part of Russia to find Adam. Or, despite the assassin’s
ethnicity, Zack’s enemy might not be Russian at all.
He kept returning to the fact that Colquitt had found him so easily in
Turkey. They’d known about his trip to Azerbaijan because he’d made no effort
to hide it. They’d helped him with logistics in Ankara, but this proved little.
The orders from Brad Yates might be decidedly unfriendly. But why would he
involve Genna? Whatever his behavior toward Julianna through the years,
Brad had always doted on his “niece.” Or maybe he’d only used her
disappearance as a convenient excuse to remove Zack from the equation.
Not that I’d ever go public, but I do know a lot about him.
It still didn’t add up. Brad was as committed to winning as any politician
who rises to the top, but he wasn’t bare of morals. Sure, gaining and
exercising that much power would tend to spur the megalomania we all have
cached inside us. And Brad’s personality contained a great deal of ego.
Yeah, but come on, Vi. He might have engineered my disgrace and
wrecked my marriage, but Brad isn’t a murderer. He wouldn’t have me killed.
Now on the ring road around Rostov, there was a decent stretch of
highway. Zack finally managed to pass the lumbering old flatbed that had him
blocked for half an hour. He opened up and rolled down his windows, free of
the truck’s exhaust. Free of its noise, too, he heard Boris still snoring in the
back. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, anxious to make Volgograd
before the morning traffic started. He’d been awake for nearly a day and a half.
He only wanted to return Trebin’s car and drunken driver, then find a hotel
room where he could pull the covers over his head.
The alternating tones of a siren broke into his thoughts. Oh shit, he
thought. Speeding, and he didn’t have the proper license. Unlike most of
Europe, his American one wasn’t valid here. Make that Panelli’s. They
wouldn’t care that his driver was passed out and he had no choice. It was a
bad break, but he’d just have to bribe his way out of it. He had plenty of cash
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 181

for vyzatka in his wallet, thanks to Colquitt.

Zack pulled over, got out the Panelli license and passport, along with a
generous wad of twenties. When the young traffic cop came to his window,
Zack handed over the i.d. and money without comment. In Soviet days,
militsia basically lived on bribes, and the tradition had persisted into the
present.
The cop glanced at Zack’s i.d., pocketed them along with the twenties,
then ordered Zack out of the car. His holster already unsnapped, he placed his
right hand on the pistol’s handle and made Zack turn around. Zack couldn’t
remember militsia being armed before. But he couldn’t do a thing about it,
because there was a second cop standing by the door of their cruiser with his
pistol already trained. Now Zack knew this was no ordinary traffic stop. Other
than driving a little fast, he’d done nothing wrong. They were already treating
him as dangerous before they saw his documents.
“Do I shoot the sleeping one, too?” the young cop asked the other as he
put the barrel of his pistol to Zack’s ear.
Apparently, they didn’t know that he spoke Russian.
“Who is he? We’re only supposed to take care of the American and
search for papers.”
“How should I know? Probably his translator. Or maybe this guy’s a
faggot and it’s someone he picked up.”
“Shoot them both. What can it hurt?”
“A lot. You know the boss doesn’t like surprises. If he says shoot the
American, he doesn’t mean shoot the guy’s boyfriend, too.”
“How’s he gonna know after we dump both in the Volga.”
“What about the car? There’ll be blood stains.”
“Not after we torch it.”
“Fine, but you’re doing the sleeping one, not me.”
“What the fuck difference does it make? You’re already killing the Am-”
Awakened by the arguing, Boris sat up in back with a loud groan. As the
young cop turned to look, Zack threw up a hand to knock away his pistol. He
spun with his palm into the cop’s throat, then shoved him in the direction of
his partner.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 182

The second cop tried to jump sideways and shoot at the same instant.
He cleared his line of fire, but the shot was wild. It thunked into Zack’s door,
but he wasn’t in front of it anymore. He was hurtling the young cop whose
larynx he’d crushed.
Before the second one could shoot again, Zack crashed into him. They
both went down, but Zack was ready with a roll. He got to his knees as the
gun went skittering away, then seized the cop’s head between his palms and
smacked it down into the pavement.
Ignoring the burn of torn stitches in his flank, he opened both men’s
shirts. He checked for tattoos, but didn’t wait to see if either one would live.
He doubted they’d be able to report his escape any time soon. Boris stumbled
out of the car groaning even louder. Zack steered him back inside as Boris
slurred a plea for a sip of anything to fix his aching head.
“Rely on God, but keep bread in a bag,” Zack answered as they drove off.
It was another of those time-worn Russian maxims that fit almost any
situation.

They got to Volgograd by early morning. There was no further trouble on

the road. No trouble with rush hour traffic, either, as he drove around the city.
Zack had forgotten this was Sunday. Maybe he should find a church service
later. Actually, he didn’t feel too bad about hurting the two cops. Not like
killing that balding man with the determined features in Azerbaijan. Maybe
violence gets easier the more you do it. And this thought did make Zack feel
sick with worry. He hated knowing that the path toward evil was so very
short. And that he’d crept at least halfway down it.
He called Trebin again, who agreed to collect the car and Boris at the rail
station. When Trebin arrived, Zack told him all about meeting Kalikov in Sochi
and the attack outside Rostov. After Zack said that neither man was tattooed,
Trebin lost interest in the fight. He didn’t seem particularly annoyed about the
bullet hole in his car. But he grinned with pleasure when Zack praised Borya’s
valor in the fight.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 183

“He saved my life. I’d be a dead man without him.”

“Really? I always thought the kid was useless. He’s my cousin’s dimwit
son, you know.”
“He was terrific, Yurik. You should move him up the ranks.”
“Maybe I’ll let him be one of my body guards. Glad to hear the kid has
balls.”
“Absolutely.”
Zack gazed off at the station’s wedding cake architecture, so typical of
the Stalin era. It had occurred to him that Trebin was the only one who’d
known his route. At the banya, he’d never mentioned Volgograd to Kalikov.
“So if it wasn’t Smertev who ordered these attacks, who do you think it
was?”
“Could be anyone,” said Trebin. “This country grows more violent every
day. I’d leave, if I were you.”
“I plan to. First flight I can get. But tell me one more thing.”
“Sure. You’ve earned it.”
“Do Kalikov and Lebdiev have anything to do with the sex trade?”
“Smertev does, but he uses other people. I’ve never heard of those two
being in it. Why -- do you think they’ve sold your daughter?”
“It’s possible. Like you say, anything is.”
“They send the pretty ones to Turkey. Blondes, especially. They’re
popular with Turks. Girls who look very young, like Lyusha, are prized the
most.”
“My daughter’s blonde, but she looks womanly, not child-like.”
“The Turks admire round women, too. Their taste is like that Flemish
painter – what’s the word?”
“Rubenesque, you mean?”
“Right. Or zaftig, like the Germans say. We should have such a word in
Russian.”
“No, Genna’s slender through the hips. It’s just her, uh, top that’s
ample… But I don’t think this Adam Lindsey went to all the trouble of
kidnapping Genna just to sell her. Or to get a ransom. He’d be smart enough
to pick a target from a wealthy family. I’m getting the sense he isn’t simply a
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 184

drug runner, either. The two cops were supposed to search for papers. Their
boss wouldn’t expect me to carry records if this were about drugs or sex slaves.
Who’d want to document such deals?”
“Then what?”
“Adam Lindsey and his father have gone to extreme lengths to hide their
identities. The parents were emigrants to the U.S. back when Gorbachev
opened the window.”
“That was for Jews.”
“Mainly. We admitted other political refugees, too. These people who
became the Lindseys, their passports had them as Georgians, but it’s
impossible to tell where they really came from. Their original names may have
been Raisa and Evgeni Kovanov.”
“Are you suggesting they were snow bears?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s what we called emigrants we planted in the west. I think you call
them sleepers.”
“That was real? I thought it was a rumor. Or at most, disinformation.”
“No, we had dozens of them sent to the US and UK.”
“They’re still out there?”
“A few, I think.”
“Who controls them?”
“No one, any more. When we became a Federation, Yeltsin disavowed
that program.”
“Who used to run it?”
“Can’t say. It was strictly need-to-know.”
“But you must know who to ask.”
“There’s Putin, obviously. When he was head of the FSS, he had his
fingers into every pie. Dmitry Medvedev, too. For a young man, he’s a
surprisingly adept politician. But even if I was in good with Medvedev, and
even if they kept the files, they’d never admit it, let alone release such
information. No, if any snow bears still are out there, they’ll wait forever to
wake up.”
“But assuming someone knows their names, could they be activated?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 185

“Only if the snow bears wanted. The Center’s arm isn’t long enough to
force them, any more. Most would just prefer their nice lives in the west. And
besides, who’d want to stir up trouble now?”
“That’s the question. What if someone does? Would they have a way to
contact these people?”
“Of course. You know that. Someone makes a trip, a businessman or
tourist, say. He drops in on old friends, safe in the knowledge no one’s
watching after so much time. Or he simply runs an advertisement to sell an
old chandelier. It’s what we do, my friend.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 186

21

Zack made it to Berlin without incident. En route to Moscow, he’d

communicated with Gray Colquitt, reported the assassination attempt and
Trebin’s disclosure about the snow bears. Within an hour, Deputy DCI Clark
set up a meeting with the President. Now Zack was driving to a guest house
that the Germans had provided for Brad Yates. He was in Berlin for the G-8
meetings, but had agreed to squeeze Zack in that night. To keep their meeting
secret, Colquitt had furnished Zack with German i.d. He was being brought
into the guest house as a masseur for the President’s “strained lower back.”
Zack knew enough German to pull it off. He presented his papers and
the fax requesting his presence to a police detail at the gate. Told to expect
him, they quickly let Zack through. He entered the building, presented his
papers again to a Secret Service agent. This guy had been with Brad a long
time, but if he recognized Zack, he didn’t give a sign. A few of Brad’s other long
time aides might recognize him, but they’d also play along. Though a cluster of
reporters kept watch outside the gates, the guest house was off limits to the
press. Zack was searched by two members of the Secret Service detail, then
went upstairs carrying the portable massage table and case of supplies that
Colquitt had provided.
“Good evening, sir,” Zack said in heavily accented English as he entered
the President’s suite. “I will prepare my table now if that is satisfactory.”
“You can speak normally,” said Brad. He nodded at the pair of agents
inside the suite. “I’ve told them who you are. And the room’s been swept for
bugs. Unless you’ve brought something hidden in your clothing?”
“No, of course not! Look, I’ll strip down if you want. I swear I’m--”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 187

“Relax. It was a joke.”

Brad grinned that impossibly wide smile the electorate found so
charming. Zack had forgotten how gregarious Brad was. Always telling jokes,
always dominating every discussion, always the center of attention. And yet,
somehow, an extremely likeable guy. The ultimate boy-next-door, good-looking
but not too handsome, supremely confident but not arrogant, the sort who
could make everyone he talked to feel like he was their best friend. A
consummate politician. An everyman – Brad liked beer, not wine, work boots
over oxfords, country music over classical.
But the quality that seemed to describe him best was luck. Good fortune
clung to Brad like iron filings to a magnet. The Wall Street bombers, for
instance. Just when the fever pitch of congressional speeches was accusing
Brad of letting the nation’s defenses crumble, the two terrorists were caught
hiding in Jersey City. What’s more, the terrorists turned out to come from al-
Shahab, a U.S. based group that Brad had specifically cited while championing
strict anti-terrorist legislation.
“I can’t give you much time, so let’s get right to it,” Brad said. “I’ve read
the report you e-mailed Clark. I take it you consider the snow bears are the
key.”
“That’s right. Especially since I was attacked two times by Russians.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“What other conclusion is there?’
“Islamic radicals, of course. We’re still waiting for the follow-up attack.
Which I’m sure you realize, that’s almost always the pattern with terrorists.”
“You’re assuming Adam Lindsey has something to do with the Wall Street
bombers.”
“Naturally. I’d be negligent to assume otherwise.”
“No, you’d be--”
“We know that al-Shahab has links to al-Qaeda,” Brad overrode Zack’s
objections. “And al-Qaeda has resources inside Russia.”
“Maybe in Chechnya and other Islamic strongholds, but not in
Azerbaijan or the Volga region.”
“We can’t assume they haven’t spread. Look, whoever’s behind the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 188

Lindseys, whether it’s al-Shahab, al-Qaeda, or someone else, we’ve got to nail
them. I’ve had my people do National Security letters on this family’s banking,
phone, and e-mail records.”
“Anything so far?”
“No. The Lindseys gave every impression of being solid citizens. No
unusual financial transactions or communications overseas. As far as we can
tell, they never returned to Europe until this fall. And only a few Caribbean
vacations until Adam Lindsey’s trip to Africa. Of course, the FBI doesn’t have
records of who corresponded with them through regular mail.”
“I doubt they’d do it that way. Your people checked for a forwarding
address, right?”
“Of course. There wasn’t any.”
“I’d keep watching the mail. Both Adam’s and the parents’. Maybe
someone will try to contact them through their old address.”
“Way ahead of you.” Brad wasn’t, but he’d never liked admitting Zack
was smarter than him. “I’ve authorized interception of anything intended for
the Lindseys through their former work places, too. And Duke, for the son.”
“Good. As long as you keep the investigation very quiet. These people
didn’t become successful snow bears without being very smart and careful.”
“You’re still assuming they’re working for the Russians.”
“Well, sure. Who else would insert sleepers back then?”
“Don’t you get it? The Russians are no danger now. Okay, it sticks in
their craw that we’re the only superpower, so they obstruct us where they can,
the Iran thing for instance, but it’s not like they’re an enemy. Damn it, I have a
major initiative brewing with Medvedev. In fact, we spent all morning talking.”
“You mean about expanding NATO.”
“That’s right. So Russia’s not about to get involved with terrorism now.
Everybody knows the real threat is fundamentalists.”
“You’re serious? Based on what evidence? Far as I can see, the Lindseys
have nothing to do with al-Qaeda or any of those groups.”
“Don’t be naïve. Of course they do.” Brad glanced at a stack of papers
on his work table, as if the proof were in plain sight. Except, unfortunately,
Zack was too much of a lightweight for access to this information. Or too
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 189

much of a risk. “Look, we knew about the Russian program. The FBI rounded
up those people years ago.”
“All of them? How can you be sure?”
“They were in cells. Given enough pressure, they gave each other up.”
“You might have missed a cell.”
“Doubtful. Back in Yeltsin’s time, Hal Clark was granted access to the
former KGB controllers. One had died but he interviewed the other four –
that’s how we rolled up the networks.”
“But obviously the Lindseys weren’t on those lists. They may have
reported to a different command structure. That’s how I’d do it. Ask Clark –
he’ll tell you the same thing. The best agents, the ones with the key missions,
they’d be buried deepest. The others could be given up, if necessary.
Detectable, in other words, so you’d think the job was done.”
“Then why would the Lindseys leave the U.S. now? We weren’t closing
in. And what mission would they have? In case I wasn’t clear, Russia’s not an
enemy. In fact, they’re one of our best allies in the fight against terrorism.”
“All right, I agree some outside party may have obtained access to the list
of snow bears. Someone convinced the Lindseys to carry out a mission
separate from their original intent.”
“Exactly what I was thinking. The tip-off is our discovery that Mrs.
Lindsey was a secret Moslem.”
“Come on, that’s a huge leap to make. Even if Adam and Ed Lindsey are
Moslems, too, that doesn’t mean they’re jihadists.”
“Well, shit, I know that, Zack. But if they are, it explains why they’d go
abroad. There are al-Qaeda cells in East Africa where Adam Lindsey
disappeared. And obviously in Pakistan. I’ll bet they made a side trip from
Azerbaijan.”
“That’s only my guess where the Lindseys came from originally. We have
no hard evidence. And remember, they’re ethnic Russians. They may have
converted to Islam at some point, but the religion in Azerbaijan has never been
associated with terrorism.”
“Maybe so. But I have to assume this connection is significant.
Especially since it came so soon after the Wall Street bombing. I’ll be damned
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 190

if I’ll ignore clear signs of a plot. We have to find these people before they kill
hundreds more, maybe thousands. When we do, I’ll bet anything we find links
to al-Shahab.”
“You really think they’re preparing a follow-up to Wall Street? Have we
learned something from those men captured in Jersey City?”
“No. Unfortunately, one blew himself up when the agents cornered them.
The other one’s on life support. But naturally we have to expect the worst case
scenario. That the Lindseys were recalled to serve as couriers for a second
devastating attack. A chemical WMD would be my guess, considering Ed
Lindsey’s background. Something much worse than chlorine gas. Genna must
have learned about it. I’d say that’s why they silenced her.”
“Good Lord! You don’t think she’s dead?”
Zack’s vision blurred. Did the President know something he didn’t?
Zack staggered back a step, catching himself against the arm of a wing chair.
“I hate to think so, but what else?” said Brad. “Held hostage? Why
would terrorists do that?”
“Because Adam fell in love with her. My gut tells me she’s alive.” He
couldn’t bring himself to admit it aloud, but of course he’d considered the
possibility they might have killed her. Either way, Zack swore he wouldn’t stop
until he’d caught up to the Lindseys. “I pray that I’m in time to rescue Genna.
But if I’m not… I’ll stop whatever they’re up to if that’s all I can do.”
“Agreed. Coordinate with Clark. Consider yourself back on active duty.”
“As what? I have no position any more, not even clearance.”
“I’ve told them to restore it. Officially, you’re a contract employee of CIA.”
“Now, wait a minute. I never wanted to be CIA. I want my old job back
at State.”
“I can’t do that, and you know it. Not in the middle of a campaign.”
“I see… So Genna and the Lindseys are important to you, but not at
the price of negative publicity. You wouldn’t support me about Kandahar and
you won’t support me now.”
“What would you have me do? If I reappoint you, it’s public record. The
press would have my hide. Then both of us will be out on our asses. Think it
through – you would’ve done the same thing in my shoes.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 191

“No, I wouldn’t. Not to my oldest friend.”

“Damn it, Zack! You gave me no choice.”
“Of course you had a choice. You didn’t have to make me the scapegoat.
I warned Secretary van Scuyver repeatedly about Afghani governors. I put it
down on paper exactly what would happen if they weren’t reined in. The leaky
funds, the flood of heroin, all of it. My warnings were ignored.”
“Then you should have resigned in protest. Before the scandal broke.
That’s what I would’ve done in your shoes. But you let this come right to your
door. Do you know how it would’ve looked if I bailed out a close friend? With
hundreds of American children dead? Believe me, it wouldn’t have come out
any better for you, plus it would’ve torpedoed my chances at re-election.”
“Bullshit! You always were such a politician.”
“Of course I am. You say that like it’s a negative. I like to think I’ve done
good things for our country. The only way to be in that position is by winning
office. And no one ever said campaigns are pretty.”
“Fine. I’m not here to argue ethics.” Zack paced to the wet bar, poured
himself a glass of mineral water. He took a long swallow, then walked back.
“Or come to think of it, I am… I’ll probably never have a chance to ask
again, so here goes.”
“Okay. Let’s have it.”
“Are you in love with Julianna or is she just another of your conquests?”
The President’s composed expression vanished, uncharacteristic for him.
His eyes registered alarm, then anger, but he restored his confident demeanor
within seconds.
“I’m very fond of Julianna, as you know.”
“You don’t have any intention of leaving Betsy, do you? Not with your
precious re-election.”
“Of course not. Julianna understands that I don’t have the luxury of
divorce… But let me ask you this. Do you see her ever coming back to you?”
“No.” Again, Zack’s vision swam. He had to squeeze his eyes shut. It
made him feel nauseous to voice the impossibility of salvaging his marriage.
Before this moment, he’d never even admitted it to himself. “We’re much too
far apart that I could ever hope to fix things. I mean, I love Julianna still, but
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 192

no. I don’t want her to come back.”

“Then why do you begrudge her my affection? You know how much I
care about her.”
“Care? Now there’s an interesting word. I know you’ve wanted her for
years. Even back at Princeton. You were pissed off that she picked me.
Probably the only thing in your whole life you didn’t win. And that tore you
apart.”
“Is that what you think? You really don’t have a clue about me and
Julianna.”
“I think you became infatuated with her precisely because you needed to
erase the one black mark on your perfect record. But damn it, I won’t let you
use Julianna as some fling.”
“Fling? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how long I’ve
loved her?”
“I don’t think you’re capable of love. Except with your fucking image as
the perfect leader. But why don’t you tell me – just how far back does this go?
How long have you been after my wife?”
“She wasn’t your wife when we first fell in love.”
“Love? You’re trying to tell me it was mutual right from the start?
Goddamn it, were you sleeping with her? Even back at Princeton?”
“Yes.”
Zack’s anger surged, but he didn’t give in to the urge to flatten Brad.
Instead, he stood there with his fists balled and his toes clenched inside his
shoes. His feet felt like spikes had fixed them to the floor.
“Then why the hell did she start up with me? Why didn’t you two make
it official?”
“I wanted to. But there was Betsy.”
“Oh, I get it. Her family’s money. You were already planning your first
campaign.”
“It wasn’t like that. You know how much I’ve always admired Betsy.
She’s the ideal political wife.”
“Sure. Why let a little thing like love get in the way? Plus with Julianna
shunted off on me, you wouldn’t have to lose her. You’d have plenty of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 193

opportunities to see her, as a family friend… I guess I should be grateful.

Since I’d never have gotten your help to search for Genna if we hadn’t stayed
such friends. Hell, I wouldn’t have even heard about this Adam Lindsey.
Speaking of which, Julianna had some bullshit explanation of how she knew.
But you’ve tagged Genna’s voice print, haven’t you? You were monitoring her
calls.”
“I thought it best, for her protection.”
“I don’t get it – why? Julianna never asked you to do that, did she?”
“No… All right, Zack. I might as well admit it along with everything
else. This is where you knock me cold, if there weren’t agents by the door.”
“What? Oh no, you’re not suggesting--”
“That’s right. She’s mine. Julianna had me take a DNA test years ago.
She said she always suspected, because you were infertile.”
“You miserable bastard!” Zack stepped toward Brad. “Don’t think your
guards are going to save you.”
“Whoa – hold up, old buddy. I know I deserve it, but I need you out
there, not in prison.”
Zack stood glowering at Brad. The secret service agents had come alert,
but didn’t rush in, since they’d caught the President’s slight hand motion that
meant “back off.”
Finally, Zack sunk a right hook into the wing chair’s back to let off
steam. It toppled over on the carpet. No one moved to set it on its legs.
Everybody’s eyes stayed on it. The disarrangement somehow looked obscene in
this elegantly furnished suite.
“So help me, if you ever dump this on Genna,” Zack said. “You haven’t,
have you?”
“No. Julianna doesn’t want that.”
“At least that’s one thing we agree on.”
“So we’re cool about this?”
“Fuck, no. After I rescue Genna, I’ll be back to punch your lights out.
And don’t think for one second this makes any difference between Genna and
me. She’s still my daughter, and I’m still her father. You – you’re just some
sleazebag who knocked up her mother.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 194

22

Zack flew back with Colquitt to Andrews AFB. En route, he checked his
messages – still nothing from Genna. He called Julianna – she hadn’t heard
from their daughter, either. During that same conversation, he repeated what
Brad had said about the DNA test.
“Yes, it’s true.” Julianna’s tone was matter-of-fact. As if this information
was of passing interest only. “You mean this comes as a surprise?”
“Of course it does!”
“I always thought you knew, but didn’t want to say anything. That
would be just like you – always trying not to rock the boat.”
“Are you out of your mind? If I even suspected something like this, I
would’ve knocked Brad’s head off years ago… He says you never told Genna.
Is that true?”
“What do you think I am? Of course I never told her. I hope to God she
never learns. She loves you, Zack. You’re the only father she’s ever known.”
“But you’re sure that Brad’s the biological father? There was no
uncertainty in the DNA results?”
“You can see the lab report if you want. I have a copy in my safe deposit
box.”
“I’ll take your word.” Julianna might be many things, but she wasn’t
intentionally cruel. She had no reason to lie about this. Besides, Zack didn’t
think he could bear to see this confirmation of Brad’s duplicity on paper. “Just
make sure Brad understands we’d both be outraged if he ever reveals this to
Genna.”
“He knows.” She hadn’t put it in those terms, of course. “Just find her,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 195

Zack, and bring her home.”

Zack hurriedly wrapped up the conversation. After disconnecting, he
asked Colquitt about the communications screen for Genna’s voice print.
Surprisingly enough, Colquitt confirmed that such a screen was in effect.
Genna’s voice print hadn’t showed up in the last week, he added. She was
definitely out of phone communication.
They’d extracted Adam’s voice print, too, using a call he’d made to Genna
while in Ethiopia. But Adam hadn’t used any phone in the last week, either.
He must be limiting his communications to e-mails, though he’d used no
known accounts. But he’d likely established a secure address under an alias.
And it could be based in any country. Analysts were busy searching for it, but
there was nothing yet. No activity on credit cards belonging to the Lindseys,
either.
By the time they reached Langley, new i.d. was waiting for Zack at the
Rt. 123 entrance. Up on the Operations floor, Hal Clark had worked his
contacts throughout the FSB. If the Russians knew of any remaining snow
bears, they weren’t admitting it. Zack read transcripts of the old debriefings
that led to rolling up known cells. There was nothing to indicate a deeper level
to the program.
They’d prepared a small office for Zack. A young staffer brought him
coffee and a plate of sandwiches. Zack was surprised at the cooperative
treatment. He’d thought he had no friends, here. Hal Clark would need to
keep his distance. Paolucci, too, not that they’d ever met, but even an e-mail
with both their names appearing on it could be dredged up by some primary
opponent four years from now.
It wasn’t exactly a warm reception, but the atmosphere wasn’t hostile,
either. No one glared at him as they passed Zack’s glass wall. The same
people who’d prepared damning testimony against him for the American School
hearings nodded to him in the halls.
Over the next four hours, Zack called dozens of old friends from Moscow,
most of them ex-officials. By the end of the day, he’d learned very little. No
one had caught a whiff that sleepers might still be buried in the West. So if it
wasn’t an official operation, who was running it? What group would have
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 196

something to gain by provoking confrontation with the United States?

The President was convinced the Lindseys were controlled by a radical
Islamic group, but they’d never had access to power inside Russia. Through
the last three decades, Moscow had more reason to oppose fundamentalism
than any western country. From Afghanistan through Chechnya and a string
of recent incidents, they’d suffered more from terrorism than all other countries
combined. What’s more, the Lindseys’ names had never come up in
intercepted communications. If they were conspiring with jihadists on an
attack, there hadn’t been the slightest indication. No informant had heard of
them, or anything to do with Russians.
What about the drug connection? It simply seemed out of character for
people with the Lindseys’ backgrounds. Unless they were financing a terrorist
attack this way. There was a history of similar fund raising with al-Qaeda and
other radical groups. But if Adam’s trip to Myanmar fell into this category,
there were much easier ways to make a heroin connection. And given the size
of Adam’s purchase from Shwe Nat, it probably wasn’t an initial deal. Yet the
DEA had no record of suspicious activity by Adam or Ed Lindsey.
Zack decided to try a different tack. From Khin Taw, he got a full
description of Adam’s sea plane. Her memory was very clear, so she was able
to provide considerable detail.
“And how is your wound healing?” she asked.
Khin Taw realized that she’d asked this same question the last time they
spoke. But her problem was the same. The things she really wanted to say
could not be spoken.
“It’s coming along beautifully,” Zack lied, ashamed to admit that he’d
messed up her stitching. “I had to get a physical for my new job. The doctor
couldn’t believe what a wonderful job you did.”
Reluctantly, Zack ended the call after only a few minutes, then got back
to work. Based on Khin Taw’s account, analysts were soon able to work out a
make and model for the plane. It was a Sea Star 6 passenger -- there were no
reports of one ever being stolen. Neither Adam nor his father were licensed
pilots, at least not under the surname Lindsey. Sea Star’s records showed that
neither man had been a customer. They might have used an alias for the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 197

purchase, but there were no such aircraft based in northern Alabama.

That made the plane a charter, likely. But there were only a few services
in Asia that offered the Sea Star 6 passenger for lease. Zack quickly put
together a list.
He’d rarely had occasion to work inside Langley, the last time being
several years ago during the Threat Reduction Program. Most of the new
programs were unfamiliar to Zack, but Hollywood had it pretty close. Bank
after bank of cutting edge technology provided rapid access to virtually any
information he might need. Zack was technically proficient, but scores of
bright young men and women were available to help. It wasn’t quite the instant
read-out of all Burmese sea plane flights he would have gotten had this been
the movies, but a young agent named Norwood obtained phone numbers for
each charter service within five minutes.
Zack contacted each company, determining that there’d been three
rentals during the period in question. None of the customers came close to
matching Adam’s description. It still could have been done by an accomplice.
Khin Taw hadn’t seen a pilot, but Zack’s instincts told him there must have
been one. There was no evidence that Adam had ever learned to fly. The pilot
had probably stayed on board while Adam conducted his business with Shwe
Nat.
The Sea Star 6 required 1,000 feet for landing and 1,500 feet for take-off,
necessitating a sizeable body of water. The direct route from Myanmar to
anywhere in Russia was over western China. This was protected airspace, but
the Chinese air force didn’t patrol such a huge area. Norwood determined that
there was only one spot suitable for landing and refueling in this largely
desolate swath. And since the lake was in a restricted military zone, it was
improbable that Adam would have been able to obtain permission. So the best
bet was a straight shot to wherever he’d taken Genna.
He could have left the sea plane after the first leg of his trip, but that
meant transferring to something public. Zack sensed that Adam wouldn’t want
to do this, if Genna was his prisoner. Or he could have gone the long way
around, through India, Pakistan, and the Caucasus, but that would involve
more stops. More chance of someone seeing Genna, more chance of getting
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 198

caught.
Assuming he’d made a direct flight, the Sea Star’s maximum range put
Adam’s likely destination as somewhere in Tadzhikistan, Kyrgyzstan, or
Eastern Kazakhstan. Nowhere in Russia, itself. But it was still a vast amount
of territory. On the other hand, it was arid country, without many lakes or
rivers. And sea planes would be rare. Zack decided his best bet was to take a
team and cover every suitable landing spot. Even if the pilot had touched down
at night, dropped them off, then left, someone might have noticed.
Zack discussed his plan with the section chief, Ron Padgett. He got
permission right away. It startled Zack for a moment. He’d come in with a list
of arguments why this was the right way to proceed. But they weren’t
necessary – Padgett merely told him to copy Hal Clark on the memo. He even
said it with an approving smile.
Zack didn’t know what to make of it. Of all the people in Operations,
Padgett had the most reason to dislike him. Working out of the embassy as an
advisor on civil administration, he’d been the CIA’s head of station in
Islamabad. His six year old son Chase was one of the children killed in the
American School bombing.
They’d even let Padgett testify at the Senate hearings, albeit under his
diplomatic cover. Under oath, he’d stated that Zack never spoke to anyone in
the Ambassador’s chain of command about Afghan governors diverting U.S.
development funds. He’d testified that there were no warnings about
Kandahar. In fact, he produced a memo in which Zack highlighted this
project’s efficiency.
Zack left Padgett’s office. Instead of simply e-mailing Clark with his plan,
he took a copy to the Deputy DCI’s secretary. Again, he was surprised when
his former case officer agreed to see him. Clark stepped out of his office and
waved Zack in. Noticing Zack’s limp, he asked about it. He said he’d read
Zack’s earlier report, so he knew about the wounds from Myanmar and
Azerbaijan.
“Let me be blunt,” he said. “I know you think that you’re resented here.
But I, for one, haven’t forgotten the fine work you did for twenty years. I’ve
made it known in Operations that everyone’s to give you their full cooperation.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 199

“So you believe me about this Russian connection? The President sure
doesn’t.”
“I wouldn’t say that. He has to focus on the most likely threats. As we
all do. But we don’t ignore other possibilities. That’s why you’re here. The two
Russian-inspired hit attempts are worth pursuing. And I like your analysis of
the sea plane’s range. I told Padgett to support you when he called me. I’ve
always been impressed by your integrity and intellect.”
“That’s what you told me back in Moscow, when you first recruited me.
And my language skills, I think you threw that in.”
“It wasn’t bullshit, Zack. I meant it. I’m sure you think I have some
angle.”
“It’s crossed my mind you’d want to keep your distance. Especially after
that threat you had Colquitt relay in the wake of the Islamabad bombing.”
“About going public? You think that came from me?”
“Of course. You told me I’d be prosecuted if I went to the press.”
“I was protecting you. They wouldn’t have published your story, anyway.
We have an arrangement that they need to run all national security matters by
us first. You wouldn’t have accomplished anything except landing in prison.”
“Prosecution wasn’t the whole threat. Colquitt promised to turn Lubov’s
plutonium into heroin. I knew he meant it would be arranged to look like I’d
been involved in the shipment. In fact, you knew about it, because I told you
at the time. And Colquitt’s your boy. Everyone knows that.”
“That’s right. He is. But this threat about heroin didn’t come from me.
Of course I know you had nothing to do with Mullah Yussuf. Or the opium
profits used to finance the American School attack. That’s exactly what I told
Paolucci.”
“Then who did the threat come from?”
“I don’t know. That’s the God’s honest truth. Colquitt’s very well
regarded here. He has a lot of friends… But Zack, I don’t have to tell you, it’s
best to turn the page. Digging deep tends to turn up Company skeletons that
no one wants remembered. The most you’ll accomplish is to make more
enemies. Just do what’s necessary to bring your daughter home.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 200

23

Genna awoke without the usual bout of nausea. Her concussion must
be getting better. Yesterday, she’d only had one dizzy spell and no headaches.
No morning sickness, either. She felt hungry enough to eat all of the huge
breakfast that Adam’s mother always served. Genna looked forward to it as
she bathed. She liked to think her baby had a good appetite, too. She stepped
out of the ancient claw-foot tub and toweled dry. Checking her belly’s profile in
the mirror, Genna smiled slightly. She was definitely showing now.
It was hard to sort out how she felt about this pregnancy. True, she’d
always pictured herself with a family some day. And she’d felt elated when she
first discovered she was carrying Adam’s child. But now, he’d showed himself
to be a criminal. And worse, he’d been involved somehow in U Win’s death.
She could vaguely remember Adam carrying her into a house, then later onto
an airplane. He must have given her a sedative, because she remembered
nothing of the flight. Or anything of their trip until she’d woken in this room
about a week ago. He hadn’t spoken to her since, but she’d caught a glimpse
of him the day after she arrived. He’d been huddled with an older man. She
now believed that it was Adam’s father.
All she knew about this place was that it had cloudless skies, got very
cold at night, and might be near a lake. At least, that’s how the air smelled, a
lot like Uncle Jerry’s summer house on Lake Winnipesaukee. But unlike New
Hampshire, the terrain was flat, the air was very dry, and the birds that landed
in the trees were unfamiliar.
She couldn’t tell what language they spoke here. The only one who came
in contact with her was Adam’s mother, and she spoke nearly perfect English.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 201

Her hostess, if that’s what you could call it, had never identified herself,
wouldn’t even provide a first name, but the relationship was obvious from her
features. A strikingly beautiful woman, with kind eyes and a ballerina’s grace,
it was clear where Adam’s looks originated.
She’d seen the father, too, but only twice. Both times, he’d marched into
Genna’s room and pulled his wife out for a word. He was a tall, powerfully
built man, with stony features. If he ever smiled, or frowned for that matter,
his face looked like it would crack.
When her husband wasn’t present, Mrs. Lindsey treated Genna with
tenderness. She seemed to sense there was a loving relationship between
Genna and her son. Maybe Adam had told her as much – Genna didn’t know
how she felt about this, either. Or maybe Mrs. Lindsey knew nothing about
her, other than her son and husband wanted Genna held out of contact with
the world. Maybe she was simply a nice woman, who’d treat any prisoner
gently.
Sometimes, Genna walked with her in the garden. They’d never confined
her in the room, but the property was a walled compound, with locked gates.
The walls were massive, at least fifteen feet high, made of mud bricks that
looked very old, topped with elaborately spiked ironwork that reminded her of
Arabic script. There were no Islamic objects in the house, but she’d heard Mrs.
Lindsey reciting the daily prayers in classical Arabic.
When they spoke together, it always was in English. Mrs. Lindsey had a
light accent, a cross between Southern and what you might expect from a
Slavic immigrant, as if she’d spent half her life in Alabama. Which is exactly
what she’d done, if Adam’s account was accurate. But she didn’t speak like an
academic, at least not any of the professors Genna had at Princeton. And
Adam had said his mother taught math at a college. Though she talked
constantly, Mrs. Lindsey seemed sad, somehow, almost mournful. Genna
would guess that she’d been very lonely.
After breakfast, Genna asked if she could help clean up. Mrs. Lindsey
accepted her offer happily, pleased that Genna was feeling better. Together,
they cleared the table, washed the dishes, and straightened the kitchen – there
were no servants here. No guards, either, but maybe they patrolled outside
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 202

the walls.
When they were done in the kitchen, Genna asked Mrs. Lindsey if she’d
like to join her outside for a walk. It was another sunny day, and warming
rapidly. Whatever place this was, spring came very early. They went outside
and walked around the large, shady compound. There were fig trees here, and
pomegranates. Some blooms that Genna didn’t recognize poked up from the
flower beds. Two small white butterflies were circling. Overhead, a flight of
black-faced geese descended, heading for the lake. They honked a drawn-out
call, a different sound from other waterfowl she’d heard in Europe, Africa, or
the U.S.
Then another honk interrupted Mrs. Lindsey’s chatter. It was her
husband’s truck, now driving off, raising a dust cloud on the dirt road. He’d
tooted his horn after opening the gate, driving through, and locking it again.
This was the first time that Genna had seen the gate open. As far as she knew,
it was the first time Mr. Lindsey had left the compound since she’d arrived.
This was a bit of luck that she must use. Genna didn’t know what Adam
and his father were up to, but it must be something very serious. Adam
wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to disappear otherwise. He wouldn’t have
kidnapped her, and his parents wouldn’t have left the United States. On the
other hand, he hadn’t let the Burmese drug ring kill her like they’d done to
poor U Win. And she was treated more like a guest here than a captive. But
she had to escape today. Adam’s mood might change at any moment.
Whatever feelings he had for her, he might decide she presented too much risk.
That she’d be a danger to his plans if she remained alive. Or his father might
give Adam no choice.
Speaking of which, her own father would be frantic by now. Since the
time Genna began working in Africa, she’d never been out of touch for half this
long. Dad would have traced her route to Myanmar, maybe even discovered
about Adam’s drug deal. Together with Mom, they would have gotten Uncle
Brad involved. The walls looked much too high to climb, even if she could
devise a grappling rope. Still suffering from concussion symptoms, she’d
probably fall and lose the baby. She couldn’t risk that. There must be some
other way to get a message out. Then she’d have some chance of rescue.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 203

“Mrs. Lindsey,” she said. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“You know I’m Adam’s mother?”
“Yes. You have a very handsome son. He looks just like you.”
“Thank you, dear. I suppose my husband was foolish to think we could
keep that a secret… What is it you wanted to tell me?”
“Your son’s about to be a father.” Genna raised the bottom of her blouse.
“I’m pregnant, about three months gone.”
“My goodness! But that’s wonderful. Does he know?”
“Not yet. Is Adam here?”
“No. He left the day after he brought you.”
“I was about to tell him, but then this business…”
“Do you love him?”
“That’s hard to say. Considering what happened. Two weeks ago, it
would have been an easy answer. I went to Myanmar because I thought Adam
was in trouble. I was absolutely crazy about him. He’s brilliant and warm and
very strong. But I don’t have to tell you that.”
“No. He’s just like his father. Except for the warm part. But they’re the
two most determined people I’ve ever known. When I was young, I fell in love
the same as you. We had no choice. There was never any question. It’s like
kuuz kuu.”
“What’s that?”
“A horseback game the Kazakhs play. Kuuz kuu means, ‘catch the girl.’”
So she was being held in Kazakhstan, Genna realized. She wondered if
Mrs. Lindsey had let it slip intentionally.
“Is kuuz kuu like buz-khashi? Am I saying that right? The game that
means ‘get the goat?’”
“That’s Uzbek, not Kazakh. And no, our players don’t try to snatch up a
girl’s head instead of a goat’s.” Mrs. Lindsey smiled. “Riders try to capture
their sweethearts. If a boy succeeds, the girl has to kiss him. It’s very exciting.
Even though we’re Russians, my Kazakh friends used to let me and my
husband play. That’s how we fell in love.”
“It was like that with Adam and me, too. The most overwhelming feeling
I’ve ever known… But then I was attacked. My Burmese guide was killed.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 204

“I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t know.”

“And now I’m being held here because of whatever deal Adam’s doing
with his father. Drugs, I guess.”
“My son’s no drug dealer. He detests that sort of thing.”
“That’s what I thought, too. But now, what else am I to think? Do you
know what they’re doing?”
“I-- I can’t say.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“No, even if my husband trusted me, he’s never told me much. And
Adam, whatever he’s done, he has deep principles. He must think it’s for the
best.”
“Why did you come back to Kazakhstan?”
“I didn’t want to. I stopped believing in anything from Moscow half a life
ago. You know they slaughtered hundreds of our student demonstrators in
’86? Dozens of young people who’d once been my school friends died in the
Alma Ata protests… Anyway, I loved the life we’d made in America. My
husband forced me to return.”
“You can have that life again. You became a citizen, right?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Lindsey looked full into Genna’s eyes. “Let me ask you
something. Are you going to keep the baby?”
“Of course. I’m having a hard time figuring out how to feel about Adam
now, but I loved him when we started this new life.” She took Mrs. Lindsey’s
hand and held it over her slightly rounded belly. “Whatever happens between
Adam and me, I’m going to love our child with all my heart. And I’d be proud
to have you in our lives. I know you’ll make a wonderful grandmother.”
“That would make me so happy, dear.”
“Then we need to send a message as soon as possible. We both need to
get away from here, before your husband does something to us. Or are there
guards outside?”
“No, but I don’t have a key to the gate. And the ground’s so hard, he’d
catch us long before we could dig beneath the wall.”
“Is there a phone?”
“No. My husband has one, but he always keeps it with him.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 205

“What about an Internet connection?”

“My husband’s phone has that, but he never lets me use it. I’m more or
less a prisoner, too… But I can get a message out.”
“How?”
“There’s a boy who takes his goats past every morning and evening. He
waves to me from the road. He comes from a nearby village. When I was a girl,
I was friendly with his mother.”
“Then you know exactly where we are?”
“Of course. I grew up here. We’re near the southern tip of Lake
Balkalsh. We used to have a dock right on it, but the lake’s shrunk since I was
young. Now, we’re a kilometer to the south. That’s why Adam had to drive you
here after his pilot landed.”
“Close enough.” She knew that Dad and Uncle Brad would have no
trouble locating the compound with satellite imagery. “Ask the boy to get a
message about us to my father, Zack Bowen. Tell him to describe this place
and who you are.” Genna gave Mrs. Lindsey the phone number. “He’ll be able
from his village, right?”
“There’s a store that has a telephone. I don’t have money to give him,
but that’s all right. I’ll send his mom my prayer beads. She always admired
them when we were girls.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 206

24

When Zack checked his voice mail again that morning, there was a
crackling message from either a boy or a pre-teen girl, spoken in halting
Russian. It said that Genya Bo-ving was being held at the Tversky dacha
south of Lake Balkalsh, near the Ili River’s outlet. Raisa Tverskaya wanted to
leave, too. Zack quickly established that the call originated from a store in
Ilisk. This was a tiny village in Kazakhstan that didn’t appear on most maps.
Gray Colquitt brought up archival satellite imagery of eastern
Kazakhstan. There were hundreds of shots, because this region included both
the Semipalatinsk Nuclear Test Site and the Baikonur Cosmodrome. Russia
continued using the latter under a lease arrangement. At Lake Balkalsh to the
south, three compounds were identified in the area described. One was on the
lake, so it seemed the likeliest destination for a sea plane.
Hal Clark coordinated with his counterpart at the NSA to get
reconnaissance the next time a Keyhole satellite was in range. By that
afternoon, they had images, but there was no activity at the villa. No
boathouse large enough to hide a sea plane, either.
Studying the broad angle photos, Zack noticed a dock at one of the
inland villas. He knew that Kazakhstan’s Aral Sea had shrunk in half due to
disastrous water diversion projects. It seemed likely that Lake Balkalsh had
receded, too. Clark arranged more photos for the next pass.
They soon learned that the inland villa was indeed occupied. The highest
resolution shot revealed no women, but there was a man. He was
approximately 6’2” judging by the shadow that he cast. He had gray hair, so it
couldn’t be Adam, but it seemed very possible that this was his father,
originally Evgeni Tversky. Analysts compared facial points of reference to the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 207

photos of Ed Lindsey. Zack had confirmation within fifteen minutes.

The name Evgeni Tversky brought no hits in the archives, but there was
a Miroslav Tversky, who’d been a mid-level official in the Kazakh SSR.
According to his obituary in 1982, he’d been responsible for mineral
production, and a communist in good party standing. There was a good
chance that this was Evgeni’s father.
It seemed the right background for a snow bear. A bright Caucasian
youth from the hinterlands, from a loyal communist family. Someone used to
blending well into a foreign culture. Someone who could pose as an emigrant
from Soviet Georgia, then change to someone else. Someone with a young wife,
putting him even further from suspicion.
Likely, Roslyn Lindsey had been trained as a snow bear, too. But her
motivation had been more to follow her husband, it appeared. She’d probably
been glad when the Soviet Union collapsed. It meant that she could stop
worrying about being summoned for a mission. But then years later, the
summons actually came. She’d been reluctant to proceed, Zack guessed, so
Adam’s father forced her back. And Adam, himself, it seemed he was his
father’s son. Indoctrinated in the cause, whatever that cause might be.
Two more satellite passes produced no images of the women, Adam, or
guards. Clark wanted better recon – the phone message might have been a
ruse to throw them off – but Zack insisted he was mounting a rescue mission
with or without help. A hasty meeting followed, then a phone conference with
the DCI and President. This time, Brad Yates supported Zack.
DCI Paolucci directed them to move as fast as possible. They couldn’t
risk involving the Kazakh government. It had a very mixed record when it
came to cooperation with Washington. While firmly anti-terrorist,
Kazakhstan’s President-for-Life was all but a dictator. He’d even banned the
Wahabi sect. If he caught Islamic radicals, he’d have them tortured, summarily
convicted, and executed. He’d mount a raid with his KNB thugs, not
particularly caring if the hostages were killed.
Aside from Genna’s rescue, Yates demanded that the Tverskys must be
brought under U.S. control for questioning. Zack understood that his
unspoken agenda was to prevent the electorate from learning about Genna.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 208

They must never know his illegitimate daughter had become involved with a
terrorist.
The decision was taken to carry out the operation unilaterally. Need-to-
know was limited to a handful of Americans. They’d leave at once, maximizing
their chances of catching the Tverskys at the compound. They’d inform Alma
Ata only if the mission was detected, and only after extraction was completed,
claiming hot pursuit of terrorists. Zack and Colquitt, both fluent Russian
speakers, would bring a team of three Special Ops hard guys. They’d enter
Kazakhstan covertly, since they were bringing weapons. With luck, Genna
would be home by this time tomorrow, and Evgeni Tversky’s questioning would
be underway.
Given the go-ahead, Colquitt rapidly put a plan in motion. Departing
from the American air base in Uzbekistan, they’d make a night time glider
landing at the Ili River’s outlet, sink the glider, proceed inland on foot, secure
the villa, transport Genna and the prisoners 300 kilometers south to the
Kirghiz border using Evgeni Tversky’s truck, then rendezvous with a helicopter
from the U.S. air base at Manas. Colquitt had worked Kazakhstan before and
knew the route. Zack had sufficient experience in field work to hold up his
end. He didn’t mention the wounds he’d suffered in Myanmar and Azerbaijan,
fearing that they’d use his injured condition as an excuse to exclude him from
the mission.

The operation went wrong almost from the first. Though one of the
Special Ops guys was an experienced glider pilot, cloud cover was thicker than
expected, so it was very dark. They had a rough landing and Colquitt broke his
wrist. Worse, the glider landed much further from the lake than they’d
planned. They had to drag it for fifteen minutes before they could scuttle it
beneath the water.
As they were brushing away the tracks, a pair of lovers saw them. These
turned out to be teenagers, who’d come down to the lake on bicycles. Half-
dressed, they gaped as the quarter moon emerged from a cloud bank to reveal
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 209

five raiders dressed in black.

“Spetsnaz kommando!” the girl shouted to the boy.
“Propast!” he cursed. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Stop!” Zack yelled in Russian as they got on their bicycles. “You’re in no
danger. It’s just an exercise.”
But they pedaled quickly up the road. The agent to Zack’s left raised his
Tavor, an Israeli made assault rifle. Zack knocked the barrel skyward before
he could fire. Reacting instinctively, the agent thumped Zack in the stomach
with his rifle barrel, took aim again, but the teens had rounded a curve and
were protected by a large breakwater now.
The agent glared at Zack, but there was nothing to say. They both knew
that gunfire would have been a bad mistake. The mission’s planning had been
very rushed. They’d have to hope they were near the extraction point before
word of Russian Spetsnaz troops reached Alma Ata.
There was nothing to do but carry on. They had pneumatic casts in the
medical kit they’d brought, so Zack inflated a small one around Colquitt’s
wrist. Then they followed the road double time until they reached the Tversky
compound. Here, the senior Special Ops guy approached the gate. It had a
thick padlock on it, but he’d come prepared with bolt cutters. There was a
light on in the house, but no sign of activity at 3:00 a.m. local time.
Training a thermal scope on the second story windows, Colquitt
identified two silhouettes lying together in one room. One was much smaller,
so this was probably Raisa and Evgeni Tversky. On the ground floor, there was
a slender silhouette in another room, also prone. There was no sign of Adam
Tversky, or other targets within the compound.
“That’ll be your daughter.” Colquitt pointed out Genna’s position to Zack.
“Good. I’ll take her room, while your agents secure the Tverskys.”
“Right,” agreed Colquitt. “I’ll guard the entrance, in case any one else
shows up.”
Just then, there was a brief explosion at the gate.
“Why the hell didn’t he use the bolt cutters?” Zack said as the noise and
dust rolled away. “That charge will wake up Tversky.”
“That wasn’t ours. We didn’t bring plastique. Tversky must’ve rigged the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 210

chain.”
They ran up and found a mangled agent, his head nearly severed. The
gate was hanging open on one hinge, and now a floodlight bathed the
compound in a yellow glow.
They ran through the twisted gate, headed for the villa’s door. Before
they reached it, gunfire erupted from the house. A second agent went down,
shot in both legs. Zack dragged him to a spot beneath the largest window,
then used the agent’s rifle stock to smash the glass. As he dove through, Zack
remembered too late that there might be more booby traps.
Nothing exploded, but a large man came down the staircase firing a long
burst. Zack rolled behind a piano as the third agent provided covering fire
from the smashed window. Zack got to his feet and sprinted for the hall. The
room where he’d seen Genna’s thermal image was around this way. He met her
as she came out, sleepy confusion on her face. Not recognizing him with the
watch cap pulled down to his eyebrows and cork blackening his face, she tried
to fight as Zack pushed her down.
“Sweetie, it’s me,” he shouted over the noise of more gunfire. “Tversky’s
shooting at us. That’s Adam’s dad.”
“I know. But his mom’s on our side. Don’t hurt her.”
“We won’t. Has Adam been here?”
“Not for a week. How do you know about him?”
“Long story. Stay down. I’ll tell you when we’re safe.”
Tversky came around the corner firing. There was no more return fire
from the window. Tversky must have put the third agent out of action. Zack
hadn’t discharged a weapon since a hunting trip a week before he’d found his
father’s corpse. He’d managed to avoid firearms all through his long service in
Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Russia, Afghanistan, and Pakistan. He
hated the thought of doing this, but he had no choice. If he didn’t fire, Genna
would be killed. He went for a chest shot. At almost the same instant, he was
struck in the abdomen himself. He fired again, heard a groan and then a body
falling. He realized that he’d closed his eyes.
Tversky was still alive, but going fast. Blood seeped from four holes in
his torso. Froth bubbled on his lips. Like the rest of his team, Zack wore body
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 211

armor, but his stomach felt like someone had slammed it with a pile driver.
Zack checked Genna, saw she was uninjured. Then he turned to Tversky. The
man’s eyes were glazing over. There’d be no chance to interrogate this guy.
Zack retrieved Tversky’s laptop from a downstairs study. He searched
for a safe, didn’t find one.
When Zack and Genna emerged, they saw Colquitt standing outside the
house with Roslyn Lindsey. Or should that be Raisa Tverskaya?
“Does your husband have private papers locked somewhere?” Zack asked
her.
“Yes.”
“Where? I don’t know whether you prefer to be called Mrs. Lindsey or
Tverskaya.”
“Roslyn’s fine. My husband has a locked desk in his study.”
She didn’t ask if he was dead. She seemed jolted by the turn of events,
but not grief-stricken or enraged.
Zack returned inside, found the room, and pried the desk drawers open.
He searched them, but saw nothing of importance, except for Tversky’s
passport. He collected all the papers, anyway, and stuffed them in his pocket.
When he came back outside, Roslyn Lindsey had bound the wounded
agent’s legs. Though his right femur was broken, the other wound was only a
straight path through the muscle of his thigh. She’d injected him with a
syrette of painkiller from the medical kit. Leaning on Roslyn’s shoulder, the
agent was able to hop to Tversky’s truck.
With Colquitt’s one-armed help, Zack loaded in the bodies of the senior
agent and the one shot at the window. He’d been killed by a burst to the head,
so there was a lot of blood and brain matter. No time to clean it up, or the pool
of blood where Tversky fell. Never mind the carnage at the gate. They loaded
Tversky into the truck bed, too. Roslyn didn’t ask to see his body. Zack
searched it and removed the i.d. cards from Tversky’s wallet. He threw a tarp
over the corpses, collected the keys from a peg where Roslyn said he’d find it,
then drove off.
It was almost 300 kilometers to the Kirghiz border. Likely the explosion
and gunfire had been heard in the nearby village. Someone would have
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 212

reported it. The teenage couple would tell that they’d seen Russian
commandos landing. Unless they were afraid to admit being at the lake in the
middle of the night.
Still, Zack knew he could expect troops heading this way. Their
passports identified them as Russians. If caught, their cover was that they
were petroleum geologists. There was a large field not far to the west. But that
story was out the window, since they were carrying corpses. And instead of
drugging Tversky, with the explanation that he was sleeping off a drunk, now
the man had four bullet holes in his thorax.
There was little conversation as Zack thundered south over the rutted
road. Instead, he heard plenty of groans from the wounded men. Zack was
tempted to confront Colquitt about his threat following the American School
bombing. No, he couldn’t do it now in front of Genna and the others. It would
have to wait until they were alone. Not that Colquitt would reveal who’d
directed him to make the threat – Ron Padgett, Hal Clark, DCI Paolucci, or
someone else. Maybe Brad Yates. Zack wondered… But at least he’d let
Colquitt know this wasn’t over.
Half an hour later, two police cars with flashing light bars passed them
heading north. Everyone but Zack ducked out of sight. He hoped the local
cops didn’t recognize Tversky’s truck.
But they continued north without even a glance at Zack’s Caucasian
features. These weren’t unusual in Kazakhstan. There’d been a lot of
emigration since the country gained independence, but a quarter of the
population still was Russian.
Through the countryside of barley fields and cattle ranches, Zack
continued for another hour without seeing troops. Apparently, the news about
Spetsnaz commandos hadn’t been passed along to Alma Ata. So the killings at
the Tversky compound were being treated as a robbery gone wrong, to be
handled by police, not Army.
A stroke of luck. The only one they’d had so far. It confirmed Zack’s
sense that the Kazakh government knew nothing of the Tverskys’ plans. If they
had, there would have been guards to protect the compound. He could report
that in all probability, Alma Ata had no knowledge of what Adam and Evgeni
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 213

Tversky were doing. Washington knew little more, unfortunately.

At least we might get out of here, thought Zack. There’s still a chance to
stop Adam if we can make it to the rendezvous.
The problem was, the truck was running out of fuel.
Zack passed through three more villages without seeing a gas pump.
Everything was very dark. Soon, they’d have to steal another vehicle. But
they’d have to transfer the corpses, too. A dog might bark, and someone might
see what they were doing. They’d leave a trail of evidence all the way to the
rendezvous. When Tversky’s truck was found, there’d be blood stains in the
truck bed. They’d be lucky to wind up in a Kazakh prison. They could be
charged with terrorism, themselves, tortured and executed. Zack didn’t care so
much about himself, but he couldn’t let this happen to Genna.
In a hamlet of six houses, he saw another truck. He pulled up alongside
it, waited a minute. No dogs barked. He got out, eased his door shut, used
Colquitt’s knife to cut a length of PVC tubing that he’d noticed in the truck bed.
He used it to siphon fuel from the second truck.
Zack had never done this before, so he got gas in his mouth. Some went
down his wind pipe, making him gag. It was the worst physical discomfort he’d
ever experienced. Far worse than the gunshot through his flank in Myanmar.
He felt so nauseous, he couldn’t continue. Genna came out and took over.
She said she’d had to do this a few times in Africa.
But as she was finishing up, a Kazakhi man beamed a flashlight on
them. In his own language, he yelled something harsh at them. Brandishing a
shotgun, he came closer. Zack and Genna both put up their hands. He kept
shouting, fury twisting his face.
In Russian, Zack told him they’d be glad to pay, but the Kazakhi didn’t
understand, so Zack pantomimed. Slowly reaching into his pocket, he brought
out a wad of tenges, the national currency. But the man continued screaming.
He poked Zack with the barrel of his shotgun. Zack stayed calm, telling Genna
with his eyes to do the same. He didn’t think the man would fire. He actually
felt more concerned that Colquitt would shoot this farmer from the truck.
Genna said something in Kazakhi. She must have learned it from one of
the Tverskys. The farmer cocked his head with a quizzical expression. Genna
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 214

repeated the words, and touched her stomach. When he scrunched his face up
even more, Zack took advantage of his momentary distraction.
He grabbed the shotgun’s barrel, twisted it up into the air. It discharged
just as Zack punched the farmer in his jaw. He pulled the shotgun free, then
clubbed the farmer in his temple. Zack was careful not to hit too hard. This
man had done nothing wrong. Zack felt bad enough that he’d killed Tversky.
And that the rescue operation had gotten two U.S. agents killed. He’d never be
able to get these victims off his conscience. He was leaving a trail of death
everywhere he went.
They put the farmer in his truck’s cab, tied his hands and feet. Likely,
he wouldn’t be freed until dawn. They returned to Tversky’s truck and drove
away. There was no choice of routes -- the road to Kirghizistan passed through
Alma Ata. They reached it in another hour, well before morning traffic started.
Colquitt gave directions on the roads that skirted the Kazakh capital,
then they headed west toward Frunze. Forty minutes later, they turned on a
side road, but when they reached the field chosen as their rendezvous, they
were more than an hour late. They saw the helicopter had already landed in
the snow, then left.
Colquitt called Clark at Langley over a secure satphone. Clark said he’d
arrange for the helicopter to return at nightfall. A daylight rendezvous was out
of the question, since Alma Ata would certainly learn of it. After Colquitt
finished talking to Clark, Zack agreed with him that they couldn’t wait for
nightfall. Kazak troops would close in within hours.
Instead, they drove south to the border. It was only twenty minutes
away. They presented their Russian passports to the guard. The Special Ops
guy with the injured legs had his jacket over his lap to cover the blood stains.
With snow, he’d scrubbed the corking from his face, as had Zack and Colquitt.
The border guard asked a few cursory questions in Russian. They all
spoke the language well, except Genna, so she merely answered Da or Nyet to
each, according to the foot taps Zack gave her. But something aroused the
guard’s suspicion. Maybe that Zack’s breath smelled like gasoline, since he
kept burping every ten seconds or so. Now the guard walked around to the
truck bed. As he was about to raise the tarp, Zack had no choice but to gun
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 215

through the barrier.

It was only a wooden cross arm. It cracked into three pieces as Zack
shot through. The guard raised his AK47, yelling for his partner to wake up.
He fired off a burst, aiming for the rear window. It shattered, but fortunately,
they’d all hunched down. Zack sped away as the guard’s next burst missed.
Zack headed for the U.S. air base at Manas, again following Colquitt’s
directions. He realized that the Kazakhis would demand an explanation. The
Kirghiz government, too. But Zack didn’t care. He’d gotten Genna out alive.
And maybe saved a second life, if he’d understood her stomach gesture.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 216

25

Adam looked quite different as he walked through security at

Philadelphia International Airport. His hair was dark brown now and cut
stylishly short. He wore glasses, a light blue, buttoned shirt, pants with a
sharp crease, and well polished loafers. He carried a laptop and a binder
stuffed with academic papers. His appearance was very much that of a newly
minted associate professor.
He’d checked aboard two ordinary suitcases, full of clothing. He’d
brought nothing from the storage locker outside Baltimore. Everything there
was in readiness. He had no cash from the heroin delivery, either. Profit
hadn’t been the purpose. He’d simply needed to demonstrate that his route
and method were effective. By now, Dad’s contact would have heard the
favorable news. At this moment, another courier should be underway. They’d
never meet each other. The only thing they had in common was that they’d
both been told where to find the dead drop in Karachi.
Adam breezed through security, an ordinary passenger. With plenty of
time, he strolled to the departure gate, chose an empty seat, then began writing
notes in the margin of a monograph. It concerned mutation of a key regulatory
gene known as p53. The writer was a prominent cancer researcher from
Pakistan’s Aga Khan University. Among Adam’s papers, he had a letter of
invitation and directions to Dr. Rahman’s lab. His passport matched all of his
i.d., in the name of Dr. Phillip Winchester. Cell biology wasn’t his field, of
course, but Adam found it interesting. He chewed his pen, oblivious to the
passengers around him.
Though he seemed lost in scientific thought, Adam was really worrying
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 217

about his father. He hadn’t responded to Adam’s last three messages. When
they’d started, Dad told him to assume this meant that he was out of action.
He’d also said that the account they shared should be kept active. Even if the
FBI stumbled onto it, Dad and he had always erased messages they left for
each other in the drafts file. And US intelligence might scan for recently closed
e-mail accounts. The only danger was if they seized this laptop. The erased
messages might be recoverable from its hard drive. But if they got his laptop,
Adam knew his run was over anyway, because he always kept it with him.
Adam thought through how best to proceed on his own. He didn’t need
further help from Dad to carry out the operation. Still, it was very hard not
knowing what had happened. He had to believe that Dad was either killed or
captured. There’d been nothing in the news, but he knew this was standard
procedure.
He wasn’t surprised that he felt no grief. If Dad was dead, it came from
carrying out his patriotic duty. Adam had always understood there was much
risk in what they were doing. Dad’s life had been committed to this role.
Wherever he was now, he’d take a lot of satisfaction knowing Adam was
shepherding the mission to success.
But what about Mom and Genna? Like Dad, he loved both very much.
He also realized that Mom was very much against this. And Genna was an
innocent. He’d hate it if either of them came to harm. Would he ever learn
what happened to them? Or would he die, too, without seeing them again?
The last few nights, he couldn’t sleep from worry. And yet, it would be even
worse to let Dad down.
Damn, he wished things had been different. Genna was fantastic, the
woman of his dreams. It would have been so good to stay with her, to let their
love grow through their lives, to build a family, to give Mom the grandchildren
she craved. But now, even if he survived, none of this was possible. After
Myanmar and her forced stay in Kazakhstan, Genna would despise him. Mom
must curse his name like Dad’s. From the time he’d been a little boy, Dad had
told him that their work would one day call for great sacrifice. Until now, this
had always seemed an honor. He hadn’t known that it would be this hard.
Adam resolved he wouldn’t call either Mom or Genna. Though he longed
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 218

to know if they’d escaped whatever silenced Dad, his voiceprint would be in the
NSA’s computers. Even if he used an altering device, it wasn’t safe to leave a
message. Same thing for texting. Their numbers would be monitored. He
couldn’t send them e-mails, either. It would implicate them in his work. He
could only hope to live through this, then successfully assume a new identity.
If those things happened, maybe he’d see them in the not too distant future.
Maybe he’d find some way to explain.
Adam returned to the monograph until boarding started. Half an hour
later, he was over the Atlantic, en route to Rome.

Two days later, Adam reached Karachi. Spring was rapidly approaching,
and the temperature was mild. The evening was pleasant as he drove past the
pink-toned Mahatta Palace. Like much of the downtown, this wide avenue
was flooded with colored lighting. In fact, he’d read that Karachi was known as
the City of Lights. It was Adam’s first visit here. He’d expected to see much
wreckage left from the riots, but the city had quickly rebuilt.
Many colonial buildings remained, blending nicely with a downtown of
modern skyscrapers. Chundrigar Road, Karachi’s Wall Street, had the busy air
of prosperity. Green hills rose to the north and west. Warm water lapped
white sand beaches. Last night at Hooke’s Bay, he’d watched rare sea turtles
coming ashore to lay their eggs on the protected beach.
This afternoon while walking through a neighborhood of narrow lanes,
he’d seen boys break into a game of gully cricket. On his way back from the
bazaar, Adam watched a second game, this time played by shopkeepers who’d
closed down their stalls. Yesterday evening, he’d been to a league cricket
match at the National Stadium. The crowd was highly enthusiastic, but also
exceptionally polite. Most of the people seemed to take great pleasure in their
lives.
Of course, Karachi remained beset with problems, too. Never mind the
carnage that often flared from clashing cultures. A far worse danger was that
the population had grown to roughly twenty million. Urban sprawl gave
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 219

Karachi the second largest metropolitan area in the world. Its traffic jams were
legendary. Summers were stiflingly humid, and the monsoon raged through
July and August. Pollution fouled its air and rivers. Vast slums bred soaring
crime rates.
Political tension continued to crackle, at his highest since the time of
Benazir Bhutto’s assassination. Deadly clashes often broke out between
fundamentalist and secular parties. Afghan refugees of diverse ethnic groups
battled with each other and with the locals. Terrorist incidents were common,
both intra-factional and against westerners.
Buried in the English language newspaper this morning was the fire-
bombing of a mosque in which a score of men had died. It wasn’t even rare.
Karachi was an extremely dangerous city. As he’d walked this morning, Adam
passed the restaurant where the reporter Daniel Pearl was kidnapped prior to
his execution, then a spot three blocks away where eleven French engineers
were killed in a car bombing, and then a nearby bridge where four American
auditors were gunned down.
Given this climate of simmering violence, Adam was surprised that Dad
had agreed to Karachi for the drop site. U.S. and Pakistani intelligence agents
had a large presence. As a westerner, Adam felt too noticeable. And there’d be
extra attention now, due to the Wall Street bombing.
Somewhere in Europe would have been better. But Dad’s controller
must have had his reasons. Ease of transfer, maybe. In Pakistan, border
security was notably lax along the frontiers. Getting the material in and out of
Europe would have been extremely difficult.
Unlike the heroin, Adam couldn’t simply mail it. If it was intercepted,
the operation ended. He’d considered doing this with film bags, the kind that
photographers used to protect their rolls from X-ray scanners. But he’d
researched the postal regulations, and these opaque bags were subject to
inspection. Without the bags, it would be obvious what he was mailing.
Passing the Tooba Mosque’s immense white dome, Adam continued his
drive toward Aga Khan University. He’d followed a winding route, making
absolutely certain that he wasn’t being tailed. He’d chosen an hour when the
traffic actually moved, but not too late for an academic to visit a busy
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 220

colleague. As he’d toured popular spots for western visitors, he’d seen no signs
of surveillance, but you couldn’t be too careful.
When he came to the University, Adam drove slowly around its well-
groomed parkway until he spotted the modern Islamic architecture of Aga Khan
Medical Center. At its garage, he drove down a spiraling ramp until he reached
the bottom level. There were many empty spaces. He parked next to a dusty
green Toyota with a badly dented fender. Its license plate matched the one he’d
memorized. Its doors were unlocked.
He opened the driver’s side, reached in and popped the trunk. He forced
himself not to glance around. He hadn’t spotted security cameras, but they
might be well hidden. He mustn’t do anything that looked suspicious. Without
rushing, he walked to the trunk, opened it, reached down for the canvas bag
he’d been told to expect.
Four men came rushing up. They were each as large as Adam. They
wore sports jackets and white shirts, the Pakistani version of business attire.
None had turbans or were bearded. The man in front had neatly parted gray
hair and very deep-set eyes. A shoulder holster was visible inside his open
jacket. Adam made no move to flee as the men surrounded him.
Inter-Services Intelligence, he identified them. Their leader didn’t
produce i.d., but the ISI was the point agency on terrorism here. Damn, he’d
known it was a mistake to make the exchange inside Pakistan. They’d staked
out the truck and took him for an al-Qaeda operative. Maybe a member of al-
Shahab making contact. A western convert, someone like that shoe bomber
Richard Reid.
The real question was, how did they know about this drop site in the first
place? There seemed to be three choices. It was possible that Dad had talked,
unable to withstand torture. More likely, they’d found evidence Dad left in
print somehow. Or even more likely, the controller had betrayed them.
But there could be a fourth possibility, Adam realized. Maybe Mom know
details of Dad’s work. Adam had long known she hated Dad. But would she
have revealed the plan at the cost of Adam’s life?
Now he wished he’d given in to temptation at the bazaar. He’d seen
wonderfully sharp swords in an antiques seller’s stall. He could have quickly
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 221

turned these four men into corpses. There’d been a great selection – beautiful
scimitars of folded Damascus steel, jeweled sabers from the Raj, all manner of
straight and curving blades. But of course, as Dr. Phillip Winchester, he had
no interest in swords. So he’d passed them by, and bought a tooled bronze
coffee pot for Mrs. Winchester instead.
Spotting a tire iron in the trunk, Adam grabbed it instead. He swung it
at the leader’s arm. It connected before the guy could reach the weapon in his
shoulder holster. He cried out in a surprisingly high voice. As the other three
rushed up to help, Adam bashed the first one on his temple, dodged a fist
thrown by the second, and clubbed the third one in the nose just as he lunged.
Adam raced to get back in his rented car. He yanked the door open, but
a gunshot shattered its window. He turned around, facing the gray-haired
leader. Left-handed, the man pointed his pistol at Adam’s head. Adam
recognized it as a Czech made CZ-75B semi-automatic.
The man said something sharp in Urdu. Adam didn’t know this
language, but he understood the sense: “Move a muscle and you’re dead.”
He froze, then as the ISI leader waved his pistol at the tire iron, Adam
dropped it to the concrete floor. As its clang echoed off the walls, Adam stood
up straight. He looked the agent in his eye.
“What do you want?” he asked in English.
“You must come with us for questioning. You are under arrest.”
“Why? I thought you were robbing me. You might have cut my throat.
That’s why I fought back.”
“Do we look like dacoits? You attacked, as if you have something to
hide.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“That isn’t to be decided at my level.”
“You didn’t identify yourself as policemen. Anyone would defend himself
if four men surrounded him in a dark, deserted place.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t think that we were thieves. You know
exactly who we are.”
“All right. I thought that you might be police, but I wasn’t sure. This is
my first time in your country. What do you want, money?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 222

“No. You dare insult us?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve heard-“
“What is your purpose here?”
“I’ve come to discuss the p53 gene with a leading expert. I’m a cellular
biologist, Dr. Phillip Winchester. I have i.d. and a letter of invitation from Dr.
Rahman. I can show you, if you’ll let me reach into my pocket.”
The letter wasn’t a forgery. It was a copy of an e-mail he’d received after
contacting Rahman from a false address. They’d never met, of course. If the
ISI agents hauled him to the biology labs in the morning, Dr. Rahman wouldn’t
know him from Adam. Or Phillip, in this case. But he still hoped to talk his
way out of this. Or bribe, despite the ISI leader’s feigned umbrage.
“Your i.d. is false. What is your real name?”
“It’s Doctor Phillip Winchester, I’ve told you. This is crazy. What else
would it be?”
“That’s for my superiors to decide.”
“Look, I’m sorry I smashed your arm and that man’s nose. I’ll gladly pay
the damages. And extra for your trouble.”
“You’ll pay, all right. A lot more than you think.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 223

26

Colquitt began Roslyn Lindsey’s interrogation aboard the military flight

to Andrews. With Adam unaccounted for, it was essential to determine what
his mother knew. Judging from her cooperation during the raid, and what
Genna reported about their conversations, it seemed probable that Roslyn
wasn’t involved in her husband’s mission. But she might know what part
Adam was playing in it. They had no choice but to grill her about both men’s
behavior and travels. These details might prove vital clues.
The first two hours of questioning confirmed what they suspected.
Fortunately, Roslyn was eager to share what she knew, so Colquitt’s usual
methods weren’t necessary. Zack felt extremely relieved. He would have been
forced to intercede if Colquitt had abused the woman. Whether Colquitt’s
methods were physical or psychological, this woman was a victim, not a
danger. No matter what the stakes, it would have been wrong to brutalize her.
But it didn’t come to this. Colquitt agreed with Zack that Roslyn’s
answers all were honest. She’d refused to leave the U.S. with Evgeni. After
drugging her with a powerful narcotic, he’d brought her as a virtual prisoner to
Kazakhstan. Roslyn believed he’d planned to kill her, but Adam got wind of it,
threatening to end his participation if she died.
She’d never known much about Evgeni’s original mission as a snow bear.
His KGB controllers wanted married couples for this work, and they were
already engaged. She’d undergone extensive training in how to carry out their
cover roles as emigrants from Soviet Georgia and how to blend into American
society. However, only Evgeni was given extensive training in espionage
techniques at the First Directorate.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 224

Roslyn didn’t know whether his mission was sabotage, spying, or

something else. He never talked about it. She’d seen no signs that he was
doing anything other than working as a chemical engineer, raising a family,
and becoming an American.
They’d avoided associating with other Russians once in the U.S. If they
happened to meet one, Evgeni invariably turned unfriendly. After they legally
changed their names, he’d forbidden her to mention either Georgia or
Kazakhstan to anyone. Apparently, Evgeni’s comment to his boss about
Azerbaijani carpets was meant as a diversion. He was adamant that no one
learn their real origins.
When Adam was old enough to understand that his parents didn’t sound
like other Alabamans, Evgeni told him that they came from the old Soviet
Union. He’d emphasized that Adam must never reveal their homeland,
because people would be mean to them if they found out. Adam had always
idolized his father, so he took these words to heart.
Adam grew up very much a typical American boy. From an early age, he
spent all day at pre-school. By the time he started kindergarten, he had no
trace of a Russian accent. In school, he’d easily mastered Spanish, then
learned Russian on his own, along with Italian, French, and German. The only
other thing unusual about his childhood was that Evgeni often told him “secret
stories” of KGB heroics. Evgeni was a firm believer in the Party. In private,
Adam was a fervent communist, too. Except, never having experienced the
reality, he believed in true equality.
“So you believe your husband indoctrinated Adam?” Colquitt asked as
they flew over Greenland. “Recruited him into clandestine work?”
“Yes. I don’t know the details, but I’m sure he did. I saw a change in
Adam the summer before last. He’d always been so easy going. But he turned
extremely serious, not fun-loving at all. He spent a great deal of time on
outings with his father, instead of chasing girls.”
“Do you have any idea where they went?”
“No, but it couldn’t have been far. They were always back by dinner
time.”
“How were they dressed?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 225

“Just casual clothes. What do you mean?”

“Did they take religious items? Skullcaps or prayer rugs?”
“No! Of course not.”
“They weren’t visiting a mosque, perhaps?”
“No, why would you think that…? Wait, you know that I’m a believer?”
“Yes. Your department chairman told us she’d accommodate your
schedule so you could pray.”
“I thought that was just between us. I asked her to keep it confidential.
I told nobody else.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been a secret Moslem since I was a girl. My grandmother was
religious and she’d talk to me about God sometimes. She was Russian
Orthodox, of course, not Moslem. But I had a close girlhood friend who was
Kazakhi. Her family worshipped secretly, and I came to see how much
happiness it gave them. I converted to Islam when I was twelve, but told no
one. Not even the KGB learned about it, and they performed an exhaustive
background check.”
“What about your husband?”
“He was an atheist. He despised all religions. The opiate of the masses –
that’s what the communists taught. He learned about my faith after we were
married. He hit me once when I refused to give it up. Afterwards, I made sure
to arrange my schedule so he’d never see me praying. That worked until Adam
came along. When he was three, I tried to tell him about Mohammed and
Allah. My husband beat me so badly, I had to call out sick from work for a
week. He said if I ever mentioned religion to Adam again, he’d kill me.”
“So is Adam an atheist, too? Your family belonged to the Methodist
church in Monrovia.”
“That was for show. So we’d fit in. As far as I know, Adam’s not a
believer. Except in what his father taught him.”
“And what’s that?”
“To carry out the mission.”
“Which was?”
“The mission, in general. Whatever it may be. For the greater good.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 226

Whether you see the benefit or not. And Adam bought it all. My husband
could be so inspiring. At heart, he was a ruthless man. But on the surface, he
was very charming. People thought he was a real nice guy. And Adam thought
he was the best man in the world.”
“How were they to receive instructions? Were there ever strange phone
calls or letters? Maybe a web site?”
“I don’t know about recently, but at first, I think it was a magazine. This
was in the days before the Internet, of course. My husband pored through
Field & Stream each month, which seemed odd because he had no interest in
hunting or fishing. I think that he was watching for a coded message in one of
the small ads. That’s the page that it was always creased at.”
“Did he ever do anything unusual after he’d read Field & Stream?”
“No. I kept waiting for it, dreading it really, but I don’t think the signal
ever came… After the Soviet Union broke up, I relaxed. My husband, too, I
think. At least, he stopped watching for a message. And he seemed happier in
his work. Like he was finally ready to become a real American. We even got
along better for the next twenty years. I didn’t love him, but I wanted Adam to
have a normal home. Inside I was unhappy to be married to such a man, but I
was also proud that we could raise a wonderful son together.”
“But you say something changed in Adam during his last year of
college?”
“Yes. I think his father became active again and then brought Adam in.”
“Why do you think so?”
“My husband also changed. It was like he woke up from a trance of
decades. He got an Internet account, which he wasn’t interested in, before. He
put locks on his desk drawers. He made arrangements to buy his family’s old
dacha from his brother. And most importantly, he persuaded Adam to go to
Africa.”
“That was Evgeni’s idea?”
“Yes. Before that, Adam had been planning to do post-graduate work at
Oxford. He had a Fulbright Scholarship.”
“Right. He’d enrolled to pursue a doctorate in Medieval History. But
what about his work in Africa? Genna says he’d started writing a freelance
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 227

series about conditions in the refugee camps.”

“Yes, that’s what he told me. But I think it was a cover for whatever he
and his father had cooked up.”
“Some kind of drug run, it appears. Was that to finance their operation?”
“I find that impossible to believe. Adam despises drugs. My husband
did, too. He considered the drug culture one of the worst things about
America.”
“Then what about this heroin from Myanmar? Did Adam bring that on
the sea plane when he came to Kazakhstan?”
“If he did, I never saw it.”
“Where did he go after he left?”
“I don’t know.”
“When was he expected back.”
“He wasn’t. He made me promise to watch over Genna.”
“He thought Evgeni might hurt her?”
“I’m afraid so. I overheard them arguing before Adam left. My husband
said that Genna was a risk. He scolded Adam for bringing her. But my boy
was in love, and his will’s as strong as his father’s. He said if Genna or I was
hurt, he’d quit. And then he’d come back for revenge.”

After a week of questioning by the CIA’s best interrogators, Roslyn’s

story hadn’t changed. They fleshed out more details of her training -- it
meshed well with what other snow bear spouses had told them in the past.
And her description of Evgeni’s early behavior seemed similar to the ones
they’d captured, especially how he’d watched a popular magazine for the
appearance of an ad.
If he was like the others, Evgeni’s mission had been to simply wait. In
the event of war, he’d drive a truck bomb into a key installation. The materials
were easy to obtain – paint thinner mixed with hydrogen peroxide was the
recipe for the powerful explosive TATP. Even in large quantities, no permits
were required.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 228

But if he belonged to some inner circle, it was possible he’d been

assigned an even more damaging mission. Like constructing a chemical
weapon, then detonating it in a major city. His period of training at First
Directorate headquarters outside Moscow was significantly longer than the
snow bears they’d interrogated.
Nothing of significance turned up in the laptop’s hard drive. The e-mails
he’d sent and received were routine. If he’d communicated electronically with
Adam and other co-conspirators, it wasn’t on this laptop or this ISP. Zack
knew the FBI routinely scanned all ISPs and e-mail servers for key words. And
the NSA had hundreds of analysts working on this, too. Obviously, they hadn’t
pinged on anything revealing like “plutonium” or “sarin” that might have
brought Adam and his father to U.S. attention.
The handful of papers from Evgeni’s desk drawers at the dacha proved
irrelevant, too. The i.d. documents from his wallet all were in the name of
Evgeni Tversky. They were likely genuine. Either that, or the work of an
exceptionally gifted forger. Clark asked his counterpart at Russia’s FSB for
information on this name, but nothing came back, despite three follow-up
requests.
The President was convinced that Evgeni’s mission had gone active. He’d
told DCI Paolucci to assign the highest priority to this threat, especially with
Adam on the loose. Zack had seen a copy of the Presidential Directive – it
stated a likelihood that Evgeni’s unknown controller was now allied with
terrorists. Likely, it involved a follow up mission to the Wall Street bombing.
Every means available was to be taken in order to stop Adam.
At the safe house, Roslyn spent the next three days describing every
detail of Adam’s life. Joint Terrorism Task Force investigators interviewed his
friends, teachers, coaches, and former girlfriends from Monrovia and Duke.
All of these people were required to sign non-disclosure statements. Every
assignment that his professors still had on file was scrutinized, too. A profile
emerged of an extremely bright, self-confident, and personable young man.
Genna was exhaustively debriefed at a separate location. She told them
everything she could remember that Adam had ever said about his life. She
provided a full account of their time together in Ethiopia and Sudan, also her
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 229

hunt for Adam in Myanmar. No clues emerged from any of this about what
Adam was doing.
Adam’s e-mail accounts were scrutinized exhaustively. A trunk of books
and college papers that he’d left in storage at his fraternity house. A letter that
his best friend Denny MacLeod received during the first month Adam was in
Ethiopia. It contained a humorous travelogue in a style Genna and Denny
agreed was typical Adam. Attached, was a first draft of an article about the
Wallaba camp. There were also a few e-mails he’d sent to friends during his
African travels, but these went through an account the CIA already knew
about.
Roslyn had no idea where her son might have established a new account.
Or what names Evgeni and Adam had assumed. She’d never seen them using
passports or other i.d. in anything but their own names. Evgeni hadn’t given
Roslyn new i.d., herself, but then again, she’d been taken to Kazakhstan as an
invalid in a semi-comatose state. He would have presented documents for her.
Requests to Alma Ata for information had produced nothing.
All told, the investigation was at a standstill again. They didn’t have the
slightest indication where Adam was right now, or what identity he was using.
His fingerprints, photo and description were posted on the NCIC with a top
priority designation. They were distributed to Border Protection agents at all
U.S. entry points, also to Interpol and security services around the world.
Working out of the FBI’s Strategic Information and Operations Center, a task
force was established to hunt for Adam. But unless he stumbled badly, it
would take major luck to find him. They couldn’t even assume he still looked
the same.
Their only clue to his location was Roslyn’s impression that he’d gone to
Alabama when he’d left Kazakhstan a week ago.
“I know Dad made you leave home in a hurry,” he’d said to her. “Is there
anything you need? Things you can’t get here?”
But FBI agents were watching the Monrovia neighborhood where they’d
lived. Also both parents’ former workplaces, the Duke campus, Adam’s
fraternity house, and current residences of his close friends. There’d been no
sign of Adam.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 230

“What if he only meant he’d be somewhere in the U.S., not Alabama

particularly?” Zack said to Colquitt. “At least this gives us a time frame.”
“Right. We could check for travel a week ago.”
As usual, Colquitt’s sharp intellect was already two steps ahead.
“But we still don’t know what name he’s using.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll collect security tapes from all U.S. airports with
international connections, run them through our recognition program.”
“You mean to compare facial points of reference? It can do video now?”
“You bet. The speed’s amazing. And it won’t matter what disguise he’s
wearing. Unless he’s had a professional make-up artist give him a putty job.”
“Or had surgery. But I wouldn’t bet on that. Genna and Roslyn saw him
recently. If it was in the last week, he wouldn’t have time to heal. He’d be very
noticeable. And this kid’s too smart for that.”
Agents collected the tapes for a three day period starting one week
earlier. By that evening, they had a suspect. Dr. Phillip Winchester of Boston,
Massachusetts. Turned out there was such a person, who strongly resembled
Adam Lindsey. But this Dr. Winchester was easily located, at work in his lab
at Northeastern University. He’d lectured every day for the past week. His
passport’s last stamp for travel outside the U.S. was two years earlier. This
made it very likely that the man posing as Dr. Philip Winchester was Adam.
The security tapes from Philadelphia International Airport showed him
at the US Airways ticket counter six days ago. He’d checked in two suitcases
for a flight to Rome. Another tape showed him passing through the scanner,
then also at the gate. After a day’s delay, a tape from Rome showed this same
man boarding a flight for Karachi. He’d been freshly barbered and wearing
sunglasses, but the facial recognition program proved that it was Adam
Lindsey. He’d booked a return flight for two days later, but he hadn’t been
aboard it.
Pakistani intelligence came up with a tape showing Adam collecting his
luggage in Karachi, but there was no way to trace him after he’d left the
airport. He hadn’t reserved a rental car, so he’d either had a contact pick him
up or he’d taken a taxi. His photo was circulated among the cabbies, but
without success. Maybe he’d rented a car elsewhere in the city. They’d check
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 231

all agencies, hoping he’d used either the Winchester i.d. or his own.
Zack and Colquitt left immediately for Karachi. The head of station in
Islamabad would send a man fluent in Urdu to meet them. This time, they had
the full cooperation of the Pakistani government. Though Zack lacked
experience hunting terrorists, no one tried to keep him off the team. This
surprised him, but he supposed it made sense on an operational level. He’d
been chasing Adam for two weeks already. He’d learned much about the young
man’s methods and capabilities.
The flight to Karachi took most of the day. If Zack had wanted, there’d
been plenty of time to confront Colquitt about his threat after the American
School bombing. He’d specifically ignored the President’s advice to bring extra
muscle just so he’d be alone with Colquitt. But he didn’t raise the subject
during the long flight. Clark was right – thrashing this out now would only
interfere with the most important things. Arresting Adam and preventing
another disaster.
But just as soon as this is done… Zack promised himself.
Before they left from Andrews, the word had gone out to informants.
Karachi was riddled with extremist mosques and madrassa schools and
fundamentalist parties. Both the CIA and Pakistani intelligence had infiltrated
people into this mesh of jihadist sympathizers. As answers started flooding
back, it became clear that no one had heard the names Lindsey, Tversky,
Kovanov, or Lidvaradze. None of the informants knew of a visit by Dr. Phillip
Winchester. No one recognized Adam’s picture either in this guise or as he’d
looked at Duke. No car had been rented by a young man surnamed
Winchester or Lindsey, and no hotel room was taken by a person of these
names.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 232

27

No one looking at the caged man would have identified him as Adam
Lindsey. After a week in custody, his face was badly swollen, livid with yellow
and purple bruises. Dried blood caked around his ragged lips. Three of his
teeth were broken. His darkened hair was patchy, since the one called Iqbal
had ripped out a tuft each time Adam answered questions unsatisfactorily.
That was this morning. Yesterday, Iqbal’s technique of choice had been
electroshock. Another of his specialties. Adam still suffered each time fabric
brushed against his testicles or nipples. But he’d take these agonizing jolts
over Iqbal’s “stretching” exercises” of the day before.
He had to crawl across the cell to reach his water bowl, because his knee
and ankle joints were badly twisted. His ribs still hurt from fighting the Acholis
at Sabemba, and the further harm he’d done by botching his hang glider
landing in Vermont.
But Adam believed that one must concentrate on positives, however
small. And here was one -- they’d cemented his bowl into the floor, but at least
he didn’t have to lap his water like a dog. His hands, though burnt with
cigarettes, were able to form a cup.
He wondered why they didn’t inject him with a psychotropic agent. If
they didn’t have one, why not turn him over to the Americans? He’d resisted
food and water at first, expecting to be drugged. But now he drank thirstily.
Resisting torture was hard work.
He’d steadfastly denied everything that didn’t mesh with his original
story. He was Dr. Phillip Winchester of Natick, Massachusetts, a Biology
professor at Northeastern University, here to visit Dr. Mahmud Rahman.
Nothing more or less. The claim would only hold up until they contacted
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 233

Northeastern. Then they’d know he’d come to Pakistan for something

clandestine. Until that time, he must do everything possible to escape.
Adam spread out his shirt and knelt on it. The cell was cold at night,
but they’d given him no blanket and he didn’t have a prayer rug. Through the
cell’s small window, he’d heard a distant muezzin’s call. It was time for evening
prayer, the last one of the day. In classic Arabic, he recited the words. He’d
known them since the age of three. Mom had taught him surreptitiously, told
him that he must never reveal this knowledge or they’d both be in great
trouble. It had been his sole secret from Dad. But now Dad was very likely
dead, and this single act of disobedience was the one thing that might get
Adam out.
Jehangir was on duty as his guard. He was the youngest of the four.
The only one that Adam hadn’t injured when they’d captured him at the
garage. As low man on the totem pole, he had to take night duty. He missed
his wife, who probably worked during the day. Adam knew, because he’d often
see Jehangir gazing at her photo from his wallet. She was young and pretty,
holding an infant in the photo. His gray-haired boss had caught Jehangir
doing this on two occasions. He’d berated Jehangir sharply in Urdu. After he’d
left, Jehangir had screwed his face in a dead-on impersonation of the squad
leader’s stern expression.
When Adam prayed five times a day, the others yelled at him to stop,
claimed he only mocked the Prophet, threatened to take away all “privileges”
like clothes and the slops bucket and the pallet that he slept on. So he’d
mouth the recitations silently. But Jehangir would never interrupt his prayers.
He’d face west toward Mecca just like Adam at the proper times. He didn’t
kneel, but Adam could hear him murmuring in an exact rhythm to his own.
Adam suspected that Jehangir was devout. Though Jehangir spoke
excellent English, his humble manner indicated a poverty-stricken childhood.
Chances were, he’d been educated at a madrassa.
“I have to tell you something,” Adam said to him now.
While there was a video recorder in the interrogation room, Adam was
fairly certain there was no hidden camera or mike in here. Jehangir didn’t
answer. His eyes were closed and he slumped in his chair, so Adam said it
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 234

louder. Jehangir’s eyes came open. He sat up straight.

“What is it?” Jehangir said.
“I feel ashamed I’ve lied about who I am. I shouldn’t have denied the
work I do. I should acknowledge it, since it’s something in which I take great
pride.”
“What work is that? You admit that you’re not Dr. Winchester?”
“That’s a name the imam told me I should use.”
“What imam do you mean?” Jehangir’s voice showed sharply greater
interest.
“I think you can guess, but I must not say his name aloud. We both
know there’s a need for secrecy.”
“You may think so, but why include me?”
“I can see that you’re a good man, Jehangir. A man who refuses to deny
his faith. I think you’re friendly to us. I can feel it in my heart.”
“To us? You mean…” And here his voice dropped to a whisper. “You
mean al-Qaeda?”
“Yes.” Adam knew that the ISI was riddled with sympathizers. Prior to
her death, its leader was among those named by Benazir Bhutto as a direct
danger to her. “Can you help me?”
“You must not ask me this. I have a family.”
“I have one, too. I love them just as much as you love yours. I want
them to be proud of me. That’s why I’ve agreed to carry out a vital duty. It’s of
great importance to all believers.”
“But they’ll know it was me if you get out.”
“Just leave my cell unlocked. I’ll overpower Iqbal after your shift is over.
They’ll think that it was him.”
“I don’t know.” Jehangir took out the picture. He stared at it for a full
minute. “The thing is, I’ve been praying for a son. I mean, I love my daughter,
but nothing but girls have been born in my wife’s family for three generations…
Maybe this will help.”
“It will. Allah rewards the righteous.”
“All right. Take Iqbal’s key chain. If you make it outside, he drives a
blue Subaru truck. Go away from Karachi as fast as possible. They’ll search
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 235

for you very hard. They think that you’re important.”

“Then why haven’t they given me to the CIA?”
“Your injuries. Captain Khan doesn’t want anyone seeing you like this.
Besides, he wants the credit for breaking you. He said we’ll wait for your face
to look human before we notify the Americans.”
“I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Don’t be shocked when you see it in the Subaru’s mirror. It looks like
pounded meat.”
“Oh.” Never vain about his looks, Adam took it all in stride. It was
simply another of those costs that Dad had warned him he might pay. “I must
consider it another blessing, alongside the trust the imam’s placed in me. I’m
sure the houris of Paradise won’t mind this ruined face when I go to my reward.
It will prove I’ve been a martyr.”
“You’ll die in what you’ve been assigned?”
“I think so, inshallah.”
“I envy you this honor. Peace of the Prophet be with you.”
“And with you, my friend.”

Adam drove straight to Jinnah International Airport. It took an hour

through the dense morning traffic. He’d jumped Iqbal soon after his shift
began at 6:00 a.m. Captain Khan usually came in and began his questioning
by 9:00. So there were at most two hours before Iqbal was discovered gagged
and bound. Adam had a lot to do before he could leave Pakistan.
He couldn’t fly out yet. Not before he checked the alternate drop site. He
felt sure Dad’s contact hadn’t left the shipment in the dusty Toyota. If the ISI
had found it at the University garage, they would have grilled him about its
source, its route, and its intended target. But they’d never mentioned these
things throughout the week of questioning.
They must have staked out the Toyota based on general suspicion of the
man who’d left it. If so, he must have known that he was under surveillance.
He’d parked the Toyota as a feint. They wouldn’t know that Adam had
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 236

memorized a sequence of three alternate sites in Karachi, then additional sets

in Islamabad and Lahore.
Every step was agony, but Adam forced himself to continue down the
concourse. Still, his gait and battered face were very noticeable. Last thing he
wanted was to attract attention. He should really get a wheelchair. Then,
people would assume he’d been in an accident. The instinct would be to look
away.
Hey, now there was an idea. A wheelchair would be perfect once he
retrieved the package.
Five minutes later, he came to the lockers. Fortunately, it had a numeric
code he’d been able to set, not a key. They’d confiscated his key chain, along
with his wallet, passport, and hotel room card. But he’d anticipated this might
happen. He’d stored nothing in his room at the Pearl Continental. By now, it
had certainly been searched. From the airport locker, Adam reclaimed his
laptop, along with emergency passport, change of clothing, i.d. cards, and
cash.
He went outside, and got into a taxi. He hoped they assumed he’d left
aboard a flight when they found Iqbal’s truck in the short term lot. He had the
driver take him to Frere Hall, a popular tourist destination built during the
British Raj. They might question all cabbies later, but Adam was wearing a
false beard, brown tinted contact lenses, fez, and galabiyah. They covered the
worst of his injuries, except for his broken teeth. But the cabbie had barely
glanced at him when he paid. Speaking Arabic when he gave his destination,
Adam had used an Egyptian accent.
Now, he hobbled south from Frere Hall, until he’d gone three blocks. He
came to a construction site. It still was early and work had not begun. He
carried a cloth shopping bag. He hoped they’d made the drop already. He
wouldn’t like to travel to Islamabad in this condition, while trying to evade the
dragnet. But Dad had always said his contact was the best.
He would have learned immediately about Adam’s arrest. He would have
watched the place where they’d held Adam. It would be easy from the street,
since the ISI’s Karachi offices were inside an ordinary office block. He’d know
of the escape. What he wouldn’t know was whether it was real. They might
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 237

have broken Adam, set this up to follow him. But Dad’s contact would follow,
too. Now he’d know that Adam had no tail.
But still, I could be in contact with them through a cell phone.
Adam made sure not to move his lips throughout his walk. If he was
under observation, he hoped this reassured the contact that he wasn’t
speaking into a Blue Tooth clip.
He turned the corner and found the construction site’s locked gate. On a
sign beside it, there was a horizontal streak of reddish mud that angled up at
the left end. He walked straight past, suppressing the urge to grin. This was
the indicator that the third alternate drop site in Karachi would be full.
Apparently, he still was trusted. Maybe the contact had trained a parabolic
microphone on Captain Khan’s office window, so he knew that Adam hadn’t
revealed a thing.
Adam went to the Malir district. He noticed the incongruous sight of
many satellite dishes perched on dilapidated houses. He had his head shaved
by a street barber, then bought fresh figs in a bazaar. He ate the fruit as he
continued walking. In an alley, he stuffed the fez and galabiyah into his empty
canvas bag. Beneath this robe, he wore a heavily soiled dishdashi. Now, he
looked just like a beggar. He hobbled to a garbage bin behind the market and
started rooting through discarded produce. Halfway down, he found a
crumpled plastic sack.
He peeked inside, then quickly shoved it into the bag he already carried.
Two ragged youths approached, probably heading for their breakfast in the
same dumpster. Adam limped off, still chewing on the split half of a Persian
melon. He didn’t worry about the cutthroat gangs that called these alleys
home. Who’d bother to rob a ragged beggar of his spoiled fruit? He allowed
himself a smile as the juice dripped from his broken teeth onto his beard.
After he’d left the district, Adam changed back into the fez and galabiyah.
He took another taxi to a medical supplies outlet at the Bohri Bazaar, where he
bought a folding wheelchair. He paid cash, the norm here in the Saddar
Quarter. Then he took a third taxi to a hardware store near Aladdin Park on
Rashid Minhas Road. Here, he bought a hacksaw and welding equipment,
again paying in cash. He felt confident that his far-flung acquisitions across
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 238

Karachi would be impossible to trace.

It was 8:15 now. Adam still had time before the hunt for him began. He
took yet another taxi to a cheap hotel on Napier Road. It was a few blocks from
the red light district. He’d asked the cabbie to recommend an inexpensive
place. Not because he was short of money, but this sort of lodging wasn’t likely
to have security cameras. He checked into a ground floor room, then carried
the folded wheelchair into it. He’d left it and the tools outside the office when
he paid, so the clerk wouldn’t see them.
Now, he cut open the tubing of its undercarriage. He welded the
contents of the canvas bag into its frame. Dad had insisted he take metal shop
in high school. Now, Adam could see why. He carefully resealed the tubing.
Only a very close scrutiny would reveal where it was modified. And who’d
inspect a cripple’s wheelchair as he went through security?
At 8:45, Adam went to the bus station. Now, he wore neat western
clothing, which he’d kept beneath the dishdashi. His emergency passport was
Canadian in the name of Michael Evans, so there was no sense looking
anything but Caucasian. Before leaving the hotel, he’d showered well, then
changed. He’d ditched the tools, contact lenses, and false beard in a burnt-out
block of apartments down the block.
He bought a ticket for Ahmadabad, because this bus was leaving soon.
It was only100 kilometers to the border. Good thing the Indian-Pakistani
relationship was in a détente cycle. For now, travel between the two countries
was routine. There was a good highway, so the trip should be about six hours.
From there, it would take another two hours via the high speed railway to
reach Mumbai. By this evening, he’d be aboard a flight to Montreal.
Ordering the ticket, he spoke English through tight lips, careful not to
show his broken teeth. Their mountainous outline was something people
would remember.
Aboard the bus, Adam closed his eyes to rest. He’d managed very little
sleep inside the cell. His trip around Karachi had left him exhausted. He
ached all over from Iqbal’s methods at ISI. Besides, there was a middle-aged
couple across the aisle, speaking English with an Australian accent. They
seemed the friendly type. He didn’t want them striking up a conversation.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 239

They’d be sure to ask about his injuries.

At the Indian border, all passengers had to get out of the bus to go
through customs. Adam hobbled down the steps, got into a line, and showed
his passport. It had been prepared with a Pakistani entry visa, so there was no
question about how Michael Evans entered the country. Since the customs
officers didn’t search anybody’s luggage, his wheelchair stored in the coach’s
bay wasn’t an issue.
The border crossing went routinely, as Adam thought it would. From
what Jehangir had said, Captain Khan wouldn’t want to put out a national
alert for his escaped prisoner. Right about now, he’d be combing the airport,
still hoping to recapture Adam himself.
Adam got back on the bus. Within minutes, he was asleep again. When
they reached Ahmadabad four hours later, he felt surprisingly refreshed. And
relieved that this part of the transit had gone smoothly.
In a shop nearby the bus station, he bought a large suitcase. In a
neighboring shop, he selected clothes to go inside it. Both stops were
necessary, since it would look odd at Mumbai’s airport for a western traveler to
have no luggage. He took a taxi to the rail station, went inside, and bought a
ticket. The Bombay, Baroda, and Central India Railway had a train leaving for
Mumbai in one hour. He bought an English language newspaper and settled
down to read it. He kept the wheelchair folded, with the suitcase standing
endwise in front of it. He wanted as few people as possible noticing his face or
the wheel chair.
After boarding the train, a porter helped Adam stow his wheel chair and
suitcase. While most of the train was very crowded, these overhead racks
weren’t full since this was a first class compartment. The train left promptly
and Adam began staring out his window at the passing scenery. Eventually,
he turned to his laptop and did a few essential chores on-line.
After the BB&CI train reached Mumbai, Adam took a jitney to Shivaji
International Airport. Now he used the wheelchair, and had a porter carry his
suitcase to the Lufthansa ticket counter. From his laptop on the train, he’d
been able to book a business class ticket for the evening flight to Frankfurt,
with a connection to Pierre Trudeau outside Montreal.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 240

He’d paid with the credit card that Dad had set up in the name of
Michael Evans. Until today, he’d never used it. There’d been no sense trying
to buy the ticket with cash at the last moment. It would look suspicious, and
he would have needed to show i.d. anyway. Between the events in Pakistan,
Myanmar, and Sudan, not to mention whatever had happened to Dad, he knew
that they’d be looking for him. But by the time they connected Adam Lindsey
with Dr. Phillip Winchester and Michael Evans, this should all be over.
After going up an elevator, Adam went along the concourse to the
security gates. He was somewhat surprised when an attendant waved him
around the line. Instead of having Adam wheel through the scanners, two
stocky men lifted him out of the chair, then walked him through. They didn’t
even ask permission. Apparently, this was standard procedure in India.
Another man brought Adam’s chair around. Then the attendants lowered him
back into the seat, apologized for the inconvenience, and waved him on.
Now as Adam proceeded to his gate, he realized that they couldn’t simply
let invalids wheel through the scanner. Of course, the metal of their chairs
would set it off. And they couldn’t use wands to scan such passengers,
without removing them from their chairs. He wondered what the procedure
would be in Frankfurt. Surely nothing like this. He’d kept his laptop with him.
He switched it on, so he could research the question.
Adam learned several things of interest. For starters, he’d be allowed to
keep his own wheelchair when he changed planes, since it was foldable and
didn’t have a battery. When he went through security at Flughafen Frankfurt,
he could request a pat-down search instead of being made to leave his chair.
Technically, he should have a card identifying him as an orthopedic patient,
but anyone could see that he’d been injured very recently.
Another thing of interest struck him as he read through the security
regulations for Germany’s airports. Passengers wearing a prosthesis or a cast
would receive special scrutiny. Good thing he had neither. He also had no
repair tools for the chair, which would have qualified as weapons. Less
happily, it concerned Adam that his chair would be swabbed for trace
explosives. Not that this should be a problem, but they might have an
unpublished procedure to test for what was welded inside the frame.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 241

Maybe he should check his chair aboard, like he’d need to do if it were
an electric model… No, he’d have to take his chances. He knew they scanned
the checked luggage, too.
An hour later, Adam was allowed to pre-board the Lufthansa jet. A
stewardess who looked a bit like Kirsten Dunst pushed his chair into the cabin.
After she helped him take his seat, Adam thanked her briefly in English. He
regretted that it seemed unfriendly, but he said this through tight lips. He
used a Canadian accent, though she probably couldn’t distinguish it from
American. He could have easily conversed with her in German, but there was
no reason to make himself more memorable than he already was. He showed
her the switch that allowed his chair to fold, then watched her stow it in the
compartment designed for this purpose.
He slept throughout the flight like most of the passengers. Assuming
there were no delays, it would be nearly a day until he reached Montreal. The
flight was uneventful. An hour before they reached Frankfurt, the cabin lights
came on. The senior stewardess made the standard multi-language
announcement regarding declaration cards. Adam amused himself as he filled
his out, imagining how he might describe the contents of his wheelchair’s
undercarriage. He’d always taken pride in candor. Ah well, he wasn’t quite so
honest.
At Flughafen Frankfurt, he was allowed to leave the aircraft first. Again,
the pretty stewardess unfolded his chair and helped him off. He thanked her
again briefly, then rapidly wheeled away from the gate.
Since he was changing flights and it left from a different concourse, he’d
have to pass through security again. He stopped to use a men’s room. Unused
to the wheelchair, he thought that going through the door would be awkward.
In fact, the door was automatic. He should have known the Germans would
have this problem solved. In fact, Adam saw signage indicating many services
here were wheelchair accessible, even the shuttle trains.
At the security gate for Concourse B, he approached a guard instead of
getting in the line. It seemed reasonable that passengers in chairs would know
this was the standard procedure. Adam said that he was able to stand and
didn’t mind the wand. When he’d done his web search for wheelchair
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 242

regulations, he’d seen a story about an 83 year old woman in Oregon who’d
been threatened with dire consequences if she didn’t leave her chair.
Naturally, it resulted in a law suit and very bad publicity for the airline.
Adam felt anxious as he watched them swab his chair. In the middle of
the procedure, a commotion to his left erupted. A Middle Eastern couple was
yelling in bad German that they’d miss their flight if they had to wait in line.
The man wore a business suit and kefiyah, the woman a full chadoor and
hejab. She pushed a passenger aside and hurried through the scanner. She
wasn’t stopped and required to show her face, as Adam would have expected.
It could have been anyone under that black tent. Even more
interestingly, the Middle Eastern man was on aluminum crutches, so he threw
them on the conveyor belt, then hopped through the scanner. His crutches
weren’t swabbed. He retrieved them at once, then set off to catch up with his
wife, making amazingly good speed for a portly man on one good leg.
By the time this distraction ended, the guard swabbing Adam’s chair had
finished and moved on to someone else. As Adam got back in his chair, the
waiting passengers groused angrily about rich Saudi bastards cutting the line.
They didn’t believe that he was injured or that his plane was late. Apparently,
this ruse was common. It was a safe bet that wheelchairs were used like this,
too. But at least with his bruised face, no one would doubt that Adam’s
injuries were real. He wheeled off toward his gate, forgetting to feel relief that
his chair had gone through the swab test smoothly.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 243

28

Along with the CIA man Greg Hyland who spoke Urdu, Zack and Colquitt
continued questioning cabbies at Karachi’s airport. There seemed little else
that they could do. By circulating Adam’s picture among all of Karachi’s
hotels, rooming houses, and hostels, they’d discovered that he’d stayed at the
Pearl Continental for one night a week ago. It was among the city’s best hotels,
a modern, ten-story structure near the Governor’s residence on Club Road.
Adam hadn’t registered under the name Dr. Philip Winchester. He’d paid
with an American Express card under the name of Patrick Cole. There’d been
no record of the Winchester passport since he’d used it to go through Pakistani
customs. If he’d left the country, it had been under a different name than
Winchester or Cole. If he’d remained in Pakistan, he must be operating under
the assumption that these names were blown.
Back in the U.S., the real Dr. Winchester had been questioned
thoroughly. He hadn’t been aware of the identity theft – there’d been no
problems with his credit cards or bank accounts or any official record. He’d
never heard of Adam Lindsey, Ed Lindsey, Evgeni Tversky, or Patrick Cole. He
knew no one in Pakistan and had never traveled anywhere in the Middle East.
He’d heard of al-Shahab, of course, but only because this group had claimed
responsibility for the Wall Street bombing. Deputy Director Clark was satisfied
that the professor knew nothing of a second attack. He’d simply had the
misfortune of bearing a keen resemblance to Adam Lindsey.
Zack still had major doubts that Adam and his father were affiliated with
the al-Shahab terrorists. In fact, it looked like Adam might simply be lining up
sources for a heroin operation, after all. Having worked in Pakistan, he knew
Karachi was a major transit point for the international narcotics trade. Adam’s
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 244

travels had taken him to Myanmar, then southern Russia, and now here.
Three places all deeply involved with the flow of heroin.
Maybe instead of informants inside fundamentalist groups, they should
be looking for information from drug runners. But why had Adam’s father
gone to such lengths to resist arrest? If it was drugs, he’d have little to fear.
He would have paid off the local Kazakh bureaucrats and mafiozhi. Besides,
from what Roslyn told them, he’d shown every sign of a snow bear going active.
A break came when one of Hyland’s contacts inside Pakistani intelligence
phoned him back. The rumor was that an ISI man was being held by his own
agency for treason. They suspected him in the escape of a western prisoner.
The history of Pakistani intelligence was notoriously adversarial. In the highly
charged political situation these days, the rivalry had grown even worse. If the
ISI knew something about Adam Lindsey, it was no surprise they hadn’t shared
this information with the other services.
Knowing better than to phone ahead, Colquitt, Zack, and Hyland hurried
to ISI’s Karachi bureau. After presenting his i.d. to a male receptionist,
Colquitt asked to speak with the commander. Despite their CIA credentials, it
was an hour before Captain Khan made himself available – and this was only
after Colquitt presented a document bearing the White House seal. It was a
letter of authorization from President Yates requesting full cooperation.
Khan denied he’d had a prisoner escape. He insisted he knew nothing of
an American named Adam Lindsey, Thomas Cole, or Dr. Phillip Winchester.
Claiming he was very busy, he turned back to his office.
“Shall I call Islamabad?” said Colquitt as he followed Khan inside. His
voice as deep and sonorous as ever, there was no mistaking the steel behind it.
“Your government’s ordered all Pakistani intelligence services to cooperate with
our search for Lindsey.”
“I have cooperated. I’ve interrupted important work to speak with you.
I’ve told you what I know, which unfortunately is nothing.”
“We’ve heard you had a western prisoner escape.”
“No, except for an Afghani, all my detainees this month have been
citizens.”
“We’ve also heard you’ve arrested one of your own men for aiding the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 245

escape.”
“Let me guess who started this scurrilous rumor. It wouldn’t be my old
friend Colonel Haq from MI? You should know we’ve long been rivals.”
“In fact, we heard it from three sources. You won’t mind if we have a
look inside your cells?”
“I’m afraid this will be impossible. Security regulations forbid armed
men inside.”
“No problem.”
Colquitt laid his SIG Sauer on Khan’s desk, then with the arm that had a
cast, he motioned Zack and Hyland to do the same. They turned and walked
briskly from Khan’s office. Colquitt hadn’t waited to ask where the cells were.
He headed for a back corridor, guessing this is where he’d find them.
“Wait!” shouted Khan. “You must be searched.”
Colquitt, Zack, and Hyland didn’t stop. It was clear that Khan wanted to
delay them long enough to move a prisoner. Next, he’d order his men to
forcibly expel them from the building. That’s why he’d insisted they surrender
their weapons. And that’s why they hadn’t revealed their ankle holsters.
They came to a doorway, clearly labeled Holding Tank in Urdu. Hyland
told them what it meant, then pushed the door open.
“Stop right there!” screamed Khan.
He ran up, brandishing his CZ-75B. Five subordinates jumped up from
their desks and followed. Left-handed, Colquitt reached down and drew his
back-up piece. Zack and Hyland followed suit. They were outnumbered six to
three.
They stood there in the overly chilled office. Though it still was winter,
the air conditioner was blasting. And yet, a sweat broke out on Khan’s
forehead. Zack stood so close, he could see the droplets forming.
He watched Khan’s hand. It didn’t flinch. But two of the ISI agents’
pistols wavered in small circles. Soon, somebody would panic. Of all places to
die – here in this cold hallway. Throughout his twenty-five years of undercover
work, he’d never once come this close to a killer. But during the last week, he
couldn’t have moved further from such a charmed existence.
Zack counted back. Since he’d learned of Genna’s disappearance, this
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 246

made the fifth time his life was in grave danger. He had to think the odds of
this confrontation turning into a bloodbath were growing shorter. He didn’t
want to die here. He still had to stop Adam Lindsey. Whether it was heroin or
a terrorist operation, the young man’s actions would ruin many lives. Not to
mention that Adam remained a lethal threat to Genna.
“I knew it,” said Khan in his raspy voice. The semi-automatic that he
pointed still held steady. “You were hiding weapons! You wanted to smuggle
them to my prisoners.”
“That’s ludicrous,” said Colquitt. “We’re investigating terrorism, not
abetting it. You saw our letter of authorization from the White House. You
know we have Islamabad’s support. I think that maybe you’re the one abetting
terrorism. I’ll bet you were involved in the plot to kill Benazir Bhutto, too. Is
that what you want our report to say?”
“Fuck your mother! No one insults me like that. I’ve captured and sent
more terrorists to prison than anyone in Pakistan.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind showing us your cells. And if your
cooperation leads to a favorable result, well let’s just say I have a large
discretionary budget.”
Colquitt pushed past Khan, daring him to fire. He doubted Khan would
let this come to a shoot-out. The murder of three CIA agents would be nearly
impossible to disguise. And the glint in Khan’s narrow eyes at his last
comment sealed Colquitt’s decision. He suspected the Captain liked the idea of
baksheesh far more than either an official protest or an exchange of gunfire.
The door led to a stairway going down. Zack and Hyland followed, while
the ISI agents looked to their captain for orders.
Khan muttered something dark in Urdu, which Hyland didn’t translate.
There was no shooting on the stairs.
It turned out that an ISI agent named Iqbal Nasreen was slumped
against the wall in the first cell. Khan claimed he was an Afghani caught
smuggling rocket launchers, but Nasreen was alert enough to hear this. In
Urdu, he shouted out that Khan was lying. Hyland promptly told Zack and
Colquitt what he’d said.
“Ignore that man,” said Khan in English. “He suffered a head wound
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 247

during his arrest. He raves like this all day.”

“I do not rave,” said Nasreen in Urdu. Apparently, he could understand
some English, but not enough to speak it. “I am our bureau’s chief
interrogator. The Captain falsely accuses me of letting our American prisoner
escape.”
“What was this prisoner’s name?” asked Hyland.
“He claimed that it was Winchester, but we didn’t believe him. For one
thing, he had a room card for the Pearl Continental, and we discovered that
he’d checked in under the name Cole. His car was also rented in this name.
Though I questioned him thoroughly, he stuck to his Winchester story,
insisting he was a professor of biology.”
“How did he escape?”
“He attacked me from behind. It was two days ago, not long after my shift
started. I don’t know how he got the cell door open, but I suspect the Captain.”
“Why?”
“He sympathizes completely with the Taliban. Captain Khan supports
what our commanding general once said, you know -- that it was the Mossad
and CIA responsible for attacking your twin towers.”
“And what do you believe?”
“It was al-Qaeda, of course. The Captain knows I hate all terrorists.
That’s why he’s accused me of this crime. To cover up his own involvement.”
To Khan’s visible consternation, Hyland translated all of this. Colquitt
demanded to see the tapes of Adam Lindsey’s questioning. Khan said there
was no recording, but Nasreen swore the bureau taped all interrogations. He
said the tapes were locked in Khan’s filing cabinet.
After much negotiation, Khan finally agreed to show them. He’d
invested heavily in a construction project, and needed the bribe that Colquitt
offered. Besides, he was more afraid of being made to look incompetent than
treacherous. His only conditions were that the tapes mustn’t leave his office,
and no transcript could be shared with Pakistan’s Federal Investigative Agency.
Colquitt peeled off one thousand dollars from his bank roll as a down
payment. He promised twenty thousand more if this information assisted in
the prisoner’s capture. Naturally, he had no intention of honoring the deal. If
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 248

Colquitt had anything to do with it, Khan would be freezing his balls off in an
Alaskan cage by then.
After they listened to the tapes, it became clear that Adam Lindsey had
been repeatedly tortured during his questioning. And yet, he’d revealed
nothing.
“Why did you arrest this man in the first place?” Zack asked Captain
Khan.
“For suspicion of consorting with terrorists,” Khan admitted. “We were in
the process of questioning Winchester when Iqbal released him two days ago.
The bastard even provided his car.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He hasn’t said. But I’m sure that he’s a sympathizer. That must be
why we got nothing from Winchester’s interrogation. Iqbal went too easy. I’ve
always broken men in half that time.”
“Why didn’t you call us in? Our agreements say the CIA should be
informed.”
“We were about to notify you, when Winchester escaped.”
“His real name’s Adam Lindsey.”
“Oh. He kept insisting it was Dr. Phillip Winchester. He claimed that he
was here to consult with a scientific colleague.”
“Did you interview this colleague?”
“Yes. He’d heard of the real Winchester, because their research is in the
same area. But they’ve never met.”
“So you confirmed that Lindsey’s operating undercover. And yet, despite
knowing that he might be very dangerous, you hid his capture and escape.”
“After he got out – well, you can understand. I hoped to get him back.”
“So you’ve been searching?”
“Yes. We’ve scoured Karachi and all of Sindh Province without success.
But another session with Iqbal, and I would have learned just where Win- I
mean Lindsey’s run.”
“It looks like you’ve already used severe methods with your agent. And
on the tape, it sounds like you used them with Lindsey, too.”
“Don’t expect a cricket match without googlies.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 249

Zack knew this was the equivalent of curve balls in baseball. By which
Khan meant, don’t be naïve – one must use every trick possible to beat a
determined opponent.
“I’m proud that we protect our country,” Khan continued as Zack stared
him down. “But it would be an embarrassment for my bureau if our enemies
were given the chance to paint our procedures in a negative light. That’s
another reason why I didn’t want to call in outside help to recapture our
prisoner.”
“How did you come to suspect Lindsey in the first place? If this was a
week ago, we hadn’t posted his wanted status yet.”
“We were watching a truck parked in the University’s garage when he
approached it. He opened its trunk as if he expected to find something left for
him.”
“Was there anything?”
“No.”
“What made you stake out the truck?”
“We’ve been following a Pashtun smuggler named Gul Khan. He’s a
former mujahedin who fought the Russians in Afghanistan. More recently,
we’re sure that Khan’s worked with the Taliban.”
Zack didn’t ask if Gul Khan was a relative of the Captain’s. He knew that
Khan was an extremely common name here, like Smith a hundredfold in the
U.S.
“So you staked out Gul Khan’s truck. The ISI only handles high profile
cases. What did you suspect he was involved in?”
“We didn’t know specifically, but something major. That’s been the
rumor about him ever since this summer. But nobody knows what.”
“Who are his friends?”
“No one. Everybody hates Gul Khan. He’s a vicious character. In
Pakistan alone, he’s killed five men in feuds.”
“Then why isn’t he in prison?”
“The feuds were in Waziristan. The territory’s still autonomous, an
almost impossible place for us to operate. We don’t interfere with their
traditions.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 250

“And this truck – where did you follow it from?”

“He has a woman in the Afghani quarter. We watched her house; the
truck appeared one night a month ago. It was stolen, but we didn’t arrest him
on that. We wanted to follow and see who’d meet him. But then he ditched us
after leaving it parked in an underground garage at Aga Khan University. So
we watched the truck instead.”
“Sounds like that’s what he wanted. It was probably a cut-out, to see if
Lindsey was being followed.”
“Maybe.”
“What about Lindsey? You learned nothing at all while you had him?”
“No. But I can bring Iqbal, and we’ll get some answers soon.”
“Never mind that.” But it gave Zack an idea. “You say that Iqbal’s
methods with Lindsey were too soft. Just what did he do?”
“The usual, you know. But he must have eased up subtly, so I couldn’t
tell.”
“What does the usual involve?”
“Stretching, electroshock, extracting pieces of the scalp…”
“So you don’t mind leaving marks?”
“Not at all. Sometimes a good beating does the trick right off.”
“In other words, Lindsey will be in sorry shape.”
“Oh yes, you wouldn’t recognize him.”
This gave Zack another idea that would aid in the search. He left with
Colquitt and Hyland, then phoned Ron Padgett at Langley. He asked for
Lindsey’s picture to be digitally reworked to show a swollen face and heavy
bruising. It was sent back within twenty minutes. They took it to Jinnah
International Airport and started questioning cabbies again. An hour later,
they found one who’d driven an injured westerner to the bus station two days
ago.
“Except for a bald head, he looked just like this picture,” the cabbie told
Hyland. “I helped him stow a wheel chair in my taxi’s trunk. He was a good
tipper, so I offered to push him inside. He was very polite about it, but refused
my help. Maybe he didn’t want me learning which route he planned to take.”
“What time was this?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 251

“A little before nine a.m. You ask because of the bus schedule, don’t
you?”
“That’s right. I suppose you know it by heart.”
“Yes, I drive people there a lot. With Karachi’s traffic, they’re always
worried if they’ll be in time.”
“So which bus do you think he took?”
“The Ahmadabad route leaves at nine-fifteen. That’s the first one after he
arrived.”

With Adam Lindsey’s picture reworked to show a shaved scalp, Zack,

Colquitt and Hyland canvassed the bus station. A ticket clerk remembered
Lindsey and confirmed he’d bought a ticket for Ahmadabad. Though he might
have gotten off at a dozen stops before this terminus, they left for Ahmadabad
at once. There, they were in luck again. A porter remembered seeing an
injured westerner with a bald head.
“He entered the taxi of a man named Deepak. This foreigner was tall and
thin, built like an athlete when he stood up. And young, besides. I was
surprised that he was in a wheelchair. But when I saw his face, I guessed that
he’d been in a motor accident. I saw Deepak load the foreigner’s wheelchair
into his boot.”
“I’d like to speak with Deepak,” said Zack. “Could you point him out for
me when he shows up? I’ll make it worth your while.”
“No need, sir. Deepak’s in the cab stand now. That’s his Ford – the red
one with the temple monkeys painted on it.”
Zack thanked the porter, and pressed a twenty dollar bill into his hand.
They went and spoke with Deepak. He recognized the picture, too, reporting
that he’d driven this fare to the train station.
Deepak drove them there, himself. They found several more people
who’d seen Adam Lindsey. Indian railways don’t require passengers to present
i.d., but the ticket agent confirmed that Lindsey had purchased a first class
ticket for the evening BB&CI train to Mumbai two days ago. Likely, he was
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 252

aiming for a flight out of the country as soon as possible. Colquitt called Hal
Clark to get the ball rolling on securing access to Shivaji International Airport’s
security tapes.
By the time they reached Mumbai, the local CIA operative had found a
Lufthansa clerk who recognized Lindsey’s picture. Checking the security tapes,
they determined that a ticket to Montreal via Frankfurt was bought by “Michael
Evans” at the time that Lindsey’s battered face turned up. This man was
traveling under a Canadian passport.
The next day, he was seen at Flughafen Frankfurt and that night at
Pierre Trudeau in Montreal. Records showed he’d had one large suitcase and
the folding wheelchair. There was no indication of security issues. Agents
interviewed all car rental clerks and all cabbies with clearance to work Pierre
Trudeau, but no one recognized Lindsey’s picture. He’d either been picked up,
or had taken a shuttle bus into the city center.
Agents worked this route, too, but they found no one who’d seen Lindsey.
They had no success at the train or bus station, either. The RCMP was
provided with his picture, told this was a confirmed case of an active terrorist.
All border posts were notified, under the assumption that Lindsey’s target
would be in the U.S. Though a joint U.S./Canadian task force searched
exhaustively, no further sightings of Lindsey turned up. There was no usage of
his various passports, i.d., or credit cards.
The dead end was maddening for Zack. They were now only a day
behind Adam, but there was no clue where he’d gone.
Maybe he should work this question from the other side. If Adam was
planning an attack, why had he left the country in the first place? It wouldn’t
have been to meet his father – they’d had every opportunity to coordinate a
plan while inside the U.S. Adam wouldn’t have gone abroad to bring back
funding, either. There were so many ways to circumvent federal controls, an
intelligent young man like Adam would have had no trouble doing the task
electronically. No, it had to be that he was smuggling material.
Putting aside the evidence of heroin, what were the possibilities that
might result in a terrorist attack? The President thought it was something
chemical, because of the elder Lindsey’s background. Which wasn’t a bad
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 253

guess, but again, they’d have little trouble devising a chemical weapon without
going abroad. The same held true for biological weapons. As for conventional
explosives, the Wall Street bombers had fashioned a devastating TATP mixture.
The quantities of paint thinner and hydrogen peroxide that they’d used must
have been enormous, and yet the FBI hadn’t been able to determine where
they’d bought these common chemicals.
Which left only one material a terrorist would need to leave the U.S. to
obtain. A radioactive isotope in sufficient quantity to build a bomb. And this
suggested Russia more than ever. The theft that Lubov had warned of just
before he’d died. Ninety kilograms of Pu-239 smuggled out of Russia via the
Pamir range.
“Damn it all!” Zack muttered.
He’d known this incident would come back to haunt America. But
nobody had listened. And with the furor surrounding his disgrace, he’d been
unable to pursue this case, himself.
Now, Zack would have to convince everyone from Padgett up to the
President that this was Russia’s doing. Brad wouldn’t want to hear it. He’d
already decided the Lindseys were working for al-Qaeda, either directly or
through the U.S. based group al-Shahab.
If I stray from the script again, he’ll bury me this time. The hell with that.
Zack knew he was right. My life’s so fucked, what more can he do to me?
To press on, he’d need to make the case that from the Kremlin’s point of
view, a nuclear attack on U.S. soil would benefit Russia.
But how did crisis for America translate into something positive for
Russians? Even those elements determined to reestablish Russia as a world
power would never risk direct attack. The U.S. would have to be tremendously
weakened before Russia could achieve military parity. As for world opinion,
sympathy for U.S. positions always increased following terrorist attacks.
Maybe it had something to do with the U.S. presidential election. A
defeat for Brad Yates – was that what they wanted? True, he’d been
unwaveringly tough in all negotiations involving Russia. But Brad’s likely
opponent Senator Owen Speedwell was even less a friend of Moscow. For
years, he’d been extremely critical of Putin’s authoritarian regime, and the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 254

puppet government of Medvedev.

Maybe the idea was to make this appear the work of fundamentalists.
That could be why they’d chosen Karachi for the transfer. If so, the clues
pointing to al-Qaeda now made sense. It would spur the U.S. into even broader
conflict with the Islamic world. It would weaken both parties, both historic
enemies of Russia.
Zack decided he must find this Afghani smuggler called Gul Khan. If he
was the link from Adam Lindsey to his Russian controller, he’d know what
Adam had received. He might not know the target, but there’d be a chance of
forcing him to give up names on the Russian side.
Zack persuaded Colquitt first.
“That’s why he flew here with a wheelchair!” said Colquitt. “I’ll bet he
had lead tubes welded in the frame.”
“Right. They wouldn’t try to send it in a container ship, because of our
radiation portal monitors.”
“And they couldn’t drive it across the borders. It’s no secret we screen all
trucks and vehicles for radiation.”
“But in a wheelchair, he could get through airport screening easily. We
have officers with handheld radiation detectors, but even if Lindsey’s tubes
emitted slight leakage, he could claim he was undergoing radiation therapy.”
“Don’t we have isotope identifiers to make sure it’s something medical
like iodine?”
“We do at our major airports, but the Canadians don’t use them yet.”
“Which is why he picked Montreal. But how do you think he’ll cross the
border?”
“Probably by small craft. The coast of Maine has so many coves and
inlets, it’s impossible to patrol.”
“And where’s his likely target?”
“Can’t say. Could be anywhere.”
“We’d better find this Gul Khan, and hope he doesn’t have much
tolerance for pain.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 255

29

As he drove to the airport, Zack’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the

screen, he saw a long-remembered number. The private one Brad only gave to
family and confidants. Zack doubted he still belonged to the latter category,
but he answered immediately, of course.
“I hear you’re on your way to Pakistan again.” The President wasted no
time on pleasantries. “Have I missed something? Do we have any reason to
think Adam Lindsey’s gone back there?”
“No, there’s still no trace. But that’s all the more reason why I should fly
back to Karachi. Hal Clark agrees we might learn something vital by working
this from the other end.”
“What other end?”
“Adam’s contact. The one who gave him whatever he smuggled in the
wheelchair. If we can learn what it is, that might tell us where he’ll strike. Or
better yet, this contact might know something more. If not Adam’s target, then
at least what group’s behind this. If it’s the Russians like I think, you can
pressure Moscow to abort.”
“Goddammit, Zack! Are you still working that angle? I told you, they
have no reason to attack us. This couldn’t be any simpler -- it’s al-Qaeda
through this new group al-Shahab.”
“You’ve made it very clear you think so, but from everything I’ve seen, the
signs point to a Russian operation. Whether it was hatched inside the Kremlin,
or by some splinter group, I don’t know yet.”
“Are you fucking listening? I want you to drop this bullshit now! I’m
days away from signing a major deal with Moscow. How’s it gonna look if one
of my people accuses them of terrorism? One, there’s nothing more than a few
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 256

shreds of circumstantial evidence, and two, I’d be vilified for ignoring the far
more likely sponsors. So help me, if you put me in a no-win situation, I’ll
make sure so much shit falls down on you, you’ll never take a peaceful breath
again.”
“Like you did before?”
The words slipped out before Zack considered he wasn’t talking to his old
friend Brad, but to a man who wielded virtually limitless power.
“What happened to you after the Islamabad bombing was a picnic
compared to what I’ll throw at you. Make no mistake, if you piss off the
Russians, I’ll have you locked away in isolation for the rest of your miserable
life.”
“Are you forbidding me to go to Pakistan?”
“If your trip has anything to do with Russians, yes.”
“It doesn’t. The contact seems to be an Afghan named Gul Khan. We
learned about him from Pakistani intelligence.”
“That makes more sense. There could be a Taliban connection… But
you’d better not be lying. I know you, Zack. When you get your mind fixed on
something, you won’t let go. Don’t make me fire you again. I’m warning you,
the consequences won’t be pleasant.”
“I swear I’m not trying to make you look bad.”
It occurred to Zack that Brad had just admitted he’d personally
manipulated where the blame would fall in the wake of the Islamabad
massacre.
“Sure we both know that I’d have my reasons,” Zack continued. “But
honest to Christ, our personal differences over Julianna or Afghanistan or,
well, that other thing, they aren’t a factor. I’m not inventing some red herring.
Clark’s man Colquitt was with me when we learned about this smuggler Gul
Khan. I think that finding him is crucial.”
“Fine. You go to Karachi. Take Colquitt and some extra muscle with
you. Secure this Gul Khan and interrogate him. I’ll give you another
memorandum requesting full cooperation from the Pakistanis. But get this
straight – no side tracks. I need this settled quick. I can’t have any bad news
now. Speedwell would crucify me.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 257

So this was about the campaign in Brad’s mind. While he faced only
minor opposition in his own party, the early primaries had given Senator
Speedwell a commanding lead among the opposition candidates. Already,
Speedwell was becoming the consensus nominee. Instead of party infighting,
he’d be thoroughly focused on blistering the administration.
“Look, you have my word. I’m totally committed to catching Adam
Lindsey. No one has more incentive than I do. Whatever direction this takes.”
Zack knew it was a risk to say this last part, but he had to put it on the record,
before Brad tied his hands. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to stop this. Last
thing anybody wants is another devastating strike. Preventing it’s all that
matters, right?”
“Goddammit, are you giving me some kind of ultimatum?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that?”
But the President was right. The implicit threat was clear. If an order
suddenly went out for Clark to remove Zack from the hunt, he’d just vowed to
expose Brad’s early interest in Genna’s disappearance. Preparing for this
possibility, Zack had written an e-mail for a list of trusted media contacts, to
be sent if he didn’t make a semi-weekly renewal on the hold. It laid out
everything that had happened so far, including his discovery of Genna’s
parentage.
“For Christ’s sake! Are you looking to get charged with treason? You
can’t go threatening the President.”
“What threat? Of course I don’t want everybody knowing you’re Genna’s
biological father. It hurts to even have to say it.”
“You do realize I can retrieve this conversation?”
“I’m counting on it. I think you will, and then have it expunged. I think
you want this relationship with Genna kept hidden even more than I do. Not to
mention your affair with Julianna. What would that do to you precious re-
election?”

Greg Hyland met Zack and Colquitt at Karachi’s airport. He’d come
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 258

down from Islamabad the day before, and bribed more information out of
Captain Khan. Gul Khan’s girlfriend was a woman from Ghazni named Dara
Noor. Now, she lived in Karachi’s Afghan quarter near the river.
Hyland had a team of Pashtun speakers that he’d used several times
before. Able to blend into Dara’s neighborhood, they watched her house in
shifts. Gul Khan was inside it now, but they hadn’t moved in to arrest him yet.
Hyland had told them to follow Gul Khan if he left, to see where else he went.
Zack and Colquitt decided they needed to grab Gul Khan immediately.
There was too much risk of him spotting the surveillance, like he’d done with
the ISI team at the university garage. He was an elusive target, with thirty
years of experience surviving Russian, Taliban, and US offensives in
Afghanistan. It would have been ideal if he led them to someone higher in his
organization, but they might gain this information through interrogation.
It was dark when they arrived on the street of mud-brick hovels. The
homes were squat; few had a second story. The lights in most windows had
the wavering quality of lanterns. A few burned brightly with pirated electricity.
A bony dog with a thin, curling tail rooted in a mound of garbage. A worse
stench came from the gutters, befouled with raw sewage. A grizzled man with
one leg slept on the corner, his rags scant protection against the cold night air,
his begging bowl empty beside his single sandal. There were no street lights,
but the moon was nearly full. This looked nothing like Karachi’s prosperous
downtown. Other than a few battered cars and pick-ups parked along the
street, it might have been a city in the days of Alexander.
Wisps of vapor came up from the fetid river. A goat screamed somewhere
as its throat was cut. Maybe its head was going into someone’s pot for supper.
A knot of long robed men emerged from a madrassa. All but the youngest were
thickly bearded, and he was doing his best to make progress on a scraggly
growth. Their voices were loud and animated as they passed Hyland’s car.
Hyland couldn’t translate what they were saying, since it was in Pashtu. Two
of them began screaming at each other, locked in some theological debate.
All this stake-out needed was the street to erupt into a violent religious
battle. Which Hyland told them was almost a daily occurrence in Karachi, like
Baghdad during the occupation. Car bombings, kidnappings, and gun battles
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 259

were so common between the feuding sects, Karachi’s police force didn’t even
bother to investigate.
Fortunately, these men were of a shared opinion that only they knew the
true path to Paradise. The dispute concerned what they should do about a
rival imam’s slur. When they’d taken their argument around the block’s far
corner, Zack, Colquitt, and Hyland got out of the car.
Hyland collected the two watchers working this shift. The first turned
out to be the one-legged beggar. The other watcher had been snoring like a
drunkard inside one of the pick-up trucks. Though an Islamic country, you
saw a lot of this in Pakistan. The beggar came swinging quickly on his
crutches, as fast as most men sprint. He pointed out Dara Noor’s residence.
Behind a drawn curtain, they could see one of the rear windows was lit up.
Probably the bedroom.
Hyland positioned his “drunkard” Aslam at this window, with the
“beggar” Jalil to watch the hovel’s other side. They both were armed with AR15
assault rifles. Hyland vaulted a rickety fence that enclosed a chicken yard on
his way to the back entrance, while Zack and Colquitt took the front. At the
sound of Hyland crashing through the rear door, Zack smashed open the front
door with his boot. The wound in his side still hurt, but he was rewarded with
the pleasant memory of Khin Taw’s soft hands as she’d stitched.
They converged on the lighted room, where a naked Dara scrambled to
pull a blanket around her shoulders. Glass exploded as the equally naked Gul
Khan jumped through the curtained window. It must have surprised Aslam --
he didn’t fire.
“Don’t shoot him, just hold him there!” yelled Zack.
Receiving no answer, Zack scrambled across the room. As he dodged the
bed, it occurred to Zack that Hyland hadn’t said if this man spoke English.
“Aslam, are you all right?”
He arrived at the shattered window in time to see Gul Khan limping off.
Blood dripped down his bare buttocks. Aslam lay on the ground, a wide hole
in his chest. It bubbled with pink froth, a sure sign of a deep lung wound.
Zack knocked out the remaining glass with a hair brush from the dresser, then
jumped through. He put compression on Aslam’s wound, trusting that Hyland
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 260

and Colquitt would have little difficulty running down an injured Gul Khan.
But Jalil had already caught him. He’d guessed in advance that Gul
Khan would run to his car. He knew which one, because he’d watched Gul
Khan arriving. It was a rusty Fiat, parked down the street. Already, he had
the smuggler in hand cuffs. Jalil sat on the Fiat’s trunk, holding his AR15.
His crutches were propped against the car, while Gul Khan lay face down on
the road. The moonlight shined on Gul Khan’s naked body, showing many
glass cuts on his back and buttocks.
“Looks like he was smart enough not to leap face first through the
window,” Jalil commented in English to Hyland.
They marched him back into the house. By now, Zack had bound
Aslam’s wound with strips from Dara’s sheet. He was pale, but conscious and
his pulse was strong. When Zack looked back through the window, the girl
was dressed in a colorful robe and was tying back her unbound hair. Sitting
on her bed, she looked young and very scared.
Zack knew that he should search her – she may have tucked a gun into
her robe– but he’d feel embarrassed to pat her down or make her strip again.
Besides, if she’d wanted to shoot him, she could have done it when he was
busy with Aslam. He signaled her to throw out the blanket. He spread it over
Aslam’s torso, then climbed back through the window.
Since she spoke no English or Urdu, Zack would need Jalil’s help to
question Dara. He’d let Colquitt handle Gul Khan’s interrogation. If the stories
were even half believable, Colquitt was an old pro at this sort of thing.
Fractured wrist or not, he’d extract some answers soon. When they had Gul
Khan shackled to a leg of Dara’s wood stove, Hyland left to take Aslam to the
hospital.
The girl gave them no trouble. She answered Zack’s questions, but she
had no useful information. She couldn’t say where Gul Khan lived. She didn’t
know a thing about his business. She’d never met any of his friends. Zack
was relying on Jalil’s translation, but Dara’s expression and tone seemed
entirely sincere. She even offered them mint tea and a bowl of sohbat, but this
may have only been so she could go into the kitchen to see Gul Khan. Though
it was generally an insult to refuse Afghani hospitality, Zack politely declined.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 261

Dara went on to tell them that she was a young widow. She knew Gul
Khan, because he’d served with her father’s band of mujahedin in the Russian
war. Gul Khan had heard about the death of her husband, who’d also been
one of her father’s men. She became reacquainted with Gul Khan when he’d
come to bring her money. Since he knew that all of her male kinfolk were
dead, he said it was his duty to look after her. Gul Khan was a kind and
generous man, she told them. He’d saved her from great shame.
Dara’s face collapsed with anguish when they heard a distinct snap
coming from her kitchen, followed immediately by a scream. It lasted for five
seconds, then a pause, and then another snap and nauseating scream.
Zack was surprised that Colquitt had resorted so fast to violence. Of
course he realized Gul Khan wouldn’t tell them anything without persuasion.
This was obviously an extremely determined man. He’d expected Colquitt to
make threats against Dara. But he’d been prepared to stop any tactics that
looked like they’d actually cause her harm.
They heard another snap, followed by a shrill, curdling scream. Zack felt
disgusted that he had to be a part of this. Evidently, Colquitt had decided
threats to harm Dara would be ineffective. But instead of a slow buildup of
physical persuasion, these were the first noises they’d heard. Zack could
imagine a question, silence from Gul Khan, then Colquitt breaking one of his
fingers. Each refusal to cooperate would bring another broken finger.
Tears streamed down Dara’s face. Gul Khan might be a terrorist, but it
was obvious she loved this man. If she knew anything of value, now she’d
never tell them. And Zack certainly wouldn’t resort to torturing the girl. He
doubted it would prove effective with Gul Khan, either. Any more than Iqbal’s
treatment of Adam Lindsey at the ISI had produced results. But Zack resisted
going to the kitchen. Though abhorrent to him, he knew that it was necessary
to try everything. What they learned from Gul Khan could save thousands of
lives. Besides, Zack had no authority over Colquitt.
They heard a much longer scream. Like the Spanish soccer announcer
who cries, GOOOOOOOOL, only like a wraith from hell. It seemed impossible
for a man to live through so much pain. He didn’t want to know what Colquitt
was doing to Gul Khan… But then they heard a thunderous metallic clang.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 262

As it rumbled through the house, Zack knew it must be Dara’s wood stove
toppling over. He hurtled from his chair and ran through the passageway into
the kitchen.
As he’d feared, the stove was on its side. Gul Khan had slipped his
handcuff off its leg. The cuff dangled from his right wrist, slapping against his
broken fingers as he grappled with Colquitt. He was holding Colquitt’s SIG
Sauer in his undamaged hand. Colquitt had his left hand locked around Gul
Khan’s wrist to keep the semi-automatic’s barrel pointed up.
“Let go of the gun!” Zack shouted in Russian. The ISI’s records said that
Gul Khan understood this language. “Lie face down on the floor, or I’ll blow
your head off!”
Gul Khan ignored Zack’s order. A larger man than the slender Colquitt,
he spun them toward a refrigerator on the kitchen’s far side. It was a model
that looked older than the Frigidaire Zack remembered from boyhood. It
hummed away, about four feet high. Gul Khan got his back against it, keeping
Colquitt in front of him. They continued to wrestle for the gun. It looked
obscene, because Gul Khan still was naked. Zack couldn’t get a firm bead on
the Afghan’s head.
Then Colquitt kneed him in the groin. It gained him a brief advantage,
enough to club his cast into Gul Khan’s throat. With the Afghan doubled over,
Colquitt wrenched away his pistol. He stuck it against Gul Khan’s lips. The
Afghan put his hands up.
“Now we’ll have to start all over,” said Colquitt. His voice rumbled like
always, but he hardly seemed out of breath. His soft, harmless face bore a
beatific smile. “But this time, I won’t be so gentle.”
Gul Khan reached back and grabbed something from the fruit bowl on
top of the old refrigerator. Zack almost fired past Colquitt’s head, but didn’t.
The hesitation wasn’t from his old aversion to firearms. He’d pretty much
crossed that bridge in Kazakhstan. It was because he saw that Gul Khan held
a hand grenade. It’s pin was bouncing on the floor.
“Get out!” screamed Colquitt.
Zack dived through the kitchen’s arch just as a fierce explosion went off.
He felt the shock wave but wasn’t hit by shrapnel. He came up from the floor
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 263

and stepped back in the room. Both Gul Khan and Colquitt were turned to
gore. He checked Colquitt for a pulse, but he was gone.
Zack had to think quickly. The neighbors would have heard the
grenade’s explosion. Unfriendlies might turn up soon. The fact that Gul Khan
had weapons hidden around Dara’s house didn’t necessarily confirm that he
was a terrorist. This man was no fundamentalist – he was clean-shaven, his
girlfriend didn’t wear a head scarf, and he’d shouted no religious oaths before
his leap to Paradise.
On the other hand, he’d readily killed himself, rather than tell Colquitt
anything. Zack made a quick search, but found no evidence other than two
more grenades, an old handgun, and an AK47 assault rifle. There was no
computer and no printed matter in the house other than a Koran. Dara said
that it had been her father’s.
There was no time to clean up. Zack searched Gul Khan’s clothes that
still were in the bedroom. There was no wallet or cell phone. He’d had a key
chain in his hand when Jalil stopped him at the Fiat. Together with Jalil, Zack
carried Colquitt’s body out of the house.
As he lugged the gory end, Zack caught himself feeling furious. Which
would be natural, except it wasn’t about Colquitt’s death. No, his anger came
from sheer frustration -- now he’d never learn who’d directed Colquitt to make
the threat about Lubov’s plutonium. Zack felt disgusted with himself. Colquitt
hadn’t been a friend, or even someone easy to respect, but he’d been an
effective agent and extremely brave.
They loaded Colquitt’s body into Gul Khan’s car. They’d need to use it,
since it would take Hyland too long to come back from the hospital. They’d
also have to take Dara with them. If they left her here, there was too much
chance she’d alert friends to intercept them before they could leave the Afghan
quarter. This time, he asked Jalil to pat her down. He apologized for the
offense, but Zack had to make sure she wasn’t armed.
Dara still insisted she’d never known where Gul Khan lived, or if he even
had a residence in Karachi. But as Jalil drove, Zack had an idea. During his
search, Jalil had found a cell phone in her pocket. Scrolling through its list of
calls, Zack found a frequently dialed number. After they reached the hospital
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 264

and had an ER intern pronounce Colquitt dead, Hyland used his contacts to
track down the phone number from Dara’s cell. It turned out to be a land line
in a prosperous neighborhood near Aladdin Park.
Before leaving in Hyland’s car, they searched Gul Khan’s Fiat. There was
nothing of importance in it. Gul Khan kept it very neat except for an
overflowing ash tray. But then Zack had another idea. He went back inside
the hospital and bribed a technician in the nuclear medicine department to let
him borrow a radiation monitoring instrument. Checking the car, his hunch
was right – Gul Khan had transported something very hot.
They drove across town to Clifton, past the Park Towers, a few more
turns, then onto Gul Khan’s street. It was an exclusive neighborhood, one of
Karachi’s best. There was a pair of security guards manning a barrier at the
corner. They were armed with Uzis, and insisted on checking i.d. There was
another manned barrier at the street’s far end.
“Gul Khan must have been doing very well to live here,” said Zack after
they’d satisfied the guards and rolled away. “Whatever he’s been smuggling,
it’s made him rich.”
“Yes, but also vulnerable,” said Hyland.
“What do you mean? This is the best protected neighborhood we’ve seen
in Karachi.”
“The logic’s backwards here. If you see a great deal of security, it’s a very
dangerous location.”
They continued halfway up the block until they reached Gul Khan’s
address. Watching Dara, Zack noticed she neither looked at the house as they
approached, nor looked away. Maybe she’d told the truth, and this was the
first time she’d been here. They parked in the elliptical drive. There was no
garage, and no other vehicles. Zack guessed that Gul Khan kept this Fiat
parked elsewhere, and changed cars every time he conducted business. The
rusty Fiat would have certainly looked out of place here, among the neighbors’
Land Rovers, Mercedes coupes, and Jaguars.
Zack asked Jalil to watch Dara while he and Hyland spoke with
neighbors. A sleekly dressed woman next door said that Gul Khan had bought
his villa only half a year ago. During those months, he’d been away twice, each
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 265

time for about two weeks. She knew nothing else about him. A very private
man, agreed the other neighbors. They’d never noticed any visitors.
Using Gul Khan’s key, Zack and Hyland entered the expensive house.
Inside they found no computer, safe, or documents of interest. They’d need to
get Pakistani intelligence to do a search of Gul Khan’s phone records, but Zack
doubted they’d find anything.
He made a sweep with the borrowed radiation detector again. This time,
it not only showed a hot zone, but the needle shot off the scale when he
checked the master bedroom’s closet. Up in a crawl space, Zack found a
knapsack containing a heavy, metal case. He knew better than to open it
immediately. He didn’t even want to get near it without protective clothing.
Presumably, the case was made of lead, but its seams must not be tight since
it emitted sizeable amounts of radiation.
Leaving Hyland at the house, Zack drove back to the hospital, returned
the scanner, and paid the department manager five hundred dollars for a
radiation-safe container, protective mask and apron, and lead-lined gloves.
Using them, he double shielded Gul Khan’s case for its trip to the U.S.
He strongly suspected that Gul Khan had kept some plutonium for
another sale before making the delivery to Adam Lindsey. Now the question
was where had it come from originally? The physicists at Lawrence Livermore
would be able to determine the isotope’s exact composition. Zack’s gut told
him it would prove to be Russian Pu-239.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 266

30

Adam remained in the modest hotel on Boulevard St. Laurent.

Yesterday, he’d taken the shuttle bus from the airport sixteen miles into
Montreal. He’d made two stops before checking into his room, one to buy a ski
cap and jacket, the other for a hacksaw. It had been easy removing the lead
canister containing his plutonium. He’d brought the folded wheelchair up the
back stairs, to be certain that the desk clerk wouldn’t see it. Now, its pieces fit
easily into his suitcase.
Though everything was ready, Adam was in no hurry. He’d decided to
wait another day. It wasn’t because of his injuries. Hang gliding was a
demanding activity, but he was experienced enough to carry this off despite his
hobbled condition. His take-off hill had excellent updrafts. He wouldn’t have
to run down it with the glider on his back.
Two quick strides, a horizontal leap as the rising air current took hold of
the glider’s weight, push out the bar to provide lift, pull it in a bit to stabilize,
then he’d be underway. The trip might make him ache, but it was doable. As
he’d learned last time, the night landing would be the most difficult part. But
Adam wasn’t worried. He was a trained athlete and very fit. There’d be clear
skies and strong moonlight for the next two nights.
No, the reason he waited in Montreal was to time this right. Once
underway, there’d be no stopping. If he reached Baltimore the day after
tomorrow, the target could be struck on Eid al-Adha. The Feast of Sacrifice,
commemorating Abraham’s great faith, his willingness to slay Isaac as Allah
had demanded. This date was the one that Dad had wanted.
Not that it was necessary for Adam to die. The explosion would be
detonated with a timer, and he’d be far away. But the choice of Eid al-Adha
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 267

would send an unmistakable message. Not only for the religious significance,
but this year the date fell precisely six months before 9/11.
Besides, he’d seen his bruised face posted on the FBI’s web site. Looking
in the mirror now, Adam could see the swelling had reduced already, and the
black eyes had changed to yellow patches drifting down his cheeks. He didn’t
expect that anyone would notice him during the trip to Baltimore, but just in
case, this delay would give his face more time to heal.
The next afternoon, a Saturday, Adam walked to the nearby Trailways
station carrying his suit case. He stopped in an alley behind a restaurant,
emptied the unused wheelchair pieces in a dumpster, covered them with
garbage, closed his suitcase, and continued to the station. He took a bus to
Phillipsburg, Quebec again. It wasn’t nearly as cold now that winter was
almost over, so he wore only a shirt beneath the new jacket he’d bought. On
this trip, the ground outside his window was mottled with alternating swaths of
white and brown. In another month, Phillipsburg would be crowded with
tourists. But for now, the area was quiet. Lake Champlain’s ice cover was
slowly melting, and the spring fishermen hadn’t yet arrived.
He walked south from the bus station until he came to the storage
facility on the edge of Phillipsburg. Inside his locker, Adam transferred the
lead tube from his suitcase into a backpack, along with the few other items
he’d need. He waited until dusk, checked outside, found the area deserted,
then carried his second hang glider toward the hill.
Though it was another ultra-light model, the uphill climb was much
harder this time. On the last occasion, he’d still been recovering from the
cracked ribs inflicted by the Acholi tribesmen. That was nothing compared to
Iqbal’s stretching of his knees and ankles. But Adam made the walk in fifteen
minutes, with only two brief stops to rest. He stood atop the hill just as the
moon rose. The wind’s direction was ideal. It took another ten minutes to
assemble the hang glider, by which time the moonlight grew strong enough to
switch off his flash light. He clipped it to his belt, along with his GPS device.
Adam put on his helmet and the backpack, strapped into the hang
glider’s frame, waited for the wind to calm a little, then took off. It was easy.
He caught the updraft immediately and started rising. He banked toward the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 268

border on a breeze from the northwest. The moon’s glow was bright enough to
see the tops of individual trees below. He was dressed in black and the hang
glider itself was black, so he wouldn’t be visible from the ground. Not unless
he happened to cross someone’s line of sight directly toward the moon.
Adam illuminated the screen of his GPS device. It tracked his progress
over a grid of local roads. He smiled with relief when he saw he’d crossed into
Vermont. Another mile, and he identified the road he wanted. His alternate
landing site was on the other side of Swanton from the one he’d used before.
He’d decided that this one would be better, in case someone had grown curious
about his gouge across that snowy field the first time.
A quarter mile past an intersection of two gravel roads, he identified the
farm house’s lights. He swooped over it, tipping his nose down to lose altitude,
continued descending for another thousand yards, caught sight of the patchy
ground, then thrust his control bar all the way out to go into a stall.
Ordinarily, Adam was adept at landings. His first instructor had been
astonished at the expert technique of his first try. Like a gymnast scoring a
perfect ten, Adam hadn’t taken a single step as he alit. Now, he expected it
would jolt his battered knees, but that was all right. So what if his form was
off and he took a tumble? Who the hell was watching? Maybe Dad, if he was
wrong there was no afterlife, but this was no time to be prideful.
The wind sheared suddenly. It raised his wingtip sharply on the right.
Compensating at once, Adam threw his weight in this direction. It kept his left
wing from being driven into the ground, but now another gust made him rise
erratically. Just as he’d leveled out again, a third gust made him plunge. This
time, there wasn’t time for a correction. He slammed into the ground, a three
point landing with two of them his helmet and his shoulder.
The helmet prevented a concussion, but Adam did a severe face plant.
While he spat out snow, dirt, and a bloody string of saliva, along with the
bottom half of an already broken tooth, Adam checked his shoulder. It was
badly scraped beneath his torn ski jacket.
No problem. He’d take this trade any day over further injury to his
knees. He unhooked from the glider, then had to spend ten minutes searching
through the snow to recover his GPS device. He wouldn’t need it any more, but
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 269

it was important not to leave evidence. He kicked snow over the blood that
he’d spat out.
He limped out of the field, stamped his muddy boots on the road, then
carried the glider into a culvert. Now he hiked into the town again. It took
much longer, but there was no hurry. Only a few cars passed him on the
road, but he saw their headlights well in time and stepped into the trees.
In Swanton, he recovered his second vehicle from the same apartment
complex. It was a Pontiac van. There was actually a third car in a different
location, in case either of the first two wouldn’t start. He returned to the
culvert, loaded the hang glider into his van, took it to the storage locker, then
got underway.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 270

31

Zack could think of only one person who might put them back on Adam’s
track. The physicists at Lawrence Livermore had confirmed that the small
amount of radioactive material found in Gul Khan’s case was Pu-239. Its
isotopic signature was consistent with the Russian production facilities at
Semipalatinsk. But the Russians had reported no thefts from this facility.
Which wasn’t unusual – they hated to disclose the depth of their problem with
nuclear security. But Zack’s mafiozhi friend Yuri Trebin had heard nothing,
either.
Meanwhile, the CIA was having no success tracing Gul Khan’s travels
from the time of Lubov’s message to the present. The Afghani smuggler must
have been an extremely cautious man. His phone records revealed nothing,
other than the liaison with Dara Noor. His home had no computer; no papers
of importance turned up. He was the registered owner of the house, but it had
been a cash transaction. This turned out to be a common practice in Pakistan.
The former owner knew nothing of Gul Khan’s background.
Other than the ISI, his name appeared nowhere in Pakistani intelligence
files. The ISI itself had little on him, just information gleaned from informants.
Apparently, Gul Khan was an arms smuggler with a reputation for secrecy and
violence. When professionals interrogated Dara, they produced nothing more
than what she’d already told Zack. And the CIA team sent to work Karachi had
failed to identify a single friend or relative. There was little doubt that Gul
Khan had been the conduit between the Russians and Adam Lindsey, but all
information about their transaction seemed to have vanished with the
smuggler’s death.
Zack phoned his old drinking buddy Grigori Artsev, the Moscow police
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 271

official. Sure, the investigation of Lubov’s murder had been squelched, but if
anyone would know who was responsible, it was Artsev. He knew everybody,
including the KGB old-timers, because that’s where he’d started out.
Whoever wanted Lubov dead was likely the same party responsible for
stealing the Pu-239. The physicists at Lawrence Livermore had already
established that the plutonium Adam Lindsey was carrying into the U.S. came
from the same production run. So the man who’d ordered Lubov’s murder
was either Evgeni Kovanov’s controller, or he’d sold it to this person. If it were
the former, he’d be able to call off Adam, assuming the necessary pressure
could be applied in time. In the latter case, this person might know details of
the operation. Or at least he could be forced to reveal the party who’d bought
the Pu-239.
Neither chance seemed good, but this was Zack’s only lead. It was time
to call in the favor he’d done for Artsev twenty-five years ago by enabling his
brother’s defection. Artsev took Zack’s call, but provided no fresh information.
Whether he actually knew nothing or was unable to say, it was clear from his
terse answers that this conversation would go nowhere.
In the first decade after communism’s fall, there used to be so many
murders – mafiozhi, small time criminals, kidnapping victims, tourists – the
police were overwhelmed and few cases were solved. You could commission the
execution of a rival for as little as $20 U.S. Nowadays, it seemed to be the
government behind many of the most suspicious deaths. Zack couldn’t blame
Artsev for not wanting to say, especially over a telephone. E-mail would be no
better. He had no choice but to talk with his old friend in person.
Zack made the flight reservation immediately. He didn’t ask permission
from Padgett or even Clark. He had a greater chance of success by keeping his
trip unofficial. The Russians had tried to kill him twice already. The fewer
people who knew where he was going, the better. Not that Zack really thought
someone inside Langley would try to burn him, but his status as a State
Department employee had always made him an outsider. Someone to be
permanently regarded with suspicion. And this was before the American
School massacre turned him into a pariah. Now that Grey Colquitt and two
other CIA men had died in Zack’s company, there were few at Langley who
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 272

didn’t consider him a Jonah.

Zack didn’t even use a CIA vehicle for his drive to Dulles. But he’d sold
his own car to finance his trip to Myanmar, so he took a taxi. The only person
he’d given his itinerary was Genna, who was staying at his apartment.
He felt embarrassed that his financial condition had necessitated living
in such a dump. But when she’d asked him to recommend a reasonable hotel,
of course he’d given Genna the extra key. Zack knew she couldn’t say it, but
she’d rather sleep on the street than stay with Julianna in Fairfax. Since the
age of twelve, she’d never been able to get through a whole day in the same
house as Juliana without it turning into a pitched fight. And now, Genna’s
recent life was ripe with subjects for another mother/daughter blow-up.
Though Genna was determined to resume her work in Ethiopia, Zack
had persuaded her to delay the trip another week. She still had headaches
from the concussion she’d suffered at the Burmese drug lab. She needed to
recuperate… especially, considering her pregnancy.
Zack recalled their brief discussion:
“What you said to that Kazakhi farmer who caught us siphoning gas.
Did it mean that you’re expecting?”
“Wow – you guessed.” A cautious smile touched Genna’s cheeks as they
turned rosy. “I was going to tell you on Friday after I see Dr. Greenberg. Just
to make sure everything’s all right first.”
“Adam is the father?”
“That’s right,” she said with an uncharacteristically guarded tone. “In
Africa, I thought that he was someone else. I thought we’d stay together, raise
a family, love each other.”
“Still, you’ve made your mind up?”
“To keep the baby? You bet I have.”
“Good,” Zack said immediately. “You’ll make a terrific mother, sweetie.
And I know I’m going to love spoiling my grandchild… You haven’t told your
mom yet?”
“No. I was hoping to be back in Ethiopia first. Tell her in an e-mail.”
“Now, Genna…”
“Yeah, Dad, I know. Not very mature. But I didn’t really mean that.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 273

Just wishful thinking. I hate it when I fight with Mom. But I’ll talk to her
before I leave. I promise. I’ll find some way to tell her.”
And that’s everything they’d said about it. Lengthy discussions had
never been necessary between them. The love and trust they shared was all
they needed.

At Dulles, Zack waited through a long line, trying to come up with a plan.
But there were no good choices. He could think of no better strategy than
asking Artsev to meet him for a drink. He felt certain that Artsev knew more.
After all, on the night of Lubov’s murder, he’d returned Zack’s call in only forty
minutes. When had a Russian official ever been so prompt, even for a friend?
Usually, the simplest inquiries took weeks. But even if Artsev refused to
disclose anything more, their private conversation might yield indications of the
best way to proceed. If necessary, Zack still knew many people at the embassy,
including a few with diplomatic cover.
When he finally reached the Aeroflot counter, Zack showed his false i.d.
It passed without a problem, so he paid, then checked his luggage. With no
advance booking, the ticket’s price was outrageous, but he had plenty of money
left from Colquitt’s slush fund. He headed for the security gate, but before he
reached its line, two large men in gray suits caught up with him.
“Mr. Zachariah Bowen?” asked the one on his left, showing his Secret
Service badge.
“That’s right.” No sense denying it. “Would you like to see i.d.? I’ll just
reach into my jacket, if that’s okay.”
“No, I recognize you, sir. Would you please come with us?”
“What’s this about?” It can’t be news about the search for Adam, or they
would’ve called. And the Secret Service isn’t involved. “I have a flight to
catch.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir. But I need you to come with us
immediately. The President wants to see you.”
“Oh… Then I’m not under arrest?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 274

“Of course not, sir. We can’t officially require you to accompany us.”
“But it would be strongly advisable. Yeah, I get it.”
He turned and walked between them. He didn’t bother mentioning that
he had luggage checked onto the flight. If Brad had sent these two to get his
attention, he must be furious.
He’s determined to keep this from being about the Russians, no matter
what the truth.
They drove straight to the White House. There was no conversation
throughout the trip. Zack signed in at the ground floor entrance, received a
visitor’s badge, then was escorted up the elevator to the first floor. Walking
briskly, they wound around the corridor to the President’s study, a comfortable
room next to the Oval Office. This was Zack’s first time inside it, but he knew
it was where Brad did most of his real work. The two agents left, closing the
door behind them.
“You were on your way to Russia?” Brad started in immediately. His
tone was full of disgust, like a teacher fed up after many tries to reach a
wayward student. “Russia, of all places! Haven’t I made myself clear?”
“Perfectly. But how did you know so fast? Am I under surveillance?”
Brad ignored Zack’s question. They glared across the desk, the look
conveying years of anger with each other. Julianna. Genna. Afghanistan.
And now this Adam Lindsey crisis. Both felt that the other had repeatedly
breached the loyalty due a trusted friend. Whatever happened, the President
was resolved that Zack Bowen mustn’t be allowed to cost him re-election.
I won’t let this fucking usurper steal another piece out of my life, Zack
swore to himself . Someday when Brad retired from politics, it was inevitable
he’d convince Julianna to tell Genna the real story of her birth. He’d try to
worm his way into her life. I’ll kill this asshole before I’d let him claim
grandfather status.
“You’re supposed to be working the Canadian border,” Brad said finally.
“I suppose it’s slipped your mind we have a terrorist up there, trying to bring
plutonium into the U.S.”
“No, that’s why I have to fly to Moscow. We’ve lost any other chance to
track his route.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 275

“Bullshit! You’re obsessed with the goddamned Russians.”

“Where do you think the plutonium came from? And now I’ll lose a day,
since that was the last flight. Unless you have the Air Force take me. I need to
speak with a source in person. It could damned well make the difference.”
“I know about your source. I listened to the tape. Sounds like this
Inspector Artsev doesn’t know much. He can’t tell us who supplied the
plutonium. Or won’t.”
“Then you agree it’s Russian Pu-239?”
“Of course it is. That’s clear from the Livermore report. But as usual,
you’ve missed the point. It’s a fundamentalist operation. Everything I’ve seen
supports this conclusion. It’s inescapable. You should know as well as I do
that they’ve bought nuclear material from Russians many times already. Now
cut the fucking loose cannon crap. Your cowboy expeditions have already got
three agents killed. You either get your ass to Montreal and find where Adam
Lindsey’s gone, or go the fuck back to writing Siberia for Imbeciles.”
“It’s Russia for- Wait, are you ordering me not to go there?”
“Damned straight. If you force me to put a hold on your passport, I’ll
god-damned do it. All of them. I’ll put your description on the terrorist stop
list. And don’t try any more threats about Genna and Julianna. I let you get
away with that once, for old times sake. Try it again, and these men outside
my door will find some place for you to rot.”
With eyes like slits, and lips so tight they pressed into his teeth, Zack
stared hard at his old friend. Who clearly was a friend no longer.
But Zack fully realized that Brad held all the power here. He willed his
outrage to cool. This was too important. Within seconds, he felt his pulse
slowing. He might be forced to take this to the press, but he made no such
promise. It wouldn’t change Brad’s mind. It would only get him whisked off to
Alaska.
“Look, we’ve been through this before,” he patiently explained. “The
Lindseys have no connection to jihadists. You leaped to that conclusion simply
because Adam’s mother is a convert to Islam. But everything about the father
says he was a long-hidden Russian agent who went active around the time the
Pu-239 was stolen. He’s obviously involved his son in the mission. And it
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 276

makes far more sense for their controller to be a Russian than some al-Qaeda
type.”
“Then why have we just caught an al-Shahab cell in Seattle with thirty
kilos of plutonium?”
Brad’s smug expression beamed with satisfaction. More at being right
than at the terrorists’ arrest, it seemed. Finally, he’d proved his intellectual
superiority over Zack.
“You’re serious? Has this information been confirmed?”
“Shit, yeah. I’ve been tied up all morning handling it. We have strong
evidence that this was part of a coordinated operation. The situation couldn’t
be more serious -- our physicists at Livermore say the plutonium we recovered
is from the same batch as this Afghani smuggler Gul Khan’s.”
“It’s what?” Zack reeled with consternation. “I’ve heard nothing about
this.”
“No one has. We’ve kept it off the news. There’d be widespread panic
otherwise. Without even knowing about Adam Lindsey, the press would realize
this was intended as the second in al-Shahab’s series of attacks. These
fuckheads mean to set off multiple nuclear explosions around America. Those
men we stopped in Washington had papers proving they were headed for Los
Angeles. So we can assume that Adam Lindsey’s target is another major
American city. Probably east coast. Could be New York again. Or
Washington. I’m sure they’d like another crack at the White House.”
A firm knock sounded from the door. After Brad said, “Enter,” the Secret
Service team leader came in.
“Sir, you’ll want to switch on your television,” he said. “There’s a
breaking story.”
Brad reached for a remote that he kept in his desk drawer. He didn’t ask
Zack to leave. CNN was showing a devastated scene, live from Atlanta
according to the announcer.
To Zack, it looked like another truck bombing. Not a chlorine tanker this
time. The burned out husk in the background had the shape of a delivery van.
Smoke was pouring from numerous vehicles that had been caught nearby.
Blankets appeared to have been draped across many bodies on the ground. A
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 277

chain link fence was mangled in front of a steel frame building with a hole the
size of a large house extending up to its third floor. Lights were flashing on
police and rescue vehicles, reflecting off glass pellets covering the street. The
crawl at the bottom of the screen said a powerful explosion had occurred
outside the CDC complex. There were sixteen known fatalities so far.
The President’s phone began to ring. Before he’d even answered the first
call, all four lines were lit.
As Brad set up an emergency meeting, Zack stepped back and watched
the screen. The cameraman seemed to be on a rooftop from a block away.
CNN’s reporter said that police had established a wide perimeter, fearing
radiation. The scene shifted to a group of first responders, dressed head to foot
in protective clothing. They looked like men about to step into a nuclear
plant’s core. The previously unknown group al-Qaeda in America had claimed
responsibility. Their statement cited this attack as the first of many dirty
bombs.
“Goddamn!” Brad’s face turned red with fury as he got off the phone. “I
knew it! I’ll bet anything this is some branch of al-Shahab. They mean to
strike all across the U.S. We’ll have thousands of radiation deaths.”
Zack felt stunned that Brad had actually been right about the terrorists.
Adam really was working with jihadists all along. The Russians might have
been the plutonium’s source, but the attack’s inspiration had come from al-
Qaeda.
Still, it could have been far worse. With Russian expertise, the
plutonium might have gone into a thermonuclear device. Fundamentalists had
never demonstrated a capability to produce nuclear weapons. Dirty bombs,
despite the fear they inspired, were many orders of magnitude less lethal. You
could be within a half-mile of a dirty bomb as it went off, and receive less
radiation than an average person gets from natural sources in a year.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” Zack pointed out. “I’ll bet those sixteen
deaths were from the blast, not radiation.”
“Sure, but they’ll start dropping soon. It’ll be like Hiroshima. People
with third degree burns all across their bodies, skin sloughing off, puking their
guts out. I got briefed on radiation sickness after we caught the cell
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 278

transporting plutonium through Seattle. There isn’t a worse way to die.”

“Yeah, but dirty bombs don’t yield nearly the dosage of a nuke. Like the
device that Chechen rebels planted in Moscow’s Izmailovo Park. They packed it
with cesium they got from a cancer treatment clinic. You would’ve had to
stand right next to it to get as much radiation as an oncologist is exposed to in
a year. Same thing with the bomb Padilla was accused of planning. And that
New Year’s Eve scare we had a few years back, when dozens of DoE scientists
were sent to bowl games to scan for radiation.”
“A-list receptions, too. I was attending one at the Lincoln Center when
they showed up. But never mind that. You’re forgetting one important fact.
These bastards have ninety kilos of plutonium between them. That’s a hell of a
lot more than a few grams of some medical isotope.”
“You’re right. This is extremely serious. I wasn’t saying it’s not. But you
need to let the public know the actual level of danger. Or the terrorists will
achieve their main objective. It doesn’t matter if the radiation they spread kills
very few. They’d love nothing better than to create a panic.”
“Well, dammit, I know that. You might not think much of my intellect,
but I do manage to sound out all the big words in my NIEs.” Brad glowered
with distaste at Zack. “Again, you’ve missed the point. No matter what I
choose to share with the public, the U.S. will suffer major economic harm.
That’s why they’ve chosen to hit our largest and most important cities. No
matter how much I reassure America about the radiation, people will be afraid
to go about their business. Commerce will shut down. I’m goddamned certain
they have D.C. on their list. Whether they pull it off or not, it’ll cripple
government activities.”
“Then why Atlanta? I mean, the CDC’s important, sure, but it’s not vital
to our economy.”
“Isn’t that obvious? They’re not stupid. This is psychological warfare.
Atlanta’s the capital of my home state. They can’t make a clearer statement
that they mean to rip apart my country… Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to
take a massive crap before my meeting starts. You get your ass out to Langley.
I mean it, Zack. You’d goddamned better follow orders this time. I want every
available agent hunting for Adam Lindsey.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 279

“This is still a CIA operation? What about the FBI? I would have
expected SIOC’s command center to take over.”
“I’ve got them searching, too, of course. And Homeland Security and all
the others. What do you think, I just walked into this job?”
“I didn’t say anything like that. So where are we concentrating?”
“Atlanta. Pay attention. I’ll bet that bastard did the set-up for them.
Scouting, advance work, delivered the material. After all, he’s from that area.”
“Huntsville, actually. It’s in Alabama, not Georgia.”
“Dammit, I know that.” Brad bristled noticeably. He was good and tired
of Zack disparaging his intelligence. “It’s only a few hundred miles away. I’ve
already told the DCI, but make sure Operations knows that’s where to
concentrate our men.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was the first time Zack had ever called Brad “sir.” But their
relationship had changed completely. He was the President. What’s more, he’d
been right.
“Oh, and one more thing. I want you to bring Genna into this.”
“You what?”
“Look, I know we have our differences about her, but she’s the one
person who knows Adam Lindsey well.”
“She’s been debriefed. She’s told us all she knows.”
“Doesn’t matter. She might notice something as you search. Something
that reminds her of his habits.”
“All right, that’s possible. But--”
For a second, Zack considered relaying the news of Genna’s pregnancy.
Brad wouldn’t want her placed in a stressful situation any more than Zack did.
Never mind the substantial danger.
No, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. If Genna wanted to, herself, that
was her decision.
“But what?” asked Brad.
Impatience stretched across his face. There were dozens of things he
must do to deal with this emergency. Every minute counted, and this jerk, like
always, couldn’t get with the program.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 280

“Nothing,” said Zack. “It’s just, Genna’s still getting bouts of nausea
from a blow to the head she suffered in Myanmar. But you’re right -- this is an
emergency. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 281

32

Outside the White House, Zack called Genna. She’d already heard the
news from Atlanta. Naturally, she wanted to do whatever she could to help.
She said that she was feeling much better today. Zack arranged to meet her at
CIA headquarters. He still didn’t have a car, so he took a taxi. Genna had
reclaimed her Camry from her best friend Eve, who’d garaged it while she
worked in Ethiopia. Her driver’s license remained current.
En route, Zack phoned Hal Clark, who arranged for Genna’s pass. From
her prior work with the State Department, she’d already been vetted for
clearance at a fairly high level. Clark had just heard from DCI Paolucci, who
was huddled with the President.
“We’re pulling agents from just about everywhere to join the search for
Lindsey,” said Clark. “Plus, I’ve sent Colquitt’s former team to work our end of
the investigation in Atlanta.”
“Where do you need me?” asked Zack.
“For now, I want you to get your daughter up to speed. Then take her to
Montreal. It’s possible Lindsey has more plutonium and is heading for a
different target. But on the off chance he’s still in Montreal, I want you to take
your daughter up there, see what you can spot. She speaks Arabic, correct?”
“Yes. Fluently.”
“Good. Try the Moslem neighborhoods first.”
“Okay. Then what, if we have no luck?”
“Just keep looking. Your daughter might recognize the sort of place that
Lindsey frequents.”
What Clark didn’t say, but Zack heard clearly in his tone, was that no
other agents were willing to team with him. Everywhere he went, good people
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 282

had died. Islamabad, Kazakhstan, Karachi. And at the start of this in Moscow,
his old friend Lubov from the Threat Reduction Program. Everybody probably
thought his murder was Zack’s fault, too.
Once they reached the Operations floor, Zack reported to Clark’s
assistant, Dean Osterveldt. He was given a temporary work station and access
codes to the necessary databases, then briefed Genna on what they’d learned of
Adam’s travels since Kazakhstan.
“So the last place you know he’s been is Montreal?” she asked.
“Right. Is that significant? Did he ever mention it to you?”
“No. Not that I can think of. But he does speak French.”
“Along with Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian, if I recall. Now,
what about his Arabic? There’s no record of him studying it.”
“He learned it while in Ethiopia. Adam’s amazingly good at languages.”
“Could be he already knew it, but never let on.”
“I don’t think so. It was very broken the first time I heard him try.”
“Yeah, but this guy’s a chameleon. That could’ve been an acting job.”
“Maybe. But that’s not important now, is it?”
“No. Not really.”
“What I was thinking about him speaking French was that he’d have no
trouble playing the part of a native Quebecois. He can take on any accent.”
“Good point. Plus he’s used a wide variety of i.d. We’ll have to assume
that in addition to his first Canadian passport, he has another with a French
name. By the way, the name he used flying into Montreal was Michael Evans.
Does that mean anything to you?”
“No. Except, he had a dog named Mike when he was little. He said his
mother slipped sometimes and called it Misha, because that was her dog’s
name as a kid. But I guess that’s not much of a clue.”
“Afraid not… So you don’t think he’s been to Montreal before?”
“If he has, it never came up.”
“What about other cities? Did he ever mention favorite ones?”
“You mean places he’s been to several times? Like he was scouting
them?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking. What about New York?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 283

“Matter of fact, Adam hates it.”

“He said that?”
“No, but he made a face when I told him one of my favorite trips when I
worked for State was when I had to go to the U.N. I’d always try to stay the
weekend, so I could do things in New York. You know how much I love going to
museums. But Adam said he’d only been to New York once, and that was more
than enough for him. Said he can’t imagine how anyone who lives there puts
up with the crowds and noise and crime and dirt and traffic jams. Not to
mention the expense.”
“Maybe that’s not what he really hated. You did mention the U.N.”
“As far as I can tell, he loves the U.N. At least, the good work it does, like
helping refugees. I think, it’s just, growing up in Alabama, he’s much more
comfortable in towns or in the country.”
“What about D.C. -- what’s he think of it?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s never been here. He knew nothing about any of the
places I described. But you’re right – I guess that could have just been acting,
too.”
“Is there any city that he does know well?”
“Well, I hate to say it, but Atlanta. Coming from Alabama, that was the
big city to him. He said he’s still a Braves fan. Went to games there every year.
First thing I thought of when I heard the news. You don’t think that was him
at the CDC, do you?”
“Could be. The assumption around here is that Adam delivered the
plutonium, but my guess is no. He only got into Montreal two days ago. It
would take a full day to drive down, then if it were me, I’d want more time to
set things up. Besides, it looks like this was a suicide attack. Al-Qaeda in
America’s statement referred to martyrs. Plus security films don’t show anyone
running from that delivery van. Adam simply doesn’t seem the type. Of
course, you know him a lot better than anything I’ve learned so far.”
“No, I agree. I’ve never met anyone more full of life…”
Genna’s eyes turned sad. She exhaled through her nose, then wet her
lips.
“Yeah, I’m sure it wasn’t him,” said Zack. “Why go to all the trouble of
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 284

disappearing in Sudan, if he didn’t plan on surviving what he’s doing?”

“Wow, you’re right. I didn’t think of that. So that’s why he went through
all that business with the Zaghawas. So he could ‘escape’ his kidnappers later.
Then it would explain where he was during the time that he went missing. He
meant to simply go back to his life.”
Genna had to wonder if this included her.
“He wasn’t religious, was he?” Zack asked. “The one thing that really
stumps me is how a guy like that got mixed up with fundamentalists.”
“I don’t understand it, either. He thought religion was absurd. All of
them, especially when they clash. People fighting over which archaic myth
they favored.”
“His mother’s got a strong faith, though. She’s a convert to Islam.”
“She told me. But the God she believes in is benevolent. She certainly
doesn’t support violence, and she never would have taught Adam to embrace
hatred. I got to know her pretty well in Kazakhstan. She’s a wonderful person.
I can only imagine how bad she must feel about this. And she’s lost her
husband, too.”
“It must be agony for her. Then again, thank goodness she wasn’t on his
side. Or we probably never would have got you home alive.”
“I don’t believe that, Dad. No matter what else Adam’s doing, he
wouldn’t want me dead. We meant something to each other. Something real.
That part, I know it wasn’t acting.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Mrs. Lindsey told us he refused to carry out his
father’s plan if anything happened to you. Evgeni Kovanov would have
sacrificed you in a moment, if keeping you alive endangered his operation.”
“Yeah, I got that feeling. I even overheard them arguing about it. It was
in Russian, so I didn’t understand, but I kept hearing my name.”
That afternoon, they flew to Montreal. Zack knew that FBI agents had
tried already, but he decided to circulate Adam’s picture among cabbies. It had
worked in Karachi, after all. When he came up empty, Zack rented a car, then
showed the picture to employees at the train and bus stations. No one
recognized either version of Adam Lindsey.
Next, Zack began showing Adam’s picture around Montreal’s Islamic
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 285

neighborhoods. It was a good thing that Genna was along. The necessity to
send teams into Atlanta, Los Angeles, Washington, and New York had seriously
stretched the government’s supply of Arabic speakers. More were coming from
overseas, but for now, Genna was the only CIA, FBI, or Homeland Security
asset in Montreal who was fluent in Arabic.
They had no success among the mosques and stores and cultural
centers they visited. Though no public disclosure had been made about the
search for Adam Lindsey, Canadians were almost as agitated about Atlanta’s
dirty bomb as people were in the U.S. The Arabic speaking community was
fearful about backlash. It was difficult to find anyone who’d talk to them.
As they circulated, locals started pointing at Zack and Genna, eyeing
them with deep resentment. If Adam was hiding in this community, or if he
had associates who’d helped him in Montreal, they’d never learn it this way.
At the last mosque they entered, Zack had the distinct feeling he’d better
get Genna out quickly before someone attacked her. He was unarmed, because
they’d taken a commercial flight and he lacked credentials to carry a concealed
weapon. As the imam glowered at Genna, and four men converged from the
aisles, Zack quickly scanned the walls for something he could use as a stave.
He saw nothing, so he just took Genna’s arm and abruptly pulled her toward a
door. The men didn’t follow, but muttered curses at them.
“Hey, I just thought of something,” Genna said once they were outside.
“About how Adam might enter the U.S.”
“How? Padgett’s been concentrating the search on small marine craft.
Some of Adam’s friends from Duke said he knows how to sail.”
“That’s true. And he likes to go ocean fishing, so I guess he’d have no
trouble handling a motorboat, either. But that isn’t what I was thinking.”
“What – a small aircraft? He doesn’t have a pilot’s license, does he? If he
had experience, he would have flown that seaplane, himself.”
“No, Adam’s not a pilot, not that I know of. But he likes to hang glide.
The mosque’s gilded ceiling made me think of it. When we were having a
friendly argument about religion, Adam said the only time he ever thought
there might be something to this heaven stuff was when he was soaring far
above the earth. He said that it’s like feeling an angel’s hand guiding you
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 286

along.”
“Good Lord! You could have something. So Adam is an expert at hang
gliding?”
“I don’t know about expert, but I’m sure he’s done it many times. He had
lots of stories. Usually with this fraternity bud of his named Jake. They’d go
together to the Blue Ridge.”
“Do you remember Jake’s last name?”
“I don’t think Adam ever mentioned it.”
“That’s all right. I think there was a Jake among the Duke friends they
interviewed. I can get his last name from the transcript.”
After connecting to the secure site from his laptop, Zack quickly located
the right file. There was a Jake Wisnoski on the list. The transcript of his
interview said nothing about hang gliding, but Zack got the contact number
and phoned Jake immediately. He learned that Adam not only was skilled at
hang gliding, but he’d practiced night landings on more than one occasion!
Always in North Carolina, however, as far as Jake Wisnoski knew. No, he’d
never heard about a trip to Montreal, or anywhere in Canada. New England,
either, for that matter.
After making sure that Jake knew nothing else, Zack hung up. He found
a map of Quebec in the glove compartment. He’d never gone hang gliding,
himself, but he knew that taking off required running down a slope.
From the map, he could see the area that bordered Vermont to the south
of Montreal was hilly terrain. There were several ski resorts identified. Over
the border, to the east of Lake Champlain, it looked like rural country, with
farmland and tracts of forest between scattered towns. But Adam hadn’t
brought a hang glider to Montreal, and he wouldn’t do anything so obvious as
buy one here, would he?
They searched for nearby dealers, found two locations, called them,
described Adam. They were told there’d been no recent customers meeting his
description. It seemed far more likely that Adam had stored hang gliding
equipment near the border on a previous trip.
They drove down to the town of Sutton, found the tourist bureau, asked
if there were local hills used by hang gliding enthusiasts.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 287

“No, nothing like that here,” said a guy manning the kiosk. “People come
here to ski. Or fish in spring. You might try Vermont. I hear they have a few
places.”
Zack and Genna crossed into Vermont ten minutes later. The border
post didn’t seem to be on a state of particular alert.
“Seen anything unusual the last couple days?” Zack asked a Border
Protection officer, while extending his new CIA i.d.
“No – the FBI’s been here twice already. Showed everyone that terrorist’s
picture. I know you folks don’t like each other, but you should at least check
notes.”
“Sorry, but we had to ask again.”
“What about strange rumors?” Genna asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you live somewhere near here, right?”
“Uh-huh. Oh, I get it. Has anyone seen a stranger coming through the
woods, you mean.”
“Right. Or something weird, like hang gliding.”
“No, nothing like that. But now that you mention it, Bert Toomey was
going on about crop circles last week. My wife, she’s a waitress, she heard Bert
at the diner.”
“Crop circles, you say?”
“Yeah, and I know what you’re thinking. This is the end of winter.
There’s no crops in the fields. Heck, last week, they still had snow cover. But
Bert’s not usually a nut case. He musta meant circles in his snow, like some
guy had a six-pack or two, then decided to do wheelies with his ski-mobile.
Anyway, those other agents, the ones from the FBI, they said this suspect
arrived in Montreal two days ago. Bert’s crop circles were last week.”
“Sure,” said Zack. “But I’d like to check it out. Where’s this Bert live,
anyway?”
“Out near Swanton, ‘bout a mile north on Seventy-eight.”
“That would be real close to the border, wouldn’t it?”
“You betcha. We have another station there. But I’m sure you folks have
pes- I mean checked with them a bunch of times, too.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 288

“Right. Well, thank you for your trouble.”

They drove to Swanton, got directions to the Toomey farm, then found
Bert in his cattle barn. He was more than glad to tell them all about the
incident. Everyone else was sick of hearing about it.
Turned out his dog had started barking furiously on a windy night ten
days ago. Usually, this meant a raccoon was in the garbage bins or one time it
had been a bear. But he’d found nothing unusual outside. The dog wouldn’t
shut up, though. When Bert let it off its leash, it ran into the upper field. By
the time Bert got his shotgun and his flashlight, then caught up, there was
nothing to see, except for a rough circle in the snow. Some of it was smooth,
like something had brushed across it, some was pits and gouges, and a lot of it
was foot prints.
“No, none of it was ski-mobile tracks,” Bert said.
“Did the tracks lead anywhere?” asked Zack.
“Yep. That’s just the thing. They led out to the road, but none of them
led in. So that’s my question – how’d they get there? I was thinking a
parachute – but it was dark and windy. No one’s that crazy. Unless, someone
had to jump out of a plane in trouble. But there wasn’t any crash, or I woulda
heard it. So I’m thinking – mind you, I’m not the type to believe in UFOs or
nothing, but I’m thinking something strange is up. I go back to the house to
tell Mary, that’s my wife. Plus I want my older boy Tom to come, so we’ll have
two shotguns, case there’s trouble. I had to drag my dog Boots away.”
“Did you find anything else when you came back?”
“Yep. Not at the circle, but once we let Boots follow the tracks, we saw a
car down by the road. It was pulled over by some bushes and we saw a tall
feller strapping something to his ski racks. I shouted to him, but we were
pretty far away and the wind was kicking up a roar. Boots started barking
again, frantic to get off his lead, but I didn’t want him getting shot or nothing,
so I kept him on it. Then the feller finishes strapping on this thing. Whatever
it was, it was long, stuck all the way over his trunk and hood. I know it weren’t
skis.”
“Did it have wings?”
“Wings, you say? No, not so much wings, but it sure looked like a sail
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 289

wrapped around a mast. I didn’t want to say nothing ‘bout that in town, they
was razzing me enough about ET, but that’s exactly what it looked like. Like
some kind of alien had set down in a space boat, now he was packing it up to
drive away.”
“Drive away in what?”
“Why, in a regular car, of course. Couldn’t see what kind in the dark,
but it was a sedan, a big one. Could be one of them old Cadillacs or
Oldsmobiles. I even ran after it with Tom. Tom’s a real good runner. Won
the county title in the four hundred. He got way ahead of me, so I hollered for
him to get the tag if he could.”
“Did he?”
“Couldn’t. Car took off by the time Tom reached the road.”
“Damn,” said Zack. “We sure could’ve used that plate number.”
“But you believe me about the circles? No one else sure does. I realize
that they’re melted now, but I know what I saw. I swear to God it was exactly
like I said. You can ask Tom when he gets home from school.”
“No, we believe you, Mr. Toomey,” Genna said. “It’s too bad you didn’t
get the license plate, but we thank you for your time.”
“Never said that I don’t know the tag. I have it written in my wallet.”
“I don’t understand,” said Zack. “I thought your son missed it.”
“Yep, he did. But he had his cell phone in his pocket. Teenagers never
go nowhere without them, you know. So I borrowed it and called Jeff
Wakefield. Lives on the edge of Swanton, right where Seventy-eight runs into
Seven. They have a stoplight there, so I figured Jeff might get a chance to see
this car. He goes outside, and sure enough, half a minute later, a green
Cutlass pulls up.”
“You’re sure it was the same car stopped next to your field?”
“Sure am. Jeff saw it, sail pole and all, right under the streetlight.”
“Any chance you know what year?”
“Well now, it’s funny you should ask. Jeff’s always been a gear head.
Said this Cutlass was an eighty-five.”
“He knew the year exactly?”
“I wouldn’t bet against him.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 290

“What about the driver? Was there enough light to tell anything about
him.”
“Yep. Jeff said the driver was a tall, young feller, clean cut and calm,
looked perfectly human far as he could tell. Now darn it, that’s how stupid
rumors get started. Never said I thought it was an alien. More like a foreigner
sneaking in, or maybe just a thief. So in case there’d been any funny business,
I asked Jeff to read off his tag to me. Used a ten dollar bill to write it down.
Still haven’t spent it, neither. I’ve been holding onto it, in case something
turns up missing.”
“Has anything?”
“Nope. Guess it’s not a crime what that tall feller did, just strange. So
what do you think that sail thing was, anyhow?”
“It was a hang glider, Mr. Toomey.”
“You mean them things you strap onto your back and fly around.”
“That’s right. Has anyone else seen something like that lately? I mean in
the last two days.”
“Nope. Then again, after the razzing I took, don’t suppose no one would
say nothing even if they saw it. No one wants to look the fool.”
“You weren’t foolish, Mr. Toomey,” said Genna. “You may have just put
us on the trail of a very dangerous man.”
“Really? Jeff said he turned right on Seven, if that’s any help.”
“It might be. And what was that license number?”
Toomey dug the ten dollar bill out of his wallet, then read it off. The
plate was from Vermont, number 47942. Toomey said it was the conservation
type, the standard green with a mountain chain’s white silhouette across the
top, plus a peregrine falcon on the left.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 291

32

They drove back to Swanton, stopped at the intersection. If Adam had

turned right onto Route 7, he didn’t go the shortest way to Route 89, the major
highway leading south. Zack thought it meant that Adam had gone somewhere
to store his hang glider.
That’s what he’d do himself, to eliminate the one factor that made him
noticeable. At this point ten days ago, there wasn’t yet a manhunt for him.
Genna still was in Kazakhstan, undiscovered, and Adam’s father was alive,
readying to launch his series of attacks. Adam’s trip must have been
preparatory. He hadn’t gone to Karachi yet; he didn’t have the Pu-239.
“Looks like Adam was doing a test run with the hang glider,” Zack said to
Genna. “To see if this would work once he had the plutonium.”
“That’s why he needed heroin!” said Genna. “I knew he wasn’t a drug
dealer.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is just like Adam. The test wouldn’t be any good if there wasn’t a
high element of risk.”
“Then he’s an adrenalin junkie?”
“Well yeah, there’s that. I’ve never known anyone so fearless. But what I
meant was, the night landing wouldn’t be enough to make this test realistic.
There’d have to be the danger of a major prison sentence if discovered. The
heroin wasn’t for profit – it was to force himself to get this right.”
“Makes sense. We’re dealing with a guy who’s both extremely careful and
willing to take extraordinary risks.”
“So what now?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 292

“We find where he’s stored the gliders. He’d do it right away. There can’t
be many places around Swanton.”
They asked at a gas station. Sure enough, there was a self-storage
facility to the west of town, just off Route 7. Zack drove there, then showed
Adam’s picture to the clerk. The guy didn’t recognize it or the name Adam
Lindsey, but then Zack realized this picture was the retouched one showing
Adam heavily bruised and with his head shaved. From his laptop, he brought
up the original one of Adam with the fencing trophy. This time, the clerk knew
who it was.
“Sure, I rented him a unit about six months ago. I remember, since he
had the same last name as my girlfriend. But I haven’t seen him since. What’s
this about?”
“Official business.” Zack showed his i.d. He hoped he wouldn’t need to
waste time getting a subpoena. “What name did he give you?”
“Walters. Can’t recall the first. But he showed a license, like we require.
Gave a contact number. Everything was just like it’s supposed to. I can dig
out the paperwork if you want.”
The clerk found it within a minute. There was a Xeroxed Vermont
driver’s license showing Adam’s picture with the name Shane Walters. It
wasn’t a name they’d come across before, but it made sense for Adam to keep
one clean. The license looked real, but Padgett’s section would have to check.
The address was in Burlington and the phone number had a Vermont area
code. The form showed that Adam had paid one year in advance for unit 318.
“Would you show me where that is?” Zack asked.
“Sure thing. Is this guy in trouble? Looked pretty normal to me.”
“He’s suspected of smuggling heroin,” Zack said. It was as good a cover
story as any. “He’s been seen around Swanton recently, so it would help a lot
if I can have a look inside his locker now.”
“Uh, I’m supposed to see a court order.”
“I know that, but we’re in hot pursuit. I can make this be a request from
the President, if that makes a difference.”
“The President of the United States?”
“Right. He told my boss to call if we had any trouble.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 293

“For a drug dealer?”

“This Shane Walters guy is more than that. He’s the biggest importer of
heroin we’ve ever identified. It’s a major priority of the President’s. Shall I get
him on the phone?”
“Uh, that’s okay. I’ll open three-eighteen right now.”
Inside, they found two ultra light hang gliders and little else. Both
gliders were black, with heavily dented frames, as if Adam had experienced
hard landings. Zack excused himself, stepped outside, and got on his phone to
Langley. He told Padgett that he’d found Adam Lindsey’s means of entry into
the U.S. He read off the Cutlass’s license plate that Bert Toomey had given him
and the Vermont driver’s license in the name of Shane Walters.
After hearing Zack’s heroin theory, Padgett told him to get a drug dog in
there to confirm it. Zack borrowed a dog and handler from the border patrol,
thinking that if nothing else, it would support his cover story. This way, upper
Vermont wouldn’t get into a panic about a terrorist search.
Once inside the storage unit, the dog reacted strongly. It alerted to
traces of heroin in several spots. Adam must have made a transfer while
inside, spilling a small amount of powder. When no one was looking, Zack also
checked for radiation with the small device he’d brought to Montreal. There
wasn’t any – but then, he hadn’t expected that there would be. Likely, Adam
was transporting the Pu-239 within the same lead tube he’d previously welded
into his wheelchair.
Zack called back Padgett with the news.
“Good,” said Padgett. “We’ll cross-match against all major drug arrests.
Maybe al-Shahab’s other couriers handled heroin, too.”
“We should take another look at the security tapes from Pierre Trudeau,”
Zack said. “Starting two weeks back. That’s when Roslyn Lindsey says her
son left Kazakhstan.”
“Already done. An agent from our Montreal station identified Adam
Lindsey’s arrival on a tape from ten days ago. He traveled on a flight from
Oslo, connecting via Moscow. It’s unclear what route he took from Kazakhstan
to Moscow.”
“What about the Vermont conservation plate I gave you?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 294

“We’ve put out high priority alerts for the plate, the name Shane Walters,
and the green mid-eighties Cutlass, in case Lindsey switched plates.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he would. This guy covers all the angles. That’s why he
did a practice run. So if he duplicated his previous method exactly, he used
the second hang glider to cross into Vermont within hours of arrival. Which
means he has a day’s head start this time.”
“Sure looks that way. We’ll have to hope he’s slipped up somehow.”
“He won’t. Adam’s not your usual terrorist. He’s highly educated and
extremely smart.”
“I know. I’ve read his dossier. Master’s in five years from Duke and an
I.Q. in the genius range. Not to mention a national fencing champion in saber.
But we’ve got thousands of people hunting for him. And all law enforcement
personnel nationwide have his latest description.”
“Just remember, we’ve got very little time. I’m certain that it wasn’t him
in Atlanta. His plutonium’s for somewhere else. Now that he’s here, he won’t
wait long to strike.”
“Yes, but where? I’d welcome any suggestions.”
“Someplace with major significance. He’s doing this for psychological
impact, not to maximize casualties. That’s why his father organized a
campaign of dirty bombs. So I’d concentrate security at government sites and
landmarks. The Statue of Liberty, The White House, The Liberty Bell, The
Supreme Court, maybe the Pentagon again.”
“Police and FBI details have been reinforced at all those places. Plus
about twenty more from the Terrorist Wish List we’ve developed.”
“I’ve heard about that. It’s from intercepted documents and
communications, right?”
“Yes, but this stays confidential. The White House is number one, since
al-Qaeda missed it on nine eleven. The Pentagon is two, since they did much
less damage to it than they’d hoped. Now that they’ve hit the New York Stock
Exchange, Langley’s moved up to number three. Oddly enough, the CDC didn’t
make our top one hundred sites.”
“I don’t know what the FBI and the others are doing, but I’d still suggest
you send a team to Swanton. Adam’s probably nowhere near here any more,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 295

but we’ll need to canvass all farmers in the area. Maybe someone noticed signs
of his second landing. A five mile radius should do it. Injured as he is, it’s
hard to imagine Adam hiking in from farther away than that.”
“Sounds about right. I’ll also have them question everyone in Swanton,
too. Maybe someone noticed him en route to where he stashed his car. And
the customer list of the storage facility. Maybe someone noticed him putting
the furled hang glider in his locker.”
“Don’t forget to do the other side of the border, too. Look for a storage
facility near a cleared hill.”
“It would probably have a north facing slope,” Genna put in. “Assuming
that’s where the wind was coming from that night. I remember Adam saying
they always take off into the wind.”
“Right – we’ll check that out,” said Padgett, once Zack relayed Genna’s
comment.
“What do you want me to do now?” Zack asked.
“Come back to Langley and view those airport security tapes. We’ve had
them transmitted from Montreal. Adam Lindsey hasn’t showed up anywhere
else on film. Maybe Genna will notice something.”
“Was he in a wheelchair ten days ago?” asked Zack. “It would make
sense, since Genna says he had broken ribs from the attack in Sudan.”
“No – I didn’t see the tapes myself, but Norwood says our suspect walked
off the Oslo flight carrying one small suitcase. Now that I think of it, he did
mention a limp.”
“That’s strange – I would have bet anything Adam used a wheelchair to
smuggle the heroin. This changes everything. It means he’s deviated from his
first protocol. We can’t assume he used a hang glider to get in this time. I
hope you haven’t called off the search for small marine craft.”
“No, we’re covering all bases. But I think you’ve nailed it with this hang
glider thing. After all, you found two of them, both banged up. I’d guess he
only changed to the wheelchair because whatever method he used for the
heroin wouldn’t work with radioactive material. Or it could just be he had no
choice. He was in pretty bad shape after the ISI got through with him, right?”
“Yeah, from what I saw in Karachi, I’d say he’s in no condition to use a
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 296

hang glider. The second one could be a false trail to throw us off.”
“Still, it’s the best lead we have. I’ll get a team up there ASAP. And
another one to work the Canadian side. You return with your daughter. I’ll
have Norwood set up the tapes for you.”

Zack and Genna returned to Langley, viewed the tapes, learned nothing
of value. Genna was feeling ill by the time they finished, so she drove back to
Zack’s apartment.
“Doing any better?” Zack asked when he arrived later that afternoon.
“A little. Just feeling tired, and kinda nauseous.”
“Is it-”
“Morning sickness? No, I’m pretty much over that. Anyway, mine used
to come around dinner time.”
“Funny, your mother said the same thing when she was carrying you.”
“No kidding? I guess the law of averages had to catch up some time. So
we have at least one thing in common.”
“I wouldn’t say that. You’re both beautiful, brilliant, and very warm. I’m
sure your baby will be, too.”
“Thanks, Dad. You always know how to cheer me up… I have been
thinking a lot about genetics. You know, since now I have to question what
kind of person Adam really is.”
“He’s the same man you fell in love with. You wouldn’t connect with
someone who wasn’t a caring person.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, myself, but what about Richard? He
seemed like a great guy, too, but he turned out to be a lying scumbag. And I
never told you this, but there were some major dating disasters before him.
Maybe I attract these jerks. Or worse, there’s something in me that seeks them
out.”
“That’s nonsense and you know it. Almost everyone goes through
setbacks. You’ll find the real thing, if there’s any fairness in the universe.
You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 297

“Sure, Dad.” Genna smiled tiredly. “But thanks for saying so.”
“It might not be an entirely impartial opinion, but it’s true. You’ve
always made me feel so blessed to be in your life.”
“Me, too. I’m really proud that you’re my father.”
“Wow. We should write dialogue for awful movies.” Zack turned away to
hide the moisture in his eyes. He pretended to sneeze, so he’d have an excuse
to bring out a handkerchief. When he turned back, he was able to smile
lovingly at Genna without breaking into tears. “But thank you, sweetie.
Coming from you, that means so much to me. And there’s one more thing I
want to say. In his own way, Adam must be a fine person, or you wouldn’t
have loved him.”
“But Dad, he’s trying to launch a terrorist attack.”
“I know it’s an odd thing to believe about someone who could do that,
but everything we learned about Adam’s boyhood confirms my opinion. I get
the sense he’s only doing this out of a deep loyalty to his father.”
“That’s what I think, too. I know that Adam’s a very moral person. He’s
also one of the bravest and most intelligent guys I’ve ever met. So I think the
baby couldn’t ask for better genes… It’s just so sad I can’t let Adam have
anything to do with our child. If Adam isn’t killed or locked up for life, I mean.”
“Don’t worry, you still have me. Once your baby’s born, I’ll do my best to
be a good role model. And your mother, too. For all your differences, I know
she’ll be a great grandmother.”
“I know.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Not yet. But soon. I’m waiting for the right moment. I’ll tell her before I
start to show, I promise. It’s only fair. Especially since the baby’s other
grandmother was the first person I told.”
“So you’re planning to keep Roslyn Lindsey in your life?”
“Of course. I like her very much.”
“She may face charges, you realize.”
“I know. But even if she goes to jail, we still can visit. She’s a good
woman, Dad. Besides, we have such a small family. It’ll be good to have
another close relation.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 298

“Speaking of which… there’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell

you.”
“What?”
Zack had changed his mind from what he’d told Julianna. For her own
sake, and the baby’s, Genna had a right to know her biological father’s real
identity. Still, he really should have confirmed this by looking at the DNA
report. This was so hard. Zack couldn’t stand the thought of Genna viewing
him any differently.
Oh, she’d still love him, of course. But it was only natural to resent
being kept from the truth all your life. Sure, he’d only found out a week ago,
himself, but Julianna was right. Deep down, Zack knew he’d always suspected
this.
“Well, like you said, about genetics,” Zack spoke at last. “It’s important
to know if there are any problems on either side.”
“Do you mean about my Granddad Zachariah?” Genna’s green eyes filled
with tenderness. Not for the grandfather she’d never known, but for Dad’s all
too readable need to always do the proper thing. “Is that what this is all
about?”
“What about him?” His death was long before Genna’s birth. She’d only
seen photographs of him. “He was a very healthy man. He died in a shooting
accident, you know.”
“No he didn’t. I’m a grown-up. It’s all right to say he killed himself.”
“How do you know that?”
“Mom told me. One day when she was working on the family album, she
just up and gave me the whole story. She said your own grandfather killed
himself, too. Took strychnine or something.”
“For Christ sake! I told her those things in confidence. Before I
proposed. It was to give your mom the option of breaking things off with me…
in case she was worried there was a family history of mental illness. She
wasn’t supposed to tell anybody else. Damn it all, I’ll bet she has.”
“Don’t worry so much, Dad. Mom didn’t say it like she thought it was
any big deal. And it isn’t to me, either. It’s just good to know. So I can know it
might be hereditary, in case I ever go into a funk. Or my child.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 299

“God forbid! But now that you’ve brought it up, I’ve often wondered if I
have it, too.”
“Why, do you ever get depressed? You’d never know it -- you’re always
such a rock.”
“Anything but, to tell the truth. Sometimes I get so down, I just can’t
shake it. Like after the American School bombing.”
“Naturally you did. The media said terrible things about you. And it
must have felt like such a betrayal when the administration forced you out.
Anyone would feel just sick about it.”
“No, it was a lot more than that. And there’ve been other times… Like
when your mother left me.”
“Yeah, I know how much you loved her. But it’s okay. I seriously don’t
think you have the same thing that your father and grandfather had. You’re
strong, you’re kind, and you’re almost always upbeat. I just hope my baby gets
those qualities from you.”
“Um, yeah, about that, Genna. That’s what I started to say… Look,
has your mom ever said anything to you about her boyfriend?”
“You mean Uncle Brad? Sure, I’ve known about that almost from the day
you and Mom separated.”
“And did you know it was going on before?”
“Well, uh… kinda. But Dad, I couldn’t be sure. I just didn’t think it
was my place to tell you.”
“No, of course not. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what is this about?”
“I’m getting to that, but it’s hard.” Zack wanted to put his arms around
Genna and hold her tight. But ever since she’d developed at thirteen, he’d felt
awkward about hugs. Instead, he just took her hands, squeezed them for a
second, then gently let them go. “Do you know how I first learned you had
trouble in Sudan?”
“No. I assumed that you became concerned when I went out of contact.”
“There’s that, but I got worried enough to go search for you in Myanmar
after speaking to your mom. She let it slip that Brad Yates has kept a
communications screen on your voice print for years.” Zack related all the
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 300

details. “A week ago, I confronted him about this.”

“What did he say?”
“He told me why, but--”
“I know I’ve always been like a niece to him, but this is really weird.
Does he have some kind of, you know, sick attraction?”
“God, no! He may be many things, but Brad’s not a pervert. Christ, I’m
screwing this up. I knew it would be very hard, but not like this…”
“Just tell me.”
“I hate to say it, sweetie, but I can’t seem to spit this out. You think of
me as a guy who isn’t scared of anything, but nothing could be farther from the
truth. I’m terrified of this. What it might do to how you think of me.”
“I love you, Dad. Nothing could ever change that.”
“I know, and I love you, too. But for this, I really don’t have the right to
make such a decision on my own. I think you’d better call your mom.”
“And say what?”
“Tell her I’ve changed my mind. You’re an adult, so I think you have a
right to know. Say your obstetrician needs the baby’s whole genetic profile.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 301

34

Adam reached Baltimore that afternoon. He had a locker south of the

city, but didn’t head for it immediately. Realizing that the hunt would be
intense by now, Adam knew he needed to change vehicles first. He’d already
changed appearance. The foam padding he wore beneath his clothes made him
look much heavier. His eyes were brown, because he’d put in colored contact
lenses. His hair was black and curly, thanks to a wig. His complexion was
much darker, from a tanning solution he’d rubbed onto his face, neck, hands,
and forearms. His clothes were frayed and faded to match the car he drove.
He was down to his last identity. He had a Maryland driver’s license in
the name of Steven Harper. He’d rented the locker looking just like this, except
his tan was natural that time. Last trip, he’d stored the explosives. His device
was all set to go, waiting only for the lead tube. It would be a short drive to the
target, and Eid al Adha began at sunset.
But he could wait for morning. It would be the Eid, as well, and this
way, the date would be March 11. Press coverage wouldn’t fail to note the
significance. All the national papers and news broadcasts had been full of the
attack in Atlanta. Plus the aborted attack in L.A. Adam felt miserable about
the casualties, especially the people who’d lingered with radiation sickness
before their gruesome deaths… but he tried to keep Dad’s favorite quote in
mind:
“One death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.”
That’s what Josef Stalin claimed, and Dad agreed. He’d always said their
work would involve heart-wrenching realities. People would have to die before
the world could be repaired.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 302

“You must think of them as soldiers in a battle, Adam. They give up

their lives for the greater good.”
“But why do innocent people have to die?” he’d asked that first time
when they’d talked about it.
“America has grown so powerful, it threatens everybody else,” Dad
answered. Over the years, he’d repeated these words many times. “When
Russia lost it’s might, America lost the only rival that could hold its arrogance
in check. Now it does whatever it likes, it starts wars anywhere the President
decides, always assuming that it’s in the right, never imagining it doesn’t hold
the moral high ground.”
“We don’t? I always thought we lived in the best country in the world.”
“Just imagine another country captured American soldiers, accused
them of an illegal invasion, wanton destruction, and murder of innocents. How
would Americans like it if their POWs were tortured, tried, and executed as war
criminals? They’d be outraged, of course. And yet that’s exactly what
Americans have done repeatedly to people who honestly believed they were
defending their homelands and their values.”
“But you’re talking about terrorists.”
“That’s only what their enemies call patriots. Like I’m sure the English
called George Washington, or the Spanish called Simon Bolivar. And if they’d
crushed these revolutions, that’s what the school books would call these men
today instead of heroes.”
“You mean because history is written by the victors.”
“Exactly. For now, the U.S. calls the shots around the world. It’s leaders
know that they can get away with it. They don’t have to consider another
superpower’s reaction -- there aren’t any. That’s why we have to strike, no
matter how repugnant killing is. We have to make the Washington regime
learn once more to fear the world’s reaction. And yes, of course it won’t work
quickly. Our assault will provoke an even greater backlash. But then others
will rise up to strike America. Eventually, they’ll take such a heavy toll, public
abhorrence of warmongering will force a change of course.”
Adam had his doubts that this would ever happen, but Dad was right.
Someone had to try. He mustn’t think about the deaths he’d cause. If he
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 303

could make a future president think twice about another invasion, then he’d
save thousands of lives. He wished that everything were different, that America
really was the noble country of its past, that his father had been an ordinary
baseball-tossing dad, that a genie could make his training and his oath
unnecessary, so he could have a happy life with Genna, that he could see his
mom again, maybe make her a grandmother some day… but it was no good.
He’d sworn to Dad he’d do this. He knew for certain now that Dad was dead.
Everything was up to him. More than the horror of turning innocent people
into sacrifices, Adam loathed the thought of breaking his pledge.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 304

35

That evening, a JTTF team located Adam’s storage unit outside

Phillipsburg, Quebec. After recognizing Adam’s college picture, a clerk had dug
up paperwork showing the same i.d., address, and phone number that Adam
used in Swanton. Nothing was left inside the locker, except two suitcases filled
with clothing, travel sized toiletries, and a U.S. highway map. There was no
route marked on the map, of course. No radiation was detected inside the
locker. No heroin residue, either.
The team found no one else in Phillipsburg who remembered seeing him.
The other team working Swanton had no luck identifying anyone who’d
observed what may have been a hang glider’s landing on the last three nights.
Or someone limping toward town, or driving with a mast-like pole atop their
car.
But suddenly, both JTTF teams packed up and left. So did the CIA. No
one bothered to tell Zack why. He only heard about it because he called Bert
Toomey, checking if the farmer remembered additional details of Adam’s first
landing.
“No,” Bert said, “but I’ve been hearing talk this guy’s a heroin kingpin.
Sure strikes me funny. I’ve got to ask, why go to all that trouble? There must
be easier ways to bring it in. Plus, he’d pay people to do it for him. Mules,
they’re called, I think. Seems like you folks are handing us a load of crap.
Don’t tell me that thing my dog was barking at was really an alien space boat,
after all?”
“Just a hang glider, Mr. Toomey. I promise you we didn’t lie about that.”
Other things, sure, but it was safe to say this was no alien cover-up.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 305

“And what’s this about Chicago? Jeff Wakefield overheard some agents
on their cell phones when they got the order to move out.”
“I don’t know. It’s news to me. I guess it means that’s where the suspect
has been spotted.”
Zack called Ron Padgett, but could only get voice mail. He reached Hal
Clark’s assistant Dean Osterveldt, who confirmed the lead that pointed to
Chicago. The FBI forensic lab had detected a faint imprint on the map found in
Adam’s Phillipsburg locker. These marks yielded an address in Elkhart,
Indiana. Adam must have written it on a scrap of paper while using the map
as backing. The address turned out to be an exposition hall. The last event
held inside it had been a gun show.
The conclusion was that Adam’s destination was Chicago. He hadn’t
risked bringing a weapon into Canada, or even buying one in Montreal before
his glide across the border. But it was easy to get firearms at an Indiana gun
show without a waiting period or much of a background check. And Elkhart
was only eighty miles east of Chicago.
It fit well with the traffic they’d intercepted from surveillance on known
operatives of al-Shahab. This group was unquestionably responsible for the
Wall Street bombing and likely for Atlanta, too. Something was definitely
planned for Chicago soon. Interrogation of the four al-Shahab terrorists
arrested in Seattle supported this conclusion. The Pu-239 they’d gotten from
Gul Khan was destined for L.A., but independently, two of the terrorists
admitted they’d heard that more plutonium was en route to their brothers in
Chicago.
It now seemed clear that Adam was the courier. The timing indicated
they might attack during the Republican primary debate at the University of
Chicago in two days. This being March, there were no outdoor events
scheduled that would draw large crowds, like a baseball game at Wrigley or the
Bears at Soldier Field, but there was a meeting of virologists at the convention
center. A security team was sent there, too.
Agents from the FBI, Secret Service, AFT, and Homeland Security were
scouring Chicago to locate the al-Shahab cell. Meanwhile, teams were
circulating Adam’s most recent picture at all storage facilities around the city.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 306

Because it had initiated the hunt for Adam Lindsey, President Yates granted an
exemption for the CIA to participate domestically. They’d already been doing
this, of course, but the waiver was necessary for the public record.
In addition to searching for Adam’s Cutlass, local police were on the alert
for a young male Caucasian, tall, bruised, and with a recently shaved head. If
seen on foot, his gait would be affected by recent injuries. They were also
interviewing witnesses of all recent car thefts, in case anyone had seen a man
of this description. This was because Adam may have taken the precaution of
hiding his Cutlass after he’d reached Chicago. If so, rather than risk renting or
purchasing another car, he could have simply stolen one.
“I don’t buy it,” Zack said when Padgett called him back.
“What, about the Cutlass? That didn’t make sense to me, either. Not if
your information from that farmer was correct. If Lindsey had the Cutlass ten
days ago, what’d he do, drive it to Chicago, meet with others in his cell, then
drive back to Vermont and stash it for his second flight? It would make more
sense to leave two cars originally. I told Clark they’re searching for the wrong
vehicle. He said he’d pass along my opinion, but they still have to look for the
Cutlass, since it’s all we have.”
“Actually, that isn’t what I meant. But I agree about the Cutlass –
Lindsey wouldn’t bring it back to Swanton. It’s an unnecessary step. The part
I really don’t buy is the Elkhart address. He’s much too smart to make that
kind of mistake. It’s got to be misdirection.”
“You’re suggesting he intentionally left that tracing on the map to throw
us off?”
“Exactly. Adam’s careful about details. He knew that if his locker was
discovered, the FBI would pore over everything inside it. So if the address
points west, then his real target must be in the east.”
“No way. It’s in Chicago. That part, we’ve got right.”
“I don’t think so. I know this kid. This feint is just like him.”
“Wait a minute – you know him? Your report never said so.”
“I don’t mean literally. But between chasing Adam for a week, and
everything my daughter’s said about him, I’ve got a real strong sense of how he
thinks. And he wouldn’t make this kind of error.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 307

“Bullshit!” erupted Padgett. Until this moment, his Midwestern twang

revealed none of his antipathy toward Zack. “You thought you knew what was
going on with Lubov, too. You tied up the Islamabad station all night long with
that brilliant piece of guesswork. If it wasn’t for those wasted hours, maybe we
could’ve stopped the American School attack. Maybe my son would still--
Shit, never mind. I’m not going to say what I think of you. But I expect you to
act like a professional. Don’t tell me you’re inside this kid’s head. I don’t want
to hear that you know better than our experts. Just take your daughter to
Chicago. Get me something that will lead to Lindsey before another bomb goes
off.”
“All right,” said Zack. “If that’s what you and Hal Clark want. But damn
it, make sure he knows I think Adam’s target will be in the east. Even if I’m
wrong about the map, Chicago feels completely off. There’s nothing to link
Adam or his father with al-Shahab.”
“Are you still on about the Russians? We know it’s al-Shahab. We have
the Pu-239 taken from the captured terrorists, we have their interrogations.
Plus we have intercepted communications. And chatter on jihadist message
boards.”
“I’m not arguing any of that. Chicago might be al-Shahab’s target, but
that doesn’t make Adam the courier. My gut tells me he’s running an
independent operation. I’m certain that his father planned for something
psychologically devastating. Chicago isn’t big enough. Neither are some
primary candidates who have no chance. The President won’t even be there.”
“Then maybe it’s the virologists’ meeting at the convention center.
Maybe al-Shahab wants to cripple American response to biological warfare in
advance of a strike. That would explain Atlanta.”
“But they didn’t manage to kill a single scientist inside the CDC,” said
Zack.
“Doesn’t matter. The place will be shut down for weeks. Now if you want
to help, get the fuck out to Chicago.”
“Okay, but I want this on the record. Tell Clark, or I’ll tell him myself.
Better yet, I’ll go straight to Paolucci.”
“Don’t you goddamn bother the DCI!”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 308

“He has to know. I’m convinced it’ll be a national landmark. If I’m right
about the east, I’d guess that Adam Lindsey’s heading for D.C. Something here
would make the greatest impact, and that’s exactly what he wants. In fact,
since Adam’s had two full days after reaching Montreal this time, you’d better
assume he’s here already.”
“Oh, for Christ sake! You really think you’re the only one in all U.S.
intelligence who can think straight.”
“Are you going to call Clark or should I?”
“Be my guest. Make an asshole of yourself. It’ll only prove what
everybody thinks about you.”
Zack squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to take Padgett’s insult
personally. The man couldn’t help being consumed with hatred. He’d lost a
son, and needed a target for his rage. Zack knew he’d feel the same way if
something had happened to Genna. He took a deep breath before responding.
“Look, I never had a chance to say this to you, Ron, but you and Marcia
have my deepest sympathies. If I could have traded places with Chase in that
school, I would have done it in an instant.”
“I hope you rot in hell. “
“I’m sorry that you feel that way. If it’s any consolation, I probably will.
Sometimes it feels like I am, already… So you’re not doing anything about
Washington?”
“Of course we are. With Adam Lindsey and these al-Shahab fuckheads
loose, we’re at our highest security level. You may think we’re morons next to
you, but we’re not complete beginners. Neither are the people at the FBI or
Homeland Security or the Secret Service. They didn’t abandon every post in
Washington, you know. Now, I’ve got to go. You’ve wasted enough of my time.
If you really want to help, try following your goddamned orders.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 309

35

Zack collected Genna and headed back to Langley. He felt determined to

speak with Hal Clark before going to Chicago.
“Dad…” said Genna, once they were across the bridge. “I called Mom
about an hour ago. After I took my nap, I felt much better.”
“You told her about the baby?”
“Yes. She was surprised, but sounded happy.”
“Good. I’m glad. It must be a big relief to you.”
“It is. Except for the part about Adam. We didn’t really get into that… I
asked her about the other thing, too.”
“What did she say?” Zack switched off the stereo in Genna’s car. It was
low already, but somehow background music didn’t seem right for this
conversation.
“Nothing for about a minute. I thought we’d lost the connection. But
then I heard Mom breathing. My question must have really floored her. She
sounded shocked to hear you’d changed your mind.”
“So she told you about the DNA test?”
“Right. It really floored me, too.”
“You never had a clue?”
“Of course not. Why would anybody ever think something like that about
their parents?”
“You sound angry. Is it because I kept this from you?”
“No, nothing like that… Well, yeah. But it was both you and Mom.
And I get the feeling you didn’t even know until I vanished. You said you only
learned about Uncle Brad’s communications screen last week. So it was really
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 310

Mom keeping it from me.”

“I’m equally to blame. My first instinct was to keep it from you, too.
Guess I just wanted to continue being the same Dad you’ve always known.”
“You are.”
“But you must have wondered at some point. You’ve got to admit, we
look nothing alike.”
“No, but everybody always said we act the same.”
“That’s just because we’re close. And you do have his eyes, now that I
force myself to see it. I guess I never wanted to before. Hate to admit it, but
I’ve always buried my resentment of Brad Yates, and now it all comes boiling
out.”
“It’s ridiculous to feel that way. You have nothing to be jealous of.
You’re still my Dad.”
“I know. But what about Brad Yates? I guess you’ll want him in your
baby’s life.”
“Don’t be stupid. This doesn’t change a thing. If anything, I think it
would be real weird seeing him again. It would make me feel uncomfortable.”
“He might insist. You realize that your mom will tell him that you know.”
“Yeah, I guess… Hey, I just thought of something. Has Uncle Brad told
anybody else? Is it possible that Adam learned about this? Maybe that’s why
he came to my camp in Ethiopia. Maybe it was all a set-up when he saved me
from that crowd of starving refugees. So I’d fall in love with him, then he could
get me to come with him into Sudan.”
“And what? Follow him to Myanmar? That’s the last thing he wanted.
Brad never told a soul about the paternity test, I’m certain. Adam meeting you
was just by chance. Call it lucky or unlucky, whichever you prefer. But you
don’t have to doubt that what you felt about each other was real.”
“God, I’m glad to hear you say that. Whatever else Adam might be, I’d
hate to think the father of my child never cared for me at all.”
“No, I’m sure he loved you, sweetie… Now, what about Brad Yates?
I’m sure he cares about you, too.”
“Look, this is hard enough. Don’t ask me to include him.”
“But I thought you adored him. He always was your favorite uncle.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 311

“I think that he’s a creep, if you want to know the truth.”

“Thank God!” Zack felt such a weight come off his chest, he thought he’d
float out of his seat. He actually caught himself tightening his seat belt. “You
don’t know what a relief it is to hear you say that. I think he’s a grade A
asshole, too.”
“Wow, Dad. I’ve never heard you curse before… So do you think that I
should vote for him this time?” She grinned, making sure that Zack would see
it was a joke. “Now that we’re officially related, I mean, it would be pretty
crummy to vote for the other guy.”
“You mean you were planning to?”
“Of course. That’s what I did last time. Never mind his character. I’ve
never liked Uncle Brad’s politics one bit.”
They laughed together, so loud they drew a long glance from the driver
pulled up alongside them at a light. When they finally stopped sputtering,
Zack used his sleeve to wipe his eyes. Genna did the same.

When Zack arrived with Genna, the Operations floor was a frenzy of
activity. So Padgett had been right – plenty of people had stayed in
Washington. But that didn’t mean that they were searching here. They were
simply running the Chicago manhunt from Langley.
In addition to the FBI, Homeland Security, Secret Service, ATF, and CIA
personnel already present, hundreds of city policemen and state troopers had
joined the search throughout Chicago’s metropolitan area. Illinois’ governor
had called out the National Guard to man checkpoints. An emergency plan
had been activated to safeguard a long list of potential targets, including the
University of Chicago and the convention center. The big Cutlass could hold
almost as much explosives as a van. President Yates had prevailed on
Chicago’s mayor not to announce this publicly, but everybody assumed that al-
Shahab’s goal was to detonate another dirty bomb, like the one outside the
CDC.
Zack still couldn’t get through to Hal Clark. The Deputy DCI’s secretary
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 312

said he’d be tied up all day with emergency meetings. It felt more urgent than
ever to speak with Clark, because Zack thought he knew Adam’s real target.
And it was in D.C., not Chicago.
He tried to get into Clark’s executive suite, but Osterveldt wouldn’t let
him through. A meeting of department heads was going on in the conference
room. Zack barged his way in, but Clark wasn’t there. Someone said he was
huddled with Paolucci.
Except for Padgett, Zack didn’t know the others personally. If they knew
him, it was only by negative reputation for the disaster in Islamabad. No one
wanted to hear Zack’s thoughts. Two burly agents from Security hustled him
out. He was lucky not to be arrested.
“We have to try something,” he said to Genna, once the security guys
returned to their station outside the conference room. “They’re so focused on
Chicago, I’ll bet no one’s checked lockers around D.C.”
Zack enlisted the young agent Norwood who’d helped him before.
Actually, it didn’t take technical genius to make a list of storage facilities in the
Washington area. They simply used the phone book. Between Zack, Genna,
and Norwood, they contacted every one of these within the next half hour.
Most of the clerks knew who they meant, because Adam’s description was all
over the news. Unfortunately, they didn’t find a clerk who’d seen him.
Norwood suggested they move on to outlying directories. It was Genna
who found the one in Laurel, Maryland where Adam had a locker. This clerk
hadn’t seen Adam, himself, but an hour ago, he’d noticed the green ‘85 Cutlass
leave his parking lot!
Laurel – it made sense. Halfway between Baltimore and Washington, it
wasn’t so close that Adam could have feared it might be found. It was
convenient to the Baltimore beltway, so he would have had an easy run to
Philadelphia and his flight to Rome after his first trip.
Zack didn’t waste time trying to break into Padgett’s meeting again, but
he told Norwood to try. Though his injuries made a sprint impossible, Zack
hurried with Genna to the main exit on the Route 123 side. At least their haste
didn’t look suspicious. Everyone was hustling somewhere through the
corridors. Once they reached Genna’s car, they sped back toward D.C. Zack
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 313

didn’t think they’d be in time. Adam would move as fast as possible, now that
he was near his target.
“You know Adam better than anyone these days,” Zack said to Genna.
Before sharing where they’d have to go, he wanted to see if she’d reached the
same conclusion. “Where do you think he’ll strike?”
“I can only guess, but he’ll find the perfect spot. Adam’s incredibly
smart. I’m sure he’s planned out every detail. The site that gains his group
maximum publicity, the access, the escape route, even the timing.”
“What do you mean? A slow news cycle, so he’ll grab the headlines?
This will do that, anyway.”
“I was thinking of the date. Today is Eid al-Adha. In my part of
Ethiopia, the locals were mostly Moslem, and the festival’s a very big deal.
Before I left, the farmers were making preparations weeks in advance to host
their feast.”
“Good Lord, you’re right! He’ll definitely strike today. Not just because
it’s Eid al-Adha, but it’s also March eleventh. That’s half a year before nine-
eleven. And the anniversary of the Spanish train bombings, too. ”
“Call Mister Clark! You’ve got to warn him.”
“I’m on it,” Zack said as he pressed 3 on his speed dial. “But I’ve tried all
morning and he’s not taking my calls.”
Again, Zack couldn’t get through, so he sent a text message. He
wondered if Clark would even read it before Adam’s bomb went off. Despite
Clark’s previous assurances, Zack doubted he could count on support from
this quarter. Clark probably blamed him for getting Colquitt killed. The two
men had been very close.
“So where do you think he’ll strike?” asked Genna.
Zack didn’t answer immediately. A green Explorer stayed three cars
behind them as they turned from the Parkway onto the Roosevelt Bridge. It
was just like the ones that came from Langley’s motor pool. Zack feared that
the President had really carried through with his threat. Now he was being
followed. If he didn’t go along with the orders to focus on al-Shahab, he’d be
arrested, rendered voiceless. Maybe Genna, too.
He slowed down, slid into the right hand lane, watched his rear view
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 314

mirror. The green Explorer passed him, accelerated rapidly away. He saw it
was three young women inside, college aged, their heads moving to music so
loud he could hear the words. It didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t CIA, but
the license plate was Pennsylvania. Again, this meant little. If he were running
a Langley surveillance squad, he wouldn’t use Virginia plates. He watched to
see if another vehicle would move into the chase position. He couldn’t spot
anything obvious. It didn’t matter anyway. Whether or not he was being
followed, his destination was the same.
“I agree with you,” he said to Genna. “Adam’s target has to be
somewhere major.”
“But haven’t they closed off public access to all the monuments and
agencies and everything?”
“No. They’re convinced he’s in Chicago. But Adam will have expected
more of a response. When they planned this, Adam and his father had to
consider how to attack a guarded city. Which means it must be somewhere he
can get to, barriers or not.”
“You mean like underground? What about the tunnel system?”
“Damn – I should’ve thought of it! That’s got to be his route. There are
so many entrances, a task force can’t possibly guard them all.”
“But ever since Nine Eleven, the government’s made a major effort to seal
off everything underground. They guard the remaining entrances to sewers,
tunnels, and utility conduits. And when I was at State, I heard there’s been a
project to install motion detectors at sensitive passageways.”
“Doesn’t matter. With so many personnel pulled to Chicago, he’ll know
some way around what’s left. God, I hope Clark gets my message soon. We
need to send as many people as possible down there.”
Zack dodged past a Washington Post truck as he turned from the bridge
onto Constitution Avenue. At high speed, he wove through dozens of slower
vehicles, just missed an SUV as he made use of the oncoming lane, then
continued east toward Capitol Hill. Fortunately, there were no cops in sight.
No civilian vehicles had kept up with him, either.
“Do you think Adam will set this off underground, or does he need to get
upstairs?” asked Genna.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 315

“If it were me, I’d minimize the chance of discovery by staying

underground. The radiation will filter up into the building from the blast wave.
It doesn’t even have to be a large explosion. He could use a backpack to carry
enough material to disperse the plutonium.”
“So he won’t need a vehicle?”
“You bet – he’s somewhere in the tunnels now.”
“Wow, if there wasn’t such a disaster looming, this is enough to make
you laugh. In Chicago, they’re all hunting for this old green Cutlass, and he’s
probably on foot?”
“After Wall Street and Atlanta, everyone’s on alert for another truck or
car bomb. We’re always trying to prevent a repeat of the last emergency.
Padgett accused me of thinking they’re all morons, but come on, it sure seems
like it. Do they really imagine terrorists don’t have the sense to come up with
new plans?”
“Especially Adam. He’s amazingly resourceful. We’ve got to tell
someone. Try Uncle Brad if you can’t get through to Mr. Clark.”
“I can’t. He’s told them not to put me through.”
“Get Mom to do it. I’m sure he takes her calls.”
“He doesn’t. And there isn’t time. If Adam left Laurel an hour ago, he’s
here already. I’ll keep trying Clark, but meantime, we’ve got to choose the most
likely targets. Maybe we can stop him.”
“Like what? You mean Congress and the White House?”
“Exactly. Those jump out for me, too. Either way, Adam gets maximum
effect. For a terrorist like him, it’s much better than killing lots of people. It
announces to the world that they can strike at the heart of our government. A
dirty bomb would make those buildings unusable for months, maybe years.
The story stays fresh and recruits thousands into terrorist ranks.”
“But didn’t Mr. Padgett tell you Washington’s on security alert, even if
they’re focused on Chicago? Wouldn’t there still be agents posted in the most
sensitive locations, including the sublevels?”
“I sure as hell hope so. Like the escape subway they built under Capitol
Hill during the Cold War. There’s no running train anymore, but there’s still a
station deep beneath Congress with the escape tracks and other routes into it.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 316

“You’ve seen it? I thought that was a rumor.”

“No, it’s real. I pulled up the plan for terrorist situations in D.C. – it has
the Secret Service guarding that. But the problem is, Adam only has to identify
one vulnerable spot. There are hundreds of steam tunnels, utility lines, fiber
optic conduits, and old passageways. Some of them go back to the days before
the Civil War. Even the GSA doesn’t have a complete map. What you heard at
State is true -- after Nine Eleven, we’ve gone to great effort to restrict access --
but it’s impossible to cover every entry point.”
“Yeah, even I know how to get in. Back when I was with Richard, he
showed me a tunnel underneath the Air and Space Museum.”
“He did? I thought they closed its underground garage a long time ago. I
heard they intercepted a credible threat to collapse the building with a truck
bomb.”
“Richard had a pass to park there for a reception. Only VIPs were
allowed to go down the ramp. He was very proud of that. The tunnel that he
pointed out, he said it led up the Mall, under the Reflecting Pool and Capitol,
and then behind the Dirksen Building. He knew about another that led under
the Russian Embassy in Glover Park. Supposedly, the FBI could hear
everything they said from there. And there’s another secret one that leads
between the Oval Office and the family quarters of the White House.”
Coming up Constitution Avenue, they reached the Smithsonian complex.
Zack wheeled around two turns, squealed to a halt in front of the Air and
Space Museum’s garage.
“Get down to that tunnel,” he said to Genna. “If someone challenges you,
use the CIA credentials you were issued yesterday. Check out any unguarded
routes you see beneath Congress. Especially if you find a padlock cut or it
looks like a sealed door has been forced opened.”
He opened the glove compartment, then handed her a flashlight.
“And take this with you, too,” Zack said, holding out his SIG Sauer.
“Your gun? I don’t think I could--”
“You might need it. I know that you know how to shoot – you wrote me
how you learned in Africa. If it’s him or the baby, you’ll know what to do.”
“What about you?”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 317

“I’m heading for the White House.”

“I meant, you should be armed.”
“I already shot his father. It was sickening. I’ve had nightmares ever
since. I’m afraid I’d freeze if I needed to pull the trigger again. It’s better that I
go without the gun. Don’t worry, I’ll grab a metal rod or something. I’m used
to fighting that way.”
“Okay. I’ll call if I see anything.”
“Your phone won’t work below the street.”
“Oh, yeah. Guess I’ve been in Africa too long. I’ve forgotten about cities.”
“Don’t waste time coming above ground to call me. I’ll be out of
reception, too. Just do your best. No one can ask more than that.”
“Okay. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too.”
Zack shot off as soon as Genna closed the door. Ignoring traffic lights
where possible, he sped north to Dupont Circle. He knew a back door into the
tunnel system, too.
No chase cars stayed with him. I’m probably being paranoid about Brad
ordering surveillance, Zack had to concede.
He left Genna’s car in an illegal space, ran up the block of trendy shops
and restaurants, then made his way down to an abandoned shopping complex
below the street. It was very dark, but he’d brought a powerful flashlight,
knowing ahead of time he’d wind up underground.
Zack remembered when this complex was called Dupont Down Under.
He passed the hulks of shuttered enterprises – a bagel place, an Indian
restaurant, a travel agency, a women’s clothing shop, a nutritional
supplements store, a deli. There were even trays stacked neatly in front of this
last one. He wondered why no one had ever stolen them. They must have
some resale value. Except for dust, the top one looked brand new.
The place gave off a very eerie vibe. It felt as if this was some ordinary
corner of America ten years after nuclear war. Like a radioactive strike had
already wiped out all life. Zack swept his Dura-lite’s beam over trash, then up
the cobwebbed walls. He painted the yellowish light across graffiti, stopping on
one that looked like a shark with open jaws.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 318

It reminded him of a red-bellied piranha he’d once seen in the Commerce

building’s basement, of all places. But that fish had been alive, though
immured deep underground and far from home. Other than himself, Zack
hadn’t seen a single living thing down here. Even the usual rodents and
cockroaches infesting all of Washington’s sublevels seemed to have abandoned
it.
Zack passed crumpled boxes within a recessed doorway. Homeless
people must have dragged them here for bedding at one time. But the Hotel
Hotpoint’s residents were all gone, too. Or maybe it was simply that the
weather was turning into Spring outside. The rats and roaches had left their
winter quarters, while the human residents didn’t need to nest here in the
daytime.
Zack came to a locked door, but he was able to crash it open with a
powerful side kick. He felt a sharp protest from the wound in his flank, but no
wet leakage. Except for the small tear he’d caused in southern Russia, Khin
Taw’s repairs had held together beautifully. It gave him an encouraging burst
of warmth to think of her again as he pressed on.
The door was for a service tunnel leading to the old Connecticut Avenue
underpass. Here, two streetcar lines went underground. When Zack came to
the tracks, he followed the southbound one for about a quarter mile. It angled
somewhat downwards, so he estimated he was about two stories below the
surface of Dupont Circle at this point.
His flashlight’s beam picked out another passageway. This one wasn’t
locked. In fact, there was no door on its rusty hinges. The opening led into a
narrow steam tunnel.
Now the air was damp and warm. Zack removed his jacket and tied it
around his waist. He had to walk hunched over because the tunnel was only
six feet tall. He followed it past three junctions, then turned left at the fourth
one. He still remembered the sequence from a training exercise when he’d first
been recruited.
They’d flown him back to D.C. for the tradecraft course. He’d departed
Sheremetyevo using another man’s credentials. Then in and out of Andrews
with three intense days of surveillance, codes and signals, evasion, micro-
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 319

photography, and weapons in between. Supposedly, he’d been laid up with flu
in his room at the U.S. residence. He didn’t think the Soviets had ever learned
about it. The prerecorded call he’d “made” to Julianna from Moscow must have
convinced them he was sick in bed.
Still following the route he’d memorized a quarter century ago, Zack
turned right, passed two left branches, then took another right. He came out
in a broader tunnel beneath Lafayette Park. Now the air was comfortable
again. He untied his jacket from around his waist, then used one of the sleeves
to wipe his sweaty face.
Heading south again, he reached a small vault made of bricks. It was
very old, with the look and aura of a crypt. He knew that there were real crypts
in these tunnels -- there was one beneath the National Cathedral. But no
remains were buried here. There were no niches in the walls. This wasn’t
some ancient catacomb, Zack reassured himself, though it had the smell of
death.
Actually, it smelled just like a bog he used to play in as a boy. At once,
the name came back to him. They’d called it Dead Man’s Swamp. The big kids
said they’d found bones sticking from the deep pool at its center. They claimed
these were the bones of a highwayman from long ago, hanged there by the
British before the Revolutionary War. He didn’t know what a highwayman was,
and he didn’t believe the big kids, either. If they’d found bones, they would
have showed them to everyone in town. But he did believe the swamp was
haunted.
He’d gone into it one summer evening on a dare. He’d been determined
to shut up Rusty and that stupid Vee song. No one would ever call him a sissy
again. He’d made it to the center as dusk gave way to twilight. The faint calls
of mothers for kids to come inside barely reached this place.
He’d grabbed a handful of the duckweed growing in the pool to prove he’d
made it this far. That’s when he’d felt a chilling presence in the air. Something
heavy, something foul. He could almost see its ancient features in the mist.
But there was nothing almost about the fetid odor of its breath…
A high-pitched noise brought him back to the present. It sounded like a
sneaker’s squeak. He must have CIA shadows, after all. But then Zack’s
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 320

flashlight picked out a colony of bats. They were hanging from a recess in the
brickwork.
Not that he was scared of bats, but this place had the same feeling as
Dead Man’s Swamp. The ceiling made by some long buried mason dripped
with something slimy. The air he sucked into his lungs felt soaked with
pestilence. Zack remembered that this rounded vault was where the chase
team had almost trapped him last time. He hurried from the place, following a
conduit built much more recently for utility lines.
Now, Zack was under Pennsylvania Avenue. The downward slope leveled
off and then began to rise. After another minute, he began to hear street
noises. Some light filtered down through manhole covers, though it still was
very dim.
Zack reached the door he wanted. This one had been sealed by a gate of
steel bars. But two of the bars had been cut through. Zack picked one up –
its ends were smooth. They were pretty warm, too. It meant that they’d been
severed by an acetylene torch. Adam had known better than to use a hack
saw. The sound would have carried a long way through these tunnels.
Zack kept the bar, remembering to arm himself as he’d promised Genna.
It weighed about ten pounds. Heavier than the kendo staves he was used to,
but it fit nicely in his hand.
He pressed on as fast as possible. Judging from the heat left in the bar,
Adam’s torch had made the cut at least fifteen minutes ago. This passageway
led south, beneath Executive Avenue, the road that looped the White House.
He switched off his Dura-lite, so its beam wouldn’t warn Adam that he was
coming. He listened carefully for noises ahead, but heard only the occasional
drip and hum of wires.
He came to the junction that led beneath the Rose Garden. At the end of
that training exercise, he’d asked if it connected to the Situation Room. They’d
never given him an answer. If Zack had to guess, he’d say he was at about this
depth.
Stepping through, he tripped over a large object with a yielding texture.
He sprawled and almost yelled out in surprise, but managed to choke it off to a
slight grunt. He wanted to turn his Dura-lite back on, because there were no
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 321

manholes here to let through light.

Resisting the urge, Zack felt the mound instead. It’s texture was like
damp cloth, and then like meat. It had some warmth, a bit less than the iron
bar. He realized that he’d felt a man’s collar, then his neck. He moved up to
the face – yes, this was definitely a man. The cheeks were rough with bristle.
Late in the day, this guy could use a touch up with his shaver. But they were
sticky with drying blood, too. It was unlikely the poor bastard would ever need
to shave again.
Zack groped for the neck again, searching for a pulse, couldn’t find one.
If there wasn’t anything at the carotid artery, this guy was dead already.
Dreading what he’d find, he felt his way past the chin again. There – with his
fingertips wet, he could detect a small current of air coming from the mouth’s
slack hole.
He risked a quick beam of light, shielding it by kneeling with his back
turned in the direction of the White House. He saw a man wearing a suit, a
Secret Service pin on its collar. The agent was unconscious, but alive. A
stream of blood had traced a line from his temple down his cheek. Zack saw
no other wounds, no puncture of his chest, no slash across his throat.
And there’d certainly been no gunshot, or he would have heard it echo
through these tunnels. Adam had only bashed the agent, then left him to
recover.
It seemed odd behavior for a terrorist. Why spare an enemy, if your
intention is mass murder? But it fit with what he’d learned about Adam. This
young man was no soulless killer. So far, he hadn’t killed at all. He’d do what
he considered necessary, but avoid running up the death toll.
Except for one thing. In the Atlanta dirty bomb, FBI specialists
estimated the radioactive yield came from approximately five kilograms of Pu-
239. And the terrorists in Seattle had been caught with slightly less
plutonium. Maybe the al-Shahab cell in Chicago had another five.
If Adam’s device was similar to these, the radiation reaching this far from
ground zero wouldn’t have serious effects. But if Adam had the remainder of
the 90 kilograms from Gul Khan, this would be well within the lethal zone.
Zack dragged the agent for 200 yards back down the tunnel and then behind a
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 322

pile of discarded pipes. He left the poor guy breathing shallowly, then hurried
on.
Turning a bend of tunnel, he saw a glow ahead. Too much light for it to
be filtering from ground level. Zack knew that he approached an illuminated
area. He stopped and listened, still heard nothing but the persistent hum
down here, then crept to the passageway.
Zack crouched and let his eyes adjust to the stronger lighting. At his
feet, there were pieces from a motion detector that had been disabled. The
chamber that he faced seemed to be a station of the escape subway. A rail line
led off to the west. He wondered if it had ever been used. As far as he knew,
presidents were helicoptered from the East Lawn to the command bunker in
the Catoctin Mountains during national emergencies.
Across the chamber, Adam knelt by a stairway. His build was thick, his
hands and forearms brown, his hair a curly black. Zack couldn’t see his face,
but who else would it be?
Beside him was a device the size of a personal computer’s tower. It was
almost certainly the bomb, but Adam wasn’t working on it. He faced away,
motionless, his eyes directed to the ceiling. Odd, Zack would have thought his
forehead would have touched the floor in prayer.
But it was true he faced east as he gave homage to his God. So he was a
believer in Islam after all. Zack wasn’t particularly surprised that he’d been
wrong about this. He’d been wrong about so many things throughout his life.
Adam remained motionless. Apparently, he was in no hurry. Zack
assumed he’d activated the bomb, but had set it to provide plenty of time for
escape. There were no beeps or blinking lights like in a dumbed-down movie,
you couldn’t even hear the ticking of its timer. No doubt, the setting was
provided by a digital clock or cell phone.
Zack stood and took a firm grip on his iron bar. He stepped across the
chamber rapidly, needing to take advantage of Adam’s absorption with his
prayers. Despite his hard-soled shoes, Zack was able to move silently. Proper
balance was the key – a rigorously practiced feature of his kendo training.
As his final stride took him within five feet of Adam’s back, Zack raised
the bar above his shoulders. But he didn’t smash Adam’s head.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 323

Not that he couldn’t do it. An unusually thoughtful terrorist or not,

Adam intended great harm to America. Not to mention that he’d put Genna’s
life in extreme jeopardy. No, the reason Zack remained poised in mid-strike
was that the simple flick of a switch was unlikely to halt the bomb. Zack was
no expert in explosives. He’d need to make Adam defuse it.
Sensing an enemy’s rigid presence behind him, Adam slowly lowered the
angle of his head then looked over his shoulder. Solemnly, he nodded toward
Zack. It wasn’t an ironic gesture. There was a deep gravity about this young
man.
“Sorry to disturb you at your prayers,” Zack said. “But I assume we
don’t have a great deal of time.”
“I wasn’t praying. I was thinking of my father. I was collecting a clear
image of this place, so I could describe it to him one day.”
“One day, but not today? So you haven’t planned this as a suicide
attack?”
“No… Either way.” Adam pursed his lips, offered a slight smile. “It
doesn’t matter to me at this point.”
“Maybe it should. There’s something I ought to tell you. I mean, it’s not
my place, but under the circumstances-”
“Is this about Genna?”
“It is.” Zack frowned, perplexed. He’d known that Adam was unusually
intelligent, but the young man’s perception was remarkable. He seemed three
steps ahead. “Then you know who I am?”
“Doctor Livingston, I presume?” Adam let a slow grin spread across his
battered face. “Sorry, I always wanted to say that. But somehow, the chance
never came up in darkest Africa… No, I’d guess you’re Genna’s father.”
“That’s right. How did you know? It’s not as if we look anything alike.”
“The kendo stance. She told me that’s your sport.” Not to mention that
Genna had proudly showed him pictures of both parents. “How many people
would track me through these tunnels armed only with a pole?”
“Why on Earth did you involve my daughter anyway?”
“Your daughter. Are you sure?”
How could he possibly know that? Zack thought. Has the secret slipped
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 324

out of Brad’s control already..? He resisted the urge to voice these questions.
But it was obvious to Adam. The sheer fright across this brave man’s
face at the mere mention of his physical dissimilarity to Genna. He considered
how to use this knowledge to throw off his opponent.
“Of course she’s my daughter,” Zack said. “What gives you the right to
kidnap her, take her to Kazakhstan, make her a prisoner? You must have
known your father would consider her a threat?
“I made it very clear to Dad that if he let anything happen to Genna, I
was out. I know you’ll never believe me, but I love her. The trip to South
Sudan was my way of saying goodbye.”
“Not to mention, you needed someone to confirm you went to Darfur for
the last few weeks. Then you could just resume your life.”
“All right, it’s something like that. But I really do love Genna. I feel
terrible that she got caught up in this. She’s all right, isn’t she?”
“She’s fine. We rescued her from your father’s compound in
Kazakhstan.”
“You found it? That must have taken a major intelligence effort. But I
don’t see why--” And now it came to him who Genna really looked like. “Oh, I
get it. The President made this a priority.”
“Terrorism’s always been a priority with him.”
“Sure, but he had no reason to think my father was planning an attack…
All right, it doesn’t matter now. My father, is he dead?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m the one who killed him. We wanted him alive, but I
was forced to do it. He was firing at me and Genna.”
“I don’t blame you, Mr. Bowen. Dad always knew he’d give his life to
help the world.”
“To help the world? How in God’s name do you think this helps?”
“It will save lives, of course. In the long run, it will stop future wars. But
I don’t expect to persuade someone who’s spent his life working for the
government. Or any average American. I had to give this years of thought,
myself, before I saw the truth. And like you say, we don’t have much time
here… You started to tell me something about Genna.”
“She’s pregnant, Adam. You’re the father. And you’re wrong – I do
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 325

believe you love her.”

“Genna’s really going to have our child?” A smile spread on Adam’s
darkened skin. “This is wonderful. I had no idea.”
“She’s about three months along. Now the question is, are you willing to
defuse your bomb, and put the people you love ahead of this cause? No matter
how strongly you believe in its righteousness.”
“I can’t. I--”
“You haven’t killed anybody yet. I won’t lie to you - you’ll do major
prison time for your part in this plot. But even if it’s twenty years, you’ll be a
relatively young man when you get out. In the meantime, you’ll have a life,
you’ll have a child, and a man as smart as you, you can do a great deal of good.
There are so many better ways to fix the world than this. Like the work you
and Genna did in Africa. She told me that you have a gift for helping people.”
“You don’t understand. I made a promise.”
“I do understand. If anybody knows about duty to one’s father, you’re
looking at him. But one thing everybody learns in life is that obligations
change. You have your own family now.”
“You don’t know how much I’d like to believe that’s true, but Genna
would never take me back.”
“Then you don’t know my daughter as well as I thought. If you really
love her, you should try. Genna’s the most understanding person I’ve ever
known. When she cares about someone, it’s unconditional. She’ll make a
place for you no matter what you’ve done. Now what do you say – will you
defuse the bomb?”
“All right.”
“It’s conventional explosives wrapped around Pu-239, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“How much did you get from Gul Khan?”
“So you know about him, too? Your work’s impressive, Mr. Bowen…
The deal was ninety kilograms. I never had a chance to weigh it, but I’d say he
delivered somewhat less.”
“He did. Your friends in Atlanta got five kilos from the same batch. And
the al-Shahab cell we caught in Seattle got almost another five. So I’d guess
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 326

the bunch they’re looking for in Chicago has five more. Gul Khan, himself, had
only traces left. So that means you might have as much as seventy-five kilos.
Unless you have more friends that we don’t know about.”
“They’re not my friends. This must be Gul Khan’s side deal. I knew my
father shouldn’t have agreed to a Pakistani drop site.”
“Friends or not is a question for another time. Right now, I need you to
turn off your bomb.”
“The timer’s a bit tricky. I have to get a wrench and screwdriver from my
pack.”
“Okay. Just hurry.”
From his kneeling position, Adam swiveled toward his backpack. It lay
between the bomb and Zack.
“I need to disconnect a lead,” he explained.
Actually, the bomb wasn’t activated yet. It had two switches, red for a
fifteen minute delay, black for immediate detonation. When Zack appeared
behind him, Adam had been deciding which to use. This news of Genna’s
pregnancy settled things -- it made him want to live. Adam hoped it would be
possible to see his child once his trail went cold.
From the pack, Adam grabbed a semi-automatic. It surprised Zack for
an instant. Not the fact that Adam would come armed, but that his weapon
wasn’t a saber. Despite the misdirection leading to the gun show, that’s how
he’d pictured this young man for weeks, like in the fencing trophy picture.
How stupid can you get? Zack had to ask himself. Did I really think I’d
convinced him to renounce loyalty to his father’s plan? That was about as likely
as this turning into a sword fight deep below the White House.
Delayed only an instant, Zack swung his rod with such concentrated
force, it whistled through the air. He aimed for the gun, not Adam’s head.
He’d still need to force Adam’s cooperation to defuse the bomb. But Adam was
ready for him, rolling away, then coming to his knees.
Zack spun, keeping his balance by going to a crouch. He burst up with a
groan of pain, thrusting the rod’s blunt end at Adam’s stomach. With a two-
handed grip, Adam fired a single shot that nipped the fleshy part of Zack’s right
thigh. Immediately, he brought the gun to chest level and trained it on Zack’s
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 327

heart.
“Don’t shoot, I’m dropping my stave,” Zack said as he released it. The
iron bar clanked heavily, then echoed through the tunnels. “Look, I know I’m
in no position to stop you, but we still can work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out.” Not taking his eyes off Zack, Adam flipped
the bomb’s red switch. “Now, it will detonate in fifteen minutes. I’ll be far
away, and you’ll be tied up at a safe distance. Don’t worry, I’ll let you wrap
your leg first. Wouldn’t want you losing too much blood. When rescuers
arrive, you might ask them to check that other agent. I had to hit him pretty
hard.”
“Why didn’t you kill him? And why aim to give me the lightest injury
possible? I know an expert shot when I see one.”
“No matter what everyone will say about me, I’m the last thing from
America’s enemy. I love this country very much. I’m doing this for good, not
evil. Maybe I’d like you to tell the truth about me.”
“What is the truth? Why did you and your father ally with jihadists?”
“What?” Adam cocked his head slightly, wondering what Zack meant.
“Oh, that. We didn’t. This started inside Russia. I’m sure you’ve learned
enough about my father to know that’s where his loyalties have always been.
But he predicted Yates would blame this on al-Qaeda or the like. And that
would only help our cause.”
“Then why tell me? Or do you mean to kill me, after all?”
“It isn’t necessary. No one will believe you. The administration will lash
out against Islam as usual, further damaging America’s standing in the world.
It may take many more strikes and counterstrikes, but ultimately the world will
grow a safer place. Yates or any subsequent president who tries to gain power
through warmongering will lose all support.”
“Whatever. But you’re right about one thing. No one will believe me. So
it does no harm to answer one more question. Who in Russia is behind this?”
“Sorry. I may be forced to play the villain, but this isn’t some old
western. I love it how they always made the bad guy give away his secrets
before leaving the hero to die a gruesome death. Which guaranteed a rescue in
the nick of time, of course.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 328

“I thought you were determined to keep me alive. If only to report what a

nice fellow you really are.”
“I am.” Adam grinned that disarmingly likeable smile again. His teeth
were broken, the one flaw in his disguise, but this only made his smile seem
more genuine. “Not to mention, I want my child growing up to know at least
one grandfather.”
“I plan to be a good one. Maybe I should thank you for leaving me alive.”
“No problem. But I don’t want you making trouble for my Russian
friends. We have other fish to fry.”
“Ugh. Was that supposed to be a pun? If I knew you were the type to
make such wretched jokes, I should have bashed your head in after all.”
“Sorry, my apologies. How did you find me, anyway?”
“Your Cutlass with the conservation plates was seen in Laurel.
Guesswork did the rest.”
“The Cutlass, really? I switched cars this morning, worried that the van I
drove down from Vermont this time might have been spotted by a local. I
thought the Cutlass would be safe, since it’s been weeks since my first landing
and no alarms went out… Now, I’m afraid there’s no more time for talk. It’s
been a pleasure, but I doubt we’ll meet again.”
“God damn it, Adam, think this through! Are you sure you want to pay
such a heavy price? To never see your child? To never know if you and Genna
could have worked it out? And for what? You might see your plan as noble,
but it has no chance of doing what you want. When has America ever learned
from its mistakes? You’ll only strengthen the hand of the people you oppose.”
“Then we’ll have to keep on trying until we discredit them forever.” Adam
motioned with his gun. “Please turn around, and walk back through the
tunnel where you came from. Make no mistake, I will shoot if you give me no
choice. Grandfather or not.”
Zack obeyed. He turned and limped toward the passageway. He
watched carefully for a place where he could grab a handhold and spin back
with a kick. With the wounds in his right thigh and his flank, he wouldn’t be
able to do it, otherwise. But he had to try. It didn’t really matter if he was
unsuccessful and Adam shot him. He’d learned a good deal about radiation
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 329

while working in the Threat Reduction program. A blast scattering 75 kilos of

plutonium would easily kill a person all the way back to the spot where he’d
dragged the Secret Service agent.
When they reached the exit from this chamber, Zack lurched as if his
right leg had given out. Stumbling forward, he caught the doorframe. With a
steely grip, he held on and went vertical. He kicked back with all his strength,
aiming his left shoe for Adam’s gun.
Adam was too quick and shot him in the back. Zack felt the white heat
of intense pain. He still was breathing, but blood poured from a hole about
three inches left of Khin Taw’s stitching. Looking down, Zack saw an even
wider hole in his front, centered beneath his breastbone. Bright red blood
flowed from it. Zack was no expert on anatomy, but he’d say the shot had
pierced a major artery, if not a vital organ.
But there was little danger of bleeding to death before the radiation got
him. No, Zack realized he’d die well before his blood pressure failed or the
fifteen minutes had elapsed. Adam had knelt down, placed his semi-
automatic’s muzzle to Zack’s head, and pressed his lips together with grim
regret.
“I really am sorry about this, Mr. Bowen. You seem like a good man.”
“Do what you have to,” Zack choked out as blood began to seep into his
mouth. “But do me one favor. That agent that you knocked out back there.
For the payload in your dirty bomb, he isn’t far enough away. You need to drag
him at least another hundred yards into the tunnel.”
“All right,” said Adam. “I’ll do that before I leave. So, um, now would be
a good time to close your eyes or maybe say a prayer.”
“I’ll just think of people that I love. If it’s all right with you, I have a
photo in my wallet. Could you help me get it out?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Drop it now!” yelled Genna, stepping behind Adam. She’d switched off
her flashlight’s beam and made no noise as she’d climbed up from the tracks.
“Don’t make me kill you, Adam.”
Her pistol was so close to his head, there was little chance she’d miss.
Then she saw Zack’s blood soaked shirt.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 330

“Oh, my God!” she cried. “Dad, that looks really bad. You’ll need a field
dressing before we can get you out of here.”
“You don’t have time,” said Zack. His voice was breathy, difficult to hear.
“You have at most ten minutes before Adam’s bomb goes off. Don’t try to make
him defuse it. There’s a switch for immediate detonation he might activate.
Just take him to the surface. You can use those stairs. First agent you find,
turn Adam over, then make them understand they have to evacuate the White
House.”
“We’re not leaving you. Adam, take your socks off. Use them to pack my
father’s wound. Then use your shirt to bind them in. You know how, real tight
– just like you did for that Dinka man after the riot when we met.”
“Okay,” said Adam as he knelt by Zack. “But your father’s right. We
only have about ten minutes.”
“I don’t care. Just do it.”
“I don’t know about this shirt,” said Adam as he took it off. “This
morning, I dressed in old clothes as part of my disguise. And these tunnels
haven’t helped.”
“We can’t worry about sterility. The doctors will flush the wound out
later.”
“Genna, how’d you get here anyway?” Zack murmured as Adam set to
work.
“I reached the escape station under Congress. When I didn’t see
anything suspicious, I knew it had to be the White House, so I followed the
subway tracks west. Then I heard a metallic sound just before I reached this
spur, so it was easy to know I needed to turn north. The first gunshot led me
straight here.”
“That was the wound in my thigh,” Zack whispered. “Just so you know,
Adam was trying to avoid killing me at first. He was escorting me away from
the bomb when I attacked him.”
“That’s no excuse!”
Genna turned to Adam.
“I can’t believe you shot my father. He could die from this, you know.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I’m sorry about all of this.”
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 331

“Don’t call me babe. I should’ve said this back in Ethiopia, but that’s the
one thing that bothered me about you.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn you liked it when I called you that… Never
mind. I’m sorry about everything. I mean it with all my heart. I want you to
know I loved you, Genna. I don’t expect you to understand me or forgive me,
but this is something I had no choice about. “
“Oh, you had a choice. It may have been a hard one for a man like you,
I’ll give you that. Choosing loyalty to your father and the ideals he’s taught you
against what we might have had together. Still, the choice was very clear.
What can I say? I’m sorry that you didn’t love me enough to choose the other
way.”
“That isn’t true. I--”
“Save it. I guess we’ll never know. Now, lift my father up. You’ll have to
get him up those stairs alone. I’ve seen how strong you are, so I know that you
can do it.”
“It’ll take too long,” Zack reminded her. “Just leave me here. I’m fine
with that. I’ve lived my life.”
Though if he could have made it upstairs, there was something that he’d
like to do. No, it wasn’t so much unraveling the rest of this plot, or gaining
vindication. But he really would have liked to call Khin Taw… They’d only
spent a day together, but it felt like they could have built such a strong
connection. Her power to recover from tragedy so much worse than anything
he’d suffered, the happiness she’d not only reclaimed for herself but radiated
toward anybody with the good sense to accept it, these qualities left him filled
with awe. Ah well, like the Burmese said, this wasn’t meant to be his fate.
“Get going, Genna. Just listen to your dad this once. You’ll die, too, if
you don’t leave now.”
“Yeah,” said Adam. “And the baby.”
“You know I’m pregnant?”
For the first time, Genna’s expression flared with anger.
“Sorry,” said Zack. “That was me spilling your secret. But I thought it
might make Adam want to defuse his bomb.”
“It did,” said Adam. He worked both arms under Zack, scooped him up,
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 332

then got him over one shoulder as he stood. “I love you, b-- I mean, Genna.
You’re all I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”
There was so much she wanted to say to him. She’d thought of little else
ever since waking in Kazakhstan. Who was this man? Was she important to
him? Was he capable of lasting love? Had he ever thought about them
building a life together? Was it a happy thought or did it make him laugh at
her naivety? Was even a little of their relationship made out of real feelings or
was it all a sham? Had Adam maneuvered their meeting and her growing
attraction to him simply so he’d have an alibi? Were any of the qualities that
made love still swirl in her stomach the real Adam or were they all an act? But
there was no time now for all these questions. And there was really only one.
“Do you love me, Adam?” she asked. “I want to know the truth.”
“I adore you, Genna. I do, with all my heart. And I’ll love our child, too.
I always thought I’d be the kind of dad a kid could really talk to. Not like mine.
He was… I don’t know how to say it, but--”
Suddenly dropping Zack, he dove toward the black switch on the bomb.
Genna wheeled. She felt a vice squeezing her heart, but she didn’t hesitate an
instant. Her gunshot tore into the base of Adam’s skull. Though his fingers
landed on the bomb, he was dead before he hit the ground. His right hand lay
twitching by the switch he’d missed by half an inch.
Genna’s vision blurred with tears, but she wiped them away quickly.
Zack was motionless on the concrete. She ran to him and saw he still was
breathing. She had no idea how to turn off Adam’s bomb. There was a red
switch on it, besides the black one for immediate detonation. But she feared
reversing the red one would have the same effect. Adam was much too smart
to make his bomb easily defused. By now, she only had a few minutes. And
her father was too large a man to get him up the stairway without help.
Just as she started racing up the stairs to find someone, a man
staggered from the passageway. He looked dazed, but had the sense to hold
out his Secret Service badge. Genna quickly explained the situation. The
agent helped her lift Zack by the arms and feet, then they carried him up the
stairway.
The door at the top was locked, of course. The agent didn’t have a key.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 333

No one responded to Genna’s frantic pounding. There was a motion detector

above the door which they’d probably set off, but she heard no alarm. If the
Secret Service had been silently alerted, she heard no running footsteps. She
tried the main White House number from her cell phone, hoping they were
close enough to the surface that it would work, but she couldn’t get reception.
Then the groggy agent remembered that his communications radio would
work down here. A minute later, two Secret Service men came to the door.
“I just killed Adam Lindsey,” Genna told them. “His dirty bomb will go off
any minute. You’ve got to evacuate the building.”
“She’s right,” said the agent, still holding Zack’s legs. “I saw him.”
While they hustled through a passage leading past the Situation Room,
the senior agent alerted his squad leader to get the White House cleared.
Just as the ambulance rushed Zack away to surgery at George
Washington University Hospital, Adam’s dirty bomb exploded.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 334

37

There were no casualties within the White House. Genna’s warning was
in time to complete an evacuation of the building and the grounds. Adam’s
bomb was very powerful, however. It tore through the sub-basement,
demolishing much of this level including the Situation Room.
After the escape subway’s station was excavated, no human flesh was
found within the chamber. Adam’s body must have vaporized. The only pieces
identified were scraps of padding and some fibers from his wig.
The White House was uninhabitable for the next three years. The seat of
Presidential power was moved into the Blair House, while the Vice President
relocated to a residence in the Navy Yard.
Brad Yates had no trouble making the adjustment. He realized that he
might well have lost his reelection bid if it weren’t for Adam Lindsey’s attack.
His enemies -- whether jihadists, or Russians, as Zack Bowen still insisted --
they’d never grasped the most basic thing about the United States. Americans
always rally behind their President during crisis. The terrorists had handed
him victory atop a silver platter. Or make that plutonium.
That isn’t to say Yates wanted Adam Lindsey’s pals to keep running
around America with nukes. By directing maximum resources to Chicago, he’d
caught the al-Shahab cell before they could strike. And he’d kept up the
pressure to neutralize all remaining cells. Meanwhile, he’d concluded the deal
with Russia concerning NATO’s forward bases. Whether or not there was
anything to Zack’s claims, it wasn’t worth riling the Kremlin. There’d been no
further indications of Russian involvement, no additional plutonium diverted to
hostile parties, and no subsequent attacks within the United States.
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 335

For his part, Grigori Artsev was ordered to call off the assassination of
Zack Bowen. According to Pavel, who’d played chess with him several times
during his convalescence, Zack had shown no interest in resuming his hunt for
the plutonium’s source. Putin had ordered a hands-off approach, convinced
that killing Zack would only bring attention. It would burn Pavel, and Galina,
too. So they’d leave Zack alone. For now. There were more snow bears
available, and more ways to restore Russian parity.
After concluding the NATO deal with Moscow, President Yates ordered
his staff to prepare a ceremony honoring Genna’s heroism in stopping Adam
Lindsey. She’d told all three aides who phoned her that she wanted nothing to
do with a medal, then refused to take further calls. Feeling genuinely thankful,
Yates had tried, himself. She’d bluntly stated she wanted nothing more to do
with him, then had each of his numbers blocked.
Maybe if he wrote, explaining that he was her father… No, he didn’t
like the tradeoff. It would necessitate continuing his relationship with
Julianna. And the truth was, she’d been a hell of a lot more fun as someone
else’s wife.
Just as well about Genna’s medal, thought Yates. He would have had to
include Zack Bowen in the ceremony. This way, Zack could stay the goat. In
fact, people could rightly make the inference that it was Zack’s fault about the
dirty bomb going off at all. The one in Atlanta, too. He’d practically been
mutinous. He was lucky not to be charged with treason. If Zack hadn’t flouted
orders by continuing to chase Russians, the terrorists would have all been
caught in time. Yeah, that was the right angle. Yates decided that this version
could start floating through discreet operatives.
It didn’t really matter that Paolucci and the other intelligence directors
had never been able to establish a definitive connection between the Lindseys
and al-Shahab. It only mattered what the public thought. And his reelection
proved they knew that he’d done the right thing. It established once and for all
that he was sharper than his former friend.
Zack didn’t really care. He felt damned lucky to have survived. He
thought about Lubov, Colquitt, and the others who hadn’t been so fortunate.
Months ago, in the hours between contractions, Genna had shared the stories
Loyalty Test Paul Coulter 336

of her two companions, Matthias and U Win. Their deaths were only final
chapters in lives filled with a staggering degree of loss. Next to them, his ordeal
had been mild.
He really was a lucky man. Take Africa -- he’d finally discovered work he
loved. Sure, just keeping the camps afloat was a constant struggle, but
wresting small successes here produced great satisfaction. He was actually
quite good at it. Everybody said they’d never seen his match for making sure
shipments reached the refugees in time.
Fully retired from government work now, he’d relocated to Ethiopia to be
near Genna and his grandson Adam. The boy was a real pistol, with his
father’s fearlessness, his mother’s heart, and both their clever minds. Young
Adam had everything he needed to thrive in life. Well, maybe not two parents,
but between Genna, the many Sudanese he’d befriended, and Zack’s frequent
companionship, the boy was never short of love.
Thank goodness Genna didn’t saddle him with Zachariah Aloysius VII.
Zack couldn’t help but think this as the boy ran past. He grinned and
sat back in the shady spot where he drank tea each evening with Khin Taw and
their good friend Mary McGahan.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said to Mary. “Life’s all a test of loyalty.”
“But sometimes they’re divided,” Mary answered. After forty years in
Africa, her voice still sang the lilting tones of Cork. “Many people find this
hard. Just remember, loyalties don’t ever need to clash. When I was a
schoolgirl, a tinker used to stop twice yearly at our farm. One time, he told me
something very wise. He said the sum of one’s allegiances must be a
contribution to the human race. That’s where a person gains the best reward.”
“I’m glad to hear it put so well,” said Zack. “I think I’ve struggled toward
this understanding all my life. And personally, I can’t imagine a greater feeling
of accomplishment than helping these good people.”