Chapter 21: Kazakhstan Gambit
Horgos, Xinjiang, People's Republic of China. 11 March 1990, morning
In the frigid embrace of the morning air, Maxine stood, her coat's edges fluttering gently in the breeze, as though it whispered secrets of the perilous mission ahead. Her team had outfitted her meticulously, a symphony of clandestine necessities gracing her person. Firearms, their cold metal a constant reminder of the imminent danger, nestled among her equipment. A cache of ammunition stood ready, while case files brimmed with classified intel. A miniature camera, a silent voyeur, was poised for discreet surveillance, and a snug-fitting Kevlar armor vest clung to her form like a shield.
Percy Szeto, her brother's teammate, who had helped her get this far, wished her luck. "I'll do what I can to send your team after you if possible," he said.
Wahid, the Uighur cross-border trader who had become her reluctant ally in this clandestine operation, had arranged for her unconventional means of crossing the border. Maxine would be concealed among sacks and boxes of raisins, dried apricots, and walnuts. She squeezed herself into the cramped space, realizing why Wahid couldn't risk bringing more than one person. The hiding space was incredibly limited, and Maxine had to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
The journey from the Chinese-Soviet border post at Horgos to Alma-Ata had begun. Wahid's truck, a Jiefang CA-10, was a Chinese civilian copy of the Soviet army's main truck since the 1950s. The truck was rugged but reliable, and it would not look out of place in any Communist bloc country. Its engine's low rumble vibrated through the cargo area. Wahid sat at the passenger seat, focused and determined, his eyes occasionally darting to the road ahead. He was accompanied by a seasoned truck driver who seemed unperturbed by the covert operation they were conducting.
Maxine sat amidst the cargo. The crates of dried fruits surrounded her, offering some semblance of cover. The smell of the produce filled her senses as she adjusted her position. She could hear the truck approaching the border checkpoint.
Wahid's experience and connections came in handy. He handed over a small bribe to the border guards, who conveniently looked the other way. Their lax inspection allowed Maxine to remain undetected. The tension in the air was palpable, but they were on their way.
About an hour after the border crossing, the truck came to a stop. Maxine's senses went on high alert as she heard the crates being shifted. But her tension eased when she realized it was Wahid checking on her. His voice, calm and reassuring, reached her ears.
"You can move to front if you want," Wahid suggested, his gaze locking with hers. "Safe as long as you speak Russian. They will think you're Russian."
Maxine acknowledged Wahid's offer with a silent nod. She then carefully began to climb out of the cramped cargo area, bringing her things with her. Her movements were slow and deliberate, reflecting her training and the need for secrecy. She kept her face hidden, not taking any risks, and decided to put on a disguise to make herself less noticeable.
As she emerged into the cabin, Maxine was acutely aware of the need to maintain her cover. She wrapped a scarf around her face, obscuring her lower features and leaving only her eyes visible. Drawing on her training and natural resourcefulness, she made herself look as much like a nondescript man as possible.
Maxine also knew that language would be her most important asset in maintaining her cover. She took a moment to mentally rehearse her Russian, making sure that she could speak it fluently and convincingly enough to pass as a Russian traveler.
-----
Alma-Ata, Kazakh Soviet Republic, 11 March 1990, afternoon
After approximately five hours of rugged travel, the truck finally arrived in Alma-Ata. Maxine had endured the journey in silence, her senses on high alert, her disguise carefully maintained. Wahid's destination was Kök Bazaar or Green Bazaar, the bustling marketplace in Alma-Ata, where they planned to unload the cargo.
As the truck eased to a halt, Wahid and his driver embarked on the task of offloading the cargo, crates of dried fruits that had concealed Maxine on her journey across the border. Maxine recognized this as her cue to disembark. She stepped out of the vehicle, her movements calculated and precise.
"Thank you," she murmured softly, her eyes reflecting her gratitude and determination. She knew that this was just the beginning of her mission in Alma-Ata, and there were countless challenges ahead.
Maxine checked her watch and saw that she was still one day ahead of Sofya Vedenina. It afforded her some time to focus on other things. She remembered the important clue about a phone call to Canan Furat, which originated from a hotel in Alma-Ata—a call that had set the wheels of blackmail in motion. Maxine had been reading the case notes during the road trip, and her team had identified the hotel as Hotel Otrar in Alma-Ata. That was her next destination. Bürküt had made the phone call to Canan from that hotel, and Maxine wondered if he was still there.
Before embarking on her journey to Alma-Ata, Maxine had to craft a new identity for herself. Her real identity was out of the question, and her previous alias, Finnish journalist Fredrika Juvanen, might attract unwanted attention. Alma-Ata was a different city from cosmopolitan Moscow, so Maxine and Ashur created fake identity documents for her under the name Maya Lykova, a Russian traveler. This name would not attract attention in that part of the world.
With her new identity in place, Maxine set her sights on Hotel Otrar, which happened to be just two blocks away from the Green Bazaar. She needed to check in, gather information, and piece together the puzzle that was slowly unfolding before her. Perhaps she could even find Bürküt there!
-----
Alma-Ata, despite its location in the heart of Asia, bore the unmistakable architectural and cultural marks of the Soviet Union. As Maxine walked through the city, she was surrounded by large concrete buildings that epitomized the Soviet architectural style. It was as if the city had been molded from the same blueprint that defined countless others across the vast expanse of the nation.
Having reached Hotel Otrar, Maxine knew it was time to assume her new identity. "Maya Lykova," she whispered to herself as she filled in the necessary information on the registration form. Her new identity was designed to blend seamlessly into the local environment, avoiding any undue attention. Her objective was to attract as little attention as possible, and the front desk clerk's disinterested gaze assured her that the transformation was a success.
After storing her belongings in her room and sending a radio message to her team that she would be staying at Hotel Otrar, Maxine went back to the hotel lobby to get some information. She asked the hotel staff about the train schedule, and they told her that the train from Moscow, which she knew was carrying Sofya Vedenina, would arrive the next day in the evening. Maxine made a mental note of this and realized that she would have almost a day to maneuver before the arrival.
Next, Maxine stopped by the hotel lounge, which was still relatively quiet in the afternoon. A courteous waiter informed her that the lounge would become livelier in the evening, as patrons gravitated towards the bar. Maxine thanked him for the information, knowing that the evening might provide opportunities for mingling and gathering intelligence. As she stood in the lounge, she couldn't help but wonder if Bürküt was still lurking in the shadows, and if the elusive man behind it all was watching her every move.
Leaving the hotel, Maxine explored the streets of Alma-Ata. As she walked, she noticed a second-hand clothes shop. It occurred to her that acquiring additional attire could be beneficial for maintaining her cover and blending in further. Maxine decided to step inside the shop, curious about what she might find.
The chill in the Alma-Ata air didn't escape Maxine's notice, and her practical instincts led her to consider buying a coat first and foremost. After all, staying warm was crucial during her mission in this unfamiliar city. She perused the racks of coats, looking for one that would not only provide protection from the cold but also help maintain her cover as Maya Lykova.
Amidst the assortment of coats, another item caught Maxine's eye, and a spark of whimsy touched her. It was a pink dress, undoubtedly pretty and feminine. The dress seemed utterly incongruous with her current mission, yet something about it appealed to her. As a thought started to come to Maxine's head, she couldn't help but smile.
With a sense of spontaneity, she decided to add the pink dress to her selection. After all, blending in sometimes meant embracing unexpected choices. As she paid for both the coat and the dress, Maxine couldn't help but wonder how these seemingly disparate elements might come together in the web of intrigue she had entered. She quickly returned to her room with her haul in hand and an idea in her head.
-----
Alma-Ata, 11 March 1990, evening
In the evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over Alma-Ata, Maxine descended from her room at Hotel Otrar. She had changed into the pink dress, a stark contrast to her earlier disguise, but she wore it with an air of confidence that made her look charming rather than conspicuous.
The lounge was livelier now, with people talking quietly at tables. Maxine ordered a drink and looked around. She understood the importance of blending in, yet she also recognized the subtlety required for her mission's success.
Maxine initiated conversations with the other guests, maintaining her Russian accent perfectly, asking about their travels and experiences in Alma-Ata. Her charm and wit came into play as she mingled effortlessly, becoming a part of the evening's social tapestry. She flirted when necessary, using her charm to draw information from them. Her questions were subtle, but her mind was sharp and focused on uncovering the secrets she sought.
During one such exchange, Maxine stumbled upon a cryptic allusion to Bürküt. She had been conversing with a well-dressed man who seemed to be ogling at her cleavage too often—but the conversation so far revealed that this man knew something about the local underworld. "You know," Maxine purred, "I've been told that there is a man called Bürküt here at Hotel Otrar. I happen to be looking for him."
The man's eyes narrowed, and a sly grin played on his lips. "Bürküt, you say? That's a dangerous name to be asking about, my dear."
Maxine maintained her composure, her tone still flirtatious. "Dangerous can be exciting, don't you think?"
The man chuckled. "Oh, it can indeed. But if you're interested in meeting Bürküt, you'll need to send a signal."
Maxine feigned intrigue, her eyes locked onto his. "A signal? What kind of signal?"
The man's gaze lingered on Maxine's chest for a moment before he spoke again. "Two red roses in a vase on the table near the bar—that's how he knows he has a guest with serious intentions," he said. "But," he added, a note of suggestion in his voice, "I could offer you an alternative arrangement."
Maxine's mind raced as she tried to deflect his advances without seeming uninterested. "I appreciate the offer," she said, her voice low and sultry. "But I'm here for business, not pleasure."
The man's smile faded slightly, but he didn't give up. "Business can be pleasurable, my dear," he countered. "Consider it."
Maxine smoothly redirected the conversation to a more neutral subject, careful not to offend or raise the man's suspicions. She continued to engage him in conversation while discreetly monitoring the other lounge patrons. Internally, Maxine couldn't help but draw a parallel to someone she knew: Isabelle Luciani. She realized that, just like Isabelle, she had employed her feminine wiles to achieve her objectives.
As the evening wore on, Maxine couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. She had earlier spotted vases with roses in the hotel lobby and conceived a plan to use them as a signal. Acting swiftly and quietly, she plucked two roses from a nearby vase and positioned them on the table closest to the bar. She waited, her heart racing.
Moments later, a figure approached her. It was the bartender, a dark-haired man in his forties with a friendly demeanor. He leaned in and spoke in a hushed voice. "I couldn't help but notice you placed the roses," he said.
Maxine nodded, maintaining her charming facade. "Yes, I was instructed to send a signal with the roses. I'm looking for Bürküt."
The bartender's expression remained serious. "I'm sorry to tell you that the man you're looking for isn't here. Bürküt is a regular guest, but he has a habit of disappearing for long periods of time. In fact, he hasn't been to our bar in several weeks. I don't know where he is."
Maxine's hopes were dashed. "Do you know where he might have gone?"
The bartender shook his head. Maxine thanked the bartender for his assistance, her mind abuzz with new questions. If Bürküt wasn't at Hotel Otrar, then where could he be? It appeared that her pursuit of Bürküt had hit a temporary roadblock, but Maxine was determined to keep digging for answers.
With a nod of appreciation, she left the bar and returned to her room, the pink dress and the roses serving as constant reminders of the intricate web of espionage she had entered. She still had another lead: Sofya Vedenina was due to arrive by train the following evening.
-----
Alma-Ata, 12 March 1990, evening
Maxine knew that the day would be critical in her pursuit of Sofya Vedenina. She needed to be prepared and vigilant for any developments. As evening descended upon Alma-Ata, she retreated to her hotel room at Hotel Otrar to finalize her plans.
With the pink dress neatly hung in the wardrobe, Maxine began her preparations. She moved with the precision of a trained operative, her mind focused on the mission ahead. The shortwave radio was her first priority. In a coded message dispatched to her team stationed back in Horgos, she relayed her current location and the progress made thus far.
"Team, this is Maxine in Alma-Ata. Operation at Main Train Station tonight. Preparing for incoming train from Moscow. Await further updates."
Message sent, Maxine moved on to her next task. She retrieved her gear, which had been carefully stowed away. This included her trusty firearm, a compact semi-automatic pistol, a stockpile of ammunition, and the form-fitting Kevlar armor vest. She felt the weight of these tools of her trade, a reminder of the perilous nature of her mission. Maxine also prepared the tracking device signal receiver, a compact device that would help her confirm the presence of the tracking device in the briefcase.
Leaving the hotel room behind, Maxine made her way to the lobby. She had changed back into more practical attire, a dark trenchcoat and trousers that allowed for freedom of movement. Her face was concealed with a scarf, and her eyes held a steely resolve. She had no intention of returning to the lounge tonight; her focus was on the Alma-Ata Main Train Station. It was there that she hoped to intercept Sofya Vedenina, and potentially, the answers she sought.
The journey from Hotel Otrar to the train station was uneventful, yet Maxine's senses remained sharp, and her hand never strayed far from her concealed pistol. The espionage world had taught her that danger could strike at any moment, and she was always prepared.
Alma-Ata Main Train Station emerged into view, its grand facade bathed in the soft glow of amber lighting. Maxine arrived with time to spare, finding a vantage point from which to monitor the arrival of the Moscow train. She knew that when Sofya stepped off that train, her next move would be crucial.
Minutes felt like hours as the train finally chugged into the station. Passengers began to disembark, and Maxine's trained eye scanned the crowd. She needed to spot Sofya, to confirm her presence and the signal from the tracking device hidden in the briefcase.
Maxine discreetly activated the tracking device signal receiver, a small, unassuming device that held the key to confirming her target. With bated breath, she watched the signal receiver's display. The blinking light indicated that it was searching for the signal. The seconds felt like an eternity, but then, a subtle beep and a solid green light confirmed it. The tracking device was nearby.
A surge of relief and determination coursed through Maxine as she comprehended that the tracer was still broadcasting its signal. Sofya had not yet detected it, which meant Maxine was still one step ahead. Now, all that remained was to find Sofya, follow her, and she would be one step closer to stopping the blackmail plot.
-----