Page 50 of Close Pursuit

They commenced creeping around the dark parking lot and she only had to dive for cover twice before Alex murmured, “Bingo.”

He slipped into a small Fiat via the unlocked driver’s side door and unlocked the passenger door for her. He tore apart the steering column and hotwired the car, then did his best to more or less put the car back together. He handed her the parking ticket, which had conveniently been left on the dashboard for them. He started the car and docilely pulled up to the gate attendant.

Katie contained her shock as he casually pulled cash out of his wallet and paid the parking fee. He said something that sounded like good night to the attendant and drove out as pretty as he pleased.

“Now where?” she asked in minor shock. They’d just stolentwocars.

“Tashkent.”

“Pardon me if my geography has failed me, but that isn’t in Kyrgyzstan.”

“Correct. It’s the capital of Uzbekistan. But it’s quite a bit closer than Bishkek, which is the capital of Kyrgyzstan, and Tashkent does not lie across mountains on a dodgy highway with fractious weather. If we’re lucky, our tails are Kyrgyz nationals and won’t be able to follow us into Uzbekistan. The two countries don’t like each other and our tails should get stopped at the border. Since we’re traveling on U.S. passports, the Uzbeki’s shouldn’t hassle us.”

She was sure she’d seen him give the Kyrgyz customs guy a Russian passport—dark red with an embossed gold double-headed eagle and totally unlike her dark blue U.S. passport—but she elected not to bring that up just now. Not until she had a better idea of just how dangerous Alex would become if he thought she’d turned on him.

“Watch the rear view mirror. Check for any cars that follow us for a long time.”

“What constitutes a long time?”

“More than, say, five minutes,” he answered absently. He steered the car across Osh and headed west on a four-lane road that rapidly became a two-lane road. “Anyone back there?” he asked her for about the third time.

“Road’s empty. What’s the local time? The streets are deserted.”

“It’s about midnight. And it’s a weeknight in a region with a large Muslim population. Not exactly a party crowd. I think we’re clear for now.”

She nodded and turned to face forward in her seat. “Okay Alex. I’m on your side. But I think it’s time for you to start talking. Who are you, and what the hell’s going on?”

* * *

Alex winced at the questions but couldn’t blame her for asking them. Problem was, very little of his life was on his list of things he was willing to talk about. Still, he did owe her a few answers, at least.

“I haven’t lied to you about anything. As the whole world knows, my father was a Russian spy who was caught when I was a kid. I got sent to boarding school, and from there got sent to college.”

“Harvard.”

“That’s correct.”

“Why math?”

“My father insisted on it. And I was reasonably good at it.”

She snorted at that. “Reasonably?”

“Yes,” he replied mildly.

“How did you end up being a doctor, then?”

He sighed with relief. She’d skipped over the bad years—the revolt against his father, the drinking and depression and self-destruction, the DUI and jail time. Thank God. “Once my father was repatriated to Russia, I was free to study what I wanted. I shifted over to medicine.”

“Why the obstetrics fellowship?”

He laughed. “All doctors get basic OB training, and I picked up a little extra practical experience so I could come over here on the Doctors Unlimited mission. Actually, delivering babies isn’t that different from trauma medicine. It’s explosive and high-risk and you have to be prepared to react fast.”

“Who were those men chasing us in Osh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

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