Chapter 20: Chapter 20: Anatolia, Afghanistan, Xinjiang
Atatürk Airport, Istanbul, 9 March 1990, evening
The sprawling embrace of Atatürk Airport buzzed with purpose as travelers streamed toward their destinations. Maxine Remington disembarked the Moscow flight onto the tarmac, her eyes a portrait of unwavering determination. The chilly breeze carried the faint scent of aviation fuel, a reminder of the constant movement that characterized this hub of international travel. Her arrival marked the inaugural move in a labyrinthine odyssey, promising to untangle a complex network of deception woven across continents.
Maxine was met by the familiar faces of her team—XL, Val, Ashur, Lloyd—agents she had worked closely with, their camaraderie forged in the crucible of covert operations. The hum of announcements, a symphony of languages, and the soft thud of luggage wheels against the polished floor melded into a backdrop of bustling activity. They greeted her with nods of recognition and a sense of shared purpose.
"Maxine," a voice called, drawing her attention. The voice was a blend of friendliness and professionalism. She turned to see a figure she knew well—Maximilian Remington. He stood tall and composed, a mirror of his sister in many ways. As her twin brother and fellow CIA agent, Maximilian was an unwavering presence in her life, even amidst the chaos of espionage. "It's good to see you."
Spontaneously, Maxine hugged her twin brother. "Max," she replied, "it's always an adventure when you're around."
Maximilian's eyes twinkled with a combination of amusement and shared history. "This time," he said, "it's an adventure we're taking together."
Maxine's team continued outlining the details of the plan. "There's a unique opportunity," Ashur explained. "A U.S. C-130 Hercules is departing from Incirlik on a confidential journey to Central Asia. Classified flight, perfect chance for you to get closer to Alma-Ata."
Maxine's eyes widened slightly, recognizing the significance of the opportunity. The C-130 Hercules was a versatile workhorse of the U.S. military, capable of transporting personnel and cargo over long distances.
Maximilian leaned in, his voice low yet confident. "I'll be on that plane," he said. "We'll be heading to Kabul, Afghanistan, to provide assistance and resources to the fighters there. I'll make sure you're onboard."
A tidal rush of sentiment surged within Maxine—gratitude for her brother's support and the weight of the mission ahead. "Thanks, Max," she said, her voice a quiet acknowledgment of their unbreakable bond.
After a brief discussion, the team began their mission. They have prepared a car, a sleek black Renault Espace that was both inconspicuous and well-equipped for the long journey ahead. Maxine, Maximilian, XL, Ashur, and Val set off from Atatürk Airport in Istanbul and began their road trip across the Anatolian Peninsula to Incirlik Airbase in Adana. Lloyd, who still bore an injured arm, remained in Istanbul to monitor the arrested suspects.
XL drove the Espace through the transitioning landscape—the vibrant cityscape giving way to a more diverse topography. Past quaint villages, open countryside, and the changing hues of the sky, the road stretched before them like a thread linking the past to the present.
As the miles passed beneath the wheels, Maximilian's voice broke the rhythm of their journey. "Maxine," he said, his tone gentle yet insistent, "you should get some rest. The road ahead is long, and you won't have the chance to sleep on the Hercules."
Maxine's lips curved into a half-smile, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance. "You're right," she admitted. "I know the cabin noise on the Hercules will be anything but conducive to sleep."
"You've trained for moments like these. Take the opportunity to rest now, and we'll handle the rest," Maximilian said.
Maxine eased into her seat, her body giving in to the cumulative weight of fatigue. As her eyes closed, the gentle sound of the road became a soothing rhythm that lulled her into a brief sense of peace. Her mind, always alert and analytical, slowly began to relax. The passage of time was marked by the rise and fall of her chest, the hum of the engine, and the familiar presence of her brother Maximilian by her side. The bond between them was a lifeline, a connection that transcended the challenges of their mission.
-----
The night sky in Anatolia was filled with stars, their light casting a soft glow over the land. In the Renault Espace, Maxine stirred, her senses slowly coming back to her. Ahead, the road unfurled—an unbroken ribbon of asphalt guiding them toward their ultimate destination.
Beside her, Maximilian sat in calm concentration. His eyes were fixed on the road, his focus unwavering. He had gone through countless missions, and his instincts were always reliable. As Maxine met his gaze, he smiled slightly.
"Welcome back," Maximilian said in a soft voice that helped Maxine to shake off the last remnants of sleep.
Maxine sat up straight, her body adjusting to the motion of the car. "How long was I out?" she asked, her voice still a little bit groggy.
"You've been asleep for about eight hours," Maximilian said. "You needed the rest, so we didn't wake you up when we stopped to get pide in Ankara. Here, have some." He spoke with a warm and understanding tone, offering her a piece of the traditional Turkish pastry.
Maxine took the pide and was immediately struck by the smell of cheese and sausage. She took a bite and was amazed by the delicious flavors that mingled on her tongue. "This is like a cross between a hot dog and a pizza, Turkish style," she commented.
As they continued on their journey, Maxine's appetite satisfied, curiosity spurred her to ask about their progress. "Where are we now?" she inquired as she reached for her water bottle, taking a sip to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.
"We've just passed Nigde," Maximilian replied, his gaze flickering toward the road signs. "In about two more hours we will arrive at Incirlik."
Maxine and Maximilian chatted casually, covering a range of topics from the mundane to the mission-critical. Maximilian's tone became more serious as he discussed recent developments. "Your team updated me about the blackmail case investigation while you were sleeping," he began. "Excellent work, Maxine. You did a great job arresting and turning three of the participants."
Pride and satisfaction danced in Maxine's eyes. "It was a team effort," she acknowledged.
Maximilian's gaze held a mixture of admiration and curiosity. "You've always had a way with people," he observed. "I'd love to hear about your time in Moscow. What happened then?"
Maxine smiled as she recounted the audacious plan she had devised with Rozagin—giving fake documents in a traceable briefcase to the blackmailer. "It was a risky move, but it confirmed Sofya Vedenina's involvement. That's also why I'm going to Alma-Ata."
Maximilian's expression turned contemplative, a shadow of memory crossing his features. "Sofya Vedenina," he mused, his voice carrying a weight of history. "It's not the first time she's been a formidable adversary to you, Maxine. You still remember East Germany two years ago, do you?"
The car's engine hum served as a backdrop for memories of the perilous encounter—echoes of an explosion, the taste of danger in the air. An encounter that had tested her resilience, a confrontation with Sofya Vedenina that had nearly claimed her life. The memory was etched vividly in her mind, a stark reminder of the adversaries she faced.
"It was in that safehouse," Maxine said softly, her voice carrying the weight of that haunting memory. "Sofya and her allies—they detonated the bomb and killed Dr Woitke. I barely made it out alive."
Maximilian's eyes held a mixture of empathy and concern as he listened to his sister's recollection. "I almost lost you, sis," he said solemnly. "The danger was real, and Sofya's actions revealed just how far she was willing to go."
Maxine's expression darkened as she contemplated the possibility of facing Sofya once again. "I have a feeling that this time won't be any different," she admitted, her voice resolute. "If she's involved in this blackmail scheme, she's not going to let us get in her way easily. And I won't back down either."
Maximilian reached out and placed his hand on Maxine's, offering her comfort and support. "We're better prepared now," he said. "Your instincts and training have kept you alive through many challenges. Remember, we're not alone in this. We have a team of people who support us, and I'm here for you too. We also have the resources of our agency."
Maxine noticed that Maximilian's hand was holding something. She saw that it was a photograph, and recognized it immediately. It was a photo of Isabelle Luciani, captured by Koray Horozoglu during Isabelle's rendezvous with Pyotr Rozagin, which Maxine had found when she broke into Koray's photo studio.
Maxine's brow furrowed. She couldn't help but wonder why he was holding it. "Max, is that Isabelle's photo?"
Maximilian's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he met Maxine's gaze. His expression held a playfulness that caught her off guard. Maxine immediately understood what was going on.
"Oh, no. No, no, no. Not you too!?" Maxine cautioned. "I know what this is. Give me that."
Maxine quickly snatched the photo from her twin brother's hand. She returned it to her teammates and glared at them.
"Come on, even you have to admit it," Maximilian said with a twinkle in his eye. "She's pretty hot."
"I've seen the effect she has on people, Max," she said, her voice carrying a sisterly tone of caution. "Remember, appearances can be deceiving, especially in our line of work. You don't want to get attracted to her. Trust me."
Maximilian's grin remained, though his expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration. "Point taken," he conceded.
"Besides, she's not that hot without the heavy makeup," Maxine grumbled.
-----
Incirlik, Turkey, 10 March 1990, early morning
As they approached Incirlik Airbase, the security measures became more apparent—floodlights casting sharp beams of light, chain-link fences defining the boundaries, and military personnel stationed at strategic points. The atmosphere was one of controlled tension, a reflection of the airbase's role as a strategic hub in the region. Incirlik occupied a strategically vital position in southern Turkey, serving as a bastion from which the United States projected its influence across the Middle East and Central Asia. A pivotal resource for US operatives, including those from the CIA.
Maximilian's eyes held a mix of determination and focus as the car pulled into the base. "We've got some negotiations ahead of us, Maxine," he said, his tone serious. "Let's head to the Hercules and talk to the pilot and my team. They're your ticket to Alma-Ata."
Maxine focused on the task at hand, putting her thoughts about Sofya aside. The air was charged with the anticipation of the next steps in their mission. As they approached the aircraft, Maxine's gaze took in the impressive form of the C-130 Hercules, a workhorse of military transport.
Maximilian led the way, guiding Maxine through the busy activity around the plane. The CIA team was already on the ground, coordinating their equipment and finalizing preparations. Maxine's eyes scanned the scene, taking note of the efficiency and professionalism that surrounded her.
Maximilian's voice held a mix of confidence and authority as he addressed the pilot, Captain Quinn Vanover. " Quinn, this is my sister Maxine," he introduced, his tone indicating respect for the experienced pilot. "Captain Quinn Vanover, 37th Airlift Squadron, Ma'am," Captain Vanover said.
"She's got a special mission, and we need to continue the flight after dropping the team at Kabul. The destination is Alma-Ata," Maximilian declared.
Captain Vanover nodded, his eyes assessing Maxine with a keen understanding. "I've been briefed on the situation," he replied, his voice carrying a calm assurance. "We'll need to refuel in Kabul before heading to Alma-Ata. We'll also be flying through Chinese airspace."
Maxine's brow furrowed with concern. "Flying through Chinese airspace? Isn't the People's Republic of China a communist country? Will that be a problem?"
Maximilian's voice held a note of reassurance as he addressed Maxine's question. "Actually, China opposed the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan," he explained. "I did some clandestine operations in Afghanistan, and I've worked with Chinese intelligence to establish mujahidin training camps in Xinjiang, their province bordering Afghanistan and the Soviet Union. They want to contain Soviet influence in the region."
Captain Vanover chimed in, his voice measured. "Indeed. The enemy of my enemy can sometimes be an ally. China's opposition to the Soviets aligns with our interests in this case. We've coordinated flight paths with them before."
Amidst the arrangements and discussions, a voice interjected—a member of Maximilian's team, a Chinese-American CIA agent named Percy Szeto. He stepped forward with a determined expression, his words carrying a sense of purpose.
"I've been meaning to make a trip to Xinjiang," Percy interjected, his tone carrying a mix of determination and purpose. "I have contacts there among the Uighur community. Given the situation, it might be a good time to check on them and gather any relevant intel."
Maximilian and Maxine looked at each other, acknowledging Percy's suggestion to use his Uighur contacts in Xinjiang. It was a risky proposition, but it could also provide them with valuable insights and resources.
"In fact, if Captain Vanover is going to fly through Xinjiang to get to the Kazakhstan border, I can help Maxine enter Kazakhstan using my Uighur contacts," Percy continued. "Uighurs from Xinjiang frequently cross the border into Soviet Kazakhstan. The border isn't well-guarded, as far as I know. Many Uighurs had relatives on both sides of the border."
Maxine's eyes lit up as she understood the possibilities of Percy's proposal. She asked, "So, you're saying that with the right connections and help, I could enter Kazakhstan from Xinjiang using these well-known paths?"
Percy nodded confidently. "Yes, that's right. My Uighur friends can help you cross the border into the Soviet Union."
Captain Vanover added a practical insight to the conversation. "Flying a Hercules directly into Soviet airspace or attempting a parachute drop into their territory would be dangerous," he said. "Percy's approach, using existing cross-border routes within Xinjiang and Soviet Kazakhstan, seems to be less risky."
Maximilian agreed with the plan and summarized their course of action. He said, "We will do this. Using Percy's Uighur contacts to help you enter Kazakhstan seems to be the most sensible course of action."
As the team assembled around the C-130 Hercules, the intricate dance of espionage continued, each step taken with a clear understanding of the stakes involved.
-----
The moment had arrived. The C-130 Hercules roared to life, its engines humming with power as it taxied down the runway. Inside the aircraft, Maxine sat among her team members, each of them focused and resolute, their faces a reflection of the gravity of the mission ahead. The rhythmic thud of her heartbeat matched the cadence of the aircraft's wheels on the tarmac, a reminder of the pulsating anticipation that gripped her.
As the plane accelerated, Maxine felt a rush of excitement. The wheels lifted off the ground, and the world below her fell away. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for a moment. She was grateful that Maximilian had advised her to sleep beforehand. The inside of a C-130 Hercules was very noisy due to its four powerful turboprop engines. It would be impossible to sleep inside the Hercules.
After a few hours of flight over rugged terrain and vast expanses, Maxine took the opportunity to get to know her new colleagues. She introduced herself and shared some details about her past experiences, carefully revealing just enough to build trust. She also listened to their stories, learning about their strengths, weaknesses, and personalities. Although they all worked for the same agency, compartmentalization was important for intelligence operatives, so it was not unusual for agents to be unfamiliar with each other.
Maxine looked at her twin brother, Maximilian, who was talking to his team members. Their conversation was serious, and she could hear them mention names like "Hekmatyar", "Massoud", and "Osama". They were discussing past missions in Afghanistan, where they had worked to disrupt Soviet attempts to invade the country and establish a puppet communist government.
Percy Szeto, the Chinese-American CIA agent, spoke about his contacts in the Uighur community and his experience in covert operations. Maxine was impressed by his dedication and determination, and she recognized the valuable role he would play in their upcoming journey through Xinjiang and into Kazakhstan. Percy shared his insights into the Uighurs' discontent, the Chinese government's plans for its western frontier, and Soviet propaganda efforts in Xinjiang. He added that the Xinjiang-Soviet border is a "backyard for everyone," far from both Moscow and Beijing, a strategic but neglected frontier that could be useful to the United States. He brought along a large crate that he said was full of "goods"; he said that trading consumer goods helped him build relationships with locals in that remote area.
-----
Kabul, Afghanistan, 10 March 1990, midday
As the Hercules approached Kabul, the mood changed. Anticipation surged, and Maxine's attention turned to the task of dropping off Maximilian's team. The landing was smooth, thanks to Captain Quinn Vanover's piloting skills. Maximilian and his team got off, leaving Maxine and her team on the plane with Percy Szeto. A transient peace blanketed Kabul at the time—a rare reprieve after the Soviets ended their disastrous adventure in the region. Yet the Afghans understood that this calm was an anomaly amidst their country's perpetual state of conflict.
After a brief period of refueling and preparations, the C-130 Hercules was ready to continue its journey. Captain Vanover's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their departure from Kabul and their route toward Chinese airspace over Xinjiang Province. Maxine's heart raced as she realized that the next phase of her mission was about to unfold, with each moment bringing her closer to Alma-Ata and the heart of the intrigue.
As the aircraft headed northeast, the landscape below transformed, and Maxine mentally prepared herself for the challenges that lay ahead. With Percy and her team by her side, she was ready to navigate the intricate dance of espionage and overcome whatever obstacles came her way.
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Xinjiang, 10 March 1990, late afternoon
The C-130 Hercules soared through the vast expanse of Xinjiang airspace. Maxine was aware of the geopolitical sensitivities involved, each passing moment serving as a stark reminder of the intricate web of power dynamics and alliances weaving across the region. The landscape below transformed into a mosaic of craggy mountains, arid deserts, and isolated settlements.
Their destination, Horgos, held strategic significance, positioned along the border between China and Kazakh Soviet Republic. It was a place where cultures met, and national boundaries seemed to blur.
As the aircraft drew nearer to Horgos, Captain Vanover announced their impending landing. There were no nearby airports or airfields, so he had to find a suitable landing site in the vast desert expanse. Captain Vanover scanned the terrain below for a suitable landing spot and settled on a dirt road that stretched out like a lifeline in the desert.
The Hercules began its descent towards the desert floor. Maxine felt the shift in momentum as the pilot's adept maneuvers guided the aircraft. The ground rushed to meet them, and the tension within the cabin reached its peak. Maxine gripped her seat tightly, her heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the aircraft's descent.
At last, the Hercules' wheels met the uneven terrain, the impact reverberating through the cabin as the aircraft gradually decelerated, navigating the improvised runway. It finally stopped and the captain opened the rear door.
Percy Szeto prepares to unload his crate from the plane. The team's gazes turned to him as Maxine voiced the question on everyone's mind—what was their next move? Percy's response was measured, a reflection of the experience that came with his role. He instructed them to wait.
"They'll come," Percy affirmed, his voice carrying the assurance of someone who knew the land and its people. "Locals would notice an airplane landing here. We wait, and they'll find us."
Maxine checked her watch while they waited. It had been 30 hours since she left Moscow, a day and six hours in which time had blurred together in a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. Each minute felt both fleeting and significant. She had traveled from Europe to Asia, across Anatolia, by plane from the Near East to Central Asia, and along the far western frontier of China right up to the Chinese-Soviet border. And yet, she was still probably ahead of Sofya Vedenina.
-----
Before long, locals emerged—silent yet purposeful, drawn by the sight of the aircraft. They came in an old truck, with a few words between them. Percy's foresight held true—they had come. Among them was a middle-aged man, his features bearing the weight of experience.
Percy stepped forward to greet the man. The man's voice, gravelly yet resonant, carried through the air. He spoke in a dialect unfamiliar to Maxine, but the nuances of his tone hinted at trust. Turning towards Maxine, Percy initiated introductions.
"Maxine," Percy began, his voice laced with conviction, "I'd like you to meet Wahid. He's a friend, a trade partner in Horgos. He knows this land, its secrets and its paths."
Maxine's acknowledgment was palpable as she extended her hand, a gesture that transcended words. Wahid's response was a firm grasp—a connection forged in the desert's heart.
With a gesture, Wahid indicated his intention. He wanted Percy to open the crate that had accompanied them. Percy complied, and the crate's contents were revealed. What lay within was a trove of ordinary goods, treasures from the West—clothing, small electronics, cosmetics, toys. Items that were mundane to Maxine and Percy but rare and precious to the Uighurs of western Xinjiang.
Wahid was a cross-border trader, and the significance of his role swiftly became apparent. Percy seized the moment to propose a deal that could benefit both of them.
"Wahid," Percy's words melded determination and diplomacy, "I have an offer. If you can take us to Alma-Ata, I'm prepared to offer you everything in this crate." His hand gestured towards the trove of goods—goods that had traversed vast distances to arrive in this remote desert locale.
Wahid's words were laden with the weight of experience. His gaze shifted to the crate, then back to Percy, his expression hinting at the unspoken. "I can take one person with me to Alma-Ata—no more." He extended his hand towards the crate, a gesture of reciprocity. "And I'll need more than what's in this crate to ensure safe passage."
As the sun set over the desert, Maxine watched Percy and Wahid talk. She could not understand their words, but she could sense the unspoken understanding between them.
"Percy," she said, "what are you talking about with Wahid?"
Percy turned to her, his expression serious. "Wahid has agreed to help us reach Alma-Ata," he said, "but he can only take one person."
Maxine's eyes widened. "One person?" she repeated. Her thoughts turned to her team. They had come a long way together, and she didn't want to leave them behind. She glanced at their faces, which were etched with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. Their journey had been difficult, and the path ahead seemed even more treacherous.
Facing Percy, Maxine pleaded, "Can't we negotiate with Wahid? We've come this far together. We need to stay united."
Percy shifted his attention back to Wahid. He made another attempt to convince the trader to allow them to all go together. He emphasized that they were a team and that their mission's success depended on all of them. However, Wahid was unmoved. His words, when they came, were measured and final. "One person only," and he pointed one finger to the sky to emphasize his point.
Maxine's heart sank as she realized the limits of negotiation in this unfamiliar land. She exchanged glances with her team. Percy's shoulders drooped, and his expression showed disappointment. He turned to Maxine and said, "I'm sorry, Maxine. I tried to reason with Wahid, but he's only willing to take one person."
Turning to Percy, Maxine nodded, her expression resigned yet resolute. "I'll go with Wahid," she affirmed, her voice steady. "Please look after the others, Percy. Keep them safe."
"Maxine," Percy said, "I'll take care of them. You focus on getting to Alma-Ata."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, elongated shadows draped the desert sands. In the distance, the rumble of engines signaled Captain Vanover's departure, his Hercules taking flight to carry him back to Kabul. The moment was marked by the weight of farewells unspoken, by the anticipation of the unknown journey ahead.
In the dimming light, Maxine, her team, and Percy gathered their belongings and prepared to accompany Wahid and the locals to Horgos. The old truck rumbled to life, carrying them towards an uncertain journey.
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Horgos, Xinjiang, 10 March 1990, evening
At the small border town of Horgos, the group found themselves in a realm of contrasts—the meeting point of cultures, where languages intertwined and unspoken understandings bridged the gaps. Wahid, now their host, led them to a humble dwelling where they would rest for the night.
The aroma of spiced dishes filled the air as they dined together, sharing stories through gestures and the few words they could exchange. Wahid asked a question in Uighur, a language unfamiliar to Maxine. She looked to Percy for translation, and he conveyed Wahid's question.
"Maxine," Percy's voice carried Wahid's inquiry, "he wants to know if you can speak Russian."
Maxine nodded, her confidence palpable. " Da, ya mogu govorit' po-russki." "Yes, I can speak Russian."
Wahid was pleased with Maxine's language skills, which allowed them to communicate more directly. Besides his native Uighur, Wahid knows some Chinese, Kazakh, and Russian. These languages were all helpful for trade in that part of Central Asia.
Now that they could communicate easily, Wahid began outlining his plan. He spoke with a blend of confidence and caution, his words outlining the challenges that lay ahead.
"Listen," Wahid began, his tone steady. "I take us through Soviet border post at Horgos. I pay guards to let me through. You hide among cargo in my truck. After we cross border—safe. You can be Russian woman. Many Russians in Kazakhstan."
A thoughtful smile touched Maxine's lips. The notion of seamlessly blending into the mosaic of a foreign land brought both allure and challenges to the forefront.
"And how long is the trip to Alma-Ata?" she inquired further.
"Five hours," Wahid said. "I go to Alma-Ata central market to drop my goods. I drop you there too."
"Thank you, Wahid," Maxine said, her voice full of gratitude.
Wahid smiled. "We help each other," he remarked.
The conversation then shifted to Percy's crate. Wahid casually mentioned, "My wife and teenage daughter like some of the clothing, the lipstick. The rest I can sell in other towns later. But..." He paused, an unspoken request lingering in the air. "I still want something not in there. Compensation for my assistance. US dollars."
Percy's acknowledgment was swift and practical. He retrieved several dollar bills from his wallet, offering them as a token of appreciation. "This enough?" he inquired.
Wahid's grin held a touch of satisfaction as he accepted the money, sealing the exchange with a simple sentiment, "Nice doing business with you."
As the night deepened, Wahid's voice carried a concluding note. "Rest for the night," he directed Maxine, his tone a blend of authority and care. "We go at dawn." The promise of a new day, and a journey that held both danger and promise, lay ahead as they settled in for the night's rest.
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