We must look for consistency. Where there is a want of it we must suspect deception.
(Arthur Conan Doyle)
Attentively, Mirliva Zaghros watched the visitor enter and approach. A midsize blonde woman in her late thirties – or perhaps early forties, well-rounded, expensively dressed – and heavily made-up. The jewellery worn looked positively high-class, yet was far too exuberant to appear subtle.
“Merhaba. Be seated, please.”
“Yes, Bayan Paşa.”
The voice sounded clear and affable. The perfume, however, was heavy. Was there alcohol in the scent? Yes, and it wasn’t cologne...
Indeed, a respectable madam, at first look. The dossier, though, told of a wild life. For years on end, the woman had worked for the Istihbarat – out of self-defence, because the Okhrana had been chasing after her. Yeah, she had been on Moscow’s hit list – for an unsavoury love affair with the Tsarevich… Love affairs had been legion in her life. But only those with other women seemed to have been true ones. – Eventually, one had removed her to a safe place – on Kıbrıs.
But now, one needed her again. The situation in the Kazakh Republic was tense. And being a native Russian, the lady could be put to good use. The mirliva waited until an orderly had served tea before addressing the woman.
“I take it you have been briefed on the situation in the KR. The Vezir-i-Azam has decided to send help. I’ve been tasked to direct the secret service portion of this aid package. And I’ve been alerted to your special abilities…”
The woman giggled.
“Even the fiercest terrorist usually has a wife – or at least a girl friend, who is as gossipy as any other woman. I want you to work this aspect. You’ll have a squad of girls under your command – and be part of my outfit. We’ll be based in Qarağandi, but will, of course, work all over the country. You’ll be given the temporary rank of Yüzbaşı. We’ll travel the day after tomorrow. Any questions?”