Covert Action (Command and Control Book 5) by David Bruns & J.R. Olson

Author:David Bruns & J.R. Olson [Bruns, David & Olson, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

24

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan

Nurbek Kulov leaned back into the creamy, butter-soft leather that made up the back seat of the Bentley Flying Spur. Although he’d owned the car for almost three months now, the sheer luxury of the vehicle still amazed him.

Through the tinted windows, he watched the city streets of his native Bishkek slip by. They passed the four-story building that housed the Osh Bazaar. It was summer now, and vendor stalls spilled out of the building onto the sidewalk. The place teemed with brightly colored lights and pulsed with life.

At one time, he might have visited that bazaar three or four times a week, but now? Kulov could not recall the last time he’d walked the narrow aisles and heard the calls of the hawkers.

Those days were long gone. As the owner of the largest mining conglomerate in the region, Kulov’s days were spent with bankers and investors. His vast fortune would have been unimaginable to his younger self, like something out of 1001 Arabian Nights.

The number of zeroes in a bank account were not the point, of course. What mattered was what you did with all that wealth.

And Nurbek Kulov had done much. Brick by brick he’d built a fortress of powerful influence and climbed to the very pinnacle of Kyrgyz society. People called him a kingmaker, and there was not a politician or businessman in this part of the world who did not owe Kulov a substantial favor. If he believed his polling—and his pollsters were the best that money could buy—he would be the next President of the Republic.

From sheepherder’s son to President.

His wife Rayna reached into his lap, entwining her slender fingers into his.

“Remind me again: Why are we doing this?” Her voice was pitched low, just for him. He loved the husky way she spoke their native language. Even though she spoke sweetly, there was no mistaking the undertone of distaste for this side trip.

“Call it a debt to an old friend,” Kulov kissed the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and perfumed and he could feel her pulse against his lips.

For the Red Crescent charity benefit, they both wore a stylish blend of native dress and Western garb. Kulov sported a bespoke tuxedo with satin lapels and mother-of-pearl studs. A handcrafted al-kalpak traditional felt hat embroidered with gold thread completed his ensemble.

Rayna’s elegant frame was clad in a flowing dress of creamy silk, complemented by an elechek, an elaborately stylized version of the traditional headdress of native married women. The loose wraps of the turban emphasized the delicate features in her oval face.

“You look like a queen, kimbattim,” he murmured as he kissed her cheek.

“I look like the First Lady to the next President.”

Kulov chuckled. Things would be different when he was in power. For years, Kyrgyzstan had exported the natural resources of the land. First to the Soviets, and now the Chinese, under pressure from both due to geography. Under his leadership, things would change. The new Kyrgyzstan would be beholden to no foreign power.

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