Thomas was the one who worried her most. What would he do when he heard she’d been captured? If they buried her in the desert, would he ever even know for sure that she was dead? Would he spend the rest of his life wondering about her? Wondering about his child she was now carrying?
Sarah couldn’t help herself, she started weeping. Her legs spread out in the dirt and she slumped against the wall, hating herself for being so weak. She was alone and it was awful, but she knew that when company arrived things would get even worse. Only torture and death awaited her. The best she could hope for was that her body found its way home.
She thought about her men: Hamish, Miller, and the young privates she’d never gotten to know. Were they all dead, or had they been taken prisoner also? She couldn’t believe how much she’d let them all down. Their lives had been in her hands and she’d failed every one of them.
“Just kill me,” she shouted. “You hear me? I have nothing to give you, so just kill me and be done with it.”
The wooden door opened and a man stepped inside. He was middle-aged, wearing full Pashtun dress with a Taqiyah, a short, rounded skullcap. He smiled at her in the glow of the doorway and for a moment he seemed absurdly angelic. “If I wish for you to be dead, Captain, then dead you would be.”
Wazir Hesbani, the one who’d burned her face with gunpowder, stood behind the new man, glaring at her silently. Like Hesbani, the new man also had a tattoo of a dagger on his forearm.
Sarah shuffled backwards in the dirt, away from the two men.
“Relax. I bring only bread and water,” the unknown man said soothingly, “and a willingness to chat.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything.” Sarah tried to speak firmly but her voice quivered.
“That is up to you, Captain. I am not here to force you to do anything. You are my guest.”
“Then let me go.”
“In time.”
“What do you want?”
“To chat.”
Sarah shook her head. “My mission was to speak with a village elder. That is the only intel I have, and you should know because everything that happened in the village was all a trap. You were no doubt behind it.”
The man placed the tray on the floor. “The elder you came to speak to is dead. Taliban took the village many days ago and your Army didn’t even know it. What happen today was due to your own failings. It is your own weakness that has allowing your enemy to best you.”
Sarah was confused. “Are you not Taliban?”
“My name is Al Al-Sharir and I am just a man, born in Afghanistan, a Muslim. I make no choice to be here instead of there, or to be Muslim instead of Christian. It is just what I am. I am no Taliban, but neither am I their enemy. Taliban just one group of many that fight for what they believing is right. You fight for what you believing is right, yes?”
Sarah nodded.
“Then you are no different than Taliban. A coin is having two sides, but both equal, yes? Your right does not make other rights wrong.”
Sarah struggled to understand. “What do you believe is right?”
Al-Sharir smiled. “That all of us are wrong and that there is no right.” He held up his wrist to show her the tattoo of the dagger.
Sarah shook her head in confusion.
“It is symbol, that my will belong to Allah. There is no place for my own selfish desires. My life is on the tip of a dagger and I can die any second. Allah allows life and only he has right to take it. We are not here to rule in his place.”
“We’re just trying to help you people.”
“Really? Then why enter our country after events of 9/11? Is not anger and fear which bring you here, no? What is it about now that make your assistance necessary? Do not fool yourself, Captain; you are uninvited guests.”
“But by killing us, you’re just keep us here longer. Where is the sense in that?”
“I make sense of the world in my own small way, as must we all.”
Sarah shook her head and felt more tears spill down her cheeks, sting her wounds. “P-please, let me go,” she begged.
Al-Sharir sighed. “I will send you back, yes, but I am afraid I must first do what you expect me to do.”
Sarah’s heart beat against her ribs. “You’re going to torture me.”
“Not me, but someone, yes. We must do unto you as you do unto others. It is the only lesson we have to teach here. My friend, Wazir, is a very eager teacher. He will prefer you do not talk easily.”
Sarah could sense Wazir lingering in the doorway. When she looked, his eyes were still set on her, staring hungrily. “I-I don’t know anything. You sound like a good man, Al-Sharir. You don’t have to do this.”
“I am no good man. We must stop thinking in such flimsy ideals such as good and bad.” He reached for Sarah, grabbed the thumb of her left hand and twisted.
Sarah screamed as her knuckle dislocated and fire shot up her entire arm. She tried to speak, but couldn’t catch her breath, so she sobbed like a child.
Al-Sharir looked at her pityingly. “You see, I am no good man. If you were innocent woman I would let you go home, but you are not innocent woman. You are a soldier. You are willing to take life, so you must be willing to give it.” He pointed to the dagger tattoo on his arm. “The dagger points towards my heart, because I am willing to die for what is right. That badge on your arm is your dagger. It say you are willing to die for your beliefs, as I am for mine.”
Sarah looked at the captain’s bands on her dirty uniform and wept, but she managed to splutter out one final plea for mercy. “I’m pregnant.”
Al-Sharir’s eyes flickered as he studied her face. “You speak lies. It is a clever way for you to beg of me, but it is game I will not play.”
Sarah grabbed the man by his wrist. “I swear to you, I’m pregnant. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to be a soldier, I want to be a mother.”
Al-Sharir stared at her for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he nodded. “I believe you. I cannot harm the innocent inside of you. I shall release you in the morning, but if you are lying and I see you again, your punishment will be great and everlasting.”
Sarah’s eyes flooded as she nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you. I’m not lying, I promise.”
“I hope not.” Al-Sharir rose to his feet. “Because if I have judged you wrong in this life, Allah will correct my mistake in the next. I will see you again in the morning. Until then, you will have company.”
Al-Sharir headed for the door. As he did, Hesbani stalked toward Sarah. “No,” she said, “you said you wouldn’t let him have me. I’m carrying a baby!”
Hesbani sneered at her. “Don’t worry, English. I’m not going to hurt you. I am tired after spending so long with your friend.”
Sarah frowned. “My friend? What–”
Hesbani booted Sarah in the face, cutting off her words and splitting both her lips wide open.
“You do not speak, English.”
Hesbani spat as her, before he walked away and left the room. Two other men entered and threw a body to the ground beside Sarah. When the wooden door closed, leaving her in near darkness, Sarah realised the man was badly beaten, semi-conscious, and a British soldier. He looked up at her with swollen, bruised eyes and tried to talk, but could only wheeze.
Sarah shuffled until she was close enough to cradle the injured man in her arms. She felt more tears spill from her eyes as she realised who it was. “Hamish,” she said, through her swollen, bleeding lips. “What have they done to you?”
MCU, ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE, 2014
Sarah let out a moan as past miseries jolted her awake. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her body floated through the air, her legs dangling. At first she couldn’t hear anything, but then it all came rushing back.
Mandy glanced down at Sarah as he carried her. His face was pained, beads of sweat running down his nose. Sarah didn’t mind being carried. She felt safe, like a baby.
Fluorescent light
s hummed on the ceiling above her, hurting her eyes. The smell of chemicals bleached the air.
“Put her down on the table, quickly!”
Sarah was placed down on something hard; her legs straightened and her head lolled to the side. Dr Bennett looked down at her and placed a hand on her cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, Sarah. You’re back at MCU. You’ve been shot, but I’m handling it. Lie back and relax.”
Sarah lay still. There was a subtle pinch at her wrist followed by a tugging sensation.
“How long ago did this happen?” Bennett asked someone else in the room.
Howard answered. “About thirty minutes ago. I kept pressure on the wound, but she lost a lot of blood.”
Bennett hissed. “You should have called an ambulance.”
“We’re not supposed to advertise our existence, remember?”
“I don’t give a damn. You risked her life, bringing her all the way back here.”
Sarah felt light-headed and wanted to tell them to stop bickering, but no words would come. Her eyelids drooped and she couldn’t feel her face. The pain of her scars was even gone.
“Sarah, I’ve given you a painkiller,” said Bennett. “You’re going to feel very sleepy. Don’t fight it. You’re going to be fine.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was tucked beneath several sheets. She tried to sit up, but grunted from the pain and lay back down. Her shoulder ached and she could feel a thick bandage beneath her chin. She was in pain, but that was nothing new. Not a minute passed without her face throbbing and burning; the wound in her shoulder just added a little variety. Right now, her most pressing concern was that she was stark-bollock-naked beneath the sheets.
It was then that Sarah spotted a little red button attached to a wire. She thumbed it several times and hoped an irritating alarm was sounding someplace. Sure enough, Dr Bennett entered the room a minute later.
“Sarah,” she said, “you’re awake. How are you feeling? Any pain?”
“Not too much. How long have I been out?”
“About eight hours. You’re still under sedation so you might feel a bit peculiar for a while. The bullet lodged beneath your collarbone. You have a small fracture on your collarbone and some tissue damage. You lost a couple pints of blood, too, but nothing you won’t get back. You need to rest.”
As the doctor spoke, Sarah’s vision tilted back and forth. “I feel a bit light-headed. You sure it was only two pints?”
Bennett smiled. “A tad more. You’re going to be okay. Like I said, you just need some rest.”
Sarah slid her legs over the bed’s rail and her bare feet slapped the floor. She stood in front of Dr Bennett completely naked. “No can do, Doc. I’m not really the bed-rest type. Where are my clothes?”
The door at the back of the room opened and Bradley entered. He saw Sarah naked and skidded on his heels, putting his hands over his face and turning around. “Jesus, Captain, I’m sorry. I just came to get Dr Bennett.”
Sarah remained standing. She wasn’t shy about her body. With a face like hers, dignity pretty much went out the window. “Don’t worry about it,” she purred. “I thought you were here for the magazine shoot.”
Bradley couldn’t face her. “You should put some clothes on.”
“Nah, it’s a little hot in here. I’m good.”
Howard entered the room next. He saw Sarah standing naked and acted exactly as Bradley had. Now he and Bradley stood side-by-side with their backs to her, covering their eyes. “Sarah, I’m sorry. I came to check on you.”
Dr Bennett rolled her eyes. “Captain Stone, there are clothes for you in the wardrobe. Perhaps you should put them on, if you insist in staying out of bed.”
Sarah headed for the wardrobe and tried to hide the weakness in her legs. It felt like she’d run a marathon, followed by a mountain hike, followed by a pie-eating contest. She struggled to breathe, but made it to the wardrobe and found a neatly-pressed black suit inside.
“It’s one of mine,” said Bennett, “but you’re welcome to have it.”
Sarah pulled the clothes on gingerly and buttoned up the shirt with clumsy hands. When she bent to lace her shoes, she went crashing to the floor.
Bradley and Howard rushed to her aid. Dr Bennett tapped her foot irritably. “I told you, you need rest.”
Bradley helped Sarah tie her shoelaces, while Howard propped her up and said, “You okay, champ?”
She frowned. “Seriously? You’re going to go with ‘champ?’”
Howard smirked. “You able to get up, Grumpy Tits? Is that better?”
Sarah nodded. She placed a hand on Howard’s shoulder and he helped her to her feet.
“What did you want me for?” Dr Bennett asked Bradley.
“Oh,” he said. “Director Palu wants all of us in the conference room. We’ve found out who the girl at the clinic was. Palu wants to track her down ASAP.”
“Yeah, me too,” Sarah said, “so I can kick her arse.”
Howard patted her on the back. “You’ll get your chance, Champ. I promise.”
Sarah tried to ignore the fact that the pat on her back almost floored her.
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Sarah eased herself into a chair at the conference table. When Sarah checked her watch, it was 2:30 in the morning.
Palu was weary and pale. “Hello, Captain Stone,” he said, eyeing her change of clothes. He had also changed. The yellow shirt had given way to a sombre pink. “I’m greatly relieved to know you’re okay. The last thing we need right now is the red tape that surrounds the death of a team member.”
“I didn’t know you cared.”
“I have advised the patient to remain in bed,” Dr Bennett said. “Let it be noted that she refused.”
“Noted,” Palu said. “Now, can we please get to business?”
“What do we have?” Bradley asked.
Palu opened a laptop and began clicking through files, while giving them preliminary intel. “I had the Home Office run employment checks on the newsagent. I was surprised to find that the suspect who snatched Dr Cartwright was officially employed there. There’re National Insurance records and Income Tax reports; it’s almost like she didn’t care about being found.”
“Or she never expected anyone to look for her,” Sarah said.
“Her name is Ashley Foster,” Palu continued. “We have her address, educational and employment background, medical history, pretty much everything. She seems like an ordinary teenage girl, on the surface.”
Sarah folded her arms and winced at the pain in her shoulder. “An ordinary teenage girl doesn’t throw her life away, firing guns at…who are we exactly? I want to say Justice League.”
“We are the Major Crimes Unit,” Palu stated, “and we take our job very seriously. If being shot hasn’t taught you what we’re up against, Captain, then I have no idea what will.”
There was uncomfortable silence for a moment as Palu brought some information up on the big screen, a photograph of the girl who had shot Sarah. “Ashley Foster drifted between part-time jobs, until nine months ago, when she started working at the newsagent opposite Cartwright’s office. We don’t know who she’s been associating with or what her connection is to the doctor. The newsagent is registered to a Pakistani immigrant who’s currently out of the country. His niece, Aziza Hamidi, is running things in his absence, but the address we found for her is an old one. Background checks we ran on her all came up blank.”
“So we need to know how Ashley Foster knows Dr Cartwright,” Howard said. “Was she in therapy?”
“Not that I can tell,” Palu answered. “Her medical records are pretty thin. There’s no reason to believe she is anything other than a healthy-minded teenager, if not for today’s events.”
“One thing that psycho-diva is not,” snarled Sarah, “is healthy minded. She was running and gunning like a Spetnaz on Smarties. The only thing that makes a person behave that way is a death wish. As
hley Foster has some serious issues, I promise you.”
“Her actions certainly warrant extreme caution,” Bennett agreed, much to Sarah’s surprise.
“We need to find out what her motives are,” Palu said. “We have the address of her parents. We should go talk to them, see if they know anything about their daughter’s involvement in yesterday’s events.”
Sarah went to get up from the table.
Howard frowned at her. “Where do you think you’re going? I’ll handle this, you’re still healing.”
Sarah ignored him and stood up anyway. “I’m fine. And do you mean ‘handle it’ like you did at the clinic? You became a hostage.”
Howard glowered at her from across the table. “I admit that was a major screw up, but if we didn’t have to tend to an injured teammate, we could have pursued the target.”
“That’s a little unfair,” said Bradley. “Sarah was unarmed, and Ashley Foster escaped before we even had chance to pursue.”
“You weren’t unarmed, though,” said Howard to Bradley. “You should’ve taken your shot earlier.”
“Enough,” said Palu. “Dr Bennett, is Captain Stone fit to resume active duty?”
Bennett sniffed. “Not even close. She’s still partially sedated and her body needs to replace the blood it lost.”
“Am I in any danger?” Sarah asked. “Beyond passing out or accidentally farting?”
Dr Bennett folded her arms and shrugged. “Your stitches could open, and you might go into shock if you lose more blood. But, I suppose, if you take it easy, you may get away with just feeling like you’re eighty years old. Good enough reason for you to stay put, if you ask me.”
“I’m going,” Sarah said. “I’m the one Ashley Foster shot. I want to know who the hell raised her to be a cross between Norma Bates and Rambo. This girl has training. I don’t think we should take her for granted.”
Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2) Page 9